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saetoru · 8 months

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ how long does it take to fuck your brother's best friend? (four whole days)

synopsis. suguru comes home to visit from college at the same time you do—except he brings satoru along. this is going to be a long break

word count. 8.5k (i am tired of this tomfoolery)

contents. college! au, brother's best friend! satoru, fem! reader, minors do not interact, three-year age gap (you're both early twenties), slightly mean satoru (when you’re kids), slight enemies to lovers, jealous! satoru, mentions of reader having an ex-bf, male masturbation, satoru is taller + carries reader, cunnilingus, fingering, handjobs, unprotected sex, brief mentions of alcohol (satoru), creampie, pet names (baby + sweetheart), not proofread i could not be bothered i’m sorry

notes. this was not supposed to be this long bye i am embarrassingly down bad for the blue-eyed freak

everyone knows that where there is satoru, there is suguru—and likewise, where there is suguru, there is satoru.

they’re a bit of a packaged deal, really. satoru befriends your brother in what you think must be some twisted stroke of luck—there is no way suguru would lower his standards for some rich bastard who’s had life made for him since the day he was born. but apparently, he does, and you’re stuck with a white-haired nuisance in your house at least once a week. for years.

you’ve known satoru since he was a whiny, snot-faced, and spoiled little brat. back then, he used to call you toothless—you were six, it’s normal for children at the age of six to lose a few teeth. just because satoru is nine and has grown his teeth back doesn’t mean he escaped the toothless phase himself—but satoru is just a jerk like that, pushes your buttons, and calls out your insecurities to get a good laugh.

you don’t smile with your mouth open even once around him that summer, not until suguru assures you that regardless of how many teeth you have, you have a lovely smile.

when you’re twelve, puberty does its thing, and now you’re stuck with acne-prone skin—also a normal occurrence for people your age, but satoru makes sure to point out the giant pimple on your forehead every time he sees you. you make sure to let him know his haircut is as awful as his sense of style, and suguru tries his best not to choke himself with his charger as you both bicker.

satoru is gone that entire summer for a family cruise that you’re sure costs double your house—he comes back frighteningly taller than you remember him within the span of just a few weeks.

it’s been like that since you were kids. he comes over, finds a new thing to pick on through his smug grins and smooth chuckles, and you fume as you bite back with just as snarky rebuttals. he makes sure to never cross the line of going too far—it’s more for suguru’s sake, you’re fairly sure—but stays right on the dot of getting just under your skin.

he’s annoying. a jerk. a rich snob. a privileged dickhead. he’s rude and disrespectful, with no tact, let alone any semblance of respect. you don’t understand what could possibly make suguru want to hang around such a douchebag, but suguru cares about satoru—and satoru has always been there for your brother.

you don’t understand it, but you respect it. as long as he doesn’t wet your entire bathroom sink and mirror in the mornings after he stays over, you suppose you can coexist.

but you haven’t seen him in ages—not outside of suguru’s instagram stories and posts. it’s been a long few years since the two of them have left for college, and by the time you leave too, life has its funny way of working, and, well…you don’t bump into him anymore. it doesn’t occur to you that satoru is not the same guy you used to know until you come back home to visit after your second year of college.

“suguru,” you call, “i borrowed your hoodie. but you can have it back—”

you cut yourself off when you open the door to your brother’s room, and lo and behold, stands a very shirtless gojo satoru, the white-haired and blue-eyed asshole you’ve had to deal with since childhood. except he’s way taller than you remember him—just how much does this guy grow, exactly? his shoulders are broader and….and since when did he have abs? there’s a small tattoo just under his collarbone—when did he even get that? his hair is also longer, just enough to fall over his forehead and curtain those striking blue eyes of his.

he looks…well, handsome. very handsome, in fact. dangerously handsome that it catches you by surprise as you blink.

he’s still shirtless, holding his t-shirt in his hands as he grins.

“hey, toothless,” he greets, voice deeper than the last time you heard it—but it still sounds relatively the same. you think you’d always recognize satoru’s voice, whether you’d like to or not. and, of course, he just has to still use that ridiculous nickname after all these years. “long time no see.”

“i have all my teeth now—i have for a long time, y’know. and put a shirt on, you freak,” you huff, rolling your eyes, “where’s suguru?”

“what, you don’t enjoy the view?” he motions at his bare torso, like the shameless bastard he is, “most girls love this view—”

“and yet, you’re still single,” you cut him off, staring at him pointedly.

he grins impossibly wider, tugging his shirt over his body swiftly—you have to exercise all ounces of control not to gulp as you watch his biceps flex.

“keepin’ track of my love life?” he wiggles his brows, “i know older men can be appealing but have a little class. your poor brother would lose his shit if you went after his best friend—”

“satoru,” you sigh, pinching your nose, “do you age backward or something? how are you still this obnoxious after so long?”

“i practice in the mirror,” he winks, “it’s my charm.”

“that’s hardly charming,” you roll your eyes, “anyway, whenever suguru comes back, let him know i left his hoodie, yeah?”

“sure,” he chuckles.

and then you close the door as you leave—right before you stop, pause, and open it up again as you’re sticking your head back in when you make a shocking realization.

“wait, how long are you here for?” you ask, eyes wide.

he has the audacity to look smug as he taps his chin and pretends to think—“oh, y’know. just the rest of break. my old man took my mom on some trip, so i’m killing time here,” he shrugs.

great. lovely. wonderful. just what you needed.

you wish he’d drop dead—maybe suguru will finally be forced to go outside of his one-man circle and actually befriend some respectable people.

“you can’t just stay at your place?” you hiss, “it’s certainly big enough.”

“well, why be lonely in an empty home when we can have fun here?” he hums, “consider yourself lucky—you get to be housemates with me for a—”

“keep to yourself,” you warn, cutting him off again through narrowed eyes and a dangerous glare—satoru only looks more amused, raising his hands up in surrender.

with that, you turn again and almost shut the door when he calls for you—“hey, toothless,” he says lowly, making you pause before turning to him with a raised brow. he smiles—it’s so unlike that usual smirk of his…somehow this one is a bit gentler as he murmurs, “you look good. grew up well, y’know.”

you blink. you’re not ready for that…didn’t expect a compliment from gojo satoru himself—especially not after all this time of throwing mediocre insults your way.

you decide he must be messing with you, so you purse your lips as you click your teeth in irritation. “yeah, sure,” you say dryly.

you can hear his chuckles as you close the door again—this is going to be a long break.

—————

just as expected, the house is simply not big enough for you and satoru.

the first time you run into him happens to be first thing after waking up—you’re walking up to the door just as he twists the knob and opens it, walking out shirtless. again.

this time, however, he’s got beads of water rolling down his skin from his shower, right between his pecs, as a towel hangs around his shoulders. you can see his tattoo from up close now, a small infinity sign right under his collarbone that contrasts against his pale skin.

how tacky, you think—just as you’d expect, even his choice of tattoos is questionable.

his hair is wet—it’s sticking to his forehead instead of the multiple directions it usually scatters around in that messy way it always does. you’ve only felt satoru’s hair once—when you were fifteen, and you’d hit him in the back of the head as you walked past him at the breakfast table. he’d made a jab at your dark circles. tests were around the corner, and unlike satoru, your grades actually mattered. you didn’t expect his hair to be so soft, but it is, and you almost itch to twirl the strands around your fingers for a quick feel.

instead, you scowl and stomp off to your room as soon as your dishes are washed.

his hair is probably just as soft now—maybe even softer now that he actually probably cares to look after it. you’ve heard suguru grumble about using two-in-one shampoo too many times when he comes back from spending the night at satoru’s. for a second, your fingers twitch to reach up and brush through a few strands on his forehead—just to feel them because they look soft. nothing else.

the urge is quickly killed as soon as he opens his mouth, however.

“oh, hey there, roomie,” he grins, “you’re really doing all you can to catch me half naked, huh?”

“don’t flatter yourself,” you grumble.

“i’m just sayin’,” he chuckles, “that’s twice now. if you ask nicely, i might walk around like this just for you.”

it’s way too early for this.

by early, it’s actually late noon. now that finals aren’t killing your free time, you stay up until ungodly hours to catch up with your social life—and it doesn’t help that you can hear satoru and suguru stay up playing video games the next room over, either. suguru is probably still sleeping.

that’s a bit of a shocker, in fact—usually, it’s satoru that has to be dragged out of your brother’s room to have breakfast (or brunch, really) before the kitchen is cleared up. why satoru is up first is beyond you.

maybe it’s just a cruel way for the universe to enjoy watching more of your veins pop.

“does that apply to asking you to leave? because then i suppose i can ask rather politely.”

he grins, eyes sparkling with amusement as he shoots you that smile with those pearly whites that irritate you to no end. you’re not sure why, but something about his smile looks so much different nowadays—something about it just seems so….mature.

that’s a word you didn’t think you’d ever use to describe satoru.

“mm, not quite,” he hums, “you’re still stuck with me.”

“whatever,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. “move, i want to shower before suguru wakes up.”

“you have time,” he steps to the side, letting you enter the bathroom, “he’s probably not waking up anytime soon—woah.”

satoru’s shirt is on the floor—why, you may ask? because he’s an annoying idiot who doesn’t have to clean up after himself when people have always been around to do it for him. he never has to care to aim and toss his clothes into the hamper because the maids will pick up after him anyway. old habits die hard, you suppose—you’ve listened to suguru complain about satoru’s messiness not improving even after being his roommate for the last few years. it’s never been your problem, but you don’t appreciate it now that you’re slipping over the fabric on the tiled floor, falling backwards with a squeal.

but satoru’s quick—he catches you with those strong arms of his and wraps them tightly around you, keeping you securely in place as he steadies you against his chest.

his bare chest, in fact.

you can feel the slight dampness seeping into your shirt, and you can feel his hot breath on your neck as he exhales in relief once he makes sure you’re safe. you almost shiver—almost, but you manage to scrape together enough self-control to stay painfully still in his grasp.

“you okay?” he murmurs gently, voice a low whisper against your skin. there’s no bite to his words. no amusement or teasing or even smugness. it’s genuine, the way he checks on you.

this is…new. very, very new.

“yeah,” you breathe, letting out a sharp breath. and then—“maybe keep your clothes in the fucking hamper next time, though.”

“sorry,” the smile in his voice is almost audible—you can’t see it from where you are, but you can hear it in his voice. you roll your eyes, and satoru makes no move to loosen his arms around you. for some reason, you don’t move.

you’re not sure why, but you just don’t.

“you’re still just as messy, huh?” you roll your eyes—he laughs, and it’s a smooth, boyish chuckle that almost makes you wonder for a moment if this is why girls seem to love satoru so much despite his god-awful personality.

it’s a pretty beautiful sound—you hate that you have to admit that to yourself.

“yeah,” he admits, “it drives suguru nuts.”

“yeah, i can’t imagine why,” you snort. it’s like that for a moment—satoru’s muscled arms around you and hard chest pressed against your back. finally, you clear your throat. “you can let go now, you know.”

“right,” he mumbles, slowly pulling away—and when you turn to face him….is that disappointment? on his face? you don’t get a chance to be sure because then he’s bending down to pick up his shirt before he’s standing—he’s already wiped the expression from his features completely by then. “sorry about that, toothless. i’ll keep my shirts off the floor next time.”

“that would be so kind of you,” you smile sarcastically.

and then you shut the door in his face and exhale as you lean against the wall.

this is going to be a longer break than you thought.

—————

the next time you run into him, it’s late at night. everyone is asleep—even your brother and his headache of a best friend, if the silence tells you anything. you can’t sleep, though, so you make your way to the kitchen to hunt for snacks. you’re skimming through the pantry before your eyes land on a surprise—a box of strawberry pocky sits nice and enticingly, right there for you to open and devour.

you grin, reaching over when—

“those are mine,” satoru calls, stepping into the kitchen, “brought them over myself. you should ask before touching people’s things.”

“you literally ate my leftovers the other night,” you say incredulously.

“those were yours? i thought they were suguru’s.” he raises a brow in surprise, making you click your teeth in irritation.

“the principle of asking still applies,” you purse your lips. and then defiantly, you open the box and grab a pack right before his eyes.

he scowls—but you know he doesn’t actually mind because he waits for you to finish grabbing yours before taking the box and grabbing his own pack and a coke from the fridge. you both take a seat at the kitchen table, across from each other, as you open the packaging and silently eat your newfound snack.

it’s satoru who breaks the silence first.

“do you still throw away the ends of these?”

you huff indignantly, not meeting his eyes as you take a bite off the strawberry-covered end, stopping at just where the cookie portion is uncoated. “yes. i’m eating these for the coating—not the bland biscuit part.”

“what’re you, five?” he snickers, earning a glare from you. defiantly, you pop the end of the pocky stick into your mouth just to prove a point—and then the look of distaste makes him cackle louder.

“shut up,” you hiss, “you talk too much.”

“the ladies love it when i do,” he bats his lashes—you stare at him blankly, unimpressed.

“yeah, as if.”

“hey, my ex-girlfriend totally did,” he defends.

ex-girlfriend? that’s a bit of a shocker—you didn’t know satoru dated anyone in the last few years, you haven’t seen or heard anything of it through suguru’s end. in all realness, you didn’t even think satoru was the boyfriend type…but then again, he’s not really the anything type. he just kind of exists to take up space and be the bane of your existence.

“i hope the poor girl is recovering well after dating you,” you shake your head, feigning a concerned look on your face that makes him roll his eyes—they’re still disturbingly bright even in the dark kitchen, dimly lit by the slightest bit of moonlight pouring in through the small window.

“i dated her freshman and sophomore year,” he says casually. you also didn’t expect that—that it lasted that long. something about satoru doesn’t strike you as the long-term relationship kind of guy. something about him doesn’t seem like the relationship kind of guy at all. not because he’s the type to mess around casually, but because he seems the type to seem disinterested all around—he’s snobby like that. “she was…alright, i guess.”

yeah. very snobby.

“you are such a sick bastard,” you spit.

he snorts, taking a bite of his pocky as he shakes his head in amusement. you’re as feisty as ever—it’s always fun riling you up, even if unintentionally.

“hey, it’s not like she was bad. she was just…well, she wasn’t interested in me like that either,” he shrugs, “i think it was just the sex. it was good, can’t lie there.”

“you’re so gross,” you roll your eyes, “have some decorum.”

“what, you’re still sixteen?” he raises a brow, lips curling into a smirk as he reaches for another pocky, “can’t say the word s-e-x?”

“i don’t broadcast my sexual activities out in the open,” you shrug.

satoru chuckles, taking a bite that more or less finishes the entire stick in one go before he presses a finger to his lips, “shh. don’t say that too loud—suguru will come chase you from his room if he hears.”

“suguru,” you groan, “he’s such a pain to have around sometimes. y’know i dated this one guy last year. i think suguru might’ve paid him to dump me.”

“i know. he definitely thought about it,” satoru hums, “he used to go off about it all the time. he was right, though—that guy was a total prick.”

something about you is mildly shocked that satoru knows about your private life—sure, it’s not outrageous or even the slightest bit unlikely that suguru mentions you. satoru and suguru are best friends, and you happen to be suguru’s sister—of course, suguru is bound to mention you here and there. it’s just the fact that satoru even pays attention to anything to do with you that surprises you—although you suppose it would be a good way for him to find his next source to push your buttons.

“i’m not surprised you think he’s a prick,” you nod, “it takes one to know one, after all.”

“oh yeah?” he snorts, waving you off, “i do, in fact remember anniversaries, y’know.”

“okay,” you sigh, defeated—your ex-boyfriend is admittedly not at the top of the list of your brightest choices. not even up halfway on the list. in fact, he’s so low on the list of good choices you’ve made, that willingly choosing to interact with satoru feels like an exceptional decision in comparison. and that’s saying something. “he was pretty bad. but he was really hot. when a guy looks like that, his values are the least of my worries.”

it’s a joke—you’re sure he knows that. but satoru takes a long sip from his coke, silent for a moment. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so serious, especially so suddenly.

“he can’t be that hot,” he mutters.

“oh he was really hot. probably the hottest guy i’ve ever talked to—” satoru bites his pocky a bit aggressively at that, “and he was so tall. maybe taller than you—how tall are you again? anyway, he was pretty enough to overlook his shortcomings.”

“he’s probably not taller than me,” he grumbles, frowning. you snort—men and their fragile little egos, you think in amusement.

“he was,” you tease, “he was so tall, i’d let him do whatever he wanted.”

“that’s a terrible way to look at it,” he scrunches his brows, “you shouldn’t let some guy walk all over you because he’s tall and his face is a bit easy on the eyes—”

“i know you’re not talking—”

“i’m serious,” he cuts you off. something about him reminds you of suguru for a moment—like he cares who you’re with because he has a reason to. as if you mean something to him, as if knowing someone who doesn’t deserve you has you in their palms is upsetting.

but then you shake the thought out of your head—satoru doesn’t care. he’s never had a reason to, and you don’t exactly plan to give him one, either.

“okay, dad,” you roll your eyes, “i learned my lesson. i have standards now.”

“good,” he nods—and then, as if to keep himself in character, he adds, “because i don’t want to help suguru kill someone, and it’s over something lame like forgetting his little sister’s anniversary. i’d like to go to jail for something more badass.”

“you and badass don’t belong in the same sentence,” you raise a brow. “let’s be realistic.”

“oh yeah? that’s rich coming from—”

“guys, it is five in the morning,” suguru grumbles, throwing a water bottle at satoru’s head. you glance at the kitchen entrance, eyeing a half-asleep and very irritable suguru as he crosses his arms, “can’t you idiots fight over who’s more of a loser at reasonable hours? some of us like to sleep.”

“want one?” you offer your pack of pocky, holding it out to him.

suguru blinks, contemplating for a second before sighing and trudging over.

“yeah,” he mutters, flicking your forehead. “gimme that.”

you watch woefully as suguru takes the entirety of your pack, swiftly sitting next to satoru and leaving you empty-handed. satoru snickers obnoxiously at the deflated look on your face—and then he holds out his pack to you.

you look between him and the pack for a moment before giving him a genuine smile. it’s a rare sight—he drinks it in as you carefully take one and bicker over something with suguru.

you’re pretty when you smile, he thinks—pretty enough that if you had horrible values (which you don’t), he might feel inclined to understand your (awful) reasoning for a moment.

and then he blinks and shakes the thoughts out of his head—it’s going to be a long break.

—————

satoru meets you when you’re six.

he’s nine at the time, and he feels on top of the world knowing he’s three whole years older than you—in hindsight, three years is not a very large gap, but to nine-year-old him, it feels like centuries. he’s remembered you as the fun little drama queen that’s too easy to poke fun at for years—that’s all you’ve always been: suguru’s younger sister who puffs her cheeks out and scowls way too often to be normal, the girl that’s way too easy to tease than should be standard.

somehow, he wasn’t expecting for you to come back so grown…and so hot. suddenly, it really hits him that you’re not a kid—have not really been for a long time now. he’s always treated you like you’re way younger than he is, way too little to be in his presence and be worthy of it—but you’ve really become a fine young woman.

a magnetizing one, in fact.

it’s now his third night at your house—your parents are as lovely and welcoming as ever, and suguru is always a good time to be around. but somehow, satoru is not satisfied. not anywhere near sated by the few, minimal moments of contact with you.

when did you get so pretty? although, as much as satoru has always liked to poke fun at you, you’ve never been ugly. not even a little—but you’ve grown into your features better, outgrown the awkward teenage era of your life, and now present yourself with a newfound confidence that just looks…so good. satoru doesn’t see his best friend's kid sister anymore—no, there’s something so alluring about you now.

the nail on the coffin that solidifies he’s officially screwed is when you mention your ex-boyfriend—why would your dating life make him this irrationally angry? why is the thought of someone being on the receiving end of your praise (and shameless heart-eyes) so aggravating for him?

he doesn’t know—but what he does know is that the raging boner has been killing him all morning ever since he woke up from…well, less than proper dreams about you.

so now he’s here, forehead pressed against your shower wall as the hot water hits his back, swollen cock in his fist as he thumbs at the tip, teasing the slit just the way he likes. he thinks about you—how he’d show you what makes him feel good, how you’d probably learn fast and take care of him just the way he needs.

your hand would look so much daintier compared to his—smaller, but he’s sure it would still feel infinitely better.

he bites his lip, fighting back a moan as he strokes himself slowly, pre cum smeared along the length of his hard, aching cock—red and angry at the tip, leaking with more pre cum no matter how many times his thumb collects every drop.

“f-fuck—” he breathes, and his voice lets out a shaky, breathy little call of your name—he’s screwed if anyone hears it. he’s sure you and suguru will both band together to kill him, but thankfully, the words are lost in the sound of the shower running. “fuck baby,” he says hoarsely, voice cracking ever so slightly as he whines.

it’s soft and quiet, the noises he makes—careful and deliberately hushed to make sure no one hears the improper way he’s thinking of you right now. but fuck, your tits are so pretty when you walk out of your room in a t-shirt in the mornings—he can just tell you’re not wearing a bra. he can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop trying to picture what they’d look like uncovered and bouncing.

“jus’ like that, baby,” he pants, whimpering softly as he squeezes around his tip, teasing himself with that slow, painful pace of his.

satoru is sure that if it were you, that if the hand stroking his cock right now was yours, you would never let him cum so easily—you’d drag it out just like this, pump him slowly and twist your hand around him in a pace that’s painfully not enough before ever thinking about letting him come undone.

it’s just the way that you are—never ready to back down from a challenge, unwilling to go down without a fight. but he loves it, he thinks—lives for the way you keep him on his toes and work for the satisfaction.

“more,” he gasps, “n-need more—gimme more, sweetheart.”

he imagines it—the way you’d kiss his jaw, maybe even the corner of his mouth, as you hum. say please, toru, you’d probably say—and fuck, he’d kill to hear you say toru.

“please,” he rasps, “please, baby. d-don’t tease.”

he can practically hear your light giggles, the sweet, okay, baby. no more teasing, that you might whisper. he’d also kill to hear you call him baby—he’s almost nauseous at the idea that some other guy must’ve heard the pet name from your lips before him. and then he lets himself pump his erection faster, squeezing tighter as his thighs quiver while he stands in the shower.

fuck—you feel so good. you’re not even here, but he’s sure you do, and he’s desperate to envision it. it practically hurts—the way he’s so hard and swollen and ready to release. just for you, he wants to tell you, he’s going to cum all for you.

“baby,” he whimpers, “‘m so, so close—fuck ‘m gonna cum. ‘s for you—gonna cum for you—ngh, sh-shit.”

and then there’s cum on the tile walls, on his hands, on his abs as they flex with every labored breath. satoru cums—hard. his eyes are squeezed shut, lips parted with a silent cry as he pants and strokes himself through his high. you’d kiss him, he likes to think, on his jaw and cheeks and maybe the tip of his nose as you sit on his lap and work him through his orgasm. you’d watch him closely, take in the way he comes undone for you, maybe even call him your pretty boy as he paints your hand white with his seed.

would you praise him? murmur softly into his ear and seal the gentle words with a kiss to his skin? would you stroke his hair from his face as you admire his blissful, fucked out little expression? maybe he’d ask you then—maybe he’d ask you to admit he’s way more handsome than that douchebag you dated as your hand holds his softening cock, sticky with his release.

god, what he wouldn’t do to see your hands coated with his cum—did you do this for your ex? did he look as hot as you claim he was when he came for you? the thought makes him sour—he grits his teeth and clenches his jaw at the idea, panting and catching his breath as he stares down at the mess he’s made.

he should feel bad—this is wrong. so, so wrong—suguru would kill him if he was aware satoru was lusting over his little sister. but it felt so fucking good—he’s never cum as hard as when he’s pictured cumming for you.

it can’t be that wrong, if that’s the case—can it?

——

“suguru,” your voice is shrill, deadly—like you’re out for blood. “next time you jack off in the shower, maybe clean the fucking wall? are you joking?”

“wha—i definitely cleaned that,” suguru defends.

oh, fuck, satoru thinks—he forgot to clean that. so he makes himself very scarce and stays within the confinements of suguru’s bedroom—his messy habits are starting to really catch up to him. if his defense, he really would clean that up…it’s just that he was a bit distracted.

“so you admit you jack off in our shower? our shower?” you sound inconsolable, downright devastated, and borderline hysterical. having siblings seems like a lot of trouble, he thinks—but then again, sometimes satoru is jealous of your bond with suguru. it’d be nice to have someone in his family he can actually depend on. “keep that shit for your bedroom, you jackass!”

“well, how am i supposed to do that when satoru is there? you tell me.”

“i don’t know! figure it the fuck out—you guys probably jack off together anyway.”

“what?” suguru sounds appalled, “we do not—that’s outrageous.”

“whatever,” you say—you sound almost murderous as you warn, “next time you better clean up your fucking mess, you asshole.”

satoru can’t help but smile a little—your pointer finger is definitely held up as you scold suguru—you’re so cute when you’re mad, he thinks. he almost wants to step out and catch a glimpse, but he decides against it for now.

silently, satoru thanks his best friend for taking one for the team—even if it was unknowingly.

—————

it’s night four.

satoru has surprisingly kept to himself—he even promptly looked away after meeting your eyes in the kitchen yesterday morning as you walked in for breakfast. that’s…new. a lot about satoru is new.

he’s taller and more muscular now—at one point, suguru used to tower over his scrawny little form. now he’s seemed to grow into his body, seemed to learn how to style himself better, and actually do his hair a bit. it’s still messy now that he’s just lazing around in your home—but it’s oddly handsome.

scarily handsome, in fact.

you don’t enjoy the idea of thinking about the jerk of your childhood like that—but ever since you felt the hard press of his chest against your back, sometimes you wonder what it’s like to know satoru outside of just your older brother’s obnoxious friend.

maybe, somewhere along the line, had you put your pride aside and actually tried to get to know him, maybe you both could at least be friendly. but then again, there’s never been any real animosity between you two—you can share a lighthearted talk from time to time, like that night in the kitchen.

you decide not to dwell on it too much, decide that he’s not really worth your thoughts when he’s just a guy who’s always been a bit too spoiled to learn how to be humble. instead, you go down to the kitchen to grab another pack of strawberry pocky—satoru will just have to deal with it. if he doesn’t want his snacks eaten, he shouldn’t keep them in the pantry where anyone could stumble across them.

you walk into the kitchen until—oh. it’s satoru. again.

“oh, hey,” he grins cheekily, taking a sip of his coke—he needs to break the habit of having so much sugar this late at night…but then again, why would it matter to you? “stalkin’ me?”

“for an unwelcomed guest, you sure do talk a lot,” you roll your eyes, making his lips curl into a smug little smirk.

“i don’t know—your parents seem to love having me over. what if i become their newest son?”

“i doubt my parents are looking to adopt you,” you raise a brow, slightly amused.

he hums, sipping his coke before blinking at you through those long, perfect lashes of his. “well, there are other ways to blend into a family. marriage, for example, is a great way.”

“you and my brother might as well marry each other,” you snort, “no one else will do it.”

“who said anything about suguru?” he winks, chuckling when your face twists into an exaggerated look of horror—always as dramatic as ever, you are. he can’t help but find an endearing side to it now.

satoru stands, walks over to where you are and stands in front of you as you scoff, shaking your head as you huff out a disbelieving chuckle.

“that’s pushing it,” you muse, “marrying you would be the last open option i’d have left—and even then i doubt i’d ever take it.”

“yeah?” he raises a brow, leaning in so close, you can practically feel his breath fan over you. he smells like expensive cologne and your shampoo—why is he using yours instead of suguru’s? before you can even ask him what he’s doing, he throws away the empty can of coke in the trash can behind you, eyes bright with amusement as your breath hitches.

it’s like he knows—the fucking asshole.

“yeah,” you breathe, “you don’t deserve me,” you try to say matter-of-factly. it comes off a bit more breathless than you intended—the air feels suffocating. maybe because satoru is so close, maybe because his breath is on your face, maybe because all you can smell and feel and hear is him.

you can’t find it in yourself to pull away—why aren’t you pulling away? it’s just like that day he caught you, when his arms wrapped around you and all you felt like doing was lean into his chest. what about satoru and you has shifted so quickly to make you want to do that? what makes him so easy to fall into when all you’ve always known was to shove at him?

he hums, leaning in closer and closer until his forehead touches yours. “you know who didn’t deserve you?” he asks, “that shitty ex of yours.”

you look up at him with wide eyes, speechless as his hands find purchase of your hips, grabbing them and pulling you closer—and against better judgment, your hands lay themselves across his chest. it’s as firm as you remember it.

“how would you know—”

“heard suguru rant about it all the time,” he murmurs, “how he forgot your dates. got you a shitty birthday present. didn’t show up to your anniversary. made you hang out with his friends and didn’t even meet half of yours. you’re tellin’ me he deserves you more than me?”

“he was hot—”

“yeah? and i’m not?”

he’s cocky—you hate that about him. always did. but he’s so close, so intoxicating, so irresistible, and fuck, he is hot—so incredibly hot, you’ve been losing sleep over it the last four nights no matter how hard you try to deny it.

“satoru, what are you—”

“y’know, i’ve been helping suguru pick your birthday presents since you were twelve. i’d pick you the best gifts,” his nose is brushing against yours now, lips just millimeters away from his as he speaks—“and i never forget an important date. i’m very punctual too, believe it or not. i’d meet your little friends—show ‘em what a catch i am when you introduce me.”

“and what am i supposed to do with this information?” you ask defiantly.

it’s a last-ditch effort—you both know this. you know exactly what he wants you to do with this information.

“i don’t know, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “what do you think?”

and then you’re kissing him—because fuck, satoru is right there, and how could you not? his chest is under your palms, his lips are right against yours, and you can feel his thumb rub circles into your hips.

so you kiss him—loop your arms around his neck and tug him closer and press your lips to his. he groans, responds almost instantly as his mouth molds against yours, kissing you deeper as his hand moves to cup your cheek.

your lips are softer than he thought, and his hair is silky against your fingers. you tug at the strands, grab a handful, and feel them against your fingers like you’ve wanted to for so long. and when he nips at your bottom lip, who are you to deny him? your lips part, letting his tongue slide in and taste you with a breathy sigh that makes your knees wobble.

“s-satoru,” you stutter, whispering between kisses, “suguru might come in like last time—”

“god,” he groans, head burying into your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against the skin, “don’t fucking talk about your brother right now. please.”

“my room,” you say urgently—it’s all he needs to hear before his hands are on your ass, grabbing you as you wrap your legs around his hips. it’s urgent, the way his mouth is back on yours—he doesn’t pull away even once the entire walk to your room, not even when he lets your back fall onto the mattress as he hovers over you, pressing kisses along your collarbone.

no bra, he notes happily, his hand sneaking under your shirt to toy with your pert nipples.

“god, you’ve been driving me fuckin’ crazy,” he mumbles, tugging the hem of your shirt over your arms and tossing it over his shoulder. he stares, takes in the sight of the same tits he’s been fantasizing over for the last few days in awe. “you know that? been thinkin’ about these for days,” he says lowly, cupping your tit and massaging as he presses a kiss to your jaw.

“you’re shameless,” you mutter, snorting before you cut yourself off with a gasp as he squeezes your nipple, pinching and rolling it between his fingers and pulling a soft whine from you.

“shhh,” he chuckles, tilting his head toward the wall next to you, “don’t want suguru to hear, do you? that wouldn’t be nice, would it?”

“it’ll be worse for you than me,” you grin, tugging at the hem of his own shirt, indicating you want it off. he grins widely, wiggling his brows and making you purse your lips.

“wanna see me shirtless again, huh? third times the charm, as they say,” he winks. you would retort with something as witty, but then your eyes fall on that tattoo again—right under his collarbone, making your hand reach out to trace it with your thumb.

“what compelled you to get this corny little tattoo of yours,” you grin, giggling as you trace over the small infinity sign.

for the first time, you think you witness satoru shy, blushing as he rubs the back of his neck and chuckles awkwardly. “that…that was an accident. when i got drunk for the first time.”

“oh,” you snort, “you’re so weak, satoru—”

“do me a favor, sweetheart,” he hums, cutting you off, “as much as i love when you say my name, say toru for me, yeah? i wanna hear it.”

you roll your eyes, huffing as your hand finds the back of his head and pulls him into another kiss, moaning into his mouth as he grinds the throbbing erection in his sweats over your heated core.

“toru,” you say breathlessly, “more.”

that’s all he needs to hear—satoru doesn’t waste a second before he’s crawling between your legs, sliding your cute little pajama pants down your legs before meeting your dripping pussy.

it’s wet—so wet, he almost wants to chuckle and tease you a bit. just for old-time's sake. but the ache that shoots down to his cock reminds him that he’s in no position to tease you when he’s not faring any better himself. so he spreads your legs, kisses lightly at your clit in a feather-like touch that has you whimpering and clutching the sheets in anticipation.

“how pretty,” he mumbles, “been hiding this pretty little thing all this time. what a perfect pussy.”

“satoru,” you gasp in embarrassment, hands reaching for his hair and tugging him closer to where you need him most—equal parts because you really need his mouth on your cunt and equal parts because you really need him to shut up.

but he chuckles, takes his time to spread your folds open with his thumbs, and watches in wonder as you flutter around nothing, arousal dripping and leaving a mess. it’s perfect—you’re perfect, and he wants to take his time with you.

“god, you’re soaked,” he groans, chuckling as he murmurs, “that’s fuckin’ cute.”

before you can even whine at the way his words are shameless, his mouth is back to kissing your clit, lips wrapping around it as he sucks and rolls his tongue along the sensitive bud. his fingers sink deep into you, pushing past your folds and slowly bullying into you until the tips of his fingers curl and brush against a spot that makes you squeal.

you gasp a breathy, “fuck, toru—” before he hums around your clit, vibrations making you whimper as he thrusts his fingers back in to hit that spot again. it’s sensitive, the way he makes you feel—your nerves are on fire, and your head is light, and fuck, it feels so good you can’t help but sob brokenly and squeeze your thighs around his head. he moans against your cunt, pulling his fingers out before letting his tongue lick a stripe along your slit, tasting you with a sharp inhale.

“f-feels good,” you whimper, biting your lip as your eyes crinkle at the corners from squeezing shut.

“yeah?” he hums, kissing your inner thigh, leaving a wet little sheen of his spit and your arousal on the skin, “that’s a good girl—just keep telling me how good i make you feel, kay?”

he could stay buried nose-deep into your pussy for as long as you let him—tongue alternating between fucking into you and rolling over your swollen clit, hearing the broken little gasps and whines of his name as you repeat toru over and over again like a prayer. his hand grips at your thigh, sinking his fingertips into the plush skin and rubbing soothingly with his thumb as you rut your hips and grind against his face.

satoru has half a mind to watch it again—to lick and suck at your core again and again just so he could burn into his mind what you look like when you cum. it’s divine—like he’s halfway to stepping into heaven and has to pause just to admire the sight before him.

your hips leave the mattress as your back arches, and your fingers tug relentlessly at his roots as your walls quiver, letting satoru taste every drop of your release as you press a palm to your hand and try to keep yourself from squealing at the pleasure.

suguru is right next door. you can’t wake him—can’t let him know this is what you and his best friend get up to in the late hours of the night.

it’s not until satoru pulls away, catching his breath as he wipes the wet trail on his chin does he realize how hard he is—how badly he’s aching as his cock strains against his sweats. he hisses as he frees himself; ridding his sweats and boxers and wrapping a large hand around the tip of his erection and smearing the leaking pre cum along his length.

you watch in awe, reaching over and replacing his hand with yours. satoru was right—your hand is infinitely smaller than his, and yet, it feels a great deal better. so much better, in fact, that his arms shake as he hovers over you, burying his head into your neck and groaning as you slowly stroke him, squeezing at the tip and rolling your thumb through the slit.

he didn’t even have to show you what he wanted, what makes him feel good, what makes his mind fog with pleasure and burn through every nerve. no, you figure it all out on your own, pulling strangled moans and hushed gasps from him that make your clit ache once more.

“fuck, baby,” he pants, “can’t last long like this—c’mon, g-gotta feel you.” gently, he pries your hand from his thick, pulsing cock, laying it against your stomach as he peers down in fascination. “i’ll be right here,” he hums, drawing a line on your skin right where his tip ends, “see that? that’s where you’ll feel me, sweetheart.”

“then let me feel you,” you murmur, cupping his cheeks and brushing a thumb over the skin, “fuck me, toru—wan’ it so bad.”

so he does—drags his tip along your folds and collects the slick pooling at your entrance before pushing his tip past your folds, splitting you in half as he slowly buries himself to the hilt. his jaw is clenched, breath labored as he waits for you to adjust, lets you kiss his cheeks and nose as you murmur how handsome he is, how perfect he feels, how good is to you.

“that asshole ever make you cum?” he asks lowly, “he ever eat your pussy like that? make you cum hard enough you had to cover your mouth so you’re not screaming his name?”

“no,” you breathe, quivering as his thumb rolls over your clit in slow circles, still painfully still as he stares down at you, “n-no, never. just you—only you—”

“good,” he grins, “that’s what i like to hear. and when i make you cum on my cock, make sure to tell me he’s never done that either, yeah?”

“you’re full of it,” you scoff, “always have been.”

“and you’re full of me,” he says cheekily, chuckling as you glare half-heartedly. “can i move, baby? please? need more, ‘s not enough. n-need more—”

“yeah,” you whimper, pulling him closer, chests brushing against each other as your lips meet in a sloppy kiss, “yeah—need more too, toru.”

satoru, in all his years of knowing you, has never seen the side of you that could be this gentle. the side that glides your hands over his back, feeling every flex and every pull of his muscles, gently caressing the skin like it’s holy, like it’s not worthy of marks—instead to be worshipped and revered with thoughtful touches. your lips sear into every part of him they can find—his lips, his forehead, his nose, his hair as his face digs into your neck. even your voice is a gentle whisper of his name, so soft and careful, it’s like saying it wrong could break him.

your hips buck up in tandem with his, meeting his rhythm as he slams into you, his balls slapping against your skin as he buries his cock into you as deep as it’ll go with every harsh thrust. you can feel his tip kissing against that sweet spot in the back of your walls, your abused cunt sucking him in and hugging around him as he groans.

the friction feels sickening, like he’ll pass out any second, like he’s floating between the precipice of pleasure and the edge of consciousness.

you do that to him—he doesn’t know how or when or why, but you make him feel like he doesn’t have a grip on his own senses. he doesn’t mind it so much, he thinks—doesn’t hate the idea of letting himself fall into your palm and wrap around him. it feels nicer that way, like it’s where he belongs.

“fuck, ‘s so tight,” he rasps, whining into your neck as your hand cups the back of his head, holding him in place. his hips are rutting into you sloppily now, barely maintaining the rhythm from before as he nears his high—but that doesn't stop him from angling into you perfectly, slamming into your sensitive spot every time without fail. “c-cum—’m gonna cum. cum with me, sweetheart.”

“‘m so close, toru,” you sob—and then, just as his thumb finds your clit again, rubbing harsh, desperate little circles to get you over the edge, you cum again—harder than the last time, spasming around his cock and pulling him in as you squeeze around him. “t-toru,” you gasp brokenly, “fuck, ‘s good—so good.”

“baby,” he moans lowly, “fuck, you’re so perfect. prettiest thing ever—prettiest pussy ever. i, sh-shit—” your orgasm quickly has him falling into his own, hot, thick ropes of cum spilling into you with every twitch of his cock, sweet little noises pulled from his throat that he sings into your neck, fucking his load into you.

it’s messy, the way cum spills out of you and coats his cock—but it’s perfect and feels so, so right. you can’t help but think how perfectly satoru fits against you as his body slumps on top of yours, panting and spent as he cages you in his arms.

your hand doesn’t leave his hair—now that you know how it feels, you don’t think you can stop threading your fingers through it, ever.

“wow, toothless,” he chuckles after a bit, “you’re seriously obsessed with me, huh? i mean, how long have you been nursing this crush on me, hmm? thinking about your brother’s best friend, you naughty little thing—”

“satoru, would you shut that mouth for once,” you hiss, rolling your eyes—still, there’s an affectionate grin on your lips this time as he chuckles into your skin.

“oh baby, i’m afraid this mouth never shuts, so you should get used—”

suddenly, you both freeze as you hear suguru’s voice through the door. “you two better not be fucking doing what i think you’re doing,” he seethes, making your jaw drop and satoru’s eyes widen.

fuck—that was never supposed to happen. suguru was never supposed to hear, let alone know.

“hey,” satoru starts, “if suguru kicks me out of our place, i can come be your new permanent housemate, right?”

do not comment about a part 2

but yeah he can come live with me any time and as long as he pays by sucking my tiddies i shall provide all food and utilities and everything

#teepods.writings #fics.#thirstee!#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut

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theragethatisdesire · 10 months

Text

scary dog privilege - best friend!eren x reader one-shot, 18+!!

hellooooo i have had this in my wips for like two entire months and i am giddy and ready to share it. this hopefully will just be a one-shot, but you guys know i love to create a universe for each of my erens so god only knows where we'll end up with this one. best friend eren appears to be my angstiest, broodiest one yet, and i love him lol. wanted to make some use of classic fanfic tropes, so here we get best friend eren and fake dating!! woohoo!!

beware: this is absolute, pure filth once you get into it lol

pairing: eren jaeger x afab reader

wc: 9.1k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving), alcohol use, cussing, squirting, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby, pretty baby, my girl), crying, multiple orgasms, eren being a menace per usual, jean's an asshole (i'm so sorry you guys know i love him but it had to happen)

have fun ;)

This is a terrible idea, and it had been from the start. You know it and so does he, but you had insisted. Now that you’ve made your bed, you have to lay in it, you suppose. You press your forehead to the cold, tinted window of Eren’s ridiculous muscle car, ignoring the vibrations from the rock music he’s blaring and the consistent fluttering in your stomach, and think back to your conversation earlier that week.

“Come on, Eren. It’s just one night!”

“And what about after? When you run into Sasha at the coffee place or Armin after work? Did we just suddenly ‘break up’?” Eren scoffs, pushing past you to grab a Red Bull out of the fridge. You collapse into one of the barstools in his kitchen, having prepared yourself to accept defeat from the moment you posed the question.

“I just can’t face him alone,” you sigh, “it’s only been four months and Sasha told me he’s hooked up with not one, not two, but three girls already. I haven’t even had a drunken makeout at the bar.”

“So? Just because Jean’s been whoring around doesn’t mean you have anything to prove.” Eren's tone is thoroughly unimpressed as he pops the tab to his energy drink.

“You’re my best friend. I just need one tiny favor.”

“Who would even believe us? It’s not like it’s a huge party- we know everyone going.”

You cock an eyebrow. “How many times have Annie and Mikasa tried to con us into a double date? Connie’s been teasing us for years, not to mention the waiter at lunch the other day–”

“Fine!”

“Fine?”

“Fine. I’ll be your date for one night. But all of the explaining is up to you. And,” Eren takes a sip, leveling a glare at you over the top of the can, “I’m going on the record as saying that this is a bad idea.”

He may be reckless, arrogant, and a bit of a brat, but if Eren Jaeger is one thing consistently, he was right. You chance a glance at your “date”. He’s in his typical uniform: black hoodie, black jeans, the little silver chain he never takes off, key swinging over his chest as he turns the car. He looks good, appealing even. If Jean dares to show up with a girl, she won’t consider you to have downgraded, that’s for sure.

You consider your own outfit, an anxious fist tightening in your stomach at the thought of seeing Jean for the first time as an ex. He would have hated it. Your nothing-to-the-imagination outfit is all thanks to Sasha.

You had clued Sasha in on the plan; you hoped having one more agent in on your secret would help sell the act. Sasha had gone all out, lending you an incredibly low-cut black top and some black leather pants that would have caused at least a twenty-minute argument with Jean. Had he not dumped you, you remind yourself bitterly. Sasha had insisted you borrow her all-black outfit to match Eren’s typical attire “just to be cute”. In hindsight, her enthusiasm about this whole situation should have been a red flag, but you’ve already gotten everything lined up, and it’s too late for regret.

It’s far too late for hindsight, too; you’re already ten minutes into receiving the official girlfriend treatment from Eren. He had worn you down on picking you up, opening the car door, the works. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled out a bouquet of roses at this point. You can hear his obnoxious tone now: Even if you’re my fake girlfriend, you’re getting the full package. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

Eren parallel parks smoothly on Armin’s quiet street, unusually busy with the buzz of a house party and lined with your friends’ cars. It’s Connie’s birthday, but Armin always hosts. It’s an unspoken rule at this point; you aren’t sure why he keeps volunteering, especially after Sasha had projectile vomited all over his bathroom at the last get-together, but again, dig your own grave and lie in it. You and Armin are in the same boat there.

When the car switches off, Eren takes a moment to consider you, wrapping and unwrapping his long fingers around the steering wheel, a nervous tic he’s had since high school. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh, reaching for the door handle. Before you can wrap your hand around it, Eren leans over and pinches you harshly on the thigh. “Ow!”

“I open the door, remember?” Eren says, visibly annoyed.

You roll your eyes at him.“Isn’t this a bit much?”

“You think I’m going to be caught dead letting my ‘girlfriend’ open her own door? I have a reputation to uphold.”

You decide to bite back a snippy comment about the many girls who cried over Eren in college and cross your arms over your chest, pouting instead. “Fine.”

If Eren can be dramatic, so can you.

As naturally as if he had done it a hundred times, Eren slings his arm over your shoulders on the walk up towards the door; the weight of it, both physically and mentally, is heavier than you’re willing to acknowledge. When you catch sight of Bertholdt, Reiner, and Annie peering through the window, a flutter of nerves erupts your stomach; you reach a hand up to play with Eren’s fingers, absentmindedly spinning one of his rings and trying to sell the look as best you can. “We better pull this off.”

“It’ll be fine, just follow my lead.” Eren pulls you closer, kissing your hairline. Goosebumps rise all over your body; not at the action itself, but how disturbingly easy the affection seems to come to him. As Eren knocks on Armin’s bright red door, you pack that thought away and shove it to the back of your mind to collect dust.

“Hi…guys?” Armin’s friendly smile upon opening the door falters in confusion as he takes you in, absorbing the sight of you two intertwined on his doorstep. Armin’s wide, blue eyes flick between the two of you, and you can see the gears churning in his head, trying to make sense of how awfully close you and Eren are. Pitting your fake relationship against Armin’s intellect is the perfect first test; a nervous sweat breaks out under your skimpy outfit.

“Sup, ‘min?” Eren smiles back, the very picture of nonchalance, extending his free hand to shake Armin’s shoulder.

“Come on in.” Armin, ever polite, turns to allow for plenty of room for Eren to pull you inside. He doesn’t outright ask why Eren’s holding you, but his eyes betray his suspicions. It seems like your plan, as terrible as it is, is working. One down, a dozen or so to go.

Never dropping his arm from around your shoulders, Eren steers you into the living room where one of Connie’s favorite bands is already blasting from the speakers. Annie and Mikasa are curled up together in Armin’s recliner, hands interlocked as usual; Sasha and Connie are positioned at Armin’s bar cart, violently shaking two cocktail shakers apiece; Reiner, Bertholdt, Marco, and Jean are on the couch, arguing over something sports-related. With a sinking stomach, you notice that there’s only one unoccupied seat left in the room.

“My two favorite lovebirds!” Sasha cries, abandoning her cocktail shakers and rushing over to give you a hug. Upon Sasha’s impact, Eren drops his arm and grabs your hand that’s closest to him as a substitute, never taking his hands off of you. His actions are pointed, purposeful; every pair of eyes in the room looks between the two of you in surprise. You can practically feel a hazel-tinted laser beam burning a hole into your forehead. “You guys are so late; honeymoon phase gotcha already?”

“Laying it on a little thick, Sash,” you whisper into Sasha’s ear, cheeks burning. To your chagrin, Eren only curls his mouth in response.

“What?” Connie frowns, still shaking his drinks. “How long has that been a thing?”

You pause, your heart nearly stopping. You should have made up a story, you realize, something to explain–

“Just a few weeks.” The still-strange weight of Eren’s arm around your shoulder returns, and his jade eyes rest on you, adoration beaming through his always-cool gaze. Against your will, butterflies start dancing in your stomach; apparently Eren’s quite the actor.

“Yeah,” you jump in, grateful for Eren’s lead, “we just wanted to feel it out before we told everyone, that’s all.”

“Sasha knew.” Mikasa raises a suspicious eyebrow. Annie smirks at the two of you, a knowing look on her face.

“It’s about time.” Marco appears from the kitchen with a huge bowl of tortilla chips in one hand and salsa in the other. “Good for you guys.”

You can’t help yourself, finally meeting Jean’s eyes. He’s openly scowling at you, which is to be expected; where Eren is a criminally smooth liar, Jean wears his heart on his sleeve. You recognize that face all too well: anger to mask heartbreak, the same face he wore when you used to fight. For the first time, it occurs to you how cruel this plan might be, how Jean might react to you moving on with a mutual friend. Guilt washes over you, cold and heavy.

“Thanks for giving me a heads-up before you moved in on my fucking girlfriend, Jaeger,” Jean snips, taking a long swallow of his beer.

The guilt drops away from you as quickly as your jaw; you’ve forgotten what a prick Jean can be. Eren has been slowly guiding you over to the singular remaining seat throughout the conversation, and after Jean’s comment, he tugs you down firmly onto his lap. He rubs a large palm over your thigh, a blatant gesture of ownership.

“Not your girlfriend anymore, Kirschstein.” You can hear the distinct note of pride ringing through his voice, hear the nasty look leveled at Jean without turning to face him. It’s been fifteen minutes of fake dating, car ride included, and you can already feel the friendship line blurring. Your head spins.

“Anyway,” Armin, ever the gracious host, interrupts, breaking the awkward tension that has settled over the room, “what bar does everyone want to head out to later? Connie gets the first pick, being the birthday boy.”

The conversation in the room picks back up into a familial bickering over the evening’s next destination. All of your friends have become accustomed to the occasional awkward moment over the years now that some of you have begun to couple up; Mikasa and Annie especially are notorious for bickering like an old married couple, no matter who’s around.

“I need a drink,” you murmur to Eren, moving to stand.

“Do you mind getting me one, babe? Don’t want to lose our seat.” Eren pecks you on the cheek, smiling up at you as if everything about your situation right now is normal, natural for him. Jean’s eyes follow you every step of the way, and your face burns.

Over the years you’ve been friends with him, it’s never been lost on you that Eren’s attractive, not after the dozens of women he ran through in his college years. Peeking over your shoulder now, however, feels like you’re seeing him for the first time, seeing him the way the world sees him. Heavy-set dark brows frame his bright eyes beautifully, his jaw’s grown sharp and severe, and his lips are soft and pouty, stretching into a wicked smirk with sharp canines. He had grown into a heartbreaker, and he’s your best friend and now fake boyfriend– you swat away your private admiration as soon as it comes, taking a deep breath to center yourself and rifling through the bar cart in a daze.

“Want me to make you one?” Sasha waves a bright red concoction under your nose. “Connie and I made them- it has three different types of liquor in it, and you can’t taste any of it!”

One sip of the tiny cocktail straw has your nose wrinkling in disgust. You’ve worked behind a bar since the day you turned twenty-one, and the drink Sasha’s offering you tastes like an overly-syruped nightmare. “Um…no, that’s okay Sash. I’ll probably just stick to beer.”

Connie sticks his tongue out at you. “Boring!”

Predictably, Sasha pouts. “Okay, but we’re definitely making you take a shot. We can chill it in the kitchen, want to help me get some ice?”

Holding up a bottle of tequila, she cocks her head toward the kitchen and wobbles her eyebrows madly. You almost laugh; anyone who can’t pick up on a hint from Sasha is walking around with earplugs and their eyes closed.

“Fine. Let me just grab Eren a beer, and I’ll meet you in there.”

“Ugh, couples,” Connie rolls his eyes, wandering over to fiddle with the dusty karaoke machine that Armin claims broke years ago. You’ve always been dubious as to the truth of that, but knowing your friends, you can’t blame him.

Opening the cooler, you smile to yourself; Armin remembered your favorite IPA from the brewery down the road and stocked the cooler accordingly, nestling a few Hazy Daze’s between Reiner and Bertholdt’s domestics. You pick your way through the haphazard seating arrangements back over to Eren, holding a cold Budweiser bottle towards him. He pauses in his conversation with Reiner, grabbing your hand that holds the beer and removing it from your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, brushing them over in a light kiss. He looks you up and down lecherously as he does it, a dangerous curve to his lips.

You return a weak half-smile, doing your best to not appear outwardly shaken by Eren’s behavior and keep the what the fuck? thoughts from showing plainly on your face. Eren waves you off to the kitchen with a light pat on your bottom, innocent as ever.

“How’s it going?” Sasha asks, safe now in the privacy of the kitchen. Her face is already full-flush with excitement and that awful cocktail she was sipping.

“I mean, it seems like everyone’s buying it. Jean looks pissed, though.”

“What were you expecting? He’s always thought Eren had a thing for you.”

“Everyone thinks Eren has a thing for me,” you roll your eyes, “at least it’s working in my favor now.”

Sasha fixes you with a glare, wobbling slightly. “If you don’t think Eren actually has a thing for you, you must be blind. Deaf, too.”

“Sasha–”

“I mean, even if you hadn’t told me, I would have fallen for it. Is it not, like, weird for you guys? That it’s just natural for you two to–” Sasha burps, interrupting herself, and giggles. “Just makes ya think.”

“Sasha!” Connie calls from the living room. “Let’s do Eye of the Tiger first!”

“Woo!” Sasha shouts, abandoning you and running into the room to take part in the newly-revived karaoke festivities.

You stand alone in the kitchen, shell-shocked by Sasha’s observations. The truly irritating thing is that she’s entirely right. Not only do Eren’s little kisses here and there, the constant touching, even the pet names come naturally, it almost feels…nice. It’s as easy for you to receive his affection as it is for him to give it. You peek around the corner, grimacing at Sasha and Connie’s amplified wailing, just wanting to look at him. Really look at him.

Kicked back, beer in hand and jacket thrown over the back of his chair, Eren oozes charisma. Even doing nothing but holding a conversation with Mikasa, the room gravitates around him. Jean’s angry glare never leaves him; Armin has switched to drinking Budweiser, even though you know he hates it; Annie’s nodding along with whatever Eren’s saying; even Sasha and Connie are angling their performance around him, alternating between singing together and holding their microphones towards him, trying to elicit a reaction. He has this undeniable magnetic force, one that you aren’t exempt from.

You’d met him nearly a decade ago, in high school, and initially couldn’t stand him. His hair-trigger temper had hardly cooled with age, and his ego had gotten unthinkably larger, but you grew to find both of them charming– to a degree. One thing led to another, and before you knew it, Eren was the one cleaning you up and getting you drunk after every bad breakup, introducing you to all of your favorite sports teams and lending you jerseys for the games; hell, he even read that smutty fairy fantasy series you’d been obsessed with in college. Had the man you attempted Star Wars marathons with until you both fell asleep really looked like that the entire time?

He catches your stare, beckoning you over with one long, crooked finger. As his girlfriend for the night, you have to obey, even though you would much rather roll your eyes at the cliche.

“Missed you,” he mumbles as you sit back on his lap, breath hot against the shell of your ear.

“You too,” you respond accordingly, wrapping your arm lovingly around his shoulder. Eren’s eyes flit down to your cleavage, but knowing him, it’s impossible to discern if it’s part of the act, or Eren being himself.

His hands rest comfortably over the casing of your pants, one on your thigh and one on the small of your back, one thumb rubbing circles into your soft flesh. Reveling in the drag of his rings over your clothed body, you couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel on your bare skin, on your throat, on your–

Surprising yourself at the dirty direction of your thoughts, you swallow your beer too quickly, coughing. Eren, who had coincidentally been taking a sip at the same time, laughs at you mid-sip, choking beside you and spraying beer out of his nose.

The entire room bursts into laughter; Eren regains his composure and joins in good-naturedly. You giggle along, relief coursing over your body. Sure, Eren might look a little extra handsome tonight and be a bit touchy because you asked him to, but he’s still Eren.

“They’re practically in sync already.” Hitch, Marco’s girlfriend who had apparently joined the party while Sasha and you were in the kitchen, rests her face on her hand dreamily.

“It’s a little freaky,” Annie observes with narrowed eyes, but the slight curve of her lip betrays her. Not only were they believing your little farce, but they were happy for you. That’s enough to make you flush a little, realizing how naturally everyone’s just accepted your fake relationship. Everyone but one person, at least.

Jean suddenly stands, ripping a beer from the cooler and storming into the kitchen. The laughter dies as quickly as it had come, everyone exchanging nervous looks.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Eren offers, nudging you off of his lap. You blanch.

“Eren, I don’t know if you should-”

“It’s fine,” Eren drops a soft peck on your forehead, walking away before you can stop him. You meet Mikasa’s eyes, wide and concerned. To everyone else, Eren’s walking calmly, not a hint of aggression in his gait. But you know him, know him well enough to catch the anger simmering in his eyes, quiet, but there.

Jean and Eren have always been friends, albeit reluctant ones at first, but too similar where it counted not to get along. That had abruptly come to a halt when you had fallen for Jean. At first Eren had been confused, but over time that confusion had melted into constant irritation. Jean and you were wrong for one another, you know that in hindsight, but at the time, you had chalked all the fighting up to a passionate relationship. The constant tears had driven Eren nearly to a breaking point; multiple times you had begged him not to bring his frustration to physical blows. And now, your fake-boyfriend slash best friend and ex-boyfriend with the two worst tempers out of everyone you know are “talking”. You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep the worry in your chest.

“Are you alright?” The question comes from Armin, who’s placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry that Jean isn’t taking the news well.”

“There’s no news,” Mikasa says low enough for none of the others to hear over the music, now standing directly behind Armin.

A neat little cross appears between Armin’s eyebrows. “They’re-”

“Faking,” she interrupts Armin, “they aren’t dating.”

Armin stammers, trying to correct her and apologize to you for her at the same time, but you just sigh. “How’d you know?”

“One of you would have told me,” she shrugs, “or at least I’d like to think you would.”

“It’s just…I couldn’t bear to show up alone, not with Jean here and apparently sleeping around since the breakup.” You cross your arms over your chest, grabbing your own shoulders tightly. It’s your fault, you know it is, but you had only wanted to feel a little less pathetic, a little less heartbroken. Drama had been an unfortunate and unexpected side effect.

“Why would Eren agree to that? It seems silly,” Armin muses, noticing your glare and immediately turning bright red, “I- I don’t mean you’re silly, just, you shouldn’t-”

“You know.” Mikasa bumps him. The slightest hint of a smile plays on her face, a knowing look directed at you. You frown, trying to look confused through the pink rising to your face.

A loud crash from the kitchen catches all of your attention, saving you from an uncomfortable line of conversation but making your heart beat that much faster. Dashing to the kitchen door, the entire house party hot on your heels, your thundering heart sinks.

Eren has Jean pinned up against Armin’s cabinets, forearm tight against the other man’s neck. Jean’s still seething at Eren, raw ego washing against the cool anger blazing in Eren’s eyes.

“Need to learn how to watch your fucking mouth, Kirschstein–”

“Eren!” Your voice is surprisingly firm, given the nauseating mixture of embarrassment, confusion, and panic swirling in your stomach. “Let him go!”

“Do you want to tell her what you said, or should I?” Eren hisses, nudging into Jean further. Jean’s eyes dart to you, back to Eren, and for a fleeting moment, you have hope that maybe this all can be resolved peacefully. And then Jean makes a fatal mistake.

He spits directly in Eren’s face.

Just as Eren swings, Reiner collides with the two, just barely catching Eren by his forearm before he can make contact with Jean’s cheek. Bertholdt, as always, is Reiner’s shadow, grabbing Eren by the shoulders and wrenching him away from Jean. It takes Connie, Reiner, Marco, and Bertholdt to restrain both of them, Armin standing in the middle and shouting how ridiculous the fight is above the curses.

“It’s my fucking birthday, Jean, come on bro!” Connie growls, pinning Jean to the cabinets with his back.

“Jaeger- back off!” Reiner manages to pull him back a few inches, hardly able to contain Eren, who’s struggling furiously, in his massive arms. Jean finally relents, slouching into the multiple arms holding him back. After several seconds, Eren does the same, never taking his eyes off of Jean. Into the shocked silence, Armin bravely speaks first.

“Maybe we should leave,” he suggests awkwardly, “take the party elsewhere.”

You pity him, poor Armin and his hosting inclination. Eren finally turns to face you. The wrath laid bare in his eyes sends a chill over your body.

“We are,” he spits, sparing Jean one last threatening glance before storming over, grabbing you harshly by the wrist, and practically dragging you towards the door.

“Eren, wait–” you try to reason with him and dig your heels in, but it’s fruitless. Eren’s strong, stronger than you, and you don’t stand a chance stopping him now that his mind’s made up.

He doesn’t drop the act at the car, ripping your car door open, waiting impatiently for you to step into your seat, and slamming the door behind you. As soon as he turns the ignition, the same angry rock music you had listened to on the way over blasts from the speakers; Eren makes no move to turn it down and neither do you. After so many years together, his temper rarely scares you anymore; it’s more of a nuisance than anything when it flares. You stare out of the window, seething with anger, arms crossed and foot tapping.

Five minutes into the drive, you realize Eren isn’t taking you to your house, but to his. What he’s thinking, you can’t be sure, but you go ahead and start making your plans to give him an earful and call your Uber the moment you get there. You just can’t wrap your mind around why he would attack Jean and embarrass you like that– Eren may have been a hothead, but rarely did he let his temper escalate to that degree, especially against a friend.

Eren whips his car into the driveway, parking with such force you nearly knock your head against the headrest. You reach for your door handle, ready to throw it open, but Eren’s faster. He hits the child lock button and slams his own door behind him, storming around the car.

“The fucking child lock button?” You leap out of your seat once he’s opened your door, glaring up at him with your fists curled by your sides. “Is that what I am, Eren, a child?”

“Come inside.” Eren’s voice is low, dangerous. You’re too angry to indulge his temper.

“No,” you snap, “I’m going home.”

No sooner have you pulled your phone out to call an Uber than Eren snatches it from you, sliding it into his pocket. He repeats himself, more forceful this time. “Come inside.”

You stand rooted to the spot for a beat, so angry you aren’t sure what you want to do more: run home, punch him, or kick his precious car headlight in. Eren simply glares down his strong nose at you, face unreadable as ever, rage still glittering in his eyes.

“Come inside, please,” Eren repeats himself again through gritted teeth. You decide you’ll indulge him and go inside, hear him out, and then punch him. At least it’ll catch him off guard, and you’ll have a better chance of getting your shot in. Without another word, you stomp up the walkway to his house, into the house, and into the kitchen, shoving your shoes off. Stupid fucking kitchens, you think to yourself, kicking your bare foot against the base of his kitchen island. Immature, but the little burst of violence feels good.

Whether Eren’s house smells like him or Eren smells like his house you’ve never been able to decide. The distinct scent of him envelops you: a boyish, sharp smell, laced with a hint of the weed he kept in the living room. Ordinarily it’s a comforting smell, but tonight, it nearly makes you sick with irritation. Fighting with Eren is something you do rarely, but you know the both of you well enough to buckle down. Arguing with Eren means you have a long, nasty, and emotionally gutting night ahead of you. You’re more than ready, fists shaking by your side.

“What the hell was that, Eren?”

He doesn’t answer, swinging the fridge open and grabbing a beer. He twists the top, tossing it aside carelessly and taking a healthy swig, bun bouncing on the back of his head, making no move to acknowledge your presence.

“Answer me!” Your voice rattles the cabinets. “Yeah, was the fake dating a stupid idea? Sure, fine, it was stupid, but starting a fucking fight with Jean on poor Connie’s birthday–”

“You didn’t hear what he said,” Eren says simply, still chugging his beer and avoiding your gaze.

“What could he have said to make you do that? What was so awful that you had to–”

“It was about you.” Eren finally brings his eyes to yours, staring you down through the little hairs that have escaped his bun with such intensity that it nearly knocks you clean on your ass.

Your heart stutters. “You– what did he say?”

“Told me if I wanted to taste your ‘slutty pussy’ so bad, I could just smell his breath. S’why he spit in my face.” Eren’s fingers wrap and unwrap around the beer bottle anxiously.

Your mouth drops agape, tears immediately springing to your eyes. No, you set your resolve, praying your body cooperates. “He…he said that?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been fucking him?” Eren spares you another scalding look. Your temper flares at his anger, one fire against another.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Eren snaps, “this whole thing was your idea. What am I to you, just some toy you can dangle in front of your pussyboy ex boyfriend? How long have you been fucking him?”

“I haven’t been fucking him,” you hiss, “he lied because he was jealous. And you’re not some toy, you’re– you’re my best friend. I needed you.”

Eren freezes, eyeing you across the kitchen. His expression has changed, infinitesimally so, a pinch of the fury fading from his face but none of the heat. It strikes you that in the years you’ve known him, he’s never looked at you like this before, not once. “Say it again.”

“You’re my–”

“The other thing.”

“I needed you.”

“Again.”

“I needed– fuck, Eren, what is this? Some kind of game?”

He stalks toward you, silhouetted by the light behind him and looking sinful, closing you in. He’s forceful and shameless as he backs you into the counter, as quintessentially Eren as he can be. “Say it one more time.”

“I…needed you,” you indulge him, brain slowing down to pick up each little detail. His cologne– when did he start wearing cologne?– musky and thick in the air, one of his tattoos peeking above the collar of his shirt, the tangible sensation of emerald eyes dragging along every inch of you.

“I like the way you say that,” his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. You stare blatantly. His mouth is red, pouty, and full, bottom lip a little chapped from where he was chewing it in the car. “That you need me.”

Words are lost on you; even if you could gather something to say, it would probably get stuck in your throat the moment it materialized. His presence is choking you. He brings one of those massive hands up, cupping your jaw, running a thumb over your lip. His posture, looming over you, is demanding, almost hungry.

“Do you still?”

“Still?”

“Need me.”

You blink, eyes still watery. “How?”

“You’re a smart girl,” Eren murmurs, hot breath laced with beer fanning over your face, “you know. You’ve always known.”

You do know. When he ghosted a hand over your thighs at the bar, when you fell asleep on his chest watching a movie, the way he had kissed your head, nearly fought Jean, protected you at every twist and turn. You had kept it relegated to the recesses of your brain, slid a hand between your legs and allowed it to simmer to the surface, maybe for a moment, before pushing it back down. You had always known. He has you on the edge of a cliff, and with a thin gasp, you understand him now: he wants you to jump. And so do you.

“I still need you. Now.”

Something critical snaps in both of you. The countertop digs into your lower back, a beautiful, aching pain blooming up your spine to meet the sting of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. He’s kissing you; this magnetic, maddening man is kissing you, hard. It’s all tongue and teeth, fingers wrapping in hair, hands exploring familiar places in a new way. Greedy, demanding sounds slip through his teeth as he paws at your clothes, squeezes your curves through the silken shirt Sasha had lent you.

“This shirt is ridiculous,” Eren pants into your mouth, “wish I wasn’t about to rip it off of you.”

A little whimper leaves your mouth at that, and your knees buckle. Eren catches you, grabbing you by your torso and lifting you up onto the kitchen counter; you use the extra height to wrap your legs around his hips. A groan from deep in Eren’s chest rumbles against your lips as he rolls his clothed cock insistently against you. The low, simmering heat in your stomach catches fire; he’s big, even through both of your pants, rubbing himself into where you need him most. A hand creeps up your neck, grabbing a fistful of hair and forcing you to look up at him. It hits you how large he is; six feet and some change of taut, corded muscle, bad intentions, temptation.

His voice is quiet and controlled, so close to your face that his nose moves against yours as he speaks. “I’m going to take you to my room. If that’s not okay with you, I need you to say it right now.”

You nod urgently, relishing the burn in your scalp where he holds your hair tight. “I want it- want you.”

Eren slides you off of the kitchen counter and holds you firmly around his waist, making a beeline for his room. You mouth at his neck, enjoying the little grunts he makes against your ear. You drop unceremoniously onto the bed, left to watch as he tears off his shirt.

Oh, and do you watch. It’s difficult to comprehend that your best friend is the man standing above you. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times, but not like this: chest heaving, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, muscles flexing as he reaches for your shirt, ripping it from you and tossing it away. Your eyes draw towards the defined v leading down beneath his jeans, and you wonder how it might taste under your tongue.

Your bra comes next, Eren moving down to take your lips in his again as he deals with the clasp. He pushes you onto your back, kissing down your neck, sneaking harsh bites in between the gentle presses of his lips.

“Careful, Eren– you’ll leave marks,” you gasp, pulling at his hair.

“Good,” Eren replies against your neck, emphasizing his point with another deep bite to your neck, “you wanted everyone to think I was your little boyfriend, didn’t you? Let them see.”

Your panties grow damp and hot against your core at that; you have no other response than to choke out a stunted moan.

“Fuck, you have no idea,” he growls, traveling down, teeth scraping the top of your breast, “what you do to me. How long I’ve wanted you.”

Your mind falters, caught in the crosswires of Eren’s confession and the way you’re clutching his head to your breasts, fingers desperately threaded in his dark hair and pulling him as close as you could get him. His mouth is so hot it burns, even against your feverish skin.

“Remember…” Eren muses, mouthing his way down your stomach, “remember college? When you’d wear those slutty little dresses out?”

“I remember,” you breathe, impatient and urging him towards your lower half.

“Used to come home from the bar and jerk myself off, thinking about this sweet little cunt,” Eren tears your pants down your legs, panties following, “could practically see it in those short ass dresses. I’d cum thinking about how you’d sound when I stuck my tongue in it.”

A lewd whine rips out of your throat before you can stop it. Eren’s pressing your thighs open now, and his words and the quick little swipes he’s making across your clit are making you dizzy.

“Fuck…” Eren trails off, eyes wide, “got such a pretty pussy. Just look at you.”

“Eren, please,” you’ve never been the begging type, but the bright green eyes peering up at you from where your legs are propped open by broad, strong shoulders take your sense away.

“I’ve got you,” he shushes you, grinning as he leans into your center. A thick stripe of a lick up the center elicits a groan from you both. “So fucking sweet. Knew you would be.”

Eren hooks his arms around your legs, dragging you down the bed to be flush with his face. Eren’s no amateur when it comes to women, you know that, but you had never dared to let yourself imagine what that might translate to in practice.

He licks little figure-eights around your clit, not quite hitting it; he’s teasing you, the antagonist that he is. You tremble under him, little gasps and whimpers puffing out of your lips. Eren smiles contentedly against your pussy, nose flush with your clit, nudging against it rhythmically as he licks through your folds, circling your entrance. You bring your hands down your body, grabbing a fistful of dark hair and pulling him closer to you; you don’t even know what you want, the singular word more ringing in your head like a church bell.

Eren chuckles. “You need something?”

“Stop fucking with me,” you breathe, inwardly cringing at the desperation in your voice, laid bare for him to see. You brace yourself, looking down to meet his eyes, and instantly regret it. The anger has faded entirely from his face, replaced by an unyielding hunger. A wet, wicked smile plays at his mouth; you can physically feel your cunt dripping just at the sight of him.

“You want me to stop fucking with you?”

“Please, Eren, I need you–”

“That’s all you had to say.”

And then, like he does with everything else in his life, Eren licks into you like his life depends on it, like he’s trying to drown himself in you. His tongue pushes in and out of your hole, swirling around your clit, and you can distantly hear the most obscene sounds you’ve ever heard slipping from your mouth. He’s so good, better than you’ve had in years; you throw your head back against the bedspread, hardly able to focus on breathing.

Just when you think it can’t get any more intense, Eren slides one long finger inside of you, curling it against a spongy spot in your walls that makes you see stars. He chuckles at the loud, long moan that you let out.

“My girl likes being full, doesn’t she?” He pumps his finger slowly, testing your limits. Your walls clutch down on him, begging.

“M-more,” you stutter, barely able to form a coherent word through your panting.

“What was that?” You can hear the shit-eating grin on his face.

“I need– fuck– I need more.”

“Magic word?”

“Please, Eren, fuck!”

“Good, good girl,” he coos, pushing another finger into you, “so sweet and needy for me, yeah?”

Your eyes fly open at the stretch, the fullness of his fingers moving inside you. His other hand comes up to push on your lower stomach; your head snaps up, and you frown at him, panicked.

“W-what are you– oh,” you hate yourself for it, but you can’t even speak as he applies pressure onto your abdomen. You feel strange; it’s just right and too much all at once. The familiar bubble of an impending orgasm swells in the pit of your stomach, but it’s more intense, wetter than you’ve ever felt it.

“Close?”

“Mhm,” you force out through gritted teeth. Eren moves his elbow slightly, just enough to bear down on your hip bone where you’re pushing your hips up towards him unwittingly. “But it- it feels weird…I, I can’t–”

“Sh,” he murmurs, mouth back against your clit, “you can do it, just for me, I know you can. It’s going to feel so good, you’ll see.”

Your eyes roll back in your head as you teeter on the precipice, blood roaring in your ears. You want to, you need to–

“Cum all over my fucking face baby, give it to me.”

The band in you snaps, your eyes rolling back into your head. You can feel your cunt spasming around his fingers, pushing something out. Liquid sprays from you, all over Eren’s face, soaking the sheets beneath you. You can’t even hear the lewd sounds coming out of your mouth, too surprised at the gushing orgasm. It finally winds down, and once you gather the energy, you shove insistently at his hand still pumping in and out of your sensitive pussy.

“You have the messiest little cunt,” Eren chuckles at you, wiping his face and kissing his way back up to your gasping mouth, “knew you were a squirter.”

He lands a few gentle taps against your sore pussy, and you flinch.

“I–I’ve never…” you take a shaky breath in between every word, “never done that before.”

Pride illuminates his face. “Really? I knew you could do it– just for me, right?”

You nod, sitting up on trembling elbows. “Your cock, I– I want it in my mouth. Please let me.”

You reach down to fumble with the button of his jeans, but Eren grabs your wrist, pulling your hand up to kiss it gently. “Next time. I’d never forgive myself if I busted before I got to fuck you.”

Too overwhelmed to answer, you simply nod again, sitting back as he shimmies his pants off. Once you catch sight of it, your mouth waters. He’s big, bigger than you thought, wide enough to where your fingers wouldn’t touch if you grabbed it, and long enough to make you gag. The thought goes straight between your legs, cunt still throbbing and clutching around nothing, and a rush of anticipation washes over you.

Eren flips you over onto your stomach, shoving a couple of pillows underneath your hips to prop your ass up. “Christ,” he exhales, landing a sharp smack to your ass.

“Please, Eren- oh!” You jump; Eren’s circling your asshole, using the mess you’ve already made as lube to pop the tip of his thumb in. “Eren…”

“You’d let me fuck you there, one day, I bet,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, you think. Your body tenses in response, the memory of your first glance at his cock fresh in your mind. Eren swears under his breath. “Maybe next time, then.”

You hear him spit, hear the slick sounds of him lathering himself up. You have a brief moment to think to yourself, with the last glimmering shreds of consciousness in your orgasm-dazed mind, that this is Eren. This is your best friend, pinning you to the bed by the back of your neck, rubbing your lower back, admiring you, fucking you. And then the head of his cock is pressing into you, and that last little bit of hesitation gives way.

“Oh, baby,” Eren bends over you to growl in your ear, “never gonna forgive you for keeping this perfect pussy from me all these years.”

“Eren, it’s so– oh my god,” you trail off, eyes rolling back into your head as a few more inches of him sink into you. The way your body stretches for him, the way he fills you, is unbelievable, sweetened by just the slightest burning sensation.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pressing his forehead into the back of your neck, “you feel so fucking good. Best I’ve ever had.”

You whine at that, pushing your hips back into his and forcing him to bottom out. Eren swears against your skin, nearly collapsing on top of you. Your cunt pulses around him, desperately trying to hold him. You can hardly fathom the weight of him inside you; you’re just so full, the word runs through your mind on a loop.

And when he rolls his hips into yours– you nearly start praying. He drags against your walls so nicely, you nearly cum again then and there. He works up a torturously slow rhythm, grinding his hips into yours. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, trying your hardest to suppress the obscene groan about to leave your mouth. You taste blood.

“Never giving this pussy up,” Eren grunts above you, “never letting you give this to anybody else again. It’s mine, isn’t it?”

You nod into the pillow beneath your head, tears pricking at your eyes. He’s picking up the pace now, and the exquisite push-and-pull rhythm of Eren moving inside of you coupled with the fact that it’s Eren moving inside of you is destroying any semblance of intelligent conversation you can muster.

“Say it’s mine,” his face is beside yours now. A hand grabs your hair, turning your face towards him. You know how dazed you must look, mouth open in a permanent gasp, eyes watery and full of hearts. “God, you look fucking incredible. Say it.”

“My…my pussy is,” you swallow hard around the delicious knot of shame in your throat, “yours. It’s yours.”

“That’s my girl,” Eren sits back up, thrusting even faster, “my pussy, my girl. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you pant, canting your hips back against his, feeling your next orgasm approach embarrassingly fast. Eren understands, already knows your body as well as he knows you, and moves the angle of his hips just so to hit that spot he had found so quickly with his fingers earlier. You keen, drooling into the pillow, letting him fuck you stupid.

Eren shoves you over the edge for the second time that night. It’s toe curling, almost violent in nature, the way you cum around him, listening to him hiss as you tighten around him, vice-like. He fucks you through your orgasm for just long enough to see you through it, and flips you onto your back the moment you begin to twitch and shove at his hips, desperate for a break.

You slowly blink your eyes open in surprise, letting the tears roll down your cheeks, expecting to see Eren lining himself up, ready to fuck you senseless once more. Instead, he’s studying you, wiping a tear from your face, licking it off of his finger. There’s a moment happening here, an important one, one you don’t have the mental capacity to absorb right now.

“I want to see you now,” Eren says quietly, “need to see your pretty face when I cum, m’kay?”

You nod dumbly, not knowing how to respond to him in the thick air hanging between you. Before Eren can get any more words out of his open mouth, a loud ring startles you both.

Your phone is buzzing on the floor where it fell from Eren’s pocket; the name on the screen nearly stops your heart. Jean.

You stare into Eren’s eyes, a long, silent beat passes between you both. Your hazy mind is scrambling, grasping at anything you can say to take his mind off of the awkward interruption, but to your surprise, Eren cracks a grin. It’s a wicked grin, prettier than the devil himself and twice as evil.

“Your other boyfriend calling? Checking up on you?”

“He’s not my-”

“Better not be. Not after what I did to you tonight,” Eren’s voice drips with ego. Something in his eyes is territorial, carnal.

You find your words, but they come out quiet. “He’s not. Never again.”

Eren’s grin grows darker. He’s nudging your knees apart with his own, reaching down and pulling one of your legs to wrap around his waist. He’s pushing himself in now, the ringing of your phone fading into the background as the all-encompassing stretch of Eren inside you takes over your thoughts.

“Such a good girl,” he coos, thumbing at your bottom lip, “such a good mouth. Always telling me what I want to hear.”

You nod again, urgently this time, pulling your other leg up to hook them around his waist, hold him inside you, make sure he never leaves again. You’re addicted already; addicted to the pressure in your abdomen, addicted to the way his tip kisses your cervix, addicted to the taste of his sweat as you lick a strip of it from his face, cheekbone to temple.

“I…” you aren’t sure how to articulate how good it is, how good he is. A defeated laugh of your own making interrupts you. “You feel so fucking good. I feel so fucking good right now.”

“God, just look at you, all fucked out for me. You love it, don’t you?” Eren kisses your forehead, face to face with you after propping his elbows on either side of your face. “Love how I fuck you like a whore, don’t you? Tell me, baby.”

“I love it,” your voice is quivering, and you’re vaguely aware of tears streaming down your face. You’re overstimulated, you at least know that, but he just feels so good that asking him to stop seems more painful than letting him keep hammering into you.

“My pretty baby, you’re so fucking perfect,” Eren rambles, “so pretty when you cry for me.”

You can’t break away from his gaze, not through the tears or the rapid-fire speed of him fucking into you. Your legs are shaking so badly you can barely hold them up; Eren’s letting a flurry of little grunts and groans fly out, grabbing onto your cheek with one hand.

“Gonna cum soon,” he huffs, hips still pistoning into you hard enough to hurt, “gonna cum in your pussy, really make it mine, okay?”

“Okay,” you whimper, clamping down on him at the mere thought of it.

“Fuck, you like that don’t you?” He seethes against your forehead, thrusts beginning to falter. “You want to be mine? Want this pretty cunt stuffed full of my cum?”

You can feel him getting closer now, sloppy thrusts punching into your cervix, the ache of bruises forming on your inner thighs as he uses you, chasing his orgasm. You force your eyes open, meeting bright, hypnotizing green. Your voice is going to break, you know it, you hate it, you love him for it. “I– I want to be yours. P-please cum in me Eren, I need it.”

He slams into you one last time, holding his hips as tightly to yours as he can manage, cumming deep inside you with a breathless curse. You arch your back, relishing the feel of his cum in you, warm and filling. Even in your fucked-out mind, you know it’s a lot; you can feel the drip of it, seeping out around his cock and down onto the sheets. The leaden collapse of his body into yours, the gradual softening of him inside you, grounds you, pulling you down from the clouds and back into the bed.

It’s Eren on top of you, sweaty skin clinging to yours, his cum that you begged him for leaking out of your abused pussy. Your eyes shoot open. He’s incredibly heavy, your breath still coming out in short puffs as you try to catch it. He slides out of you; one last pitiful whimper leaving your lips as you find yourself empty.

“Holy shit,” Eren breathes out into the tension, a humorless and exhausted laugh punctuating his statement. As he rolls off of you, you’re overcome with the urge to smack him.

“That’s one way of putting it.” You scrounge around in the bed, trying to find the edge of the sheets to cover yourself with. Eren lays beside you, arm tossed over his eyes, as if the entire axis of your friendship hadn’t just flipped on its head. After a beat, you speak your mind, testing the waters. “I should probably call Jean back.”

That catches his attention. Eren sits up, scowling at you. “Why?”

“Maybe he wants to apologize.”

Eren snorts, rolling off of the bed and pulling you up with him, bridal-style; you aren’t sure where he’s taking you, but all the fight’s been fucked out of you, and you melt into his arms, eyes falling closed. “Who fucking cares?”

“I might,” you answer quietly, adjusting to the heat radiating off of his body. When your eyes open, you realize he’s carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up. Your heart thuds sadly in your chest, overcome with so many emotions you couldn’t begin to name them if you tried. You almost want to cry again, for a different reason now.

Eren sits you on the toilet, not responding to your small confession. He drops to his knees before you, reaches a long arm behind him over to the fixtures on his obscenely large bathtub, pushing the plug in and turning the water on. You draw your knees up to your chest, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed. Satisfied with the water temperature, Eren turns back to you, one hand placed firmly on each of your kneecaps.

“You don’t need him,” he says, solemn as you’ve ever seen him, “and from what I saw tonight, you don’t even want him. You know that now, right?”

There’s something about the way he says it, a hidden thread of pleading woven into his words. Your exhausted brain holds onto that, but your heart refuses to believe in it, broken and beating wildly in your chest.

“I just–”

“I meant it, you know,” Eren avoids your direct gaze, eyes flitting over every feature on your face, “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Meant every word of it.”

You pause, wondering absentmindedly if he can hear the pounding of your pulse. “Really?”

“We don’t need to get into it now,” he shrugs, “but you know that. You know I’d do anything for you. You know I’d treat you well. ‘M not a bad guy.”

Your chest aches. “I know, but Eren–”

“So that wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had in your life?” He fixes you with a singular, raised eyebrow, so serious that you giggle in his face.

“You might have me there.”

“Better than horseface?”

“Watch it.”

The light returns to his eyes; it loosens a hard little piece in your chest, flooding you with warmth. It hits you just how much you love that little sparkle amongst the green, just how much you would give to see it as often as you can. “We won’t talk about it, for now at least. I’ll get us cleaned up, and we can go watch–”

“Mamma Mia,” you blurt, hopeful.

“No fucking shot. But we can watch something else of your choosing, if you let me eat you out again.”

“Eren!” You smack his shoulder, scandalized. Both of you laugh; your fake outrage is twice as funny considering the state of you right now, smeared makeup and bruises on your neck.

He grins crookedly back at you. “That’s not a no.”

#aot x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren x you #eren yaeger x you #eren yeager smut #aot fanfiction #eren jaeger fic #eren jaeger fanfiction

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sunsburns · 2 months

Text

kiss of life (ii.)

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite!daughter reader

part one

summary: i actually suck at writing summaries but basically this is part two of part one of that soulmate au fic i posted a week ago lol

—or: luke castellan is being haunted by kronos and... well, you.

word count: 6.42k

warnings: sorry for any spelling errors, i haven’t checked yet, suppperrr angsty, luke castellan pov as he's slowly being corrupted by kronos, long reading time, descriptive injuries, blood, pre-tlt, luke is stubborn and a dick, loser!luke, annabeth smacking some sense to luke, grover being an icon, reader is lowkey unreliable tbh... cliff hanger (again... lmfao sorry)

a/n: part two!!! thank you guys for all the love on the first part! i am so grateful for everything and i love reading all the comments and reblogs. i hope this one doesn't end up flopping lmfaooo. i honestly wanted this to be a short angsty fic but i got carried away and now i'm planning a whole multi-part fic for this, phew. anyways enjoyyy <;33

At eighteen, Luke was cursed with nightmares.

They clawed at the edges of his mind, threatening to unravel the fragile front of peace that he had fought so hard to maintain. Each night, he would awaken drenched in a cold sweat, the echoes of his tortured dreams lingering in the corners of his mind like a haunting melody.

The Hermes cabin, once a sanctuary from the outside world, now felt like a prison, its walls closing in around him with each passing moment. The moon, a silent witness to his torment, cast its ethereal glow through the window, illuminating the slumbering forms of campers. Some were children of Hermes, like himself, bound by the tenuous ties of blood and kinship. Others, however, were unclaimed, their parentage shrouded in mystery and uncertainty.

And as Luke lay awake in the stillness of the night, a sense of loneliness washed over him like a tidal wave, drowning him in a sea of doubt. In the depths of his troubled sleep, he could feel the tendrils of darkness closing in around him, threatening to consume him whole. And try as he might to deny it, he knew that his nightmares held a deeper significance, a harbinger of events yet to unfold in the shadowy pits of fate.

His nightmares were callings. A taunting voice would echo through the corridors of his mind, its insidious whispers weaving a thought of deceit and manipulation. It masqueraded as a voice of reason, a beacon beckoning him towards a destiny that promised demigods everything.

At first, Luke dismissed it as nothing more than the ramblings of a tortured soul, the byproduct of his own restlessness. But as the whispers grew louder and more insistent, he could no longer ignore the chilling realization that they were something far more sinister—a call to arms, a summons to embrace his role as a harbinger of the new world.

The nights he wasn't shaking from night terrors, he was tossing and turning at the thought of you. And he didn’t know what was worse. He couldn't escape you. The haunting image of you lingered in his mind even during sleep — your lips, your eyes, your skin, your voice, and that shared scar and your demise.

But at least, you'd given up on him by then. Your persistent efforts to reach out to Luke gradually dwindled into nothingness. Though you were still everywhere, a shadow that seemed to torment his every move, you no longer gave him even a fraction of your attention.

Gone were the days of you seeking him out, your footsteps no longer echoing in the halls of Camp Half-Blood in search of him. You refrained from asking for Chris's help, no longer burdening him with questions on Luke's whereabouts. The notes you once left behind were now relics of a time long past, their words fading with each passing day.

And as the full moon rose once more over the waters of the lake, you no longer waited by its shores.

Luke turned in bed, his mind restless as he tried to shake the image of you. He pulled the covers tighter around himself, seeking comfort in the warmth they provided, but the chill of unease still lingered in the air.

His gaze drifted across the row of beds, each a testament to the diverse personalities that inhabited the Hermes cabin. The floor was strewn with a chaotic array of sleeping bags, toys, and discarded clothing, while a collection of rocks adorned one corner near the closets, and drawings adorned the walls.

Despite the usual chaos that reigned during the day, the cabin now lay quiet and still. The children of Hermes, along with the unclaimed children and the ones of minor gods, had finally settled into the embrace of sleep.

But amidst the calm, a sense of unease gnawed at Luke's consciousness. He couldn't shake the feeling that had settled over him after he noticed the empty bed and the slightly ajar door.

Luke pushed back the covers and rose from his bed. His footsteps echoed softly as he made his way toward the empty bottom bunk, hoping not to wake anyone. The sight of an old penguin stuffed animal discarded at the foot of the bed made him edgy. His eyes trailed to the traces of blood splattered on the hardwood floor, stark against the dim light filtering through the cabin windows.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Luke picked up the toy, its soft white and black material now stained with crimson. Clutching it tightly in his hand, he made his way out of the cabin, the urgency of his steps echoing in the stillness of the night.

He knew all too well who the missing camper was – five-year-old Penelope, one of the newest arrivals to Camp Half-Blood and possibly one of the youngest campers. Found wandering alone in the woods near the camp hill just a week ago, she had been brought to safety by a group of fellow demigods on a quest. Luke couldn't shake the resemblance she bore to a younger Annabeth, with her wide eyes and insatiable thirst for knowledge. He wouldn't be surprised if Athena claimed her as her own one day–that is if he ever found her.

Luke's worry for Penelope weighed heavily on his mind, a knot of anxiety tightening in his chest as he combed through every inch of camp. The traces of blood he discovered fueled his unease, each droplet a stark reminder of the dangers lurking just beyond the safety of the camp's borders.

In his search, Luke traversed familiar paths and hidden corners, his footsteps echoing in the quiet stillness of the night. He scoured the armour, the climbing wall, and the camp store.

Luke had known all about campers disappearing, whether it be on a quest or to escape and try to live a normal life with humans that never really lasted long enough as monsters would dwell within the shadows outside of camp.

It was in the dim glow of the kitchen lights that Luke finally caught a glimpse of Penelope, perched on the counter in her pyjamas, her hair adorned with two loose pigtails. A sense of relief washed over him at the sight of her safe and sound, yet it was short-lived as he noticed she wasn't alone.

His hand hovered over the door, hesitating as he listened to the soft murmur of conversation from within. With a steady breath, Luke pushed the door open ever so slightly, peering through the crack to catch a glimpse of Penelope. And you.

You, who looked older than when you first met in the infirmary. There was an air of maturity about you, a gracefulness that hadn't been there before. Your features seemed more refined, your presence commanding attention in a way that spoke of inner strength and resilience. Luke couldn't help but notice how your beauty had blossomed, surpassing the standards of mere mortal allure. It was a beauty that seemed to defy classification, uniquely yours yet undeniably captivating.

Despite this, Luke sensed a shift in your demeanour—a resignation, perhaps, to the reality of his ignorance. You had lost any hope you once harboured for him. His guarded nature would forever keep you at arm's length. And while part of him knew that this was for the best, a small, almost imperceptible part of him couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret.

For in the crossroads of his heart, amidst the shadows that threatened to consume him, there lingered a faint glimmer of longing. The thought of being intertwined with someone who could offer solace in his darkest moments, who could bring light to the depths of his despair, held an undeniable appeal. And as much as he tried to deny it, the chance of you approaching him once more tugged at the fringes of his resolve, tempting him to let down his guard and allow you closer than he ever dared to imagine.

"So, you wanna tell me what you're doing up this late?" You approached Penelope with a gentle smile, a cookie in your hand as a peace offering.

Your words hung in the air, gentle and coaxing, as you tried to draw Penelope out of her shell. Luke watched from the shadows, his gaze flickering between you and the young camper, a sense of admiration stirring at how you spoke to Penelope.

Penelope hesitated, her gaze shifting between the cookie in her hand and you.

"You don't know?" You persisted, your voice a soft murmur that carried a hint of playfulness. You settled beside Penelope on the counter, your posture was relaxed as you leaned in closer to her. "Is it... a secret?" you whispered.

Luke noted the subtle change in your demeanour, the way you seemed to adapt effortlessly to Penelope's shy nature. It was a side of you he hadn't seen before, one that resonated deeply with him.

As Penelope nodded in response to your question, you continued, your tone gentle and reassuring. "Let me tell you a secret," you offered, holding up your pinky finger as a symbol of trust. "I am the best secret keeper in this camp. I pinky promise."

After a moment's hesitation, Penelope tentatively reached out, her tiny finger linking with yours in a hesitant pinky promise. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

Penelope murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I got hurt."

"What?" You gasped in genuine concern, your eyes widening as you shifted your attention to the young camper. "Can I see?"

Penelope nodded silently, her arm outstretched towards you. Luke observed from his vantage point, his heart twisting with worry as he noted the faint hint of red near Penelope's elbow.

You took Penelope's arm into your hands gently, your touch tender and reassuring as you rolled up the sleeves of her pale pink pyjamas. Luke couldn't help but notice the familiarity of those pyjamas, a subtle reminder of Annabeth's kindness and resourcefulness in making Penelope feel at home.

"Oh, wow, that looks like it hurts," You remarked softly, your brows furrowing in sympathy as you retrieved a first aid kit from the nearby cabinets. "You're handling it very well," you praised Penelope, your tone gentle and encouraging. "So brave of you."

Penelope watched you attentively as you began to clean her wound, her small frame tense with discomfort. "I don't feel brave," she admitted quietly.

"No?" You glanced up at her, "why not?"

"I miss my mommy."

Her words were tinged with a sense of longing that struck a chord with both you and Luke.

Luke chewed on the inside of his cheek, his thoughts drifting to his own longing for his mother. Penelope's admission resonated with him deeply, reminding him of the ache that never truly faded, no matter how many years passed, no matter how deep he tried to bury it.

It was a sentiment shared by every demigod at camp, a silent ache that echoed through the cabins and training grounds. Yet, it was a pain rarely spoken aloud as if verbalizing it would make it all too real, too unbearable.

The yearning for a parent, for someone to fill the void left by their absence, weighed heavily on each camper's shoulders. It was a burden they carried silently, masking their vulnerability with bravado and determination. But for Penelope, the longing was raw in its innocence.

At just five years old, she was too young to fully comprehend the extent of her emotions. She couldn't grasp the complexities of her situation, the world of gods and monsters that surrounded her. All she knew was the absence of a mother's embrace, the absence of a comforting presence to soothe her fears and wipe away her tears.

It was a pain she didn't deserve, a burden too heavy for such a young soul to bear. The gods, in their arrogance and indifference, seemed oblivious to the lives they had shattered, and the pain they had inflicted upon their own children.

"Yeah?" You responded gently, "How much do you miss her?"

"This much," Penelope replied, her small hands spreading wide.

"Wow! That's a lot," you remarked, a sombre note underlying your tone as you processed Penelope's words. After a beat of silence, you shook off the heaviness of the moment and mustered a smile for her. "There we go. All cleaned up," you announced cheerfully, pressing a bandaid onto her elbow.

Penelope's smile widened in response, a glimmer of gratitude shining in her eyes as she kicked her feet. In a quiet voice barely above a whisper, she murmured her thanks to you.

"So, you wanna tell me how you got hurt?"

"I don't know." This had been the most Luke had ever seen Penelope talk, and while her voice was still timid, the words slipping out hesitantly, she seemed to confide in you. "I woke up because my arm hurt."

"The cut was just there?" You asked, and when she nodded, you hummed sympathetically. "...I get those too, you know."

Penelope's eyes widened, "You do?"

"Yes," you affirmed with a soft chuckle. "A lot of people do. You get them from your soulmate. Did your mom ever tell you about soulmates?"

"Sometimes."

"Well, a long time ago, humans used to have four arms, four legs, and two faces," You explained.

"What?"

"I know, right? Super freaky. So freaky that Zeus decided to split them in half. So, now we have two arms, two legs, and one face."

"What happened to the other half?"

"That's our soulmate. Our other half. And Aphrodite gave us a gift to help us find our soulmate." The smile that had adorned your face slowly waned, "Every time you get hurt, your soulmate gets hurt too."

"Is that why you have a cut on your face?"

The question lingered, hanging in the air like a whispered secret. Luke held his breath, his gaze fixed on you, waiting for your response. But instead of answering, you reached out to Penelope, a bittersweet smile gracing your lips as you guided her off the counter.

"Let's get you back to your cabin."

Your words were gentle, a soft reassurance for Penelope's sake, but Luke could sense the undercurrent of sadness that ran beneath them. As you led Penelope away, Luke's heart ached in a way that felt so familiar yet foreign at the same time. It burned the same way it did when he returned from the quest when he hated the world and everyone in it, but this time, the only person he could find himself hating was himself.

He retreated from the door, clutching the stuffed animal in his hands. He felt a fleeting reminder of the times he would hide from the monsters with Thalia.

Luke's mind swirled with discordant emotions, each thought a whirlwind of uncertainty. He knew he didn't deserve your answer, didn't deserve the solace of your words. He had made it clear too many times to count that he never wanted a soulmate, never wanted you.

But despite his protests, despite the walls he had built around his heart, Luke couldn't deny the tug that pulled him to you, the hunger in his soul that refused to be ignored. It was a longing he couldn't shake, a yearning that whispered of a connection he dared not embrace. Knowing that keeping you away was the only way to protect you from the darkness that lurked within him was what kept him sane.

"Luke?"

The sound of his name tore Luke out of his thoughts like a violent gust of wind. He spun around, finding you standing on the porch to the kitchens, Penelope at your side. She held your hand, a small beacon of warmth and light in the dimness of the night.

It seemed too perfect, too surreal, and Luke couldn't help but feel a pang of disbelief. Were you trying to kill him? It had been too long since the last time he spoke to you, let alone stood so close to you, and here you were, the epitome of what a demigod should be, even if you were still in the dreaded bright orange camp shirt.

"Hey," he managed to say.

You continued to descend the stairs, each step cautious and deliberate. "What- uh, what are you doing up?"

"I was actually looking for Penelope." Luke motioned to the girl hiding behind your legs. When he caught her eye, Penelope grinned and let go of your hand, darting over to Luke and jumping into his arms. He lifted her easily, a small smile tugging at his lips as he handed her the stuffed toy she had left behind.

"Oh." You hummed, "I didn't know you're a Hermes kid?"

"I'm unclaimed," Penelope chimed.

"For now," Luke's voice was gentle as he held Penelope in his arms. "And what were you doing up?"

"I was looking for a bandaid. I got lost." Penelope's words were punctuated by a soft yawn, and she nestled her head against Luke's shoulder, her exhaustion evident in every movement.

You hesitated, your gaze shifting to meet Luke's. "I found her by the canoes... near the dock."

The silence that settled between you felt heavy, suffocating almost as if it threatened to engulf you both. Luke found himself wandering back to the memories of you waiting for him at the dock during the summer nights and the regret that weighed heavily on his heart for never approaching you. He remembered the countless times he stood among the trees, watching you from afar, paralyzed by his own insecurities and fears.

Were you waiting for him there tonight?

No, you couldn't have.

Guilt gnawed at him, threatening to consume him whole. "Listen, I-"

"I'm gonna go." You cut him off abruptly, your voice carrying a hint of tension. "Counsellor duties and all. I've got cabin checks in the morning so... you know, I gotta print papers... and stuff..."

Luke frowned at your lame excuse. "It's midnight."

"It's never too early to start now." You huffed defensively. "Bye, Penelope."

"Bye," Penelope mumbled sleepily, her hand lazily waving in your direction as you walked away, disappearing into the darkness of the night and the trail leading to the Aphrodite cabin.

As they made their way back to the Hermes cabin, Luke held onto Penelope tightly, feeling the weight of her small body in his arms. The night air was cool against his skin, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of shame for the unease he noticed in you earlier. He wanted to say something, to bridge the gap that seemed to have formed between you, but the words remained trapped in his throat.

Once they returned to the warmth of their cabin, Luke moved with a careful grace, mindful not to disturb the sleeping campers around them. He gently placed Penelope back on her bed and tucked her in. But as he began to step away, her small hand shot out, wrapping around two of his fingers. Luke froze, eyes wide with surprise.

"Luke?" Penelope's voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the silence of the cabin like a knife.

"Yeah?" Luke's voice was equally quiet.

"I think your soulmate is really cool."

Penelope's words hung in the air, a simple statement that carried more weight than he could have ever anticipated.

Seven hours later, the memory of your face lingered in Luke's mind like an unshakeable ghost. Tossing back and forth in his bed, he tried to rid himself of the image, but it clung to him like a shadow. Each time he closed his eyes, your face flashed before him, haunting his thoughts. Even when he turned away, the spectre of Kronos lurked in the depths of his subconscious, a reminder of the choice that still loomed over him.

As morning broke over Camp Half-Blood, Luke found himself seated at the breakfast table, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of his fellow campers. Annabeth's presence brought a brief distraction.

She slid into the seat in front of him during breakfast and gave him a strange look, slightly out of breath from the morning rush, a half-eaten apple in hand.

"Hey," she greeted him, her voice carrying a note of concern. Pausing to tie back her braids, she studied him intently. "Who you looking for?"

Luke's response came too quickly, "No one," he replied, his voice strained. Thankfully, Chris had left earlier because he was in charge of the climbing wall in the morning, he wasn't there to tell Annabeth that Luke had been looking for you. His eyes scanned the sea of faces in the dining hall, a futile attempt to catch sight of you amidst the crowd. He felt pathetic. "What's up with you?"

Annabeth raised her brows. "Archery? Together? Remember? Or did you forget?"

"No. I didn't forget."

She only stared at him, skeptical.

"What?" he asked, "why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"Oh, I get it," Annabeth's smirk hinted at a newfound understanding, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She let out a laugh, the sound echoing through the dining hall, as she shook her head and rested her chin on her hand. "How long are you planning to keep this up for?"

Luke frowned, confused.

"This entire act you have with... you know," She didn't need to say your name for him to catch on. "It's getting out of hand, no?"

"I..." Caught off guard by her directness, Luke hesitated, unsure of how to respond. Choosing to play dumb, he feigned innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Right." Annabeth's knowing look pierced through his facade. She was always too perceptive for her own good. Fixing him with a narrowed gaze, she gave him a playful kick under the table, the impact enough to draw a startled reaction from Luke. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she took another bite of her apple before teasing him further. "Well, Grover said you're killing yourself."

"What?" He blinked at her, taken aback, "I'm not killing myself. Grover's just being dramatic."

"I don't think so." She said, slowly, carefully forming her words. "I mean, if I had a soulmate..."

Luke's defences bristled at the mention of soulmates, a topic he preferred to avoid. "Is this all you wanted to talk about?"

"I'm allowed to worry, "Annabeth reminded him, her words tinged with a gentle insistence. "Family, remember?"

The word 'family' carried weight, a reminder of their shared history and the bond they had forged over the years. It was a phrase Annabeth often employed to coax Luke out of his shell, to encourage him to confide in her. When they were younger, 'family' meant everything to Luke, thanks in no small part to Annabeth's influence.

"You don't need to worry," Luke assured her, though uncertainty gnawed at the edges of his resolve. "I know what I'm doing." But did he? Luke longed for the simplicity of a time before he met you when the idea of having a soulmate seemed like a distant fantasy. Now, every decision he made, every scar he bore, carried weight, knowing it could impact you in ways he couldn't comprehend.

"The least you can do is get to know her before she leaves."

Her words struck a chord within him, prompting Luke to cast a discreet glance around the dining hall, searching for you amidst the bustling crowd again.

"She's leaving?"

"Not forever, "Annabeth clarified with a chuckle, "Just on a quest. Search and rescue. Nothing fancy."

"...How do you know this?" he said after a moment.

"Chiron told me," Annabeth shrugged nonchalantly. "He also told me to tell you that the ceremony is tonight. I hope that doesn't kill you."

It did kill him a bit. At least, it felt like it did. Luke Castellan moved through camp with a sense of urgency, his strides purposeful yet tinged with a hint of apprehension. His fingers, calloused from years of wielding weapons, throbbed with a dull ache with the burn from the bow and arrow.

Shoulders tense, skin prickling under the relentless glare of the sun, he scanned the bustling campgrounds.

The weight of his bow rested heavily on his shoulder, the familiar weight offering a semblance of comfort amidst the chaos. With practiced precision, he counted the arrows in his quiver, his movements fluid and sure.

Then, he heard it—the sound that drew him like a siren's call. Your voice, lilting and laughter-filled, cut through the clamour of the camp, pulling him toward you like a magnet. There you stood, leaning against the doorway of the Hephaestus cabin, a clipboard clutched to your chest as you exchanged banter with Atticus, the skilled swordsmith whose craftsmanship had forged Luke's sword.

There was something different about you today, something delicate, more approachable than he had ever seen before. Last night, with Penelope, you had worn a similar expression—gentle, caring—but it was a side of you that Luke had never been privileged to witness. With him, you had always been guarded, reserved, as though afraid that he would cut or maim you.

As you scribbled something onto your clipboard, Luke found himself intrigued by the way your smile softened. It was a stark contrast to the confident facade you often wore, and for a moment, Luke felt a pang of guilt for pushing you away so soon.

Unbeknownst to you, you were drawing closer to Luke with each step, your path inexorably leading you toward him. Part of him craved to reach out, while another part hesitated, unsure of how to talk to you after all this time.

"Hey," Luke finally managed to utter as you drew near, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

You paused, a hint of surprise flickering across your features as you registered his presence. "Hi?" Your response was tentative, laced with a hint of confusion. After a moment's hesitation, you glanced down at your clipboard, "I'm not changing my rank on your cabin. I know three is low, but I was being generous."

A ghost of a smile tugged at Luke's lips. He was all too familiar with the chaotic nature of Cabin Eleven, where overcrowding was the norm and taking turns on the sleeping bags was treated as a game. "No, no. I just..." He trailed off, suddenly realizing he hadn't thought through the purpose of seeking you out. "I think we need to talk."

The confusion in your expression mirrored his own, and for a moment, there was a palpable sense of uncertainty hanging between you. "Talk?" you echoed.

Luke nodded, his gaze meeting yours earnestly. "Yes."

"You want to talk...? To me?"

"I hope it's not that bizzare."

He tried to smile for you, but it felt wrong. Luke couldn't shake the weight of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach. He knew all too well that he hadn't been the embodiment of an ideal soulmate. In his mind, there lingered a pervasive belief that you harboured nothing but hatred towards him, something that you made obvious with every interaction between you two.

He wondered if this was the way you felt during the days he avoided you.

Luke had noticed the shift. There was a calculated recklessness to your actions, a deliberate disregard for your own well-being that bordered on self-destructive. You stubbed your toe on roots and table legs, tugged too hard at your hair, and scraped your knees. You started to pull your punches while sparring with Clarisse, just enough to ensure that he felt the sting of every blow. You never blocked a hit in the face, a twisted satisfaction in the knowledge that your pain mirrored his own. Together, you would limp into the infirmary, bloodied and bruised where you'd be grinning far too wide, barely offering an ounce of guilt when Luke held ice to his face.

You lowered the clipboard from your chest, letting it rest against your side as you faced Luke. The warm rays of the sun filtered through the dense foliage above, casting dappled shadows that danced across your features and forced you to squint against the brightness. The noise of children's laughter and the sound of feet pounding against the earth filled the air.

Your voice cut through the noise, "You've made it pretty clear that you want nothing to do with me, Luke," you began, your words carrying the weight of unspoken hurt. "You can't blame me for being surprised."

As you began to walk toward the next cabin, Luke fell into step beside you, "Can you just give me a chance—"

"I think you're too late for that."

"I know, I just—" Luke's words faltered, his thoughts tumbling over one another in a desperate attempt to articulate his feelings.

"I have nothing to say to you," you declared abruptly, stopping in your tracks and turning to face him. Luke skidded to a stop just in time, his gaze meeting yours as you regarded him with a mixture of sadness and frustration. "Seriously. I understand, okay? Did I come on too strong? Maybe. Yeah, I'll admit that" you acknowledged, your expression softening slightly. "Maybe coming to you hours after your shit quest was stupid, but I gave you space when you asked—"

"I just wanted to wish you luck on your quest," Luke interrupted, his voice gentle yet tinged with a hint of remorse.

With a quiet "Oh," you stepped back, your eyes momentarily averting his gaze. Were you embarrassed? Were you disappointed? Did you want to fight?

"Sorry," you mumbled, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "Thanks. I'm, uh, I'm seeing the Oracle after this. So... not technically a quest yet."

"It's your first one, right?" Luke's voice softened, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

"If you're worried about getting another scar, don't worry, I doubt it's anything dangerous," you reassured him, though your words held a hint of hesitation. There was a fleeting moment where your gaze lingered on him as if expecting a sudden change in his demeanour, but Luke remained still, his expression unreadable. "I just need to find Eros and go from there."

"Eros?" Luke's pace slowed, curiosity dancing in his eyes as he raised his brows in interest. Yet beneath the surface, a seed of annoyance sprouted, tendrils of jealousy winding their way through his thoughts. Your quest sounded far more intriguing than his own, and a bitter brew of envy churned in the depths of his stomach. Despite his inner turmoil, he attempted to play it off with a forced chuckle. "Has Cupid gone missing?"

"Apparently," you muttered bitterly under your breath, the resentment palpable in your tone. Luke sensed the edge to your words, though he pretended not to notice.

You sighed, "Is this conversation going anywhere? I really need to finish these cabin checks. I'm busy enough as it is."

Your words held an unspoken plea for him to leave, and though Luke understood, a pang of disappointment nagged at him. He couldn't entirely blame you; after all, he'd been an ass for months.

Both of you hesitated just outside the door to cabin eight, and Luke could feel your eyes on him. When you began to step away, his hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist. You froze, eyes wide with surprise.

“I also wanted to thank you,” He said, words rushing off his tongue.

“For what?” you asked.

“For last night.” He wasn't sure why he brought it up, why he felt like he needed you to know. "With Penelope."

"It was nothing," you said, voice barely audible. "We gotta look out for each other, right?"

Then, you left, you hurried up the short staircase to the cabin door, barely sparing him a glance before knocking. From his place, Luke could hear someone welcoming you into Artemis's cabin. He watched you until the door was shut behind you, vanishing you from his sight.

As the ceremony approached, the hues of twilight painted Camp Half-Blood in a golden glow, a serene yet foreboding atmosphere enveloping the surroundings. Luke's unease mounted with the setting sun, casting stretched-out shadows that seemed to carry something unnoticed. He couldn't shake the image of the figure from his nightmares, its monstrous visage haunting his thoughts with each passing moment. Yet, amidst the creeping darkness, there was an allure to the unknown, a temptation that beckoned him; its words, its promise of seeing the truth.

His gaze remained fixed on the white marble archway, half-expecting the nightmare to materialize at any moment, its twisted form emerging from the shadows with outstretched fingers. However, it was you who appeared, ascending the steps with graceful determination. Your presence seemed to dispel the shadows, bathing the surroundings in a radiant glow that eclipsed the fears that had once gripped Luke's heart. You were a blinding vice.

"Didn't think I'd see you here."

A sudden jab to his side sent him recoiling, a sharp pain shooting through his ribs. Luke winced, his gaze flickering to you as you flinched, subtly reaching for your own side. Quickly diverting his attention, he focused on the girl who had spoken.

Clarisse arched a brow at Luke, a smirk dancing on her lips. "Jumpy."

"Give him a break," Chris interjected, joining Luke's side and draping an arm over his shoulder. "Luke had a rough night, he lost a kid."

"Is that so?" Clarisse's grin widened. "And Chiron doesn't know? I'm assuming he doesn't otherwise, he wouldn't have picked you for this."

Luke scoffed and crossed his arms, "I'm the best swordsman at camp."

Luke's arms crossed defensively. "I'm the best swordsman at camp."

Clarisse's sarcasm was palpable. "Oh, I don't doubt it. The most humble, too," she retorted, unfazed by his glare. "But let's face it, a search and rescue isn't exaclty your thing anymore. You're more of an action kind of guy. You live off the glory of victory. Chiron knows that."

She was right, Chiron did know that. Which was why he rarely requested Luke to stand in unless there was a catch. Then, the flames in the torches flickered to life, and silence enveloped the candidates. Each demigod chosen by Chiron swiftly took their place, standing tall and resolute by a marble pillar, eager to showcase themselves as the prime choice for the quest. Anything for Kleos. Anything for glory.

Chiron nodded, his gesture sharp and decisive, as he placed a firm hand on your shoulder before addressing the assembly.

"The Oracle has confirmed that this quest is a search and rescue," he stated, casting a brief, confident glance in your direction. "One where you will use all your best efforts to bring Eros back to the safety of Mount Olympus and restore the lost balance. I'm sure you know where to find him." His gaze then shifted to the rest of the candidates. "Here, I have selected some of our most compelling candidates from which you will choose one to join you on your quest, ensuring your success. Annabeth Chase, Atticus Brang, Chris Rodrigues, Clarisse La-"

As Chiron listed the candidates, you carefully evaluated your options, your eyes calculating. In the dim torchlight, Luke could just discern the thin line etched across your face, stretching from the end of your brow to your-

"I choose Luke."

The ensuing silence felt like something they could all drown in, leaving everyone stunned. Even Annabeth raised her eyebrows in surprise, though there was a glint of amusement in her eyes as she spotted Luke's bewilderment. Surely, he must have misheard. There couldn't possibly be any way you had chosen him, could there?

Chiron turned to you, his tone measured. "Are you sure?"

You never shifted your gaze from Luke, who refused to meet your eyes as he stared fixedly at the pillar across from him. Yet, the clenching of his jaw, whether from anger or annoyance or something else, was enough to elicit a satisfied smile from you.

"I'm sure," you affirmed.

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mrsbarnesblog · 4 months

Text

Mattheo Riddle headcanons

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Summary: what is it like dating Mattheo

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: fluff, no mention of y/n, you can be in any house, spicy content under the warning

Author’s note: For all my Bucky fanfic readers, I'm sorry that I haven’t posted in almost a month. This December is just too overwhelming, and every time I tried to finish my fic, it felt like I was wasting my time. I literally just miss the ending, and I hope to finish it as soon as possible.

For my possible new followers and/or HP stans, Mattheo is my current obsession, and I’m literally head over heels for him. And you know what they say: if you can’t find a fanfic that you like, write it yourself. So yeah, I'm trying something new, and I have a few ideas that are poisoning my head every single minute lmao.

sorry if there are any mistakes. hope you’ll like it💘🎀

Mattheo was never that much of a playboy because he didn’t like to share his space and, well, communicate with people in general

Due to his family, he was really reserved and refused to be weak

You weren’t that popular in school, so he had never really noticed you but one day, you suddenly started hanging out with Pansy and he could not get you out of his head anymore

He hated it

He hated that you occupied all of his thoughts for at least a few weeks

Tried to ignore his feelings for you as long as possible, but from the moment you two had to work together on the project, everything went downhill

He was scared to ask you out, not ready to be rejected by the only person he genuinely liked and thinking that maybe you secretly hated him like everyone else

At the beginning of the relationship, Mattheo told you that sometimes he might get cold and distant, but it wasn’t your fault and that you should just give him some time

Mattheo is romantic and for his favorite girl, he always arranged the best dates

He was nervous to kiss you after the first date when he walked you to your dorm

Little did he know, but that sexy smirk and the way he looked at you all night drove you insane

So you just pulled him by the tie, connecting your lips

Since then, Mattheo has been addicted to you

Hands are always on you, holding your hand, your waist or your thighs

Looks at you as if you hung the moon and the stars

He kisses you in front of everyone to make sure that they know that you are his, and he is yours

Likes to pull into into his lap while he’s talking with his friends in the common room

Holding you close, slowly strokes your arms or your back, unable to keep his hands away from you

Whispers sweet nothings

Loves your smell and always buries his nose into your hair

He wears rings and allows you to steal them

His hoodies and t-shirts too

Secretly likes to be little spoon or lay on your chest while your hands are playing with his curls

Buys you everything you might possibly like, even though you always tell him to stop spending his money on you

Likes to study with you because you can actually get ready for the lessons while he has another opportunity to stare at you

So overprotective and always snaps back at people who, even in the slightest way, disrespect you

He never lets you go to the parties alone in case some creepy guys decide to hit on you

Possesive

When you’re wearing revealing clothes, one part of him is proud and wants to brag that his girlfriend is the sexiest woman on the planet, but the other part wants to cover you with big blanket and keep you to himself

Always sarcastic and sassy

Fights a lot

He had never gone to the medical wing because he wasn’t used to asking for help, but since you started dating, he let you heal his wound

Loves when you scold him for those fights, just because you look so cute when you’re angry and he has an excuse to kiss and spoil you

He has anger issues, but he has never raised his voice at you

Actually, you are like a sedative to him because only you can calm him down in a matter of seconds

Will never make you feel uncomfortable or insecure

You don’t like something or someone? Mattheo will make sure to get you out of the room and won’t let that person come near you ever again

The way you call him “Matty” turns him into a literal puddle

Can’t sleep without you in his arms

spicy

During your first time, he was super attentive and always checked whether you were okay or not

Praises. A lot of fucking praises

“You’re taking me so good, my love”, “you look so pretty when you cum around me.”

He likes every position, but prefers when he can see your face

There is literally not a single place in his dorm where you two haven’t had sex

Gets turned on literally by everything you do

He’s risky. As soon as he finds out that you actually liked it, he always teases you under the table, pulls you into the storage rooms, and talks dirty while there are a lot of people around

Got you two in detention a few times for getting caught kissing at night by Snape (you were lucky that he caught you before Mattheo’s hands slipped under your skirt)

His personal favorite is sex in the astronomy tower. The way you’re trying to hold back your moans drives him crazy

Also bathtub in the prefects’ bathroom, where you love to sit with him deep inside of you

He usually dominates, but sometimes likes to let you be in charge and see how you ride him

He has a big appetite, and what is the best way to deal with it? Right, you.

Mattheo would’ve spent hours in between your legs if you allowed him

He never asks for anything in return, but still seeing you on your knees for him is a fucking miracle

Your hair are around his hand, while you’re taking as much of him in your mouth as you can

Eye contact

He’s willing to try in bed anything that you want, except things that might get you hurt

He likes to keep his hand on your neck while he’s thrusting into you but never actually squeezes

Can be rough and fast or really gentle and slow, depending on the mood

After someone pisses him off or if you had a small fight, he always fucks you into the bed with your hands pinned above you until you’re literally crying from pleasure

By the way, when you don’t have time to put a spell on the room, it gives him satisfaction to know that everyone hears the way you moan for him

He always makes sure that you came, and if you didn’t, he’s more than happy to go down on you

Love confessions

Aftercare is a must

Hugs, kisses, food, baths—anything you might want

He always keeps you close until you fall asleep and then just stares at you, wondering how he could be so happy to have you

#slytherin boys #harry potter fanfiction #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle headcanon #mattheo riddle fanfic

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siilvan · 9 months

Note

HELLOOO! I hope your requests are open, if not take this as a (filthy) plot suggestion

you and price were alone in the middle of nowhere for a mission. It went pretty good and it ended quickly. the evac would not come until morning, so you found a safe house to settle for the night. you weren't an official couple yet, but it was obvious that there was something between you two. since there was nothing to do, you began joking around and laugh at stupid jokes, and jokingly you you sat on his lap, to jokingly flirt. he got immediately excited but he didn't want to admit it. so you show him that it was effectively like this 🤭

dusk

characters: john price

summary: you decide to take advantage of being alone with the captain for the night.

genre: general, explicit, fem!reader (no desc.)

warnings: semi-proofread, cursing, reader is shorter than price, grinding, fingering, riding, unprotected piv, lotsa praise

word count: 4.2k

note: sorry i didn’t post for a month do you guys still like me

i’m also sososo sorry if the quality isn’t up to par, i wrote this over like 4 weeks— i hope the semi-longer chapter makes up for it <3

"come on, inside." price’s gruff command guides you through the wooden door and into the apartment. while shaking off the grime and lingering adrenaline, you take in the interior. laswell’s description was spot on: modest, discreet, and unfit for long-term usage. as if reading your thoughts, price huffs out a laugh from next to you.

"it’s not much, but it’ll do for the night," he says, stepping further into the space. the slightly rotted floorboards creaked under his heavy boots, as if rejecting your very presence. "we’ve camped out in worse places, haven’t we, lieutenant?"

you hum while considering your response. "suppose we have, this place at least has a bathroom." he follows your eyes as you nod towards the door at the other end of the room, left open to reveal a humble bathroom. "hope it has hot water, i’d murder for a warm shower right now."

price shrugs before motioning in the same direction. "feel free to try it out, then. just be sure to keep your voice down if you’re displeased."

"should i invite you to join if i’m pleased, captain?" you ask, blinking up at him with a small smile on your lips. the question is laced with faux curiosity - you’re already well aware of what his answer will be.

"perhaps a cold shower would be better for now." he responds, stepping closer to you. the distinct scent of cigar smoke and dry wood cologne invades your senses as he holds your chin in a gentle grip, angling your head upwards. "what d'you think, sweetheart?" the rough pad of his thumb runs across your bottom lip, forcing you to part them and effectively wiping the smile off your face.

"i think…" you murmur, lifting your hands up to press them flat against his vest. "…that i’ll try to leave some hot water for you, since i’m so nice."

his eyes narrow as your palms slide upwards to his chest; a sensation he couldn’t quite feel through the thick material separating the two of you, but it sent heat through his veins and pooling in his stomach nonetheless.

you step back and disappear into the bathroom without another word. price’s eyes follow you the whole way, and a low sigh escapes him once the door is closed behind you. he shakes his head and tugs on the front of his vest, right above where your hands had rested just moments before.

"yeah, a fuckin' angel’s what you are." he mutters, sarcasm and fondness equally mixing in his tone.

the water felt like ice on your skin, much to your chagrin. the relaxing shower you had hoped for was instead a quick rinse followed by a grumbled string of curses as you toweled yourself off. despite your disappointment, you were just thankful to be clean.

price’s voice, albeit slightly muffled, was audible through the door. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t tempted to listen in on his conversation, so you do what any curious person would do: crack the door open just enough to hear him clearly.

"everything’ll be fine, kate. you don’t need to worry about us." price says with a short chuckle. he starts to speak again, until a voice in the radio interrupts him. you push the door further open, desperately trying to make out what the other voice - laswell, you presume - says in response, but to no avail. whatever she says pulls a frustrated noise from his lips.

"we’ve never had any problems before, have we?" the distinct sounds of old furniture groaning under unwelcome weight signals that he’s sitting now. "i’ve heard this speech a hundred times already, you don’t need to repeat it. we’re both adults perfectly capable of staying on-task for one night."

thoughts of what price could possibly be talking about swiftly flood your brain, pulling your attention from the ongoing conversation. ever since meeting the captain, it was obvious that there was something between you two; "fast friends" soon turned into a mutual attraction that neither of you were willing to firmly acknowledge or deny. innocent flirting had evolved into an agonizing tension, slowly driving you mad while simultaneously drawing you in deeper.

at this point, you’re ready to follow the man to his quarters and cut the tension yourself because, despite his straightforward nature in all other fields, price refuses to take the first step with you. leaving yourself to speculate on why only leads to more questions, so you choose to focus on ways to make him finally snap instead.

there’s a knock against the doorframe, making you jolt and let out an embarrassing yelp. through the sizable crack in the door, you can see price eyeing you down with a sly smile adorning his face.

"have a good shower, lieutenant?" he asks with a tilt of his head. he knew you were listening, that much you could tell.

you open the door fully, allowing him to lift an arm to lean against the frame, his body cutting off your only escape route. still, you try to avoid his gaze. "it was cold," you concede with a grimace. "you and laswell having problems, captain?"

price chuckles to himself, shaking his head. "i wouldn’t call it 'problems,'" he pulls back and straightens his stance, somehow making himself look even bigger than he did leaning over you. "she thinks we’re not to be trusted overnight."

you would be offended by the claim, if it wasn’t completely true. standing in front of him only serves to flood your mind with things you could do while alone together, completely disregarding your training that commands you to stay on-guard. at this moment, you felt more like a hormonal teenager daydreaming about her crush than a soldier.

"i have no idea why she’d think that." you scoff dramatically, feigning shock. "we’re professionals, we can handle ourselves for one night." you manage to shoulder past him and back into the main living space. with an innocent smile playing on your lips, you settle on one side of the couch.

"proving her wrong, eh? we can do that." price follows your example and takes up the other half. your eyes are practically glued to him as he shifts and gets comfortable, legs spreading while his arms settle on the back and the arm of the couch. the dark fabric of his uniform is slightly strained in his current position, perfectly showcasing his hulking, athletic physique under the layers of clothing.

you really wouldn’t complain about being crushed under him.

"tell me a joke," you mutter after clearing your throat, thighs squeezing together as you attempt to get your thoughts back on track. "laswell never said anything about jokes being inappropriate, right?"

price’s head lolls back against the cushion as he pretends to genuinely consider your question. "no, she didn’t. suppose there’s no harm in having a little fun, is there?" he says, sending you a cursory glance and a small smile. his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip before he shifts again to face you.

"all right, i got one." he chuckles to himself and leans forward. "what do you call a shipment full of military-issued t-rexes?"

you give him a tight-lipped smile and a soft 'hmm?', already slightly regretting your decision. just slightly, though. the smile on his face morphs into a cheeky grin before he continues.

"small arms."

you groan and shake your head in disapproval. "that was awful, price. i think i’d rather listen to ghost’s puns over that." you complain amidst the occasional chuckles leaving your lips. despite the awfulness, he still managed to make you laugh.

"ah, don’t be so quick to defend him. he’s who i stole the joke from." price confesses, crossing his arms over his chest and watching as your shoulders shake softly from subdued laughter.

"i should’ve guessed, that has 'two goldfish in a tank' written all over it." you shake your head once more and look at him again. you blink in surprise when you realize that his gaze is already on you, practically burning against your skin. there was something there, swimming in his pale irises whenever he looked at you. the naivety inside you called it yearning, and the cynicism called it meaningless lust.

still, you wanted him. physically, and perhaps even more. you'd hate yourself for letting an opportunity like this slip by.

"since you're no comedian, sir, why don't we try something else?" you close the short distance between the two of you and toss your leg over his knee, settling yourself on his lap. "we're both professionals, so surely a little... closeness, wouldn't be an issue for us, right?" your hands come up to rest on his broad shoulders as you lean back, keeping a respectable distance despite your current position.

price stares at you wordlessly for a few seconds, his clenched jaw and softly furrowed brow being response enough. you decide to test the waters, shifting forward and back gently, playing it off as an adjustment for comfort. his hand immediately leaves the arm of the couch and lands on your hip, rendering you motionless above him.

"you wanna test me, is that it?" he asks. a shiver racks your spine from the low timbre of his voice, the question practically leaving his lips in a growl. "get yourself a win, so you can brag for a week about beating the captain?" the hand still resting atop the back cushion leaves it to join the other on your hips.

you shrug nonchalantly, fighting the urge to melt under his touch. "your words, not mine. all i want to do is be close to my dearly beloved commander - we are alone in foreign territory, after all." you fight against his hold, trying to move against his thighs.

you'd rather die than admit that you're already soaking through your underwear from just this. you don't need price to gloat about winning, you need him to fuck you stupid. unbeknownst to you, the man was currently fighting every urge to do exactly that. he could feel himself getting hard inside his slacks, his cock straining hard against the material.

he doesn't fight when you bend your upper body forward, hands sliding from his shoulders to his chest, as you speak softly next to his ear. "what if i get scared or cold, sir? won't you take care of me, since you're so kind to me?" your breath brushes against his skin as you whisper, earning a firm squeeze that most definitely leaves crescent-shaped marks on your skin.

it was a losing battle, anyway.

you let out a surprised yelp when he suddenly pulls your bodies flush, your chests pressed together with only your hands to separate them. his hips buck up into you, pulling a shameless moan from your lips. you respond in kind, hands fisting in his uniform as you grind against the imprint on his pants.

"price–"

"you’re a fuckin' tease, y'know that?" price huffs, a low noise escaping him while you rock back and forth. he starts pushing and pulling you along meanwhile, pressing you down harder against him and pulling stuttering breaths from the both of you.

"tell me what you want, love."

"want your cock–"

"you haven’t earned it yet."

you let out a frustrated groan at his response. price merely chuckles and holds you still again, preventing you from even trying to chase the high you’ve been craving for what felt like an eternity.

"i want you to be a good girl, and get yourself off on my thigh." he ducks his head to press a kiss against your jaw, forcing you to tilt your head back to make room for him. "i’ve seen you stare at them before, i know you’ve thought about it, love."

he drags his lips upwards, his coarse beard prickly against your skin, until he reaches your ear. "go on. show me just how badly you’ve been wanting this."

like a good soldier, you take orders well. you waste no time in lifting yourself up to straddle his large thigh, biting back a moan as you rub your clothed core against him. price groans and leans back to watch with hooded eyes as you buck your hips, enraptured with the sight.

"c’mon, wanna hear you– don’t go quiet on me, now."

"fuck, captain–"

"attagirl." his hands move from your hips to drag your shirt up and over your head. he tosses it somewhere across the room, his attention shifting to your newly-exposed skin. he moans, guttural and deep, at the sight, and the sound only adds to the arousal already dripping from your core.

you grind down hard against his thigh, soaking through your underwear onto your uniform pants. you're sure price’s cargos are getting soaked as well, but you're not willing to get off him to check.

price moves with trained precision as he pulls your bra off, leaving your upper half completely bare under his hungry gaze. he draws one of your hardened nipples into his mouth and lets out a satisfied hum against your heated skin. one of your hands tangles in his short hair while the other clutches his shoulder for stability as you desperately rock back and forth, gasps and lewd moans spilling from your lips.

"wanna cum– please, sir–" you whine at the painful ache in your cunt, the layers of fabric only serving to block you from reaching your release. "need you– need you to make me cum."

"i know, pretty girl. i'll take care of ya." he groans softly after releasing your nipple, moving to leave a trail of wet, sloppy kisses from your collarbone to your neck. he reaches for your waistband at the same time, popping the button open and unzipping your pants. his rough thumb pad presses against your clit through your underwear, rubbing small and quick circles around the sensitive bud. your hips stutter and jolt forward into his touch as his name and another whine falls from your lips.

"there you are, just like that– that's my girl, you're doing so good for your captain." price mumbles praise and leaves open-mouthed kisses against your pulse, his cock rock hard and dripping pre-cum that was surely staining his briefs.

you can feel your release building up, months of teasing and agonizing tension spurring you on as you grind into his leg and his touch. your hands tug at the fabric of his shirt, bunching it up as you whimper out complaints. he sucks dark marks into your feverish skin meanwhile, ignoring your complaints and pathetic attempts at removing his shirt yourself.

"off." you whine, successfully untucking his shirt from his slacks but failing to get any further. price bites down hard on your shoulder, laving over the indents with his tongue a few seconds after, before he travels up to your parted lips.

"patience, sweetheart."

you huff and lean in, brushing your lips against his and letting out a soft whimper of his name in an attempt to sway him. a moment passes, the only movement being your hips rocking back and forth, and you silently think that you’ve convinced him.

his radio, which has sat on the table next to the couch silently until now, suddenly goes off and distracts you from your haze. price’s hand squeezes your hip again, forcing you to sit still as he grabs the device. he sends you a quick look of "be quiet" before answering it.

"go for price." he clears his throat immediately after, his voice slightly strained and thick with frustration and lust. you sit as still as you can, willing yourself not to move despite being so fucking close before you were interrupted. you can hear a familiar voice on the other end, but paying attention to it wasn’t even an option with how worked-up you were.

something about tomorrow’s exfil, you manage to piece together despite being wholly uninterested. you couldn’t hope to focus, anyway, with price’s eyes trained on your teary-eyed expression during the entire conversation. you’re so distracted with him that you don’t notice his hand sliding past your waistband and into your underwear, until a finger starts circling your puffy clit.

before you can stop yourself, you gasp from the unexpected sensation. one of your hands flies up to cover your mouth, muffling the breathy moans that pour from your lips as price starts to rub harsh circles around your clit and bounce his thigh under you.

"what was that sound?" the person that he was talking to - laswell, of course - asks after a beat. price shushes you softly before responding.

"just the lieutenant. she got startled by a mouse." he chuckles, sounding completely unbothered whilst sending you to cloud nine. the conversation ends shortly thereafter, and he tosses the radio to the other side of the couch before turning his attention to you again.

"nearly got us caught there, love." price pulls your hand away from your mouth and captures your lips with his own, greedily drinking up your moans. "you want the team to find out about us, yeah? want them to know what you let your captain do to you?"

"'s your fault i made noise–" you pull back just enough to argue, rocking your hips in sync with his leg's movement, panting like a bitch in heat every time your cunt was rubbed just right. price revels in your debauched state, his lips curling into a self-satisfied smile as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

his finger leaves your clit and moves south, easily sliding through your folds before adding another. he groans when you grind against his fingers, coating them in your arousal as his name tumbles from your lips. he teases at your entrance for a bit, until he shoves the two fingers inside you without any warning. your jaw goes slack as he suddenly thrusts his thick fingers knuckle-deep, stretching you out and stopping your hips dead in their tracks.

"thought you needed me to make you cum– changed your mind all of a sudden?" price cocks his head to the side. you try to respond, but can only release another moan as he curls his fingers upward, finding the spot that makes you see stars.

"no– need more, need you," you can feel fat tears gathering at your waterline, threatening to spill over. his free hand guides you, forcing you to ride his fingers as they twisted, stretched, and thrusted into you at a brutal pace. "fuck, fuck, fuck– gonna cum–"

you clutch onto his shoulders for stability, holding his uniform tightly as you whine and moan freely. your orgasm hits you like a train, wave after wave of pleasure flooding through your body head to toe. his fingers keep thrusting into you, thumb circling your clit, effectively dragging your pleasure out as long as he could.

when you finally come back to earth, price is carefully pulling his fingers out of you. he brings them to his lips and eagerly sucks on them, cleaning your orgasm off with a pleased hum.

you shift in his lap and feel his cock fighting to escape his slacks, drenched and utterly ruined by you. slowly, your fingers glide down his chest and torso, coming to rest just above his belt. you fiddle with the buckle, the heel of your palm brushing against the sizable tent in his pants.

he immediately responds, a grunt escaping him and only serving to spur you on. you undo his button and zipper before shifting your attention to his hardened cock, massaging it through his layers of clothing.

"fuck, sweetheart," his gravelly moan is like music to your ears. his hips lift upwards, chasing your touch like a moth to a flame. "you gonna let me fill up that pretty little cunt of yours?" he asks, his eyes trained on you despite the pleasure washing over him.

you nod frantically, already reaching into his cargos and pulling his cock out. it comes to rest at your entrance as you line yourself up and start to rub your cunt against his length, dragging it through your dripping, sensitive folds. you moan in tandem, rocking your hips against his length while he drips pre-cum that mixes with your excess arousal. it makes even more of a mess, but you can’t be bothered to care.

with a hoarse growl caught in his throat, price buries himself deep inside you, pulling your hips down to meet his. the air is knocked out of your lungs as you struggle to accommodate his size, feeling a slight burn despite your prep.

"fits like a fuckin' glove. knew you would– my sweet girl, taking me so well. like you were made to take my cock."

you paw at his shoulders and moan when he starts with shallow thrusts, barely pulling out before slamming back in. the burn quickly fades into pure pleasure as he ruts into you, hands roaming all over your body, struggling to find purchase. you cling to him as you lift your hips and drop back down, trying to time your movements with his thrusts.

his shirt came off at some point, but you were too blissed-out to notice when. you happily admire the view as best as you can while bouncing on his cock, panting and moaning his name every time he hits that perfect spot - which, he does. often.

your head falls forward, forehead pressing into his and rapid breaths co-mingling. his hands circle your middle and hook around your thighs, using them as leverage to move you on his cock like a toy. your nails dig into his shoulders and create ugly red marks on his skin, nearly breaking it and making him bleed. his hands are holding your thighs in an iron grip, leaving behind similarly-shaped bruises for you to find in the morning.

all you can focus on is price and his cock bullying its way deeper inside you. you feel so full, stretched out on his length and struggling to catch your breath every time he thrusts up into you. the distinct sounds of skin slapping against skin fill the room, your cunt drooling around him and making wet noises that sound downright pornographic.

"love– ah, fuck– y'feel so fucking good," he pulls back and drops his head to rest on your shoulder, muffling his throaty moan against it. "so good, so perfect– wanna fuck you like this every day, feel this perfect cunt wrapped around my cock– fucking hell, i want you, need everyone to know that you're mine."

your stomach tightens, burning with the rapid approach of your second orgasm. the noises coming out of price were animalistic, barely coherent after he buries his face in the crook of your neck while frantically fucking up into you.

"none of those boys deserve you, love. they can't– fucking christ– they can't please you, can't satisfy you. y'need a real man, someone who'll keep you nice and full."

"price, fuck–" your head was spinning, dizzy from pleasure. your walls flutter and pulse around his cock, forcing a whine out of the captain. "'m yours, sir. please, i wanna cum– want you to cum inside."

you feel yourself getting close, teetering on the edge. your pelvis aches from the force of price's sloppy thrusts as he loses rhythm, rutting into you like a man starved. despite the countless nights spent fantasizing about him, you never expected him to be so feral. it's like he's an animal trying to breed you, to stake his claim on you.

the thought sends you over the edge, cumming with a debauched moan of his name. price keeps fucking you through your orgasm, his cock hot and heavy inside your cunt. his thrusts were erratic, desperate, as he chased his own release. you try to ride him despite the overstimulation, practically going limp in his arms as he drags you along.

"gonna cum, love– inside? y'gonna let me fill you up like a good girl?"

you nod your head, sniffling and blinking back hot tears. "yes–! want it inside, please, i've been so good–"

"agh, fuck–" price grunts and presses his hips flush to yours. he cums a second later, burning liquid spilling into your fluttering cunt. he shallowly thrusts into you, making some spill out onto your glistening thighs and his ruined cargos. after a couple more thrusts, he falls back against the cushion, hands sliding up to rest on your hips.

you two sit in silence for a few moments, catching your breath. price presses chaste kisses to your shoulder and the side of your throat while his thumbs rub gentle circles into your sweaty skin. you lazily play with his short hair, dragging your fingers through it and massaging his scalp. he groans softly and shifts under you, making you whimper from the ache between your legs.

"guess we can't be trusted alone," you mumble and sigh, a satisfied smile playing on your lips.

price hums and chuckles softly. "i think we handled ourselves just fine. i had an eye on the door."

"i''ll take your word on it," you huff and lean against him, your heart skipping a beat when his arms wrap around you. "i won, by the way."

"sure you did, love."

taglist: @sofasoap , @rohansregret

#call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #mw2 #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #mw2 x reader #price x reader #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #cod price #price mw2 #john price #captain john price #sylph.writes

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wlntrsldler · 2 months

Text

another fratboy! luke installment. percy comes to visit!

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 5 (final)

tagged poseidonsfavchild and lukecastell4n.

yn_yln: baby bro came to visit so we showed him around 🏙️

poseidonsfavchild: you did not buy a single book in that bookstore stop cappin for the gram

yn_yln: 😐 go home

poseidonsfavchild: yw for the last picture

poseidonsfavchild: i couldve lived the rest of my life without seeing yall like that tho

bethchase: dont listen to him. he talks about how cute u guys are when ur gone

liked by yn_yln and lukecastell4n.

lukecastell4n: HA I KNEW YOU LIKED US TOGETHER

poseidonsfavchild: i shouldve pushed u in the water and let u drown when i had the chance

gr0verunderwood: me and bethchase gotta go with him next time!!!

yn_yln: yes!! i miss my kiddos 🥹🩵

liked by bethchase.

clarisselarue: u and luke are sickeningly cute bye

silenabeauregard: RIGHT

poseidonsfavchild posted a story!

y’all lukecastell4n and chrisr0driguez live like rats wtf is this?

location: kappa sigma house at umm.

lukecastell4n replied to this story:

lukecastell4n: PERCY DELETE THIS

lukecastell4n: we haven’t cleaned yet :(

lukecastell4n: it doesn’t always look like this trust

lukecastell4n: we haven’t had chapter yet and we usually clean then

poseidonsfavchild: “it doesn’t always look like this trust” ive been here for three days and it’s looked like this the whole time

read.

bethchase replied to this story:

bethchase: oh ew 😭😭😭

bethchase: boys are so dirty

poseidonsfavchild: don’t group me with them

bethchase: i once saw a week old pizza in your cabin that had mushrooms growing on top of the mushrooms

poseidonsfavchild: sorry i didnt have time to clean my room i was too busy SAVING OLYMPUS?!

read.

yn_yln replied to this story:

yn_yln: this is why i dont sleep over the ksig house

poseidonsfavchild: I'm gonna stop u right there

poseidonsfavchild: i dont need to know any more about ur sleepovers

read.

tagged yn_yln.

lukecastell4n: recharging on a brunch date with my fav tridelt after the weekend we just had

yn_yln: hot

yn_yln: love you 🩵 spending time with u is a blessing

lukecastell4n: you’re the biggest blessing 🤍

silenabeauregard: AWWWW SHITTTTT

bethchase: CUTE

clarisselarue: KSIG PRES IS A SOFTIE

lukecastell4n: only for my girl 🤷🏻‍♂️

liked by yn_yln.

poseidonsfavchild: im having a hard time believing that hanging out with me for ONE WEEKEND warrants a “recharge” when ur partying every weekend

lukecastell4n: percy you almost fought the chipotle staff TWICE

poseidonsfavchild: I PAID FOR GUAC SO I DESERVE MY GUAC

yn_yln: YOU paid? 🤨

poseidonsfavchild: MY SISTER PAID FOR GUAC SO I DESERVE GUAC

lukecastell4n: and the second time?

poseidonsfavchild: i didnt like their vibe idk

gr0verunderwood: percy 🤦🏾‍♂️

tagged lukecastell4n.

yn_yln: being in love is fun when u dont have ur little brother in ur ear telling u it’s gross that you’re dating his idol

poseidonsfavchild: I CALLED HIM MY IDOL ONCE

poseidonsfavchild: i’ve grown. i’m no longer young and naive.

gr0verunderwood: LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER. he always asks what we think luke's workout is. he's tryna get like him.

liked by lukecastell4n.

poseidonsfavchild: I TOLD YOU THAT IN CONFIDENCE

lukecastell4n: i gotchu lil bro

poseidonsfavchild: don't ever call me that again.

lukecastell4n: i love you forever and ever

liked by yn_yln.

silenabeauregard: wait the second pic!!! where is that!!!

yn_yln: the museum downtown on 6th!

silenabeauregard: ty!!! charliebeck we need to go.

liked by charliebeck.

#hehe silly post #frances writes #luke castellan #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan smau #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #percy jackson smau #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson #pjo fanfic #pjo smau

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moonhoures · 6 months

Text

Kiss Me Thru The Phone

🕷️ kinktober — day 23: phone sex 🕸️

pairing: felix (stray kids) + reader (afab/fem)

genre: idol!au, smut

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, explicit smut, established relationship, phone sex, masturbation

word count: ~950

synopsis: sure, having an idol bf isn’t exactly ideal, and having phone sex with said bf at 4am is definitely less than ideal. but you make it work 👍🏻

a/n: sorry again for the delay. hope you guys enjoy 💋

posted: october 27, 2023

kinktober masterlist

Dialing . . .

That word taunted you for the third time as you waited for your boyfriend to answer the phone. He was several thousand miles away from you, in a different timezone, so he was just getting ready for bed. Meanwhile, you had set an alarm for 4 a.m. so that you could tell him goodnight. Though, that was starting to seem like it wasn’t going to happen as your third attempt to call him caught his voicemail. You decided then to give up. Maybe he already fell asleep, you thought as you let your phone fall back onto the empty space beside you where his body would usually be snoring softly.

But just as your eyes were closing, your phone buzzed. You picked it up, the lit-up screen showing his contact photo.

“Sorry I missed your call, baby. I was in the shower,” Felix said once you answered.

“S’okay, how was your show tonight?”

“It was fucking amazing. The fans were so loud and their energy was great all night,” you could picture the wide smile on his freckled face as he spoke. The thought made you smile.

“That’s awesome. I can’t wait to see your show in Australia soon.”

“Trust me, it’s all I’ve been thinking about. I haven’t been home in so long, and I can’t wait to have you meet everybody.”

“Not too much longer,” you reminded him. You let out a groan as you stretched yourself across the bed, and your boyfriend laughed softly.

“Tired?”

“Tired? Why would I be tired? It’s just four in the morning,” you replied sarcastically.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t be tired, but I understand. I’ll let you get some sleep, babe.”

“Wait, why’s that?” you asked, but you knew Felix well enough to know exactly what he meant.

“I just . . . miss you a lot. And I’ve got this room all to myself, unlike yesterday,” he explained, making your heartbeat speed up. Your body was heating up at just the thought of him, so you peeled the sheets back.

“You miss me?” you repeated, “How much, Lix?”

“A lot, baby. I’ve thought about you all day.”

“What have you been thinking about?” your hands moved over your body, fingertips gliding over your bare thighs and up your stomach. Your skin broke out in goosebumps.

“Coming home to you in a few days,” his voice was a little deeper than normal, the lust evident in his timbre, “Wanna spend every second with you.”

“You will,” you agreed, hands sliding under your shirt to cup your breast, “You can have me for as long as you want.”

“Yeah? Can’t wait to fuck you when I get home. Been dreaming about your pussy for weeks,” you swore you could hear his hand pumping his cock on the other end of the line. You instantly became wet at the mental image of him in some nice hotel bed, fisting himself to the thought of fucking you. Having his way with you in your bed, your scent filling his nose. Your lips on his. His hands holding onto you tight, wordlessly promising to not let you go anytime soon. “Are you touching yourself too, _______?”

“Yes,” you squeaked out, hand sinking under the band of your underwear to play with the space between your thighs. Your skin was slick under your touch, making it easy to rub and massage your sensitive clit.

“Good, get nice and wet for me. Can you do that?”

“Mhm,” you couldn’t focus on answering, you put it all into aiming for pleasure. You were in a rhythm now, and it felt good. Not as good as when Felix touched you, but it would do for the circumstances.

“I’m so hard right now,” he confessed, his breath becoming heavy, “All for you. Can’t stop thinking about how good you would feel around me. How tight you would be. How wet.”

“Felix,” you moaned, dipping your fingers into your hole, thrusting two of them in and out. You wondered if he could hear the sounds of it from his side, but you got your answer sooner than you thought when he let out a moan.

“Fuck, say my name again, baby.”

“Felix,” you cooed his name, legs fidgeting as the pleasure between them grew. You heard a faint disgruntled noise on the other end, and a smirk sat on your lips at the idea of him cumming from just you moaning his name. “It feels so good. Wish it was your fingers.”

A groan sounded from his end, “I know, baby, me too. Are you gonna cum?”

“Mhm.”

“Good, cum all over those pretty fingers. Let me hear you,” his voice came out breathlessly. You could tell he was close too. A few minutes passed and the sounds your boyfriend was making on the other end of the call were making you go crazy. Your body was buzzing with anticipation for an orgasm that was getting so close you could practically feel it already. Your muscles tensed and moans ripped from your throat.

Unbeknownst to each other, you both came at the same time. Your thigh twitched from the impact before your legs fell limp. Felix’s hand continued to milk his softening erection, now coated in his own cum. He was really thankful he decided to put a towel down just in case, because he did not want to have to face the hotel maids in the morning with such obvious stains on his duvet cover.

“That was a nice way to get to sleep,” he mumbled to you through his post-orgasm haze.

“And a nice way to wake up.”

— taglist #1

@jaylaxies @xiaoting999 @kookthief @zaddywilk @wonrangwoo @pedriswrld @ikykleeknowww @odisdad @abby-grace @jungwonloveer @pinklemonadeflav @celestialplatinum @luvkpopp @nlklstan @kisses4denji @jenos-eye-smiles @a-l-i-y-a @channiesprincess @bekah931215 @heerinnie @fairygirl18 @cinnikoi @im-ur-calico-cat @unlikelysublimekryptonite @k-drizzle @iguanas-world

#stray kids smut #skz smut #lee felix smut #felix smut #[🕷️] kinktober 23 #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #felix fanfic #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #felix imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #felix scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #felix x reader

909 notes · View notes

gatorbites-imagines · 4 months

Note

John Constantine x tattoo artist?? Smut or no (you choose!) I think it would be cute if john gets his tats from the reader (also kind of a possessive/marking quality there lol)

John Constantine x Tattoo artist male reader

Headcanons

Sorry there’s been no posts this week, classes have started up again, so as you can imagine I’m exhausted and have a lot less free time. I’ve been using most of my free time to read JJK, ngl.

Imagine being a magical tattoo artist, something like a seal maker. You do large complex and beautiful pieces, but you hide different seals and protection markers inside the patterns. It keeps the real purpose of the tattoo a secret, but is also pretty to look at.

John already has tattoos in the hellblazer comics, but imagine you giving him different ink. Something a lot less obvious and more attractive.

It makes him pass as a hot blonde British guy covered in a lot of fancy ink, instead of some brit with lotsa weird cult looking tattoos.

John becomes one of your most common customers, mainly because a lot of the tattoos you put on him disappear after the seals been used, since its all defense and storage. He might also use it as an excuse to see you more, so he can flirt.

John being John, would get a tattoo right above his crotch, think like a reverse tramp stamp, or a succubus tattoo, just so he can have you sitting between his thighs as he gives his flirting his all.

You definitely end up railing him within an inch of his life in the tattoo chair, tsking and “punishing” him for straining the tattooed area too much, and “messing up your work” when he writhes too much.

In the beginning its just a friends with benefits situation, something like a “happy ending” you might say. John wouldn’t be someone to do relationships for the most part, since most of the ones he’s been in haven’t ended great.

He subconsciously also wouldn’t want to paint a target on your back, since hes always involved with all kinds of stuff. But he cant help but always find himself back with you, getting some new seal inked onto his skin.

And if every visit ends up with him bent over the tattoo chair, or down on his knees to “thank you”, then who will judge him.

John would end up finally acknowledging his feelings when you save him from his big bad of the week, using your complex and intricate tattoos to pull out weapons and spells, and later seal the being that’s after him.

Its hard to deny how he feels after that, and though he wouldn’t put it into words, he would act differently. Like just showing up at your parlor to spend time with you without getting anything done, or sending you little protection charms or trinkets.

At some point you guys just start kissing and acting like a couple, without actually putting a name to it. It’s a dangerous life you both live, and words mean everything, so you never tell anybody you guys are lovers, since that would make the target on you both even bigger.

It doesn’t keep you guys from pretty much living together and acting all domestic, or being completely exclusive to just each other. John turning down all advances made on him confuses people in the beginning, until they just come to accept it.

John ends up with even more tattoos, these a lot more complex than average useable seals. These are the kinds that you have spent your entire life developing, and had only used on yourself because they’re that powerful.

The league are knocked back by how powerful his spells have become, and how much damage he can withstand. Only other magic users with the knowledge know just how amazing his tattoos are. He never tells them where he got them, just because he’s an ass.

You end up helping out more with his business, and he ends up being free advertisement for your parlor. Of course, no one gets tattoos like you or John, you would never give a possible enemy that kind of power, but it helps pad your pockets quite a lot.

John’s enemies end up targeting you as well, but they’re easily dealt with for the most part.

He ends up getting teased be friends and allies that he’s getting soft and domestic, cuz he doesn’t go out to bars like before, and wants to be home in time to watch a movie with you, or just go to sleep together.

He ends up a lot less stressed too, since you rock his world whenever he needs it, and become someone he can let down his defenses and just be vulnerable with.

In the end he probably gets pavloved to get in the mood when you tattoo him, or he hears the noise of the tattoo gun. John always blames you for making him this way, because you always go down on him after giving him new ink, not that he’s complaining.

365 notes · View notes

myysaints · 7 months

Note

sugardaddy fernando alonso with a controversial age gap 👀🥲

°˖ ⊹ ꒰ FA14 ꒱ PAPER RINGS ─ FERNANDO ALONSO

FERNANDO ALONSO x f!sugar baby!reader

⌗︙・ summary — you and fernando soft launch your relationship

genre — fluff, socmed au, fc: bbyambi on ig

notes — hi guysss sorry for being mia! i'm back and have a ton of fics in queue, so get ready :) i had a ton of fun writing this, just some lighthearted fluff of nando showing off his girl. hope you enjoy! apologies for the google translated spanish, i tried my best :,)

www.instagram.com

fernandoalo_oficial

Liked by lance_stroll, aussiegrit, yourusername, and 1,239,447 others

fernandoalo_oficial Thanks to boss for the great night. #BeYourOwnBOSS

view all 92,410 comments

aussiegrit Looking sharp!

Liked by fernandoalo_oficial

user1 SOFT LAUNCH HELLOOOOO?????

user2 someone cooked here….

user3 the fact that his girl probably had to teach him how to soft launch 😭😭

user4 omfg youre so right… and she looks so young too he probably had no idea what soft launching even means 💀

user5 idk is anyone else kinda weirded out like… shes so young

user6 Bffr you can barely see her face and even then they’re two consenting adults

yourusername oh la la! fancy 🥂

Liked by fernandoalo_oficial

yourusername

Liked by chloestroll, and 41,201 others

yourusername Date night

view all 2,419 comments

chloestroll gorgeous girl

yourusername all you mama

user1 angellll omfg

user2 why is everyone and their mother soft launching ????

user3 bf reveal WHEN

user4 lol wouldn’t it be funny if her man was fernando

user5 lmfao how did you even get to that conclusion user4 i mean fernando soft launched his gf yesterday user6 lol why do i see it.. and the girl in his pic is wearing a similar dress to y/n…. user7 yall r insane jajaja

yourusername added to their story!

fernandoalo_oficial

Liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, aussiegrit, and 1,902,335 others

fernandoalo_oficial “Dump”.

view all 972,104 comments

yourusername 🐈

fernandoalo_oficial 🐱 user1 so they flirting in the comments now huh….

user2 ENOUGH WITH THE SOFT LAUNCHING !!!! TELL US HER NAME

user3 it’s yourusername for sure user4 yeah lol check her highlights she posted the same exact flowers two days ago

user5 i just cant get over the age gap shes too young for him

user6 how do u guys even know her age??? user7 i mean she looks pretty obviously young or younger than him lmfao

user8 DID YALL SEE THE NEW ARTICLE ABOUT Y/N…

user9 WHAT ARTICLE

www.myysaints.com

www.twitter.com

www.instagram.com

fernandoalo_oficial added to their story!

(Enjoy yourself, my queen)

yourusername

Liked by fernandoalo_oficial, chloestroll, and 189,229 others

yourusername yeah he loves spoiling me, so what?

view all 97,196 comments

chloestroll Girls outing when??? 🥺

yourusername i’ll text u !!!

user1 WHO ELSE CAME HERE AFTER FERNANDOS STORY

user2 literally the way i RAN to the comments omfg

user3 PERIOD tell the haters girl

user4 pretty rich and has a hot bf…. shes living the dream life fr 😭

user5 more like her bf is rich 💀 shes such a gold digger lmfao user6 literally like all this proves is that shes with him for the money user7 yall stay pressed lmfao talk about fan behaviour user8 Fr like who cares 😐 Clearly Fernando is ok with her spending his money

yourusername

Liked by fernandoalo_oficial, francisca.cgomes, chloestroll, and 201,948 others

yourusername finally at the age where i can properly have a midlife crisis #happy25

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fernandoalo_oficial Happy birthday mi princessa, you deserve all the flowers and gifts in the world. Te amo.

yourusername love you forever, always yours xx

francisca.cgomes Did Fernando bake the cake?

yourusername it was a joint effort, i tried to salvage it with the frosting 😭

chloestroll noooo I thought your birthday wasn’t for another week! I haven’t got your present yet….

yourusername it is next week chlo!! me and fernando just celebrated early since he’s got back to back races on my birthday week :( chloestroll Oh thank god… That I didn’t get it mixed up i mean! But it’s okay we’ll spend your birthday together gorgeous!! yourusername 😽😽 fernandoalo_oficial Hey watch it chloestroll 😠

user1 nando really showing his age with those emojis huh 😭

user2 SHES ONLY 25?????? wtf do they even have in common…

user3 no literally like what the fuck do they even talk about when theyre together user4 you guys make it sound like hes an actual fossil bruh they can have regular ass convos together you know 💀💀 Liked by yourusername

user5 ngl the age gap is kinda icky but theyre growing on me istg 😭😭

user6 fr nando better WIFE HER UP !!!! 🗣🗣🗣

yourusername added to their story!

yourusername

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yourusername reunited!

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fernandoalo_oficial 🍝🍝

Liked by yourusername

fernandoalo_oficial mi princessa

yourusername thank you papi ;)

user1 theyre being sickeningly cute in the comments ohmygod

user2 what a great night to take a bath with my toaster!!!

user3 if you look closely you can see me ramming my head into the wall….

user4 THE IT COUPLE !!!!!

fernandoalo_oficial

Liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, aussiegrit, and 991,303 others

fernandoalo_oficial My lucky charm 🍝🍀

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fernandoalo_oficial 🍀 = Basil 😂😂

yourusername you’re such a dinosaur omfg fernandoalo_oficial 🦖

user1 Mom come pick me up…. They’re flirting in the comments again….

user2 theyre so cute it makes me actually sick to my stomach

user3 Love how everyone switched up on them 💀 anyways i been a supporter since day 1!!!

user4 she posted that tweet and shut the haters up fr!!!

www.twitter.com

yourusername

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yourusername i like shiny things but i’d marry you with paper rings 💍 it’s you and me together forever my love, thank you for the best birthday ever!

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aussigrit Congrats you two!

Liked by yourusername

chloestroll So excited to be your bridesmaid 🥹 Sending all my love to you and Nando!

yourusername thank uuu chlo!

lewishamilton 🎉🎉

yourusername thanks lewis! we gonna see roscoe at the wedding? roscoelovescoco You betcha 🐶

user1 SO SHE WAS TROLLING US THE WHOLE TIME

user2 the way my heart actually stopped working for a moment when she tweeted that… girl u are SICK

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user3 PARENTS !!!! PA 👏 RENTS 👏

fernandoalo_oficial Forever my girl ❤️

yourusername forever yours ❤️

#fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso imagine #fernando alonso instagram au #fernando alonso social media au #fernando alonso #fa14 #alonso #aston martin #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au #f1 x reader #f1 #formula 1 #f1 imagine #˖⁺‧₊˚ 📂 ── my writing #꒰ ⁺‧₊˚ [🏁] formula 1

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mochinomnoms · 7 months

Note

I love your idea for Hanahaki! Like you said, it's always so tragic and dramatic and angsty (and who am I kidding, I'll keep reading it), but your take on it is so refreshing!

For the event, can I request Ruggie with 15, Trey with 1, and Jade with 18? Romantic; fluff and/or suggestive, please?

And if I completely misunderstood how to request properly, I'm terribly sorry. 😬

So excited to see more of your work!

part 2: jade leech x gn!reader ruggie bucchi (15); trey clover (1) [separate] x gn!reader [tags] – fluff, suggestive [wc} – 2,500+ each prompt 15: “Sooo, are you gonna apologize for puking dahlias all over my breakfast?” prompt 1: “Why is your trash can full of flower petals? Are you secretly a botanist, or is there something you're not telling me?” note - both ruggie and trey got real long, so i will post jade's snippet separately later! a floral inconvenience

Dahlias – In pre-Colombian Mexico and Guatemala, wild-growing dahlias and their tubers were seen as a food source.

Ruggie has been absolutely miserable for the past week, as one would be when they have mysterious large, red flowers sprouting out from their mouth and head. It also didn’t help that all the other second-years, especially the twins, were giving him a hard time.

“Hey, hey Jade! You know plants.” Floyd was currently picking at the flower that Ruggie just spit out, undeterred by the spit on it.

“I bet we can figure out who Sharksucker likes if we figure out what flower he’s spittin’ out. What kind is it?

Jade leaned down to study the intense red, ray-like petals, poking at the central disk of yellow florets in the middle. Ruggie was NOT a fan of how interested Jade was, attempting to lean out of the twins’ grasp.

“Hmm, I’m not sure. I certainly haven’t seen it on any of my hiking expeditions or in the botanical gardens.”

Ruggie yelped as Jade plucked a flower from a particularly sensitive spot behind his right ear.

“Ow! Watch it man!”

Rubbing his ear, Ruggie glared at Jade, who was still looking curiously at the flower bringing his arm down for Azul who also seemed eager to identify the flower.

“I certainly don’t recognize it either, looking up similar flora, there aren’t any that are quite the same as this one.”

Ruggie could just make out under Azul’s breath, “Imagine all the money we could make if we say we discovered a new flower!”

He scoffed at Azul, rubbing his eyes from mental exhaustion. The twins and Azul weren’t the only ones interested in his hanahaki.

“It’s a really pretty flower, Jamil! Do you think we have any like it in the gardens back home?” Kalim eagerly asked, trying his best to lean in without disturbing Silver, who’d fallen asleep on his shoulder.

“Hmm, no I don’t think so.” Jamil looked mildly interested, holding a hand to his chin. “The Asim gardens have a variety of exotic and rare flora, so the fact that we don’t recognize this one is certainly interesting.”

Jade chuckled, “So, it would be easy to narrow down the person of Ruggie’s affections, yes.”

“Why are you all suddenly so interested in my love life?”

“Why, we’re being benevolent, of course!” Azul replied, a cheeky grin on his face.

“Yea Sharksucker, it must be reeeeal annoying to puke up flowers all the time. Besides—” Floyd gave a nasally laugh as Jade continued his sentence.

“—wouldn’t it be nice to have some assistance getting rid of his annoying sickness? After all, with your background, you’re not the most eligible bachelor around.”

“Okay, first of all fuck you—” Ruggie jabbed a fork in his direction.

“Not interested, but thank you.”

“Second of all—ew no, gross—second of all, you guys aren’t exactly the most pinned for guys, even with your family money.”

Riddle let out a laugh, nodding in agreement. “Certainly, no price in the world could make up for your personalities.”

“Aww, come on Goldfishie.” Floyd pouted. “You don’ wanna go out with me? Why? I don’t meet your mama’s standard?”

“Why you—”

“Hey guys!”

A chipper voice interrupted a reddening Riddle, who looked like he was ready to launch himself over the table to strangle Floyd. Ruggie perked up to look at you and Grim perched on your shoulder, carrying a lunch tray with some coffee, a bowl of oatmeal, and a singular powdered donut.

Adjusting the tray in your hands, you let Grim jump off onto the table as you sat. You grabbed the donut with your freed hand and reached your arm out to Ruggie.

“Hey, I got you a donut, powdered’s your favorite right?”

Oh. Oooooh powdered was indeed his favorite. So were you. By the Seven, he thinks that you’d be his favorite snack. You were so cute. Your lips looked soft, plush. He wondered if you took a bite out of the donut if the first thing he’d taste was you or the sugar.

Opening his mouth to reply, Ruggie found himself instead choking, a tickling sensation developing in the pit of his stomach and growing up his throat to his mouth. He gagged as various shades of bright red blooms fell out of his mouth and onto the table. Specifically, onto your tray as you sat directly across from him.

Ruggie could make out the stifling laughter of his peers . He internally groaned, looking at your tray, now covered in red flowers. Riddle tapped his shoulder, offering him a cup of warm tea.

“Here, it should help soothe your throat.”

Taking the cup, he started drinking what he thought was honey lemon tea, soothing his throat.

Across the table from him, you let out a soft cough, drawing his and the other’s attention.

“Sooo, are you gonna apologize for puking dahlias all over my breakfast?”

The tea went down the wrong pipe. Ruggie started choking, Kalim frantically reaching over to pat his back.

“Oh? Does the Little Shrimpy know this flower?” Floyd asked, he and his brother slithering over to sit on either side of you. Their eyes met briefly, then at Ruggie, both giving him a knowing grin.

“Dahlias? Yeah! They’re my favorite!” you answered, blissfully unaware of the predicament they’d just put him in.

Ruggie wished he could be just as carefree.

The other five slowly turned their heads to stare at Ruggie, each looking especially gleeful and teasing.

“You don’t say?” Jamil drawled, smirking at Ruggie, whose state of mind was rapidly deteriorating. “We’ve never heard of it.”

You looked at Jamil in surprise. “Wait really?”

“Yes, these, dahlias you called them? They’re not from Twisted Wonderland.” Riddle had a mischievous smile, tipping the end of Ruggie’s cup before he could interject, making him choke on the tea again.

“Aw really? That kinda sucks.” you pouted, twirling one of the loose flowers in your hand. “I love them, fun fact, did you know you can eat both the flower and the tuber?”

Ruggie would never admit it out loud, but your cute, excitable grin makes him feel all warm and giddy inside. He’d even give you his grandma’s homemade donuts if he got to see more of it.

By the Seven, he’d give you his donuts. He really had it bad.

“Really? How fascinating! Isn't it Ruggie?” Jade asked, giving a closed mouth smile. The tone of his voice made it clear though, he and the others figured out you were the root cause of his hanahaki.

Ruggle got up abruptly, snatching the donut from your hand (why miss out on free food?) and the breakfast sandwich he’d gotten for Leona.

“I gotta go take Leona’s breakfast to him, I’ll see you guys later—”

“Wait, Ruggie!” Kalim cries out, startling Silver awake. “But the Prefect knows the flowers—”

“WOW I GOTTA GO! BYE GUYS SEE YOU LATER!”

Ruggie rushed out of the cafeteria, red petals flying behind him as he ran. The remaining 8 at the table stared after him, you in particular looking confused.

“Is he okay?” You asked, looking confused and disappointed. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Ah, perhaps we went a bit too far…” Jamil muttered.

Riddle sighed as he nodded in agreement, “Yes. Don’t worry yourself about it Prefect, we were discussing something else, you didn’t say anything wrong.”

You hummed as you cleared off your tray of dahlias, taking small bites of your oatmeal.

“Why’s he puking flowers?”

The group stayed silent, sharing knowing looks with each other. The twins and Azul in particular were smirking, while Kalim perked up.

“Oh he has hanahaki, it’s like a love sickness.” Kalim blissfully replied, Jamil pinching his nose and sighing heavily.

“Love…sickness?”

Riddle placed a hand on Kalim’s shoulder, giving him a stern look. “We had our fun earlier, but it’s not our business to share his medical information with anyone.”

He turned his gaze to you, making you shrink in on yourself. “It would be best to ask him yourself, Prefect.”

Floyd tsked. “Aww, that’s no fun! Don’t you wanna help Sharksucker? You do, dontcha Shrimpy?”

The twins leaned into your ears, like an angel and devil on your shoulder if the angel was just a devil with a halo and wings taped on.

“Why, you care for Ruggie, don’t you dear Prefect?” Jade cooed, chucking at your pink cheeks.

“Hehehe, of course they too, look at their blush!” Floyd giggled, poking at your right cheek. “Little Shrimpy isn’t a shrimp for nothin’!”

“And after all, only you can help him!” Azul came up behind you, startling you as he placed his hands on your shoulder.

The trio chuckled, coercing you to listen to their honeyed words, feeding on your soft spot for the hyena beastman.

Riddle shared a look with Jamil before sighing and walking off. Jamil followed suit, grabbing Kalim by the arm to drag him away before he too, inevitably, got involved in their scheme. Silver, now that he was bright and alert, similarly left, nodding at you.

Here you were, alone amongst the “benevolent” Octavinelle trio, now regretting waking up early to get breakfast instead of just sleeping in.

Ruggie had been leaving trails of dahlias behind him all day, getting on the ghost janitors’ ire and lectured by Crewel specifically.

“Loose flowers in a lab is the perfect example of a hazard to lab safety! Have you not gone to the nurse to get this taken care of?!”

He hadn’t had a fit since seeing you this morning, luckily. He had noticed you in the hallways in between classes though. Everytime your eyes met his own, you’d flush and rush away.

“Ugh, one of the guys must’ve told them.” Ruggie groaned, slumped over as he walked over to the kitchens, feet aching from running around his shift at Sam’s and now Mostro Lounge.

Azul had asked him to collect some perishable items that he’d purchased from a supplier, having it delivered to the school’s walk-in fridge until he could have someone pick it up.

Jade and Floyd were supposed to be there, ready to help, but they were nowhere to be found. Ruggie shrugged, walking into the kitchen and heading to the fridge before he felt himself get yanked by his collar.

“Hahahehehe! Be sure to thank us later, Sharksucker!”

“Fuhuhu~ Indeed Ruggie, I’m sure you’ll appreciate it later.”

“Oof! Hey!” Ruggie stumbled into the pantry, landing on something soft. “What the-Jade, Floyd this isn’t funny—”

“Mmph!” The floor beneath him started wiggling and groaning, startling Ruggie. His eyes were slowly adjusting to the dark, his hyena genes serving him well as he yelped, looking down.

A white cloth was tied around your mouth while your hands and feet were bound by what looked like Floyd’s scarf. Ruggie’s ears and dahlias drooped down as he saw that your cheeks were covered in tear tracks.

"Mmmphie! Mmmphie! Mmmph mmph mmph!" came out from behind the tightly-bound cloth.

“W-what? FLOYD! JADE! WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU TWO?!” He could hear the twins’ laughter from outside the door. Ruggie started pounding on the door with his fist, growling before freezing, hearing your muffled crying.

The hyena scrambled to turn on the light switch before returning back to your curled up form, gingerly untying the bound on your mouth.

“R-r-ruggie!!” You bawled out, fresh new tears spilling out of your eyes as he undid the knot on your hands, then feet.

“Hey, hey it’s alright Prefect, Y/N? I’m here—AH!” He yelped as you launched yourself in his arms, landing on his back, red petals flying . He stiffened as you shoved your head into the nook of his neck, hiccuping as you began babbling.

“I’m sorry Ruggie!!!” Softly glowing dahlias started popping up from between his ears and vines growing down his arms as he spat out petals.

“What’re you talking about? This isn’t your fault—”

“But it is! Azul and them said you were sick and that it was my faaaaault!” He froze, pulling you away to look at your teary eyes and snotty face.

Gods you looked terrible. Red-faced, puffy eyes, and pout made you look like an ugly crier, not doing you any justice. Ruggie couldn’t help the squeeze in his heart as you reached back out to clutch onto him again. You were the cutest ugly crier he’d ever seen.

“What? What do you mean—”

“They said that my crush on you’s been making you puke the flowers!” Ruggie’s ears perked up, and despite the growing blush and the resembling dahlias, he let you continue.

“Your crush?”

“My crush!!! It’s making you sick, a-and that I needed to confess to make it go away but-but-but-” You wailed, Ruggie allowing you to shove your head into his chest.

“I was embarrassed! Then Floyd got mad a-at me and he and Jade tied me up and threw me in here.”

Ruggie hummed in response. It made sense now why Azul specifically asked him to collect the produce from the kitchen, instead of letting him manage the floor like usual.

“They said I was ’ppose to be a present. I’m sorry Ruggie, I didn’t mean to drag you into this.”

He let out a heavy sigh, rubbing the back of your head affectionately.

“Nah, it’s not your fault entirely.” He tilted your chin to look up at him. “You are the reason I got the flowers, but not cause of your crush though.”

You made a questioning noise, blinking curiously at him. You looked like one of the kids back home after throwing a tantrum.

“Shyehehehe! They didn’t say what the flowers ‘re from?” Ruggie laughed as you pouted, pinching his cheek.”

“What do you mean? Is it still my fault? And I basically just confessed! I’m crying in a closet, just confessed and you’re laughing at me!”

Ruggie’s laughter died down as he grabbed your hand, moving it to cradle his cheek instead. His ears perked up as he heard your soft gasp, his eyes meeting yours, blown wide.

His tail wagged, despite himself. “It’s cause I like ya, Prefect. I like ya so much that it makes my stomach ache and flowers sprout from all over. I gotta hand it to ya, for a cute little herbivore, you sure got your teeth dug right into my heart.”

You scoffed, using your other arm to wipe your face clean.

“The dahlias make sense now…did you at least try eating them?”

He let out a barking laugh, followed by your giggling. “I thought about it! I spat out enough of them that I got sick of the taste, besides…”

Ruggie could hear the rustling of his tail under his clothes as he wrapped an arm around your waist, grinning wider at the gasp that left your mouth as he yanked you onto his lap.

He pressed you against him until your bodies were flushed against one another. Heat pooled in the pit of his stomach as he gazed up to your flustered face. Ruggie nuzzled his head into your chest, feeling your rapidly speeding heartbeat.

“Ruggie…” You tangled your hands through his hair, making him groan as you gently pulled his head back and rubbed the backs of his ears.

You leaned down to graze your lips over his, giving Ruggie a heady whine as he nibbled on your lower lip.

“Shyehehe~ You’re awfully clingy for a poor little hyena like me, you sure I meet your standards?”

Despite his attempt at humor, Ruggie was sure that you could hear the apprehensive tone in his voice, your eyes softening.

Instead of pointing his insecurity out, you answered his question with a deep, open-mouth kiss. He groaned into your mouth, returning your kiss with desperation, as if you’d disappear in his grasp.

Ruggie’s hands wandered along your sides, slipping underneath your shirt and tracing your spine, causing you to shiver in delight. You pulled away from his lips, causing him to let out a displeased growl before shifting into something closer to a purr as you left wet kisses along his neck.

Feeling your teeth softly dig themselves into the crook of his neck and chest, Ruggie rolled his hips into yours, delighting in the moan that left you.

Just as you started suckling, no doubt leaving a mark, his world turned upside down as he suddenly fell backwards onto the ground of the college kitchen.

“Ow, shit!” Ruggie winced as the back of his head smacked into the hard tile flooring, you splayed over his body.

“What is wrong with you two? When I said get them into a room together, I didn’t mean—oh my!” Azul squeaked, glasses skewed as he saw the two of you. Ruggie developing a dark red hickey and you with your shirt nearly half off.

“Aw, see it worked out!” Floyd chirped, delighted at the turn of events.

Jade chuckled, taking his phone out to quickly snap a photo.

“W-what, hey! Don’t go taking pictures!” Ruggie cried out as the both of you scrambled to get up and tidy yourselves.

Jade smiled innocently. “Oh? Don’t worry, I’ll only share it with the other second years, just to win a bet.”

Ruggie narrowed his eyes at Jade. “Alright but how much did ya bet? You’re gonna split it with me right—”

The four men winced at your shrill shriek.

“RUGGIE?! NO!”

Zinnia – A purple zinnia flower symbolizes spiritual exaltation and honoring the divine. It also symbolizes love on a soul mate level.

Pink cosmos – In the Victorian era, cosmos flowers symbolized joy in love and in life. Dark pinks ones should be given to a romantic interest.

The latest unbirthday planning was going well. Since spring had just arrived, it was tradition for the first spring unbirthday party to have the desserts be made with the seasonal harvest. Riddle was especially happy to hear that Trey would be making strawberry and apricot tarts for this party.

Trey was especially excited to try his hand at his mother’s sugared lavender cupcakes, a family recipe that she insisted on keeping out of his hands until he guaranteed her an in-law.

Luckily he’d managed to convince her by telling her that the cupcakes might help him dazzle a certain someone. She was quick to mail him the original copy with the promise of a visitor during the next break.

Now if only he could find the recipe card.

“Hmm, I thought I brought it down from my room…hey Cater?”

“Yeah Trey?” Cater answered in a sing-song voice.

“I can’t find my mom’s recipe card.” Trey groaned as he rubbed his face. “She’ll kill me if I lose it, can you go to my room to check if I left it on my desk?”

Cater winked and gave him a finger gun. “Sure thing Trey! Cay-Cay in on the case! Brb!”

Trey nodded as Cater left the kitchen, now focusing on preparing the jam and frosting for the strawberry-lemon cake, which was cooling on the counter. He was so focused on making the jam and whisking the cream cheese frosting, he failed to notice a certain someone sneaking up behind him.

“Boo!”

Trey hummed, looking over his shoulder to look down at you with your arms out and teeth bared. “Oh, hey Y/N, you’re here early.”

“Aw booooooo! You were supposed to get scared!” You pouted at the taller man, pulling at his arm as he laughed at your little tantrum.

“Haha, scared? Of you? Hardly.” Trey winced and held his arms up in defense, still laughing as you started to pound on his arms and back.

“Ow, ow! Okay I concede!” He grabbed your hands, holding them over your head as he leaned down towards your face, smirking.

Trey hovered his face over yours, enjoying your pouty blush. With a teasing lilt, he cooed, “Don’t be a brat, Y/N. Or else you won’t get a treat later~”

“Hmph, maybe I’ll just steal some later. What are you gonna do? Punish me?” You replied in an equally teasing tone, stepping on your tiptoes, making yourself just talk enough to brush your nose against his.

“Mmm, don’t tempt me, I just might—”

“Hey Trey I found your—whoa! What did I just walk into?”

The two of you rapidly distanced yourselves from each other, Trey nearly knocking over the bowl of jam and you tripping into the table chair.

Both of you answered Cater with a louder than needed, “Nothing!” as your faces turned the same shade as the strawberries he was baking with.

“Riiiiight, uh, Trey I got your mom’s recipe card!” The ginger looked between you two with an absolute ecstatic grin, making eye contact with Trey and wiggling his eyebrows.

“I can come back though, if you two need a moment—”

You interrupted, “No, it’s fine. I promised Ace and Deuce I’d help paint the roses.”

Trey looked at you wistfully as you tidied yourself, pulling out a bouquet of dark-pink cosmos from your bag.

“Here, you like these right? I thought you could use them to decorate the cake ‘n stuff.”

Trey smiled and accepted the bouquet of admittedly stunning cosmos, ignoring Cater’s open mouth smile and silent squealing.

“Thanks, I’m sure they’ll go great with the cake, I’ll see you later.”

His eyes wandered up and down your body as you left the kitchen, waving your fingers as you gave a playful “Bye~”

Trey replied with his own enamored “bye” as he waved after you, a lovesick grin on his face as he watched you leave.

Eyes still on the doorway you left through, it took a few moments and Cater waving his hand in front of his face to get his attention back.

“Helloooo? Wonderland to Trey~” Cater sang, snapping his fingers in Trey’s face. “You’re a lil out of it, got something juicy you wanna share with me? Come on! Give Cay-Cay the deets!”

Trey rolled his eyes, swiping the recipe card from his friend’s hands.

“There’s no ‘deets’ for Cay-Cay to know, not if he wants me to make him a spicy fruit cocktail for today.”

Cater hummed as he watched Trey resume building the strawberry-lemon cake, gesturing for him to grab stuff from the pantry.

“Now, help me grab the lavender from the pantry, and get some more flour, I’ll need it for the cupcakes.”

“Sure! Speaking of flowers…” Cater leaned over to whisper into Trey’s ear, “why’s your trash can full of flower petals? Are you secretly a botanist, or is there something you're not telling me?”

Cater let out an uncharacteristically giddy cackle as he watched Trey drop the clean bowl he’d grabbed, whipping around to stare at him with wide eyes.

“You saw those?”

“Yeah, zinnias right?” Cater called out as he collected the items Trey requested. “Little Y/N’s favorite~ You want to tell me where you got so many?”

“Uh, the botanical gardens, where else?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, the gardens.” sneaking up from behind him, Cater plucked a light purple colored flower from the back of Trey’s neck, who hissed at the sudden prick.

“Not from hanahaki popping up on your body, tooootallyyy!”

Trey groaned out loud, attempting to look behind him for any other blooms. “Damn it, I thought I got rid of them. Are there more I can’t see?”

“Nah, you’re fine.” Cater waved him off, looking around the hard-to-reach places for his friend. “It was just the one.”

Trey sighed in relief, thanking Cater as he placed the bag of lavender petals in his hand, “Good, it was a pain to get them out of my hair, let alone my mouth. They’re really bitter you know?”

“O-M-G, Treeeeey!” Cater gasped, throwing himself against his friend. “That’s, like, a supes easy fix! Just confess, you already have the flowers to give!”

“Ha, I know, I plan to later.”

“Plus, with the way you two were allover each other earlier, there’s no way they won’t say yes—OMGWAITWHAT!”

Cater shook Trey by his shoulders, while the latter attempted to steady the bowl of dry ingredients in his hand, guarding it with a vigor akin to a knight and their liege.

“OMGNOWAYWHENHOWAREYOUGONNADOITINFRONTOFEVERYONEAREYOUGONNADOITINPRIVATECANIRECORDCANIPOSTITTREYTREYTREYTREYTREY—”

Trey smacked his free hand on Cater’s mouth, effectively silencing him minus a few muffled sounds. He breathed out a heavy and deep sigh before slowly replying to Cater.

“If I take my hand off your mouth, will you quiet down?”

Cater gave an enthusiastic nod, eyes twinkling. Trey could feel the grin against his hand, and reluctantly and slowly removed his hand.

“...So when did you find out? When did you decide to confess?!” The ginger asked giddily, watching as Trey resumed his task at hand, preparing the ingredients for the lavender cupcakes.

“A week ago, I overheard Ace and Deuce talking about the Prefect coughing up a bunch of pink cosmos, they were arguing over what tea would help with their symptoms.”

Cater made an ‘O’ shape with his mouth, pointing at the cosmos you’d given to Trey earlier, placed carefully on the counter.

“You mean—”

“Mm-hm, those are probably their hanahaki, grew up with those in my mom’s garden, she used them as garnishes on cakes, especially wedding ones.”

Trey smiled fondly as he reached to grab one of the small flowers, rubbing the soft petals between his fingers. “A bit after that I started to find zinnias in my bed, coughing them up and everything. I think the nurse probably put two and two together after I went to see her.”

He shrugged as he grabbed his mother’s recipe card, twirling it in his fingers.

“I figured, why wait? Mom always said that it was these cupcakes that snatched Dad up, I’ve always wanted to try my hand at them plus she wouldn’t pass down this recipe without a partner in the picture.”

“Oh, Trey!” Cater clasped his hands together as he squealed, “You want help? I get some of the froshies to finish up the tarts and cake, so you can focus on those! Like, don’t even worry about it boo!”

Cater winked gave Trey a half-arm hug. “I’ll make sure they follow instructions to a T! All I ask for in exchange is the exclusive right to snap the first pic of the brand-new school couple, capiche?”

True to his word, Cater was quick to round up a handful of freshmen who he’d found goofing off instead of painting roses. They were more than happy to take over Trey’s baking, after he gave them strict rules and a talking too on what to do, in order to not be snitched off to Riddle.

Thankfully, the cupcakes weren’t difficult to make, what with his experience in the kitchen. He’d cut the recipe down by half so that he’d only make four, medium sized cupcakes. In fact, the most difficult part was making sure that he ground up enough lavender to turn the glaze a soft purple, which complemented the zinnias he’d placed in the small basket. Using the plush flowers as a cushion, he placed the blooms of your cosmos in between the gaps, creating a beautiful, pink and purple presentation.

He was sure you’d love it, carefully hiding the wicker basket, covered by a white tablecloth, underneath the table.

Later, Trey smiled as he looked around at the dorm members enjoying the party. His cake was a big hit, and Riddle in particular was enjoying the flower themed desserts, specially the daisy-shaped fruit tarts.

“You’ve outdone yourself this time Trey!” Riddle praised him, “It seems that everyone has particularly enjoyed the sweets this time around. Well done, I’d expect nothing less!

Trey chuckled bashfully, rubbing the back of his head. “Thanks Riddle, be sure to praise the freshmen too, that group over there helped out a lot as well.”

Riddle nodded, his mood in high-spirits as he walked over to the group Trey gestured to. Trey raised his head to look over the crowd of red, white, and black for Cater, who was currently adjusting his slice of cake for the perfect angle.

Grim was also with him, hungrily waiting for Cater to give him the okay to make the sacrifice of scarfing down the sweet dessert. Perfect.

Trey briskly walked over to him, basket in hand, leaning down to whisper in his ear. Cater perked up and nodded before calling out.

“Hey Acey, Deucey! Com ‘ere real quick, Cay-Cay needs ya for a super-duper important task!”

The pair perked up mid-conversation with you, nodding at you and rushing over to Cater per his request. Trey walked over to you, though he could make out Cater asking the duo for assistance with a Magicam post.

“Hey, Y/N.” You smiled up at him as he approached, wiping the tart crumbs from the corner of your mouth. Trey had the impulsive to lean down and lick the mess off of you himself, though he shook it away.

“Hey, what’s up Trey!” You clasped your hands behind you, rocking back and forth on your heels, unaware of the petals. “You did great with the desserts, I noticed you didn’t use the flowers I gave you on the cake though…are they not edible?”

“About that…I actually wanted to show you something else I did with the flowers,” Trey held his hand out to you soft smile growing bigger as you laced your fingers through his.

Trey led you to an isolated corner of the rose maze, stiffening slightly as you wrapped your arm around his, relaxing as you leaned in. The small basket was being carefully guarded against his right side, being carefully cradled like a precious stone in a gold necklace.

The two of you remained in a comfortable silence, basking in each other’s presence like an old, aging married couple on a stroll. The image made him smile.

I wasn’t but a few minutes later that you’d arrived at a secluded white gazebo, roses and vines crawling up the sides. It was just far enough away that the sound of laughter and chatter from the party was but a faint white noise, giving Trey the perfect ambiance needed for his plan.

“Take a seat right there, I got something for you.” Trey gestured to the stone bench, a fitting heart-shaped backrest further setting the mood.

“Oh? Alright.” You took a seat, still looking up at him with a curious expression. “Is it something in the basket?”

He let out a soft chuckle, “Why don’t you close your eyes and let me surprise you?”

You squint your eyes in suspicion, scoffing as you obey.

“Fine, if I get another spoonful of vanilla extract though—”

Trey barked out a laugh. “I told you it was bitter! Now keep those eyes closed.”

“It smells sweet! It’s made of vanilla!” You huffed, flinching and then relaxing as you felt him place the basket on your lap. “That’s not the worst thing even, I’m still angry about the oyster sauce donuts!”

“Okay that one was your own fault, you saw me do the same thing with Ace and the chestnut tarts, remember? When we first met?”

You smiled fondly, as did Trey though you couldn’t see it. What Trey could see though were the cosmos blooming along your exposed nape. He let out a soft cough, spitting out a lilac zinnia.

“Hmm, yeah, I do.” He wiped his hands clean, gingerly placing the zinnia on the bench next to you, uncovering the basket and grabbing one of the still pristine cupcakes.

“Okay, here—” Trey took the sugared lavender stem and held it up to you mouth. “—open up and say ‘aah’~”

“Pfft—okay, aaaah~” Grinning, Trey placed the stem on your tongue and watched as you slowly chewed.

“Well? How’s that taste?”

You hummed. “It’s sweet, flowery…it tastes like the evening tea Riddle has before bed…soooo lavender?”

Trey hummed in affirmation. “That’s right, now take a bite of this.” He unfolded the wrapper off of the cupcake, holding it up as you took a small bite.

“Mmmh! Trey!” Your moan of delight caused a pleasurable shiver down his spine, less than pure thoughts filling his head. “It’s so good, it’s lavender too? Is it a cookie…no wait, a cupcake!”

“Heh, good guess, I have one last thing for you to taste, ‘kay?”

He watched as you eagerly nodded, mouth open for the next treat. Trey leaned down, hovering his lips over you own, noticing the light purple glaze still on your bottom lip.

Feeling his breath over your own, you stuttered out, “T-trey? What are you—mmph!”

Trey gently, but firmly pressed his lips to yours, licking the glaze and swiping his tongue along your lip as you opened up to let him in. Your hands reached to tug him by the lapel, returning his kiss with eagerness and tugging him closer and closer, gasps leaving both of your lips.

Still hands were now wandering, gliding up your thighs and along the curve of your back, deciding to settle on the backrest. Trey found himself leaning down to match your height, knee settled in between your thighs.

A beguiling groan rang from between your mouths, from who you didn’t know, then another as Trey’s tongue met your own. Then a gasp as you felt his hand hook underneath you as he lifted you to curl against his body, left hand still cradling and rubbing soothing circles at the small of your back.

Your back was so far arched, chest meeting chest, that you moved your hands from their steel grip on his lapels to instead wrap around his shoulder and neck as he dipped you further to feel your body press into his.

Trey licked your lower lip again, positive he could still taste the sweet lavender on your lip, causing you to whine as he instead took your lower lip between his teeth and tug. Breaking the kiss to observe your red face, gasping breaths, and half lidded eyes.

He has to say, of all the cakes, cookies, and pastries he’s made and tried over the years, you were by far the sweetest, and most divine treat he’s tasted. Trey decided that he needed another taste to confirm as he lips met yours for another passionate kiss.

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