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sehnsuchts-trunken · 3 days

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What Happens in Cars, Stays in Cars

dbf!jake seresin x fem!reader 9k words

summary: After a month-long deployment, Jake is finally coming back home. Well, not home home. You're too desperate to wait until you've actually got him home. But who needs home when there's a perfectly good car anyway?

a/n: porn with plot. a lot of plot. and a lot of porn. 18+ obviously. reader is twenty-five in this, jake is forty-seven. as always, a list of things to watch out for:

nudes. mentions of masturbation. pet names used in an unholy way. the word 'brat' is dropped twice. safe sex (yess they still have a condom!!! i feel like i deserve a round of applause for not forgetting it). car sex, so a tiny smidge of exhibitionism. dom!jake. a lot of begging, as always. a tad bit dry humping. first finger sucking, then fingering. any more, uh....? i don't think so. there's not much space in a car for anything else.

top gun masterlist | dbf!jake seresin masterlist

(the gif has nothing at all to do with the fic, but tell me that's not dbf!jake working out in his backyard knowing you're watching him istg)

It's a one time thing. That's what they told him. A one time thing.

He isn't supposed to do these anymore. He's supposed to be stationed permanently, sitting in his office and doing what an admiral does. Important work, surely. It's a high honour and he's proud, of course. But office work... Office work has never really been his thing. And if they'd deployed him for this mission four months earlier, he would've been thrilled.

He's the best of the best. The navy knows. He knows. Which is why he's an admiral by now. And also why they want him coaching the new hotshots for a month, halfway across the country.

And, yes, he would've been thrilled - four months ago.

Four months ago, when you'd not yet moved back home. Four months ago, when he hadn't yet met you. Four months ago, when he hadn't known what it was like to hold you, to touch you, to miss you.

His phone chimes and momentarily distracts him. It's not that he didn't mute it - he's standing in front of a bunch of twenty-something year olds who he does try to be a role model for - it's just that you'd tampered with it once and ever since then, you've had a personalised ringtone that still somehow works even when everything else is muted. (He could totally turn that off if he wanted to, though. Definitely. Ab-so-lu-tely. He just... doesn't.)

His jaw clenches and he has to restart his sentence, but other than that, he manages to pretend nothing happened. Nonetheless, he has to glare at the snickering wannabe-pilots in the first row, who remind him very much of a young version of himself.

You're three hours ahead of him and probably just got off work. It's likely nothing but a sweet "having a good day?" message or maybe a photo of you all dressed up, ready for dinner with your friends like you'd planned.

Either way, knowing your message is sitting unopened in your chat has him talking quicker. He finishes his lecture half an hour early and fishes his phone from his pocket before the first of his pupils have even got up from their seats - which turns out to be a horrible, horrible idea, because the photo attached to "don't know how long i'll stay out, have a nice night, admiral" with the winky face emoji is not one of you all dressed up for a night out with your friends, but one of you in just a pair of panties in front of the mirror. The mirror in his bedroom.

Fucking god-

He seems to let out some kind of choked up groan or something of the sort, because a few of his pilots turn to look back at him. One even has the audacity to ask if he's alright, which he certainly isn't. But that's absolutely not their problem.

So he grumbles something about how they should all use their free time to go to the gym instead of bothering him before he collects his things and flees to his room. One of the many advantages of being an admiral, of course, is that he doesn't have to bunk anymore, which is always the greatest nuisance for anybody who's ever looking for privacy. The times he's had to listen to guys jack off a foot away from him- fuck, the times they'd had to listen to him.

No, right now he is incredibly thankful for the privacy of his bedroom as he locks the door behind him and opens his phone again. Goddamn, why were you in his house? His fingers hover over the call button for a few seconds, but then he decides against it - you're going out with friends for the first time in months, he doesn't want to bother you.

He's popping the button of his jeans and sitting down on his bed right as you come online.

"Like the pictures, baby? I've got more"

And before he can even respond, you've sent a bunch more selfies, half of them in front of his mirror, the other half on his bed and none of them decently clothed. Fucking hell, in one you've got your fingers down your panties and Jake is really thankful for the privacy of his room then because he groans so loudly that a bunkmate would definitely have heard.

"Are you still at dinner?", he asks, his fingers flying over his keyboard while he tugs at his zipper with his left hand.

"Yeah, won't be home soon", you write back. "Sorry"

"Don't be", Jake responds, as quickly as he can, because he definitely does not want to make you feel bad for spending time with your friends. "Have fun"

"Have fun with the pics", you send. Jake can picture your grin, sitting all dressed up in a restaurant and ignoring your friends to text him. "Thought those could maybe make up for no phone call tonight"

He swallows hard as you log off, leaving him with those pretty pictures of yours that certainly improve his night by a lot. Hell, he's already moving his briefs out of the way and clicking on your photos again. Just seeing you half-naked in his room - fuck, the thought of you sneaking over there only to do a goddamn photoshoot... You're really unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. And he can't wait to get back home to you.

...

"I miss you", you mumble into the phone, blinking at the alarm clock on your nightstand. It's eleven thirty, not nearly late enough for you to feel as exhausted as you do.

"I miss you too, darling", you hear Jake drawl on the other end of the call. "I'll be back soon."

"Not soon enough", you whine - god, you sound pathetic and miserable to your own ears already, you must sound ten times worse to him. You let yourself fall back into your pillows and let out a deep sigh. "Would it be rude to say I hope the mission gets cancelled?"

Jake chuckles. Fucking hell, you miss that chuckle so much. You miss him so much. You miss cuddling up to him under the covers and tucking your head under his chin. You miss running your fingers through his hair and having your hands on him. You miss seeing him, standing in the kitchen or working out or tinkering in the backyard or fresh out of the shower. Shit, you even miss sneaking around with him, because at least then you'd gotten to watch him from a distance, maybe steal a kiss when your parents hadn't been looking or spend an night at his house pretending to be at your friend's.

Now he's halfway across the country and absolutely, completely out of reach. You'd barely gotten to see him at all - twice it had worked out to video-call during a lunch break, once he'd even managed to virtually show you around his office after work. The camera quality is hardly any good, of course, which means video-calls aren't all that great, plus the connection never seems to really be stable, so with a few exceptions, you've only seen Jake in pictures over the past two and a half weeks.

His deployment would take another one and a half and then, finally, he'd be back home. Back home with you.

"I won't answer that", Jake says, and you can almost hear him grin. "But I wouldn't mind either if they moved the mission up."

You have to bite down on your lip to hide a smile.

"So you think you're good to go?", you ask softly, not wanting to bring the mood down further, instead opting for the non-classified work questions. You've already been bringing down the mood enough back here at home - you don't need to fill the few minutes a day you get with Jake with your whining as well. Your parents already hear enough of that. Of course, they don't know why you've been in such a bad mood ever since Jake left. And they can't know, either. You can't tell them. You can't tell anyone.

You can't tell anyone because no one knows that you've been sneaking around with your dad's best friend for the past three months. So you resign yourself to moping around and keeping out of everybody's way as much as you can. For one and a half weeks more, one and a half...

...

Exactly one and a half week later you're standing at the airport in your best heels and a little yellow sundress and are positively buzzing with nervous energy. Jake's plane got in at half, he'd said, when you'd last spoken him six hours earlier. Then the plane had taken off and so had his wifi.

You're playing around with a strand of your hair and doing your hardest not to start chewing off your nails, which proves more difficult than you'd thought (even though you'd put on nail polish).

You're just so excited.

It's been a month since you'd last seen him. A month. And at the early stage of your... relationship, if you could call it that, that's basically half a year. God, how long it's been since you've run your hands through his hair, since you've felt his arms around you.

You miss him so much.

Your phone chimes and you fish it out of your pocket with trembling hands, only to be disappointed when it's not a message from Jake. It's not like you'd told him to text when he'd landed, just... A part of you is kind of scared you're waiting in the wrong place. Maybe he's on the other end of the airport - it's not a particularly small one. It'd take you hours to find each other if you were waiting in the wrong place.

Then again - maybe the plane is late. Maybe he's had to wait for his luggage.

You check the time, just to be safe. It's 11:46. For all you know, Jake is still in the air. Or less than a door away.

You bounce on your feet, nervously shifting back and forth before checking your phone again. The text you'd gotten is from one of your friends, who you text back only to distract you. It barely works anyway. You can't put it away again quickly enough.

It's not even that you don't want to distract yourself. You just physically can't pay attention. You've been a nervous wreck for the past three days, ever since you'd made the plan to pick him up from the airport. Which is probably why you almost don't spot him.

Almost.

He walks through the opened doors with his suitcase rolling behind him, his backpack slung over his shoulder and at least five other people rushing past him.

He sees you before you see him.

But then, then when you see him-

You're already sprinting towards him before your mind even tells your legs to move. You can't control it and you can't be bothered to. Why would you?

You don't care about the people glancing at you with raised eyebrows. You only care about Jake, about Jake who's standing there, pulling his hand from the handle of his suitcase and grinning at you. Grinning at you as you run at him and throw yourself into his arms.

He catches you effortlessly and steadies you as you cross your hands behind his neck and press your lips to his.

God, how you've missed him! How long you haven't kissed him!

His palms flatten against your back and he holds you tight, so tightly to him. You push even closer. He's here. He's back.

You don't realise you're crying until you taste the tears.

That's when Jake pulls back.

"I've missed you", he mutters, raising a hand and brushing the tears off your cheeks. You lean into the touch and tighten your arms around his neck. You're really touching him. He's really here.

"I missed you too", you try to say, but you're choked up and crying and it somehow comes out a blubbering, stuttering mess that you're not quite sure Jake can even understand. "Missed you so much."

He smiles one of those gorgeous smiles that you haven't seen in far too long before he leans down and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. Your eyes flutter closed as you lean into him, your fingers trailing up the nape of his neck. His breath mingles with yours as he draws you in again and catches you in another kiss, tugging gently at your bottom lip as if he has all the time in the world to do it - slow and languid and real. Finally real again.

He pulls you in by your waist, his hands splayed wide and so, so big against your thin sundress. Your nails scratch against his neck and he lets out a groan and suddenly, he's got his hands on your thighs and you're wrapping your legs around his middle and tightening your arms around him and his lips are working against yours feverishly, heavily, messily. You're crossing your feet behind his back when one of them hits something hard. You've flinched away from him even before you can hear the dull crash of his suitcase kissing the airport floor.

There's blood rushing in your ears and you're sure if someone measured your heart rate right now, you'd be sent to the ER immediately. You probably look like a tomato with all the redness in your cheeks. But Jake stares at his suitcase silently for two seconds too, breathing heavily as his grip on you tightens further.

As much as he likes having you in his arms, his suitcase reminds him that you're still very much in the middle of a well-used airport. So he turns back to you and lowers his voice.

"I think we should get out of here, darling."

Your lips tug up into a grin and you lean in to give him just one last, quick kiss.

"Yeah", you breathe, carefully jumping back down onto your own feet. Jake lets go of you only reluctantly - if this wasn't a public airport, he'd never have let you go again. But it is, so he swallows hard as you brush your palms down your dress and blink up at him with a smile.

You're wearing heels. You're still shorter than him by quite a bit.

His amusement melts into a frown when you grab the handle of his suitcase.

"I've got that", he says, reaching his hand out to take the suitcase from you, but you're already maneuvering it away from him and starting to walk in the direction (you think it's the right direction) you'd parked your car in.

"I want to do it for you", you hum.

"Sweetheart, you're already doing enough for me", he says, and he really does mean it. You've driven all this way to come pick him up, you'd watered his plants while he'd been away, you'd even cleaned. That one mostly because you'd desperately needed something to do and Jake's house had always smelled like him, but still.

"Doing enough to you, you mean." Your grin borders on lewd as you dig your teeth into your lip.

"Yeah, that too", he sighs, but he has to grin as well. You're absolutely unbelievable. Instead of trying to argue (he knows it'd be fruitless anyway), he wraps an arm around your back and pulls you into his side, his hand resting on your waist again.

You glance at him.

"I'm not letting go of this suitcase", you warn, even as you lean into his side and swallow. God, he looks so good. And he smells so good. And he feels so good.

"Got it", he chuckles, brushing a kiss to your temple and pulling you even closer into him. He can't have you close enough. Does this fucking airport not have an end? He just needs a little more privacy, a little more space-

"This way", you say and point right. Jake smiles at you as you guide him down the halls. He can't help but watch, can't help but stare at you, at your dress in that soft shade of yellow and your matching heels. Autumn doesn't seem to have caught up with you yet. Then again - autumn hasn't caught up with this place yet. And he's used to Texas heat, he likes that it doesn't get cold here. Also, those sundresses... Yeah, he certainly isn't complaining about the weather.

You speed up when you finally catch sight of the doors, dragging him along with you, almost falling into a jog. The suitcase rumbles against the airport floor, the wheels click-clacking over uneven ridges and bumps and then, thank god, you feel the sunshine on your skin. His hand tightens around your waist.

"Home sweet home", you grin as you take the first step onto concrete. You swivel around and steady both palms against the handle of his suitcase behind your back, bouncing on your heels and looking up at him. "After about a three hour drive."

Jake chuckles and looks back at you with raised eyebrows.

"You'll drive?", he asks. You hum.

"Maybe", you grin as you turn away again and walk over to your car, parked only three rows away for whatever holy reason. You'd been incredibly lucky. And you'd almost run over a grandma. "Or maybe not."

Jake follows you with another low chuckle that sends a pleasant tingling sensation down your spine. It's been so long since you heard that chuckle behind you.

He's next to you again within a few long strides, reaching out for you and you slow your steps to intertwine your fingers with his.

His hands are so big. He's holding onto you so firmly. Fuck, you've missed him so much.

You squeeze his hand and walk a little quicker. Car, home. Car, home. That's it. Then you've got him all to yourself. You can see the car glinting in the sunlight already - and then it's three hours. Three hours next to him in an enclosed space before you've truly got him back.

You stop and let go of his suitcase to fish the car keys out of your pocket without dropping his hand. You push the unlock button and open up the trunk before you turn to Jake and grin at him.

You want to say something, really. It's on the tip of your tongue, still running through your mind, but you've completely forgotten it when you look up at him.

Because while you'd been dragging him to the car, he'd pulled his sunglasses out and put them on and for whatever reason... That kind of does it for you. Holy shit.

"Are those new?", you ask hoarsely and swallow hard, the car keys digging into your palm as you tighten your fist around them. Maybe it's just that you haven't seen him in a month. Or maybe it's the way the sunlight catches his hair, slightly longer than when he'd left. Maybe it's just that with the sun behind him, you've got no choice but to squint at his broad shoulders.

"The other pair broke", Jake explains, letting go of your hand only to wrap his arms around your waist. Fuck, you're just standing there, doing absolutely nothing and he already can't keep from touching you. He has to touch you. He's got to put his arms around you and pull you close. "Why? Don't like it?"

You steady your palms against his chest and let out a breath as your eyes drop to his lips - he's got that cheeky look on his face that's not really a grin but not really not a grin and that nobody but him can do.

"I do", you counter, because it's the truth, and there's no way you can lie to him. "I very much do."

"Very much?" Jake does grin then, raises his eyebrows and pulls you fully against him. "That's more than just a yes."

Your fingers fist his shirt, the car keys digging into his chest just as firmly as they're digging into your palm now. He doesn't seem to be too bothered. He really isn't too bothered.

"They look good on you", you mutter, pulling him even closer. It's been too long since you'd pulled him close... And he feels so good, smells so good, looks so good. Fuck, he's so big and broad and-

"Thanks", he mutters, his grin all cheeky and self-assured and god, is it really this hot? Do you just feel this hot? Because you feel really, really hot. Your skin is burning. How the hell are you supposed to manage a three hour car ride?

"Jake", you whimper, without even meaning to. It's barely above a breath, barely above a whisper, and still too much of a whine to sound anything close to appropriate. A sort of grunt leaves his lips before his arms tighten around you, before he slots his mouth over yours hard. His thumbs drag circles against the small of your back, catching on the fabric of your dress. Your fingertips dig into his shirt, into his chest.

The sun beams down on you, warming your thighs and your arms and every exposed inch of skin, brightness behind closed eyelids as you push further and further into him. He's so sturdy, all hard abs right in front of you, broad arms around you.

You don't even notice the breathless moan that escapes your tongue. You can only feel the heat boiling inside of you, the desperate heat inside of you crawling up your body, every inch of you burning. Burning with want for him. With need for him. Fuck, he's been gone for way too long.

And then he pulls back.

You need a few seconds to even blink yourself back to reality.

"Home?", he suggests, even though it's less of a suggestion and more just a fact. He's getting you home. Now.

"Please", you whine, already halfway through pulling back and dropping the car keys into his palm. Three hours. Three fucking hours, you... You simply won't manage to sit down behind the steering wheel with your skin crawling and your underwear soaked through.

You'll barely manage sitting in the passenger seat.

Jake presses another kiss against your temple before he grabs his suitcase and leaves you standing there, trying to pull yourself together. He's breathing hard and his muscles are tight, his jaw clenched as he heaves his suitcase into the trunk and drops his backpack into it right after.

You force your legs to work, to carry you to the passenger side, force your arm to raise and your hand to close around the handle. It's heavy and hard work. Your body feels leaden, entranced. You let yourself collapse onto the seat and close your eyes.

Fuck.

You'd forgotten how much... how easily...

"Seatbelt, darling", Jake reminds you as he climbs into the driver's seat and adjusts it. You swallow hard and strap yourself in, trying to even out your breathing and pull yourself back to reality while you fumble for the confirmative click.

"Three hours", you remind yourself breathily.

"Three hours", Jake agrees lowly and turns the key in the ignition.

You settle back in your seat and close your eyes, clenching and unclenching your jaw as the radio starts playing and the car rolls out of the parking lot. You just have to relax. Just relax. Relax.

So you breathe out deeply and open your eyes again. Jake glances over at you as you lean forward, flick through the radio channels and then adjust in your seat - it's touching too much, too little of your skin, and the way you're rubbing against it somehow doesn't help in the slightest.

Before you can tuck one of your legs under the other and press the heel of your foot against your core, Jake puts his hand against your thigh. Against your bare thigh. His big fucking hand against your bare thigh.

You bite down on your lip and look up at him.

God, he looks so good. His features are chiseled, his hair that sunny, beachy kind of blond-

"Stop that", Jake grunts, his eyes trained on the road in front of him. It takes you two seconds to even realise he's talking to you. You'd kind of lost yourself in staring at him there.

"Stop what?", you ask, voice hitching as his fingers tighten on your thigh. Damn it, he needs to stop that. He's hardly been driving five minutes, he can't already be teasing you.

For once, actually, he doesn't even mean to tease you - not that you know. He just can't help but touch you, not when he hasn't touched you in a month, not when you're sitting so deliciously, tauntingly next to him.

"Stop looking at me like that", he says, taking his hand off of you to change gears before grabbing even tighter onto you again. "Or I'll have to pull over."

You brush your fingers along his wrist. Your chest feels tight, so tight. It takes everything in you not to push his hand further up your thigh. And you'd actually thought you'd manage a three hour car ride.

"I'll stop", you breathe, even though pulling over doesn't seem like the worst idea. "If you want me to."

A muscle twitches in his jaw.

"Don't do that", he warns, his voice staggering into that indecent gruff of his that has you clenching your thighs together, trapping his fingertips between your legs.

"Don't do what?", you ask, trying your best to sound somewhat innocent while you continue this little taunting game, not as though you're deliberately riling him up. You aren't, really. It's more just a reflex.

He turns his head to you then. His eyes are narrowed and his jaw is clenched and honestly, the way he's meeting your gaze all serious, as though he's trying to reprimand you just by looking at you - for no more than five seconds, of course, before he drags his eyes back to the road - has your lips tugging up in a teasing grin.

"Jake", you whisper, drawing your nails slowly up his arm, all the way from his wrist to his elbow. "Baby. You've been away for so long. You know how lonely I've been, right?"

Jake glances at you again and grunts his agreement, eyebrows raising as he starts to realise what you're doing.

"You can't blame me for looking at you", you go on, digging your fingertips into a spot right above his elbow and drawing one, two circles there. "Or for touching you."

Then you shift in your seat, spread your legs a little and run your fingers down his arm again. You grab his hand and brush his fingertips against the soaked spot on your panties.

"Or for being this wet", you whisper, your breath hitching from the sting in your stomach. He lets out a low curse. "I've just missed you so much."

He sucks in a breath then and trails his fingertips up your panties once, just once, before he jerks his hand back and clenches it hard around the steering wheel, so hard that his knuckles turn wide. Fuck. Fuck! Fuck! You're driving him crazy. You're driving him fucking crazy.

He's supposed to be responsible here. Somewhat responsible. You're young, you've got that risky twinkle in your eyes that he knows so well because he'd seen it in the mirror himself for over twenty years. He knows the thrilling buzz that's running through your veins. He still feels it whenever he's in the air. And he feels it around you.

Which is why he's not responsible, not when it comes to you. Not when you're sitting next to him in that pretty dress, with no shorts on and completely fucking soaked through.

You grin to yourself as he pulls off the highway and bite down on your lip, shifting in your seat once more, fighting the urge to trail your own fingers into your panties.

You haven't even asked how his deployment had been.

But goddamn, you'll have enough time to do that once you've got home. Or got off. Or got him off. At this point, you don't fucking care.

He pulls into one of those parking lots that mainly trucks use, one of those where there's hardly ever a toilet and if, then one that hasn't been usable since the last century. Right now, there's two trucks right at the front that Jake just brushes past. He parks your car at the far end and turns the motor off.

The silence is heavy.

Your breath comes much too quickly. Your eyes are fixed on him. And every inch of your skin is crawling with heat. But you don't move. You can't move.

He rolls his seat all the way back.

"Jake-", you whisper, catching on his name when he looks up and meets your eyes. There's a ghost of a grin on his lips, but... Maybe you're wrong.

"Yes, darling?", he asks, raising his eyebrows and leaning back in his seat. You have to strain your neck to keep looking at him. Instead of an answer, you just softly shake your head. You're suddenly unsure of what to say. His eyes weigh you down. You're painfully aware of every inch of your skin under his watchful gaze.

"Come on", he drawls, the grin that's growing on his lips more obvious now. "You were all eager to talk just then, baby."

Your teeth catch on your lip as you let out a breathless sigh. Your fingers hover over the buckle of your seat belt. Can you? Or...

"I missed you", you whisper, letting your fingertips glide over the hard plastic. "Can I-"

You swallow.

"Can you what, darling?", he repeats, grinning widely now.

You chew on your lip as you push down and unbuckle yourself slowly, your eyes still trained on Jake, who simply watches you with raised eyebrows.

"Can I touch you?", you whisper, your breath disappearing into the thick air of the car, the seatbelt still caught between your fingers. The corners of his mouth only tug up further.

You look angelic with your wide eyes and rosy cheeks, so obviously desperate to feel him - but still you don't move. You sit there and wait for him to tell you what to do. To allow you to do something. Anything. It's almost endearing how well behaved you are in moments like this.

"Go on, darling", he drawls. "Come here."

Without hesitation, you reach over the centre console and grab onto his shoulders, steadying yourself against him as you throw one of your legs over his and climb into his lap. His hands find your waist, grab onto your sides, hold you softly against him. Your teeth dig into your lip as you sink down, your fingers trailing along the outline of his collarbones over his shirt, your dress riding up and pooling around your hips. You suck in a breath when your panties drag against his jeans.

Fuck. It's been so long. It's been way too long.

"Jake", you mutter as you lean in, pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth, brushing your nose against his cheek. "You look good."

He lets out a breathy chuckle, his grip on you tightening.

"I know, darling", he can't help but say with a grin. "Thanks."

You giggle onto his skin as you trail your lips down his jaw. Sometimes he's incredibly unbelievable. I know. How cocky. Not that he shouldn't be - goddamn, he should be! You can't even fault him. And confidence is sexy. Especially on him. Though, then again, anything on him is sexy.

"I've missed you", you mutter, pressing another open-mouthed kiss against his skin, this time against the spot between his neck and his ear. "Missed looking at you. Missed touching you."

"Yeah", Jake breathes, digging his hands into your hips and pulling you harder onto him. "I've missed you too."

He's missed you so fucking much that he's hurting, straining against his jeans so hard that he feels like he might combust. And you're kissing down his throat, pressing your lips against his skin, wanting, needing to touch him, to feel him-

A month away from each other. A month too long.

"I need you, Jake", you whimper into his ear, all breathy and desperate, rocking softly back and forth in his lap and letting your eyes fall shut.

"You need me, baby?", he echoes, grabbing you as tightly as he can and dragging you against him, his head thumping back against the driver's seat.

A filthy moan slips past your lips as your hips roll against his, finally, for the first time in weeks. Fuck, yes, you need him so badly. You need him now. Here and now, in the passenger seat of your car.

"Please, Jake", you breathe, steadying one palm against his chest and grabbing one of his hands with the other. You wrap your fingers around his wrist and tug it off of you, but before you can drag it down to your panties again, drop it between your legs and beg him to fuck you, before you can do any of that, he's turning your grip around and taking your hands in his instead.

"You're getting ahead of yourself, baby", he chuckles, before settling your hands against your thighs. He's painfully hard by now, yes- But that doesn't mean you can just drag him to where you want him. "Seems like you forgot your manners."

You're already shaking your head before he can finish. No, you haven't, you haven't, you just need him so badly... and you can feel him, you can feel that he needs you too, so why doesn't he just take you? Why doesn't he-

"I haven't, Jake, I promise", you whisper, looking at him and forcing yourself to still on his lap. It won't help you if you move. It definitely won't help you if you move.

"You haven't?", he asks with raised eyebrows, looking all but amused at you. You keep shaking your head no, no, no. "So if I'd told you to stay in your seat and wait, you would've?"

You bite down on the inside of your cheek and look away. He's grinning. He knows. He's not even really asking. But if you'd learnt anything, anything at all about him, it's that he doesn't like to be ignored. If he asks a question, he wants it answered. So you'll answer.

"No", you breathe truthfully, because you most definitely wouldn't have managed a three hour car ride next to him. There's no way you would've managed a three hour car ride next to him. No fucking way.

His grin widens.

"No", he repeats lowly. "No, darling? You wouldn't have listened?"

"Couldn't", you correct, fighting the desire to rock against his thighs that's growing with every passing second. He looks so fucking good. He smells so fucking good. He feels so fucking good. And he'd fuck you so good, you know that, if he'd just finally get to it.

"Couldn't", he echoes, his fingertips rubbing circles onto the bare skin of your thighs. "That desperate."

It's just that he's that desperate, too. Desperate to feel you wrapped around him, desperate to hear you whimper and moan. He needs you as much as you need him.

"You want me to fuck you, baby?", he asks, all smooth and casual and your fingers dig into your thighs to feel something, anything. It's unbelievable how easily something so dirty slips off his lips.

"Yes", you gasp. "Want you so bad, Jake. Please. I'll be so good for you. I'll be perfect."

A muscle ticks in his jaw.

"You are perfect", he breathes, even though that hadn't been his plan at all. But he has to say it. He has to tell you. You've got him wrapped around your little finger, even if you don't know. And he's not all that sure you don't know anyway.

Your teeth catch on your lip, your hands dig harder into your skin and-

And Jake's thumbs trail along the inside of your bare thighs, brushing up naked skin, drawing a shallow breath from your tongue. A shiver runs down your spine as you clench your legs around his and force yourself to keep still. He's touching you. You have to remind yourself of that. He is touching you. There's no reason at all for the urge to defy him, to pop open his jeans and just sink down on him. He's touching you, he's touching you...

Yeah. Barely.

"Let me feel you", you beg, drawing your hands away from your thighs and trying to put them against his chest - but before you can, he's pulled his hands away from your thighs as well and grabbed your wrists. Again.

"You're not in charge here, darling", he chuckles, pushing your hands back down. He grabs for your waist again. "If you can't behave, I'm gonna put you back in the passenger seat and keep on driving, got that?"

You nod.

You want to be good for him. You will be good for him. God, there's no fucking way you could have managed the car ride already, and if you had to sit through it now, after this- No. You'll be good for him. You'll be so good for him.

He flashes you a grin and goes back to dragging his thumbs along your thighs.

"Ask nicely", he says. "Maybe I'll-"

"Please", you blurt out, your hips involuntarily bucking into his touch. "Can I kiss you?"

His eyes drop down to your mouth then.

"Yeah, baby", he mutters, his thumbs catching on the hem of your dress. "You can kiss me."

He expects you to jump at him, to slot your lips over his and lick into his mouth eagerly - but you only steady your palms carefully against his chest and lean in, your eyes focused on his, your breath meeting his skin. You kiss him softly, lightly, with your lips just so grazing his and your eyes fluttering shut. His fingertips run down the soaked spot on your panties.

That's when your teeth catch on his lip. You sink them into his skin gently and tug, your heart missing a beat as he groans into you. He hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls them to the side just like you'd hoped, just like you'd begged for.

Jake's right - you're not in charge. But that doesn't mean you don't know what buttons to push to get what you want.

His fingertips trail through your wetness for the first time in a whole fucking month. It's long overdue. So long.

You moan into him, pressing your chest right up against his and fisting his shirt, and push closer. You need to be this close. You need to be even closer. You need him to fuck you, now, not only to drag his fingers up to your clit.

But he's too focused on you, getting too drunk on the feeling of you. He's finally got you here again, finally on his lap again, finally kissing him again, finally eager for him again. He's finally touching you again. And he has to touch you.

You're so fucking wet. You're soaked. He wants to take his time to notice that. He needs to take his time to notice that. He needs to touch you, to feel you. He doesn't even mean to tease you. He doesn't even realise he is teasing you. Not until you rock into his hand and let a whine slip into his mouth.

You really don't intend to. It's an accident. You don't want to rush him. What you want is to be good for him. But you can't help yourself.

And he knows you can't.

Which is the only reason he doesn't pull back and leave you high and dry. Well, that - and his desperation to have you.

So instead, he pushes two fingers into you and catches the languid moan you let out. Fuck. You sound so sweet. You feel so perfect. It's been so fucking long.

"Jake", you whimper, just because it's also been that fucking long since you've whined his name into his mouth. Into the low-quality mic of your phone, yes. But with his lips on yours? With his fingers thrusting inside you so precisely, hitting the right spot immediately? No, that's been too fucking long.

It's dirty. Not quick, like the other times neither of you had been patient enough to look for a better spot to have each other and had opted for the car instead. No, it's just dirty, with his fingers pumping in and out of you, his tongue running along yours and your knees rubbing against the seat.

Maybe it's because the radio had turned off alongside the car, or maybe it's just the long month you'd spent apart - either way, all sounds are louder than they should be, your ears ringing with your moans, your wetness around his fingers and his lips against yours.

Goddamn.

He's working magic. You don't know how he hits the right spot again and again and again, his fingers curling, his thumb catching on your clit - but he has you clenching around him, warmth pooling in your core, wetness dripping down your thighs and onto his jeans within minutes.

You pull an inch away from him, your eyes still squeezed shut, your palms flattening against his shirt, and the only reason he knows he isn't just dreaming of you again is because you're warm and wet around his fingers. Everything else about you is unreal.

You're gorgeous. You're so damn stunning, rocking your hips back against him and moaning his name, your lips parted and your skin sweaty.

"Fuck", you pant, your chest rising and falling so tantalisingly that his eyes drop right down to your cleavage. "Just like that."

He has to grin to himself, but he lets it slide, if only because you're looking so pretty holding onto him as he pushes his fingers into you and circles your clit - just like that. Again and again, until you're digging your nails into his chest and catching your lip between your teeth and moaning his name, Jake, baby, fuck, fuck, fuck, until you're clenching around him and shuddering in his arms, until you're reaching your high on his fingers, not on your own for the first time in four full weeks.

"Attagirl", he mutters, straining so hard against his pants that it hurts. "I've got you."

You press your lips against his jaw sloppily as you come down, your breath shallow, your skin burning, just needing to get your mouth on him. You can feel your heart beating, every thud, thud, thud against your chest. God. You hadn't come like that in a month. You'd come, sure, to the low rumble of his voice over the phone, calling you all sorts of sweet names and telling you just how to get off for him. But nothing could ever possibly beat the way he works you.

And still - even as you come down from your orgasm, you already crave the next, long and lust and hunger for him inside of you, not his fingers, but his cock.

"Jake", you mewl, slotting your lips over his and desperately dragging your tongue over them before you draw back an inch, your breath meeting his. "Fuck me? Please?"

He pulls his fingers out of you and raises his hand and before you can even really realise what you're doing, you're parting your lips and watching as he grins and presses his fingertips down on your tongue. God, he fucking tastes like you. You suck his fingers into your mouth obediently and lick them clean, looking at him out of lowered, half-lidded eyes and he fucking grabs at your waist with his other hand like his life depends on it.

Goddamn, it's been too long since he's watched this. Since he's had this sight in front of him. And holy mother of hell, what a sight that is.

Your cheeks hollowed out, your gaze caught on his, your lips wrapped around his fingers. His jeans are too tight. Too fucking tight. He needs relief. Now.

So he pulls his fingers out of your mouth with a low grunt and fumbles with the button of his jeans, quick and hurried. He's barely popped it open before your hands slip between his and push them out of the way. You drag down his zipper, reach into his briefs, finally, finally, finally! and he lets you, steadying his palms against your thighs and watching you tug your lip between your teeth.

"Condom", you breathe, then you glance up at him and blink - once, twice, thrice to get yourself back to reality. Condom. Condom, fuck, you're sure you've got one, you know you've got one, somewhere-

Jake takes his hand off your thigh and reaches for his pocket, pulling out a condom before you've even finished thinking.

You grab it from him almost reflexively, your fingers closing around it, tearing it open - quick and frenzied now, because you're not sure how much longer you can hold out. How much longer you can manage without having him.

You glance up at him before you roll it onto him, waiting, checking, if you can, if he'll let you- And how could he not? Fuck, he's got to clench his jaw and grab onto your waist just to hold back, to stay still. He hadn't meant for it to be like this. He'd meant to fuck you back at home, slow and steady, preferably in bed where he could really see you, where he could see every inch of you, not in the front seat of your car that he'd probably have to get cleaned tomorrow. But he can't fucking help himself. He can barely fucking wait until you've rolled the condom onto him, already grabbing at your bare thighs, slipping his hands below your dress, grasping at your stomach.

You steady your palms against his chest and breathe out a whine as his fingers slide across your boobs, pushing the fabric of your dress up, up, up, circling your nipples, hardened and sensitive and damn, you've missed him. You've missed him so fucking much. It's been so fucking long. And you're so fucking desperate.

So you slowly sink down on him and let out a moan, rolling off your tongue so filthily he has to groan. Shit, shit- You hold yourself against him, drop your head against his shoulder and an open-mouthed kiss onto his skin.

"Fuck", he grunts, his fingers working frenzied circles onto your boobs, trying, desperately, no, needing to touch you, to feel you. God, you feel so good around him. Finally around him again. You take your time sinking down on him, catching your breath and pressing your lips against his neck, your eyes squeezed shut. Inch by inch, you take him - and the only way he can keep from bucking up into you is by trying not to concentrate on the way you feel around him (so, so fucking perfect), but instead do his best to breathe. Just... breathe. It's been too fucking long. And you're too fucking pretty. And he'll go fucking crazy.

"Jake", you mewl, your lips dragging against his jaw.

Instead of an answer, he turns his head and catches you in a kiss.

You whine into his mouth, your legs clamping around his, stilling as you adjust, your tongue running along his lips, his teeth, your hands fisting his shirt, clenching and cramping and pressing against his chest.

"Go on", he urges, pulling away no more than an inch, his breath shallow, mingling with yours. "Take what you want, darling."

"Fuck", you breathe, arching into his palms and steadying yourself against him, your teeth catching on your lip as you move - up, slowly, steadily, then down, faster, quicker, and again, and again. Holy hell. Moan after moan rolls off your tongue. He feels so fucking good. You're so fucking full of him. You find a rhythm, then that spot inside of you. Your head tilts back, your fingers clench into the collar of his shirt, your nails scratch against his skin.

He watches you, every inch of him tensing. You're gorgeous, so damn gorgeous, bouncing in his lap like this. You're stunning, your dress pooling around your hips as he drags his hands back down to your waist, thumbing at your stomach, circling and drawing against your skin. He's touching you. Now, here. It's not just a dream. It's not just his imagination. It's you, you, wrapped around him, moving up and down him, your palms against his chest, your eyes fluttered shut, your teeth digging into your lip.

"Just like that, keep going", he encourages, all low and deep, smooths his hands down your body and can't help but grin as you let out a soft mewl. It's been so long since he's heard you whine for him - so long since he's heard it without hundreds and hundres of miles between you, without the microphone ruining what have to be the sweetest sounds he's ever known. "Feeling good, baby?"

The air is heavy, heavy and sticky. It presses down on you, pushes against your skin, settles on your body and flattens your breath. Every single one of your nerve ends is on fire.

"Yes", you gasp, your eyes fluttering open to take him in, him in all of his very, very real glory right in front of you. He looks so handsome, so fucking handsome. Your thighs tighten, clench. You can feel yourself growing closer and closer and closer with every stroke, with every time you sink down on him. Fuck, he doesn't just feel good, he feels heavenly. He feels like everything you need. "So good, Jake."

The grin on his lips sends sparks through your body. It's confident, self-assured... Yeah, you're on top of him, you're moving, you're taking what you want - but he's in charge, you can see it in his eyes. He's in control. It's in the way he breathes, in the way his hands grab at your hips, in the way he palms at your skin. If it weren't for the red on his cheeks, for the sweat beading on his forehead, you wouldn't even have guessed he's all that affected. But he's hard, he's hard as a rock, and it's taking everything in him not to just buck up into you and come right on the spot.

He prides himself on his stamina. In all his years, he's always prided himself on his stamina - on how he can keep going long enough to make you come twice, thrice. And he'll hold out now, too.

But you're gorgeous. And you feel perfect. And you're close, you're clenching around him as you lean in to press your lips to his, to slot your mouths together and kiss him with all your might.

So you're not making it easy for him. Not at all.

He brushes his hand down to the inside of your thigh, leaves a trail of tingles on your skin before his finger finds your clit. You breathe out a whine that he easily catches on his tongue, your nails digging into his chest as he draws circles on your clit, on that sensitive bundle of nerves that has you melting, your eyes squeezing, squeezing, squeezing shut.

Fuck, fuck, you're close, you're close-

Just for a fleeting second, Jake debates pulling his hand away again and leaving you there, on this edge you're teetering on. Not forever, only until you'd got home or so. But he's too desperate to come, too wound up already, too close himself, and there's a much bigger part of him that wants to just fill you up in the driver's seat of your car, in this random parking lot, a month after he'd last had you. The part of him that will revel in knowing that you'll be sitting in the passenger seat for the next three hours with soaked panties, probably leaving behind a wet patch when you'll get out, the evidence of two orgasms right there-

"Fuck, Jake", you gasp and your head rolls back, your lips parting as your entire body clenches, every single muscle cramping and tightening at once, your nails digging hard and harder into his skin, your eyes squeezing shut. His finger on your clit doesn't still, just keeps drawing circles, keeps guiding you through your high, through the foggy haze you're swimming in as your body writhes and tingles.

Jake is too entranced, too enamoured, too captivated by you to even realise he's spilling inside the condom, coming as you do. He can't feel, can't see, can't touch anything but you - his hand grabs at your hip, it palms at your thigh. Anything to feel you. Anything to be with you as you unravel.

"Jake, fuck", you breathe, a lot more softly now. Your grip on him loosens. He'd barely noticed how your nails had still been digging into his chest, but now that you're pulling them away, stretching your fingers and steadying your palms flat against him, he can't help but miss them. You blink at him with the sweetest smile, your lips plush and kiss-swollen, and the view of you is so disarming that he can just so resist opening his mouth and letting those final three words roll off his tongue. But it's too early, it's way too early, even as you're sitting in his lap, even as you're squeezing his cock, even as he draws his finger away from your clit. He's never been the type to say it early. He won't now.

No, instead he raises his hand and rests his fingers against your lips. Once more today, you part them obediently and wait until he's pushed them onto your tongue. Then you close your mouth around them - he still tastes of you faintly - and suck, slathering them in saliva in that sloppy, messy, dirty way you know he likes, your head bobbing as you clean them off. You pull back just far enough to dig your teeth into his fingertips and bite down on them playfully.

Your lips tug into a grin as he draws his hand back, eyebrows raising, his gaze settling on you - still so very heavy, so intense, so fucking full of sex.

"You're a brat, darling", he chides, but he's already brushing strands of hair out of your face, tucking them behind your ears and then wrapping his arms around you to pull you even closer, even tighter to him. Your grin only grows as your fingers clench into the collar of his shirt.

"Maybe", you laugh breathily, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips, one that's so addicting he thinks he might need to stay in this car, in this parking lot for the rest of eternity. "But you love it."

Jake chuckles as he chases after your lips.

"Such a brat."

#x reader #dbf!jake seresin #dbf!jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #dbf!jake seresin smut #jake seresin smut #jake hangman seresin #top gun #top gun x reader #hangman x reader

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ellecdc · 7 hours

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mother!!!! that recent poly!marauders + lily fic had me WEAK. if you please, could you write a part two where shy!reader finds out remus is a werewolf? I could see rem really not wanting her to find out bc he doesn’t want to scare her, but maybe severus(or somebody) spills the beans thinking she already knew, or she overheard a conversation between the boys. she’d be accepting of course, but remus freaks out when she finds out. just a lot of comfort and reassurance.

hope that gives you some inspiration, also, totally don’t have to write it if you don’t want to, of course!!! ilysm 🖤💚

I took this in a bit of a different direction but the ending's just the same! thanks so much sweets <3 <3

4.6k words

poly!marauders + lily x shy!reader who learns about Remus' furry little problem

CW: miscommunication trope, insecurities, angst [with a happy ending], reader is feeling incredibly insecure in this fic, James cries, Sirius cries a little bit too but they all pretend not to notice for his sake

You felt terribly foolish; no, you felt worse. You felt absolutely humiliated and you had no one to blame but yourself.

And now that you were here - ‘here’ being rushing to the dungeons to lock yourself in the Hufflepuff dormitories for the next foreseeable future - you aren’t sure how you had convinced yourself that this was going to end any other way.

It was a pipedream at best, thinking you had any place amongst the infamous Marauders and the princess of Gryffindor, and it was delusional at worst.

Of course they’d grow weary of you, of course they’d find your nerves and anxiety tiresome, of course they’d wind up bored of accommodating you when they were all so much more than you.

What had you been thinking? How did you manage to allow yourself to believe that this was anything but a phase for them - they saw you as a challenge, they beat the challenge, and now they were through with you.

You thought that the sweet looks, the kisses, the affection, the effort all meant more than it obviously did.

At least to them.

To you, it meant the world.

To them, it was a chore.

You were a chore.

Foolish girl.

You had been on your way to the library to meet up with the boys and Lily to study for the upcoming Herbology test. It was the first real group ‘date’ after the sketchiness that usually followed Remus about once a month that no one else seemed inclined to comment on, so neither did you.

Except…except, this time, some lingering tension seemed to follow the bout of sketchiness.

And still, no one seemed particularly inclined to comment on it.

And you couldn’t help but feel like you were out of the loop somehow, but you chalked that up to being a newer addition to the dynamic, and not living with them in Gryffindor tower.

That is until you happened to be walking out of their view behind the stacks of books that their table was situated by when you overheard their conversation.

“You’re going to have to say something to her, Rem. This is getting out of hand.” You heard Lily say solemnly, earning her a pained groan from Remus’ lips, causing you to pause behind the stacks so as to not interrupt their conversation.

“Can’t we just ignore this? Just for a little longer?” Remus bargained. “I mean, it can’t be that bad?”

“It’s worse, Moons.” Sirius corrected.

“Y/N’s so sensitive though.” James added. “I mean, how would that conversation even go? How do you tell her something like that?”

“It has to come from Remus.” Lily stated matter-of-factly.

Remus let out a long-suffering sigh. “And how do you suggest I go about this?”

“Listen.” Sirius asserted. “I don’t bloody care how we tell her, but we have to say something. I cannot keep living like this; it’s exhausting.”

Lily made a tsking sound and placed a consoling hand on Sirius’ shoulder as Remus let out another sigh.

“I know, I know; I’m sorry you guys. I thought we could ignore it but…I don’t think we can anymore.”

Lily, Sirius, and James all made a hum of acknowledgement.

“I think we ought to just rip the bandaid off and hope she understands.” Lily said.

You felt your stomach migrate to your throat as you turned on your heels and fled the library.

Is that what all the tension was about? Is that what this library study date was? Just a ruse to sit you down so they could break up with you?

Of course it was, idiot. You scolded yourself. They were foolish to entertain the likes of you for any amount of time.

So now you were here - ‘here’ being rushing to the dungeons to lock yourself in the Hufflepuff dormitories for the next foreseeable future - and you aren’t sure how you had convinced yourself that this was going to end any other way.

“Do you think I should do it tonight?” Remus asked Lily as she finally sat down.

“I think it would be best if we did, sweetheart. I just can’t help feeling like we’re keeping her at arms length by keeping it a secret, you know?”

“I agree.” Sirius said quickly. “It feels like she’s more of a guest than actually part of the relationship whilst we’re keeping something so big from her.”

“I just don’t want her to hate me.” Remus admitted in a whisper.

“Remmy.” James cooed from the other side of Sirius. “Our sweet little Puffle seems completely incapable of hatred. But you know we’ve got your back 110% if she’s not accepting of you, right?”

The other two nodded in agreement but Remus only grimaced. “It just feels like I’d be ruining the relationship for all of you if the only person she has a problem with is me.”

“Impossible.” Sirius replied emphatically. “Anyone who has a problem with you has a problem with us, Moons.”

“Even if we weren’t dating, Rem, if someone didn’t respect my friend - or anyone, for that matter - because of their lycanthropy, I wouldn’t want them around anyways.” Lily agreed.

“I don’t think we’ll have a problem, though.” Sirius continued. “Like Prongs said, she’s our sweet girl; I’m sure she’ll handle this fine.”

“Where is she, anyway?” James said, flipping his wrist to check his watch. “She was supposed to meet us like twenty minutes ago.”

The other three shared a look of bemusement.

“Do you have the map?” Sirius asked.

James quickly pulled the map from his book bag to scan the parchment for your name. “It says she’s in the Hufflepuff common room?”

“Maybe she forgot?” Lily mused.

“I spoke to her at dinner; she said she was going to change out of her uniform and then meet us here.” Remus replied, feeling his heart rise to his throat with nerves.

What if she knew? What if she already found out? What if she hated him?

“Rem, it’s alright.” Lily placated, clearly seeing his concern etched onto his face. “Maybe she wasn’t feeling well, or got caught up with something else.”

“She’s never bailed on us before…” James admitted, looking just as worried as Remus was. “Maybe we should check on her?”

“Why don’t we give her tonight; I think after all the shite we put her through this week, she’s allotted one missed date.” Sirius decided, opting to keep his tone light as he teased Remus for his ‘pre-moon angstiness’ as his partners call it.

“We’ll catch up with her tomorrow.” Lily decided; and Remus and James shared a look of concern as they relented to study for the upcoming Herbology test without you.

You weren’t really mad at the Gryffindor’s for their decision to end things with you; at least not at first.

People were allowed to change their minds, and you supposed that was the purpose of dating, right? To see if the person you’re interested in is someone you want to keep around indefinitely?

So, people were allowed to change their mind, and that was okay.

You also couldn’t particularly blame them; you were shy, quiet, timid, awkward in most social settings and certainly not as adventurous as them, it was only a matter of time before they grew bored of you.

So you hadn’t been mad at them, not at first.

But you were growing increasingly annoyed at their attempts to force themselves within your space.

You had opted to sit at the Hufflepuff table for breakfast the next morning; there was no sense sitting at the Gryffindor table with them anymore.

But then you couldn’t handle the feeling of your heart splintering every time you heard Sirius’ bark of laughter or Lily’s giggle at something Remus said or that James did. So you quickly scarfed down your toast and grabbed a muffin to shove in your bag before fleeing from the Great Hall.

What you didn’t notice was James noticing you only as you were leaving, looking incredibly worried.

You nearly shrieked when you exited your Astronomy class that you had with the Ravenclaws and slammed into Sirius’ frame.

“There you are, dolly! We missed you this morning!” He proclaimed as he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

You quickly collected yourself; heart racing from the scare and then quickly migrating to your throat out of embarrassment and hurt at this familiarity you had with him only to be about to lose it.

“Sorry, I had been running late.” You said quickly as you headed for the stairs; the long-haired boy quickly keeping up with your steps.

“Were you feeling alright?” He asked you.

“How do you mean?”

Sirius tilted his head slightly as he considered you. “Well, you didn’t show up to the library last night, and then you were running late this morning; that’s not like you.”

A hot frustrated emotion burned in your chest that you weren’t completely accustomed to feeling.

Wasn’t he the one to say he couldn’t live like this anymore?

It wasn’t fair of you to be frustrated though, which frustrated you even more; he didn’t know that you had shown up to the library last night, nor that you had gotten to the Great Hall on time.

They hadn’t even noticed you this morning.

And that’s why they were ending things; you were forgettable, ignorable, unnoticeable.

“I’m fine, Sirius. Thank you.” You said simply, and quickly headed for the girl’s loo in order to shake him off.

Remus had approached you in Care of Magical Creatures as well, which somehow hurt more.

Perhaps it was because you knew he was going to be the one to tell you that things were over; though you had thought he’d be better than to break up with you in the middle of class.

“Hey, dove.” He said as he gently nudged your arm with his elbow; watching as you groomed the puffskein on your table.

“Hey, Remus.” You said quietly, not removing your eyes from the Beast you were working with.

“I missed you last night.” He admitted quietly.

Did you? You thought petulantly.

“Sorry.” You murmured instead.

“You don’t have to be sorry.” He said as he leaned his elbows on your workbench; if it had been any other student, you’re certain Professor O’Brien would have scolded him for not handling the beasts with adequate caution, but Remus seemed to be allowed certain privileges and the puffskein “Kujo” didn’t seem to mind him much. “I just missed you is all.”

And he was smiling that sweet, soft smile at you and he seemed like he actually meant it which only further contributed to your ire.

What happened to ripping the bandaid off? Why keep up this affectionate act if it was only going to end?

Remus looked like he was going to say something when the Professor announced the end of class.

“I’ll catch up with you later.” You offered quickly before you all but threw Kujo back into his pen and took off towards the castle.

The final straw had to be Herbology, though.

You shared Herbology with the Gryffindors, and because you were a new addition - your [the] four Gryffindor’s all shared a potting bench whilst you worked alongside another Hufflepuff.

Today, however, it appeared that James had other plans.

Before Sadie-Jane could take her seat beside you, James had plopped himself - rather carefully for the notoriously boisterous quidditch chaser, mind you - on the stool beside you.

“Hey, angel.”

Again, with the pet names.

It felt torturous at this point; part of you wanted to rip the bandaid off yourself.

But you looked over at the sweet, warm, inviting face of James Potter and any resolve to tell him to shove it completely dissipated. He was all messy curls, round frames, and warm eyes.

And you might have been [must have been] mistaken, but you felt you could see anxiety and worry painted in his features.

You supposed breaking up with someone could do that to a person, though.

“Hi Jamie.” You whispered back as you opted to ready your supplies for today’s lesson.

“I was wondering if you were going to come to the game tonight?” He blurted then, looking slightly embarrassed at his outburst.

Right…the game. The game against Slytherin. The game that would have you sitting between Remus and Lily as they cheered for James and Sirius. That game.

“I...uhm, well…”

Rip the bandaid off.

But it was James.

And you were in class.

And you could see Lily and Remus trying - and failing - to not look like they were watching you and James whilst Sirius had no such qualms and was actively staring at the two of you.

“Yeah, I’ll…I’ll see.” You offered James, mustering up what you hoped was a convincing enough smile.

You could tell by the divot that appeared in James’ brows that you were not convincing in the slightest.

Thankfully Professor Sprout appeared then, instructing everyone to take their seats for class to begin, and Sadie-Jane came to claim her seat from the Gryffindor.

You didn’t go to the game that night.

Gryffindor lost.

And though you didn’t know at the time, James cried, but it wasn’t about losing to Slytherin.

“So, why are you hiding in the dorms?” Caroline asked as she rolled away from her open magazine on her bed, clearly preferring potential drama you could offer her than whatever was in this week's Witch Weekly.

“I’m not hiding.” You muttered back, not looking up from your cross-stitch you were working on instead of, you know, dealing with your problems.

“Right.” Caroline agreed, not sounding like she agreed with you at all. “That’s why you’ve started and quit several hobbies over the weekend and have been going to the kitchen’s to grab food instead of eating in the Great Hall like a normal person.”

You looked over at your half finished gem ‘paint-by-numbers’, the scarf you’d crocheted that looked more like the skin of a messed up snake that had a terrible time shedding, and the guitar you had borrowed from Fenwick and nearly broke in a fit of rage when you couldn’t get it to sound the way you wanted it too.

“I just…can’t face them right now.” You admitted dejectedly.

“I don’t blame you. Helga, have you seen the lot of them? If I’d known they were accepting more I would have made my shot.” She mused as she laid back on her bed.

Grief and jealousy intertwined within you as you thought about them dating anyone else but you.

But you supposed that was their prerogative; they were allowed to change their minds.

“Yeah well, you may still have a chance.” You muttered, capturing Caroline’s attention.

“What?” She asked quickly, but you didn’t have a chance to answer before there was a knock on the door.

“Were you expecting anyone?” She asked with a salacious wink, causing you to glare at her.

“If it’s them, I’m not here; please.” You practically begged your roommate as she rolled her eyes and moved to the door to your dorm room.

“Oh, hello Evans.” Caroline greeted, causing you to scrunch your eyes closed from your place currently hidden from view of the door.

“Hi! Erm, is Y/N around?” Lily asked, sounding uncharacteristically awkward.

“Uh…no, she’s not in right now. I can let her know you stopped by, though?” Caroline offered.

You heard Lily thank her before Caroline closed the door again.

“You sure you don’t want them? ‘Cause those Gryffindor’s are fine.” She sighed as she returned to her bed.

She let out a squawk when your pillow made contact with her head.

Lily stepped out through the barrel to find Sirius and Remus exactly where she had left them (albeit far more tense) as James came running from down the hall where he had been pacing nervously.

“Well?” James asked.

Lily pursed her lips. “Her roommate said she wasn’t there.”

Remus looked down at the map to the place where your name was etched beside your roommate’s in the seventh year Hufflepuff girls’ dormitory.

Either the map was faulty [fat chance], or you were avoiding them.

It was official.

For whatever reason, they were losing you.

You had somehow managed to avoid the Gryffindor’s all Monday; taking a moment to thank every deity that you only had Divination with the Gryffindor house, and none of your Gryffindor’s had opted to take it.

You wondered if you could call them your Gryffindor’s anymore…

You had run over to the kitchens - all but a hop skip and a jump from your common room - to grab dinner and were stepping back out through the portrait of the pears when you came face to face with Sirius.

“So nice to see you, Y/N; I’d almost forgotten what your face looked like.” He said; his tone taking on a harsh tone you weren’t accustomed to hearing directed at you causing you to wince.

“Pads…” Remus warned from behind him, though he was looking at you just as warily as Sirius was.

As was James and Lily.

Shit.

“I’m glad to see you’re still eating…” Remus commented dejectedly as he nodded towards your smorgasbord of a plate that Winky had helped prepare for you that now looked horribly unappetising.

“I…yes. Erm, what are you guys doing here?” You tried.

It had, apparently, been the wrong thing to say.

Sirius let out a derisive scoff. “Cut the bullshit, Y/N. What the hell has gotten into you?”

“Sirius.” Lily warned.

“Would you guys stop?” He barked back at them before returning his burning gaze back to you. “I’m tired of this; of running around the school looking for you, of being disappointed every time you bail on us, of having to hold James whilst he cries because you’ve let him down, of being lied to. So I’m going to ask again - what the hell has gotten into you?”

“Nothing has gotten into me…” You tried to argue, though it sounded feeble even to your own ears.

James had cried? You made James cry…

The disappointment in Remus’ eyes, the concern in Lily’s, the anger in Sirius’, the sadness in James’... it was too much, too much, too much.

“You’re going to stand there and lie to my sodding face?” Sirius asked incredulously.

“Sirius, stop it.” James ordered; his voice far more severe than you have ever heard from him. “Angel, please. Just…just tell us what’s wrong. Tell me what I can do to fix this.”

Any sadness that had settled in your chest bubbled into anger at his word choice.

“Fix this?” You repeated back to him. “Why? Why bother fixing anything if you’re all just going to leave me!?”

The four Gryffindor’s stood staring at you with different levels of bemusement; Lily and Sirius at your words, Remus and James at you having raised your voice for the first time…well…ever.

“What do you mean ‘leave you’?” Lily asked cautiously, causing you to scoff.

“I heard you guys - in the library.”

“In the library? But…you never showed?” James asked.

“Yes, I did - and I heard you guys talking about me, so I decided to stay out of your way thinking that maybe I’d make it easier on you all. But then you’ve spent the past week absolutely torturing me; showing up at my classes, trying to sit beside me, showing up to my dorm room like you weren’t just biding your time.”

“Y/N, what exactly did you hear us say in the library?” Remus queried.

“That you couldn’t do this anymore! That someone ‘had to tell me’ because it was ‘getting out of hand’. That you couldn’t possibly live like this anymore and hopefully I’d just understand. And I do! I do understand; but what I don’t understand is what the point of chasing me around the bloody castle is if you-”

“Whoa, whoa. Okay, alright just breathe, darling, I’m sorry.” Lily attempted to placate, holding her hands up as she approached like you were some kind of feral cat.

You sort of acted like one when you swatted her hands away from you.

“No! No, it’s not fair! I’m sorry if I’m too much, or if I’m not enough; I get it, okay? I do; sometimes it doesn’t work out and that’s fair but if that’s how you feel then just leave me alone!” You shouted back, feeling the tears trailing down your neck at this point.

“Y/N, please, listen okay? Just relax and we can talk this out.” Lily tried again as James let out a pained breath that sounded awfully close to a sob.

“Remus, please.” He begged, turning his pooling hazel eyes to his scarred boyfriend who was looking at you in abject horror. “Please.”

“Y/N, you’ve misunderstood, dove. I-I’m sorry, It’s my fault, but what you heard…that wasn’t us talking about breaking up with you. I… It was about me.”

You wiped angrily at your face and set your now cold plate on the ground - you weren’t hungry anymore anyways. “It’s not you, it’s me?” You sneered half-heartedly.

“No, no…Merlin, Y/N I- I’m a werewolf. Okay? I have lycanthropy, I was bitten when I was four; that’s where I go once a month and why I get…weird. We were talking about the fact that I needed to tell you because it was hurting us to keep it from you. Dovey, I’m so sorry you’ve been so upset. Please, please take a breath for me.”

You held your hands over your eyes as you tried to control your breathing.

Sketchiness…tension…disappearances…

“You’re going to have to say something to her, Rem; this is getting out of hand”

“Can’t we just ignore this? Just for a little longer? I mean, it can’t be that bad?”

“Y/N’s so sensitive though… How do you tell her something like that?”

“It has to come from Remus.”

“I don’t bloody care how we tell her, but we have to say something; I cannot keep living like this, it’s exhausting.”

“I’m sorry you guys. I thought we could ignore it but…I don’t think we can anymore.”

“I think we ought to just rip the bandaid off and hope she understands.”

“I’m a werewolf. I have lycanthropy…that’s where I go once a month.”

“Please…baby, please say something. I-I’m so sorry.” You heard Sirius plead quietly; his shaky voice in stark contrast from the way he’d been barking at you just moments before.

You pulled your wet hands away from your eyes to see all four of them looking at you with nothing but worry and heartache on their faces; though none looked quite as vulnerable as Remus did.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He whispered.

You sucked in a shuddering breath as more tears fell. “So…you don’t hate me?”

Remus let out a disbelieving laugh when you heard what sounded suspiciously like a sob from James.

“No! No, no dove, that- I’m rather quite in love with you, you know?” He pressed, daring to step closer to you. “Do you hate me?” He asked then, tone turning vulnerable once more.

“No.” You whined emphatically.

“Oh my poor girl.” Sirius whined sympathetically.

“Can I hug you? Please?” James all but begged, stepping in front of you with his arms open already; poised for you to say…

“Yes.”

You’re not sure he even waited for the affirmation to leave your lips before he had you encased in his arms.

You shoved your face into his chest and fisted his shirt in your hands; pulling him as close as you possibly could to your person.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been standing there - directly in front of the kitchens and awfully close to your own common room - sniffling into James’ shirt as he sniffled into your hair, but you heard a sniffle come from beside you.

You turned to see Sirius’ grey eyes shiny and red as he looked at you imploringly.

“I’m so sorry I yelled at you, sweetness. I’m such an arse I just…I-”

“It’s okay.” You whispered.

“No it’s not.” Sirius argued immediately. “I…I get like that sometimes; just horribly defensive and then I go on the offensive first. I didn’t even give you a chance to talk to us before I was attacking you; I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Siri.” You offered again, holding a hand out to him which he took readily.

“I can’t believe you’ve spent this whole week believing we wanted nothing to do with you.” Lily whined from your other side. “I’m so sorry we left you feeling like that, darling girl.”

Though you were quite content in your muscled hideaway, you pulled away from James’ chest to wipe at your face again, feeling awfully self-conscious of how blotchy your face must look from your tears.

“I shouldn’t have assumed.” You admitted shamefully; voice scratchy from both the shouting and the crying.

“The way you described it, I can understand how our conversation sounded to you, babygirl.” Sirius contended.

“So…you’re really not leaving me?” You asked again.

“I feel like I should be asking you that, dove.” Remus replied.

“Why would I be leaving you?”

Lily shared a knowing look with Sirius and James who in turn moved their gazes to Remus with expressions reading “see?”.

“Not everyone would be accepting of a werewolf.”

You felt your eyebrows furrow as you looked at the others as if saying “are you hearing this right now?”

“But…I love you? I…I don’t even know what else to say…I just… love you so, that’s fine.”

“I just love you so that’s fine.” Sirius repeated as he looked at Remus arrogantly. “I knew I should have placed a bet on how she’d respond; I’d have made five galleons!”

“We were not going to bet on how our girlfriend would respond to Remus’ furry little problem, Sirius.” Lily chided as she playfully swatted at his shoulder.

“Besides,” James added, pulling you closer into his side again. “You would have lost because I don’t think any of us would have bet that she’d misinterpret our disastrous conversation as us trying to leave her and then spend the week believing we were waiting for the perfect time to break up with her only for us all to shout and cry when we realised what happened.”

“No, that's true.” Sirius agreed readily, looking back at you with sympathy. “I really am sorry, baby.”

“Me too.” Lily continued.

“Me most of all.” Remus added.

“I knew we should have gone looking for her that night.” James mused aloud mostly to himself. “Could have saved us all a lot of heartache.”

“Yeah, yeah Prongs. You’re right again; I’m sure we’ll never live it down.” Sirius said with a playful eye roll.

“How can we make it up to you?” Lily asked as she placed her hand at the juncture of your neck and shoulder and traced shapes along the column of your neck with her thumb.

You shook your head shyly and looked at your feet. “It’s not necessary guys.”

“Nonsense.” Sirius scoffed.

“Let’s start with some dinner, yeah? And maybe a cwtch in the boys’ dorm upstairs?” Remus offered to the group, though he seemed to be waiting for you to answer.

You nodded at him and he opened his arms in invitation which you accepted readily.

“I’m sorry, dovey.” He whispered into your hair.

“I’m sorry too, Rem.”

“Let’s never fight again.” James decided enthusiastically as Lily and Sirius stepped through the pear portrait into the kitchens.

“Sounds good to me, bubs.” Remus agreed as he bent down to press a kiss to James’ lips whilst keeping you secured to his side.

You were sure that after this week, these four wouldn’t be letting you out of their reach.

After this week, you weren’t sure you minded that at all.

244 notes · View notes

satorusugurugurl · 1 day

Note

How would satosugu, nanami, and choso react to reader trying to hide a really bad injury after a mission and thinking they’ll take care of it tomorrow, but they end up passing out or something ?

Mwah 💋

Hurt

Summary: You get injured on the job, and try to hide it from your boyfriend, how will they react when they find out the truth?

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Choso Kam, FAB!Reader

Word Count: 4,221

Warning: Mentions of injuries, blood, suggestivness, little angsty, little crack!

A/N: Ah nothing like a good stern lecture from sexy anime men! Thank you for the request Nonnie enjoy!! 💚

Gojo Satoru + Geto Suguru

This wasn’t good, nope, not in the slightest. Your side was killing you. The structures the doctor at the hospital did sting each time you moved, and you’d already taken the pain meds he had prescribed. You just needed to wait until tomorrow. Shoko said she’d heal you as soon as she was in town. Until then, you just needed to fake it.

“I don’t think you should be alone right now,” Ijichi announces as he opens the car door for you. “I should call Gojo and Geto to tell them what happened.”

“I’m fine,” you respond with a grimace. “They're busy teaching right now. I don’t wanna be a bother.”

“But you lost a lot of blood.”

“I'm fine!” you assured him, patting him on the back as you headed towards your house. “Don't call them. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Standing inside the threshold, you waved as he drove away, but the second the door shielded your face, you doubled over in pain. If the assistant supervisor had seen you like this, he wouldn’t have let you go inside alone. Your trusted friend would have called your partners, insisting for them to come home. If they had known what had happened, they would have cared for you, of course, but you would also have received a lecture on why you should be safe. Geto would insist you train specifically with him. Gojo would ensure you were sent on missions with him until they were sure you could protect yourself.

That would be the worst-case scenario. You hadn’t gotten injured like this in years. It wasn’t even your fault. The floor gave way, leaving you vulnerable for a second, totally not on you, but your boyfriends wouldn’t see it like that.

“Oooh fuck me.” You whimpered, resting your head against the door. “Fuck me”

“That can be arranged.” Hot breath fanned over your neck, making you jump. “Whoa, easy there!”

Gojo’s eyes were on you as soon as you turned toward the voice. They were full of happiness and joy over seeing you come home. “Satoru? What are you doing at home? Shouldn’t you be teaching right now?” Your sudden outburst had him blinking in confusion.

“All of the students were sent on missions,” Geto answered as he leaned against the wall, cocking an eyebrow. “There were no other missions, so we decided to surprise you.”

“Oooh!” The throbbing pain in your side had you wincing. “That’s great! Awesome, what a nice surprise!”

“You don’t look too excited,” Satoru bluntly called you out. “Are you sure you’re okay, sweetheart?”

“Oooh yeah, I’m great.” You were lying; you were far from great because the room was spinning. “I need to sit down; my feet are—” your vision blurred as you stumbled past Satoru leaning against the wall.

“You sure?” Suguru asked, gently grabbing your shoulder and steadying you. “You look pale.”

“I'm just tired.” the faster you got past them, the quicker you could get off your feet and relax.

Suguru releases your shoulder, letting you step towards the living room. “For someone who’s doing great. You sure are swaying a lot.” Satoru was by your side, watching you as if he thought you would fall, which you might end up doing.

“Yeah, I can assure you, I’m fine.” Your tone was as sharp as a knife, causing both partners to cease interrogation. “I just wanna sit down with you both., watch a movie and cuddle.”

Upon hearing your request, the request you always made when you returned from a mission. Both men fell into your routine. Suguru walked past you, heading to the couch, while Satoru ran to the bedroom.

“I’ll grab blankets!”

“Princess, do you want to grab the snacks? I’ll pick out the movie.” there was a particular look in your dark-haired boyfriend's eyes. He was trying to test you to see if you were as fine and dandy as you claimed to be

Knowing him, the interrogation would start if you asked to pick out the movie instead. Neither he nor Satoru would let up until you came clean about the injury. Once that was out in the open, you knew the lectures and scheduled training sessions would soon follow.

Blinking away, the blurry vision in your eyes, you gave Suguru a thumbs up, heading into the kitchen. You grab different kinds of snacks, candy, popcorn, and some chips. Each wavering movement had the stitches in your side screaming in protest; your sore skin begged for you to sit down and relax. You tried to fight through the pain, but your painkillers weren’t cutting in. Leaving you in a sheen sheet of sweat as you carried the bowls back to the living room.

Upon hearing your footsteps, Suguru turned just as Satoru returned with a blanket. The bowls in your hands felt like they weighed a ton as you tried stepping forward, but your legs refused to move. Suguru noticed your behavior, standing and taking a tentative step forward.

“Princess?” Two Suguru’s stood before you as your vision blurred with black spots. Something hot and wet ran down your side.

“Why are there two Suguru’s?” Your voice cracked as the bowls fell to the ground. “I-Is it my birthday?” Your hazy attention was suddenly on Satoru as you stumbled. “Oh,” Blinking at the Satoru’s rushing for you, the room suddenly turned on its side. Oh no, you were falling. “Fuck.”

Darkness overcame you, and thoughts of double Satoru’s and Suguru’s infiltrated your dreams. Dreams that were lewd, sweaty, and full of pleasure. But in the midst of your, what would you call it? SatoSugu orgy, Shoko appeared, staring down at you.

“Make sure you sterilize that wound,” Her cigarette bobbed between her lips. “Infection can set fast.”

“I know that.” The Suguru at your neck responded less out of breath than you were.

The Satoru between your legs looked back at Shoko. “Do you want us to bring her in tomorrow?”

“No, I’ll stop by on the way to work.”

As you blinked in your dreams, your groggy eyes opened, and you found yourself lying in bed. Suguru was shaking a spray bottle before spraying it on your side. The wound suddenly felt like hundreds of hot needles were stabbing it. With watering eyes, you screamed in pain. You knew the spray was supposed to help, but it seemed to enhance the throbbing pain in your side.

“Looks like your patient is awake.” Shoko chuckled on the phone Satoru held. The pain made you try to curl in on yourself just to have your boyfriend stop you. “I’ll let you guys go. See you in the morning.”

“Bye, thanks, Shoko.” the second you heard the FaceTime call, cerulean eyes met you. “Soo, you wanna try telling us how your mission went again?”

“N-No.”

“Ooh, she said no, Suguru.”

“That she did. Do you want to tell her?”

Your white-haired boyfriend shook his head, a sinister smile on his face. “No, I know you were looking forward to it.” Suguru’s eyes were shut as he gave you a gentle smile that wasn’t gentle in the slightest.

“Did you seriously think Shoko wouldn't call us and tell us about your injury?”

It feels like your house crashes around you. “That traitor.” Your wound receives another spray of antiseptic. “Ow fuck! What was that for?!” Suguru continues to smile, the smile that always scares the loving shit out of you.

“You heard Shoko, I need to make sure it’s clean.”

Satoru is by your side in an instant. “Why wouldn’t you tell us what happened? Did you think we were going to yell at you or something?” You bark out a laugh, giving them a look of disbelief.

“Yes! I made a rookie mistake. Regardless of how it happened, it ended with me leaving myself wide open and getting hurt in the process. I know that this one.” Suguru hums in response. He cleans up the bloodied gauze around you. “Is going to make me train with him. And you aren’t going to let me go on any missions by myself.”

“You’re right about one thing: you will be training with me every morning for a week.” Suguru pats you on the head.

“But you’re wrong about me going to higher-ups. I know you’re capable of taking care of yourself; you had an accident. You’re not the first sorcerer to get injured on the job.”

“Wait, seriously?”

Both your partners exchange a look with each other. “Yeah, we aren’t going to lock you in the apartment and not allow you to go out. You’re strong, but you shouldn’t have lied to us.” Suguru gently strokes your hair back. “So in the future, if you happen to get hurt, just be honest about it. You wouldn’t like it if Satoru or I hid something like that from you, would you?” They watch as you shake your head.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I won’t ever keep something like that from you guys again.”

“Good,” Suguru kisses your forehead as Satoru lies beside you on the bed. “but just because you apologized doesn’t mean you’re out of the woods yet.”

“Huh?”

Satoru claps his hands together above his head, drawing your attention. “Sex ban for a week.” If your side wasn’t screaming in pain, you would have sat up.

“S-Sex ban?! Why?! Shoko will have me all healed up tomorrow!”

“Your side might be healed, but our hearts are still wounded.” Faux sorrow is thick in Satoru’s voice.

“L-Let’s be reasonable about this! I haven’t seen you guys in like a week! I need you both!”

The sound of things being thrown in a trashcan draws your attention. “Should have thought about that before you lied to us. For the next week, you’re training with me; in that time, neither me nor Satoru will touch. You’re not even allowed to touch yourself. Princess, you’ll have to suffer and watch us go at it.” Satoru scrambles off the bed, throwing himself at Suguru, his delicate pink lips pressing against your boyfriend's. “It’s a shame, too, because you sounded like you were having a great time when you passed out earlier.” You helplessly lay in bed, watching your boyfriends make out with each other.

You never hid another injury from them after that torturous week.

Nanami Kento:

“Ow, ow, ow.” You gingerly touch the gash on the back of your head. It throbbed in pain to the point it was making you dizzy. You had Nitta glue it shut with the first aid kit from her car, ignoring her pleas to call Nanami and go to the hospital. The gash itself wasn’t a big deal. So, there is no point in calling Nanami on his day off. It could wait until Shoko was back at school.

A cursed spirit got too zealous and threw you against a metal gate. The impact had you seeing stars, but you quickly shook it off and finished your mission. The wound would be another addition to the scars you had gained over the years. A superficial cut was something your boyfriend did not need to worry about or get involved in. The only thing he needed to do was lose himself in his book.

Reading was precisely what he was doing as you stepped into the apartment. Nanami’s legs were propped up on the ottoman, his eyes roaming over the pages of the book he had eagerly awaited. The gentle smile on his face as he sipped tea was the only clarification you needed to know you had made the right choice and not bothering him.

“I’m home!” You announced, kicking your shoes off before collapsing on the couch beside him.

“Welcome back.” Nanami laid his book down on his chest, allowing him to kiss you gently. “How did the mission go?”

“Easy, I’m happy to be home.”

“I'm happy to have you home. I was pretty lonely and bored.”

“Lonely and bored? Is your book not that good? You’ve been so eager to read it for weeks.”

“Oh, it’s good, I missed—” his lips move, but a sharp ringing in your ears drowns him out. He notices the blank look as you try to pinpoint what he said. “Love?”

“Hmm?” Play it cool, play cool.

“I asked you a question.”

Well, playing it cool might not be as easy as you thought. “I’m sorry I’m a little out of it. What did you say, Ken?” The questioning look in his eyes lets you know he’s on to you. Damn him for being so perspective.

“I said I missed you and asked if you wanted to lie down on my lap while I read.”

“Oh! Sure, of course.”

You rest your head in Nanami’s lap, making sure your gash isn’t anywhere close to him. Your husband notices the awkward way you lie down, as if your head is tender to the touch, but he doesn’t say anything. He lifts his book while his free hand gently strokes the top of your head.

Each time he pulls his hand back, you stiffen in fear that he’ll graze over your wound. He doesn’t come close, though. Nanami focuses his strokes solely on the crown of your head. Usually, you would have called asleep and could fall asleep, and you would have if it weren't for the pulsing, pounding pressure that begins to build in your head. You choke back, pained groans, and whine, not wanting Nanami to know what’s going on.

The pressure continues to build, and nausea swirls in the pit of your stomach. Ringing in ears, headache, and nausea put the three together, along with a head wound, and you don’t even need a doctor to tell you what’s wrong. Most likely, you have a concussion, and it’s a bad one.

You should have listened to Nitta and went to the hospital. Getting checked out right now was probably a good idea, but how could you tell your boyfriend now? ‘Oh, my brain got scrambled by a cursed spirit and failed to mention it to you. Could you maybe take me to the hospital?’ Yeah, that was a conversation destined to end in an argument or lecture, both if you were lucky. If Shoko hurried up, you might have been able to sneak out to meet her at the school.

“Love.” Your husband whispers. “You’re trembling, and you keep wincing. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’m—” Nanami holds his hand out in front of your face. His palm is coated red with blood.

“You’ve already lied to me once, so do not do it again.”

“Ooh, I’m bleeding.” You try to sit up, but your body falls forward as dizziness overwhelms you. Nanami catches you, lifting you into his arms. “The blood is supposed to be inside of my body.”

You blink slowly as Kento rushes out of your apartment. There are blurred shapes and muffled voices as you’re treated in the hospital; you feel disoriented like you’re high. Your husband's hand holding yours is the one comforting sensation that grounds you.

His thumb rubs comforting circles over your knuckles. His deep, soothing voice talks to you, shushing your pained cries as the back of your head is stitched shut. And his smell engulfs you as you lay together in the hospital bed.

Once the room clears, you look towards your husband, who stares ahead with an unreadable expression. The instant he feels your eyes on him, his head jerks in your direction. That unreadable expression shifts into a look of anger and disappointment. You were royally fucked.

“Ten stitches.” An audible gulp sounds from you. “The doctor had to put ten stitches because your makeshift patch job failed.”

“It was only—”

“Stop talking, do not interrupt me.” Oh, he was pissed, and you felt like you were five inches tall as you snapped your mouth shut. “I called Nitta to find out she told you to call me, but you insisted on not bothering me on my day off. When have I ever in our entire relationship made you feel as though I’m not available on my days off?”

“You haven't.”

“Then tell me why you wouldn’t have called me.”

“I-I didn’t wanna be a bother. You work so hard you deserve to relax on your days off.”

Kento turns so he’s facing you, fingers gently holding your chin. “Just because I have a day off does not mean I am incapable of caring for my wife.” The anger that burned in his brown iris shifted to sadness and concern. “Do I make myself clear? We don’t hide stuff like injuries from each other.”

He had every right to be angry. If he had hidden the injury from you, you would’ve reacted the same way. Hiccups bubble in your chest as you softly cry. Nanami’s grip on your chin slides up to your cheek fingers, gently brushing away the falling tears.

“I'm sorry, Kento, I should’ve talked to you.” His lips kiss away the last lingering tears. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you for apologizing. Are you okay now? You're not in pain, are you?”

“No, I'm just drained.”

Nanami peered at the clock on the wall. “Go ahead and get some rest. I’ll wake you in about an hour to check on you.” His warm and gentle voice has you drifting to sleep.

“I love you, Kento.”

“I love you too, darling.”

Choso Kamo:

“Ew, do you think it’s broken? It shouldn’t look like that.” Nobara cringes as Megumi and Yuuji help ease you onto a bench.

“It’s just a sprain.”

“I don’t know, but it’s already swelling.” Megumi’s blue eyes lock on your ankle. “I might be broken.”

Yuuji is biting down on his knuckle, glancing between your ankle and face. “My brother is going to kill me.” You were going to kill the three of them if they didn’t give you some space to breathe.

“It’s not broken. I assure you of that, and Choso will not kill you.”

What had started as a typical training session had turned into a full-on brawl. One that ended with you getting kicked so hard you stumbled back ten yards just to roll your ankle. None of your students were at fault; if anyone was, you encouraged them to go at you with full strength.

“Look, just do me a favor, okay? Do not mention this to Gojo. The bastard will never let me live it down, and if you see Choso, don’t mention it to him either.”

“Should we just go grab Ieri for you?” Megumi glanced back at your ankle, which was already starting to bruise.

Oh, if only life were. “She has today off, and I refuse to bug her with some so Minuscule; I’ll be fine until tomorrow.” Skepticism painted the features of your students. “I’m fine. Go wash up. Class dismissed.” None of them moved like they were waiting to see if one of the three would fight you on your decision. There was hesitation in their features, so you mustered the best mom look you could.

One that terrified them more than a curse.

“Right, right! Later!” Yuuji was the first to take off, running down the path. Taking a second glance at you was all your other students needed to follow close behind him.

You sat there on the bench, looking up at the sky. All you needed was a few minutes to yourself before you attempted to head back. But those few minutes turned into an hour. Not because you got tired or lost track of time. No, it was because when you tried to get up, your ankle protested at the weight you put on it.

Maybe it wasn’t a minor sprain like you thought.

Regrets of your choices in the last hour lingered like cheap perfume. You had no phone, no students to help you, and there was no one to come to your rescue. Your only choices were to crawl back to the teacher dorms or wait for a soul to pass by. If no one stopped by, you would have to settle in for a long night

You were about to start crawling, praying Gojo didn’t walk by when a confused “Baby?” Called out from down the trail, drawing your attention in.

Choso was rushing forward, his hair bouncing with each step. “Hi, Cho!” You waved before patting the seat next to you.

“What are you doing here? Gojo said your training session with the kids ended over an hour ago.”

“Oh, I, uhm, just wanted to admire this beautiful day. Take a chance to smell the roses.”

Your boyfriend sat down next to you, his eyes moving to look up at the trees. The sunlight that shone through the branches and leaves caused the rays of sunlight to dance over his handsome face. Taking a deep breath, he shut his eyes and soaked in the sun's warmth.

At that moment, you forgot about the pain in your ankle. He looked so happy; the last thing you wanted to do was ruin his peaceful zen to have him worry about you.

Opening his eyes, he let out a soft sigh before his warm gaze met you. He looked at you like he had when admiring the towering trees above. Damn, your busted ankle; if the numbing pain weren’t so bad, you would’ve kissed him until neither of you could breathe.

“I see you’ve been here. It’s a perfect day.” Yeah, if only he knew the other reason you were sitting on the bench. “As beautiful as the view is, it is getting late. Do you want to head back? Yuuji invited us to go to the movies tonight.”

“Uhm, yeah.” Choso took your hand in his, helping you stand up. “Nngh.” You cry out behind your hand as the pain in your ankles shoots up your leg.

Choso’s warm gaze on you and an. “What’s wrong?” He studies your stance, noting how you put all your weight on your good ankle.

“N-Nothing, I’m just stiff.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm!”

“Okay then.” he pulls his hand away, causing your balance to falter. “Let’s go if you're fine.”

Sweat beads on your forehead, not from the warm day but from the pain. “Alright.” You try to come off as chipper, but your voice betrays you, cracking under the discomfort. “L-Let’s get going! Movies! Yay!” Choso crosses his arms over his chest as he watches you.

Taking one step forward feels like a sore is plunged into your foot. You grit your teeth before taking another step forward, the pain more intense this time, the singular sword suddenly multiplied by ten. Blinking away the tears in your eyes, you attempt to take another step forward, only to stumble.

You brace yourself for the impact that never comes. Choso’s arm is around your waist the second you stumble forward. He can feel your ragged breathing as he eases back onto the bench. His long fingers gently push up your leggings, revealing your swollen and discolored ankle. It seems as though sitting on the bench has made it worse. You knew better than to let it dangle. I.C.E., icing, compressing, and elevating was best for you to do with a sprained ankle. Instead, the swelling was out of control when this could’ve been avoided.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?” In your tear-filled gaze, Choso’s eyes are lingering on your face. “Is this the real reason you’ve been sitting here for so long?”

There was no sense in lying, not when you had been caught. “Yes, that’s why I’ve been sitting here. The kids offered to help me, but I was being stubborn.” The sigh that leaves Choso’s mouth is thick with disappointment. “I didn’t bring my phone, or I would have called you eventually.” Your boyfriend moves, turning so his back is facing you.

“Yet when I’m beside you, you still hide it.”

“I-I know, I’m sorry.” You wait for him to get up and leave you stranded on the bench. But instead, he looks over his shoulder at you.

“Well, come on,” he gestures to his back, “get on, we’ll go home, and we’ll take a look at it there,” You do as he says, climbing onto his back. “And up we go.” he stands, allowing you to bury your face into the crook of his neck. He gives you a piggyback ride across campus. Things remain relatively quiet until he sighs. “Baby, next time you get hurt, please tell me. That way, I can help you,” he glances at the corner of his eye. “I know you think you have to do things all on your own, but you don’t when I’m with you.”

Not even a second passed before you bit down gently on his cheek. “I promise I’ll tell you next time. I’m sorry I didn’t mention it earlier. I’m sort of embarrassed that I got taken down by my ankle. I’m a sorcerer, for god's sake.” You give his cheek another nibble, winning shy laughter from him.

“Don't eat me~ how will you get back to the dorm?”

“Crawl?” You suggest, resulting in Choso laughing harder.

“No crawling for my baby, I got you.” and you couldn't have been more content with that.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe

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arc-misadventures · 2 days

Note

Jaune is asked FMK on his all female teammates, but instead it’s his mom asking BMI.

Body mass index? No, Breed, Mate, or Impregnate.

BMI: Jaune

Juniper: Oh, Jaune~?

Jaune: Oh great… hell is here…

Pyrrha: What are you talking about, it’s just your mom?

Nora: Hi, Mom!

Rin: Hello, Mrs. Arc.

Juniper: Hello girls!

Jaune: What do you want mom?

Juniper: Can you answer something for me~?

Jaune: No.

Juniper: What? But, I haven’t even asked you anything.

Jaune: Aye, but it’s you, so what ever it is, is something I don’t want to answer!

Juniper: Please~!

Jaune: …

Jaune: Haa… fine ask your question… But, it better nit be MFK, or so help me!

Pyrrha: You relented pretty fast.

Jaune: She’ll keep bothering me until I finally say yes, so I might as well as get this over, and done with.

Rin: Wise choice.

Juniper: Okay, Jaune… BMI…

Jaune: BMI; the hell is that?

Juniper: Breed, Mate, and Impregnate~!

Jaune: WHAT?! What the hell is that?

Juniper: It’s things you do when you have se…?!

Jaune: I know what it is! It’s just, why are you asking me this?

Juniper: I thought you were tired of doing, MFK, so I decided go spice things up.

Jaune: Ironically I would have preferred that… Haa… okay… who are the poor victims you have chosen this time?

Juniper: I want you to BMI: Pyrrha, Rin, and Nora~!

Jaune: WHAT?!

NPR: 😳😳😳

Juniper: What? I’m simply curious what you would do with your friends if given the opportunity to, BMI.

Jaune: But, Mom, you’re asking me to do this to my…

Pyrrha: Jaune, answer the question.

Jaune: What?! Pyrrha, you can’t be…

Nora: Answer the question, Jaune.

Jaune: But, she asking me to…

Rin: Answer the question.

Jaune: But…?!

NPR: ANSWER THE QUESTION!

Jaune: Okay! Okay! Okay!

Jaune: Haa…

Jaune: I would, Mate with, Pyrrha.

Pyrrha: Why?

Jaune: Do you really want to know why?

Pyrrha: Yes!

Jaune: Okay?! Because I believe you are not ready for the other two options because you’re focusing on your career.

Pyrrha: A fair assessment.

Jaune: I’d breed, Nora…

Nora: Why?! Tell me?! What position would you take me in?! How long would you do me?! How many loads would you dump in me?!

Juniper: Oh my~!

Jaune: …?!

Jaune: I s-said, Nora because I thought she would be into it. I didn’t think she’d be that into it!

Nora: I’m totally into being breed like a brood mare by you, Jaune~!

Jaune: Uhhhhhhhhh?!?!

Pyrrha: So that’s what, Nora’s moaning in the middle of the night were about.

Ren: Like yours are any better.

Pyrrha: Y-You know?!

Jaune: And, lastly I would… I would impregnate, Rin…

Rin: Wonderful~! When shall we start!

Jaune: B-Beg pardon…?

Rin: You said you would impregnate me. Shall we get started now, or what?

Jaune: You want me to do that now?!

Rin: Yes.

Jaune: B-But, what about your career of becoming a huntress?

Rin: I much rather have a career as a housewife for our children than be a huntress.

Jaune: But, we’re still in school!

Ren: And?

Jaune: Ah?!

Jaune: Guys help me out here.

Pyrrha: Help you impregnate, Rin? Of course I’ll help~!

Jaune: Help?!

Nora: Would you be upset if you knocked me up while you impregnate, Rin?

Jaune: WAIT, WHAT?!

Rin: Come on, Jaune; let’s go start our happy family~!

Jaune: Ahh, no wait! Mom! Save me!

Juniper: Make sure to drink lots of water dear~!

Jaune: You traitor!

~~~

Glynda: Mr. Arc…

Jaune: Yes, Professor Goodwitch…?

Glynda: You impregnated… your entire team…

Jaune: Yeah… Mom, put ideas in their heads, and well… that happened.

Glynda: I see… Juniper getting involved would certainly answer things… But, let me ask you something.

Jaune: Yes, Professor?

Glynda: Why wasn’t I involved in this game of BMI?

Jaune: …

Jaune: Eh…?

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inkdrinkerworld · 2 days

Note

hi babe! would you be interested in writing something for remus where his gf is totally badass and kind of like a spitfire but the second she's home from work, she's kinda melting into remus and he eats it up?

"No, I am not coming back in! Are you kidding me?" You blow a kiss to Remus as you shoulder the door shut, dropping your keys into the plate near your door.

"No. I'm not leaving my house again, driving two hours in this traffic to come back to sign some papers. Leave it there or come by my place to drop it."

Remus shakes his head, a hidden smile on his face as he pulls dinner from the oven. He knows exactly what is going to happen after this

“Are you kidding me? I gave specific instructions on what to do, how could they possibly mess that up?” You’re seething as you step into your front door.

You’d had a day at the office and even on the drive home you’d been on the phone giving directives and discussing strategies for a project you’re working on.

You’re exhausted and you just want a hot bath with your boyfriend and a slice of that apple cake you’d made over the weekend for dessert.

“No, I’m not coming back to have a meeting. We can meet tonight if it’s necessary, but I’ll be in office tomorrow.”

Remus is sitting in the living room, reading one of his novels as you make your way over to him.

He quirks a brow at your tone and you point to your phone rolling your eyes to get him to smile.

He does and beckons you over, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you set your bag down and pull a pen and book from it, already scribbling some notes for the meeting- whenever it happens.

“Okay goodbye, enjoy the rest of your day.” You’re abrupt as you end the phone call, head pounding as you sigh.

“Hi baby,” he coos, eyes crinkling as you flop into his arms, burying your face in his chest. “Long day?”

You nod, mewling as you say, “So long Remmy.” Remus always wants to laugh at the way you sort of melt like ice cream on a hot day when you’re home from work.

He’s well aware of your bright, no-nonsense attitude at work and in general, but when it’s you and him you’re his baby and he loves it.

Remus eats it up, loves every second of you needing him like you do.

“I’ve made beef stir-fry for tea. And I ordered the saucy shrimp you like.”

He feels you smile against his chest, then you lift your chin and kiss the underside of his jaw.

“Thanks Rem.” Your phone rings again and you groan. Remus beats you to checking the caller ID and sucks at his teeth.

“Would ignoring Devin be a bad thing to do?” He asks, nose running along your hairline as you deliberate.

“No,” Remus doesn’t hesitate. He clicks your phone locked and helps you further into his lap.

“Don’t take the meeting tonight. You need an early night, you didn’t sleep till three this morning.” You look a bit bashful with your legs hooked to each of his hips and Remus laughs. You’d thought you were doing a good job at being quiet even though you’d been awake long after Remus and you had gone to bed.

“But it’ll be so much faster because then we’ll have to decide meeting times and where’s the most ideal place.”

Remus raises an eyebrow, “Let them do it then. You need your rest and I don’t particularly care if they struggle to fit the meeting in their schedule.” You sigh, reaching for your phone. “Just let me text them then, otherwise it’ll keep ringing.”

He shakes his head, taking your phone from you and unlocking it.

“Go have a shower, I’ll plate up dinner and send the text to them. Tomorrow at ten is fine for the meeting?” He asks and you nod, pressing another kiss to his lips.

“Thanks, Remmy.” Remus pats your bum as you go, watching you with a little smile as he thinks of how he’s going to get you to bed by nine.

#remuslupin #remus lupin #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin headcanon #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fic #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x black reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x yn #remus lupin x y/n

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brucewaynehater101 · 3 days

Note

Have you ever read a fic called A Medication On Railroading? Because I think you'll like it. Basic summery with no spoilers: Jack takes Tim on a trip to Atlanta and then leaves him in Atlanta so he goes train hopping to get home. Very hurt/comfort.

But it also gives me an idea that I'm not sure where to share. What if that wasn't Tim's first time getting home like that? Maybe the first time was just New York when he was say... 9 years old? His parents took him with them to a Gala and Jack thought Janet called him a car home and Janet thought Jack took care of it. Neither one did and Tiny Tim figured out how to get home on his own. It happens again when he's 11 so he already knows what to do, he studied up in case it happened again.

After the second time, anytime Tim is with his parents he keeps his camera bag on him at all times which has 300 dollars in it that he can use on getting home. Tim also discovers during the second one that trains are *way* better than busses and cabs. He's all alone, just him and the scenery and whatever cargo his car holds. He can Fully Relax. He doesn't have to be the perfect heir, he doesn't have to smile for the cameras, he doesn't have to be quiet or good or perfectly polite. He can scream and laugh and cry if he wants to and no one will ever know! He can sing and curse and throw rocks at things! He can be a *kid*.

After Tim becomes Robin, he never calls Batman for a pick up if he's abandoned somewhere and instead will make his own way home. Heck, after some missions with Young Justice he will turn off his trackers and ride trains home so that he can loudly vent about them without having to worry about anyone ever knowing what he said!

This does become a slight problem when he's 17 and Bruce needs him for something and finds out from Bart that their mission ended a day and a half ago. But Tim never called for pick up. And his trackers are all offline. And he never hit his emergency beacon and *no one can find him*. Bruce totally isn't freaking out. The other Bats totally aren't freaking out. Young Justice totally isn't freaking out. There totally isn't a panic spreading through the super hero community about Red Robin maybe being dead I a ditch somewhere and how both Batman and his team will react.

Tim meanwhile is straight vibing as he reclines on a stack of bags of rice like they're pillows, singing along to some sound track he downloaded onto his MP3 player, having turned the volume to max and nearly screaming the lyrics because it's the one time he feels like he can.

Yes! I love that fic you mentioned. It's really really good. Perhaps I should re read it since it's been a minute.

Also, I absolutely adore the little tidbit you've added. A few things to note that I love about it:

No one else knows/finds out until he's Red Robin

It's a semi-decent coping mechanism. He gets to chill out, vibe, and process. He's also in touch with nature and music during this.

Tim drops his various masks to simply exist for a bit

Tim chilling on some rice bags in a train cart with an MP3 player (not even his phone. This indicates he's fully offline during these trips)

A few additional notes to add. One, this could buff up the canon notion that pre-Robin Tim traveled far to go see Dick at the circus and convince him to become Robin again. If Tim had already done that twice unexpectedly, he'd do swell when he actually plans to do it.

Two, Tim probably created a white noise generator or something to give him totally privacy on his "me trips." This is why Kon and Superman freak out. They can't hear him.

Three, he probably gets covered in grime, dust, and dirt. He's no longer in the pristine environment he grew up in.

Gods. That sounds so nice and relaxing. I'm actually kind of jealous. Just the wind, music, and the slowly changing scenery? Fuuuck.

#dc comics #tim drake #dc universe #dc au #thank you for the ask!!!!

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masked-men-fantasy · 3 days

Text

Ask about their manhood size Headcanon (Call of Duty)

Headcanon for my beloved masked men from Call of Duty. What are their sizes down there?

NSFW Content. MDNI.

Jackal

He hid his surprise under the mask when you asked the question about his private part. Not that he hates the question; he is just surprised...

Around 8 1/2 inches.

He has a shower-type cock. So you won't see much difference when he is soft and hard.

Same color as his skin.

Not clean-shaven, but also not bushy. Well-trimmed. It is for the sake of cleanliness, he claimed.

He is proud of his size. He believes that this is the perfect size to satisfy you.

Never, ever joke about his manhood. Because if you do, he will show you what this cock can do until dawn.

"Come on, try to keep up," would be the last thing you hear before you collapse in his arm.

Mace

He will just drag you to the nearest toilet and let you find out with your own eyes. Or hands.

Judging from your eyesight, that should be somewhere around 7-8 inches, give or take.

Trimmed, almost fully shaven.

What surprises you is that his cock also has a crocodile scar, similar to what he has on his body.

He would ask you if you wanted to feel how those scars worked inside. And luckily, your curiosity is likely to win over reason and logic this time.

Ghost

"Confidential," he said.

But if you insist on him enough, with some help from a shot of Baileys, he will give you a hint.

"Can you see a watch on my wrist? Flatten it. That is the exact same length as what I have down there."

Luckily, you and Simon have the same model of watch. So you just flatten it on the counter bar to see the answer.

Let's just say you are more than satisfied with the truth that has been revealed.

"Now that I tell you about my secret, you gotta tell me yours to," Ghost said shortly in a husky voice, but his eyes surely mean he looks for something more than just a typical secret from you.

Oh... you think you know where this is going now.

Nikto

"нет (No)" He answered coldly. And no matter how many times you beg, he will not answer.

Until one day, you find him naked in the locker room by accident.

It is neither that big nor that long, probably because it is soft now. So you think it is quite normal size.

But the main event is what happened after. You are not sure why, but probably because of his nervousness, his manhood suddenly grows—rapidly, tremendously.

6 inches total, with somewhere around 5–6 inches of girth. It might not be that long, but the girth is insanely huge. You wonder if someone would be able to take all of that in.

Now that he is fully erected, he has to find someone to take responsibility for this matter. And then his eyes were drawn to you.

"Take care of this now, сука (bitch)," Nikto said as he held his shaft that pointed directly to you.

#ghost x reader #nikto x reader #mace x reader #jackal x reader #ghost x male reader #nikto x male reader #mace x male reader #jackal x male reader #simon riley x reader #cod #call of duty

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webslingingslasher · 2 days

Note

u know ages ago u were talking about frat peter going “ugh she’s gonna get so attached😒” to “she’s gonna get so attached💕💖💗💕” with cherry

what if the first time they have sex was like during the day and she was fine afterwards, like pretty unaffected and he’s like “oh I guess she didn’t get attached” and nothing happens until they’re ab to go to sleep later that night and suddenly she won’t let him get up to pee/get water/move/breathe/exist without her JDBDJDJ

peter: i need to pee

cherry: NO!!!!!!1!

----

no wait cause i could totally see this!!!!

like, cherry is playing it so cool that peter is a bit bummed but he's not gonna say that so he shrugs it off and a few hours later they're watching a movie and peter stands up and immediately, 'where are you going?'

and peter is a little thrown off at the panic but he mostly ignores it. 'i'm just gonna get some water.' and cherry stares up at him and softly asks him if she can come with.

'i'm just going to the kitchen, cherry.'

'but i want to come with you.'

peter isn't going to fight it, even if it's just down the hallway. 'you can come with me.' instantly, cherry is at his side and holding his hand and following him 🥺🥺

oh!! and the next morning peter quietly moves out of bed for a shower and the second he's able to turn it on, cherry busts through the door. 'what are you doing?'

peter thinks it's obvious. he even points at the running water. 'shower.' in two seconds cherry's ripping off clothes while looking at him and pleading with puppy dog eyes. 'i join?'

peter thinks it's adorable. 'yes, you can join.'

but i think peter finally connects the dots when cherry went searching for him in the middle of the night. cherry had passed out and peter couldn't fall asleep- tossing and turning until he decided he needed to eat something so he could join cherry in dream world.

the second he sits down and drags his bowl over, cherry is sneaking up on him while rubbing puffy eyes. 'you left me.' peter jumps, then nods down at his snack.

'hungry. couldn't sleep.'

'i woke up and you weren't there. i don't like that.' peter stills as cherry climbs into his lap, wrapping arms around his neck and resting against him. 'i'm right here.'

a tender kiss on his collarbone, 'i just like being with you all the time.' and for the first time since it happened, 'can we have sex again?'

ding, ding, ding. peter got cherry right where he wanted.

'what, right now?'

'no.' cherry inhales him, there's a minor correction. 'yes. but no. i can wait.' peter promises he can do it after he finishes his ice cream. suddenly, cherry is aware of what he's eating and may or may not be hinting at getting him to share.

'i feel itchy when you're not around me.' it's spoken around a mouthful of chocolate chip cookie dough, peter's eating around all the cookie dough pieces so cherry gets one in every bite.

'is that new?' he knows it is. he hates that he's happy for it.

'yes. if i could, i would live inside your skin with you.'

'i'm looking past that and i'll consider it cute and not creepy.'

'thank you.' another bite, cherry follows up by asking him why she's like that. peter tells her it's something to do with chemicals and brains- it's mostly blocked out. peter knows the answer for everything.

'peter?'

a tight hug. 'i'm really glad i chose you.'

peter returns it. 'me too.'

it might be easier to win cherry over than he thought.

#the virgin files

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ijuststareatstuffhereok89 · 3 days

Text

Four: Chickadee

You and Loki put aside your differences for one morning out of respect for your fallen pilot, but the armistice doesn't last as your next survival task is to build a shelter.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Loki sexually harasses you/ is still a dick (he pulls it out)

MASTERLIST

“I’m not touching it.”

“Neither am I.”

Ten minutes of near total silence went by as you and Loki stared at the floating body of the pilot, face down, while it made landfall. The closer it came, the more pungent the odor of death that came with it. It even appeared a bit bloated. You didn’t want to know what kinds of decay and bacteria were forming settlements in his body after a day of rotting and bobbing on the water.

“But…we have to do something,” you said quietly, unable to look away.

Loki raised an eyebrow as he put his jeans on again. “You could just roll it back out to sea.”

You gave him an insulted look. “Oh, come on! He had a life! He knew people and loved people. Can’t we give him at least a little bit of dignity if he had to die this way?”

He went to answer, but something in how your face fell rendered him silent. He looked over at the body again. “Did he have a family?”

You shook your head. “I can’t even remember his name.”

Loki held his nose high. “No royal has ever touched a body, not even in battle. Anyone who does has to be purified in a ritual that takes weeks.”

You grunted in animalistic frustration. “You little child,” you hissed, kicking up a small pile of sand in frustration. “You’re not royalty anymore, or did you forget that part?”

He didn’t answer you, and you decided to take matters into your own hands. “Fine, forget it.”

Leaving Loki in the dust, you started up the beach until you found a small cluster of hanging vines (that Loki had already plucked from by the looks of it). You began harvesting the longest ones.

“What are you doing now?” called Loki from behind you.

“I’m going to weave a shroud, then dig a grave over there,” you pointed up to where a large, low-hanging palm draped over a sand dune, providing permanent shadow to the spot underneath. “It’ll take me the whole morning to make this, so just stay out of my way if your delicate constitution can’t bear to be around a stiff.”

You didn’t expect him to reply with, “I’ll…I’ll start digging.”

It was not the scenario you pictured when you thought about how your years in the Girl Scouts would pay off one day: using your merit badge for advanced survivalism and knot work to make a wrap out of vines for a dead pilot. It was a solemn task, but it gave you time with your thoughts, which you needed if you were going to get through this emergency.

Hopefully, rescue would come. In the meantime, there seemed to be enough fruit trees and fresh water to last for seasons. You weren’t sure, but you thought you’d seen hoof tracks in the sand, which would indicate there was some form of wildlife, likely a species of boar. If you were lucky, they could be hunted and eaten.

The next major task you’d need to begin would likely be the most difficult but also the most vital after water collecting: a shelter, preferably one off the ground. After all, summer was hurricane season, wasn’t it? What would happen if one hit the island? Would there be any signs or feelings that it was coming? How high would the water go? Was it possible for the entire island to sink?

Not to mention, weather aside…what if those wild animals you thought you saw tracks for were predatory?

You needed some kind of high ground that wasn’t the cliffside. Loki sure as hell wasn’t going to help you with that. You weren’t about to share a shelter with him anyway. And yet, the limited use of his powers that he did possess would probably prove indispensable at building anything sturdy.

“It’s ready.” You were just finishing the final knots on the shroud when he announced it.

Loki was uncharacteristically serious. Perhaps having the morning to himself with a menial, physical task to complete had given him some pause as well.

He helped you move the pilot to the grave. You hadn’t noticed while weaving that Loki had also found a decently-sized stone to mark the spot. Granted, it was blank, but it was something more than a crude cross made of sticks, or worse yet: nothing.

After you worked together to place the body into the grave, you quickly filled in the hole, after which you both stood silently, staring down at the grave marker with an awkward sort of solemnity.

What did one say to their mortal enemy at a time like this? It wasn’t enough that you were stranded on a lonely island together, but now you were burying a co-worker that neither of you knew very well. It was maybe the first and only time you worked together, if only to alleviate any survivors’ guilt. You weren’t sure if Loki had any survivors’ guilt, but for the moment, you chose to take him seriously.

“In Asgard, we float them out onto the water,” Loki said in a near-whisper. “Burial is for traitors and the executed where I’m from.”

“Well, his body would just keep floating back to shore, if we set him adrift,” you said impatiently. “Not everything needs to be done your way, Oh Mighty One.”

Loki looked up at you with a dark look in his eye. “I wasn’t—must you always make it about cheap stabs at my expense?”

Rolling your eyes, you threw up your hands in exaggeration. “Well, I’m not the one who chose the topic of “How We Do It Better on Asgard” at a man’s burial, okay? Loki, you ask for it sometimes.”

“Oh, I ask for it, do I?” Loki pointed at himself. “I save your life TWICE—”

“—would you stop lording that over me??—”

“—and you haven’t even thanked me yet!”

“Oh, dear sweet Loki,” you shook your head, “I’ll write that on my list of things to thank you for later, right underneath ‘THANKS FOR NOTHING!’”

Loki disappeared after that argument. You didn’t care, as you got the feeling your shelter would get done faster without him being an annoying pest, his insults flitting about your ear like flies.

As the sun moved in its arc over the island, you drew your shelter plans in the sand. It would take days to make, especially alone, but you wanted something at least a few feet off the ground to protect you from flooding and the possibility of predatory animals. The moon had been waxing crescent the previous night, meaning high tide would be inevitable in a little over two weeks. Hopefully, you’d be rescued and a week into a lawsuit against Tony Stark at that point, but in case you weren’t, at least only Loki would be swept out to sea with a receding shore.

Eventually, you came up with a lean-to of sorts with a floor about half of your height off the ground. It would be held aloft by eight poles stuck in the sand built around a palm trunk at the edge of the forest, and the roof would face perpendicular to the beach to avoid catching any brisk ocean winds. It wouldn’t exactly be comfortable to sleep on, but it was better than continuing to be left vulnerable to the elements.

This wasn’t going to be easy. You needed to find a rock sharp enough to cut bamboo. Loki must’ve had something, for he’d made a rickety grate for the water jugs out of some thick shoots. In his continued absence, you crept toward the smoldering green embers from the fire he’d created the night before. One of the large clay cisterns of water was cooling near the makeshift fire pit, and you briefly took the time to cup some water into your hands and drink.

Sifting through Loki’s encampment, you couldn’t find any evidence of sharpened stone or knife. Dammit! It either meant he was strong enough to yank full bamboo shoots out of the ground, or he’d taken whatever he used with him. You didn’t want to scour the island for him, but you knew you needed to start building your shelter.

Mr. Needs-To-Be-Purified…he probably went to the lagoon!

Dusk was beginning to settle, the sky was turning a brilliant orange that would normally take your breath away. An entire day went by, and all you had to show for it was a buried body, a few coconuts and mangoes from a small grove nearby you’d found, and the sandy blueprint for a shelter that you couldn’t exactly pull off without Loki. Or, at the very least, his tool.

About a third of the lagoon was in shadow when you got there. The waterfall was still falling, its roaring magnificence even larger than you remembered from the day before. The pool below it was still a blue you’d only seen in commercials for that bougie resort in the Bahamas…what was it called? Jetskis? Sandy Shoes?

Loki wasn’t difficult to spot. He stood on a ridge about fifteen feet above the water, next to the falls. Buck naked, he was staring down with focus into the crystal pool below. His hair was tied up and out of his face into a bun. He’d been bathing all afternoon; you could tell so from the way his chest shone beaded and wet in the dying sunlight. You were somewhat surprised at the lack of tattoos. You knew of the snake on his pectoral, but you’d always thought he’d have more on his back or belly, a family crest or lover’s initials or something. He just seemed the type to you.

Jesus Christ, you thought to yourself. Guess I know why the bimbo reporters all want a piece of him…

You didn’t fully reveal yourself, choosing to hide behind a mango tree. However, this didn’t exactly work…

“I see you,” Loki said, his voice somehow both low and discreet while carrying past the sound of the waterfall over to you about halfway down the lagoon. “I was wondering when I’d be graced with your presence. Come to enjoy the view, Chickadee?”

You cringed at the diminutive. He’d picked it up from Steve Rogers or Nat Romanoff at some point, and seemed to like it enough to employ it with you somewhat regularly.

You quickly recovered your dignity, stepping out from behind the mango tree and raking your fingers through your hair. “No, I’m just here to ask where you put the rock or blade or whatever you used to cut bamboo yesterday.”

“Bamboo? Rock? Hold on,” Loki said, pretending to be unable to hear you so that he could show off with a perfect swan dive into the water. The image did steal your breath momentarily as he cut through the air like a switchblade. He barely made a splash on entry, and when he did, he wasted little time floating to the surface and stroking his way in your direction.

“Asgardians are denser” my left asscheek, you thought bitterly.

“I’m building my shelter, and I need whatever you used to cut the bamboo stalks for the fire pit,” you said, trying to sound emotionless as Loki hoisted himself onto a rock, only emerging to his navel before sitting on it, posed like a merman.

He shook his head. “I regret to inform you that I did not use a rock,” he said simply, winking with a suspicious grin.

“Look, you really don’t have to make my life harder right now. Those stalks were cut evenly. I know you think I’m an idiot--”

“--I think nothing of the sort--”

“--for fucks’ sake, let me finish before I go completely bonkers!” you threw up a defensive hand. “Now, tell me, what will it accomplish for you to refuse to help me out?”

He shrugged. “Well, you did just say MY shelter instead of OUR shelter…I see no reason why I should help you if you won’t be so kind and return the favor.”

How can someone so evil be so…

Even your thoughts become distracted as Loki lifted one leg out of the water, pretending to stretch it while strategically running a firm hand up and down the back of his thigh and ass, the clearly-defined quad muscles there moving along with every flex of his knee.

“I don’t want to share a shelter with you, Loki,” you refused to cave in. “Don’t you think it’s a bad idea?”

“On the contrary, I was looking forward to waking up next to you every morning, darling!” Loki smiled, winking again and lightly slapping his butt cheek before submerging his leg again.

You turned away from him. “This isn’t a goddamn vacation,” you said behind clenched teeth. “Tell me where it is.”

“Only if we share it,” Loki insisted.

Something occurred to you just then, and you pointed an accusing finger. “You don’t know how to build a shelter!”

His jaw only dropped a little. “I certainly do! I served a military conscription along with my brother just like anyone.”

You shook your head. “No, no, you and your brother probably got special perks for being Daddy O’s kids, right? I bet you had people pitch tents for you. You only know how to build a fire because it’s your magic. You’re just as defenseless as I am, aren’t you? In fact…”

You paused dramatically, moving closer. Loki stopped you in your tracks by shifting position, spreading his thighs apart and showing off his entire package. All of it. You recoiled like a threatened cobra, even while you wanted to look. He was clearly pleased by the predictable reaction.

“...what was that, Chickadee?” he went on, casually stretching at his navel with a single finger.

“And he brings out the only tool he has left in his arsenal…the sexual harassment!”

“Excuse you, but the only tool he has?” Loki teased, spreading out even further.

“The only one that women can feel, I mean,” you snapped back. “And let THAT shrink you!”

The egocentric Prince closed his legs at your faked lack of amusement. You’d never admit to him that you were, of course, very impressed by his display, not even to yourself.

After a minute, he got to his feet, climbing out of the water, standing in all of his nude glory before you. His dong unfurled right in front of your nose. Not wanting to be at penis-eye-level for long, you also stood. Loki looked angry and focused. “You will never be fortunate enough to know what goes on in my bed,” he hissed slowly.

“I don’t care to know about your menagerie of off-world STDs, Laufeyson,” you sneered back. “Stop deluding yourself into thinking this is sexual tension between us. I know it strokes your ego, but we have bigger problems….much….MUCH bigger.” You looked downward briefly and forced a mocking laugh.

The color was beginning to drain from his face. “Stop making this about your cock and let’s just get through this! I’m building a shelter, Loki. I fucking need that rock.”

He rolled his eyes and turned his back to you, showing off the roundest, bounciest ass you ever saw. “Make one yourself...Chickadee.”

And with that, he left you in the shadow of the mango tree to stew in your anger as he went to dry off under the last rays of daylight.

“What do you mean we have to GO to Asgard??” Tony yelled in frustrated anger at the screen.

“Odin won’t have any of our Earth tech on his homeworld,” said the middle-aged woman, a representative of the United Nations named Ethel Windsor. She was the person designated to be in charge of inter-realm communications in regards specifically to Loki’s case. Tony always suspected this was because of the entire council, she was easily the most boring, snobbiest, and least relatable member. “And that includes any communicative devices.”

“Can’t you just have someone tell him we need Thor?” asked Nat, standing behind Tony.

Ms. Windsor frowned. She looked as if she’d just sniffed a fresh pie of dog shit, and it was all Tony could do from calling her a wrinkle-nosed duckface. “According to the terms of Loki’s parole, all communications between Asgard and Mid---Earth, shall be done in-person on Asgardian soil or by way of direct envoy on our soil.”

“Then tell them to send a guy!”

“I’m sorry Mr. Stark. All I can do is have Dr. Foster ask for the bifrost.”

“Yeah, where is Jane, anyway? I thought we were going off to find her,” Nat mumbled.

Tony shrugged as Ms. Windsor chimed in. “She’s on a…romantic tryst with Prince Thor, last I heard.”

“Well, that sure helps!” Tony scowled. “No word on when she’ll be back?”

“Next month sometime.”

“Fuck!” Nat whispered.

“Fine,” Tony said quickly. “Sorry to waste your time.”

“We already have people searching, Mr. Stark,” said Ms. Windsor. “They will be found.”

“Sure,” Tony said, disappointed. He spun on his heel and went to leave, but then halted to lay one more signature quip on the grouchy old woman.

“By the way, I enjoyed your work on Mama’s Family.”

Once Tony and Nat returned to the board room, Bucky stopped pacing. “Well?”

“Dead end,” Tony said quickly. “Odin’s a big doofus who won’t set foot or talk to anyone here. Guess he’s afraid video cameras will steal his soul.”

“So now what do we do?” he asked.

Tony shrugged. “Well, obviously, we go looking for ourselves,” he said simply. “But we need to make a plan and map out their likeliest location.”

Bucky bit his lip and held back from lashing out. “You said that wouldn’t be easy. What if there isn’t time? This is a goddamn ticking clock, if they’re stranded somewhere, they could starve or--”

“--well, we need Jane Foster to get to Asgard,” Nat said sadly. “She’s MIA, along with Thor, for at least another few weeks.”

“Shit!” Bucky hissed.

Steve, sitting calmly at the head of the table, looked at his friend with concern. “Maybe between the UN’s search party and ours, that’ll cover enough ground in the right area to find them.”

“Even more if we take two jets,” Tony added. “Not like we have many other cards. We’ll split up over the dateline, one team goes westward, one goes southward. You and Loverboy are Team A, and me and Nat are Team B?”

Everyone agreed. “Without the quinjet we just have two small planes. We need to designate fueling places, flight paths--”

“---hey guys?”

Bruce Banner was in the doorway to the conference room now. “Are we planning on telling the press about them missing?”

Tony and Steve immediately shook their heads at the same time. “Are you kidding? Former war criminal on the loose somewhere on the planet unchecked? The people all may like the guy, but most of the world governments still see him as a potential threat.” Steve was right.

“Hell, Germany still has him banned!” added Stark. “No, this needs to stay under wraps, because if the UN decided to revoke his parole--”

“--out of curiosity, why did you ask?” Nat added cautiously.

Bruce twiddled his thumbs and shrugged modestly. “They know already.”

Tony went pale. Bucky and Nat looked at each other with concern as Steve got up and went to find the remote for the large screen in the front of the room. Quickly fiddling with it, he turned the flatscreen on, switching the station to a 24 Hour news channel.

Sure enough, there was the headline, in bold red lettering sprawled underneath Jake Tapper’s face: Former Intergalactic War Criminal Missing with Personal Assistant. Both yours and Loki’s pictures were superimposed to Tapper’s left.

“--but some countries, particularly those in the South Pacific, are questioning the security of their people with Loki Laufeyson on the loose and without UN-approved tracking. We are now going to President Aquino in the Philippines, who is holding an emergency press conference from Manila at this hour…”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Fuck a duck.”

Bucky groaned. “Looks like our ticking clock just got faster.”

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