#if you've been hanging around here you probably know how my tastes are but anyway

[margowritesthings]

A Job Well Done

pairing: Arthur Morgan x reader (f) word count: 4944 words warnings: 18+ minors dni, sexually explicit, oral (f giving), rough oral, a little choking, a touch of voyeurism, explicit language, it's pretty much a blowjob fic authors note: idk what to say... this started as a little drabble because me and my fiancé love having a little smoke together at night and.... well, here we are I guess?? i hope you enjoy you lovely lot, and if you've asked to be tagged and you're not please let me know!! I have a new system for keeping track of my taglist and I may have lost some requests in the transfer

taglist: @cowboydisaster @inkandbloodbound @counteveryfreckle @elifsukirdaghehe @reaveries @delilah-grimes @mrsarthurmorgan7 @twola@the-marsh-harrier @wildfloweroutlaw @photo1030 @luvliewriting@pine4pple-b0i *if i've missed you please let me know!!!*

You pull Arthur’s jacket tighter around your shoulders, settling into the old wooden chair while it creaks beneath you. Thanks to being in the middle of the Lemoyne swamps, it isn’t too cold despite the moon hanging so high in the sky above you, the jacket is more for comfort. From where you sit, you can see near the whole camp, watching lanterns flicker off incrementally as each member of your makeshift family retires for the night. A few of the boys stay up, drinking by the fire, their voices muffled and distant in the thick air.

It’s been a week to the day since you last saw Arthur, before he left to track a rather sizable bounty down and attempt to cushion out the camp funds, and God do you miss him. The days feel so much longer, nights so lonely you’ve considered saddling up and finding the bastard yourself just to bring him home sooner. Comfort can be found, though, in the ways Arthur’s presence has bled so deeply into your life that his physical being doesn’t even need to be here. 

His smell lingers on the jacket he left (the one he wore every day before he had to leave just so you could wear it when you missed him), that perfect mix of tobacco and whiskey and something so ineffably Arthur that you soak up every time you wrap it around your frame. 

He’s there in the routines you've built your lives around, intertwined as they are, the ones you can’t shake even if he’s not beside you. The cup of coffee in a morning, his so much better tasting than yours but you try anyway. The first morning after he left, you made two, ending up giving the extra to a very grateful Abigail to save face.

There’s a nightly routine, too. The one where you get ready for bed, then climb through the window to meet him on your balcony. He’s always there waiting with a cigarette hanging from his lips, patting his lap ready for you to crawl on. He’ll drag a match across his boot, (or sometimes the bottom of yours, if you’re still wearing them) lighting up the smoke before handing it to you. You’ll pass it between each other, catching up on your days, limbs entangled just how they should be as you watch Shady Belle fall asleep around you. 

Without him, those routines bring you comfort, grasping onto the remnants of your cowboy until his safe return. That’s why you’re sitting in this spot, pulling a cigar out of the little tin stash box Arthur left behind. Normally it’s just a cigarette, you could never survive a cigar a night and have the throat to tell the tale, but there’s something inexplicably Arthur about this brand of smokes, something you’re seeking tonight. 

You pluck a match from the tin, striking it against the table beside you, never having gotten the knack of igniting the thing on your boot as effortlessly as Arthur does, and light the cigar between your lips. The all-familiar woody essence dances across your tongue, your tired muscles relaxing from the first few tokes. 

It’s just you, the moon and the crickets as you sit on the balcony, Arthur’s smoke between your lips. You wonder what he’s doing. He should be sleeping, but knowing him he’s probably up planning, or doing exactly what you are right now. You pray he’s safe, hasn’t been gotten by the law or worse, gotten himself killed. You can’t let yourself even think about that, the very idea bringing a tremble to your limbs. To combat the sudden spike in anxiety, the next time you bring the cigar to your lips you drag in just that bit more smoke, letting it soak down your spine. Not nearly as experienced in smoking as Arthur, you cough a little, but you recover much quicker than you used to. 

Memories of that first time, of Arthur offering you the little brown stick and you nervously nodding, bring a little smile to your face. Oh, how you spluttered, Arthur giving you his drink on instinct, only realising that the whiskey burn would do the opposite of help once it was too late. You’d have been in your right mind to be embarrassed as hell, but by the way he chuckled as he rubbed circles around your back told you that he found it nothing but adorable. 

You sit there for a few minutes, basking in the precious peace so seldom found nowadays and taking a drag every now and then, the smoke riding a sigh from your lips. Your eyes slip closed, trying to shut off as many senses as you can to really connect with that smell and taste, imagining him emerging from your bedroom window to be here with you. 

He’s much less graceful than you are, often catching some part of his person on the windowsill when he climbs out onto the balcony. So many nights spent patching up little holes in his pant legs, right where that out sticking nail used to be in the frame before he ‘bested it in combat’ (i.e. pulled it out with a hunting knife and threw it ceremoniously in the lake). 

Manifestation is a powerful tool, you’ve always believed that, but you still nearly jump out of your skin when you feel a large hand grasp your shoulder just as you imagined, Arthur’s gruff, hushed whisper tickling the words “hey, sweetheart” into the skin of your neck. It takes you a second to catch your breath, heart racing from the shock before everything registers and reality sets in. 

“Arthur?”

He’s here.

“C’mere, darlin’.”

You fly out of your seat, the rickety old thing nearly splintering under the force, launching yourself into his open arms to burrow yourself into him.  Every part of him consumes your senses and you drink it all in like an addict. The smell, the real thing, much more of that Arthur essence than the whiskey or cigars, probably because he forewent breaks in his journey for those little pleasures to get back to you sooner. 

He seems to be taking you in as much as you are him, inhaling long through his nose and sighing it out contentedly, feeling whole again after so long without you in his arms.

“I missed ya’, beautiful.” He says softly into your hair, holding you tight against him, his knuckles brushing up and down the small of your back through layers of clothes you’ve stolen from him. 

“I missed you so much…” You mumble into his shirt, hardly able to breathe through the wall of hard chest muscle you’re pressed against, caring even less. 

It’s only then do you remember the cigar, forgotten and abandoned, smoking away on the table propped up on a jar lid turned makeshift ashtray. Most of the boys don’t bother with one, and neither did Arthur, until a fateful night a few months before you started dating when you first handed him the jar and told him you read something about birds and rabbits eating the butts of cigarettes. He kept the little piece of junk right next to his bedside, waiting for you to find it after that first night together. 

Arthur spots your momentary pull of attention, pulling his chest away to raise a brow down at you with a little chuckle rumbling his chest.

“Having a fancy smoke of a night, are we?” 

A cheeky little smirk- Arthur’s favourite, actually- tugs at the corner of your lips, waiting patiently for him to kiss it away.

“The smell reminds me of you…” you play coy, earring yourself that kiss when Arthur lifts you up to his height, kissing you softly, letting his world and yours fall back into place together. 

“Well I’m here now, angel. Wanna sit? Could do with a nice cigar with my girl to celebrate a job well done.” 

You’re eager to nod, heart fluttering at the prospect of getting to sit with him and hear all about his trip. He untangles from you to sit down first, patting his lap for you to crawl into. You fit perfectly together (you should do, you were made for eachother), head resting on his shoulder, legs splayed over his thighs with your arm draped over his shoulder. The cigar has gone out, so Arthur strikes a match so expertly on his spurs before shaking it out and placing his hand on the small of your back for support. You lean into him, watching him take puffs of the cigar and feeling the tiniest bit of tension leave his joints. He looks so natural with a smoke between his teeth, commanding an air of power with each movement he makes. Smoking doesn’t suit just everyone, you think, but God, does it suit him.

“We’re celebrating? You got the bastard, then?”

“Sure did,” he says, smoke spilling from his lips with each syllable. Arthur looks you over again, drinking in the dearly missed view, before kissing you on the forehead and flipping the cigar between his fingers to offer it up, “Eventually found him up in Fort Brennand, but he weren’t alone. Nearly lost a damn eye, but luckily only Woffard had to be brought in alive, so I dropped the other bastards and ran.”

You hang on his every word, your hero. You know he’s downplaying the fight, the danger of it all, but he does it so that you don’t worry every time he’s gone. It never works, and you always do, but you love him for trying. 

“Oh, Arthur, I’m so glad you’re alright…” You coo, pressing a hand to his cheek, feeling the weeks worth of stubble scratching against your palm. He nuzzles into your touch, not unlike a cat, and your find yourself keeping your hand there to mindlessly play with his hair, tipping his hat off to put on your own head. He chuckles, reaching to adjust it on you.

“Course I am, couldn’t leave you here all alone with this buncha’ fools, could I? Besides, someones gotta bring home the bacon around here, and you know Marston’s too trigger happy to bring a bounty in alive.”

“So you got the full price?” Your eyes gleam, the proudest smile on your features as Arthur nods and shifts both your weights for a moment to pull out a stack of bills and smack them on the table dramatically.

“You’re damn straight I did, baby.”

Of course he did. Arthur never fails, and God knows how much the camp needs this right now, freedoms diminishing by the day as Dutch makes more enemies and plans jobs that just seem to keep going wrong. But you don’t want to think about that right now. Right now, there is only you and Arthur, and the promise of a whole night spent with him uninterrupted. You hand him the cigar back, along with a stolen kiss, and he takes another mesmerising drag. The way he holds it, every so often tipping the ash into the first gift you ever gave him, it does things to you that you just can’t explain. It’s just a cigar, and yet you’re pressing your thighs together tight to futilely subdue the tightness coiling between them. 

“I’m so proud of you… I always am.” Unkempt locks of hair are twisted between your fingers, your face so close to Arthur’s you can pepper his cheek, temple and lips, whenever not occupied, with little kisses, Arthur’s hat sometimes tipping up against his forehead on your head. The two of you are always like this after a few days apart, unable to get enough of each other or keep your hands off one another. You shift your weight to access him better, catching his bottom lip between your teeth to press a long, tender kiss there. He hums under you, hand splaying under your jacket to grasp at your shirt. It’s seconds before you feel it, that hardening that nudges up against your thigh, prodding and reminding you just how much Arthur has missed you.

You pull away from the kiss, just enough to raise a teasing brow at how sensitive your cowboy is to your touch. He shrugs, unashamed, with that cheeky grin and those glistening eyes directed right at you. 

“What? I missed ya…” His words are accompanied with a pinch of your ass, which makes you writhe on top of his stiffness, the friction dragging a low growl from deep within his chest. 

“I can see that, cowboy… I missed you too. I missed you more.” You emphasise, nipping at his lip again and splaying your fingers across his chest. He rises to your touch, and you feel him stiffen more so under you. It takes a second of manoeuvring, but you’re soon straddling him, hovering above him like the angel he sees you to be. From this angle, with the moon behind you, you’re glowing. 

“You absolutely did not, you little siren…” He growls again, pulling at the flesh of your ass so that you’re grinding against him, the friction of denim against denim igniting you both and burning so wonderfully. 

“Oh, yeah? I can prove it.” There’s a little cock of your head, a raise of one teasing brow as you start to slide off him. He looks confused, disappointed, even, until your knees rest on the planks of wood on the balcony floor and he instinctively spreads his legs to give you the space between them. Your fingers splay across his thick thighs, and they tense under your touch, as does Arthur’s jaw. He’s starved after a week without you, clearly trying to reign in a control he’s struggling to possess. There’s no wonder, having his girl knelt before him like this. 

“You wanna take this to the bedroom?” He growls out, abandoning the still smoking cigar in the jar lid. You look up at him, peeking out from under the rim of his hat. 

“No.” You reach for the cigar, taking a few drags yourself before flipping it in your fingers just like he did and placing it between his teeth, “Finish your smoke.”

A distant laugh captures Arthur’s attention for a second, reminding you both just how close you are to the other gang members. You’re somewhat hidden by the railing, but if they looked in your direction, Arthur is fully visible from the chest up. A simple bob of your head- and you’re planning on plenty- would bring you into view. 

The look Arthur gives you when he quickly diverts his attention back from Marston and the others is downright feral, especially when your hands reach for his belt buckle. Nimble fingers make quick word of the obstruction, and you’re soon pulling Arthur’s thick, long length out from his jeans. He groans at your very touch, involuntarily bucking his hips up into your hand. 

You laugh, the sound a tempting little giggle as you tell him “Patience, cowboy…” 

He almost snarls in response, clearly having been goddamn patient enough over the last week where all he could do is fuck himself with your name on his lips and the thought of you knelt just like this between his legs at the forefront of his mind, always. 

Just as you lean in, when your soft lips trace over his rosy, swollen head, he pulls you back by plucking his hat from atop your head and throwing it to the side. He rests the cigar between the fingers of his free hand to free his mouth to speak to you.

“Need to see you while I fuck that pretty little moutha’ yours, angel…”

His words soak through you (and soak you through), and you just can’t wait a second longer, needy to have his cock deep down your throat, desperate for the burning of your lungs and the stinging in your eyes when he loses that control he so often vehemently clings to. 

Unable to wait a second longer, you run your tongue from base to tip, feeling every vein pulsing under your muscle and eliciting a deep groan from Arthur. When you finally take him in your mouth, his hand reaches to cup your cheek, following you down as you take as much of him as you can. 

“Fuck.” He groans, fingers reaching to tangle in your hair, scratching at your scalp. He’s probably louder than he should be, your eyes flickering to the general direction of the others as a warning, but they soon snap back to your cowboy, an intense eye contact burning at your skin as the head of his cock bumps the back of your throat. Arthur never takes his eyes off you, guiding you up and down his length and bringing the smoke to his lips. The tip of the cigar flares a deep, fiery orange, and smoke billows from his mouth with each laboured breath you coax from him. The way he’s sitting, fingers of one hand pulling at your hair, controlling your movements, and the other limply holding the smoke, he exudes a power many seek to master but never quite get. It makes your heart swell and your cunt throb for him, knowing on your knees before him is the only place you ever want to be, knowing only you inhabit it. 

You can taste Arthur, his salty essence leaking from the pure ecstasy you’re providing and spit pools in your throat, mixing with it and dribbling down your chin. Arthur catches it with his thumb, guiding you off his cock to push the digit into your mouth and let you suckle from it. You do, hungrily, adjusting on your knees to better take Arthur deep down your throat and-

“Arthur! That you?” 

Marston. 

For eyes widen at each other, Arthur instinctively pushing you a little lower by your shoulder to keep you out of sight. John hasn’t seen you, and you’d like to keep it that way, being in the incriminating position you are between Arthur’s legs. 

You spot the irritated sigh, the twitch of Arthur’s jaw as he plasters a fake friendliness onto his features and peers over the balcony to see his brother standing on the clearing below. 

“Sure is. Whatchu’ want?”

Straight to the point.

“We didn’t hear you get back. How long’ve you been here?”

All that tension you’ve worked so hard to dissipate comes back to Arthur’s form with a crashing force. You can almost hear his plea for just one second a’ goddamn peace, merely by the way he sighs before answering. 

“Not long, thought I’d try and sneak past you fools and get some shut eye.”

Subtle, cowboy.

Ever oblivious, or simply not caring, John continues, “How’d it go, then? You got the bastard?”

He has you pressed against his thigh to hide you from sight, cock standing to attention right beside your face. It’s too tempting, especially with a none the wiser Marston stood right below. When your tongue darts out, hovering above Arthur’s twitching, aching cock, his eyes flick down to you, warning residing deep in his eyes. You take it as less of a warning, more a challenge.

You wouldn’t.

Oh, but I would.

And you do. You lift up, just enough to fit the head of his throbbing cock past your lips and slide the whole length in. It bumps the back of your throat, but upon hearing Arthur’s strangled, poorly hidden groan, you can’t seem to stop yourself.

“Y-uh… Yeah, I got ‘em…” 

It’s impressive, how he can just about hold a conversation despite his cock being so far down your throat his balls rest on your chin. 

You can’t see John, but you can only imagine how his head must tilt and his brows must pull together at the strange response from Arthur. 

“You alright, brother?”

He won’t be.

You blink up at Arthur, feigning an innocent, near angelic expression as you inhale through your nose and push him even further into you. You hum, low and quiet, letting the vibrations pass through him. Arthur whimpers, instantly knocking any and all sounds you’ve ever heard from top spot and replacing them as your favourite in the whole world. 

“I-I’m fine. Just tired.” He tries to hint again, to no avail. His fingers are digging into your shoulder with a bruising force, that control slipping bit by bit with every passing second, every little movement. Tears prick at your eyes, that burning in your lungs you’ve been reaching for finally igniting. You’re stuffed with him, feeling so full that it’s hard to breathe. When you go to release him, to be able to gasp for precious air, you realise you can’t, Arthur’s huge hand holding you right in place with his palm flush against the back of your neck. Revenge. 

“Where’s the Mrs?”

A raise of a brow. You’re not married, but everything is so naturally right between you and Arthur that the gang just seem to have defaulted to that. It makes you beam, wanting nothing more than to be this man’s wife, the kind of wife that makes him cum down your throat while he has a menial conversation. 

“S-She’s- fuck…” When he grips harder at you, you gag around his length, tears now streaming down your cheeks and mixing with your spittle and the little bits of precum that leak out from Arthur. “She’s in bed. I-I better go check on her, a-actually.” He whimpers again, fingers now gripping into your hair to keep you in place. You’re not sure how much longer you can last like this, struggling to breathe, overflowing and, God, so wet for him. 

John sounds unconvinced. You’d giggle, if you could.

“Alright… Well, g’night, brother.”

Arthur barely manages a grunt, and you can feel his thighs tensing and twitching from the sheer effort of not bucking his hips up into you and giving the pair of you away. He stills, most likely waiting for Marston to fuck off already, before he rips you away from him and pulls you to your feet, gripping your aching jaw with force enough force to keep it open. 

“You goddamn siren.” He isn’t mad. He’s trying to be, but you know Arthur far too well, and he’s burning with a fire far hotter than mere anger. Need. 

The mischievous glint in your eye is all you can offer for response, what with his iron grip on your face, but you do manage to slip your tongue out and lick the pad of his thumb, tasting the mixture of fluids still lingering. 

It’s all getting too much, knowing what you just did and who you did it around, hearing Arthur unable to string a sentence together because of you. You don’t think you’ve ever been so turned on in your life, so desperate for a release that you’re pathetically writhing in Arthur’s hold. He notices, forced anger on his features replaced with a cockiness that only comes from knowing he’s regaining the power in the situation. 

Your cheeks tingle when he releases you, sitting back in the seat and leaning back, one elbow resting on the arm of the old wooden chair and picking the cigar back up. God, you could ride him in that chair till morning, if you thought the wood wouldn’t splinter under the force. 

“You gonna finish what you started, my little siren?” He asks, taking an especially long toke from the smoke while he waits for you to drop to your knees before him. Your cunt throbs, screaming out for his attention, but it would seem your antics have earned you punishment. 

Your knees hit the wood with a force, though an involuntary whimper escapes you, hips grinding pathetically against nothing. Arthur notices, smirking like a goddamn cheshire cat at his little wanton whore. 

“Patience, angel.” Your own words echo back to you like a slap in the face. You definitely deserve this.

The grip you had on the power in this game you’re playing with Arthur officially disappears when his hand snakes around the back of your neck, grasping at your hair and winding it around his wrist like a leash. You have to tilt your head so the tugging at your scalp is a mere burn rather than a sharp pain, but that’s just where he wants you. 

“Now, little siren, I’m gonna teach ya’ some manners, and you’re gonna finish what you started, alright? And if you’re a good girl, maybe I’ll think about getting that sweet little cunt of yours off…”

It’s all it takes, the promise of Arthur’s fingers deep inside you while he sucks on your clit just how you like it, lapping up your juices like a man starved, and the defiance in your eyes dissipates. Arthur bends you to his whim, messy, sloppy putty in his hands as he drags you onto his weeping cock. You’re all but drooling for him, leaking out of the corners of your mouth when he slips into you. Your scalp tingles with the pull, especially when Arthur involuntarily tightens his grip with a hiss of his breath. His tip bumps the back of your throat, but he doesn’t stop even when you’ve fit all of him in that you can.

“Fuck, good girl, just like that baby girl…” he groans, and when you open your eyes to look up to him, he is watching you with a gaze so intense you feel like it could tear you apart. The tension burns between you, coiling so tight the chirp of a nearby cricket could snap it. 

There’s an unspoken question in your eyes when you start to nearly choke on his length of when you’ll be released, but his eyes darken, “Come on, baby, you can take more, can’t you?” 

He seems to register your fear, but it phases him little. It seems more a challenge, really, coaxing him into rocking his hips into you, pushing you even further onto his cock until you feel it start to breach past your throat in a way you didn’t even know possible. You splutter, wriggling and writhing as you try your hardest to breathe through your nose. 

“Shh… good girl,” he coos, a ravenous look taking over your usually so lovable cowboy. You’ve pushed him, and God do you live for it. “Not much further… wanna see you take all of my cock, alright? You gonna do that for me, angel?” 

You can’t nod, but it isn’t much of a question, not much choice available with your limited movements and the way Arthur has completely commandeered your body. You’re irrevocably his, body and soul. 

It doesn’t feel possible to fit more of him in, your throat burning for relief that won’t come until Arthur is satisfied, but when he bucks his hips into you, you feel his base press against your nose. He groans hard, the noise initially from the sensation of having your throat wrapped around his cock, but when he sees the sight of you, tear stained and gagging on him, the moan is pulled out into a noise of pure ecstasy. 

“Good girl… my good fuckin’ girl.” 

His thumb rubs lovingly over your wet cheek, a sensation you cling to as the corners of your vision get fuzzy. Fuck, you’re not sure how much longer you can hold out, but you’re so desperate to feel Arthur’s spend trickling down your throat, feel him lose control and moan just for you that you’d honestly be willing to die for it. 

Your expression, complete with lust-fogged, watery eyes, and beautifully flushed skin, teases the last of Arthur’s restraint like a razor thin blade against that final thread. When it finally snaps, you’re allowed one gasp for air, before he’s thrusting back into you hard. You can feel him stiffen, even more so than before, as his hips splutter into your mouth and he starts to tumble over the precipice into that realm of pleasure that only the two of you share. 

“F-Fuck, sweetheart, I’m gonna-” But he interrupts himself with a visceral, primal groan, the vibration of it shattering the both of you. You take advantage of his practically inebriated state to regain some of your own anatomy, managing to swirl your tongue around his pulsing head inside your mouth. The hot, salty spend blooms across your tongue at that, Arthur guiding you by the cheek to bob up and down on his cock while he paints your throat white. His moans are a melody you’ll never tire of, animalistic and vulnerable all the same. 

It feels like it never stops, Arthur’s spend filling your mouth up and leaking out from the corners of your lip. You can hardly stay still, writhing your needy cunt against your own heel, desperate for a reward you’re earning when you look him in the eye and swallow it all down. Pride blooms across Arthur’s features, saturated with a love that warms you from the inside out. His thumb caresses your face softly, wiping the tear tracks as you finally release his cock from your mouth and he guides you to your feet, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then nose, then lips.

“My good girl…” He coos, barely above a whisper as you breathe each other in, both as breathless as the other. Your throat aches, your jaw burning, but you’d do it a thousand times over to experience what you just did all over again. 

“Now…” He splits the sentence with another kiss, catching your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “Get on inside, sweetheart, I think you’ve earned yourself a reward.”

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan x you #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fanfiction #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redeption 2 #red dead 2

[chocsra]

hello!

i’m so glad to have found this blog as i saw your lala land inspired fic awhile ago, and just as i saw going to open your account, tumblr refreshed💔

anyways, i ADORE your writing!!

if not too much to ask, may i ask for chuuya (whatever age you prefer) x fem reader with the one bed troupe? (enemies to lovers hehehe)

reader has a tendency to grab on and get on top of things in her sleep, pillows, sheets, attractive ginger men, you name it!

they wake up in each others arms, like literally TANGLED with each other

once again, many thanks for your amazing writing!

"Embers"

16! Chuuya x gn! reader

A/N: thank you sm anon! sorry i didnt get to this sooner omg 😭😭 also omg i was contemplating whether i should do the petty enemies to lovers like in my lala land oneshot or like hatred. kinda did a mix of both but since the req said enemies to lovers i made it more mean 💔💔 sorry for the language guys i swear a lot. also after writing is i realise there are no gender descriptions so enjoy

content: swearing, slowburn, denial, fluff, enemies to lovers, subordinates, mafia work

"Fuck you,"

A cold air chilled through the night's breeze, you had just completed a tough mission for the Port Mafia. A planned out heist only prestigious members of the mafia could carry out. And here you were, with probably the subordinate you'd rather tear your own ears off than be next to. Chuuya Nakahara, a jewel smuggler known for his deadly duo named Double Black, with Dazai Osamu.

There was practically nothing to like about him - as a person, friend or subordinate. Upon your hang outs with the Flags - a mafia subgroup composed of young blood, his contribution to the group was like an angry fucking dog.

"I didn't even fucking say anything," you respond dryly, irritation laced in your voice. The hotel you were staying at for the time being was pretty grand. Only problem is, among slamming your items down on the cold wooden floor, blood slithering in the cut flesh of your stomach; there laid a king sized bed, clean and fresh, the silk matress looking as tempting as ever - but fuck, there was only one of them.

"You fucked up my flow." your subordinate hissed, clicking his tongue in annoyance before running to the bed, contaminating his dirty ass on the damn bed by laying on it. "Well fuck you too!" you shout, following him to pull him off the bed. "You're gonna make the bed dirty you shithead!" you tug on the sleeve of his arm annoyed, the ginger looks at you offended, the sweat from the hot air from outside making his orange locks stick to his forehead. "It's not like I'm sleeping on it?!" he retorts, letting his arm get dragged by you off the bed.

"Well obviously..!" you scoff, crossing your arms as his low-lided stormy grey eyes bored into yours. You can't lie, he had medium to longish hair tied in a low ponytail and.. You could almost pinch yourself for thinking of that, fuck yourself, [Y/N]. "Y'know what, just fuck yourself, man!"

...

It's been about 30 minutes, and you've got to calm yourselves down just a little bit. Since there was no couch in the hotel, you begrudgingly agreed to let him hang around on the bed and then sleep on the floor. You had your hair down, and wore some loose pjs.

"How did I fuck up your flow again?" you ask in a whisper, muttering into a pillow. "Mm, you attacked too early, I wasn't able to get my flow, ya know?" the boy arrogantly side eyes you, you snicker mockingly in response. "It's because you're such a fucking tryhard." you answer, pulling the thick blanket over yourself. "Tsk," he clicks his tongue in irritation yet again, turning away from you slowly as he sat on the bed. "I'm not a tryhard, I'm just that good." the redhead responds, you could almost taste the smirk on his stupid little face right now.

"Nuh-uh."

"Yeah-huh."

Neither of you reply after that. A soothing, comforting silence fills the room, he watches as you eyelids get heavier, and you finally close them and seem to drift away to sleep. The teenager thinks to himself: he likes you the most when you're not talking, specifically asleep; but truthfully, he shouldn't like you at all.

2 minutes pass, and he's still on the bed. "I hate you," he whispers, brushing some loose strands of hair out of your face.

5 minutes pass, and he's still on the bed. "That was a joke, by the way." the ginger says to your sleeping figure, "Not like as in 'I hate you' that's a joke. I fixed your hair as a joke, it was bothering me." an expected silence filled the room as your reply.

11 minutes pass, and he's still on the bed. Maybe Chuuya Nakahara is just a creep that likes to watch people sleep as a hobby. "I'm gonna go now.." he whispers to himself, but as if a scene from a horror movie played, your sleeping figure grabbed onto the bottom of his shirt.

"..[Y/N]?" the ginger murmurs in confusion, slowly turning his head around. You sleepily let go of your pillow and wrap your hands around him - the same kid you'd rather rip your own ears off than talk to him, by the way.

Chuuya Nakahara doesn't remember much from that night. He remembers the cold chilling air, pulling you closer to him, he remembers counting the freckles on your face, admiring your eyelashes and how your hair gets matted from the pillow, worst part of all; he remembers telling you something that isn't 'I hate you'.

"You look stupid," he mutters in your ear, his hands were snaked around your shoulders as rumpled hair and half-closed eyes were all that's in sight. "..You look pretty too, though."

He swore to not to talk to himself ever again after that.

...

It was a peaceful morning, the tinge of the sun's rays rained down on your skin, and you felt practically engulfed by a heater, almost like you were hugging one.

Unfortunately, you found your arms wrapped around your subordinate, Chuuya's waist. And you found him sleeping with his lips brushed against your forehead, his arms cradling you with such gentleness you never thought he out of all people could have.

2 minutes pass and you're still buried in his warmth. "..Chuuya?" you murmur, watching how the sun kisses his hair's colour ever so beautifully.

5 minutes pass and you're still buried in his warmth. "I hate you, y'know? How'd we even.." you trail off, noticing and counting the freckles on his face: 1.. 2.. 3, fuck!

11 minutes pass and you're still buried in his warmth. "That was completely serious by the way, I really do hate you-"

"Do you talk to people in their sleep as a weird hobby or something?" the redhead mutters with closed eyes, horrifying you with the fact that he was awake.

"What the actual fuck-"

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd chuuya #15 chuuya #chuuya nakahara #chocsra #bsd x reader #15 light novel bsd #chuuya x reader #15 chuuya x reader #tell me why i kicked my own feet making this #gn! reader #gn reader

[madiisixx]

Could you write a Nikki sixx x reader we’re him and the reader meet at the whiskey and he like falls in love at first sight but gets kinda scared and doesn’t talk so much so she thinks that he is a snob lol and they have kinda of a fight and then he’s just like blurts out Saturday???? And she’s like huh?

"So Saturday?" l Nikki Sixx x Reader

& One night when you were bar tending behind the bar at the Whiskey you notice a mysterious man come in in all leather and wreaked of rock n roll. But there's more to him than you see

AUTHORS NOTE: This is my first time writing in well over 7 months so bare with me! thank you so much for this request! it was fun to write :)

This was not how you envisioned your Friday night working at the Whiskey.

There had been rude customers all day, you've gotten drinks thrown at you multiple times from old men when you didn't bring their drink fast enough, and your boss was being a bitch and made you go change your outfit because the one that you had worn was "too conservative and won't bring in business'"

You had begged to differ when he handed you a new change of clothes. It was the most open top that could pass as a bra far too much to your liking as well as short shorts that rode up every time you bent down to get the alcohol mixtures from behind the bar,

to say you were annoyed was an understatement.

as 12:30 rolled around, the bar became less and less busy which in turn you decided to pour yourself a jack and coke because hell, you deserved it after working for these assholes.

even the strippers got paid more than you.

grabbing the ice and Jack and coke, you poured yourself a glass and knocked it back as it had been water. You winced at the taste and wiped your mouth clean of any residue before turning around and started to wash the glasses that needed to be put away for the night.

----

as you had gotten finished with the glasses, your eyes had glanced at the clock and it had measured almost 1:15.

Rolling your eyes at the time, you heard the bell chime at the opening of the bar signaling to you of one's presence,

you turned around and were about to sigh to yourself, before you saw the man sauntering before you.

his eyes were the first thing that you noticed about him, they were so green and enchanting, he looked like his looks could kill.

which to many women, they did.

His hair was tall and jet black just like his leather jacket and leather laced up pants that was too tight but it fit him so you didn't care.

As he approached you, you noticed that he looked oddly familiar but you couldn't quite put your fingers on it.

Putting on your best fake smile and charm, he sat down on the bar stool across from where you were standing and propped himself up on his arms.

you two were sitting in silence for a while that was filled with this tension all around both of you that was so full of lust but neither of you noticed.

Rolling your eyes, you squinted at him. "are you just gonna stare at me or are you going to order something to drink?""

He smirked every so slightly and leaned back on the chair and crossed his arms but made no attempt to talk to you.

"look dude I've been here since 10 am so if you're not gonna order anything i''m gonna head on home since I stayed because I heard you come in".

you kept your gaze on him and wondered if he really wanted a drink or if he just wanted to push your buttons.

little did you know, Nikki was nervous.

he noticed you a while back when the band came here after a gig at the star-wood and he immediately knew that you were the one for him.

normally he wasn't a hopeless romantic because that was Tommy's shit but he felt that it was different to you. That's why he decided to come in as he was already on the strip anyway after hanging out with a couple of his buddies.

he knew that you probably thought he was a snob because he didn't reply when you asked if he wanted a drink, but in reality he was enamored by your beauty.

Deciding to have enough of his antics, you had rolled your eyes at him and turned away to gather your things when you heard him speak up for the first time that night.

"Saturday?"

furrowing your brows, you turned around and looked at him. "What?"

He drummed his fingers against the oak wood on the bar counter and almost looked nervous as he spoke, "Saturday? Are you free?"

You bit your lip and tried to hide your smile. He was asking you out on a date. You couldn't lie that you noticed he was extremely attractive when he walked in.

You pretended to think for a moment and you could tell he was getting nervous because the drumming of his fingers became more consistent.

"yes Saturday I'm free. Why, are you asking me on a date?"

He bit his lip and smiled, giving you a little shrug. "I guess I am. As soon as I see a beautiful girl like you I knew I had to shoot my shot"

Blushing at his words and reaching over the counter to place your hand on his that was drumming, you leaned in close and whispered.

"it's a date Rock star"

TAGLIST: @tlclick73

#nikki sixx fanfiction #nikki sixx x reader #nikki sixx #nikki sixx fanfic #motley crue #motley crue fanfiction #nikki sixx imagine #madiisixx

[addisonstars]

"kiss me underneath the mistletoe"

written for day 2 of december for @wolfstarmicrofic with the prompt "mistletoe" -468 words

“Hey Moons, here is your hot chocolate.” Sirius extends his arm with a mug filled to the brim with hot chocolate. It has marshmallows, peppermint flakes- 

“Did you add the-” 

“Chocolate syrup yes,” Sirius sighs. “I’ve known you for how long and you still think I am going to forget to add the chocolate syrup even though you remind me every single time to add it.” 

Remus smiles. 

Oddly, Sirius isn’t leaving the frame of the kitchen. He just stands there with his own hot chocolate in one hand, and Remus’ in another. “Can you bring me my hot coco love?” He asks, arm outstretched and a slight pout in his lips. 

Sirius shakes his head no, but there is a twinkle in his eye giving something away. “You've been sitting there for the whole morning Rem, it’s about time you get off that wonderful arse of yours, don’t you think?” 

Standing up, Remus rolls his eyes, and walks over to where Sirius stands with his warm drink. He tries to grab it, but Sirius pulls back. “Sirius,” He drawls. 

“Oh would you look at that, I think we’re under something.” He looks up at the mistletoe hanging clear as day above their heads. So that’s why Siri wasn’t giving me my drink, Remus thinks. “I think it might be... a mistletoe.” Sirius looks back down at Remus, directly in his eyes. He sees the bit of sparkle Sirius beholds in those midnight black eyes of his. This is what he was up to. “Gimme a kiss and I’ll give you your hot coco. Deal?” He smirks. "It's the rules anyways, so there's no getting out of it."

I would never want to get out of it. “Fine.” Remus leans in for a kiss, lips meeting lips, hands winding around waists. Remus feels electricity move down his spine as Sirius licks his lips, asking for permission. Remus obliges, mouth opening for Sirius. He tastes Sirius’ hot chocolate on his lips. 

Overcome with desire for more, Remus backs Sirius into the wall frame. He doesn't mean to push him so hard into the wall, but he does hard enough where Sirius lets out an “oof” as his back hits the doorframe and Remus’ hot coco splashes out onto the floor. 

“Oh, shite, I’m sorry Siri.” Remus backs away, apologizing. One look at Sirius and he figures that he probably didn't need to apologize though. His lips are swollen, bruising with red, and his cheeks share the same flushed color. “Here, let me help.” 

Sirius shakes his head, handing Remus his hot chocolate. “No, you earned your drink, Moons, I’ll take care of this.” He sets down his own drink and walks away to grab the paper towels. 

Remus smiles, taking a sip of his hot chocolate. Perfect, he thinks.

sirius takes advantage of the mistletoe every chance he gets. remus acts like he's annoyed by it, but we all know deep down he loves it tehe

-a.s.

#wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #remus x sirius #sirius x remus #christmas fluff #wolfstar fic #wolfstar microfic #mistletoe #addisonstars #addisonstars mircofic tag #addisonstars wolfstar microfic tag:

[fragileizywriting]

"he's just... lame but in a virgin kind of way?" (dl) marinette explains, grasping at straws.

"no. honestly, you've lost me," (dl) adrien deadpans, snapping his book closed and settling back into his chair. "what does that mean?"

"luka is just... lame."

"i think he's good looking."

"oh, he is. but in a virgin way."

her favorite past time with adrien is window shop with him, both of them chattering over tea or wine or extremely expensive caviar that she doesn't bother looking at the price for. being bisexual is so heavenly, especially when adrien is just as eager to browse with her with the same amount of enthusiasm. when they're at their favorite breakfast place, a pret-a-manger that skews slightly sappy with the heart motifs and turquoise stamping on the walls, conversation sings between them both. adrien isn't a morning person like she is, but he makes the effort to join her, just so they can have their date.

she loves dating two people at once.

usually, luka's the one who joins her in rundown hole-in-the-walls, gazing at her with a sappy smile and an equally sappy expression lingering in his eyes as she eats a very non chocolate savoury crepe.

on the off days where she has a date with adrien in the mornings, she gets him out the door before he's able to nose into his sunglasses and hide.

and of course, when the two of them have their date, it's always a tossup for what they end up doing. luka never has a preference. adrien is always too worried he's overimposing on the angel to actually pick.

"so," adrien murmurs, soft and sweet and sinful, "what exactly are you talking about?"

"(sas) luka is just... a virgin."

adrien laughs. "work with me, here. there's already a marinette that talks in circles, i can't do it with two."

"don't be mean!" she scolds, laughing along with him. "awh, i thought you liked her."

"oh, i do." he steals a bite of her gorgeous tart with far too much passion fruit coating. he's smart enough to hide the way his teeth sing from the taste with a pink tongue against his fangs. "i think she's so interesting."

"just 'interesting'?" she teases, hiding a smile into her juice.

"what do you mean?"

"she's tiny."

his eyes narrow. "i wouldn't."

"you can."

"it's an ethical issue. she's not technically my girlfriend."

"i'd fuck myself whole-heartedly," she argues plainly, giving a shrug. the waiter across from them in the small cafe, busy putting silverware down, pretends he's not paying attention. "there are no complaints from me. i think the only ethical issue i would have personally is that if i'm not quick enough, i might treat her like my daughter instead of... me. and then that's where it would get into the danger, do-not-pass-go zone. and you, my loving little baby boy, do not shut up when you think of something you like."

adrien pinks. "she's... cute," he tacks on, no doubt getting a feedback loop as she herself thinks about all the scenes he'd unknowingly fed her throughout the few hours they've been in contact with the new crew. "i like the way she scrunches her nose the same way you do when she doesn't like something. and she does the same thing you do; pretending to be absolutely stupid even though she's probably the smartest, just to disarm people."

"if you'd like to find out just how cute she can be, i won't be stopping you."

"but what exactly about the new luka makes you think he's lame?"

"i don't know. he's lame in the same way you're just a baby boy to me."

"so it's personality?"

"for lack of a better word, i'd say 'vibes'?" it's a quizzical conundrum for sure. "you don't have the personality of an actual baby, but i see you and i think about how much i want to—" the words have you suck on my tits hangs in the air like a veil, and though she doesn't have to say it, adrien's pupils dilate in the silence. "anyway, i feel like luka just has a backbone of a wet napkin."

"maybe adrien has him wrapped around his finger," her adrien laughs.

wow, yeah. adrien has a point. "you know? that's kind of hot."

"yeah, not something you'd expect, for sure. our luka can pretend that he's not more top-leaning than switch-leaning, sure, but this younger one definitely shows off his... helplessness more."

"i don't even know how."

"i think i'd like to see him try to top."

"interesting."

"i think it might make him break out of his shell."

"go on?" she goads, tapping her nails with impatience as adrien sips out of his coffee cup.

"maybe he's a lame virgin cause no one's put out in the way he likes."

"just a reminder that he is a virgin."

oh, there's a fire in his eyes. "really?"

"you thought they were joking last night?"

"i can't exactly know that for sure, unlike you," he teases. "how about this. you and i crack him open."

"you let him top you and i'll top him?" oh, this poor creature. this helpless man will never survive. "is this a good idea? i don't think i should drain him out."

"then don't."

she makes a face. "but that's not fun."

"you're a grown woman," he muses, hiding a smirk in the way he chews his croissant. heated glances to her chest say much, much more than the giant pockets of silence. "you can hold yourself back."

"but he's cute," she pouts, scrunching her nose. "and i really like him."

"if you hold back, i'll let you baby me for a whole week. whole baby like i always say no to."

"oh, deal."

#speakizys #demon lovin #sharks and sugar #izycrossover

[stargazer-sims]

reminiscing

Audrey: Do you think we should redecorate in here?

Matthew: What would you turn this room into if we redecorated it?

Audrey: I don't know. I suppose I was just thinking out loud. I don't imagine Artie is ever planning to move back in with us, and we should be doing something with this space.

Matthew: Speaking of Artie, now that we've got a grandbaby on the way, maybe we could turn this into a room for them. Or we could make it into a guest room for when your parents or our out-of-town friends come to stay.

Audrey: A guest room is a good idea. It'd certainly be a lot better than having guests sleeping on an air mattress in the office.

Matthew: If we do redecorate, it’ll be strange, trying not to think of this as Artie’s room.

Audrey: Remember when we first moved in? How excited he was about us letting him choose his own furniture?

Matthew: I remember Stephen and Grace helping me put together this bed and desk, and Grace making fun of him because she knows more about tools than he does.

Audrey: And Emilia panicking because she didn't want Leo to play in the pool with Artie and Victor.

Matthew: Because he couldn't swim. Not like ours, who could already swim like a fish. And Victor... I swear that kid was born with gills. Anyway, it wasn't as if Thomas wasn't watching the kids while you and Millie were busy in the kitchen and the rest of us were waging war with this crazy bed.

Audrey: 'Busy in the kitchen' certainly describes it. I can still picture Kiki and Caroline, covered in finger paint.

Matthew: And Grace laughing about it.

Audrey: Probably because Victor and Caroline were always making messes, and she realized laughing was a lot better for her mental health than getting upset.

Matthew: I miss those times. It seems like things were a lot more fun when everybody's kids were young, and before so much changed in our lives.

Audrey: I miss those times too, but maybe we'll recapture some of those old feelings when our grandchild comes along.

Matthew: I'm looking forward to that. I can't wait to be a grandpa.

Audrey: You're much too young and handsome to be 'Grandpa'. I think we're going to have to think of a cooler and more fun nickname for you.

Matthew: What about you? If you think i can't be 'Grandpa', then someone as beautiful and sexy as you definitely can't be 'Grandma'.

Audrey: Excuse me. Did you just call me sexy?

Matthew: *winking* Maybe.

Audrey: Mr. Greene, are you trying to seduce me?

Matthew: Maaaybe...

Audrey: How did a discussion about redecorating turn into this?

Matthew: You're irresistible, that's how. Sometimes I just lose focus when I'm around you. But yes... redecorating. Let's give it some more thought, and maybe ask Artie what he thinks. He might have an opinion. This was his room, after all. He and Emma may have a few memories of their own in here.

Audrey: Let's invite them for dinner on Saturday, after their support group. I need to talk to Emma about planning a baby shower, and this might be a good opportunity.

Matthew: A baby shower? Do you think Artie would go for that?

Audrey: Apparently his new friend Félix is planning on having one, and it sounds like he thought that was a good idea, so...

Matthew: Ah, yes... Félix. I've been hearing a lot about him lately. Maybe we should invite him and his husband over as well. See what sort of people Artie is spending time with these days.

Audrey: A dinner party, then?

Matthew: Excellent plan. Do you want to be in charge of the main course or appetizers and desserts?

Audrey: You can do the desserts. You're good with sweet things.

Matthew: I must be, seeing as I've managed to hang onto you for this long, and you're the sweetest thing in my life.

Audrey: All right. You win. You've crumbled my resolve.

Matthew: And I wasn't even trying. But, I'm happy to taste victory anyway

Audrey: And what does victory taste like, dare I ask?

Matthew: At a guess, I'd say your wintergreen toothpaste.

Audrey: *laughing*

#ts4 #sims 4 #eagames #newcrest #Audrey Harrison-Greene #Matthew Greene #stargazersims

[adleryoung]

"Here I am," someone said as she grabbed me from behind and held a knife to my throat. A bell tinkled very close by.

"Minister Lynne?" I gulped. With that woolly smell, the deceptively soft voice, the tantalizing curves pressed against me, and of course the little bell, it had to be her. I should have known! "How did you get here?"

"It's just Lana now, thanks to you," she snarled. "As to how I got here, obviously I crept. The mushroom stealth technique you developed is surprisingly effective."

"I can see how that would work on me and my Ixies," I admitted. "But the trees? They should have stopped you." I had to keep her talking while I figured out what to do!

"I know secret phrases to command the forest," Lana gloated.

"How do you know that??" I spluttered. It seemed my arboreal defenses could be penetrated by pretty much ANYBODY. "Did Ash tell you?"

"Your Doctor Cesawonki?" Lana laughed. "Please. The Sisterhood has made bargains reaching back long before his time. The trees bear an obligation to us that supersedes any instructions you or he may have given them."

"Okay then, why are you here?" I asked, playing for time.

"Surely you can guess," Lana snorted. "It shouldn't be hard even for you to figure out! I am here to complete the mission Ms. Thomson abandoned when she turned traitor! Asking the Sisterhood to find info on 'Ash' was a tactical error on your part. After letting us know that you were still alive, and exactly where you were, did you not think we would send someone out to get you? This is exactly why the so-called 'Scion of Irenaeus' can't be left to his own devices. It's like watching a brain-dead infant wander through a field strewn with traps. After all the time and energy we invested in you, I have to say you've been a big disappointment."

"It will be impossible to restore the Empire if you assassinate me," I pointed out. "I'm the only one left … unless you count Bodb and Matholwch, but surely …"

"The Duchess will be difficult to negotiate with, it's true," Lana admitted thoughtfully. "Speaking of Antgladers, I see you are still associating with that trashy raccoon, but interestingly there is no sign of Thomson. I was at first tempted to think you got tired of her and sent her away, but no. You are still keeping Burnside around, which shows that your taste in company has not improved. And now I see you're also hanging out with lowfolk, of all things."

"They are useful to me," I replied, trying to make it sound Unseelie.

"Indeed," Lana sneered. "So where is Thomson anyway?"

"I have no idea," I shrugged. Was Lana's grip around me relaxing? "Frankly I'm amazed that Burnside survived. They were both on the field when I ACCIDENTALLY released the Plague of Battles."

"The best thing you ever did, and it wasn't even on purpose," Lana sighed. "Ah well, most likely that twice-failed two-bit floozy failed yet again and was gruesomely slain in battle. Dying a traitor's death; it's a shame I didn't get to see it."

This was my chance! As Lana's attention wavered, I used a move Adoyret Sam had taught me to twist free of her grip. As I spun, I swiped at her with the arrow in my hand, but it glanced harmlessly off her horns. However, she was so startled that she dropped her dagger. I immediately apported it away to a random location and stepped back, nocking my arrow and aiming directly at her heart.

"Impressive," Lana chuckled as she cracked her hooves. "I heard that the Adoyret had taught you a few things, and I see his efforts were not wasted. This might even be fun. Think you can take me on, little princeling? See if you can ring my bell."

She lunged at me and I shot my bow, but she somehow deflected the arrow aside and tackled me to the ground.

We wrestled for what seemed like a long time, although probably it was just a few minutes. She seemed to be everywhere at once. I scratched and kicked and bit, using all of Sam's training. I managed to ring Lana's little bell several times, but alas, I could not land a decisive blow. She was just too slippery!

"Pretty good," she said when it was over, as she dragged me by my ear towards the dolmen. "Could be better, but honestly not bad. I'll have to re-evaluate you. We'll talk in the antechamber, away from any eavesdroppers … because unlike some people, I take care not to have my plans overheard."

#furry #elves #adventure #story #plot #cartoon #tboay #skunk #sheep #fight

[presumenothing]

anyone happen to have books to rec? fiction or nonfiction both

#feeling the sudden urge for literacy or something idk #haven't actually read a book since the start of the year or something #if you've been hanging around here you probably know how my tastes are but anyway #default genres are mystery/scifi and science-related stuff respectively #but tbh anything goes my attention span probably can't go beyond YA length at this point #ramble tag

[watchmegetobsessed]

WILDEST FANTASIES (part 3)

⚫️A/N: thank you for being so patient and thank you for all the positivity you've been showing this story, it makes me so happy to see how much you're liking it! now, i know yall have been hoping for a threesome and i really don't want to disappoint, but that was never planned for the story😬 tho i hope you will still enjoy this part!

⚫️PAIRING: Professor!Harry X Reader

⚫️WARNING: sexual content

⚫️WORD COUNT: 5.2k

SERIES MASTERPOST

This is not at all what you expected when you agreed to meet up with Niall. Originally, you planned on not even leaving your bed all day, but he buttered you up so fast, you couldn’t reject his offer to watch a movie with him and maybefinish what you started last night.

He said his friend that’s hosting him has plans so you should arrive around five. You’re late, because Kostas was still pretending to be dying even though he was alright, only needed about twelve hours of sleep. Anyway, you ended up making him soup so he wouldn’t bother Ramona while she was studying so you ended up being late. But now that you see Professor Styles staring at you in horror and shock, you kind of wish you came earlier.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” is the first thing that comes out of his mouth and this is the first time you hear him cuss as well.

It’s pretty hot.

“I could ask the same, but I think I know what’s happening here. I’m here to see your friend, Niall.”

Right on cue, the door to the guest bedroom flies open and Niall jogs out with a charming smile on his face.

“Harry, what are you still doing here?” he asks, joining the two of you at the door.

“You said she is coming at six, I made plans according to that,” Harry hisses at his friend, clearly pissed at the situation he was dragged into.

“Six? No, I said five,” Niall shakes his head.

“No, you didn’t, you—Forget about it,” he growls, putting the mistake aside, since he had worse things to deal with. “Niall, can we talk for a second? Privately?”

“Uh, sure.”

“Should I just stand here or you guys gonna let me in?” you ask, cocking your head to the side and Harry definitely notices the attitude you’re giving him. You both know you have the upper hand as of right now, unlike the last time you saw each other.

“Of course, come on in, make yourself home!” Niall invites you in so you finally walk inside, closing the door behind you.

The two men rush down the hallways so you just walk over to the couch in the living room, making yourself comfortable as you take a look around.

In the meantime, Harry basically tosses Niall into his room, shutting the door a tad bit stronger than he intended, but he is hanging on his last thread right now.

“Dude, what is wrong with you?” Niall asks squaring his shoulders, staring back at his friend.

“What’s wrong is that she is my student!” he whisper-yells at him.

“What? Are you sure? She is studying—“

“Math! I know, I remember what you said, but she is also in my Creative Writing class! She is probably doing it for extra credit, but it doesn’t matter, she needs to go.”

“Oh, come on! She is not here because of you. She won’t be here when you get back, I promise!”

“No, Niall! This is not happening!” Harry is fuming. He is pretty sure he is about to get a stroke or just simply pass out right on the spot. “She is not only my student, but she—“

He cuts himself off before he could say something that shouldn’t be known by anyone else. However, it catches Niall’s attention and he is very persistent when he wants to find out something.

“She what? You know something about her? Is she like a psycho or something?”

“Niall, just… drop it. Send her home, she can’t be here.”

“Tell me what you know! I’m just about to be balls deep inside her, if you know something you have to tell me!”

If his panic wasn’t enough, Harry is now drowning in an unfamiliar feeling. His chest tightens and he swears he tastes something bitter in his mouth all of a sudden. Can this really be the end? Is he about to die? He wishes.

Because as he stares back at his friend and imagines him in an intimate situation with you, he almost throws a punch at him. Something is wrong with him, that he knows for sure at this point.

“Fucking hell,” Harry breathes out as he starts pacing the floor, shaking his head. He can’t believe this is happening to him.

“Dude, what’s wrong with her? Are you… Are you, like, hooking up or something?”

The look Harry gives Niall could almost kill and Niall swears he has never seen his friend like this. So livid and on the edge.

“I just… I can’t. This is so fucked up,” Harry sighs.

“We’ve been friends forever, Harry. You know you can tell me anything!”

“But this shit is way too fucked up, Niall. You’ll think I’m crazy.”

“I already do,” he smirks, trying his best to ease the panic in his friend. “I promise I won’t judge.”

“You also have to promise not to tell anyone, okay? It can ruin my whole life if someone finds out. I’m serious.”

“You have my word,” he nods. Harry hesitates whether he should share the story with him, but he feels like he is going crazy so another point of view might be good now.

So he briefly tells him all about the mistake you made, how he confronted you and then when he found your real assignment on his desk with the previous one next to it. Niall listens to him in complete silence, not interrupting him until he finishes. When Harry is done talking, he is anxiously waiting for his friend’s reaction, absolutely no idea what it will be like.

“I’m gonna be honest with you, this sounds like something you made up. But knowing you, I can totally believe it happened,” Niall speaks up finally.

“This is one hundred percent real and now she is… sitting on my fucking couch. Now you know why she can’t be here.”

“I know why you’re about to have a mental breakdown, but I think you need something else than kicking her out. You need to fuck her.”

“Are you fucking insane?” he snaps, louder than he should have, you probably heard that out there. “She is my student!”

“It’s an unfortunate detail, but it shouldn’t hold you back. She wants you and from what I’ve gathered, you definitely want her too.”

“Jesus, this is not how it works, Niall. I can lose my job if anything happened and people found out. It would end my career.”

“So then don’t let people find it out,” he shrugs, as if it wasn’t a big deal at all.

“And here I was, thinking that you’d say I’m crazy. Turns out, you’re the crazy out of the two of us.”

“Harry, you need to talk to her.”

“What? No!”

“If not about the possibility of hooking up, then at least about finding her essay on your desk. You can’t just pretend it didn’t happen, you need to address it.”

“And what exactly should I tell her?” he scoffs, folding his arms on his chest. “Sorry I’ve been wanking off to your dirty story about us fucking in my office? Oh, by the way, how funny is it that you came here to fuck my friend?”

“That would be hilarious,” Niall laughs, but Harry gives him a look that shuts him up. “I don’t know, just… talk it out. It’s better you can do it now and you didn’t have to face her for the first time in class, right?”

“This is so fucked up,” Harry breathes out as if he just ran the marathon. That’s a task he would definitely rather take on than having to face you.

As much as he doesn’t want to admit, Niall is right. Now is the time to talk before you have to face each other on campus again and it’s better to do it here rather than in the classroom or worse, his office. He still can’t walk in there without thinking about you.

“I’ll be here, take your time, okay?” Niall encourages him patting his shoulder before pushing his friend towards the door.

Hesitantly, Harry walks out and heads back to the living room. You’re sitting on the couch, curiously looking around and he can’t help but think how weird it is to see you in his most personal space, his home. Pushing it to the back of his mind, he walks in and you turn your gaze to him, a shiver running down his spine just from the way you look at him.

While they were having their little discussion, you had some time to think as well. The situation was just as surprising for you as it was for Harry and you haven’t quite figured out where you wanted it to head. Your move in his office came to you out of the blue, you didn’t plan it or think about what it might cause and now you have to face the consequences.

When you see Harry walk into the room you notice how nervous he is right away. You’ve never seen him like this before, he usually radiates confidence and warmth, but this time he looks like a wrecked version of himself.

“Sorry for the little scene, I was just… not expecting to see you here,” he clears his throat, hesitantly taking a few more steps before opting to sit on the other end of the couch, leaving a comfortable space between the two of you.

“I hope you don’t think this was planned or anything, I genuinely didn’t know Niall was your friend.”

“No, not at all,” he shakes his head. “Though I had a feeling he shouldn’t have gone to the most popular bar near the campus,” he adds with a bitter chuckle. “Anyway, now we can at least… discuss some matters.”

Rolling your lips into your mouth, you’re waiting for him to continue anxiously. You want to hear him out first and then decide how you’ll react. Mostly because you want to hear what he comes up with, something you’ve been dying to know since you’ve stepped out of his office on Thursday.

“I don’t think it’s going to be a surprise for you, but… I saw what you left on my desk and I assume you figured out what it means.”

He is nervously fidgeting with his rings he is always wearing, anxiously turning around the one that forms a massive H again and again.

“I honestly have no excuse for it and I’m not sure what to say. It was… very unprofessional from me. I don’t… I don’t know why I kept it.”

Lie. You both know it’s a lie, but you choose to ignore it. For now.

“So what I’m trying to say is that I’m really sorry, I can only imagine how awkward it must have been for you to find your writing on my desk. And I really hope we can put it behind us.”

You have only moments to decide which way you’ll take this. Staring back at him you sort through your options, trying to think straight but he is not the only one having trouble to stay rational in this rather irrational situation.

“We can do that,” you answer at last and you see the instant relief in him. Nodding to himself he exhales sharply as he stands from the couch and you watch him inch closer towards the door still anxiously but not horrified anymore.

“Great. Thank you so much, and I’m glad you’re treating this so maturely. I’ll go and get Niall, I should be heading out anyway,” he rambles and turning around he is about to leave when you stand up and call after him.

“Did you think about me though?”

You stare at the back of his head as he stops in his tracks upon hearing your words and for a moment you regret speaking up. Maybe you really crossed a line this time, but you just couldn’t stop yourself. The thought of him thinking about you while reading your story has been stuck in your head for days, picturing him touching himself as he reads it, whimpering your name, making him come while you’re on his mind. You’d be lying if you said you haven’t thought about him while playing with yourself.

He doesn’t answer and you’re desperate to get a reaction out of him, so you decide to push it further.

“Did you touch yourself while thinking about me, Professor Styles?”

“Stop,” he growls, peeking over his shoulder, his eyes practically flaming. You notice how his breathing has picked up, as he slowly turns around, you can’t help but think about how it would feel like if his heaving chest would be pressed against yours.

He takes a few steps towards you and your insides start trembling just from the way he is looking at you. You couldn’t even make this up in your story, that’s how intense it is.

“Why? You have nothing to be ashamed of. After all, I thought about you when I wrote it.”

“I will not discuss it with you, Y/N,” he snaps and this is the first time he called you by your first name instead of calling you Miss Y/L/N. You prefer this one a lot more.

“It was just a question. I won’t hold it against you, I promise.” You dare to step closer, now only a few feet away from him, if you wanted to you could touch him, but that’s a risk you will not take now. Not when he is looking at you so lividly and like he could explode any moment.

“If you bring this up again, Y/N, it won’t end well. Do you understand?”

Your heart is hammering in your throat, you’ve never seen him like this but it doesn’t scare you, not at all. What you feel is a mixture of excitement, lust and desperate need to not only get your hands on him but feel his on yours. Your thoughts are racing of everything you want to do with him and let him do to you, how you want him to have this exact same attitude in the bedroom as he takes you however he pleases.

“I asked, do you understand?” he repeats in a low growl and you realize you haven’t answered him, just stared back at him blankly.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” he snaps, your lips parting as you correct yourself.

“Yes, professor.”

“Good girl,” he then finally says before turning around and walking out.

Frozen in your spot, you hear doors opening and closing and the professor’s figure walks past the doorway before he leaves the house. Niall shows up a moment later, a questioning look on his face when he sees you just standing there, taking deep breaths.

“Everything alright?” he asks and you finally move for the first time since the professor has left.

“Yeah, Everything is… perfect,” you breathe out, flashing him a nervous smile, while you can only think about one thing.

The way Harry Styles just called you a good girl.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Harry is gripping the stirring wheel so tight his knuckles are turning white. He’s been parked in the parking lot for over ten minutes, but he hasn’t been able to get himself to get out of the car. Nina is probably already waiting for him inside, but he is still stuck on the conversation he had with you.

He called you a good girl. And made you call him professor in a way that’s absolutely not related to his academic title, but it surely is all about his kinky fantasies he’s been harboring this past week about you. This is not how he planned it and everything was going so fine at first, right until you asked him if he thought about you while touching himself.

He can’t believe you had the courage to do that, to be so blunt and shameless and he hates himself for how much it excited him. Along with the way you looked at him when he let his dominant side take over control. He was close to snap and take you then and there, teach you how to keep your mouth shut, preferably around his throbbing, hard cock.

“I’m so fucking screwed,” he whispers to himself, closing his eyes as he forces himself to finally get out of the car.

There’s nothing he can do now, he can’t take back what he said and he can only hope this was the end of it all, that you will keep your word and never bring it up. Mostly because he doesn’t have faith in himself that he’ll be able to control himself if you look at him like that again.

Walking into the diner he spots Nina right away, she waves at him to make sure he sees her. Harry slaloms between the tables until he finally makes it to her.

“Hey, sorry for being late. I had a little… situation,” he clears his throat, sliding into the booth across her.

“It’s alright. I was a bit late too,” she smiles.

In the next about two hours Harry tries his best to forget about the trouble he has most likely gotten himself into. Nina is great company and she manages to get his mind off of you for a little while at least, even though she has no idea what’s been going on.

Dinner is nice, they have a great chat and she has a few drinks as well since she is planning to take an Uber home while Harry sticks to his soda, though he would love to have something stronger.

“Okay, will you tell me what’s bothering you?” Nina asks him when they are finished with dessert, nursing the remaining of their drinks.

“What do you mean?”

“I can tell something is up. You invited me out on such a short notice when you usually plan everything days ahead. You’ve been zoning out all evening, it’s pretty clear something is bothering you.”

“It’s… complicated,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“More complicated than my divorce?” she smirks at him, trying to ease his nerves.

Harry knows exactly how messy her divorce was. They were planning to start trying for a baby when Nina found out that her husband had been cheating on her for over a year. Then just when it seemed like they can get through it and Nina would be able to forgive him, the woman he cheated on found out that she was pregnant from Nina’s husband. That was the last straw, there was no forgiveness just a bunch of screaming matches.

Harry stays silent, he knows he can’t share the story with her, or at least not the whole of it, because no matter how good friends they are, she is still part of the community at his work place and he is not entirely sure how she would treat it if he told her the truth.

“Alright, I get it. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But just so you know, I’m always here if you need someone to pour your heart out.” She smiles at him and reaching over the table she squeezes his hand in a warm, friendly way. Or at least that’s how Harry is treating it.

It’s part nine when he finally heads home. After parting ways with Nina he walked a bit around to clear his head out and also to make sure enough time has passed and you won’t be home when he gets back. But just to be sure, he texts Niall asking if it’s safe for him to return. When his friend gives him the green light he finally heads home and even though he knows you’re not there, he still can’t push his nerves aside as he walks into the house.

“Niall?” he calls out, dropping his keys to the side table in the hallway before making his way further inside.

“How was dinner?” he pops out of the guest bedroom, still wearing the same clothes as before and Harry’s first thoughts are quite disturbing.

Did you sleep with him? Did anything happen between the two of you and he just put on his clothes from before? Or the evening ended on a completely innocent note? Swallowing his questions he shrugs as Niall follows him into the kitchen where Harry gets himself some water.

“It was alright. How was… your night?” he asks with ulterior motives behind his words.

“Fun, we had a great time. But I think I’m going to bed early. I haven’t really slept my hangover off,” he sighs, rubbing his face. Harry wants to stop him and ask what he meant by having a great time and if it meant having sex with you, but he doesn’t want to make it obvious that he is bothered by it.

He shouldn’t be, because even if he was into you, nothing could ever happen between him and you and you’re free to hook up with whoever you want to. Even if that’s one of Harry’s best friends.

“Alright, yeah. See you tomorrow,” Harry mumbles as Niall leaves.

He takes some time alone, trying to make something out of his racing thoughts, but he has had enough for today. He takes a cold shower and retreats to his room. The dark screen of his computer taunts him as he lies in bed, knowing well what’s on it and what was last opened on it earlier. He knows he needs to delete that story before he gets himself into even bigger trouble, especially after the conversation he had with you.

But for today, he just leaves it all be.

You didn’t have sex with Niall. It was a mutual decision even though you didn’t discuss it. After the professor left and Niall finally showed up, something was different and you both knew it. Luckily, he was cool about it, so the two of you just drank the wine you brought, watched the movie and had a good time as just simply friends.

Part of you wanted to ask if he knew something, if the professor has told him something about you or the situation between the two of you, but you didn’t want to cross any lines so you kept your questions to yourself. However when you were about to leave he said something that’s been stuck on your mind.

“Hey, listen,” he started, keeping his voice down even though it was just the two of you. “If you really want this, you should go for it. But only if you’re serious about it. He is risking a lot.”

You knew he wasn’t talking about you and him, it was all about the professor who was out god knows where, most likely waiting for you to leave so he could come home. There was so much more to his words, a message hidden behind them and you didn’t have to think hard to decode it.

“Thank you, Niall. I’m glad we met,” you smiled at him, hugging him tight.

“The pleasure was all mine. Take care, Y/N.”

Now as you’re back in the comfort of your bedroom, you can’t get yourself to do anything but lie in bed, stare at the ceiling and keep replaying what the professor had told you earlier.

“If you bring this up again, Y/N, it won’t end well. Do you understand?”

“Yes what?”

“Good girl.”

Fucking hell, you still get a shiver from those last two words. It has you in a chokehold. Is this what he is into? Being the dominant one? Making his partner obedient and praising them whenever they do good? You want to hear him say it again, you want it tattooed on yourself so every time you look at it you can remember what it was like when Harry called you a good girl.

Harry.

You’ve started thinking of him as Harry instead of Professor Styles, because that’s what Niall kept calling him whenever he told a story that involved him as well and you love the ring of it. There’s a certain intimacy in calling him that, even if it’s just in your head.

In the heat of the moment you get rid of your dress and put on just an oversized shirt as you throw yourself back onto your bed, taking a few deep breaths as your hand slowly makes its way to your throat. Your fingertips trace the column of your neck, shamelessly imagining that it’s Harry’s touch on your heated skin, his thick rings adorning the fingers you’ve thought about being in your mouth, around your neck and between your legs…

Moving your hand to your chest, you palm one of your breasts, your fingers find your pebbled nipple and you give it a gentle tug, a soft moan slipping through your lips. Your eyes snap open, remembering that Kostas is at home, but judging from the silence, she is probably asleep, still trying to come back to life after his hangover. Ramona is spending the night at Dean’s, so you only have to worry about not waking Kostas. Luckily, he sleeps so heavy he could easily get mistaken to be dead sometimes.

You slide your hand down, across your stomach and pull the hem of the shirt up until the lower part of your tummy is exposed along with your underwear. You’re still wearing the lacy black thong you chose thinking about Niall, now it’s ironic how you’re touching yourself thinking about Harry.

Without a second thought, you dip your fingers under the elastic of your underwear and don’t stop until they reach your clit, finding it faster than any of your previous partners before.

You start off light, teasing yourself, gently touching where it feels the best, picturing Harry above you, his hand between your legs.

“Does this make you feel good? You like my touch on your wet pussy?”

You hear it as if he was really there. The rasp in his voice, the piercing eyes, it’s torture and pleasure at the same time.

“Have you been a good girl? Do you deserve my fingers inside of you?”

Your breath hitches as your own fingers slide between your lips, teasing yourself just how you like it and as you nod to yourself, like a silent answer to Imaginary Harry’s question, you push two of your fingers inside of you, gasping as your walls stretch at the penetration.

However, no matter what fantasy you’re playing in your mind, how fast or slow you’re moving your fingers, it’s not giving you the relief you’re desperately chasing, so you decide to get some help from your trusty friend under your mattress.

You’ve purchased the vibrator a few years ago when you finally fought the embarrassment you always felt upon walking past a sex shop. After a nasty breakup, you just walked into one of those and bought the first vibrator that caught your eyes, a bright pink one that ended up just the perfect size for your needs.

Getting rid of your underwear you switch your little friend on, put it on medium and then carefully replace your fingers with it, dragging it over your clit at first.

“Fuck, yes!” you breathe out, finally getting closer to the orgasm you’ve been aching for all day.

In your head, Harry is pounding into you, his body weighing down on you deliciously, you can taste his sweat as you kiss his shoulder, sinking your fingers into his hard muscles on his back.

It doesn’t take long until you’re gasping for air and finally come, the memory of Harry calling you a good girl replaying as you ride out the last waves of your orgasm. It’s amazing, you never fail to pleasure yourself yet this time you can’t help but feel like something was missing. Like it could have been better.

If you don’t get fucked by Professor Styles soon, you’ll lose your damn mind.

Groaning you drag yourself into the bathroom and take a quick shower before returning to your bedroom, but instead of going to sleep you find yourself sitting in front of your laptop. You pull up a new document and start typing.

It takes about an hour to write another one of your wildest fantasies, this one happening in Harry’s living room for a change. He takes you on the couch, it’s rough, he keeps slapping your ass and tugging your hair as he slams into you hard. He calls you good girl as he comes inside you.

Thousands of words are staring back at you again and as you lean back to look at what you’ve created, you think about getting rid of it like you should have done with the first one. But you can’t get yourself to do it, what’s worse, you have a plan forming in your mind, all of it just to get what you want.

Monday morning Harry almost calls in sick just so he doesn’t have to leave the house. Even though he doesn’t have a class with you today, he still fears running into you which could easily be fatal after the conversation you two had in his living room. He still hasn’t gotten over what he said and how he could let himself slip like that, but there’s nothing he can do now, he can’t take his words back.

Niall has some business today to take care of and he has already left the house. They made plans to meet some friends later today and for a change Harry is getting out as well.

He gets dressed and gathers his stuff for the day before he heads out to his car. He is so deep in his thoughts that he almost doesn’t notice the brown envelope on his windshield.

“What the…” he huffs, dropping his bag and folders to the passenger’s seat before he grabs the envelope from under the wipers. He looks around, searching for the possible sender, but nothing seems out of place, no one is watching him opening it. There’s an eerie feeling in the pit of his stomach as he pulls out the stack of papers inside, a note attached to the front.

He flips through the pages at first and his breath hitches when he reads a few of the lines. He recognizes your writing just from the first few words and before he could even think, he rushes back into the house and throws the document to the kitchen island as he scans over the pages as fast as he can.

He has no doubt that this is one of your dirty writings about him and you and he soon realizes that it’s set in his own fucking house, so he knows you wrote it sometime yesterday. Taking a deep breath he flips to the first page where the note is, written in your handwriting stands a message.

“But I can’t stop thinking about you…”

And underneath the words stands your phone number. Harry stares down at it for what feels like eternity before he shoves the note into his pocket, the pages back into the envelope before dropping it off in his room and leaving to the university.

NEXT PART

Thank you for reading! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #harry styles series #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #professor!harry #wildest fantasies #harry styles smut

[septembersummer]

COLLEGE FRIENDS W BENEFITS OR JUST ANYthing college/uni PLAYBOY GOJO X READER please im starving

hehehe let's go ~

i actually love this prompt so much! playboy/fwb gojo is one of my favs. thanks for the req!

18+ only! minors dni!

wc: 1.4k

desc: gojo satoru is a player, and everyone knows it. maybe he'll get a taste of his own medicine for once~

tags: gojo x reader, college au, fwb au, gojo has a tongue ring, oral s*x, public s*x, possessive gojo, role reversal hehe, gojo is a fkboy, alcohol use

a/n's: pls excuse my typos lmao hope u have fun

You were shocked the day that Satoru Gojo first paid attention to you.

He has many names around campus, and none of them are good. He's a player, a filthy rich boy who's never known the struggles that others go through when trying to survive college.

He needs to write an English paper? Well, that's no big deal; he's got a girlfriend who's an English major, and if she hates him this week-- he'll just hire someone to do it for him! The same goes for probability and statistics, whatever science class he's signed up for (he doesn't remember, it's not like he attends much, anyway), and he can't even be bothered to worry about his electives.

However, there's one girl in his assigned history class that's been catching his eye recently. Most of the girls in here have come and gone (pun intended), but this one's different. You know the answers to the questions, always mumbling them under your breath without ever raising your hand to speak.

Satoru knows this about you, because he pays more attention to you than to anything that's said in the lecture, and he's curious to learn more about you and your mysterious aura. See, he's learning things at university! Just not the things that he's supposed to.

You sit across the room from him, and you never pay attention to him, even though you must be able to feel his attention constantly lingering on you. Your fingers drum on your keyboard quickly, and Satoru finds himself wondering how small they'd look wrapped around his--

He's distracted from his train of thought when a miracle happens. A god's honest miracle.

For the first time in six weeks (he's counted), you turn your gaze to look at him, and you scowl. Your expression only piques his interest more, unbeknownst to you.

That one look must be the reason that you keep bumping into Satoru Gojo, even though you've never intentionally done so. See, you aren't dumb, and you don't want to get involved with a player like him. You've seen the girls that hate Satoru, and all of them have a great reason to do so.

He stood me up on a date, because he was going on another date instead!

He only hooked up with me once, just so I'd write a paper for him! I fucking hate Satoru.

He let me give him head and kicked me out right after, like, who does that?

He tried to have a threesome with me and his roommate--

Maybe the last one isn't so bad, but still. You've heard the rumors, you've seen the shit-show that comes with him, so much so that you could easily quote the words that he says to girls when he kicks them out after he's finished with them.

So, when he bumps into you at a party, your first thought is thanks, but no thanks.

The pretty boy, however, takes your clear dismissal as a challenge. Maybe it's because he's a little drunk, and you're here at his apartment (you don't know that, you were just hanging out with Shoko-- swear!), but Satoru thinks that tonight is the night that he wants to see a whole new side of the shy girl from history 2256.

"Excuse me," you mumble, as Satoru bumps into you, nearly spilling your beer.

He doesn't leave. Instead, he places a hand on the wall that you're standing up against, effectively trapping you against the drywall as he stares down at you.

His eyes are magnificent, ethereal, something that shouldn't belong to a human, but you aren't interested. You've told yourself a thousand times that you aren't interested-- no need to falter now.

"You don't look like a beer girl, wallflower," he hums, leaning over you and licking his lips.

When you see the glint of something that looks like a silver tongue-ring, your resolve falters, though only slightly.

"Who says I'm a wallflower?" You reply, trying not to feel so small standing next to him, but he really is huge.

He knocks on the drywall behind you, "See this? This is a wall, and you're standing against it at a party. Think that makes you a wallflower, according to the book."

Your eyes narrow, "Did you read that book?"

"Do I look like I read that book?"

You take a deep, shuddering breath, and the beer is working its magic. Even though he's saying basically nonsense, the mischievous gleam in his eye is drawing you into him.

Gone is the frat party that you've been watching from a distance. Literally, it's blocked out by his broad shoulders. He's wearing a thrasher hoodie, and goddamnit if he doesn't actually pull it off, despite the fact that you're sure this pampered, rich boy has never been on a skateboard in his life.

"No, you don't look like you've ever read anything," you reply, lowering your voice to a soft murmur.

What happens after that is a blur to you, but you aren't particularly upset about it in hindsight. It didn't take long for him to work his magic, for you to find his arrogant sense of humor a little endearing, and for him to find your openly insulting comebacks to be a cute little challenge for him.

A challenge that he's won.

He can tell that he's won, because you're lying in his bed with your legs spread wide, as he devours you. The party is still raging in the next room, but the only remnant of whatever's happening there that remains in this dark room is the methodic thumping of the music outside trickling into the room as he kisses, sucks, and slurps your pussy until you're mewling, grasping onto his hair for dear life.

Say what you will about the spoiled, filthy rich boy who goes through girls like they're disposables-- he's great at what he does.

"Satoru-- Satoru-- right there, I'm gonna-- nggh, ah--" you mewl, rocking your hips against his pretty lips, feeling his tongue ring slip over your clit, teasing and testing, while he fingers eagerly pump in and out of you.

"Mhm, cum for me, wallflower," he purrs, before giving an especially hard suck to your clit, and you're falling over the edge before you know it.

The room spins, and the only things grounding you are the thumping of the bass outside, and Satoru's hands that keep your thighs spread widely apart for him.

Even with hot cheeks, your resolve hasn't faltered that quickly yet. You sit up, placing your smaller hands overtop of his to pry them off of your thighs. He looks up at you in the darkness with confusion written all over his pretty features.

In response, you ruffle his hair affectionately and wipe your slick off of his glossy, soft lips, before leaning down to press a kiss to them.

"That was great, babe," you purr, "I'll call you next time I want you to do that for me."

"What?" He mumbles with shock written all over his features, as you stand up and fix your pants.

"Oh, did you think I wanted something serious?" You ask, remembering all those girls that have complained to you about Satoru's behavior.

At this point, you could quote him.

So, you do.

"You don't wanna spend the night?" He asks, looking a little frantic and confused, sitting up on the bed now as he watches you.

"Nah," you say, mimicking his tone, "but we'll see each other in class, Monday, right?"

"Our class is Tuesday," he mumbles dejectedly, as you lean over him to press another quick kiss to his lips.

"Ah, I forgot," you reply, caressing his cheek softly, "but I'll definitely call you, mmkay?"

You turn on your heels and head for his bedroom door, not even sparing him a glance as you leave through it and flatten your hair, off to find Shoko and get the fuck out of here.

Little did you know, trying to outdo Satoru in his own game would only lead you to trouble.

Which is why the next time he sees you, the two of you only have to exchange one heated glance before you're excusing yourself to the bathroom in the middle of the lecture, and Satoru's following right behind you.

The kind of trouble where every Tuesday at 10:15am, you find yourself bent over the sink in the girl's bathroom, as Satoru fucks into you roughly and reminds you that he's the only one that gets to see you like this.

And you like trouble, so you smirk and meet his eyes in the mirror, murmuring, "Ha, no way."

He only fucks you harder after.

#septemberanswers #request #jjk #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru #gojo #jjk fanfic #gojo fanfic #gojo satoru fanfic #lemon fic #college au #fwb au #fwb fic #septembersummerao3 #gojo satoru has a tongue ring #tongue ring

[helloalycia]

teenage dirtbag [four] // wanda maximoff

summary: Things finally explode between you and Nate, and Pietro decides to get to the bottom of whatever is going on between you and Wanda, though in usual Pietro fashion AKA not subtly at all

warning/s: none.

author's note: this is very beefy, i must admit, but i think you'll all enjoy the outcome 😂💘

part one | part two | part three | part five | masterlist | wattpad

Dinner with the Maximoffs wasn't as strange as I envisioned. Her parents were sweet and the twins did their best to make me feel comfortable. Wanda still seemed mildly frustrated whenever Pietro and I would talk though, and I figured she may have thought I was lying when I told her I didn't like him like that. I hoped that wasn't the case.

After dinner, Wanda took me upstairs to show me her bedroom. I'm not sure how to describe it other than it seemed so Wanda.

"I'm guessing red is your favourite colour," I said when I saw the hints of scarlet in her bedroom. On her walls, in her bedding, on her pillows. Just like her car and her jacket, they were all bright and very her.

"Great observation, Sherlock," she teased with a sly smile.

I returned the smile, sticking my tongue out at her playfully, before having a walk around and coming across her massive CD collection and CD player. Her music taste was actually quite similar to mine, which I definitely didn't expect. It just made her ten times more attractive to me which wasn't good, but oh well. I was here for a good time, not a long time. And my crush on Wanda Maximoff would surely be the death of me.

"D'you have any CDs at all?" she asked, joining my side when she noticed me staring at the shelf.

I crossed my arms, glancing at her. "Don't get me wrong. I'd love to collect them, but it's just so much easier to have Spotify, y'know?"

My intention wasn't to make her laugh, but God I was glad I did when her eyes crinkled and the sound rang around the room, making my heart pinch with adoration.

After giving me some of her pyjamas, the two of us got ready and brushed our teeth before I realised she wanted me to share bed with her.

"You wanna watch some TV before bed?" she asked, clearly not registering my hesitance to slide into her Queen-sized bed.

I swallowed hard. "S-sure."

She turned on the TV at the end of her bed as I slipped in beside her, still a bit rigid as I kept a fair distance from her.

"What you feeling? Comedy? Drama? Horror?"

"Anything is fine with me," I said, still tense.

She hummed in acknowledgement before leaning down on her pile of pillows behind her, edging closer to me. My heart was hammering in my chest as her hair tickled my arm from where she was laying.

"You comfortable?" she checked in, leaning backwards so her head was upside down to see me. "I have more pillows if you need them."

I offered her a small smile, hoping it disguised my nerves. "I'm good."

She nodded before flicking through the channels and eventually settling on reruns of The Office. It took time, but I eventually overcame my initial shock of sharing bed with the girl I had a major crush on and instead relaxed, getting comfortable under the covers.

After watching some TV, we called it a night and fell asleep quite quickly, the day taking its toll on us. For once, I wasn't panicking about doing something stupid. I simply fell asleep, trying to ignore the heat she emanated from beside me.

It was a peaceful night – her bed was super comfortable – and I woke up to the sound of Wanda moving about in her bedroom.

"Shoot, I'm sorry, did I wake you?" she asked when she saw me moving about under the blankets. I tried to blink away the sleep as she continued, "I was gonna wake you soon. School starts in an hour."

I rubbed my eyes, yawning, before sitting up and seeing she was practically already dressed. That meant she would have been up for a while, meaning she would have seen me fast asleep. God, I hated when people saw me sleeping. It always felt so weird.

"It's okay," I got out tiredly, before running a hand through my hair.

"You sleep well?" she asked, spinning around in her chair, her makeup half done. "I tried my very best not to use you as a teddy bear."

She was joking, but I felt my neck grow warm at the thought and damn, it was just way too early to be flustered.

"Yeah, I slept great," I settled, feeling her gaze on me. "Thanks again for having me over."

"Anytime," she said, and something told me it wasn't just a friendly response but that she actually meant it. Maybe it was the kind smile on her lips as she said so. "Just like last night, if you wanna use anything in the bathroom, go for it."

I gave her a thumbs up, taking a moment to wake myself up a little more, before heading to the bathroom to brush my teeth. When I returned to Wanda's room, I saw she'd already made the bed and had laid my clothes on top of it.

"I've got a shirt you can borrow," she said when I grabbed my jeans.

"Oh, I can just wear the same thing again, it's no biggie," I told her, already grabbing my shirt.

She pouted before grabbing a shirt from her closet. "Just hold on. You'll love it."

In no time, she came out from her closet and held out a Paramore tee shirt on a hanger towards me.

"I got it from the last concert I went to," she explained. "I thought you'd like it."

I couldn't help but smile at the thought. "Wow, Wanda. Really? You don't mind?"

She nodded, shaking the shirt as emphasis for me to take it. I did, having a look over it and smiling to myself.

"I'll wash it and give it back to you tomorrow," I promised, taking it off the hanger and holding it with my jeans. "Thanks."

"You can keep it," she said, scratching the back of her head apprehensively. "I've got loads."

"Oh, no, I can't do that," I began to deny, but she shook her head.

"It's fine, I'm giving it to you," she said, before smiling sweetly. "I'm sure you'll look better in it anyway."

Again with the warmth spreading up my neck...

"I doubt that," I quipped with a small smile.

"Go! Go get changed," she said, already pushing me towards the door. "I'll meet you downstairs for breakfast."

I snickered, letting her shove me into the hallway, before heading into the bathroom to get ready. The shirt was oversized, so there was no need to be worried it wouldn't fit. It was actually really nice, plus I liked it that extra bit more knowing Wanda gave it to me. Though I knew I wouldn't keep it. It was hers and she was just being nice.

When I finished making myself look presentable, I headed downstairs and found the twins at the kitchen counter, chatting between themselves. Their chatter ceased when I walked in, with Wanda biting her lip and looking me up and down with satisfaction.

"I was right," was all she said, making me nervous. "You do look better in it than me."

—

The day after that, I did as I said I would and returned Wanda's shirt to her, washed, folded and ironed. Knowing she wouldn't accept it without a fight, I left it in her bag when she wasn't looking during class.

I should have expected her to approach me at my locker afterwards.

"It was supposed to be a gift," she said, and I saw her pretty face reflected in the mirror hung inside my locker.

I turned around, already knowing what she was talking about.

"I told you I couldn't accept," I said politely, giving her a small smile. "I appreciate it though." She seemed disappointed which obviously didn't help with my feelings for her, so I took a leap and added, "Maybe I can get my own at their next concert. In the summer, right?"

She picked up on what I meant and smiled, stifling a laugh. Running a hand through her hair, she met my gaze and I found myself frozen in place as always, unable to look away. I wondered if she knew what she was doing when she did that, knew that she was giving me heart palpitations every time her lips turned into a playful smirk and dark eyes studied me curiously.

My eyes drifted to her lips subconsciously and she must have put on some lip balm or something, prior to finding me just now, as they looked shiny and pink and just so damn kissable. Nate was one lucky guy.

—

Having faced issues with Nate three times now (AKA the three times he happened to launch a football at my head), I'd figured I wouldn't be seeing the last of him. He was a dick, meaning he had a natural inclination to piss people off, particularly me. But I never thought he'd go for Y/BF/N.

We were chilling by our lockers, chatting about his film project, when his books suddenly got knocked out of his hands and he was shoved against the lockers. I straightened up when I saw it was Nate, looking pissed off as he had Y/BF/N's shirt bundled in his fist.

"What the hell are you doing?!" I shouted, trying to shove him off, but he merely pushed me back.

"This isn't your business," he said to me before glaring at Y/BF/N, who was quiet with panic. "You. You've been hanging around my girlfriend and I don't like it."

The colour drained from Y/BF/N's face as Nate slammed his hand to the lockers beside his head, startling him.

"I want you to stay the fuck away from Wanda!" he ordered, and students were starting to pick up on the fight that was clearly about to break out. "You fucking hear me, you nerd? Stay the fuck away!"

Poor Y/BF/N nodded his head, eyes avoiding Nate's. Meanwhile, I was angrier than Nate probably was. Y/BF/N had done nothing wrong. Maybe Nate had just seen Wanda hanging with me and because Y/BF/N was always with me, assumed the worst. Either way, this was no way to handle the situation and I was not gonna let this dick threaten my friend.

"Get the fuck away from him, Nate," I said through gritted teeth, glaring a hole into the side of his head.

Nate barely glanced my way. "I told you this isn't your business, honey."

"Five seconds," I said, standing behind him as a crowd began to form. "You've got five seconds or I'm gonna kick you."

He seemed to ignore me as he tightened his grip on Y/BF/N's shirt, only pissing me off more.

"Five," I began to count down, the grip on my books tightening with nerves and anger. "Four."

He still didn't look my way, just kept slapping Y/BF/N's face to scare him.

"Three, two, one," I said quickly, tired of giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Without waiting anymore, I kicked him between the legs with full force, watching as he instantly let go of Y/BF/N and doubled over. Everybody began to laugh, some making 'ooh' noises, but the consensus was clear – it definitely sucked to be Nate right now.

I tried not to laugh as I watched his face scrunch with pain, turning red. I was starting to appreciate my choice of wearing my doc marten boots today.

"No more balls for the guy who keeps throwing them at my fucking head," I got out, jaw clenching.

He looked up, his face crossing with realisation as he recognised me. In response, he glared in my direction, but it didn't faze me.

"Come on, Y/BF/N," I said, looking to my startled friend. "Let's go."

"What on Earth is going on over here?!" a teacher's voice rang out in the distance, and I groaned internally.

When I turned to leave, I heard Nate from behind me, grunting with dissatisfaction.

"Fuckin' dyke," he mumbled under his breath, and I paused, clenching my fists.

"Y/N, don't–" Y/BF/N tried to stop me, but I was too pissed to care.

I spun around and punched Nate square in the face, feeling good as his smirking face scrunched in pain and his back hit the lockers from the impact.

"Woah!" a teacher came out of nowhere, shoving herself between us and pushing me away from him. "What the hell is going on here?!"

I shook my hand to ease the pain on my knuckles, though the pain couldn't stop the grin on my lips as Nate raised his hands to his face, holding his busted nose. Students were going crazy, egged on by the potential fight, and for once, I didn't mind the attention. Nate had that coming for a while now.

"Everybody back to class! Now!" the teacher yelled, glaring all around her, before her eyes settled on Nate and I. "You two. Nurse's office now."

Nate glared at me behind his bloody nose and, once again, I tried not to laugh. Y/BF/N patted my back, amazement written on his face, before letting me leave with the teacher and an unusually silent Nate.

—

Kicking Nate in the groin and punching him in the face wasn't something I did to get attention, yet that's exactly what happened. Word of the incident spread around the school quite quickly, so much in fact that even students from other grades became aware of the situation and were approaching me to tell me how awesome I was. The whole thing was definitely strange, but I could tolerate it.

What I couldn't tolerate was having Chemistry after lunch and wondering if Wanda knew.

Would she hate me for punching her boyfriend? I wasn't sure. I just knew that when she walked into class and sat next to me, I felt everyone's eyes subtly watching us as if waiting for her to explode at me.

I'd been given an ice pack for my bruised hand after my visit to the nurse's office earlier whilst Nate had been treated for his broken nose (the fact that I'd broken it was hilarious to me, since I knew I wasn't even that strong). The principal had a very angry yell at us both in his office, neither of us willing to reveal the premise of our fight, before giving us detention every day after school for two weeks straight as punishment. Of course, Nate got his two weeks at a different time to mine for fear I'd punch him again (he definitely didn't like that, but he couldn't exactly say that to to principal).

I didn't bother using the ice pack in Chemistry for fear Wanda may ask what was up. I successfully managed to hide my hand and as a second surprise of the day, Wanda mentioned nothing about the incident. Not one thing about her boyfriend, about Y/BF/N, about any of it. I thought she might hint at it, trying to get me to bring it up. But she didn't which made me think she actually had no idea it even happened. Had anyone told her? Had he told her? Nah, probably not. His fragile masculinity probably caused him to change the story to something else so he didn't look like a wimp in front of his girlfriend.

Whatever it was, I was safe for now.

Thinking I'd got away with a confrontation from Wanda, I went about the rest of my day as usual. Well, that was until I was replacing some books in my locker at the end of the day and saw Wanda at her locker behind me, arguing with– yep, you guessed it. Nate.

Y/BF/N was collecting some books from his own locker beside me and we both exchanged looks as we saw the two lovebirds in a heated argument. Just when we were about to leave, someone cleared their throat from behind us, making us turn around.

Wanda was stood there, backpack hanging from her shoulder, beside Nate, who looked like he would rather be anywhere else but here.

"Hi," he started quietly, making Wanda clear her throat. He glanced at her before looking to Y/BF/N. "Look, man, I'm really sorry about earlier. I was wrong about what I said. We cool?"

I tried not to laugh at the way Nate was being forced to apologise by his girlfriend. Y/BF/N glanced to me with questioning eyes, so I simply shrugged.

"I guess...," he finally answered Nate, still a little awkward.

Nate nodded before looking to me. He still had his reservations, judging from the twitch in his expression, but for Wanda's sake, he kept his cool.

"I'm sorry for treating you badly," he said reluctantly. "With the football and just generally."

God, it was so hard not to laugh in his face right now. His nose had gauze taped to it and it made him look like an idiot. I fake coughed to disguise my smile, before meeting his gaze.

"It's, er, cool," I said, not in the mood to be an arsehole to him, even though he deserved it. I'd punched him – I think we were equal for now.

He nodded, before staying quiet. Glancing to Wanda, he waited for her to say something. She rolled her eyes and nodded for him to leave. When he was gone, she sighed tiredly.

"I only heard about what happened after Chem class," she said, mainly to me, a guilty expression on her lips. "I'm so sorry he acted like a jerk."

I chewed my lip, unsure what to say.

"It's okay, Y/N here took care of it," Y/BF/N said, smiling with amusement at me. Okay, well now she definitely knew.

"Yeah, sorry you felt you had to do that," she said with a grimace. "I guess he deserved it though."

"Kind of," I agreed, before noticing the regretful frown on her lips. "He apologised though. It's already happened. I kinda broke his nose... No point in dwelling on it."

She smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Yeah..." Her eyes fell to my bruised hand before lifting it gently. I winced at the ache, but let her hold it, studying the purple bruise painted across my knuckles. "That looks bad."

It felt good punching him though, but I wasn't about to say that since it was her boyfriend I was talking about.

"It's alright," I said dismissively, shrugging. "Nate kind of got it worse. I'll live."

The pad of her thumb stroked the bruise gently and I held my breath, the feeling of her hands holding mine sending shivers up my arm. Her eyes flickered to mine, softened with guilt, before she let go of my hand.

"I should head home," she said after a pause. "I'll see you both tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow," Y/BF/N said for both of us, sensing my loss of words.

Wanda held my gaze once more, eyes half lidded as they glanced down. Before I could even question what she was looking at, she waved goodbye and left.

"She's either starting to realise what a dick her boyfriend is or she's just really into you," Y/BF/N said, patting me on the back. "Maybe both, who knows?"

—

"You definitely cheated," I told Y/BF/N once we finished yet another round of air hockey. "Nobody wins six times in a row like that!"

He laughed at my expression. "Tell me, dear Y/N. How would I cheat? The concept of the game is simple, really. It's not my fault you're terrible."

I rolled my eyes lightheartedly. "Seventh time's the charm. C'mon."

He chuckled, about to put more money in the machine, before his eyes got distracted by something behind me. "Well, would you look at that. The Maximoff twins are here."

"Very funny," I said with a knowing look. "You can't throw me off like that. We've established I'm already terrible. Now c'mon. Let's go!"

"I wish I was joking," he said, shaking his head.

I scoffed, not believing him, and turned around to prove him wrong, but I was surprised when I saw Wanda and Pietro walking into the arcade we were in. They seemed to spot us instantly, waving in our direction before approaching us.

"Fancy seeing you here," Pietro teased with a smile as they stopped before us.

I cracked a smile as Y/BF/N joined my side. "We're hanging out. And you?"

Wrapping an arm around his sister's shoulder, he tugged Wanda close to him. "Sibling bonding time."

Wanda rolled her eyes at his childishness, but I could tell she found it endearing all the same.

"Well, if you want, you can hang with us," Y/BF/N offered, and we all looked to him, myself raising a brow his way. He seemed to sense my reluctance, it egging him on as he grinned at them. "Y/N doesn't mind. Do you, Y/N?"

I swallowed hard as I looked between the twins. "'Course not."

And that's how I found myself playing arcade games with the Maximoff twins that Saturday afternoon. It was actually pretty fun, with Pietro being as competitive as I was and Wanda being the sweetest loser with everything she played. It was so adorable, but I ended up letting her win some games of skee-ball just so I could see that cute nose scrunch of hers as she realised she'd won.

"You gonna let me win like that, too?" Pietro caught on as he took his sister's place in playing against me. He had a mischievous grin on his lips and I felt my mouth go dry at what he was implying.

"You wish," I said, playing it cool, though I wondered if he cared that I clearly let Wanda win. He wouldn't read into it, right?

Pietro took his go as he spoke. "So, I heard what happened with you and Nate at school last week."

I closed my eyes, cringing at the reminder. Pietro merely laughed.

"You kicked him super hard, right?" he asked excitedly. "I heard his face went so red with anger that you could fry an egg on it! And don't forget that punch, goddamn what I would pay to have seen that!"

"Pietro!" Wanda scolded from behind us as her and Y/BF/N played air hockey. "Don't be a tool!"

I felt my face heat up with embarrassment as Pietro continued to laugh. Y/BF/N joined in whilst Wanda tried to hide the smile dancing on her lips.

"You're not even together anymore," Pietro called to Wanda between laughter. Wait, did I hear that right?

"You and Nate broke up?" Y/BF/N asked with disbelief. "Our grade's 'it' couple broke up?"

Wanda ran a hand through her hair to distract from her flittering eyes. "He treated you horribly last week. Both of you." She glanced my way before looking at her shoes. "He was a jerk. It was long overdue... Also, I would have broken up with him there and then had I known what he'd said to you. I'm sorry he said what he did."

She stared at me with apologetic eyes and I wasn't sure what to say or do other than nod awkwardly and look away. The fact that she'd broken up with him put a smile on my face though.

"I just think it's awesome," Pietro admitted, before saluting playfully to me. "Thank you for your service. I knew you were awesome, but this is a whole new level."

I sighed, attempting to hide my smile, before straightening up to play. Pietro and I played some skee-ball before I decided to have a go at the claw machine. Wanda was at the one beside me, attempting to win herself a fluffy black cat plush toy. She'd had three goes before giving up, admitting to defeat.

"Typical Wanda," Pietro teased. "Giving up when the going gets tough."

She punched him in the arm, making him jump and rub it. That elicited a smile from her, making me laugh at their immaturity.

"How about Wanda and I go and get a table in the diner next door whilst you finish up winning whatever it is you're trying to win?" Y/BF/N asked, looking to me, as if assigning blame.

"I already told you, I'm not leaving this machine until I win at least one thing," I stated stubbornly.

"The amount of money you've put into the machine won't make up for whatever you win," Y/BF/N teased with amusement.

"Just go," I said, waving my hand dismissively. "I'll be there soon."

"I'll wait with her," Pietro said, resting a hand on my shoulder, making me shrug him off jokingly. "See you soon," he added with a laugh, to his sister and Y/BF/N.

When they left, I looked to Pietro with an amused smile. "I don't need you to look after me, y'know."

He shrugged and looked through the glass of the claw machine. "I know. But I stayed to give you some advice, princess."

"Oh, really? And what advice is that?" I asked, before putting some coins in the machine to have another go.

"People usually tend to win these things for people they like, right?" he asked, nodding to the plush toys in the machine.

"Or for themselves," I corrected with a curious smile. "Take Wanda for example. How badly did she want that cat?"

He crossed his arms, smiling with amusement. "You could win it for her, y'know."

"What?" I asked, half paying attention as I attempted to grab a teddy bear.

"Win the cat for my sister and give it to her?"

I ended up dropping the teddy from the claw as I looked to Pietro with shock. He laughed at my expression, leaning against the machine.

"You do like her, right? Otherwise this is awkward," he added as an afterthought, looking down and smiling to himself.

My jaw hung open. "I– er– I never really– I don't–"

"She must definitely like you," Pietro noted, glancing at me.

I licked my lips as I found my words. "Did she," I cleared my throat, "did she say something?"

"Well, no," he said, "but she looks like she wants to murder me every time I hang out with you."

"That's just a coincidence," I said, shaking my head and looking back to the machine. "She's not–" I thought about, before shaking my head again. "No."

I appreciated Pietro's help, but Wanda definitely didn't like me like that. She was just protective of her brother and friendly to me. It didn't mean anything.

"Look, you don't have to listen to me," he said, straightening up and looking at the machine as I slotted another coin in. "But you could give it a shot. See what happens."

I glanced at him, his blue eyes watching me knowingly, a matching smirk on his lips.

"Fine," I gave in, hoping it wouldn't backfire. "Let's see what happens..."

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #marvel imagine #marvel #mcu #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff au

[peachyysugaa]

strawberry

― mukbang youtuber!nishimura riki x gn!reader

riki's at it again, and by it, i mean microwaving foods.

genre: humor, fluff, established relationship

wc: 1.2k

warnings: cw food/eating

part of my youtuber enhypen series, the 2nd upload! feel free to read on its own~ ♞──────────────────────────♞

"y/n! i'm warning you, i'm going live!" riki shouts from the living room.

"alright! i'll stay here, let me know when you're done!" his s/o replies in the same volume.

"okay!"

this was a frequent occurrence: you come over to riki's place, the two of you hang out, he needs to film something for an hour or so, you give him space, he finishes, and the two of you cuddle after. while some of your friends question your boyfriend and your lifestyle with him, you really wouldn't have it any other way. 2 and a half years of dating riki, you've been through it all together, so there's no push for a something different or more.

"okay... let's wait for a while, yeah?" riki directs to his audience, watching the chat feed slowly increase in comments. when it seems like enough people have shown up, a smile breaks out on his face. "hey everyone, it's me again!

"you probably already read the title, but yea, imma do it." he points the camera down to the array of strawberry items that will soon be put in the microwave. "i don't know how people eat cold strawberries—they have no flavor to them!"

you scoff to yourself when he says that, shaking the digital trees on your island for fruits to sell.

"try one to see if you like it?" riki reads out loud. "eyyy, if i don't like it, i don't, but i'll prove it to you anyway if there's anyone new watching."

true to his word, the cold strawberry goes right into his mouth, and he makes a face, the camera picking it up. you don't need to watch the live to know that your boyfriend's nose is all scrunched up right now, making you giggle at the thought of it in the next room.

"now that you know," he continues, holding up a plate of strawberries. "i'll be microwaving these now."

the microwave opens and shuts before making its beeping noises as riki presses the numbers and heats them up for a couple of seconds. when they're ready, he's quick to get them out and show them to the camera before enjoying the taste of the warm strawberries.

"mm!" you roll your eyes at the sound of his satisfaction. his dog bisco has made its way into the room and plops next to your side, you gladly petting the curly fur at some points.

after a couple minutes, it seems riki has finished the warm strawberries, because he's moving onto the next item: tanghulu-style strawberries.

"you all said that you wanted me to eat this, and since it's already—" he takes this moment to tap the crystal sugary shell. "like this, i guess i'll just dive right in."

the sounds of delightful crunching can be heard, not unnoticed by bisco, whose head tilts at the eating sounds. you chuckle lightly, scratching its head and making the dog lay its head back down.

"ohh, i know why you all wanted me to eat this," riki acknowledges. "it's like asmr, okay, okay."

he lowers his voice and starts speaking like the asmr videos he's seen with you. "i think i'll microwave it just to taste," he whispers into the mic.

with that, the same microwave sounds of beeps and doors are repeated. "oh shoot, the sugar is making it stick to the plate," riki comments with a laugh, making you snort quietly. "i'll just..." he trails off, using a fork to free the sugary treat from the plate before plopping it into its mouth.

"oh! i like this better too! sorry, no crunching sounds for you," he laughs at the disappointed comments who wanted to hear the satisfying crunch of the tanghulu. "alright, next up... strawberry jam!"

instead of the usual glass jar it resides in, riki lifts up several small packages taken from food places as condiments. "i didn't wanna buy a whole jar—the tanghulu was expensive for no reason! plus, these are free, what can go wrong with free things?" a lot, apparently.

as by routine, he lifts up the wrap of the packaging and punches the back of it to immediately taste the jam. "hmm... it's alright, i guess."

riki lifts his head to read a comment. "huh? what's wrong with taking it straight like that? you know, jay hyung does worse, right?"

you giggle to yourself at the mention of one of his youtuber hyungs as you continue multitasking and listening.

"oh yeah, that reminds me. he did a video with his s/o, it was soo funny!" the youtuber laughs. "poor hyung, he said the manuca honey was so bad, he didn't want to eat honey for a week! go check out his channel after this and watch the video.~

"well, jay hyung needs to thank me for his free promo or whatever. it's time to microwave this noww," riki continues. it's going like normal: the microwave door opening and closing, the beeps of setting the time. but then it isn't. after a couple of seconds of heating, some loud pops are heard, and riki is shouting and laughing at the same time.

you and bisco shoot up and immediately rush to the scene. "riki! what is going on?!"

he turns around with a sheepish smile just as the microwave beeps to signal its end. pointing at the microwave, you notice the stains of strawberry jam on the door and groan out. you walk towards the kitchen and open one of the cabinets to take out the cleaning supplies, failing to notice that you had walked in front of the camera.

the comments go crazy with questions, and riki realizes he hadn't turned off his live, connecting the dots. he's quick to pull you into the frame with a beaming smile on his face. "well, this isn't the best way to go about it, but since you accidentally revealed yourself, i guess i'll say it: this is my s/o y/n, everyone!"

you blink owlishly, clutching the clorox wipes close to your chest with riki's arm around your shoulder. "huh?" you ask before the lightbulb in your head goes off. "ohhh! oh my gosh, hi?!"

you and riki had talked about the subject of your reveal before, but the how was always the reason you had never done it. with the accident, you guess this was the how now. you're laughing with riki at the whole situation as the comments flood with how cute the two of you are together. "riki! we need to clean the microwave before your parents come back," you playfully scold.

"oh right," he agrees before turning back to the camera. "well, two-in-one, everyone: strawberry mukbang goes wrong and my s/o revealed! see you next time!"

the two of you wave to the camera as the audience wishes you farewell and riki finally shuts off the live.

"you're a mess," you tease him, getting an eye roll in response.

"yeah, yeah, let's just clean up, okay?"

"how does this even happen? what physics is this?" you wonder aloud, opening the microwave to start cleaning.

"huh, maybe i have jake hyung's next idea for a video."

a/n: i wrote this in 20 minutes how 😀 i hope you all enjoyed this it's been a while since i wrote for riki hehe but i still judge him for warm strawberries LOL

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen niki #enhypenwriters #nishimura riki #nishimura riki x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fluff #enhypen niki x reader #captured on camera

[cheekygreenty]

I Know You part 2 - The Darkling x Reader

I knowwwww I took my time writing this but I think it deserves another part? Let me know 🥰

Read part 1 here.

You missed the warmth of the Little Palace and you hated that you missed Aleksander's warm embraces even more. As the tracker led you further up north, Alina and Mal reminisced on old memories and ultimately you stopped listening and kept to yourself, leaving you at the mercy of your own thoughts which were solely devoted to your intense betrayal. How could I of been so blind? You loved this man with your whole being and up until a week ago you would've gone to the ends of the earth for him and he had the audacity to lie to you. My Aleksander never existed, he was a figment of my imagination.

'Let's set up camp here.' Mal said putting his pack down with a wince. His shoulder was still badly wounded, your poor patching up did little to soften the pain. You pulled out your provisions and shared them with the others, thinking back as to whether selling the horse was a wise decision for mere hardtack.

'What do you think the General will do once he finds you with me?'' Alina never mentioned Aleksander's name and you guessed it was to avoid being questioned by Mal.

'Probably brand me a traitor and kill me.' You faced the truth head-on 'He was about to lock me away before I escaped and I'm guessing he's even angrier now.' You blurted as you chewed on the flavorless biscuit.

'Why are you here then? You can get away from Ravka, go to Ketterdam and never look back.'

'He'll find me, Alina. I might as well do something meaningful before I die.'

'What if he won't kill you?' Mal spoke up.

'I'd rather he did.' The thought of being Aleksander's prisoner struck a somber note in you and not for the reason they assumed. You didn't trust yourself enough to keep up your broken heart in Aleksander's presence for too long, that kind of love doesn't fade and around him, you were a slave to that emotion.

'We'll find the Stag and I can defeat him Y/N.' Alina sounded hopeful but at her words, you recoiled. Firstly, you knew she would fail, possibly killing Mal in the process but secondly, her statement ignited a brief spark of anger in you, a feeling of protectiveness for the man that was willing to take your life away from you. Stop being foolish. The man has killed countless times and will continue to commit atrocities in the name of power. You're better than that.

The rest of the night carried on as usual, Alina applying a salve to Mal's wound and you sitting against a tree, contemplating your life. Perhaps you should go to Ketterdam. You have connections there that would hopefully prevent you from becoming an indenture, but those connections could be used against you, a way for Aleksander to find you. Perhaps Novyi Zem would work for you. Alina and Mal had spoken about escaping there if she failed to defeat the Darkling, but you knew it was pointless. You had been by his side long enough to know there was truly no way you could hide and survive.

You know the parts of me that I showed you. His words echoed in your head as you tried to settle to sleep. Although you had uncovered his true face, you clung to his words like a lifeline. He showed you his loving side, he told you his name and his complicated relationship with Baghra, his mother. He trusted you with those things and he loved you, so he said. I do love you.

The tears came once again like they did every night. You had quickly come to understand that Alina and Mal were blind to your waterworks and were under the impression you hated Aleksander and wanted him dead as much as they did. If only they knew you fell asleep dreaming of his arms around you, whispering sweet nothings like he always did.

The snow was a thick blanket now as you approached the Fjerdan border. Mal was certain the Stag would be found any day now and with each passing moment spent dredging through the snow, you cursed your decision of coming with them. You haven't been of much use to the pair on the journey anyway, except letting the wind carry the smoke away when the fire was burning or blowing snow out from the trees when you settled for camp, but Alina insisted you were necessary. From Mal's behavior, you gathered he felt uneasy around two Grisha, so maybe Alina wanted you here to know she wasn't alone and her powers weren't strange.

You listening half-heartedly as she explained to Mal she was the one who needed to kill the animal but stopped when you heard a rustling in the distance.

'That way' Mal noticed too

'Hang on'

'What are you doing'

'I need to get closer to it' You blocked them out, your senses wholely devoted to watching the magnificent Stag. Saints, it's even more beautiful than I imagined it.

You saw her reach out and touch its snout, a light dome so bright erupting from their contact you shielded your eyes away. In doing so, you noticed the faint outline of a blue kefta in the trees, quickly heading for you.

'NO' you tried to block the shot but it was too late, the dome fell apart.

'The animal is not meant for you' Zoya bellowed as she fought to secure the stag.

You fought her in return, desperately attempting to knock her and the others off their feet but two strong hands caught you, restricting your movement.

'Take her' You heard his voice before you saw the contrast of his black attire against the snow. You fought against the soldier keeping you trapped, thrashing and kicking with all you could muster, completely ignoring the screams and shouts erupting from Mal and Alina.

He came to face you, eyeing you up and down, as if searching for any injuries. Even in the dark, you noticed the tiredness evident in his eyes with a hint of desperation. But no relief or love directed to you.

'Ivan, subdue her' was the last thing you registered before your eyes closed shut and deep sleep came over you.

***

You woke with a start, having felt no time pass in your dream-lacking slumber. The snow from earlier was replaced by lavish silks and drapes in a warm tent, his tent. You would recognize the eclipse sign from a mile away, especially on the embroidered cushion beneath your head or on the buttons of the coat you were donning. His kefta. He must’ve put it in you while you were passed out.

There were no cuffs around your wrists or restraints around your ankles as you lay in his comfortable cot surrounded by the sound of a crackling fire in the stove that always brought some level of comfort to you.

There was nobody in the tent with you, but you suspected a guard was posted by the entrance flap to ensure you didn't try anything stupid. You hesitated to get up. Will he be waiting for me? You didn't want to face him or fight him. The thoughts of a civil conversation with him withered away the more you reflected on your throbbing feeling of betrayal, but there was still that small voice in the back of your head, or rather your heart, that wanted to forget about everything and just lay with him like you did every night. The conflict caused you to cry yet again that night for exactly the same reasons as before.

You finally got up once the last tears dropped, your light footsteps carrying you over to the small fruit bowl sitting by the lamps. It was rewarding to taste the sweetness of a grape after so much time spent eating hardtack and hard cheese, all Saints willing, you'd never have to look at those things again. You heard the tent flap open and slowly, you turned to face Aleksander.

'You've been crying.' He observed and took off his heavy cape, laying it carelessly on the cot you had just slept in and standing away from you, keeping his distance although his own heart dropped to see you in such a state.

'Do you blame me?' Your voice was strong despite your appearance,

'I hope you are well-rested. The journey here mustn't've been very kind to you.'

'It was better than being your prisoner and rotting away in a cell in the Little Palace.'

'Do you really think so lowly of me Y/N?'

'I don't know what to think Aleksander.' You hugged his huge kefta closer to your body, enjoying being enveloped by his scent. Another thing that brought you comfort.

'I never lied when I said I love you.' His voice grew softer but you willed yourself to ignore it. The small voice told you to run up to him, kiss him, hold him and tell him you loved him too, but the logical part kept you firmly planted in your place.

'If I recall correctly, you said 'I love you but'...'

'You never stuck around to what I wanted to say next.'

'I doubt it would have fixed this.' You gestured to the lengthy space between your bodies and he took it as an opportunity to walk closer to you.

'Is there anything we can do to fix this?' He asked desperately and your heart leaped in your chest but it didn't last long as his hand caught your attention, The Stag.

The realization flooded over you with a jolt of pain for the second time in two weeks. Unable to hold it back, a bone-shattering sob erupted from you at the impending doom he was about to unleash on Ravka.

His eyes followed your own with anguish so obvious it hurt him, but he had to avert them fearing if he watched your pained expression any longer, he would rip out the amplifier himself without a second thought just to stop the heart-breaking sobs shaking your body. He reached out for you but stopped himself, the last thing she needed was his comfort of all people, he thought.

But you yearned for him despite the situation, so when he stepped closer once again, you rested your head on his chest still uncontrollably crying.

‘Why are you doing this’ your hands now held a deathly grip on his shirt, but all he could think about was the fact that you sought his touch out first, maybe there is some hope left.

‘For Ravka, for all Grisha.’ The answer felt automated and scripted but it was all that remained of his goal. There was nothing else, no one else, that would benefit from this except him and her.

He wrapped one arm around you and when you didn’t pull away, his other arm went to your waist, pulling you close and pressing his lips to the top of your head in an attempt to soothe you. Ironically, it had the exact opposite effect as you cried even harder because despite everything he’d done and everything he was about to do, you didn’t want to leave his side.

The conflict was rampant in your head and part of the shed tears were in an effort to calm your mind.

‘I’m going on a skiff journey across to Novokribirsk in a couple days. I wish for you to go back to the Little Palace.’ He spoke but didn’t loosen his comforting hold on you.

‘Why?’ You managed to croak out.

‘You want to come with me?’

‘I don’t know’

‘Let’s sleep. You’ve had a long day.’ He only briefly let you go to take off the kefta he placed on you earlier, but he was right back at your side as you settled against his chest on the cot. Although you had only just woken up from Ivan's induced sleep, your mind was tired from the self-hate your logical side spewed at you.

‘This is wrong. They’ll hate me for this.’ I hate myself for this.

‘If it is so wrong then tell me to go away. I’ll listen.’ You knew he would but you wanted him here with you.

‘Were you ever going to tell me?’

‘Yes. But I stopped myself after seeing how happy you were. I couldn’t bring myself to stop that.’

‘And look where it brought us. Look at me now.’ You raised your head from his chest and looked him in his onyx eyes. They radiated affection and forgiveness, both of which you were ready to give him. I’m a fool for this.

‘And I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy Y/N.’ The determination in his voice pulled at your heart, for the next thing you knew your lips were on his, kissing him as if there was no tomorrow.

-----

Taglist (tell me if you want to be added !!)

@aleksanderwh0r3 @theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @lostysworld @0-artemis @exo-1204 @staradorned @bookfrog242 @simp-for-ben-barners @keepdaydreamingbb @acciorudolphx @pansysgirlfriend @pansysgirlfriend @justmesadgirl @theriveroftruth

#shadow and bone #the darkling #imagine #the darkling x reader #ben barnes #alexander #alexander morozova #fanfic #alina starkov #grisha #general kirigan x reader #black general #general kirigan #kefta #series #shadow summoner #keftas #little palace #one shot #one shots #aleksander morozova

[whosjunglejim4322]

Bramosia | J.Seo (m)

Genre: pwp, knight!au, smut, fluff, he is, and I can't stress this enough, madly in love with you

Warnings: loss of virginity, pussy eating, mutual pining and longing, it's forbidden but who's gonna stop u??? Exactly. Inaccurate descriptions of the time period probably, inappropriate use of the word princess, he fucks you to tears, this is so self indulgent I gotta blast

The moons unearthly luminescence bleeds through the windows that sit directly above your wing of the old castles corridor, a reminder of why he bears the heavy sword that hangs off of his hip, of why he's here in the first place.

He rolls his aching neck, blinking his dry eyes a few times in an attempt to dampen them. He's usually not so worn by now.

Perhaps the two of you had gotten too carried away last night, it's too easy when you're with eachother. Effortless, like that of a flowers perianth traveling wistfully through a summers breeze. It's easy to forget.

He's here to protect you, nothing more, as he is was a proffesional in all that he does. He is a knight, after all. One of the best. Your father wouldn't have requested him from a province so far away if he weren't damn good.

Six months ago, it seems like a lifetime away and yet the memory of seeing you for the very first time is so vivid behind his eyelids, tangible as if he could reach out and hover his palms over the warmth the halo around you seemed to emit.

He smiles to himself, the image keeping him sane and distracting him from the ache in the soles of his feet. He knows you're probably not sleeping, he wishes you wouldn't worry about him. He's doing it to himself, really.

He is a warrior but he is only so strong, so resilient. He has never been stricken by such a force as to have his bones feel as weak as they do when he looks into your eyes, when you cup his face in your hands like he is the most delicate thing you have ever seen. 

Sure, he hadn't been the most nonchalant. His eyes barely left you even during the brief moments in which his life is not sworn over to do so, and you being you, caught him almost every time. You'd smile, fleeting enough for only him to notice.

You never get the credit you deserve, he had come to find out over the past several months. Being a princess, as fawned over the title may be, it wasn't meant for you.

You'd scowl at the name of every prince your father mentioned might come visit, which he'd take pride in secretly. You wouldn't even scold him whenever he'd been clearly protective in a manner than suggested that it was more than just the job that inclined him to act that way.

Perceptive, and clever you are. And to think, you might feel even a fraction of what he feels, it causes his heart to thunder loudly behind his sturdy ribcage, momentarily reducing his fatigue.

You are the only one in all of his twenty five years of life that has threatened to shake his very foundation, like you've found a way to wind yourself through every ridge of his skeleton like vines of Wisteria.

Sundays are always the hardest, you're still so fresh in his mind, on his skin. It's like every inch of him has been permanently marked, he can still feel the weight of your body against his and the warm puff of air from your lips against his earlobe as you sing his name.

His sigh is quiet in the vast, empty space around him. He shouldn't be thinking of you so late, when he's so tired. It makes him ache for you all the more, make him wish life was anything but what it is now. That he could be with you unabashedly.

That he could be your protector, and not just in a way that could be be permanently devastated if anyone were to find out about the two of you.

He doesn't realize he's closed his eyes, not until he has to peel them open and search for the source of the soft voice he's just heard whisper his name into the dark.

He furrows his brows as a stream of warm candlelight spills through the crack in your door from your room, your form coming into a few just a moment later, as if beckoned from his dreams.

"You're really going to stay out there, John?" He foresees your incredulity, smiling at the hand thats propped up on your hip.

"Those are my orders, princess." He has a hard time not staring at you, even in such poor lighting you are still the most beautiful thing he's ever witnessed.

He's always stubborn about breaking the made up rules you two have put in place, like only meeting in private on Saturdays. Despite his inability to resist you he still needs to keep you safe.

"My father is a whole wing away, don't you know," you emphasize your point by stepping out past your doorframe, tiptoeing at an almost imperceptible pace towards him. "and if danger were to arise, how much more convenient need it be, than for you to be right there with me?"

You're standing right in front of him now, weaking his resolve eith each syllable that passes those pretty lips of yours. It's strange, how he still wonders if your feelings for him are resolute as his are for you, when you're the one always asking for trouble. Eager to have your way.

When you reach out to grab his waist, he breaks.

"Princess, if someone were to see that I'm not outside of your room guarding as I'm supposed to,"

You interrupt him, pressing yourself closer until he can feel your chest against his, the barrier of his clothing suddenly a burden far heavier than before.

"Who? Who might see? Everyone is asleep, you should be."

You stare up at him and he can't seem to resist the pull, meeting your eyes and unclapsing his hands from behind his back to stroke the apple of your cheek with his knuckles.

You heel into his touch, beaming as you realise you've already gotten your way, evident in the way he sighs your name as if the word fills him with oxytocin.

"You really are trouble," he cups your face, calloused fingertips swiping a fallen lash from underneath your eye. "trying to lure me in, like a siren. I'd be willing to go, anyways."

You lift yourself to the tips of your toes, pressing a brief, featherlight, kiss to the surface of his lips. Just enough to bring forth warmth to his cheeks.

"You're silly, I'd be too selfish a siren to do any damage. I'd have to keep you all to myself."

His arms are strong and steady as the encapsulate you, the fears and worries of outside intruders fading with each second spent in eachothers presence. It's like nothing else exists.

"Please, Princess. It's hard enough already, to be away from you," he's on the verge of losing any bit of hope for his sanity, but as anticipated, you won't have it.

"And you don't think it's hard for me? You think that I enjoy knowing that it is prohibited for me to be like this with you? I am many things but I am not selfish, so if you don't want to come with me then I won't force you."

He has to bite back a laugh, or maybe a scream of frustration and agony all at the same time. Here you are, so close he's sure you can hear how his pulse pounds beneath his skin at your presence, actually accusing him of not wanting you. It's preposterous.

You glare up at him when his arms don't loosen their grasp.

"You must be mistaken, sorely mistaken. If you think that any moment spent without you is even the least bit pleasant for me, you're wrong. So wrong it's a bit humorous," he kisses your cheek, and then the other. Your skin tingles where his lips grace.

"You may not be selfish but I am. So selfish that I'd give into my own desires even if it meant that one slip up could ruin it all. Don't you see that?" You sigh blissfully, in spite of his words, when he kisses your nose.

"Well I think that's stupid, I'd never let such a thing happen. I've lived here my whole life, I'd be able to predict the likelihood of someone coming up here during such a late hour."

He doesn't miss the pitch of sadness that comes with talk of the castle, he knows that there is so much you still have yet to experience. So much you'd like to do, so far away from here.

Still, he can't deny the truth in which you speak. You're right, and he knows that you're as careful of these things as he is. He trusts you, as you trust him. And what is he going to do, say no? He'd never have the willpower.

His broad shoulders relax, his hands suddenly engulfing yours.

"Alright, you don't have to pout anymore. You know I'll end up kissing it from that pretty face of yours anyways."

You suppress a giggle of elation, squeezing your fingers around his as you turn to quietly pull him into your room, peering into the the hallway once more to make sure the coast is clear, before you ease your door shut.

And then at once, he is what you taste on your tongue.

His lips always leave you breathless. The way he kisses you, it's as of you are his only source of oxygen and his lungs burn with the need for air. He is fierce, but so very concise. You almost forget that he so ruefully pretended to put up a fight.

Your arms mold around his neck as he slouches the slightest bit in order to make the reach easier for you, knowing how you like to bury your hands in his hair and tug at the strands whenever he does something that you'd like more of.

Your eagerness is a bit more exuberant tonight, normally you'd still be a bit bashful, giggling between pecks and having to turn your face away before kissing him again.

But you haven't pulled away from him yet, not even for a breath and suddenly his skin is sweltering towards what feels like a hundred degrees. He's pretty sure you've just whispered his name.

He's already gone, helplessly lost in the way you're clinging onto him with all your strength.

"John." Just his name falling from your lips in the form of a sweet sigh has his knees buckling.

He's careful, hesitant even, when he cups the back of your knees and allows you to fall atop your bed, the sight almost too much to bear. He can never catch a break.

But he has to look at you, has to see the look in your eyes, the gleam that shines in your blown out pupils as your fingers tug at the clothing hanging loosely on his body. He fights back a groan.

Of course things have gotten intense between the two of you, but nothing more than over the clothes petting. And, even then, that drove him to the brink of insanity. He didn't think he could ever be putty in someone's hands until he met you.

It feels like everything is happening so fast yet not slow enough, it seems as if you're blooming like a lotus before his eyes and he wants to capture every little detail. Just incase one day his memories are all he has of you.

You pull him back down to your mouth, legs suddenly looping around his trim waist, knees locked on either side. You practically purr as his hands, large and tender, grace your thighs only to be met with bare skin where your nightgown has risen up.

He's breathing heavily when your mouths depart momentarily, his doe eyes an onyx pit of desire and emotion as he stares down at you, lips ruby red.

You nod, as if reading his mind and answering the dozens of unanswered questions that sit unmoving at the tip of his tongue. Still, his eyebrows are pulled together in concentration, in tentative restraint.

"You can touch me. Please, touch me."

Your skin is heavenly underneath his trembling touch, from the soft hair atop your thighs to the way you so perfectly mold around his fingers. You're a gift of the most ethereal kind, here in front of him.

You coo at him with a voice of an angel, pulling at his face in an attempt to have him kiss you again. He's been too busy ogling, and repays you with the press of his mouth against the crook of your neck.

You lift your chin to allow him more access, eyes fluttering closed and thighs tightening around his middle when you feel the warmth of his open mouth against your throat.

"You're so sweet, so pretty." He mumbles, practically floating.

He nips at your collarbone, and you can't stop your hips from bucking up against him, your clothed center meeting his hardened length through the material of his bottoms.

The air is thick with tension now, you can feel it buzzing through the both of you like ths thrum of a thunderstorm. He sucks in a breath, lips ghosting over yours.

"I want to make you feel good, If you'd allow me." He tries to control the shake in his voice but he's not sure he's succeeded. What a mess you've made of him.

You kiss him for what seems like the hundredth time but feels like the first, still sending jolts of electricity through your body and causing heat to swirl in your loins. You can barely speak.

"Y-Yes, yes I'll allow you."

Your voice is foreign to your own ears, clouded with desire and a desperation that is as overwhelming as it is strange and new.

But having him here, knowing he's the one whose hands are touching you, it's comforting in a way that leaves no room for doubt that he is nothing but kind. Nothing but adoring.

It's hard to tell with just the luminosity of a single candle on your bedside table, but you're almost certain you can feel him shuffle. At least, his weight seems to have shifted, his arms suddenly caged around your waist, upperhalf between your legs.

And then you feel it, the plushness of his lips just above your knee as he lifts your legs by your calves, placing them over his shoulders. You're not sure you can focus on anything else now, breathing suddenly heavy.

"You're so beautiful, you know that?" His voice is so close, yet far away in an unfamiliar way. It has butterflies swarming your belly.

"I'm so lucky, so so lucky..." He trails off between kisses, shifting from one thigh to the other, slowly but surely making his way towards your center.

It's only now in your bird brain that you're beginning to realize what exactly he's about to do, and it's like some switch inside of you has been flicked on, toes suddenly curling in anticipation, wetness soaking into the fabric of your underwear.

The desire isn't just in your belly now, its everywhere. All consuming, when he pushes your nightgown up and bunches it around your hips, the air cool against your skin. You shiver, and his cheek brushes against the crease of your thigh.

"Have you ever been touched like this, princess?" He's curious but not pushy, just wants to know. When you shake your head, he swallows.

He's slow and steady, pulling your underwear off your hips and down your legs, allowing the garment to fall to the floor. You don't clamp your legs shut, despite the instinct to shield yourself. You've never hidden yourself from him, and you know there's no reason to.

Esepcially not when he's looking at you like he is right now, like a man starved whose just been presented with a meal of his favorite kind. He glances up at you, with eyes that shine with gratitude, and awe alike. You reach out to stroke his hair.

And then, suddenly, his face is gone from your view. You feel it, first, before you register that it's happening. A gasp leaves your lips the moment your back arches ever so slightly off of your mattress, his hands keeping your thighs apart as his tongue licks another flat stripe through your folds.

You feel exposed in a way that only feels as intoxicating as it does, because he's the one with his mouth on your cunt, suckling your bud between his lips and swiveling his head side to side. You tug at his hair.

A guttural groan resonates in his throat and the vibration serves as direct stimulation, a mewl leaving your mouth as you buck you hips up against his skilled tongue.

"Shhh baby, stay quiet for me," you furrow your eyebrows, looking down at him with stars in your eyes. "I know, I know sweetheart." He reads the pleading in your eyes, soothingly rubbing your hips as he delves back in.

It's not easy to stay quiet. Not at all.

If you'd thought him rubbing your clit through your clothes was something to be noisy over, nothing prepared you for this.

He's so good at it, so generous with every lap of his tongue. The sounds are lewd and loud in the shared space, and his tongues pace only increases when you reach down to find his hands. He intertwines your fingers before you give him the hint.

You try to keep your volume low, your whimpers almost inaudible but loud enough to spurr him on, to have his hips rutting against the bed while he kisses your cunt with passion only a lover could have.

Bliss overcomes you faster than you expect, and swallows you whole like a vicious, unmerciful hurricane.

Your thighs tremble against his strength as he keeps them parted when they threaten to close, your fingers twisted in the comforter as tears well in your eyes.

You're not sure if you're making any noise, the light too bright behind your eyes, bones suddenly weightless as his tongue licks you clean. You twitch, aware that you've let out a whine. The feeling is agonizingly pleasant.

You're still throbbing when his hands suddenly grasp your jaw, head lolling in his direction as he presses his lips to yours. He's serene, slipping his tongue into your mouth, humming.

You're certain, now. Certain that you need to have him in every way there is to have someone, for your heart may forever be unsettled if it doesn't get to taste what it's like to love him wholly, completely.

"I want to-" you've got his rapt attention, as you always do, and he stares down at you with a lovesick expression as you struggle to find the strength to say it out loud.

He's grown accustomed to reading your countenance, only time allowing him to grasp the meaning behind every crease and line that forms on your face, he's certain you could give him one look and he'd instantly know what it is that you're trying to say.

One perk to having a secret rendezvous, though he still needs to hear you say it. He'd only take your word for it regarding something like this, something that he's dreamt about more times that he'd like to admit.

He can't hide his surprise, thumbs stroking your face.

"You want me to..." he quirks an inquisitive brow, nearly becoming distracted when your tongue darts out to wet your bottom lip. "you want me to be your first?"

Even the words have you latching onto him tighter, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin against yours.

"Yes, I want that very much...do you...also want that?"

He grins, widely and for a moment you forget he was born to be made of steel, that he's fought all of his life and has bruised his skin for the sake of his kingdom. You want to kiss away every bad memory in his head.

"How could you even think you have to ask? I want nothing more, just you. You're all I'll ever want."

The veracity in his voice, suddenly hoarse, makes your skin feel like it's being tickled by a million, tiny feathers. You never knew anything could feel like this.

A heartbeat later, your hands are slipping underneath his top to make an attempt at pulling it off, your excitment not a good match for your lack of coordination. Of course, he doesn't mind helping.

He slips his sword from his hip while you stare up at him with wide eyes of reverence and desire, so much of him being exposed at once causing a swelter of heat to boil underneath your skin.

Your hands are hesitant, hovering around his lithe hips as he sits back on his haunches, chest rapidly rising and falling as the atmosphere begins to soak into his pores. He can't believe he gets to make love to you.

"You can touch me, princess," he's the one reassuring you now, knowing that beyond your headstrong personality when you're with him, you're still so timid; trembling like a leaf in autumn.

His dexterous fingers gently grasp your wrists, placing your palms over his abdomen, keeping your gaze all the while, head nodding in encouragement.

He's soft, soft on the surface at least. The soft down that covers his honey colored skin is like silk underneath your fingers, a juxtaposition to the rigid muscle underneath that flexes as your fingertips move upwards towards the broad planes of his chest.

You hook your fingers around his shoulders, and pull him down to your mouth, determined as your heart bellows inside of your body.

It's wilder this time, the wet sounds loud in your ears, his tongue waltzing with yours. You rake your nails down his sides, and he damn near growls.

It's a blur, the way he slips the straps of your gown from off of your shoulders, before removing the garment completely and throwing it behind him. Somewhere in between he pulls the covers out from underneath you, sensing the chill that runs through you like a tremor from the exposure.

It's during that brief moment when you're too drunk on adrenaline, that your fingers begin pulling at the buckle of his bottoms, too eager again and not being able to unfasten it correctly. Always the gentlemen, he does it for you, again.

He's careful now, not completely planting himself against you yet when he kisses your neck and takes your breasts in his massive palms, squeezing indulgently.

You pull him up by the ridge of his jaw, wrapping your legs around his middle as you had previously, letting out a small gasp as his hard length suddenly comes to lie heavy between your legs when you beckon him closer by your heels on his back.

"You're sure you want me?" He slips his hand that's not cupping your cheek, down in between your bodies to rub your clit with his middle finger, actually expecting you to be able to speak coherently. He supresses his gasp upon feeling the abundance of your essence.

It's hard to focus, when he's looking down at you like that, when you can feel every ridge and curve of his naked body against yours. Perhaps it's being able to to tell that he's feeling the same way just by the way he speaks, that makes it so intoxicating.

"You're all I'll ever want." You echo his earlier words, and his laughter fills your ears like a lullably. You reach out to push his dark hair out from in front of his eyes, his lips catching your palm and placing a kiss to the center.

"It'll hurt, I'll go as slow as you need me to." You see the worry creased between his brow, and you soothe it away by clenching your thighs around his waist, silently beckoning him.

"Please, please fuck me."

It takes him by surprise, cock twitching against your sex. You sound so sweet, so angelic even when you're requesting something so filthy.

He lifts himself on his forearms, reaching down to grasp his shaft. Your hands are in his hair a the while, fingers tracing shapes across the nape of his neck. You suck in a breath when he rubs the tip against your clit, arousal leaking from your slit.

He rubs his cock against you like this, through your silken folds and back up to your sensitive nub, until your head is thrown back against the pillows, face turned to the side and canorous mewls slipping past your lips.

Your eyes flutter open when he kisses you, finally prodding your entrance, readying you. Your teeth gently sink into the plush surface of his bottom lip, as if urging him to continue.

Your mouth falls open when he begins to push himself inside of you. You have to brace yourself by clinging onto his biceps, reminding yourself to breathe.

If you weren't as wet for him as you are, you're sure it would be more painful. It still stings, even more so as he begins to bottom out, using every bit of self control he has as to make sure he doesn't accidentally rut into you with too much force.

He meets your eyes when he's fully sheathed inside of you, your fingernails leaving crescent moons in his skin. He doesn't mind it one bit.

"Are you alright?" The tenderness in his voice is accompanied by his lips across your cheeks, down your jaw, over your eyelids.

"Mhm. J-Just stay like this, for a second, please." Your walls flutter around him and his eyes fall heavy. He stays as still as he can for the moment, fingers massaging your soft hip.

"I never thought...never dreamed we'd get to do this." He speaks in an irrevocable way, swelling your heart over two times its size with how he talks about you. Like you're truly something magical.

You wiggle your hips, his gaze searching for yours and lighting up with newfound determination when you give him conformation to move. He slowly drags himself out, before pushing himself back in.

"If you only knew...how much I truly think of you." You speak steadily despite the wave of pleasure that ripples through your body, from the pit of your stomach outwards, touching every nerve.

He's big, bigger than you expected, but curved in a way that has you fighting a cry. Your lungs ache with the need to make noise, to express how it feels to have him inside of you like this. You squeeze around him, and he smashes his lips against yours.

You never thought it would feel like this, you'd heard mixed reviews but clearly none of them had ever experienced what it's like to have someone like him demonstrating their skill.

He's precise, a little shaky but only because he's concentrating on not literally cumming after two minutes. You're everything he's ever wanted and more, you're soaked and warm around him, chest pressed flush against his. Your hardened nipples threaten to distract him.

His hair tickles your forehead as he begins to create a steady pace. He's got one hand behind your right thigh, cupping it and hiking it up just the slightest bit while he fucks into you, curling his hips.

He swallows your moans, tasting the sense of surrealness on your tongue. He feels it too, groaning when you tug a tuft of his hair.

"You're mine, all mine, fuck." His voice is hoarse, hips stuttering as he begins to rock into you, not completely pulling himself out of you before nudging your cervix again. His mouth catches the edge of your jaw, then your earlobe.

He buries his face in your shoulder, and you wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your lips against his hair as you keep yourself quiet. He can still feel the way you're shivering, the whispers of cries that are audible when you breathe.

"I'm yours, I'm yours." You're not sure you could ever feel this way about someone else, and not just because he is all that every single one of your senses seemed to be attuned to.

He's deep inside of you, reaching places you never would be able to by yourself, and still holds you like you're the entire world. Despite the need that consumes you both, he takes his time.

You feel him everywhere. On your neck, your throat, down to your clavicle where his hot tongue soothes over the mark he's just made.

You can almost feel him in your belly, the tip of his cock nudging the sweet spot of nerves deep within you causing your body to jerk in his hold. He takes note and is determined to drive you over the edge, knowing he's not going to last much longer.

He's yearned for it too long, and nothing his mind could have conjured up would ever compare again.

He lets go of your leg only to bring his hand to where your bodies are connected as one, your face contorted into a mask of pleasure as he begins to rub at your clit, in circular motions, with the same rythym as his thrusts.

"John, ohhh, you f-feel so good." You're slurring your words, high off of his affection. Your belly feels hot, a pressure just behind your navel leaving you writhing, trying to match his pace.

"Yeah? Feels good to have me inside of you?" He's being cruel now, already knowing the answer by the way tears are swelling in your eyes for the second time tonight, irisises shining back at him.

Your hands roam his sides, settling on his hips as you turn your face to hide it against his bicep. He kisses any expanse of skin that he can reach, till the wet spots leave a trail of chills along your body.

You're close, and he knows it. You're already leaking onto the bed, dripping down his shaft.

"J-John...p-please." You're blubbering now, and his fingers circle your clit faster, just enough to have you breathless and unable to speak as his strokes become inconsistent, cock throbbing.

"Shh, I got you baby, gonna make you cum okay? Want you to let go."

Looking up into his eyes, it's hard to resist. Suddenly it's the first time you've met and you're awestruck by his beauty all over again, by the sharp planes of his face that you'd come to realize are soft underneath your touch.

You're kissing him again for the first time, and his lips are as plush and pillowy as they look, his hands big and wsrm as they hold your face steady against his mouth.

You realize you're in love with him for the first time again, staring into honey colored irises and listening to his velvet voice, aware that when he's gone it feels like a piece of you has been taken along with him.

Your body suddenly stills, save for your back arching and his body, sturdy and whole, there to anchor you while you forget you breathe. Your orgasm is all the more powerful this time, with him inside of you, and it's like once youre unraveling it doesn't stop.

He holds the back of your head and allows you to muffle your cries against his chest, fingers latching onto any part of him you reach first, as if you might fall of the face of the earth. He's still rubbing your clit, whispering sweet encouragements in your ear.

You don't pick up all of it, only vaguely aware of the tremor in his tone as he says your name.

And then he's locked against you, every muscle in his body rigid and hard as a strained, muffled whimper resonates from beside your head. He's biting into a pillow, as warmth fills you to the brim and he sloppily fucks it into you.

You're still reeling, when he kisses you like someone who hasn't seen their lover in years and is finally getting the chance to touch them again, to wordlessly express how enamored they are. Wholeheartedly, and irreversibly.

He says it first, which surprises you, considering in your dreams you're always the one professing it to him, stroking his skin or petting his hair and whispering it in between kisses.

But you're sure this is real, you can feel ache in your bones, the throb of your centers where they're still connected.

"I love you." His voice is even more beautiful when he's speaking in such a simple, yet profound way. There's a quiver, but not because he's not being honest. He'd swear on his life, for his conviction.

"I love you too." You reply, looping your fingers round the nape of his neck, toying with the soft hair there.

Maybe he shouldn't be so shocked, but he is. His face can't hide it, the quirk of his full lips, the furrow of disbelief in his brow. You want to kiss his stupid face a thousand time over.

"I love you." He repeats it, as if the words bring forth sunshine on a day shrouded by the darkness of rain clouds.

He repeats it again, when he's hovering over your lips, breath warm against your skin. He repeats it again when he's placing kisses to your forehead, when you giggle and stroke his cheek.

"And I love you, silly silly man." You remind him, willing him by the longing in your voice, to believe it as you believe him.

He repeats it again, when a tear cascades down your cheek like a diamond shaped declaration of your honesty, and he kisses it away, claiming it for himself.

You love him, and he loves you.

And maybe, no matter what happens, that'll be enough.

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