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slttygeto · 6 months

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SO, YOU GOT A BOYFRIEND? | GETO S.

synopsis: when watching a certain scary movie gives your husband, suguru, the perfect idea on how to ruin you.

c.w: p0rn with plot, fem!reader, reader is referred to as “good girl” “pretty girl”, mask kink (hehe<3), slight fear play, fingering, cunnilingus, dirty talk, suguru talks you through it, praise kink, strength kink if you squint, im obsessed with suguru's arms, clit smack, multiple orgasms.

word count: 2,1k

note: i am BRICKED after writing this. happy halloween hehe.

ghostface suguru! ( @aurelianamu )

In a dimly lit room, at around 10PM—it was a bit cold outside, the perfect weather to snuggle up and watch some movies. Romance movies? No, you did that last week. Action movie? Eh, you were not in the mood for that—oh, Scream. Your thumb presses on the movie before you put the remote control down and walk towards the kitchen to grab some snacks.

“Sugu, I picked a movie!” you announce as you make your way out of the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn and two drinks. Your husband marches down the stairs in a lazy manner, his long strands messily sticking out of his ponytail that he has to stop and tie it up again. He sees what movie you picked and he stands behind you on the couch.

“Scream?” he questions, hands resting on your shoulders.

“First movie, pretty iconic.”

“I don’t think it’s that scary though,” he doesn’t really say that he would rather watch something else, simply joins you on the couch and pulls you towards him with the bowl of popcorn resting on your lap.

The movie is indeed not that scary, you kept quoting some of the lines here and there, which earned you a chuckle from Suguru every time.

“No, please don’t kill me Mr. Ghostface I wanna be in the sequel,” you say in the same voice and attitude and your husband runs a hand through your hair.

“I think you’d easily outsmart him,” your husband is very supportive of you, but instead of making fun of his statement, your heart thrums in your chest when you picture Suguru in the ghostface mask.

“Really?” you look up at him through your eyelashes but Suguru is staring ahead and doesn’t notice the eyes you’re giving him.

“Yeah, they’re all pretty stupid—minus Sidney, I mean the fact that—“ your husband goes on a three minute ramble about the plot, how he appreciates the intelligence of the main character all while saying that the choice of the ghostface killers was nice. Unbeknownst to him, you were thinking of something else. Something far dirtier than intended.

“Baby,” you cut him off from his ramble and he hums in response.

“You’d be pretty hot as ghostface.” Suguru looks down on you when you say that and raises both eyebrows knowingly.

“Are you insinuating something?” To which you shrug your shoulders before staring back at the big screen in your living room, playing innocent.

“Just saying.”

You weren’t just saying, you knew exactly what you were doing. The next day, you’re sat on your bed folding laundry while watching the newest episode to your favorite podcast. You liked keeping your brain stimulated, and it distracted you from the fact that your husband was always gone for long hours during the day. But when you hear the keys rustling and the front door opening, you raise an eyebrow but don’t question it. Today’s mission must’ve been quick, you think to yourself.

“Welcome home!” you call out from your bedroom but don’t bother to get up, you knew he would come to your bedroom immediately so you keep your eyes on your computer and go back to folding the laundry.

A couple of minutes pass and Suguru doesn’t walk inside the bedroom, so you start getting a little suspicious and decide to go check on him.

“Sugu?” you walk out of the bedroom and notice how the lights downstairs are turned off. You remember leaving them on for him, so he must’ve turned them off on his way upstairs—but where was he?

“Baby, are you in the shower?” the lights in the bathroom were on but the door was closed. Suguru never walked to the bathroom first without greeting you—unless something was wrong. You put your hand on the door handle, but before you could twist the knob, a warm and rough hand covers your mouth and your blood runs cold when you’re being pulled into a different room.

You don’t have time to scream or panic, because when you’re being pinned to the wall by a rather familiar set of hands, your eyes almost bulge out of your skull when you notice the ghostface mask. You’re breathing heavily, cheeks flushed but there’s no sign of panic because you know who this is—the dragon tattoo peeking out of his shirt and the wedding band on his ring finger are enough evidence.

“Do you like scary movies?” Suguru’s voice sounds silky smooth, but the flirting connotation to it has your heart leaping out of your chest.

“Sugu—“

“Wrong,” he pins both hands above your head and his body is so close to yours that you feel the heat radiating off of it. “Let’s try again, I know my girl is smart.”

Your breath is caught in your throat, but you play along and nod sheepishly.

“Do you like scary movies?”

“Mhm,”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” He traces a finger over your cheek, and the arousal slowly starts pooling between your legs.

“Hm, I don’t know,” you reply in a similar flirtatious tone, nervousness long gone. The realization that you didn’t have to explicitly tell your husband about the ghostface mask and him buying it for your pleasure made all of this very thrilling.

“You have to have a favorite, what comes to mind?”

“Hm, Halloween,” you stick to the same script of the movie, you buck your hips towards him but he pushes a knee between your legs and pins you again to the wall. “Y’know, the one with the guy with the white mask that walks around and stalks baby sitters?”

“Yeah,” Suguru breathes out and takes in how gorgeous you look like this—how he should’ve thought of doing this a long time ago. Your eyes were blown out with lust, chest heaving in excitement all while allowing him to play with you like this. He could feel his pants tighten and his cock was slowly getting hard from knowing exactly what was coming.

“What’s yours?” you bring him out of his thoughts and although you can’t see his face, you know that he was giving you that signature charming smile that always won over your heart.

“Guess.” He purrs out and you subconsciously start grinding against his knee before giving him a reply.

“Nightmare on Elm Street,”

“Wrong,” Suguru goes off script and your lips part for a moment. You’re about to complain, tell him that this wasn’t in the movie—he lets go of your wrists and throws you over his shoulder, delivering a harsh smack to your ass, his rough hand kneads the skin as he makes his way towards your bedroom.

“Better luck next time,” he throws you on the bed and you let out a gasp when your back hits the mattress. You try to sit up, but your husband grabs your ankles and pulls you down towards the end of the bed. “Now let’s see just how fucking filthy you are,”

He parts your legs with his big hands covering the plush skin of your thighs, and you whine out when he removes your shorts to reveal your panties that had an obvious wet patch on them.

“Fuuuck,” he breathes out and lifts up the mask enough for his mouth and nose to be visible. He presses his nose against your panties and takes a whiff of your arousal, the sight is obscene and your face turns red at how pussy drunk he sounds. “Fuck, fuck—should’ve done this sooner baby, you smell so fucking good,” he gives your pussy a kiss through the fabric of your panties before his fingers remove them so messily that you let out a startled noise.

Suguru dives in between your legs and the wet sounds are dirty and make you feel even more turned on. His tongue laps at your clit, fingers pulling the hood back before spitting on it and your eyes roll to the back of your head when he sucks. Two of his thick fingers prod at your entrance, gathering some of the slick that’s pooled there before pushing a single finger inside.

“Thaaaat’s it, good girl,” he breathes out against your clit before giving it a kiss as he pushes the second finger inside. “Yeah, this pussy loves being stuffed by me—fuck, you’re so wet for me. All because of this mask baby girl?” his tone is playful but you’re far too gone to complain and just mindlessly nod.

“So drunk off of me and I haven’t even given you my cock,” he pumps his fingers in and out of you all while curling them to find that one spot inside you. He licks, sucks and spits on your clit with so much passion and when he finds that one spot, you let him know pretty quickly.

“Oh!” you gasp and your thighs shake. “S-Suguru, oh fuck--!” his wrist is burning as he keeps pumping his fingers in and out of you, and the veins in his forearm are bulging out from the sheer strength he is using to finger fuck you until you see white. His free hand comes down and presses against your stomach to apply pressure and keep you pinned down.

You make the mistake of opening your eyes to stare at him. His hand is covered in your arousal, but what truly pushes you over the edge is the fact that his mask had come down and was covering his face entirely. So when he decides to talk you through it, give you that one final push—the ghostface mask seems to intensify the orgasm tenfold.

“I know you’re a good girl, but I’m gonna need you to get dirty for me baby—there it is, theeere it is,” he sounds proud when you finally cum, and you’re loud. You whine and let out soft cries, your hands weakly push at his arm when he keeps fingering you through your orgasm.

“Suguru—too much!” you cry out and gasp when he pulls his fingers out of your soaking pussy to slap your clit.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he quickly starts to unbuckle his belt and pushes his pants enough to free his cock. The tip nudges at your folds and your husband hovers over you with his lean stature. Big broad shoulders cover your entire frame and you’re fucked out from your previous orgasm.

“I’m going in baby, let me in,” your legs spread instinctively to welcome him inside of you and you groan when you feel the sheer size of him inside you. Your hands grip at the back of his shirt, but Suguru holds himself up on his forearms so that you look at his mask.

“Yeah, that’s right—look at me baby, filthy fucking girl,” his strokes were slow but hard. His hands grab at the back of your thighs and push them before fucking into you harder. “You like it, huh?” you couldn’t even give a proper response, only mindlessly nodding when you could feel him even deeper inside you.

He pushes your knees to your chest before setting a dizzying pace. You feel so full of him, so full of his thick cock and Suguru’s eyes roll to the back of his head behind his mask every time he felt your pussy squeeze around him. His finger rubs at your clit the same way that you’ve shown him you like it, and the tip of his cock repeatedly nudges against that one spot that has you falling apart underneath him with a loud cry.

Your orgasm hits you hard and Suguru can’t hold it in any longer—he fucks into you for another minute, head buried in your neck as he groans out your name. Your pussy milks him dry, and he fills you up to the brim—to the point where you could feel him leak out of you.

You lay there breathing heavily, and you weakly reach for the ghostface mask and remove it off of your husband to reveal his sweaty forehead and flushed cheeks. He looks gorgeous like that, and you lock eyes for the first time since the entire night and you’re immediately pulled in towards one another.

Suguru kisses you with so much passion, dick still buried deep inside you and your legs stay wrapped around him as you two make out heavily under your sheets that stuck to your sweaty bodies. You pull away for a moment to kiss his forehead and Suguru closes his eyes as he melts at your touch.

“Thank you for that,” you say, so love struck that the man can’t help but chuckle at how breathless you sound.

“Let’s do it again, yeah?”

2023: all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

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#moon's works #yoooou're deaaaad and burieddd darling--AND BRICKED HELLO?#enjoy this because I did too #ghostface suguru my love #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto smut #geto x reader smut #jjk geto #jjk smut #jjk geto suguru #suguru geto smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto suguru #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut

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jonnywaistcoat · 2 months

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Hey, Horrormaster Sims. I have a wildly different question that barely relates to TMA (Sorry about that) but its about your own process. Please, if you could, can you tell me how your first drafts made you feel? I'm on the fence about writing my own thing (not a podcast, and again, not Magnus related, though I have a million little aus for that delightful tragedy you wrote, thank you for that!) But I'm discouraged by the collective notion that first drafts are always terrible, because there's no ... examples I can solidly use to help the dumb anxiety beast in my brain that tells me everyone who is in any way popular popped out a golden turd and not, well, you know. One of my friends said 'Oh I bet Jonathan Sims's first draft was nothing like what he wanted' and I got the bright idea to just. Send you an ask, since you're trapped on this hellsite like I am. Anyway, thanks for reading this (if you do) and if you'd rather ask it privately, I am cool with that. Alternatively, you're a hella busy man with Protocol (you and Alex are making me rabid, i hope you know) and you can just ignore this! Cheers, man, and good words.

To my mind all writing advice, especially stuff that's dispensed as truisms (like "first drafts are always garbage") are only useful inasmuch as such advice prompts you to pay attention to how you write best: what helps your workflow, what inspires you, what keeps you going through the rough bits. There are as many different ways to write (and write well) as there are people who write and so always consider this sort of thing a jumping off point to try out or keep in mind as you gradually figure out your own ways of writing.

On first drafts specifically, I think the wisdom "all first drafts are bad" is a bit of unhelpful oversimplification of the fact that, deadlines notwithstanding, no piece of writing goes out until you decide its ready, so don't get too hung up on your first draft of a thing, because a lot of writers find it much easier to edit a complete work than to try and redraft as they go. It's also important to not let perfectionism or the fact your initial draft isn't coming out exactly how you want stop you from actually finishing the thing, as it's always better to have something decent and done than to have something perfect and abandoned.

But the idea of a "first draft" is also kind of a fluid one. The "first draft" you submit to someone who's commissioned you will probably be one you've already done a bunch of tweaks and edits to, as opposed to the "first draft" you pump out in a frenzy in an over-caffeinated weekend. For my part, my first drafts tend to end up a bit more polished than most, because I'm in the habit of reading my sentences out loud as I write them (a habit picked up from years of audio writing) so I'll often write and re-write a particular sentence or paragraph a few times to get the rhythm right before moving to the next one. This means my first drafts tend to take longer, but are a bit less messy. I'm also a big-time planner and pretty good at sticking to the structures I lay out so, again, tend to front load a lot of stuff so I get a better but slower first draft.

At the end of the day, though, the important thing is to get in your head about it in a good way (How do I write best? what helps me make writing I enjoy and value? What keeps me motivated?) and not in a bad way (What if it's not good enough? What if everyone hates it? What if it doesn't make sense?) so that you actually get it done.

As for how my first drafts made me feel? Terrible, every one of 'em No idea if that's reflective of their quality, though, tbh - I hate reading my own writing until I've had a chance to forget it's mine (I can only ever see the flaws). I suppose there's theoretically a none-zero chance they were pure fragments of True Art and creative perfection, but Alex's editing notes make that seem unlikely.

#writing advice #rambling #first drafts #gotta say not mad on being called a horrormaster #feel like ive a ways to go yet #horror journeyman maybe

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daenysthedreamersblog · 3 months

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ONLY ANGEL

she's gonna be an angel, just you wait and see

when it turns out she's a devil in between the sheets

and there's nothing she can do about it

summary: you've been 'betrothed' to felix ravinstill since before he could remember, and as that official engagement day draws closer coriolanus is tired of pretending you don't belong to him

parings: academy!coriolanus snow x academy!reader

warnings: MDNI! swearing, mild violence, infidelity, smut, thigh riding, fingering, oral sex, p in v sex, lil exhibitionist kink, mild daddy kink, breeding kink, discussion of murder, reader is a huge slut for coryo, coryo is also a slut for reader, idk probs some more that i forgot

notes: this one was fun :) hope u enjoy!!!

Felix Ravinstill was his natural born enemy. He remembers deciding it when he was younger watching your small hand hold Felix's even though neither of you knew what it meant, he remembers it settling into his bones that very first day at the Academy when Felix had his arm around your waist and you had turned to look at Coriolanus, a small smile on your lips, a cherry sucker in your teeth as you spoke with the voice of a candy coated temptress, "Hi Coryo."

He hated Felix Ravinstill for having you, always had, always will. Today, he especially hated him. It was an ordinary day, most of the students crammed in the academy library to work on their most recent assignments. That's why he was there, stack of books next to him, mindlessly staring at a blank sheet of paper. He could hear the rest of his table too loudly to focus, hear as Festus made some crude joke, listen to how Arachne told him off, as Felix's hand was making its way over to you.

You.

Sweet, pretty thing you. He didn't understand what you saw in Felix enough to let him touch you, nor anyone at that table. But that was the only reason he truly hung around that crowd of elite children, so he could slither in closer to you.

You.

With your cherry sucker rolling between your lips, Felix's hand around the back of your chair as you leaned back the top buttons of your uniform shirt undone, sweat glistening slightly along your chest. It was a hotter fall day, the AC not working in the library, but he didn't mind, not with how revealed it made you. He glanced down, his pants uncomfortably tight as he imagined what your sweat would taste like. He sighed readjusting himself glancing up to see you looking at him. Felix was looking down at a book Festus was showing him as Arachne scribbled something down on a sheet of paper.

You pushed it into your cheek, tongue peeking out at the movement, your fingers dancing on the edge of the white stick. His eyes darkened as the wicked smile played on your lips, he knew you did things like this on purpose; sweetest torture one could bear. He palmed his hard cock, eyes quivering with the little bit of relief it gave him and all he wanted was it to be your hand rubbing him. He wanted to drag you by your hair and slam you on this very table in front of everyone and shove his co-!

"Coriolanus." Arachne Crane drawled .

He blinked up at her, the whole table now looking at him. "Yes?"

"Are you coming to the orientation event tonight?"

The event. The first event of the school year where the Academy stuffed all its students in a room to kick off the start of the year. "Of course." He nodded. "I have to give a speech for the underclassmen." And there would be food, and probably you.

His eyes met yours for a moment as your cheeks sucked in to roll the sucker back the other way. "Always the overachiever Coriolanus." Felix joked his fingers toying with the collar of your shirt and he fought the urge to snap his wrist.

He watched as you popped the sucker out of your mouth, lips a shade redder from it, and he knew if he licked into your mouth he would taste the cherry.

Felix Ravinstill's days were limited.

He knew it would go well, his speech, it was never what he was worried about, he was top of the class for a reason, he knew most of the students didn't care for being spoken to, but he knew once he saw you it would be over for him. He knew you were out there somewhere, maybe listening to him, maybe with your stupid boyfriend's hand around your waist.

And you were, staring him down while your lips wrapped around a strawberry.

He hid his throbbing erection behind the podium.

He wanted to wrangle your neck sometimes, wanted to curse the blood pounding in his cock as he watched you drop the fruit carcass onto your plate and lick your lips. He cleared his throat, his skin too hot, trying to avoid looking to see you pick up another one.

The words felt useless and he forced himself through it letting your eyes bore into his, letting himself press his cock against the podium just to ease the pressure.

You picked up another, taking another bite a little bit of juice sliding down your chin and he fought the urge to run off this stage and lick it off, to suck your chewed up fruit into his mouth. You took your hand, wiping it off your jaw, and sucked it off your own fingers.

He wondered how your mouth would feel around his cock, how warm and soft your tongue would be against him. He wanted to fuck his cock deep down your throat until you gagged, drowning in his cum.

He cut his speech short, getting to the point to get off the stage. He busied himself with food to avoid thinking of you even though that was impossible. He would stay for an hour, eat, drink a glass of posca, and then head home before he shoved a plastic knife into Felix's throat.

You all knew each other, grown up together, and it was always set in stone that you would marry Felix. It was something older families had set up before either of you could talk. You two were always together after that, and he kept you on his arm like a pretty accessory. Coriolanus figured you probably felt indifferent about the whole thing, he had never been able to really ask you about it, and you never gave him straightforward answers if you didn't want to.

He turned finally seeing you across the room. It was cruel of you really to wear a skirt that short in front of him and have Felix's greasy fingers pawing you. A skirt he wished he could push up and bend you over in front of your stupid boyfriend. You would let him too, he knew you would, it's what bothered him the most.

Your eyes met his and held them as you took a sip from your glass eyes burning into his over the rim. You turned, whispering something to Felix, motioning to your cup, and peeling off of him walking straight for Coriolanus.

"Hi Coryo." You smiled brushing past him to where all the food was being kept along the table setting your half eaten fruit down. He loved the way you said his name, how it rolled off your tongue like golden honey.

"Hey." He sipped on his drink.

You refilled your cup, "Your speech was nice."

"Not too boring?" He joked as your body turned to face his.

You smirked against the rim. "I don't think your boring." Your lips were still red from the strawberry and Coriolanus wanted to taste that sweetness, you're so close he can smell it off of you. He clenched his fist instead. "You're the most interesting man I know."

Man. You had said man as if your loser boyfriend wasn't 20 feet away no doubt watching this whole encounter. Coryo leaned down a little closer, "I don't think Felix would like to hear you say that."

You fucking shrugged, "Then he won't." You turned your hair brushing his chest at the movement. "Bye Coryo."

This was the game the two of you played, you would make your eyes, say little comments, accident brush into him, and then you were gone leaving him achingly hard.

You were walking away hip swaying as you walked. You were trouble.

You were his trouble.

Sweet, irresistible you who was forced to leave ten minutes later by your boyfriend leaving Coriolanus to steal your plate of half eat fruit simply to taste your leftover spit and take a long walk home alone to go over what needed to be done.

"Trouble in paradise it seems." Clemensia slid down into the seat across from Coriolanus motioning to you and Felix, upset expression's on both of your faces. "Daddy must have picked out the wrong ring."

Coryo furrowed his brow, "Ring?" He knew it was coming soon, but he'd thought he'd have time to climb his own ladder to take you from Felix by right.

“Oh you haven’t head the news?” Clemmie cocked an eyebrow a sly smile on her face. “They’ve been ring shopping, or their parents have been. They'll be engaged by the end of the year.” She chuckled peering over at the two of you. “He’ll head off to University and she’ll be at home getting fat with his child.”

The food on his plate went sour. “What?”

Clemmie rolled her eyes, “Her father is pushing hard to set the marriage in place. He wants his daughter to be First Lady of Panem, and he is President’s Ravenstill’s direct heir.”

Coriolanus Snow, future President of Panem, I salute you.

Well if your father wanted you to marry the president, he was selling you to the wrong son.

He pushed his food around watching you storm away from Felix. And because he didn't like to waste food, nor look that suspicious he finished his lunch. He waited a few minutes, excused himself, and he was on his feet following where you ran off too.

He looked for a while finding you deserted at a lone table in the library.

"Hey." He said softly to not spook you.

He watched you slowly look at him expecting red eyes and tears, but instead your expression was blank another sucker in your mouth. "Hi Coryo." You still said his name so sweetly like the sugar from your candy laced your vocal cords.

"You alright?" He stopped in front of you.

"Yeah." You sighed rolling it along your teeth. He wanted to ask why you were arguing with Felix, if you truly enjoyed his company, or was this one big farce to appease your family. Instead he stared at you waiting for you to fill in the gaps themselves. You wouldn't, you never did, you never liked to reveal your cards, and he could only assume the argument had everything to do with postponing the engagement and nothing about a ring. You only cocked your head to the side hair falling over your shoulder. "Did you need something?"

He did, desperately. And he was tired of denying it to himself.

He walked over, pushed your chair back and settled his hands on either side of the chair's arms, towering over you. "Where do you get all those?" He asked finger bouncing off the stick.

You smirked up at him your knees sliding between his thighs, "My daddy." He was hard. He felt his pants fighting with his cock as he stared into your eyes. "Do you want one?"

He was sick of this game you played, and he was running out of time.

He didn't answer, but his lips parted as he reached forward and pulled the one from your mouth. He thought you were sick of the game too because you let him, let him slide it off your tongue, watching the trail of spit still attached, and into his own mouth. He pushed it past his lips feeling his cock twitch as he finally tasted that sticky sweet sucker you always had on you. "Cherry."

"Hmm." You had a smug smile on your lips as you stared up at him and slowly he felt your legs begin to part between his own. He glanced down, glanced down as your uniform skirt began to ride up bare thighs. He wondered if he reached his hand under there if he would find you naked and drenched. He thinks knows he would.

"Your boyfriend will be upset if he finds you like this." He says leaning down a little closer to you.

You feign innocence. "I'm not doing anything."

You settle into the chair more you shirt collar widening as he views the dainty gold necklace around your neck with the letter 'F' on it. His fingers go to it, tracing the letter, then he's trailing up your neck tilting your face up more by your chin. He wants to strangle you with it. "Do you enjoy teasing me angel?"

"Do you enjoy getting hard by it?" You ask back and he shoves your sucker deep into his cheek to grid his teeth. Your eyes go to the bulge in his pants.

His hand tightens on your jaw, "Let me come over."

"My daddy won't like that." You shake your head.

His cock throbs. "I don't care."

Your hand splayed against his chest as you sit up more, "Why do you want to come over so badly?"

"You know why," His fingers dig into your skin fighting the urge, forcing restraint into his body.

You move forward more your face inches from him, "Do I?"

"Because you want me to." His eyes flicker around your face. "That's why your always making those eyes at me hmm? Rubbing against me like a bitch in heat?"

Your hand goes to his wrist to pull it from your face, and then your dragging it down between your legs. He can't look away from your face, not as you trail his hand up your thighs to brush his fingers against your soaked pussy. He was right, you weren't wearing anything under your skirt and he knew it was just for him, and him alone. "I can't help it." You pout rubbing his knuckles against your folds. "You make me so wet all the time Coryo."

He curses as you shutter when his fingers bump against your throbbing clit and he losing the battle of self control. He wants Felix to find you like this, find you screaming out for Coriolanus as you cum. Instead he runs his hand along your arousal one last time and straightens up, "Let me walk you to class."

You watch with a flush on your face as he sucks your wetness off his fingers, letting it mingle with the tart cherry of your sucker still on his tongue. He's surprised you don't force him to give it back before Felix's sees. "Okay." You say standing up and he sees your own wetness sliding down your thigh. You let him tuck your hand into his arm so he could walk you out and back towards class. "I think I'll sit with you today if you don't mind." You tell him as you cross the classroom's threshold together. He's not surprised after the earlier argument you seemed to be reeling from.

You take the seat on his left when you usually sit a row down with your stupid boyfriend. And when said stupid boyfriend walks in later a glare settles in his gaze watching him look between you and Coriolanus who still sucked on your candy. Felix grumbles, but sits down anyways with no more fuss, Coriolanus chuckled silently to himself. You don't speak much more to Coryo, just mindlessly doodle on some paper with you head resting on your hand.

But then class starts, and your knee knocks into his.

At first he thinks it's an accident, but a couple minutes later you do it again leaving your leg to rest against his. He wants to reach out, rub his hand up you thigh to bury in your cunt. He wants to watch you squirm and fight the noises he was pulling from you. He wants to make you cum a row behind your boyfriend, and you would let him.

He knew why Felix kept such a tight leash around you, if this was how you behaved off of it.

By some form of grace or luck of whatever watched over Coriolanus Snow, the class assignment required partners. He usually would partner with Clemensia, but it was too good of an opportunity to pass up as he turned to look at you, an expecting glint in your eye, "I'll come over tomorrow night?"

You only laughed a little, but you didn't say no. And he watched as Felix came stumbling up from his chair to grip his hands against the edge of the table where you sat like the desperate swine he was, struggling for scraps. "Come over, we can work on it together."

You frowned sweetly, almost looking truly apologetic. "Oh I'm sorry. Coryo already asked me to be his partner."

Felix's angry eyes burned into Coriolanus, "We're always partners though." He leaned forward to whisper. "If this is about our argument earlier I can just..."

"No." You patted his shoulder. "Of course not, but really I can't say no to Coryo now that would be awfully rude."

"I'm sure Clemensia needs a partner." Coriolanus added. "Sorry Felix."

Felix only motioned for you to get up so he can take you home. You stood up and smiled down at Coriolanus, "Bye Coryo."

He watched you walk away wetness still glistening on your legs, the taste of it still on his tongue.

He arrived five minutes sooner than he was supposed to. He knew your parents were home, and wanted to impress them, wanted your father to realize how much better than Felix he was, it wouldn't be a hard task. He knocked, his hand lying limp at his side waiting for someone to answer.

It was your father.

He was a wealthy man, not as wealthy as Strabo Plinth, but enough. It was all about where he had put his money during the war, investing in the right places, unlike the Snows. You kept up with the league of elite children in school, you belonged there in the thick of it all. Snow did too, but he had to work harder to keep that image and he hated that that was the only thing keeping him from you.

He reached a hand out to shake your father's hand, “Coriolanus Snow.” He introduced.

“I know.” He offered a tight smile as he shook Coriolanus’s hand. “She told me you were stopping by to help with some…assignment.”

He nodded. “Yes, sir.”

But your father never moved as he took back his hand, never invited him inside leaving Coriolanus to stand awkwardly in the door frame. “Daddy.” Your sweet voice piped in shoving past his tall frame to open the door more. “Stop scaring him.”

Daddy. It sent a cool chill down his spine as you stared up at your father. “I’m not.” He held up his hands, “ Just wondering why you need help in school in the first place.”

“It’s a group assignment.” Coriolanus added as your eyes flitted up to him. “We got paired together.”

“Oh,” You father relaxed stepping away from the door. “You can work a the table then.” He motioned to your dining room table.

You walked away from him leaving him to follow you into your home and close the door. “We were actually goi-!”

“No bedroom.” You father shot at you without even looking as he disappeared into your home.

You sighed finally turning around, you motioned to the table, “You can set your stuff down here.” You instructed. “I’ll be right back.” You left, no doubt going to gather all your school work from your room. “Are you hungry?” You asked once you returned with your piles of books and papers. You were wearing one of you cute little plaid tweed mini skirts that hugged your thighs and he knew you weren't wearing anything under it.

“I ate before I left.” He lied.

“You can stay for dinner if you want.” You sat down next to him your leg sliding against his. He knew you did things like that on purpose just to touch him, just to drive him insane as your perfume wafted into his nose. He began to protest, he wanted to stay, if only to convince your father he was the better man. “Stay, please.” You set your hand on his wrist as you smiled.

He nodded. “Okay.”

The two of you did get to work after that as he educated you through what was needed for the assignment, your shoulder against his as you watched what he wrote down. Sometimes he truly thought you never payed attention, maybe you thought you were too pretty for school and it wasn’t needed. You were too pretty for it. You didn’t need it. He knew your father had set you up with someone wealthy to ensure you have a long profitable life without having to work for it. Yet, here you were working towards it anyways. He admired it for a moment, but your hand fell on his thigh and he knew he would end up having to do the whole assignment by himself.

He didn't mind as he listened to the quietness of your house. You glanced up at him, and he met your eyes realizing how close your face was, and he knew what you wanted as you bit your lip. "Does your daddy know what a little slut you are?" He whispered.

"No." You breathed slinging your leg over his thigh to straddle it.

His hands went your thighs, "Then you better be quiet angel." He glanced down as your skirt rode up your thighs your bare cunt pressed against the meat of his leg, he felt your wetness seeping through. He leaned back, watching as you rocked your hips against his thigh. He took a second, just one second, to enjoy the feeling of your body against his, enjoy the fact you were riding him, getting off to him, then he was sliding his hands up your bare thighs to wrap around your body. You were so soft under his touch like you had bathed in rose petals. His fingers dug into your waist forcing them to roll against him harder and you made a small noise from the back of your throat.

"Felix can't get you off can he?" You whine as your clit rubs against him, the sweet friction of it all making your head fall back slightly, "No he doesn't know how to handle you does he?" He stared up at you, at your open mouth, and he runs his hand down your hair. "That's why you came crawling after me." You grind against him faster chasing your own high as your hand goes to his pants palming his hard cock through his pants.

You're such a whore, he knows that about you, he knows you hide it so fucking well and yet here you were, fucking his thigh, hand halfway down his pants when your father could come find you any second. It makes him want to slam you back on the table and sink his cock into your wet heat just for him to see, just to prove he was the man of this house, of you. "Coryo." You moan out quietly and he thinks its the sweetest way you'll ever say his name. You slid your hand down his cock. He groans out taking in the sight of your hand working him, swirling your hand around the shaft pre-cum leaking out of the tip.

He wants to bury his face into your mouth, your neck, your breast, but he can only watch you, watch you get yourself off on top of him. He flexes his thighs the same time you tilt yourself forward and your grip tightens on him. He stares up at your face, eyes glazed over as you grind your pussy down hard against him, lip tugged between your teeth pumping his cock at the same rhythm as your body. He feels you clench your thighs and soon enough you cum, drenching his pants with your pleasure. He wraps his hand around yours to fuck your hand faster, harder, and then he's planting it against your soaked thigh to cum against you, hot white ropes of it splashing across your skin. You don't move off of him, you both sit there for a while breathing heavily against each other until you straighten up to stare down at him.

"I don't let Felix touch me." You say hands coming up to toy with the ends of his curling hair.

"Why?"

You only smile and he's never thought you looked more beautiful, sweat on your hairline, red cheeks, and his cum on your body. You glance down at the clumps of white covering your skin, and then you run two fingers through it, gathering it on your fingers, and shoving them in your mouth sucking his cum off. He's mesmerized as you groan gently popping your fingers out and licking your lips. You climb off his body to settle back into your own chair glancing down at the wetness staining Coriolanus's pants seeping down onto his skin a satisfied feline grin on your face.

Your mother came through the next second, “I’ll set the table for four?”

You smiled up at her, “Yes ma’am.”

He dined with your family, a deliciously huge meal, one he hadn’t had in a while and he wondered if your parents could smell your actions in the air. “She didn’t give you too much trouble son?”

Your father’s voice made him look up as he asked, “No sir.”

He turned to you, “Why wasn’t Felix your partner?”

“He went with someone else.” You shrugged pushing your food around.

“I’ll speak with him.” Your father said.

“Daddy no.” Coriolanus shifted in his seat at the whine. “Please don’t.”

Coriolanus cleared his throat watching both eyes snap up to him. “I asked to be your daughter's partner for this assignment, and she was too kind to tell me no.”

Your father relaxed as Coriolanus had saved you from some lecture. You gave him a sly smile as your mother chimed in, “I made apple pie.”

After desert, and a minor interrogation from your father about his plans after The Academy, you walked him to the door. He didn’t like that your father felt the need to exert his power over him. In all honestly he didn't trust your father's intelligence if he thought Felix was a good option for you. You stepped outside with him closing the door behind you. You leaned against it staring up at him biting your bottom lip. He planted his hand next to your head towering over you.

"Are you gunna kiss me goodnight Coryo?" You tilted your face up for him.

"I don't think Daddy would like that very much." His hand comes up to your chin.

You smirk, going onto your toes to brush your lips against his. "Oh I think Daddy will."

He attacks your mouth tasting the sticky sweetness that was you, always would be you. The taste of apple is still on your tongue from your mothers pie, apples and cinnamon everything that was nice layered your lips as he licked along it feeling you part your mouth for him to slip inside. His hands were in your hair pulling you closer as you braced your hands on his chest melding your lips against his. He swept his tongue into your mouth meshing it with yours. He yanked your head back to stick his tongue down your throat feeling your back arch so your breast press against him, and the salty remnants of his cum lace your molars. He nips at your bottom lips your moan vibrating through him as he sucks and tugs on it until he knows it will bruise. Then he pulls back, "Are you going to let me fuck you angel?"

You give him a breathy laugh, "See ya, Coryo." Then you disappear back into your home.

By the time next week hit you were back in your normal spot next to your boyfriend. It shouldn't have surprised Coriolanus, he knew you were just rebelling against the mold your family had forced you into, and he just happen to enjoy letting you use him.

But you turned around, that cherry sucker that tasted so good between your lush lips, and you would smile.

"Hi Coryo." You said it like you had a secret only he knew and he was sometimes forced to jack off in the men's bathroom just to take the edge off. Just to avoid wanting to fuck you right then and there in front of the whole class, and he knows you're waiting for the day he finally does it.

As he tucked himself back into his pants exiting the bathroom you were standing there, back against the opposite wall watching him. Your eyes met and he only leans his shoulder against the door frame of the bathroom. "Felix is mad at me."

He looks you up and down, "Why?"

"Because I told him you were coming over tonight." He chuckles to himself, your eyes studying him as he walks over to you.

"I am?" He asked as you trail your fingers up the buttons on his shirt.

You frown, "I'm needy."

He scoffs, "I hope that isn't the reason you gave him."

"Please," You whine your hand running down his arm to guide it to the middle of your skirt and he can't help himself, even your begging is sweet.

He guides his hand up your bare thighs, your soaked cunt greeting him like it had missed him too. "You need me that bad hmm?" He runs a hand up your center watching you tug your bottom lip between your teeth. He leans his head down taking your lip between his own teeth and sucking on it tasting that lingering cherry sugar as he pushes two fingers into you. Your mouth parts in a gasp as you part your legs more for him. "Does your boyfriend know his girlfriend is a dirty whore? Fucking soaked for me all the time?" You tilt yourself forward sucking in his hand deeper as he curls up against a sweet spot your quiet moan echoing around the empty hall. "You want someone to find us don't you, you want them to see what a fucking slut you are for me."

"Coryo." You whimper nails digging into his shoulders and he hopes you mark his skin forever. He presses his forehead to yours feeling you pant against his face as he presses his palm to your clit.

"That's right." He grazes his teeth along your jaw as he fucks you faster with his hand. "Call out my name when you cum angel." He growls out, "My angel." Because you were, his, he knew that long ago, remembering glaring at Felix when you all were children and he had his arm around you when it should have been Coriolanus. His tongue lolls against your damp skin of your neck and your hand twist in his hair as he pulls your leg up more around his waist.

It's a test of restraint to not wrap your legs completely around his waist and sink into you, to take what is so rightfully his. Instead he shifts his hand, thumb pressing into your clit to listen to your mewls, to the sound of his wet fingers dipping in and out of you at a brutal pace. He sinks his teeth into your neck rolling his tongue along the mark he knew he was giving you, and you love that it will be there.

He feels you clenching around his hand as you moaned out his name cumming against him. Your chest hits his with every panting breath as he slowly lifts his head to gaze down at you, hair slightly disheveled, cheeks flushed, blissfully dazed out from the orgasm he gave you. "I'm making cookies."

Of course you were, he groans as he presses his face into yours capturing your lips with his own hand still buried inside of you. "What kind?"

"Chocolate chip." You smirk against his lips. "I'll let you lick the spoon."

You opened the door for him this time and he wanted to yank you from the frame to run away with you forever. You wear wearing a pretty black minidress with a white long sleeve underneath it, an apron covering you, flour splattered across your cheek, and a pink ribbon tied your hair at the base of your ponytail. It's like you worked so hard to persevere girlhood and innocence to hide the adultery lurking under your skin.

"Hi Coryo." You batted your eyelashes at him as you opened the door for him more to come inside.

He did love the sound of you closing and locking the door for him, "Where's you father?" He asked watching you walk in front of him.

"Working late." You replied leading him towards your kitchen waving a hand around. "My mother is off doing something unproductive."

He leaned against your marble island watching you throw a cup of sugar into the large bowl, "They left you in here all alone?"

You chuckled, "I'm not alone, you're here with me." You cracked an egg your eyes glancing over towards his, "Do you think your parents would have liked me?"

Coriolanus looks you up and down. He thinks they would and maybe in a perfect world where he wasn't an orphan your father would have wed you to Coriolanus. "I could never take you home to mother in a dress that short." He smirks as you slowly begin to stir the batter. He sometimes was surprised Felix let you leave the house if this is how you acted, how you dressed.

"Oh yeah?" You pop your hip out a little.

He straightens up stalking over to you until your back was pressed to his chest, nose buried in your floral scented hair. "She would disown me for bringing home such a brazen slut."

"But her son loves when I dress like this." His hands find the hem of your dress as his fingers trace with the curve of your ass.

He plants his mouth against your neck, "Does he now?"

You push your ass back into his hard cock. "Oh I think he adores how I dress for him." His hand splays across your backside as his teeth graze the flesh of your jugular and he wants to sink his teeth in to stake his claim. "How I never wear any panties for him."

His nails dig into you because he fucking knew it. "All for me." He repeats sucking on your skin until you wince away hoping the mark is deep and purple and Felix knows it's from him.

You turn suddenly eyes flickering up to his face, "The trick is a little extra vanilla.” You motioned to the dough sitting on top of two fingers. "Try some." He wraps his hand around your delicate wrist and brings it to his mouth. He sucked in your fingers eyes never leaving yours as your mouth parted slightly the blush forming on your cheeks as his tongue swirled around your flesh. It tasted delicious, but your skin tasted better like sugar had ingrained itself into every pore. He let your fingers glide deeper on his tongue before he popped them out of his mouth.

"Hmm." He ran his tongue up the sides until all that was left on them was his spit.

You breath. "All for you." He's kissing you then, consuming your validation that you knew what he knew, you belonged to him. He taste the scoops of dough you had stolen, the chocolate and brown sugar mingling on your tongue and he adores that extra teaspoon of vanilla you added. He licks it off the roof of your mouth sucking on your tongue, and then your arching into him on your toes as his hands trail down your body cupping your ass as your dress rides up.

He reaches his other hand back pushing aside your large bowl of batter and then he's lifting you onto the counter loving the way he fits in between your legs. You were made for him, he knew that long ago, cut perfectly from that juicy forbidden fruit Eve ate. His hand goes to your chest kneading your breast over fabric as he slowly lowers you to the countertop spreading your legs open for him. He breaks the kiss descending down your body to peer at you decadent wet cunt. He knows you'll taste sweet down here too, his mouth waters taking in the sight.

"Oh she's pretty."

He can't help but moan into you as he licks up the center prodding your clit with the tip of his tongue feeling your hand find his blonde curls. Your feet come up around his shoulders as he passes over it gently at first savoring the taste of your arousal and knowing he would never taste anything better than you. He traces circles around it slowly feeling you squirm under his touch, hearing your pretty whines, nails scraping against his skull. He dares a glance up at you, at your agape mouth, your eyes squeezed shut as he begins to move his tongue faster.

He decides then he won't wash his mouth out tonight. He wants you stuck between his teeth forever and when tomorrow comes he hopes Felix will smell your cunt on his breath.

He tilts your hips up wrapping his lips around your clit pressing down on it with his tongue as you breath heavily beneath him. He's slithering his arm up your body squeezing your breast. "Coryo." You moan out pushing your pussy into his face more, grinding it against him. He's moving his tongue side to side, hard pressed rhythmic motions that have you a mess in his hands. Your thighs clench around him as you whimper one last time before you cum against his face. He drinks you up, everything you have to offer, lapping up what you give him as his tongue pushes into you for a moment feeling your walls spasming from your orgasm.

You yank his head up by his hair and you shoot up encasing his mouth with your own tasting yourself on his tongue as you sweep into his mouth and he groans pressing his groin into your island.

"Tell me how you like it." You pant out into his mouth teeth knocking against each other.

Coriolanus takes your expression in and he realizes, yes you never let Felix touch you, but you never touched him either. You have never touched another man besides him, saving yourself for him, and it makes him want to shove his cock down your throat even harder. He helps you off the counter onto shaky legs and your going down onto your knees in front of him. He lets you unbutton his pants and unsheathe his hard length running your hand along it.

"Put your mouth around it." He tells you as you bring it up to your lips, and you fucking lick the tip like it's one of your cherry suckers.

Then you open your mouth and wrap your lips around him sliding him inside. He always imagined what your mouth would feel like after so many times of seeing you suck on that hard little candy. It's even better than he thought. He hisses as his hips buck forward a little letting him hit the back of your throat. You bob along his cock once, twice, three times before you pop off blinking up at him with that coy little act, "You're so big Coryo."

He shoves himself back in your mouth, "Wrap your hand around it." That was all you needed to know as you worked his cock, taking him deeper, hand swirling around the shaft tongue lolling against the head. You work him faster, grip hardening around him, sucking in your cheeks as you look up at him with big doe eyes. "Fuck." He gritted out hand tangling in your ponytail to move your head against him, force his cock deeper watching the water well in your eyes, but you never stopped. "You like my cock in your mouth don't you angel? Want my cum down your throat yeah?"

You moan against him in response teeth gently grazing his skin. Your mouth too soft, too hot, hands gripping him so tightly, his hand in your hair holds harder as his thighs tighten. Your tongue sweeps out along his shaft and he's cumming, hot ropes of it shooting down your throat shoving his cock deeper to make sure you took it all.

And you did, greedily, your hand still softly gliding along him as he thrust one final time into your mouth. He wraps his finger around the ribbon in your hair and tugs it out slipping it into his pocket. You popped off, wiped your lips with your finger, and sucked it clean keeping your eyes locked with him.

His hands come around your face as you stand up. "Break up with Felix." He whispers out thumb tracing your puffy lips. He's sick of seeing you with him, not being the able to claim you in front of everyone like he wanted to.

"I have to preheat the oven." Is all you say back stepping out of his hold to go over the the oven.

He clenches his jaw, "I want Felix to know."

You shrug, your back still to him, "Then tell him." You turn after turning on your oven. "It won't change anything." You walk towards him a hand coming up to push his curls away from his face, "Unless..." You peered up at him manipulative innocence in your eyes. "You were the President of Panem."

Coriolanus couldn't get enough of you at that point, he had become addicted to your sugar sweet taste and once was never enough for him.

All it took was one little smile while you licked up the red ball of your cherry sucker, and he was pouncing on you, meeting you in the hallway every time.

In between classes he would shove you into random closets to force his cock down your throat. You two would time bathroom breaks unsuspectingly and he would have you up against the stall wall fucking you with his hand.

His favorite moments were when he hunted you down in the library pretending to read a book. You would look up with a little shy smile. "Hi Coryo." You'd purr and soon he'd have you sprawled out on the table like his own personal meal drinking your pleasure like it was nectar from the Gods.

He came over occasionally too, lying about some assignment or help with a test. Your mother always invited him to stay for dinner, and he would, of course, shove his hand inside you under the table until you came while he spoke to your father.

Felix was suspicious. It wasn't hard to be when you showed up with marks on your neck, the same neck still wearing that ugly 'F' necklace, and the pretty ribbon from your hair wrapped around Coriolanus's wrist. He would only glance back at Coriolanus, and Coriolanus would smirk back at him, but he never said anything.

Everything was wonderful.

Then one day things began to change.

"Let me fuck you." Coriolanus told you kissing your open mouth as you came down hard on his hand. He wanted to be inside you, wanted to trap you to him forever. You would let him.

Your head falls back against the wall, "No Coryo."

"Let me fuck you." He kissed you again. "Come on baby girl, I know you want to."

"I'm waiting until marriage Coryo." You unravel yourself from him fixing your skirt. He knows you're lying, "I'm a good girl."

He scoffed, "Yeah a real angel."

You sighed running a hand over your face. “My father is having Felix and his uncle over tonight.”

“President Ravinstill?” You cringed when he said it. "Why?"

"Because Felix thinks you're up to something and wants to speed things along." His jaw clenched, he was going to murder Felix and his stupid uncle. You flash him a smirk, "He thinks you're trying to corrupt me."

Coriolanus chuckled, "I don't play well with others."

You came closer, hand dipping under his shirt to rest against his bare chest. You kissed his jaw, "You play well with me, Coryo."

He waited outside your home watching through your windows as you ate dinner. You sat next to Felix, fake laughing, hand sometimes brushing his wrist with affection. It boiled his blood and he curses his father for dying, for investing in District 13 to make him poor. You were his. He should be sitting at that table with you planning your engagement.

He knew the only way he would take you from Felix was winning the Plinth Prize at the end of the year, going to University, and stealing that Presidency out from under him.

It was the only way.

He watched you kiss Felix on the cheek as him and his uncle left. He watched you arguing with your father, storming off no doubt to your bedroom. And then he was moving, sticking to the shadows until he was around your house staring up at your bedroom window. He scaled the wall ending up on your small balcony staring into your sheer curtains.

You looked so beautiful sitting at your vanity combing through your hair still in your dress from dinner.

He pushed the balcony door open quietly, but your eyes met his through the mirror. "Surprised you didn't storm into dinner earlier." You set the brush down. He took a seat on your bed raising his eyebrow, "I always know where you are Coriolanus Snow, even if its creeping outside my windows."

"Who gave you these?" He motions to the vase of fresh flowers.

"Felix." Your smile drips in sweetness. "My boyfriend."

You turned to him, "How was dinner?"

"Boring." You sighed leaning your elbows against your vanity. "He's going to propose after graduation." Coriolanus's blood heated. "The ring was beautiful though."

His eyes followed you as you stood, "I could buy you a better one."

Your hands rested on his shoulders as you cocked your head to the side. "With what money?" He glared at you. He didn't like that people suspected he was poor, let alone you.

"Would you say no if I asked you?"

"That's not up to me." You chuckled hands toying with the end of his hair. That 'F' necklace around your throat dangling in his face.

Coriolanus narrowed in on it, "I could just...kill your father, Felix, anyone that got in my way." He reaches up and rips the necklace off your neck hearing it clatter to the floor, broken.

You leaned down, nose pressed to his cheek, the words brushing his mouth in a sweet caress, "Then do it."

His hands went around your back pulling down the zipper of your dress feeling it loosen around your body until it fell around your feet. You stood up stepping out of the dress and Coriolanus looked up your body slowly, taking in every naked inch of your body. He landed on your face, "What do you want angel?"

"Even when you were a boy, you were a man." You slid onto his lap naked body pressed against him hands running through his hair. "I want a man. I want you."

He flipped you onto your back crashing his mouth to yours engulfing your lips with his own. You were unbuttoning his shirt, peeling it off his shoulders, running your hands down his bare chest. His tongue meshes with yours mouths gliding along each other as you burst open the button on his pants. He wants his skin against yours, to feel your warm softness against every inch of him. He pushes his pants down his legs until the two of you are nothing but flesh.

You capture his lips once more as his hand travels up your side his thumb brushing the underside of your breast. You blissfully sigh. He cups your breast, hushing your mouth with a harder kiss. His thumb passed over your nipple, rolling the pad along it, feeling it perk up to his touch a low whine in your throat that he swallowed up nails scraping against his skull. He moves his mouth off of yours trailing down your neck, tasting every sweet part of you until his mouth wraps around your perked nipple lavishing it with his tongue as your back arches pushing it further into his mouth. His teeth nip down on it, licking and sucking as your squirm under him.

He feels your wetness against his thigh and he shifts to run his hand along your folds. "Did you think about me fucking you all throughout dinner?" He presses a finger slightly against your clit. "Thought about all the pretty noises your Daddy would hear down the hall."

Yours eyes darken as you gaze into his. "I wanted you to fuck me during dinner; storm through my front door and take me in front of Felix and his stupid uncle."

"You're such a little fucking whore."

You smirked, "Daddy's little fucking whore."

He shoves his fingers inside you, lips parting at the intrusion. He wants to be inside you, wants to claim everything you are as he thrust his hand in and out of you, stretching you open, the room thick with the scent of your arousal and squelching sounds of your pussy. You buck your hips into his hand to meet him as his palm presses down on your clit and he already feels your walls clenching around him.

He presses his face into your chest, your heart thumping rapidly for him. You were breathless, your legs spreading open more for him as your body tightened around him as he brought you closer to your peak. He curls his fingers against that spot he knows you love and you came undone with a soft cry, clamping down around his hand, nails digging into his scalp. He straightens up admiring you. You looked so beautiful sweat forming across your chest, cheeks red, lips parted to catch your breath as you stared up at him. You simply glanced down at his long, hard length and then back up at him. He knows you're a virgin, knows you'll take his cock like a slut.

He lined himself up with your sopping entrance and pushed into you. He can't help but groan as he closed his eyes moving slowly into you, letting your tight walls adjust to him, squeeze around him. He pauses for a moment the only sound coming from either of you were broken breaths. And then he pushes in until he fully inside you. You gasp at the feeling, the fullness, as you gazed up at him.

Your pussy fluttered around him and he rolled his hips against you pulling his dick back and slamming back into. "You take my cock so well." You arched your back as he slammed into you moaning out for him, wrapping your legs around his body to pull him deeper. His mouth was on yours, a mesh of spit and tongue, your hands rooted in his hair as he fucked into you. He was kneading your breast with one hand, pushing the other into your mattress to fuck you harder. He glanced between you, watching his cock disappear into you soaked pussy, watching how well you took each brutal thrust. "Perfect fucking pussy, made just for me." He drags his teeth along your jaw as your breast press against his chest. He pressed his hot mouth to your ear, "You're fucking mine, you understand that angel?" His hips snapped against yours heels curling into his sides as you nod against him. "Not Felix's...not your fathers...mine." He growls in your ear.

You agree tilting your pelvis up allowing him to slid against that sensitive spot.

His curls spill across your face, he wants to hear you say it. "Say it."

Your brows scrunch as he slides his hand to your clit. You moan for him, "I'm yours Coryo." His grunts fill the room as he pounds into you as you cry out for him over and over again. He hears your bed knocking against the wall, the squeaking sound of the spring as it slides against the floor, neither of you care who hears it. You clamp down around him coming all over his cock squeezing him too tight.

"Gunna cum in this tight little pussy." He hisses out his thrust growing sporadic. "Gunna make you have my heirs." Your too fucked out to care as your teeth sink into his shoulder wanton pleas falling from your lips. He's spilling into you, cumming so deep inside you feeling your walls spasming around him, drinking in every drop of his seed. He thrust it further within you as your legs slowly uncurl from around him.

He pulls back to look at you his cock twitching one last time. "You have a lot of work to do." You tell him fingers twisting the curls along his face a devious smile on your lips and he knows you've never been an angel, not a day in your life.

You were the devil in a candied disguise.

"President Coriolanus Snow."

He will win that Plinth Prize. He will take you from Felix, from your stupid father, by right or by force.

He doesn't care what he has to do or who he has to kill along the way as long as he gets to have you at the end of it all.

PART TWO HERE!!

im a whore for those blonde curls

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus smut #coriolanus x you #coryo x reader #fanfic #coryo smut #coryo snow #coryo x you #president coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #daenysthedreamersblog #smut

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whorekneecentral · 6 months

Text

Only The Best For You

Kimi Raikkonen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: dad's best friend!kimi, reader is 20/21 - reader is old enough to make her own decisions, your dad isn't pleased with the gift, one mention of alcohol and one mention of death, sexual tension, kinda power imbalance, kimi gives into the intrusive thoughts, nipple play, fingering for like 0.2 seconds, one use of the word 'daddy' in a sexual way, penetrative sex (p in v), gagging, finger sucking, 'whore' used in a sexual/degrading term.

Word Count: 2,400

Author's Note: for all my dad best friend freaks and the kimi whores, this one's for you <3 -- also ignore that it's gucci in the pic but it's something different in the fic loool I couldn't find a different pic I liked.

merry smutmas series

Kimi spends the holidays with his old friends. He doesn’t forget you; bringing you exactly what you had been wishing for and you make sure to thank him.. properly.

An old L/N family tradition.

Since you were a child, your parents and grandparents allowed you to open one gift from them on Christmas eve, letting you enjoy the magic of Christmas a few hours early.

You were grown up now, in college and your grandparents had sadly passed on but your parents kept the tradition going. You had come home for Christmas break and it was Christmas Eve. Your parents have just finished dinner and you have moved to the living room.

It was yourself, your parents and your dad's best friend, Kimi. You had known Kimi your whole life practically but he was always away racing so you never saw much of him until lately, now that he's officially retired - for good this time.

"Shall we open gifts?" Your father asks, walking into the living room. He passed a glass of what looks like whiskey to Kimi, who was next to you, before sitting beside your mother.

She looks over at her husband. "Honey, isn't she too grown for that?"

Your father rolls his eyes, shaking his head. "It's a family tradition, now hush. Go pick a present."

Your mum picks first, picking one from your father that just so happened to be the new perfume she wanted. Your father was next and he picked out one from you. It's a story book he used to read to you as a kid, you had written all of your favourite memories of the two of you inside of it. You made him cry, both you and Kimi laughing about that.

"Go ahead, sweetheart." Your father nods towards the tree, you move from the couch to the floor, kneeling in front of the tree to pick out a gift.

A gift sticks out to you; red wrapping paper with little elves of it and your name written in cursive across the front of it. You pick it up, shaking it a bit to see what was in it.

It felt hard, as if it was a box. You looked towards your parents, "is it from you guys?"

Your dad looks towards your mom; she took care of all of the holiday shopping. The woman shakes her head, "it's not from us, sweetie."

The gift on your lap when you glance over your shoulder at Kimi. He gives you a small smile, so small you almost miss it.

He nods towards the gift, waiting for you to open it. You rip the wrapping paper very carefully, revealing the red box underneath; the gold lettering was cursive - Cartier.

Your jaw was already dropping, looking back at the man. "You didn't," you say and he nods again, waiting for you to open the box to see what was inside.

"Kimi, what did you do?" Your mother asks, looking over at your father. He was never one for brands or jewellery, he didn't realize that buying something there automatically was an expensive purchase.

Lifting the cover carefully, the velvet black fabric inside the box held a white gold chain, blue sapphires set along the entire thing.

If your jaw wasn't already on the floor, it would be now. "Kimi!" You turned to face the man, setting the box on the couch carefully. "You did not!"

"I did," he nods. He's always been a man of very few words; more of an action rather than words type of guy.

"What is it?" Your father asks and you hand the red box over to him for him to see.

He shows your mother as he holds the box, he doesn't realize that he's holding a little over €40,000 in his hands at the moment. "Oh Kimi, it's beautiful." Your mother gushes, handing it back over to you.

You were still on the floor, admiring the necklace in the box. "Well, turn around." Kimi says and you do, sitting just between his legs.

He reaches over to take the box from you and carefully takes the chain out of its box before you lift your hair. Kimi leans forwards and you can feel his fingers brush against your skin and his breath on your shoulders when he loops it around your neck and hooks the clasp.

"It looks gorgeous on you, darling." Your mom says, smiling at you.

Your phone's in one hand and your other hand gently touches the chain, straightening it as you admired how it looked on you. "Kimi, this is too much. It's so expensive." You whisper to him and he shrugs.

"How expensive are we talking?" Your father finally speaks, looking over at his friend.

Kimi answers nonchalantly; "Like.. €40,000."

Your father instantly sits up, his jaw hanging open. "What?! Kimi, are you out of your mind?"

"Please," he looks over at his friend in disapproval. His hand rests on your shoulder, his thumb passing over your soft skin. "She's a good girl, she deserves it."

You can't help but shift a bit when he calls you a good girl, the words hitting you right where you shouldn't. It was wrong, he was your father's friend and you were.. well, you were attracted to him. You couldn't deny it; Kimi was an attractive man and despite his lack of words, he was very charming.

"Y/n, say thank you. You can't not say it when he's spent so much." Your father tells you, and you turn around to face Kimi.

"Thank you, Kimi," you smiled at him, sitting on your knees when you reached up to give the man a hug. His arms wrapped around you, his warm hand pressed to your back. "You're welcome, angel."

Another nickname that hits you in all the wrong places.

As the night goes on, your parents head up for bed as do you. Kimi was the last one to bed from your understanding and as the house grew quiet, you tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

You find yourself sat on your bed, pjs on - a tank top and a pair of shorts with a €40,000 chain around your neck.

It was nearing 3am, the witching hours as your mum says. You find yourself getting up and heading downstairs. The initial thought was to go to the kitchen and get a glass of water but you got side tracked when you see a light coming from Kimi's room.

You knock, peeking around the space left between the door frame and the actual door. "Come in," he waves to you and you step in, shutting the doors behind you. The TV was on, a rerun of some show you couldn't quite place was on.

"What are you doing up?" He asks, glancing at his phone to check the time. "Do you know how late it is?"

"I couldn't sleep," you tell him, looking over at the TV. "Can I join you?"

He shrugs, nodding towards the empty space next to him. You quietly make your way over, sitting next to him on the bed. Kimi don't miss the way your shorts hike up when you crawl over to the empty spot; it's so wrong for him to be looking at you like that but can you blame the man? You were gorgeous and you were in his bed after all.

The two of you sit quietly, watching as the show rolls on into another episode. You unconsciously play with the chain, shifting it back and forth slowly.

Kimi looks over at you, smiling to himself; you were the picture of beauty.

"You're staring," you mumble, glancing at him. He smiles, like actually smiles. "You're beautiful."

Your cheeks are red, you hope that the light coming from the tv isn't bright enough for him to realize that just yet.

"It looks good on you," he says, "like it was made for you."

"Blue has always been my favourite colour." You smiled, glancing down at the chain. "Did you pick it yourself?"

He nods, "I saw it and thought of you, I figured you'd like it."

"I do, very much." You look over at him, Kimi smiles at you and your hand shifts from your thigh to his, rubbing along it softly. Kimi's brows furrow ever so slightly. He doesn't say anything, hoping that you'd stop if he ignores it.

You were persistent.

Your hand travels higher, about to rub over the ever so evident bulge in his shorts but Kimi catches your hand, holding your wrist. "We can't, y/n."

"Why not?"

"It's wrong," he whispers, glancing at the door - you weren't sure if he wanted you to leave or if he was catching to see if it was locked. You wiggle your hand from his grasp, Kimi lets out a small breath of relief; see, the man was stupid enough to think you were stopping.

You didn't stop. Instead, you got on his lap, straddling him with your hands on his shoulders. Kimi's hand rests on your lower back as he looks at you.

"Let me thank you properly," you whisper, lips ghosting over his.

Kimi reaches up, his lips pressed to yours but he's yet to kiss you. "You don't have too."

"I want to.. I want you," you mumbled, finally kissing the man. Your hand cupping his jaw, Kimi's hand slips under the tank top you had on and slides up your back to undo your bra but finds you don't have one on.

Kimi pushes the straps of your tank top down off your shoulders. You sat comfortably on his lap, letting him have his way with you and the man wanted one thing. He leans forward, arms wrapped around you as his lips wrap around your nipple.

“Kimi, fuck- please.” You mumble, your hand tangled in his blonde hair, tugging on it. As such as you loved the attention, you needed him.

He glances up at you, watching as your eyes fluttered shut. He groans when you pull on his hair a little harder but what's a little pain when he's making you feel good?

It was heavy, heated.

His hands on your body, pulling you over and onto him. You were perched on his lap, Kimi's hands on your ass when he kissed you again.

Not a word is spoken between the two of you and what little clothes you had on was gathered in a pile on the floor when he rolls you two over. You were flat on your back with Kimi settled between your legs.

“Please,” your hand rested on his jaw, “daddy, please.”

The pet name makes his cock twitch; it's sinful, so sinful in so many ways but he couldn't care less. You drove him mad.

His hand slips between the two of you, his fingers rubbing slow circles on your clit. Your hips lift, wanting more from him.

Kimi’s hand wandered a little lower, a finger pushed in slowly. He can feel how wet you are, wrapped around his finger and he smiles.

He moves his finger slowly, curling it. He takes pleasure in watching you, seeing how your face twists and how your body reacts to his touch.

"Please," you whimpered, "don't make me wait."

Kimi can't bring himself to say no to you.

He sits, pushing his shorts down and you get the hint, getting on top of him. Your hands grip on his shoulders, balancing yourself. Your knees on either side of his lap, Kimi's hand reaches under you to help you, the tip of his cock brushing against your clit, making your hip shift forward a bit. His free hand on your hip as you sink down onto him, his name tumbling from your lips.

You take a moment to get used to the feeling, your eyes fluttering shut as he rubs along your lower back, leaning into you to kiss down your neck.

You rock your hips forward and Kimi's head drops back, his eyes now closed. “Fuck, you’re perfect.” His hand pats your hip, “made just for me.” He tells you, your lips now on his neck - a trail of marks and sloppy kisses being left along his neck.

He pulls one of your legs up forward, pulling you down further. “Fuck,” you breathe, his thrusts faster and harder. How you wished you could scream his name right now. Kimi's hand drops between the two of you, rubbing your clit.

Your head falls back, manicured nails digging into his pale skin when he hits the spot he was looking for. He watches as you bounce on his lap, the sapphires around your neck bouncing in rhythm with you. His fingers that were previous on your clit now shoved into your mouth to muffle the sounds tumbling from your lips.

Your brows furrowed, an excited look on your face despite it all. You can feel his cock twitch in you, his lips next to your ear when he leans in.

"You've got to be quiet, angel. Wouldn't want them to catch you being a whore for me, hm?

You mumble something along an okay, your hips bucking, telling him you want more. Your tongue laps around his fingers, Kimi watches as you suck on them. There's a wicked smile on his face, his hips lifting to meet you halfway.

He lets you take over, setting the pace and using him for your own pleasure. Kimi leans forward as his lips wrap around your nipple. His tongue lapped over your nipple, biting on it softy; just enough to get you to arch your back, pushing into him.

“Come on darling,” he mumbles against your skin, now kissing up to your collarbone. Kimi's hand behind your neck to pull you down for a kiss. “Want you to cum for me.”

His arms wrap around you when you drop against him, your face buried against his shoulder, biting down to muffle the sounds. “Good girl,” he hums, rubbing your back.

Your heart beats out of your chest as you catch your breath. Kimi smiles, kissing along your shoulder. "Feel good?" He asks and you mumble something, your head resting on his shoulder.

"I take it I should spoil you more often, hm?" He chuckles, making you smile when you sit up. Kimi straightens your necklace, kissing your chin.

You shake your head and smile. "Don't have to spoil me for me to do that."

Kimi smiles at you, giving you a kiss. "Merry Christmas, y/n."

"Merry Christmas, Kimi."

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#kimi raikkonen #kimi raikkonen smut #kimi raikkonen x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 smut #merry smutmas xoxo

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authorhjk1 · 2 months

Text

Dea Romana

(Minatozaki Sana X Male Reader)

(Author's note:

Hi everyone! Thank you for patiently waiting for me! I'm done with writing my exams now, so I will be able to write more again until Juli. Since I like history a lot, the beginning got a bit longer than originally planned, but I hope you will be able to enjoy it nonetheless. I tried to make everything as historically accurate as possible, but please don't expect everything to be true.

Stay healthy! I will do my best to upload the next piece as soon as possible!)

Every muscle feels like it's burning. Your legs and arms feel heavy. Your feet barely lift off the uneven ground with every step you take.

Dried blood stains your face. Your armour doesn't look much better. The shield you are holding, has a big dent in it. The javelin in your right hand feels like it's made out of steel. The chainmail on your chest weighs heavier than usual.

"Marius!"

Your second in command shouts at you from the back.

"The women need a break!"

You sigh in annoyance. It's bad enough that you almost got your whole century killed. Now you have to delay your reunion with the rest of the legion because of those Gaul captives.

"We will take a short break."

You announce to your eighty legionaries and the twenty rebels you captured.

Spotting a small stream near by, you walk closer, while most of the soldiers sit on the ground, some are standing guard.

Taking off your helmet, you start to wash your face. The dried blood sticks to your skin. After some effort, you are just a little bit cleaner.

Another sigh leaves your lips as you kneel in place. In front of the small stream, your century in the back, looking into the deep forest.

You have lived a hard life. You were not born a Roman. Not born a free man. But you took your life into your own hands, instead of hoping for the mercy of the gods. Because gods don't have mercy. Only you can change your own destiny.

"Let's keep marching. We are almost there."

You go back to the front of the century, your men following your orders. Most of the Gaul rebels you captured are women and children. Their husbands and fathers killed by your swords and javelins.

Orders are orders. To kill or to be killed. These are the only two principles you live by. At least most of the time.

"Have you heard yet?"

Quintus asks from behind you, catching your attention. You silently wave for him to walk next to you. It's not necessarily the gossip you're interested in, but you did learn that it's important to know what is going on inside your century and the legion itself.

"Aelius fucked up some of his soldiers."

You raise your eyebrow while you keep walking. Nothing new there. Aelius is a spoiled son of a whore. He only became centurion in the tenth, because of his family's status. And he is usually unnecessarily brutal with his century.

"Reason?"

"They ate some of the extra rations we all got a week ago. Aelius said that they are meant for centurions only. Not for legionaries."

You have to stop yourself from spitting onto the muddy path you are walking on.

Aelius paints the perfect picture of the Roman nobility. Rich assholes. Nothing more. Nothing less.

"Did he kill someone again?"

Quintus shakes his head.

"But I heard that the premus pilus had a talk with him."

You let out a dry chuckle.

"All the centurions of the first cohort are the same. Do you really think he got in trouble?"

"No. But I thought you would be interested. It's not like you have very good connections with-"

"Shut it, fool."

It's not really a secret in the tenth legion that you and Aelius are bitter rivals. The two of you are the completely opposite of one another. A rich brat, who is the centurion of the third century in the first cohort. And you. The former slave, who climbed the ranks to be the centurion of the first century in the second cohort.

There aren't many ranks that separate the two of you. But making the jump into the first cohort as a former slave is nearly impossible.

Your century walks in almost complete silence for the next couple of hours. Despite being one of the most feared soldiers in the legion, you can't help but be cautious. In case there are more rebels lurking in the shadows of the large trees.

"Marius!"

The scout you send out to check the path ahead is jogging in your direction.

"We take another short break."

A light murmur of gratitude echoes through the ranks.

You wait for the young man, barely older than a boy, to reach the spot where you are standing.

"Someone seems to be traveling towards the camp. Our paths are going to cross, once we reach the small clearing ahead."

"Do you know who it is?"

"It looked like a person from the nobility. There was a carriage. And a couple of men with spears. Probably guards."

"We can't be too cautious. Titus!"

You shout for your second in command to walk to the front.

"Take your contubernia and make fast pace. I want to make sure that everything is going according to regulations."

"Yes, Marius."

The rest of the century starts marching at normal pace again, while the eight men rush ahead. The scout leading them towards the small crossroads.

"You know what's going on?"

You shake your head at Quintus' question.

"Might be a politician from Rome. Or a nobleman's wife."

"You know that that's against the law."

Of course everyone knows. It's illegal for a legionary to be married. And yet, some centurions always think that they are above the rest of the legion, when it comes to this kind of rules.

"What is the meaning of this?!"

An angry shout echoes around the forest, just as you and your men reach the small clearing.

The scout was right. A carriage, pulled by two grays, accompanied by a handful of men, armed with spears, and some servants.

An older woman is standing in front of the carriage's door, screaming at the poor Titus. Glancing over his shoulder, your optio rolls his eyes.

"Woman. Don't scream at a Roman legionary."

You make your presence known as you keep walking towards the middle of the clearing.

The servant, probably around forty to fifty years of age, looks at you with anger in her eyes.

"Do you even know, whom you are holding up?!"

"No."

You state bluntly, finally standing in front of her. Behind you, you can hear your men take their positions. Not to threaten the travelers, but to guard the area.

"Well, she is one of the most prestigious women in all of Rome."

"And what is a woman like her doing so far away from the city?"

"Visiting her husband."

You click your tongue. As far as you know, none of the centurions in the first cohort have wives. Which means, she must be the woman of a centurion, who ranks lower than you.

A smirk, which you can't suppress, plays around your lips. How are you able to enjoy a higher position than a noble in this republic?

You walk off without another word, leaving Titus in charge. There is no need to bother with this stuff. Some of the Gaul rebels fell a little behind earlier. You have to check on them. In case they are sick or badly injured.

"Her name?"

You hear Titus ask, before the woman let's out an exaggerated gasp.

"Sana Lucii."

You groan in annoyance. By Jupiter. Is this really his wife? Lucius Aelius? Just when you thought, you couldn't hate that man even more.

You despise men, who don't follow the law and rules of the republic and the legion. Of course, sometimes you can define them a little different for your own gains, but this is just breaking them.

Trying to stay calm, your fingers tap the pommel of your gladius. You don't hear a response from Titus. He must know which Lucius the old woman ment.

"Marius?"

He finally makes you turn around.

You walk back up towards the carriage, just as the door opens.

"By Bellona! What is taking so long!"

You have to say, you are amused by the woman's expression. You didn't expect her to call out for the goddess of war.

"Just doing our duty, lady."

Titus answers politely, although you know how hard it is for him to not lash out. He hates Aelius just as much as the next soldier. Especially, since he is your optio.

You are stunned, once the woman actually shows herself. Her beautiful face is slightly twisted with annoyance. Although, you would be sure that she could look like Venus herself, when she smiles.

She is wearing a turquoise stola, which also covers her brown hair. The thin material enables you to have a look at her white tunic underneath. Her skin looks flawless and pure. A golden necklace adorns her neck and collarbone. It's probably worth more than a whole year of your salary.

An image of a goddess.

"I hope we can speed up this process. I'm supposed to be by my husband's side."

Lucky bastard.

"Please. Speak respectfully with my legionaries."

Her gaze meets yours. You can feel your heart skipping a beat. Not one woman has looked as pretty as she does. Not one.

"Who are you to lecture me on speaking?"

"Salve."

Your fist meats the blood stained chainmail on your chest.

Maybe, if you behave respectfully, so does she. The army is for her protection after all.

"My name is Marius. And-"

"What's your first name, centurion?"

A cute smile suddenly plays around her lips. Maybe this will get her out of here faster.

"Gaius."

"I see, Gaius. I'm sure you have more important things to do than stop me from traveling further? My husband must be waiting for me."

If she didn't know better, Sana could swear that she caught a glint of hate in your eyes.

"This is protocol. We have to check on everyone, who approaches the camp."

"I'm a noble woman. Can't you make an exception for me?'

You don't fall for her sweet smile. You are on duty. Not even Venus herself could distract you. Well, maybe a little bit.

"Your choice. Here, or at the gate in front of even more legionaries. Like everyone else."

That last part makes her glare at you. You won this round.

Not waiting for a response, you gesture for your men to search the woman's belongings. Your Imperial legate has more than enough enemies in Rome to be cautious of. And you don't want him to end up dead inside his own camp. Even if she is allegedly Aelius' wife.

Quintus nods in your direction after going through her belongings, signaling that everything is alright.

"We will accompany you on your way to the camp. We are on our way back, anyway."

You turn around without looking at Sana again. A signal for your men to get into formation.

It feels like she stares at your back for a second longer, before you hear the door close behind you. You don't like the Roman nobility. At all. There is only one man you are willing to follow.

After two more hours of marching, your century and the noblewoman's entourage finally reach the camp's gate.

"The village, where the senior officers are staying, is right behind the camp. You can't miss it."

The older woman, who screamed at Titus earlier, still looks at you as if she is holding a grudge.

"I hope you enjoy your stay in these wonderful lands, lady."

You raise your voice a little, making sure that Sana can hear you. It drips with sarcasm and you can hear Quintus chuckle behind you.

"Vale."

With a dismissive wave of your hand, you walk past the old servant. Her shock at your rudeness visible on her face.

Already making your way past the guards, you can't hear Sana's scoff.

Who are you to talk to her like that? If she is gonna tell her husband about this, you are going to be in trouble for sure.

Sana will never be able to get used to this. She was able to decide that, immediately after she stepped out of her carriage. It took her only a couple of steps to enter the small house her husband is living in right now. But that was enough for her already.

Nothing here looks like Rome. Even the legionaries look out of place. And their shouts and the sounds of shields and stuff isn't what she hears when she is home. Sana is already missing the comfortable house with the atrium. She likes to bathe in the sun throughout the day, while sipping on a really good wine.

"You're late."

Lucius doesn't even look up from his small table as he hears his wife coming in.

"That's how you great me after a year?"

"You know how I value punctuality."

"Out of my hands. Some centurion insisted on searching my luggage. He was really rude."

Now Lucius is looking at her. Sana knows that he can't stand someone disrespecting him. And when she gets disrespected, it goes deeper. He is affected as well.

"Who?"

She can see his eyes becoming a little darker. He bites his lip, maybe trying to prevent himself from shouting.

"His name is Garius Marius. I think?"

"That son of a whore. How does a slave dare to stop you?"

Now, Sana feels shame run down her spine. If she knew that he was born a slave, she would've hit him for talking to her like that. No matter his rank, he is and will always be beneath her. Once a slave, always a slave.

"I swear to Jupiter. One day in battle, I will..."

Lucius takes a deep breath, before focusing back on his wife.

"We are eating dinner with the Imperial legate, the leader of these legions tomorrow, and the senior generals. I expect you to impress them."

"I'd be happy to, love."

Sana almost spits out that last word, but Lucius doesn't seem to notice. He sits back down, opening an envelope. She can see how his eyebrows are still furrowed. He won't let this incident pass without consequences.

Sana eventually leaves the house to explore the small town and it's market. Despite being married to Lucius, she can't stay around him for too long. She is only his wife, because of his money and connections. As soon as she can find someone better...

Sana feels a little dizzy as she steps out of the big house. Lucius told her to be on her best behavior. But that idiot was behaving the worst throughout the dinner.

She hated how calm and reserved the other centurion was, the man who stopped her. He was the lowest ranking soldier and yet, everyone listened to his advice and thoughts about future and past battles. And how is he on a first name basis with the imperial legate? And why is Lucius too incapable to enjoy the same treatment? How can he do worse than a slave?

Sana holds onto the wall, standing right next to the entrance. Suddenly, two men walk out the door. They don't see her because it's dark. She tries to find out who they are. The first one is a little taller, while the second has broader shoulders and looks more muscular.

"We can't do this forever, Gaius. We need a plan to wipe him out. I expect you to help me with that."

"Of course, Gaius."

Sana almost groans in annoyance. Of course it's that Gaius Marius. And the other one is the Imperial legate. Gaius Julius Caesar.

"Rome is an empire. We will defeat Vercingetorix sooner rather than later. His supporters will crumble soon."

"You did a good job today, centurion. You've proven once again, why you rightfully carry the name I gave you. Gaius Marius Antonius."

Sana assumes they are talking about some barbarian leader. But Caesar gave him that cognomen? She can't help but wonder what he must've done to be called "priceless".

"You know the political situation in Rome. The more time I waste conquering Gaul, the more powerful my enemies become."

"I swear to Mars. I will cut down anyone who tries to oppose you, Gaius."

She sees Caesar put a hand on the centurion's shoulder.

"It's only a matter of time, until you will be one of the Tribuni angusticlavii, leading the tenth legion into battle. And I will make sure, you will eventually become a rich senator."

Sana has heard enough. It's so disgusting to her. A slave becoming a senator. She is working so hard to become the most powerful woman in Rome. And with that in the whole empire. How can that lowlife become something better than she herself? Sana either needs to push Lucius further up the ranks, or she needs to find someone, who can match Marius' new found status.

Sana groans in relief, when she can finally leave the small village. It's not like someone forbid her to leave, but there just wasn't something to do in and outside the village. What was she gonna do in a forest? A very dangerous one at that?

But now, she heard of a big market place around two hours away. Sana is still looking to buy some oils and pottery. She could do that in Rome of course, but she is hoping to find them cheaper in their land of origin.

Looking out of her carriage, Sana leaves behind the village and the big camp right next to it. The constant noise made her head spin. Not that Rome isn't loud, but this is something else.

After about an hour, Sana hears a troop of men marching in front of her. She became familiar with that sound after a few days. She doesn't look outside, despite being curious. Why would a century be here? The battles would take place in the opposite direction. Right?

Sana hears how the carriage passes the back of the century. The heavy steps of the legionaries kick up some dust. Her old servant looks outside, curious herself.

"It's him again."

The older woman grimaces, before letting the curtain drop back into place.

"Who?"

"The man who stopped us a couple of days ago."

Sana's attention is now on the men outside. She remembers the conversation you had with Caesar.

"Really?"

She pretends to be cold, not wanting to get caught. After having seen you around a couple of times, the young noble woman is unsure on how to feel about you.

Yes, you are a former slave. A peasant. But you are also a great centurion. A trusted man to Julius Caesar.

Despite being not the highest ranking officer, Sana did notice how the other men look at you. She catches an occasional whisper of your brave actions in battle. She sees the men greet you with almost too much respect. Even the other centurions seem to want to be on your good side.

Maybe that's what Sana has to do too. In order to further climb up the ladder. It is risky. And it's still a long time in the future. But if Caesar can really make his ambitions reality, you will be one of the first people who benefit from it. And if Sana plays her cards well, she can benefit too.

For a moment, she wonders what a man like you would need. Something she could have to bargain with. Money? You probably earn quite a lot already. Especially compared to your earlier environment. Land? You will get that too, if you stay long enough in the army. A wife? You are a soldier. You are not allowed to be married.

As Sana is still pondering on what to do to convince you to help her gain more power, she gets closer towards the front of the century.

And it's not like she doesn't have influence. She could maybe even get you a promotion into the first cohort. Of course without her husband finding out.

Sana draws back the curtain a little with only one finger. Just a few meters ahead, she can see you walking.

Your helmet is decorated by a big crest of red horse hair. The back of the helmet and the rest of your armor shimmer in the light of the sun. She remembers your first encounter. Your armor was full with blood, indicating that you were more than able to fight a battle.

You turn around as you hear horses behind you. It wouldn't have been a surprise. One of the auxilia officers could be taking his men out to train.

Surprised at the sight of the carriage, you catch a glimpse of the passenger. Her eyes meet yours, a big golden ring decorates the finger that holds back the curtain. You could swear you see a small hint of a smile play around her lips.

"Salve."

You great her by hitting your armored chest with your fist. Not because you like her, but out of politeness.

"Salve, centurion."

Her passive aggressive mentioning of your rank indicates that she is still not over that incident a couple of days ago.

"Are you visiting the market?"

"I am. I suppose you are not here to buy pottery?"

A mocking smile replaces the earlier one.

"It may sound unbelievable, but I'm not."

A cute chuckle escapes her mouth.

"Well, I hope you enjoy this beautiful day."

Is she still mocking you, because you are on duty? You are not sure, but you can see her lazily wave goodbye as the carriage drives past you.

"Don't get too close to her. She is only gonna be trouble."

You look at Quintus.

"I'm merely being polite. I don't need trouble with angry nobles. At least not now."

"By Jupiter. One might think you've become a responsible, grown man now."

"Fuck off."

You raise your hand, but Quintus ducks away, avoiding a potential slap.

Only listening with one ear to the conversation next to you, you scan the market for the young noble woman. Despite her attitude and the fact that she is married, you can't help but glance at her occasionally. Plus, the market isn't as safe as it might seem. Cunning merchants, thiefs and rebels might roam the place, ready to strike at any moment. And being a beautiful Roman woman makes her one of the most desirable targets right now.

"Listen, Roman! I barely sell anything! How do you expect me to pay your unreasonable taxes?!"

"Shut it."

You turn back to the stall holder. Titus' and his conversation got heated.

"We are not hear to argue. We are here to collect taxes."

The man grits his teeth.

"I'm telling you! I don't have anything to give away!"

The other people around you look at the scene, before walking past. Only you and a couple of legionaries are here. The rest of your century is patrolling another village nearby and the rest of the market, making sure you are not getting ambushed.

"Don't scream at me, old man. Pay up."

"I don't have a fucking coin!"

You know he is lying. You saw someone buy his fabric from a far as you entered the marketplace. And, judging by the money bag he held earlier, it wasn't cheap at all.

"We can do this the easy way, or the heard way."

You take a step forward, towering above him.

"But the hard way won't end well for you."

"I already told you, I-"

You let your head fall back in annoyance. Collecting taxes is a necessity. Not something to be proud of. It's not as honorable as fighting in battle.

"Do you really want to go this far?"

You look down at him again, your hand now resting on the pommel of your gladius.

He caught the movement of your hand, worry creeping onto his features.

"What is it gonna be? Your life? Or coin?"

The old man is not stupid. And a couple of moments later, you walk away from his stall. The tinkle behind you indicates, that Titus is adding the silver denarii into the bag with the rest of the already collected money.

"Are you trying to rob me, old man? You are a con artist!"

Women screaming at a merchant are as common as clouds under the sky, so you don't pay much attention to it as you hear someone scream.

"How can you demand so much for this lousy work?"

You keep walking, although you kinda feel, like you heard this voice before. It sounds oddly familiar.

"By Bellona! I'm going to have you beaten for your rudeness!"

And there it is. With an annoyed groan, you immediately recognize, who is disturbing the rather peaceful market.

If she was a common local woman, you would've kept walking. The Galli could solve their own disputes.

But Sana is, as unfortunate as it is, not a local. She is a Roman woman. A member of the elite even.

You take a deep breath, before walking towards her screams. You can already guess whom she is screaming at.

"Keep going."

You tell Titus over your shoulder, as you approach her from behind. Her servant must have stayed with the carriage, because Sana is standing in front of the stall of the potter all alone.

Before the young woman can scream another word, you grab her arm.

"What-"

You spin her around and walk away, pulling her with you.

"What do you think you are doing?!"

"Silence."

You didn't say it in a loud voice, but your tone makes her go silent.

After a couple of meters, you stop, turning around to look at her.

"You're welcome."

"Excuse you?"

Her hands now rest on her hips. You can't help but catch how slender her waist seems to be.

"I just saved you from embarrassing yourself even further. You owe me."

You turn away, ready to reunite with Titus and your men.

"What the-"

It's now Sana's turn to grab your arm, stopping you from leaving.

"I don't owe you shit."

"Really?"

You turn to look at her again.

"Your temper is as bad as your observation skills. Minerva would strike you down for your utter incompetence."

You said the words, before you thought about them. You are aggravated. Because of the merchant earlier, because of her causing a scene, because of Lucius (as always) and because of her being his wife. Alright, maybe that last one was a little jealousy.

"How dare you? You are some rude-"

You stop her from saying another word by grabbing her shoulders and spinning her around.

"Look. Look and tell me what you see."

"What are you talking about?"

You see her frowning. An act that makes her beautiful face a little less flawless.

"Tell me what's going on."

You realize you are using the same tone as with the men during training. Harsh, straight forward, a little condescending. But not rude. Just factual.

"The merchant is still selling his stupidly expensive pottery."

You don't answer, waiting for more.

Sana, visibly annoyed, struggles against your grip for a moment, before giving in. You are a seasoned legionnaire. There is no way she is gonna get out of your hold on her.

"There are a couple of women and men who browse his items."

"Keep going."

"Someone is buying a bowl and an amphora."

"What is the woman on the right doing?"

"She is paying for her stuff. What-"

"Can you see how much she is paying?"

"Way too much for a stupid-"

"Do you see any of the locals complaining?"

Sana hesitantly shakes her head.

"Do you know the reason?"

"Because they are stupid. In Rome it's cheap-"

"We aren't in Rome, woman. This is Gaul."

You stand behind her, both of you silent for a couple of moments. You give her time to think about the possible reason. Although she is probably just complaining about you to the gods in silence.

"They all pay the price he demands, because he and his work are respected here."

"But they look-"

"Yeah. Some of his pieces aren't pretty."

You admit that.

"But he is an old man. His hands aren't as good as they used to be. He is obviously regarded with a decent amount of respect."

You gesture for Sana to look around the market.

"Most of the people here bargain over every single item. Food, cloth, tools and even pottery."

You turn her back towards the old man's stall.

"But not there. They respect him too much to try to get a better price. His work might not be the very best anymore, but his skill is known by everyone here."

Sana groans in annoyance and anger as she sees you coming out of the biggest tent of the camp. A week has gone by, since you treated her like a child at the market. Her blood still boils, whenever she sees you from a far.

She decided against telling her husband, not wanting to cause unnecessary friction. And if you have the favor of Caesar, it might be a bad idea to egg on her husband.

And Sana is still debating on your ability to help her seize more power. She is ready to do anything to get to the top. Even if it means working together with someone as low born as you.

Sana stops in her tracks as she sees her husband walk towards you.

"Aelius."

You don't greet him like any other lower ranking centurion would. The young woman can feel the tension between the two men, despite standing barely in earshot.

"Marius."

His face shows a disapproving twitch.

"It seems like we are catching up to Vercingetorix. I hope you don't make any mistakes in battle. I would hate to lose a lower ranking officer."

You click your tongue, taking a step forward.

With the two of you standing right in front of each other, Sana realizes that you are bigger than her husband. Not just in statue, but also in the way you carry yourself. With slightly less arrogance and more discipline.

"Don't worry about me, Aelius. As you know, I always make sure my men are taken care off."

Sana feels a shiver run down her spine. She heard more than enough stories about the battles of the tenth legion since she joined her husband. The amount of times that you were mentioned in one of them was noticeably high.

The young woman heard of a battle two summers ago. You weren't a centurion at the time. Merely a soldier of the second cohort. But in battle, your centurion chose to let his men die, while he stayed behind, watching his century getting slaughtered. After half of the eighty men were dead, you walked straight towards the cowardly centurion. A nobleman, which the storyteller didn't fail to mention with a hint of disgust. Your gladius seperated his head from his shoulders in one swift motion and you took command of the second century until the end of the battle. Caesar honored your bravery and agreed with your actions. Instead of getting executed, you got promoted.

"Are you implying I'm not leading my men well?"

Sana hears you chuckle.

"News travel fast among the younger men, Aelius."

"Maybe you should discipline your soldiers like I do. Your century is a disgrace to the tenth legion."

"Nugas garris. You are pathetic."

You walk off, leaving him behind.

Sana almost expects her husband to draw his gladius. How can you call him a disgrace? And idiot? He is higher ranking than you and he is a member of the elite.

But Aelius just watches you leave, before entering the tent you just came out of.

That short interaction reminds Sana of the power you actually hold. You might not be the highest officer, but almost the whole legion treats you as such. If it wasn't for your low birth, you might have been able to be the centurion of the first century of the first cohort.

Sana's decision is slowly forming in her mind. A plan to gain more power than she has right now. Siding with you might be risky. But the rewards could be great.

Sana glances at you from across the room as you stare at Caesar, who is currently talking. She is still not quite sure what she can offer you to make you join her side. But when the leader of the legion mentions the nobility in his speech, she sees your expression change for just a second. It is obvious that you hate all the wealthy and arrogant men and women. Maybe Sana can offer you something to get back at them. Or at least get back at Aelius.

"And that's why the tenth legion outshines any other. Your bravery and honor are praised throughout the whole empire. Rome is grateful for what you have done. And the gods smile down at the men, who give their lifes to the republic."

Caesar ends his speech. And with that, the long meal is finally over. It is night time already. Only the moon and the stars still shine.

You walk out of the large tent, ready to sleep. It has been a long day and there is no doubt that you will be fighting soon. Caesar's promise to promote you to such a high position still rings in your ears. You can't believe you've come this far.

"Gaius."

Her sweet voice makes you stop in front of your tent. She doesn't sound as angry as she usually does.

"Yes?"

You turn around, standing face to face with Sana.

"I'm here to ask you for something."

You look at her, waiting for an explanation.

"I heard that you are the bravest and most powerful man in this legion. At least unofficially."

You raise an eyebrow.

"Where is all of this honey suddenly coming from?"

Sana gives you a melodic chuckle. Only now do you realize how close she is standing. Her oils make you breath in the flowery air that surrounds her.

"I want to strike a deal with you."

"What would you want from such a low ranking officer like me?"

Your sarcasm makes it hard for Sana to not lash out. Just because she needs you, doesn't mean that she likes you.

"As far as I've heard, you won't be a low ranking officer for long."

"Is that so?"

You cross your arms in front of your chest.

"Well, it's actually quite simple. You have something I want. And I have something you want."

"I highly doubt that."

You watch Sana turn her head left and right, making sure that no one is around.

"There is a always something a man wants from a woman."

You are surprised at what she is suggesting.

"Judging by the look on your face, I can comfortably say that I'm right."

You shake your head, which seems harder than usual.

"Have you never thought about having your way with me? A noble woman?"

She takes another step closer. Now, Sana's sandals are touching yours.

"A married one at that? I bet you would love to destroy my husband. This could be your first step to success."

You narrow your eyes, still unsure of what to do. You've never been in this kind of situation. Is she making fun of you? Did Aelius put her up to this, setting a trap for you? Or is she genuine?

"What would you get in return?"

"Your power. Your influence. I can't live, knowing that another person might have more power than I do. I need to be at the top of the republic."

"And you think, I can get you there?"

Sana nods.

"With my support? Definitely."

She looks at you, waiting for a response.

You are still torn. She has a nice body, yes. But you're not fond of her attitude. She is a noble woman. And she is married. Getting caught would have serious consequences. For the both of you.

But the chance to use her? A noble woman? Fucking her, while her husband is only sleeping a couple of tents away? More than just tempting.

You look around the camp yourself. No one in sight.

"Get in."

A victorious smile forms on her lips. As she walks past you, she lets her finger glide over your armoured chest.

You follow her immediately after.

"Now that we have come to an agreement, I-"

You push Sana forward, bending her over the wooden table.

"What-"

You don't give her time to speak. If you're going to do this, you're going to do this quickly.

Hiking up her red stola, you reach underneath her tunic. The smoothness of her legs makes you hard as you reach between them.

"It seems like you are enjoying this more than I expected."

Your fingers graze her lower lips. She is not just a little wet.

"Hey, I didn't give you permission to-"

You shut Sana up by covering her mouth with your other hand.

"I don't need you permission. I'm going to ruin you anyway."

Her gasp is muffled by your hand as you push your first finger inside.

You haven't slept with a lot of women, the army being mainly responsible for that. Nonetheless, you do know how to pleasure a woman.

Sana's moan escapes between your fingers as your digits slide along her wet walls. Her pussy is already gripping them tightly.

If it weren't for your hand, her head would've sunk onto the table already. But you are holding her in place, which ultimately makes her arch her back.

She tries to say something, but your grip on her mouth makes it impossible for her to speak properly.

You are surprised at how wet Sana is.

"Was your desire for power just an excuse? Do you just want me to fuck you?"

She tries to shake her head. You don't let her.

"Do you get off, knowing that a lower born man is fucking you?"

Sana is unable to respond, when you let go off her face. Her whole upper body is now lying on top of the table. You drop your belt and hike her clothes up a little further.

"Don't get confused. I still don't like you."

Sana's growl doesn't sound very convincing with your fingers inside of her.

"Might be true. But you aren't married to Aelius because of his personality anyways."

Pulling your fingers out of her core makes Sana moan loudly. She blushes in shame. Doubt starting to rise inside of her. Is she really only doing this to team up with you?

"You only seem to care for power."

"So? Only a coward wouldn't want power."

You shut her up by letting your tip graze against her lips. Sana hisses through her teeth, unwilling to moan again.

"I'm just curious about how far you would be willing to go. How dedicated you are to this cause."

"Don't worry. I'm ready to do anything."

"Anything?"

You raise an eyebrow, which Sana can't see.

"Anything."

"That's reassuring."

Your nonchalant tone makes Sana shiver.

Finally, you push inside of her.

"Fuck, woman."

You can't help but marvel at how tight she actually is.

"Fuck me already."

It's a mixture of plea and demand.

With one hand you grab her hair, pushing her cheek against the wooden surface. Your other hand holds her waist.

Another moan escapes Sana's lips as you thrust forward. Before she can react, you pull back and push inside of her again.

After just a couple of seconds, you start to fuck her hard. The table rocks back and forth with every thrust. Her moans escape her lips, whenever you bottom out inside of her.

"Harder!"

Sana holds onto the edge of the table, her knuckles slowly starting to turn white.

Because you keep pushing her upwards with your thrusts, the young woman's feet eventually dangle in the air.

You are now able to fuck her even deeper. Her moans become louder when she feels your cock invading her pussy even further.

At this point, Sana is merely a hole for you to fuck. She doesn't move. Only your thrusts rock her body back and forth. The thin material of her clothes makes Sana's nipples rub against the wooden surface. They've become hard due to her arousal and are now adding to the pleasure she is already feeling.

"So good!"

She moans yet again. You suddenly realize, that this isn't really a save place to be this loud.

"Shut up."

You growl into her ear, trying to quiet her.

But Sana can't help it. She has already lost control over her body. Your cock is parting her walls again and again, making her clench around it tightly.

She is even unable to produce a disappointed whine, when you stop fucking her. You leaver her snug pussy, before getting her off your table.

Turning her around, you push Sana against the wooden post, which is holding up the roof of your tent. Reaching for your belt, you hold her arms up, before tying them together.

Sana is now unable to leave. You pick up her light frame, making her impale herself on your cock.

"By Bellona! Fuck!"

"I told you to stay quiet."

Your faces are barely an inch apart.

Because you push her body against the post, you are able to lift her up with only your left hand. Your right one moves upwards to wrap its fingers around her throat.

"One more word..."

You let the threat of unknown punishment linger in the air for a moment.

But you can't hold yourself back for long. Sana's pussy drips her juices onto your cock, coaxing you into resuming your pounding.

A whimper escapes her mouth, when you start to fuck her again. You can tell she is at least trying to stay quiet this time. While you make her bounce on your cock, you thrust upwards. It makes her eyes roll back, whenever she feels your cock pushing against her guts.

"Venus!"

A louder sigh escapes her mouth yet again. You close your fingers around her throat a little further.

"Behave."

The conflict in Sana's eyes amuses you.

She should be the one in charge. She is the noble one of the two of you after all. But here she is, bound to your post, your hand around her throat as you fuck her as hard as you can.

Sana tries to fight the belt, wanting to tell you that you have to choke her harder. She can't keep quiet when you fuck her like this.

Another moan escapes her lips and you tighten your grip yet again.

"I warned you."

You hiss into her face.

Sana's wide eyes look beautiful. The way she stares at you, begging you to fuck her harder, while she tries her best not to make any noise.

But she fails miserably. A loud sigh echoes through the tent.

Without a word, you reach upwards. The sound of metal on metal cuts through the night as you pull your pugio out of its sheath. You let Sana get a good look at it. Then, you slowly part her lips with its blade.

"If you don't want to hurt your pretty face..."

You don't continue your sentence once more. But Sana is well aware of the risks.

With your dagger in her mouth, Sana has to pull back her lips, while simultaneously biting onto the blade, to make sure it doesn't fall or hurt her.

You see her closing her eyes as you keep fucking her. She is now really quiet, focused on keeping your pugio in place.

"Finally. Your voice so annoying."

Sana blushes in shame, able to see your honesty in your eyes.

"At least you have a nice body. I could fuck you every day."

The young woman almost lets out another moan. She really has to hold herself back. This was the first time someone reduced her to nothing but a wet hole to fuck. She didn't expect it to feel this good.

You suddenly hear footsteps outside. You stop moving, almost making Sana whine in disappointment, but then she hears it too. The two of you hold your breath. Neither of you wanting to get caught.

As the footsteps disappear into the night, you resume your fucking.

You make Sana bounce up and down on your cock. She glides along its full length. Whenever you impale her on it, Sana's eyes shoot wide open. She would scream if it wasn't for the dagger between her teeth.

"I'm gonna cum."

You hiss into her face, unable to hold back longer. Her tight pussy has been working on draining your cock this whole time. It feels perfect, almost too good to pull out. But cuming inside is obviously not an option.

You put Sana back onto her own two feet, taking the knife out of her mouth. Undoing your belt, you free her arms. Sana drops to her knees, opening her mouth. You catch a couple drops of blood on the corners of her mouth, before she wraps her lips around your cock.

Your pugio falls out of your hand and you take a fistful of her beautiful hair. Her eyes look up at you, telling you to finish inside her mouth. Her tongue glides over every inch of your cock it can find, while her lips are tightly sealed around it.

"Sana."

You manage to groan her name, before you unload inside her mouth. You feel dizzy, having to close your eyes for a moment.

When you open them again, you see Sana gulping down your cum.

"How often do we need to do this, so that we have a deal?"

"I think you know the answer."

It's so dark that Sana's face is barely lit by the torch outside. You could swear a small smile plays around her lips though.

#kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #twice sana #twice #sana minatozaki #sana twice #sana smut #sana #twice smut

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mind-empty-just-fictional-people · 6 months

Text

Showed Me (How I Fell In Love With You)

masterlist

summary: dean helps you up your flirting game, but there’s really only one set of eyes you want on you.

paring: dean winchester x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 2.7k

warnings: language, implied sex/nudity, strands of hair falls on reader’s face

author’s note: you probably already know this but sideblogs (like this one) can now answer comments!! super excited about this update and fingers crossed the next one is for sending asks lol 🤞💞

music: showed me (how i fell in love with you) by madison beer — i was listening to this song and kept imagining dean, idk

Dean always had incredible luck with women. He could go into a bar crowded with guys and walk out with the only woman—the bartender who’d been dodging men all night.

You, on the other hand, could go into that same bar and end up going back to the motel alone. It bothered you; what in the hell were you doing wrong?

So, you did the unthinkable—you asked Dean to help you get better at flirting.

That’s how you ended up here at the bar with Dean; he was showing you how to play pool. You had protested the idea of him “teaching you” something you already knew, but he claimed it was important.

“You’re standing wrong,” he told you when you were about to break.

“Uh, no I’m not?”

“If you’re trying to win the game, you’re doing great. If you’re trying to get your opponent to fuck you, you’re failing miserably.”

“Thanks,” you grumbled.

“Hey, you were the one who asked me for help!” He shrugged. “If you want to back out now-”

“No, I don’t want to back out,” you sighed. “I’m fucking desperate at this point.”

“So, are you gonna do what I say, then?” he asked, folding his arms over his chest.

“Yeah,” you mumbled. “How am I supposed to stand?”

He walked up behind you and put his hands on your hips.

“Stick your butt out a little,” he instructed and you did as he asked. “Alright, now when you bend over,” he moved his hands up and forward, resting them on your lower chest, “you’ll want to point your breasts in the direction of the person you want to attract.”

“What if he’s standing behind me?” you asked.

“Then his eyes are gonna be glued to your ass,” he replied, not getting the message. “If he’s standing behind you then focus more on the actual game, and less on where you’re pointing your boobs. Trust me, though, if he’s standing in front of you, he’s gonna be trying to see down your shirt, now…” he walked back around to the other side of the table. “Bend over, and before you hit the ball, make eye contact with him.”

“Okay…” You bent down and lined up your shot before looking up and into Dean’s eyes.

“Perfect! If you look at him kinda like through your eyelashes, there’s exactly one thing that’s suddenly stuck front and center in his mind.”

“And this works on…all guys?” you asked, still looking at him through your lashes.

“If he was standing where I am and didn’t want to fuck you, he’s either related to you or just not into chicks.”

“Good to know,” you mumbled, mostly to yourself. You were about to start the game but a few strands of hair fell on your face.

“Don’t move,” Dean said before he hurried back to where he had been before and tucked the hair behind your ear for you. “Now, since he’s already thinking about that one thing, is that something you want him to think about even more?”

“Um, yeah,” you said quietly.

“Alright, pout your lips,” he instructed. He moved his hand down from your ear and tugged your lip out a bit. “Perfect, that’s gonna draw his attention to your lips.”

“So, now I start actually playing the game?” you asked, not sure if he had any more pointers for you.

“If you want. Or we can go over to the bar where there are three different guys that have been eyeing you the past ten minutes.”

“Really?” you stood up straight, whipping your head around. You saw the guys he was talking about and they all quickly looked down at the drinks in front of them. “Let’s go to the bar, then.”

“So, now that you know all those guys are interested,” Dean said as you both took your seats at the bar, several stools away from the other people already there, “you need to pick one.”

“Isn’t that the easy part?” you laughed a little.

“Oh no, most guys are monsters.” Dean shook his head, motioning the bartender over with his hand. “What’re you drinking?” he asked, looking at you.

“Just a beer’s fine,” you said, a little confused. Usually when you, Sam, and Dean went out drinking you each ordered your own drinks. Dean took initiative and ordered two beers. “And I know before taking someone back to my room I have to do the usual tests; holy water, iron, and silver.”

“Not those kinda monsters, sweetheart,” Dean said. “The guy on the far right has a little motor home keychain attached to his keys. Given the fact there’s a dilapidated RV parked outside that looks like a serial killer’s lair, I’d say he’s a creep.”

“Well, what about the guy in the middle?” you asked.

“I heard him talking with someone on the phone in the bathroom earlier about the fact his ex-girlfriend doesn’t know she got the clap from him.”

“Dear lord,” you groaned, making a disgusted face. “What’s wrong with the guy on the left?”

“Well, uh…” Dean started, looking at the man you were talking about and trying to find something wrong with him. “Nothing. If he comes over here, I’d say it’s worth a shot.”

“Shouldn’t I go and talk to him?” you asked.

“Oh no! No, no, no! Bar like this, pretty girl like you; he’ll think you’re a hooker.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, unless you wanna make a couple hundred bucks tonight?” he teased, earning a smack to his upper arm. “I’ll take that as a no,” he laughed.

“I’d make at least four-hundred,” you scoffed.

“Look, you’re cute and sweet and guys tend to turn their heads when you walk by them. Now, for your next lesson, take a look around the bar and tell me how many women you see.”

You looked around, counting in your head. “Five, including me and the bartender,” you said.

“And how many guys?”

“I’d say like twenty at least?” you estimated.

“Exactly,” he said. “See, at least half of those guys have their eyes on you. When we were playing pool earlier I guarantee you they’d have done anything to be where I was.”

“So…what’s your point?”

“You’re way above any of these guys’ leagues.” He shrugged. “Which is okay, but you need to know that you’re too good for them, just a fact. They’re spending their Wednesday night in a bar looking for a hookup, you came here to get a drink with your friend. So, like I said, you are in fact way out of their leagues.”

“You really think so?”

“Please tell me you’re joking,” he laughed a little then looked at you and realized you were serious. “Oh dear god, yes! Not only are you fucking gorgeous, you’re smart, funny and a total badass! I mean you killed two vampires this morning!”

“Thanks, Dean.” You smiled.

“Of course,” he replied. “Now, before we head back to the motel is there anything else? You know how to kiss someone, right?”

“Ha, ha!” You smiled sarcastically. “I know how to kiss, Dean. But, I actually do have a question.”

“Shoot!”

“What about…the friend zone?”

“You wanna know how to friend zone a guy?” He furrowed his brows.

“No, how do I get out of the friend zone?”

“Oh.” He nodded. “That’s, um, I’m actually not sure. And I didn’t think you had friends?”

“Again, very funny Dean,” you laughed somewhat sarcastically. “What if I’m good friends with a guy and I really like him, but I’m scared to tell him because I don’t want to lose the friendship?”

“Look, Sam loves you but he doesn’t see you…that way,” he said.

“It’s not Sam, dumbass,” you said. “I have plenty of friends! And there’s this one friend, who’s a guy that I really like. I don’t think he feels the same way, but it’s driving me absolutely crazy that I can’t just tell him.”

“I, uh, I don’t know. I mean, I always think the guy has more to lose if that situation goes south, cause he’ll always be attracted to the girl but she might…get bored with him.”

“But what if the guy doesn’t like me back? What if I tell him and he says ‘gross, you’re like a sister to me’?”

“If he does see you as a sister, he’s not gonna say ‘gross’ when you tell him how you feel?”

“How do you know?”

“Cause I know Sam and he’d be lucky to have a girl like you.”

“It’s not Sam, you moron!” you exclaimed, a little louder than intended.

“…Garth?”

“What if the guy I really like is also really dumb?” you asked.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say Garth is dumb…”

“Oh my god,” you groaned. “Yeah, never mind.” You put your face in your hands for a moment before starting to drink the beer Dean had ordered for you. He watched you with furrowed brows and it felt like an eternity (really it was about sixty seconds) before he suddenly broke the silence.

“Holy shit!” he exclaimed. “Is it…me?”

“I’m sorry,” you said, looking over at him. “I didn’t plan on letting that slip tonight, I swear.”

“But, it is me? You like me?” Dean asked, you nodded. “Oh my fucking god!”

You couldn’t tell if he was happy and you were beginning to really worry.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly. You turned on your chair to leave but he gripped your upper arm and kept you in place.

“No, don’t—fuck! I feel like I just won the fucking lottery and I just need a second to catch up.”

“Wait, you’re happy? You…You like me too?”

“Oh yeah,” he nodded, “I may be stupid but I’m not an idiot.”

“Well…” you teased.

He rolled his eyes, still smiling; “Just let me kiss you, already,” Dean muttered. He put his hands on your cheeks, stood up off his chair, leaned toward you, and kissed you deeply. His hands moved to your shoulders then down to your lower back as you put your hands on his cheeks.

“Wait,” you mumbled, pulling back slightly.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, you’re incredible! I’m just now realizing how many creepy guys are staring at me.”

“Told ya,” he said, taking a look around the bar.

“Could we, maybe…head to your motel room?” you asked somewhat nervously.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Hundred percent.” You nodded vigorously, looking at his lips then up and into his bright green eyes. “Unless…you don’t want to?”

“Oh I definitely want to, I’ve wanted to since Sam and I picked you up after he left Stanford,” he said.

“And you didn’t say anything? Dean, it’s been like ten years?” You furrowed your brows then noticed he actually seemed a little embarrassed. “For the record, I’ve wanted to kiss you for about twelve.” His eyes widened.

“What? Wow, I guess we’re both a little stupid,” he laughed a little before leaning in for another kiss.

“Excuse me, Winchester?” You quirked a brow, looking at him.

“I mean, you’re smart, so smart,” he rambled a little. “And sexy, so fucking sexy.” He kissed you and you kissed him back, smiling against his mouth. “Let’s get the hell outta here, sweetheart.”

“Mmh, just another minute,” you mumbled, not wanting to stop kissing him.

He pulled away after a moment, both of you smiling.

“My god you’re beautiful.” He smiled, putting a hand on your cheek.

You hopped off the stool but stayed looking into his eyes; “You’re so fuckin’ hot, Dean Winchester,” you mumbled and kissed him again, pulling him down by the collar of his jacket.

He pulled out his wallet and was about to pay for both drinks but you stopped him.

“What’s wrong?”

“If you pay for my drink then this would count as our first date,” you said.

“Huh, I didn’t think of it like that,” he replied. “Alright, we each pay for our own drinks.”

“Exactly.” You nodded and took out your own wallet, each of you leaving a ten on the counter. “Now, shall we go to your motel room?”

“I’m sharing a room with Sammy,” he said.

“My motel room it is.” You pulled him down again and kissed him.

“Lead the way.”

You woke up to the sound of Dean snoring lightly behind you and a smile formed on your lips as you recalled what had happened only a few hours ago. You felt Dean’s arm snake around your waist and he pulled you closer to him.

You assumed he was awake now and you turned to kiss him but he was actually still snoring. The thought that he wanted you closer to him even when he was sleeping made your smile deepen.

A wave of calmness washed over you, followed by an unnerving idea; how serious was Dean when he said he liked you?

Did he think this was a one-and-done situation? Were he and Sam just gonna drive off in that beautiful Impala and leave you to start hunting alone?

You hadn’t hunted alone since re-connecting with the Winchesters back in ‘05. Before that you’d been hunting alone or with Dean while Sam was in college. Before that you’d hunted with your dad, who occasionally worked with John.

You honestly didn’t really remember the first time you met Dean. You were both just kids and you blocked out a lot of your childhood due to the fact you’d been hunting your whole life. (It was actually a similar story to Dean’s—after a monster killed your mom, your dad became obsessed with hunting and seemed to forget he was a father with a four-year-old in the back seat of his pickup truck.)

What you did remember was the first time hunting alone with Dean. You were twenty-two and (finally) not hunting with your dad when you ran into Dean who was also hunting alone. He had recently had some kind of falling out with Sam, who had been at Stanford a couple years already. You remembered how Dean reacted to the fact you were hunting alone.

He was genuinely worried for your safety and insisted he hunt with you for a while. You took him up on the offer and spent a couple months together before parting ways but still staying in touch.

You were drawn back to the present when Dean let out a breath of air as he stirred awake.

“Good morning,” he mumbled, a smile on his full lips when he opened his eyes. He sat up on his elbow and tilted your chin up with his finger. “My god, how are you so beautiful?” You giggled a little before he bent down and kissed you.

He sat up further and slipped an arm under you, bringing you to the center of the bed. He caged you beneath him by putting his hands on either side of you as your hands went into his already ruffled hair. You brought him back down and kissed him again, his left hand moving again and trailing down your side, bringing your bare thigh up to graze his own.

You could tell where things were going so you stopped him, “Dean.”

“Y/n,” he mumbled back.

“Dean, wait,” you said quietly.

“What is it?” he asked, looking down at you.

“How, um, how serious is this?” you asked.

“What?” He furrowed his brows a little.

“Is this a one-night thing?”

“Oh,” he realized. “Um, it can be, if that’s what you want.”

“Is that…what you want?” you asked.

He looked into your eyes and slowly shook his head negatively, your smile returning to your flushed face.

“I was kinda thinking this would be at least a two-night thing,” he said, showing off his adorable smirk and making you roll your eyes a little. He bent down and kissed you. “Maybe a three-night thing.”

“A four-night thing?” you teased.

“I think you’re gonna be stuck with me for a lot longer than that, sweetheart,” he mumbled into your mouth.

“You really think?” you asked, smiling.

“Hate to break it to you, but I’m kinda in love with you.” He stopped kissing you, realizing what he said. “I, uh, I mean, not—fuck, I really am. I’m sorry.”

“Dean,” you interrupted his spiraling, “I’m kinda in love with you too.”

“Oh thank goodness,” he whispered and kissed you again.

#spn #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester comfort #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x female!reader #supernatural fluff #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #by mind empty just fictional people #by mind empty just fictional people #<- still no clue why these are two different tags #by jean

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long-live-astronerd-ghost-king · 9 months

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DPXDC prompt. Granny al Ghul

Ra's al Ghul believed that there were no former members of the League of Assassins. Maddie understood that perfectly, but it didn’t make her any more prepared when she saw her father.

"Hey, are you my favorite sweet grandpa?" Danny, who noticed his mother freezing in fear after opening the door, immediately stood in front of her. "Want to hug?"

"It was you again! I know for sure." The head of the league hissed in anger. ''Get out!"

"But this is my house." Her son shrugged his shoulders and smiled in a strange snide way. "Do you want me to show you my room or do you want me to chew a cookie for you? You look totally senile. Even your feet can’t hold you."

Ra's Al Ghul was shaking with rage. "Don’t play dumb, I know you’ve been tinkering with water in my Lazarus pits." "They are part of the nature reserve of the Ghost Zone." Danny was rightly outraged. "Write your name on them even a hundred times, they will not be yours."

"But you’ll get a fine for vandalism. You’re lucky I didn’t report you to the authorities." Danny threatens grandpa with his finger. "But it’s only because we’re family, you know?" Ra's frowns but stops arguing. "Would you like a cup of tea?" Danny’s offering a truce. Ra's sighs. "Well, I wouldn't say no."

~~~~~

"Do you like your drink?" Danny asks, pouring grandpa more green tea with milk. "Disgusting." The head of the League of Assassins answers sincerely. "Good." Danny’s smiling like a gremlin. "Hey, do you want to see an album with photos of baby Danny, Ra's?" asks Jack, who doesn’t notice the tension around. "No." Maddie was sitting there with her eye twitching for the last 40 minutes. "I would like to see a family photo album, Madeline." Ra's, who saw an opportunity to embarrass his insolent grandson, did not want to lose it.

~~~~~

"For the last time, why should I participate in this abomination?" Ra's stared angrily at his grandson pushing him into the classroom.

"Come on, grandpa, you saw my photo from kindergarten with a piss on my pants." Danny looked at him, batting his eyelashes.

Ra's rolled his eyes."And why does it mean I have to join this circus?"

"We’re definitely family now! And I promised Mr. Lancer I will take on Career Day this year anyone but not mom or dad. I’m definitely not gonna call Vlad. So that leaves you." Danny pushed him again.

The guard at the Demon's Head got nervous, but Ra’s hand stopped him. "I did not agree."Grandpa moved one of the swords to Danny’s neck.

Fenton just brushed it off with a frown. "Come on, tell everyone a little bit about your plans for immortality and world domination. Maybe I’ll be interested in being your heir then. I promise to listen carefully!"

~~~~

"The most important thing in educating your minions is control. They must feel an absolute fear of your authority." The inspired Ra's continued his speech after the bell. Lancer was taking notes. Tucker looked at it.

"I don’t like it, guys. I stick to the good old-fashioned disciplinary measures, you know?" Techno geek whispered.

"Well, I’m totally fine with it." Danny, who had noticed that after a fascinating lecture about the most effective tortures Dash was sitting two desks further away from him, showed his grandfather fist with the thumb up.

~~~~

"I changed my mind, I’ll kill him." Danny roared, running around the stadium after his thirtieth lap. What idiot from the school board took his crazy grandfather’s advice about organizing extra fitness classes? Next to him Wes fell to the ground. "Do it, Phantom. Avenge us." The boy wheezed at the last breath. "No distractions, five more laps!" Ra's stood on the field with the hand fan. "This bastar-r-rd." Danny roared furiously. "What? My favorite grandson wants to run another ten? Well, I can’t say no, right, coach?" Demon's Head yelled.

~~~~

"You know, it is really nice to take a vacation sometimes. I feel an unprecedented surge of strength." Ra’s reached out to Mr. Lancer standing next to him. "Would you like to meet for coffee sometime?"

"How about Friday, around 7:00 p.m.?" Mr Lancer looked at his schedule. "No, I’m busy at this time." Ra's sighed with regret. "We have a ritual sacrifice scheduled for six p.m." "You have a great sense of humor, my friend." Mr. Lancer laughed. "Who knew Mr. Fenton had such an intriguing and well-read grandfather. You’re full of surprises, Mr al Ghul." ~~~~ Damian, sitting on the roof of Casper High, lays down his binoculars and sighs. "Yes, mother is right, grandfather finally lost his mind." "Well, I’m glad you noticed too." A voice filled with relief rang very close. "Who’s here?" Damian took out the katana. "Um, boo?" Void’s voice answered.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dpxdp prompt #dpxdc prompts #dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover

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suashii · 6 months

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꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ 𝐵𝒜𝐵𝒴 𝐼𝒯'𝒮 𝒞𝒪𝐿𝒟 𝒪𝒰𝒯𝒮𝐼𝒟𝐸

info ⭑ nagi seishiro x reader ﾉ 0.9k wc ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff

note ⭑ something short and sweet for the boy! it's been a while since i've written so forgive me if i'm rusty :3

“jeez, sei, walk any closer and people might start thinking you’re my shadow,” you mumble into your scarf, tipping your chin up so your next words will be more audible. you’re walking home with nagi now but instead of the man taking steps beside you, he’s closely tracing your footsteps, arms wrapped around you and his hands stuffed in your pockets with yours.

he’s stuck to you like super glue—like you’re his personal space heater.

“can’t help it,” he speaks up from behind you. if he’s able to get any closer, he does with his words. “it’s starting to get cold.”

besides being a notorious homebody, your boyfriend hates the cold. he hates how it makes his fingertips numb and his skin flush bright red and he especially hates how it makes his nose runny. even now, when the temperatures have yet to hit their coldest, he has a coat zipped up over his hoodie and a crochet bunny beanie sitting atop his head. snowy tufts of hair stick out from the hat but he’s sure to have the tops of his ears tucked away.

“poor baby,” you coo, fumbling for his hand in your pocket. you give it a squeeze before bringing up a suggestion that might help chase the chill away. “want some hot chocolate when we get home?”

you can practically feel him perk up behind you at the offer. nagi may hate the cold, but he loves getting warmed up—especially if it’s with you. he settles his chin on the top of your head and hums a confirmation, the vibration giving you all the answer you need.

he can’t see it, but you smile as you give his hand another loving squeeze. “anything for you, my snow prince.”

nagi groans at the unwanted nickname but it does little–nothing, really–to deter him from hanging off of you the rest of the way home.

it’s not long before the two of you are back at your apartment, settling into the warmth of the unit. while nagi readies the living room for your cozy night in, you stand at the counter with two mugs in front of you and a pot of milk heating up on the stove. the lyrics of the song that’s been stuck in your head these days drift through the air as you make your way about the kitchen to grab whipped cream from the fridge and marshmallows from the pantry.

when you’re back at your workstation and preparing to assemble your warm drinks, you call out for nagi. he’s particularly picky when it comes to the ratio of toppings and you’ve learned it’s best to simply have him supervise. you expect to hear his heavy footsteps alerting you of his arrival but are instead met with his icy hands snaking up beneath your hoodie.

you flinch and then squeal at the sensation, turning around in his hold to scold him. “sei! your hands are freezing!”

any attempt to push him away is futile. despite his lazy exterior characterized by oversized clothes and his floppy-eared hat, nagi is stronger than he looks. his grasp isn’t painful but it’s firm, like he has no intention of letting you go.

he pulls you closer and buries his head into your neck. his voice is muffled when he says, “i know,” he draws out the vowel, “but you aren’t. just help me get warm.”

“i’m trying to do that but it’s a bit hard when your ice packs for hands are up my shirt.” you turn your head to leave a kiss behind his ear as an incentive for him to let you get back to your task. it works, nagi loosening his hold on you in favor of standing at your side. there’s a pout on his lips but he silently watches and waits for you to continue making the drinks.

without the cute distraction, you’re able to pour the milk into each of the mugs and combine the liquid and powder to make the rich, chocolatey base. you add a pretty swirl of whipped cream to your cup before turning to nagi and spraying some of the sweet foam into his mouth. his cheeks puff out and you giggle at the sight before returning your attention to the mugs and beginning to add the whipped topping to nagi’s. through a mouthful, he tells you when to stop.

fluffy marshmallows come next. you sprinkle the minis on between each cup, glancing at nagi to see when you’ve reached his desired amount. he licks the lingering cream off of his lips while he nods in a silent gesture for you to continue. you’re sure you’re going to run out of space to pile them on when he finally says you’ve added enough. like usually, you dig into the bag for a few more of the bouncy treats to feed to your boyfriend.

he happily chews away while you return the ingredients to their place in the kitchen. you join him at the counter as he’s swallowing and like a magnet, he pulls you into him. you don’t fight it this time, choosing to melt into his hold instead.

nagi dips his head down, whispering a quiet, “thank you,” against your lips before capturing them in a kiss. he tastes like dessert, his mouth sweet from the whipped cream and marshmallows, lips soft from the chapstick he’s consistent about putting on in the colder months. and, unlike the rest of him, they’re warm.

you pull away with a smile, jerking your head in the direction of the mugs. “shall we go get warm under the blanket?”

he nods. “sounds good.”

hey there, it's manon :3 ! thank you for giving this a read! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment! much love from me to you ❤︎

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: blue lock #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #nagi x you #bllk x you #blue lock x you #nagi drabble #bllk drabbles #blue lock drabbles #nagi fluff #bllk fluff #blue lock fluff #bllk scenarios #bllk imagines #blue lock scenarios #blue lock imagines

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doki-doki-imagines · 1 month

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wc: 10k (next time I write this much shoot me down from the start) author note: wrote this to celebrate one year since I have been writing for bllk! Since my first post was about Sae I thought to celebrate with a fic about him. If you know me a bit, you know Sae is far from being one of my faves so I feel like a clown writing this much for him sob.

tw: none. 10k words of fluff more or less.

If you like my writing consider supporting me on ko-fi!

You are sitting on an iron bench, wet from head to toe, with no way to protect yourself from the incessant rain. Your makeup is ruined and tears can’t be discerned from the droplets of rain running down your face.

You look desperate and there is no need to look at your face to understand that, you supporting your head with your hands is enough, crouched on yourself, sighs sound dulled by the downpour.

“You look pathetic.” It’s a familiar voice, one that makes your skin crawl and now increases your heartbeat to dangerous levels. You look up and you see him, in all his cold beauty. He is wearing a brown boiled wool coat, underneath a turtleneck black sweater peaking out. He is looking down at you, like a high-class rich when he sees a snotty kid, the grey umbrella covers a bit his face, but those ice irises pierce your figure anyway.

“Sae-“ You whisper out your voice full of disbelief and shame.

But how did you find yourself in such a miserable situation? We have to go back a bit.

One year ago

You have never been a fan of parties, they can be a good way to unplug your brain for a bit before going back to normal life. But after a while you need a break, the music and sweaty bodies overwhelm your senses. Your friend Elisa stays back, a guy caught her attention but she asks where you’ll go, in case she won’t see you for long.

You go outside, the cold breeze of winter hits your naked skin making you shiver, but at least you can now breathe. There is nobody else outside other than you and a red hair sitting on the small brick wall on the opposite side of the entrance. You decide to sit there too, at a safe distance not wanting to bother him but close enough to start a chat in case you stay there a little longer than needed.

You look around a bit, breathing in and out while you notice the leaves moving and bushes filled with trash. It’s not a great sight and for sure straining your sight for that doesn’t seem a good idea, so your eyes fall on the stranger sitting next to you. He is now checking his phone, red strands framing his face. You notice his long lashes, it’s always guys that have the crazy luck to have doe lashes, the lower ones touching the apple of his cheeks. He looks young, but he has a mature aura around him, an idea that comes from both his posture and his clothes. The sky-blue shirt he is wearing must be crazy expensive-

“Can you stop looking at me?” You widen your eyes, now comically big.

“You mean-“ You point a finger towards yourself, but you can’t finish the phrase that the guy snaps back.

“Yes, you. Stop looking at me.” He finally faces you, his teal eyes staring at you as you’d do with a cockroach; the same amount of disgust.

He stands up now in front of you “You must be the friend of my physiotherapist, right?”

You nod. After all, it is thanks to her if tonight you are here, at a party full of famous football players and hot beyond imagination models…you must stick out like a sore thumb.

“I guess you recognized who I am. Please, stop. I don’t want to know you, I don’t have time for a relationship.”

Your mouth is wide open.

“I don’t know who you are-“

“Yeah, sure. I have to go now. Don’t follow me.” He doesn’t even wave back, he just gives you his back and walks away.

You have never felt so angry in your life, and you had to deal with a lot of assholes to reach this point in your life.

You stomp inside, searching for Elisa to ask what the fuck is wrong with people and you find there, the guy from before still next to her but there are also other guys and girls and him. The first reaction is to walk away, possibly closing yourself inside the bathroom until they finished chatting or, at least, that guy walked away, but luck isn’t on your side your friend already waving at you signaling to go sit with her.

There is just your friend's body between you and that guy, but this time it’s your eyes that throw daggers at him every time he just even breathes your way; he doesn’t seem to care and it angers you even more.

“Oh let me present you to Sae! He is the football guy I work for!” She said looking at you with a smile that goes from one ear to the other, alcohol playing crazy tricks in her mind not to notice your cracked mood. You extend your hand, trying to be a decent person and you see him sighing. Why punching idiots is not acceptable in modern society? Maybe because you probably wouldn’t be able to stop, after hitting that ugly mug the first time.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Sae.” Your smile is fake, but you think you do a good job of hiding your feelings. The handshake is short, but while you tighten the grip to show you aren’t a weakling, the red hair slips his hand away the second your palms touch.

“Call me Itoshi.”

“Mh? Is that your name?”

“No, it’s my surname. I don’t like strangers to call me by my name.” He replies, back now hitting the red sofa of the club, looking somewhere on the dancefloor, probably at the butt of some dancer.

You look straight into the eyes of your friend and something finally clicks in her mind because you see cold sweat forming on her forehead after the interaction you had with Sae. No, wait. Itoshi.

“Well, guys-“ She claps her hand “it’s time for us to go, thanks for having us.” She stands up and you follow while she finishes to say goodbye to her colleagues. “See you tomorrow, Sae. Don’t exaggerate with drinks!” It’s clearly a joke, her tongue pokes out and Sae smiles back at her.

He would be cute. If only he isn’t such a shit. Your heart almost jumped with joy when the corner of his lips turned upwards, but your brain, thankfully reminded your body how he treated you a few minutes ago.

The walk towards your friend’s car is silent, the people inside the club making enough noise. Your silence gets broken when you enter the vehicle, before your friend can turn the engine on she stares at you.

“I leave you alone a few minutes and you get in a catfight with my client, really?” There is no real anger in her voice, knowing her position isn’t in danger. So you explode at her, telling her chapter and verse of what happened between you two.

“Is he always such an asshole? I feel sorry for you, I hope he pays you enough.” Your friend’s head hits the headrest, and a loud bubbly laugh escapes her mouth.

“Is he worse? Fuck maybe you should change job-“

“No, no. It’s that I invited you tonight because I hoped you could get together in the future.” Her voice is often broken by laughter and finally, anger free, you remember that she probably has drunk too much.

“Let’s switch, you are drunk.”

“No, c’mon. Sae is usually nice! He is a bit cold, but I thought a partner, or just a friend-” and it’s not hard for you to imagine he has nobody to talk with, every time he opens his mouth it’s the same as having two fingers in your eyes “You are also single, so I thought it could work out!” She slaps your shoulder and keeps giggling and now you are sure that you need to be the one to drive you both home.

“Don’t ever leave your job, you suck at playing Cupid-“ You giggle too, finally switching places and driving you both home.

The drive is filled with useless chatter, your friend seemed really into that dude of before, Leonardo is his name? Tomorrow with a more lucid mind you’ll dig more into your friend's new crush.

And you hope you’ll soon forget about that asshole of teammate too.

8 months ago

When you return home after an intense day of work, the bare minimum you request is complete relaxation. No parties, no worries, no discussions; it’s the perfect way to welcome the weekend.

What you don’t want is to get jumpscared before you can even step in, a certain teal-eyed dude the first thing your eyes see.

“Fuck!” You are tempted to close the door, maybe it’s all your imagination and when you reopen he, the Itoshi, won’t be there anymore. But you don’t live in a fantasy world, sadly, so you know you’ll have the accept your fate.

“What happened?” It’s your friend’s voice screaming from the kitchen.

“Nothing, I’ve just seen a cockroach.” You reply with a monotone voice, closing the door with your foot.

You look better at the intruder, sitting on your couch. One hand has the remote, zapping between the channels, the other lying on the top of the furniture, fist keeping up his head.

He turns to look at you “Did you see yourself in the mirror?” And the sudden urge to hit him with the house key pervades your body. You groan at his comment, but decide to drop the topic; you have no energy to get angry.

“Oh, sorry I didn’t tell you before but Sae is staying with us this week. His apartment is flooded and all his teammates couldn’t help him out.” She comes into the living room with a bowl of…freshly cut vegetables? You suppose it was your guest's request, as much as Elisa likes carrots there is no way this was a choice born from her brain.

Now you know why she didn’t tell you anything about it. You would have taken a hotel room and made Elisa pay for it if you knew what was going on. He, at least, thanks her and it surprises you because you thought he didn’t know what manner are. Or common courtesy.

“I’m going to change into something more comfortable.” You sigh, your mind already adjusted to the idea of having that dude in your house. ‘It won’t be forever. Calm down. Don’t shout, don’t get angry.’ You repeat to yourself while wearing the comfiest pj in your wardrobe; you need it.

When you go back into the living room the film was already chosen, but you don’t mind, so tired that you know you’ll fall asleep the moment your head hits the pillow. The chat gets louder and definitely pick your interest.

“We both go to medical field universities! I finished my studies at home and as you know I work here, but-“ Elisa points her index finger at your figure, a fluffy cover hiding your body all crouched up on a side of the couch not to touch, or just get near, the guest “She is still studying to become a doctor! She will stay here one year and then she will need to go back home to finish her studies, right?” You nod at your friend's words, now looking at the film.

“The film isn’t bad.” You whisper, humming in agreement.

“It was my choice.” A deeper voice replies back, it’s Sae.

You look at him until you meet his teal eyes. You see an equal amount of tiredness in his eyes and you seem to silently agree not to sassy reply back.

You are able to look at the film without falling asleep, at times you can feel Elisa asking stuff to Sae but you are too distant to understand what they say. There is a pang of jealousy that stabs your heart, usually, you chat with Elisa while watching films and you don’t like the idea of being substituted by him.

You try to brush away the feeling. Maybe she is the one who has a crush on him, and even if you think she has questionable taste you won’t put yourself against their love. You yawn the second the end credits start to roll. You decide to go to bed, since you have no strength to add yourself to their pillow-talk, in the shared room you have to Elisa.

“I’ll come soon too.” She whispers while you nod, walking away; probably she wants a moment with her crush. You don’t even hear her opening the door, your brain voyaging dreamland the second your head hit the pillow.

You are the first to wake up in the morning, you step toward the kitchen trying not to wake up your roommate, and start to prepare coffee for the both of you. You are so used to making it that it becomes an automatism. It’s when the moka is on the fire that you start to look around, noticing a package that definitely wasn’t yours or of Elisa.

“That’s mine.” You hear croaking behind you, the sound makes you jump on your place.

“Yeah, it seemed pretty obvious. What is it? Some kind of tea?”

“Yes, it is salted kombucha tea. Want to try it?”

You snort and Sae looks at you questioningly, probably thinking his pronunciation is wrong.

“I hate tea. I’m team coffee.” You say pointing with your thumb to the moka, now gurgling a sign that your coffee is ready. Sae looks at you with disgust, a face you know pretty well by now.

“We are really different.”

“I was thinking that too.” You say now giving him the back to take the cups on the high shelf, a spoonful of sugar in your cup, nothing in Elisa's one.

Meanwhile, he has moved, opening the window of your kitchen. Summer is starting but the weather is still acceptable, morning breeze is a nice way to freshen the house.

“You want to make your own tea or I can do it for you? Do you trust me?” You say smirking, already knowing the answer.”

“I prefer to make it myself.”

You nod, a Chesire smirk plastered on your face. You point out where he can find the kettle, now sitting on the table, right next to the window, your head supported by your right hand.

He soon sits in front of you with his cup of tea, he looks outside for a moment, giving you the possibility to admire his features again.

He has a nice jaw, his skin is pretty smooth, probably he doesn’t have much beard, his upper lip is arched perfectly, his lips plump but not too big or better, they suit his face. His nose is slightly pointed upwards-

“You like to stare.”

Your head slid comically; you got caught, again.

“It happens when I look at beautiful stuff.” Really, the comment slips from your mouth before you can bite your tongue. But you feel him choking on his tea and it soothes the pain.

“You are also bold.” He looks at you with furrowed eyebrows, with such hatred in his eyes you almost worry to have done something way worse than throwing a compliment in his way.

“I just like to joke around.” You smile in your cup, a smile that grows wider when his eyebrows comically drop.

You hear him clicking his tongue, but you don’t say anything more.

You both finish your beverages, but Elisa is still sound asleep.

“Shouldn’t you wake her up?”

“Today is her free day, let her relax a bit.” You reply, putting his cup into the dishwasher.

You see uneasiness in his eyes, there is something he needs to tell you, so you make the first move as a good host.

“Is there something you need?”

“Usually I do yoga and meditate. Can you go out.” He formulated it as a request, but it sounded like an order in your ears.

“Can’t you do it in the living room? Or your bedroom?” You propose.

“My bedroom is too small. There are no windows in the living room and I’d prefer to breathe fresh air.” You nod, his reasoning makes sense and there isn’t else you need to do in the kitchen.

“Can you teach me?” You propose half to piss him off, half because you suffer from terrible neck pain and you know yoga could help you out.

You notice how bad he takes it and you bask in the sensation of being finally able to take a rise of him.

“Don’t you have to go to university? Or I don’t know, student stuff?” He says it fast and makes you chuckle.

“It’s too early! I have all the time of the world now.” You get near him, trying to muster up the nicest puppy eyes ever done “I swear I’ll be a good student and won’t joke around.”

“No.” Your nice façade drop.

“You are a real pain.”

“Look at yourself before saying that.” He looks at you with the same eyes as your encounter. The best choice is to leave him alone, and you do, but not without grumbling.

When you enter your bedroom Elisa is wide awake, already dressed for the day reading a book, a fantasy you guess knowing her taste.

“Mh? Elisa why are you here? You didn’t want to have breakfast with Mr. Sourpuss?” She clearly didn’t notice you entering the bedroom. She closes the book and smiles at your comment.

“I didn’t want to bother your bonding time.” She sing-sangs, book placed on the night table.

“Is this a way to force me to like your new boyfriend?” Your eyes pierce her figure, muscles tense, trying to grasp any twitch or wince on her face. But nothing comes, if anything she replies to you with a pure laugh, not a fake one.

“I don’t see Sae that way, you dunce-“ Elisa stands up, hands now on your shoulders shaking you “I really think you can get along, please give him a chance.” She says exasperated.

“Tell him that, he is always an ass with me, and please-“ You say removing her hands from your shoulders “Stop playing Cupid, it’s really not your job.” You go towards your wardrobe ready to change for the day while Elisa keeps whining but no words get registered in your brain.

You don’t see anybody for lunch, so you spend a quiet afternoon at home, reviewing your notes and refreshing the lesson of the previous day.

Elisa is the first to come home, there is still light outside thanks to the longer summer days and she helps you out cooking dinner.

“We have to cook something healthy, you know-“ She winks “For our guest.”

Damn, for a second you forgot about him. “Shouldn’t he cook? So we are sure to prepare the right stuff.”

“I don’t know how to.” You hear from the living room, it’s his voice. You walk to the living room and you see him, freshly showered you guess from the soft soap smell coming from him and with two bags containing what you guess is food.

“I asked my private chef to cook for all of us.” He says placing the bag on the coffee table in the living room.

“Thanks, Sae!” Elisa says “Let me take these to the kitchen, I’ll prepare the table.”

“Do you need help?” Elisa brushes off your question “I know how to put a tablecloth and cutlery.”

To you, it sounded like an excuse to make you stay alone with the redhair.

“Thanks, Itoshi.” You hate how his surname rolled on your tongue, but you had to accept it.

He nods, removing his jacket and hanging it on the coat rack. You don’t miss to notice how at home he already feels; for sure he has good adaptation skills.

“So, how was your day?” You try to small chat, to break the unbearable silence it was already forming.

“Like always.” His answer is curt, but you can’t understand if it is because he doesn’t want to talk or just because it is him.

“And yours?” This surprises you.

“It was a good day. I was able to take a lot of good notes and the lesson was interesting.”

He nods at your words “I suppose it is hard.”

“Yes, but it is also really rewarding. For example-“ You start to blabber, and you notice it but you can’t stop, excitement guiding you even if you know your interlocutor has little to no interest in what you are saying. Embarrassing.

“Hey! It’s ready.” It’s Elisa that save you, stopping your blabbering. “What were you talking about?” She asks, curiosity evident.

You’d like to reply but you are too astonished by the food in front of you. Everything looked mouth-watering, you didn’t even know food could get such vivid colors, not to talk about the smell-

“She was telling me about her cardiac surgery lessons.” Sae replies for you, thankfully your eyes are already comically wide thanks to the food in front of you so nobody notices your surprise at his words.

So he was listening?

“Oh! I’m happy you are finally knowing each other, but now let’s eat! We don’t want the food to get cold.” You both nod at Elisa words and damn the food was as beautiful as it was delicious. There is not much chat, enjoying the meal in silence, just the background sound of the television to keep you company.

“Hey, you should accompany Sae to the aquarium one of these days.” Elisa says with a voice full of cheer. It doesn’t take much for you to understand where she took that idea, the advertisement of the aquarium still going on television.

“Well, it all depends on Sae, he has really strict hours-“

“Let’s go tomorrow. I have no training to do.” He says, no real force behind his words like he is just accepting his fate.

You gasp a bit “Oh, okay then. Is it fine in the afternoon?”

He nods, slurping down some of his cold noodles, you can only wish your technique will ever be as good as his, not a single drop of oil staining his shirt or mouth.

The dinner ends quietly, you place the crockery in the dishwasher and go directly into your bedroom.

The morning comes awfully quick and you feel even more tired than when you went to sleep. You proceed with your morning routine, not Elisa nor Sae insight so you take it easy. After you prepare yourself you go back to your books, your attention often grasped by anything going on.

Your attention gets caught one more time by a notification on your phone; it’s Eliza.

“Got a cute lunch date with a cutie. Try not to kill Sae and have a nice date <3” Ugh. She can be so pushy at times. You sigh and notice the hour, it’s time to eat.

When you enter the living room you notice Sae already made himself comfortable on the sofa.

“I didn’t hear you coming in.”

“I tried to be silent. I was doing yoga so I didn’t make much sound.” He replies, boredom dripping from his voice as usual. You nod “Are we blessed again by your chef's food today or I’m on my own?”

“The latter.”

“Oh! Can I make you piadina? It’s an easy dish to make.”

He turns around, teal eyes finally looking at you “What are the ingredients?”

“It’s easy! It’s more or less a circle of bread that gets folded this way and you can choose how to fill it.” You walk near him and show him the screen of your phone, the picture on it the perfect example of a perfect piadina.

“So…I can choose something different than fried potato, right?”

“Yes, you fill it with whatever you want. Simply sausage and fried potatoes with pepperoni is a classic match.” He looks at you with disgust, and at this point it makes you laugh.

“Not a fan? I swear the match is heavenly.”

“Aren’t you a doctor? You should know fried potatoes are toxic to the body.” This time you chuckle out loud.

“Fried potatoes are the last thing you should worry about between the ingredients I told you. And anyway-“ You sign to him to walk with you towards the kitchen “You won’t die eating it once in a while.”

“I don’t know anything about this stuff. I just go with what my manager and dietologist tell me.” He replies, pointing to the fridge with the ingredients he wants.

“No? For real?” You start to cook his one, the guest always comes first.

“Yeah, other than football I don’t know much else.” You notice a hint of sadness in his voice, irises darkening a bit and it tickles something in the back of your brain.

“Well, next time why don’t you help me cook? You may have a personal chef but it is nice to have different skills.”

He nods, he doesn’t burst with joy, but he seems serious. You give him his dish, arugula, and tomatoes. You do the same, half because you like the match and the other half because you don’t want to prepare other ingredients.

You eat in silence, something you already expected.

“Are you ready to go to the aquarium?” You ask, putting the dish in the dishwasher.

He nods giving you his one. Previously Sae asked you if you wanted to go by car “If you don’t trust me I can always call my driver” but you refused his offer, telling him that you’d bring him there gladly and with the perfect vehicle for such a sunny day.

“Good, get ready because my vehicle is amazing.” He bends his head a little, confused by your words, but doesn’t inquire more. He supposes it will be a surprise.

For sure it is a surprise, but not the good kind.

“It’s a bike.” His voice drips venom, but you brush it off.

“Not just a bike, it’s a graziella! Perfect to carry people on the back!” You say, slapping the bike rear-rack.

“It’s too low, it will be uncomfortable for my legs.” He retorts but you don’t desist, smiling back at him.

“In fact, you don’t have to sit, you have to stand up on it on completely trust my skills.” The face he makes is pure comedy, it’s a mixture of scared, anger and, as always, disgust. “C’mon mister Itoshi. I swear you can trust me, not even a bug will hit your precious legs, let alone the ground.” You hear him gulp and see the gears in his brain running, you wait a few seconds but the answer finally arrives.

“Okay, but if something happens to me you’ll pay with interest.” You nod and smile back sitting on the saddle. You soon feel the bike moving under you with the added weight. You start to pedal not wanting to lose balance and make you both fall on the ground and his hands immediately find support on your shoulder, gripping tight on them.

“Let’s go!” You shout, the bike is harder to manage but you push forward. The ride is silent, the summer breeze dancing around you two, only gasps can be heard from the guy standing on the back when you take a hole making both the bike and Sae jump. His hands aren’t as tight on you anymore, probably he is trying to trust you as best as he can, it’s pleasing to think he is starting to trust you, the feeling runs to your head becoming a pink fog that makes you feel dangerously well and uncaring. You are sure you would look like a postcard if someone took a photo right now, you feel so peaceful that it’s hard to imagine you look bad right now.

Dangerous because you almost don’t notice that you arrived at the aquarium, pulling harshly on the brakes almost making your guest jump off the bike if it wasn’t for his hands harpooning your shoulders.

“Sorry-“ You say in between your teeth, wincing at your mistake. You hear him scoff but he decides to not salt in the wound.

“Put the bike there, I’ll pay for the tickets.”

“Are you sure? I can pay for my own-“ He doesn’t even listen to you, walking to the ticket office without looking back at you once.

The visit was actually really fun, for you at least, Sae never expressed any kind of emotions, the corners of his lips a line that never twitched upwards or downwards. You see teals eyes looking around, but it seems nothing catches his attention. At least he stops when you ask, not a groan of disapproval, not a happy smile either.

“I like penguins.” You say looking at the glass separating you from the cute bird wobbly on its feet. A gasp of surprise escapes your mouth when one of them dives into the salty water to stop exactly in front of you. You pull at the end of Sae’s shirt, the excitement going straight to your head, too busy being ‘a finger apart’ than ruining your guest's clothes. You shout in happiness but the sound is drowned by the squalls of kids around you.

“I can see.” Finally, a hint of a smile appears on his face, but you are now too busy looking back at the penguins to notice it. Meanwhile, Sae is too busy looking at the features of your face, looking for once at you, not looking down on you. The blue and soft lights of the aquarium make you look like a dream, the joy in your eyes matching your smile.

Something moves inside him, it’s pleasant but it fades in a snap of a finger when you face him again, prompting him to walk towards the next glass. You talk about colorful jellyfish or something like that. It’s not that he is interested in anything there. After all, he accepted Elisa’s offer not to sound too rude even for his standard. But he thinks, that moment of happiness on your face was in part worth the deal.

Not that you’ll notice head entirely elsewhere.

“It was nice. Thanks for paying.” You are now outside, bike on hand while you walk near the seashore. The wind is stronger there, and more than once you shrink in your place, while the guy next to you is perfect, as always. A porcelain doll crafted by the most expert hands ‘too bad they didn’t lose another minute to work on his personality, tho’ you think.

“No problem. Can we stay here a minute longer?” Sae asks, but he is already still, as always it was an order, not a question. You nod, the sun is setting, painting the sea warm colors, waves are big but reduced to nothing when they arrive so near your feet. You see him breathing in, eyes closing to enjoy the moment.

“Do you like the sea, Itoshi?”

“Yes. I used to always visit the beach with my brother.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you have a sibling! Is he hot?” You chuckle, blossoming in full laughter after he sides eye you, annoyance mixing with the green of his eyes.

“He isn’t your type.” He clicks his tongue “You like handsome guys and he is not.” His voice is flat, as usual.

“Handsome guys? Yeah, I like them, obviously but why do you have this idea of me?”

“Simple-“ a smile, a real one, grace his features “You like me.” You gasp at his world, pushing his shoulder, but his body barely move.

“Mister Itoshi, your ego is way too big!” You puff out your cheeks, but there is no real anger in your words.

“Sae.”

“Mh?” The silence lasts very little but it feels like an eternity.

“Call me Sae.” His teal eyes link with yours. His voice is low, serious and makes your knees wobble a little. He looks happy, the sun painting beautiful shades on his fair skin. It’s honestly a breathtaking sight.

“Okay, Sae. Your ego is still too big!” You break the tension, too heavy all of a sudden. Too intense for two strangers who couldn’t even suffer each other.

Just too much.

The spell is broken and you see him wince, ‘probably he didn’t want to sound so intense’ you think telling him to go back home. The ride is silent, when midway it’s Sae who decides to talk.

“Why are people looking at us weird?”

“Maybe because you are a football superstar?”

“No, the look when people recognize me is different.” You hum, but you come up with another motivation quick.

“Maybe because you are the one being carried! Usually is the guy that carries around the woman.” You state, no malice in your words. He is silent for a few seconds.

“Let’s switch.”

“You don’t have to worry, I don’t care about this-“

“I said stop pedaling and switch places with me.”

“Stop ordering me around! Plus if you have never done that there is no way you can keep me-“

“If you don’t switch I’ll jump off the bike, I’ll hurt myself and do you remember what you promised me this afternoon?” You feel more of his weight on your shoulders like he wants to remind you of his upper position, just figurately now “I’ll make you you pay, remember?” It’s the same voice he used on you the first time you met and it made you reflexly pull the brakes, this time slower so he could jump off without any risk.

He sits on your place and clicks his head, as a sign for you to stand on the back.

“But if you hurt me? What do I gain?” Your voice is wobbly, not trusting him at all. Your hands grip tightly on his shoulders and you are sure there will be a red sign there tomorrow.

“I’ll kiss it better. Now shut up.” He starts pedaling, not checking you once. For sure you didn’t like his answer but jumping off now sounded like a good way to sprain your ankle.

“Do you know at least the road to go home!?” He takes a hole and makes you jump, you suppose it’s the karma for how you drove before

“…okay. Talk just to tell me where to go.”

You arrived home, safe and sound. You don’t kiss the ground just because you don’t want to act overdramatic, but feeling the ground under your feet with no wounds on your legs seems a real miracle. Elisa welcomes you both with a big smile, her eyes are tired but you notice a drop of happiness in her eyes so you do not worry. The week goes by naturally. You and Sae don’t banter as often, but calling what you have a friendship would be a stretch, Elisa still tries to push you into something more, but her attempts are failures, if not disasters most of the time. Thankfully Sae doesn’t dig further, not that he cares since he is so sure you have a mind-numbingly, heart-shattering crush on him anyway.

The real surprise comes when he goes back home, everyone is back to their normal life ‘till one day receives a message from an unknown number. It’s not a text, but a picture of you two, of when you were going to the aquarium since you were the one pedaling. There are ginormous texts on the sides probably it has been published by one of those gossip magazines you tend to avoid.

“Who are you?” You text back, and an answer will not be long in coming.

“Sae. Elisa gave me your number.” You smile thinking how happy she probably was when Sae asked for it. She was probably giggling like a schoolgirl.

“Why did you contact me? It’s a problem if we were seen together?”

“No” A dry texter, exactly what you expected.

“Then let me say; we really looked beautiful.” You write it with a heart bursting in happiness. You both looked happy, your faces radiating joy. You may not be an earth-shattering beauty but nobody would have been able to sincerely say you looked bad.

“We did.”

You are happy to know he feels the same.

5 months ago

You are at a beach party. Honestly, you would rather be somewhere else but after closing yourself for two months at home to pass your exams you need a bit of fresh air. Summer is now leaving its place to autumn, the days are still long, but at least the temperature is acceptable. Stars are shining high in the sky and everyone seems to enjoy the party. You wear a cute dress, ‘the one for good occasions’ you repeat to yourself. It’s not tight, the skirt is large enough that you can easily move around, but it hugs your waist before getting larger again on the chest area-

“Hey-“ Elisa elbows you “Sae is sitting on the couch all alone, why don’t you keep him company.” She laughs but this time it isn’t for the alcohol; she is just dumber because she could get with her crush, Leonardo. Actually, he was the one to set the party all teammates and their partners invited. You actually came thanks to Elisa's invite, but you would be lying if you said that it didn’t matter seeing Sae.

Something more keen to a friendship developed between you two during these months, the messages you exchanged a clear sign. What surprised you the most was that he also was the one to start conversations, asking if you were fine, checking if everything was okay. You had no other occasion to meet in person, between matches and studies you both had your hands full, so you don’t mind actually catching up with him.

“Hey sourpuss, it has been a while!” You plop down on the couch next to him. He widens his eyes in surprise, looking like a scared kitten, before returning to the bored expression, not even greeting you.

“Not even a hello? Bad night for our Casanova?” You chuckle as he clicks his tongue knowing full well you are teasing him.

“You know I’m not interested in a romantic relationship.” He is bored out of his mind and you decide to tease him some more…maybe you drunk too much.

“Well, it seems to me you are liking that girl over there. Your eyes are glued to her-“ You can’t finish the phrase, his index finger pressing against your lips.

“I never thought you were one for physical contact.”

“Never know you liked to drink this much either.” He takes the drink from your hand and takes a sip from it. “It actually tastes good.”

“I know it, you big bully! I just wanted to cheer you up and I get treated this way.” You whine. The redhead looks at you for a minute too long, pondering what to do, when his hand decides to find the crown of your head, patting you.

“Shh baby, everything is fine.” It’s a smile full of mirth and it reminds you that he is really handsome, in case your memory fails you. You must look like a pathetic cat in front of him, all pouty and a bit stupid thanks to alcohol.

“I just wanted to spend some time with you.” You whisper out, but for sure he could hear it, getting closer to you. This time you don’t see any mirth in his eyes, back to his usual seriousness so you decide to be direct with your feelings. “I missed you. That week living together made me really change my opinion of you.” This time you don’t whisper and you see Sae getting taken back by your words, batting his long lashes at your words. You can’t hold his gaze so you fix yourself on the fire in front of you, made to perfectly set the beach party atmosphere.

“Then we should meet more often.” You look back at him, but this time it’s Sae looking elsewhere, not at a specific person on the dancefloor, simply looking in front of him. “Taken with moderation it’s nice talking with you.” It’s his usual sarcasm and you feel melting, like he just removed a heavy weight you didn’t even know to carry.

“Okay, let’s promise!” You hold your pinky out and it makes Sae raise his eyebrow.

“I appreciate you wanting to integrate my culture, but we stop doing that after elementary sch-“

“Shhh, don’t break the magic! Just do it!” He sighs before rolling his eyes but at the end, he gives up intertwining your pinkies together.

“From now on we promise to see each other more often, like good friends!” The words roll from your mouth carelessly, even if you are serious about it. You feel Sae tightening your grip on your pinkie at the ‘good friends’ part but you don’t give it much importance.

“Are you next week?”

“Yes, I am now that exams ended! Do you have something in mind?” You ask a bit too excited.

“My manager told me to participate in a cooking video or something along those lines. He said it would be good for my image and they pay a lot, but-“

“You hate not being prepared, right?” You interrupt “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you a mouth-watering recipe!” And you compliment yourself for being really smooth when your hand, linked to his just by your pinkie, perfectly slides to hold it, palm to palm but not bold enough to intertwine fingers. Sae doesn’t jerk away from your touch if anything holding your hand tighter before nodding at your words. He holds your gaze and just then you notice how close his face is to yours, how there is just a whiff separating your lips…

“It’s time for the toasts! Everyone come!!” The shout of one of Sae's teammates awakes you both from the moment separating you two as quickly as you got near to each other. You don’t talk much to each other the rest of the night and you decide not to overthink what just happened, you probably drank too much and he probably was too tired to tell you to step back. For sure beach liked to play tricks on you.

Obviously, not overthinking was easier said than done, even with a pounding headache your mind started to wander and it only got worse when Sae texted his free day, to which you replied with a thumbs up. You aren’t worried about the recipe to make him cook, you have done it countless times and your mother sent you the right ingredients not so long ago. You are worried because maybe you are harboring feelings for him and you’d hate to tell him he was right all along. You can already see his smile, going from one ear to the other; you can accept being rejected, but not being made fun of.

Thankfully Lady Luck is on your side the day you finally meet up, but in a wicked way, making the chain of your bike drop something you had never to deal with. So when you hear the bell ringing your mind goes in tilt not being able to choose if panicking for your bike or for the guy in front of your door.

“Hi Sae.” You whisper out, leaning on your door.

“You are dirty.”

“Is this some new kind of dirty talking-“ He pushes you to the side, entering the house.

“So what happened? You look like a flea that just swam in petroleum.”

“You are always so delicate Sae.” You slump your shoulders before explaining what happened “I tried to watch a video to fix it myself but it was no use.”

“I can help, where is the bike?” You look up, hope shining in your eyes.

“Oh the garage is the first left door at the end of the corridor, but are you sure-“ Sae already walked away, the squeak of the garage door telling you he got the right door.

When you reach him he is already on his knees, fingers deftly working to put the greasy chain in its place.

“Done.” He flips the bike as easily as you’d flip a pancake, not even a sneer of fatigue appears. “Anything else?” You are shocked by how fast he fixed it.

“Aren’t you the one that doesn’t know anything other than football?”

“Yeah, but I had a childhood too. My little brother always messed it up. Do you have anything to wash the grease off?” You nod wanting the clean yourself up too.

“Now that we are all cleaned up, let’s cook! Today I want to teach you how to make tortellini, a type of stuffed pasta, have you ever heard of it?” The red hair waves his head left and right, you see curiosity in his eyes and it makes something bubble in you. “I have already done the filling, it’s easy to make later I’ll tell you the ingredients, but now let’s focus on the dough. As you can see I did a little fountain with the flour and we will have to put the yolks and the eggs white inside, like this-“ You show it to him, his teal eyes still fixed on your movements “Now grab a fork and start to mix, not everything together, just a bit and then always more until you can start to knead with your hands.” This is the worst part, the dough is hard and you need a lot of strength to mix it to perfection. “Wanna give me a hand?” You gasp already tired. He nods, but you didn’t expect him to help in this way.

His right hand locks with yours, the other already at the bottom of the dough, and his chest is impossibly close to your back. You feel his chin on top of your shoulder, his breath hitting your neck.

It’s intimate, too intimate for your standards.

“H-Hey thanks but you don’t need to hug the chef to do it, you know?” You chuckle awkwardly, trying to move your head far from his, but his body caging you doesn’t let you move far.

“Mh? Sorry I thought it could work better. Feeling how your fingers work on the dough and everything.” It sounds like a poor excuse even for your ears, but you brush it off his arms not blocking you anymore; probably he just needed affection or something like that.

You move to the side, watching him knead, but your eyes soon travel up, to his face noticing a new detail…

“You have freckles?”

“I get them when I tan, I hate them.” The corner of his plush lips turn downwards, his hands working harsher on the dough.

“Why? They make you more human.”

“What are you saying? That I’m a cyborg?” He stops, green irises gazing straight into yours.

“I’m saying that looking ‘imperfect’ makes you more beautiful Sae.” You say it as a universal truth, your voice doesn’t waver, and your eyes don’t either. This time it’s he who has to break the eye contact, you see him biting his inner cheek.

“So now?” He points at the dough.

“Now we have to roll it out. We should use a rolling pin, but it is too much of a pain so we’ll use another device-”

“No, let me do the old way. I’m not a weakling like you.” His voice drips of malice and the urge to knock his head with the rolling pin is harder than ever.

“Okay then, use it. I’m curious to see how you’ll handle it.” Sae takes it from your hand and tries to use it. The shape wouldn’t even be bad if it wasn’t so poorly distributed, some places thin others awfully thick, plus you can see he isn’t using the right muscles, making him more sore than he should be.

“You are terrible, can’t you see it all has different thickness? Move let me show you how to do it.” You push him away, no real force In your movement but he moves away, giving you the rolling pin with a provocative demeanor. “We say you have to make love with the dough, use your hips like this and you won’t have to use all your arm strength. Now do it.” You give the utensil back, Sae nods eyes filled with concentration.

Too bad he keeps making the same mistake. You click your tongue “Sae, do I have to teach you how to make love?” You snicker when he sides-eye you.

“Okay mister icicle, let me show you again how to do that.” Your hands lay on his hips but you look at his face to understand if you crossed any boundary, but he doesn’t say anything, to say the truth he doesn’t even look at you, so you take it as consent. “Instead of using just your arm strength, help yourself with a push of the hips like this-“ You move it synched with his hands twice, before letting go of the hold you have on him. “Yeah, that’s exactly how you should do it!” You notice Sae smiling, it lasts very little but it is there and you feel really proud of his work.

Then you teach him how much filling is needed inside and how to close them up.

“I can’t do it, my fingers are too chubby, see?” The half-made tortellino’s dough tears in his hands that are, in fact, a bit too chubby to deftly close it.

“Hey, don’t trash it away! You can’t fix it but you can always have…an early taste.” You reply, winking at him.

“But won’t it be dangerous? The filling is cooked, but the pasta-“

“I swear you won’t die superstar, I’ve done it countless times and I’m as healthy as you are.” You say smacking his shoulder, but by the look, the redhair isn’t fully convinced. “C’mon try it!” You spur him like a granny urging her nephew to eat her home-cooked meal.

The shine in Sae’s eyes after the bit of food hit his tastebuds is a telltale sign that you really nailed the recipe. Not that you had any doubt to start with.

You finish closing them up and invite him for dinner telling him that Elisa is out so she won’t mind. Sae refuses your offer, his manager needs to see him so they’ll dine together.

“Well at least bring back home a bag of these!”

“Won’t you die of starvation?”

“Don’t act stupid, I won’t give you them all, I’m not that nice!” You prepare two servings “In case you want to share a meal with a special guest.” He replies with a huff, but you don’t care, knowing well how he can be.

“See you soon Sae.”

“If that raw pasta will kill me my lawyer will bang at your door.” He replies already out and walking towards the driver he called before.

“Don’t be overdramatic, it doesn’t suit you, ice man.” He smiles back at you behind the window of his car but you can’t see him since it is tinted.

From that day you don’t hear him until the famous cooking video he told you about appear on your screen. Obviously, they made him cook something way easier, too bad he had a blindfold on and his teammate had to tell him what to do.

“I hope your teamwork works better on the football field.” You text him, a winking emoji at the end.

His answer doesn’t long in coming “Worry more about your exams.” It hurts you more than being run over by a car.

3 months before

“Sae can you pick me up?”

“Did something happen?”

“Nothing that bad, but could you?”

“Send me your position, I’m coming.”

“Thanks” You sniff.

You are not used to crying, or better, you are not used anymore. Years of university thickened your skin enough to be able to deal with most wounds.

Most, not all.

You studied hard for this exam, it was one of the few ones you had to do to finally get your degree, one step closer to reaching your dream. But you failed it, and now you’ll have to wait months before being able to take it again. You didn’t meet with anybody, barely talked with Elisa, and you share a bedroom with her, skipped meals to be sure not to lose time, and repeated the paragraphs till your voice gave out.

All of this for a fist of nothing.

You cried and gasped the moment you were far enough from the classroom. Weakness isn’t accepted and pity is a sign you won’t survive long in this world; this is what you’ve been taught. You forgot how shit you could feel while crying, how lonely you are. You wanted to call your parents, they have always been good at reassuring you, but then Sae's name was the first contact to appear and you clicked without thinking twice.

Maybe harsh love is what you need.

You regret your choice the second you hear the first thrill. He must be training, maybe he is in the sweet company of someone, you can already hear his ice-cold voice snapping at you for bothering him. But you don’t have the time to close the call, Sae picked it up and was coming to help.

You recognize the car, it was the same one that picked him up when he went back home from his house, but this time he is the one driving.

“Come in.”

You sit on the soft leather. While you waited for him you tried to dry up your tears to improve your current condition, but to no avail; eyes still red and puffy and some tears still escaping.

“Are you bri-bringing me home?” You brokenly say between gasps.

“No. What happened?” Sae’s eyes stay fixed on the road, raindrops fall on the windshield, ironic how the weather matches your mood.

He snaps his fingers in front of you, bringing you back to earth so you start to tell him what happened.

“I know I must sound so-so dumb but-“ Gasps keep interrupting you “I feel like a failure. Maybe I am.” You look at him, your vision is foggy due to the new tears, but this time he looks back at you. You didn’t even notice he stopped the car, now off the road.

But what it comes to surprise you. No harsh words, no sarcasm.

Sae hugs you, hands patting your back.

“Everyone fails, even cyborg guys like me. Everything can be fixed and a little misstep on the road doesn’t define you as a person.” He pulls away, face relaxed, and goes back to driving.

“One hamburger and a chips portion.”

Were you parked in a fast-food lot? You were so out of your mind and outside is so dark that you didn’t notice. You have been silent, still recovering from the hug and those words that sounded so encouraging and not like Sae at all.

“Why the chips? You don’t like them.” It’s the first thing you are able to blabber, at least you didn’t stutter anymore.

“This isn’t for me. It’s for you.” The redhair says putting the paper bag on your legs “Junk food can be nice once in a while. And stop crying-“ the back of his curled index finger swipes away a lone tear running down your face “I hate looking at ugly stuff and tears reduce you to a really ugly mess.”

Ah, the old Sae is back. You can finally recognize him, with all his rude comments. But something inside you blossoms while he drives you back home and you bite into your hamburger.

Does it mean he finds you beautiful every other time? You feel blood running to your face for a minute you hear a whistle in your ears, but you impose yourself not to bash your head around it. Now you have to find a nice way to explain the situation to Elisa without making her worried sick and hide who brang you home to avoid her dumb smile and endless teasing that would come your way. You look outside the car window, mind already wandering somewhere else.

In the end, Elisa discovered everything, for sure Sae insisting on bringing you inside crumbled to pieces your plan, and your mood was too devasted to be able to efficiently hide your feelings. At least your attention wasn’t on the football star anymore.

Your mind already planned to think about them for the next weeks anyway.

Today. Night

“I suppose the date didn’t go as planned.” Sae doesn’t move, no intention of shielding your body under the umbrella.

“No, but it was my fault.” ‘Because I’m in love with you’ you add in your brain. “You want to know what happened?”

“Not really.”

“Bad for you because I’ll tell you anyway.” You joke between gasps. Sae doesn’t move away but he keeps looking down on you. “He was so nice, he took me to the restaurant and even wanted to pay. The small talk was incredible and we have a lot in common-“ You look down, not able to keep his gaze “But my heart is for someone who considers me barely a friend-“ Your hands now cover your face “And then when I arrived here to cry in peace a couple walked in front of me being all cute and I crumbled.”

“It could have been us.”

“Umh?” You can finally gaze back into his eyes, liquid fury while looking down at you.

“Who is the guy you have a crush for? The loser-“

“It’s you. You are the loser.” Your brain still struggles to phantom what is happening. You were freezing cold a few minutes ago, you couldn’t feel the apex of your fingers, but now you don’t feel anything.

But something inside Sae’s mind clicked before yours, the umbrella waving left and right, the grip on it clearly loosened.

“You are an imbecile.” His words are sharp knives on your body, but you can’t grasp in pain because something is pressing on your lips.

Sae is kissing you, his cold hands gripping you by the collar of your dress to keep you close, raindrops fall down from his cheeks to yours, the umbrella is left abandoned in a bush, the wind tearing it apart.

“For how long?” He pulls you up from the bench, his right hand gripping yours while the left one is on your back.

“The exam fail.” You whisper almost in a trance “And you?”

“Let’s go home-“ He starts to run out from the park, calling for a cab to bring you both to, you suppose, your house. You notice him looking around, probably searching for a place to shield your bodies from the rain; not that you have much to protect anymore both wet from head to toe.

“It has been longer...Sae! That’s why you have always teased me.” You finally laugh shivers of cold and joy running down your back. “Sae!” You shout stopping in your tracks. Sae turns back but doesn’t have time to snap at you, this time it’s you kissing him. Your hands go to caress his cheeks, one hand sliding a bit back to scratch the back of his neck. You probably nailed the right point, because you hear him moan into your mouth. His hands slide lower caressing your waist to your hips, but never brave enough to go to your backside.

Or better, when you feel him sliding closer…

“Mister Itoshi, come in the car!” his driver came to pick you up, using the horn two times to announce his presence.

Sae looks at him, gnashing his teeth before looking back at you, his expression getting softer again. “Let’s go” he kisses you in between your eyebrows before pulling you towards his car.

“Okay, but you’ll have to tell me when you fell in love with me.” You feel the hold on your hands tightening, no need to look at his face to understand what’s going on in his head.

Maybe he’ll kiss you dumb to make you forget about that. Maybe he’ll be brave enough to propose showering together…your mind starts to daydream, maybe he won’t have the courage and you’ll have to take the reins, but one thing is sure.

You’ll both be happy.

#bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk imagines #blue lock imagines #itoshi sae #sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #bllk x you #blue lock x you

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symp4nat · 2 months

Note

Dior and reader act like they're in a relationship and they do things couples do like being touchy and calling each other nicknames which make the other cast members curious if they're dating and that basically makes them both realise that they have feelings for each other

(pretend that they're filming s2 and reader is one of the new characters)

thank youuu

"What are we?"

dior goodjohn x reader

warnings: nicknames, touching (not sexual), stupid idiots in love, fmentionss of making out, bad words

authors note: HI POOPY POOS ITS ME UR GIRL WSGG SORRY THIS IS LATE LLIKE IM ON A 8 HOUR SCHOOL TRIP SO I HAVE NOTHING BETTER 2 DO!

You were sitting on your foldable-director's (actor's) chair with your legs crossed as you watched your castmates all work on set. You had noticed Dior in a slightly bad mood and your eyes followed her as she walked to the bathroom. As you continued watching the team, you felt a hand squeezing your arm.

"Hey, you," a voice rasped. You could recognize that voice from a mile away. "You okay," you questioned as you turned around to face her, your best friend, the love of your life.. stop it, you aren't anything like that..

Dior stood on the side of your chair and ran a hand through your hair. She scoffed and denied, "What are you talking about? I'm fine, I'm all goo-"

You reached a hand up to her face and rubbed her cheek. "No, I mean, I kinda noticed, you looked uncomfortable o- or sad, I dunno."

Her nails gently scratched your scalp as she cooed, "I'm alright, baby, I'll tell you later, 'kay?" You looked down to cover the blush that rose to your face and nodded. "Go film, pretty."

She tucked some hair behind her ear and shook her head. "They asked me to come get you," she gently spoke as she looked down at you lovingly. "C'mon, bro, stop making out and get over here," Charlie teased.

You huffed and intertwined your fingers with hers and pulled her to the set. She admired the smile on your face and laughed. "We're friends, dude!"

Leah snorted, "Okay, big sis." You peered into Dior's dark brown eyes and squeezed her arm. "Go, I'll be on Set 4." Her lips landed on your cheek and said, "'Kay, I'll pick you up later. Stay safe."

When you had returned, a little bit earlier, you noticed Dior's hands on a girls waist, both of them wearing a camp shirt and lighting and a greenscreen behind them. Your eyebrows furrowed but you realized that it was the scene you despised.

Her eyes darted to yours and then back to the girl's. She swallowed the lump in her throat and the girl placed her hand on Dior's cheek. You clenched your jaw as your nails dug into your palms. As you walked away, Dior sighed, but continued with the scene. She placed her lips onto the other girl's and imagined it was you, her girl, standing right in front of her.

authors note: forthesakeoftheplot,lets pretend, sea-of-monsters, hasakisswithclarisseandsomeoneelse

Later, Dior knocked on your trailer. "Out, home time, let's go!" You opened the door and barely glanced at her as you placed a waterbottle in her hands. Her eyebrows furrowed and she looked at you confusedly. You got into her car and shut the door as you impatiently waited for her. Once she got in, she played some music quietly as she drove and hummed along with it.

You were drumming your fingers on the side of the car door and Dior groaned, "Please, talk to me, lovey..."

And so you snapped. "What are we? Do you think I'm okay with all of this? I'm okay with you just- just messing around with me and acting like we're in love?! That isn't right; none of this is!"

She parked the car in your driveway, but you wouldn't relent. "I hate it, I hate acting like we're best friends one moment and then lovers the next! Choose something and fucking stick with i-"

Dior pulled you in for a kiss, a gentle, loving kiss. As your lips moved in sync with one another, your eyes fluttered shut in relief. You pulled back, gasping for breath, and Dior said, "There, I love you. I'm in love with you, doofus."

"I like you too, love, I mean love," you said softly. "And um... I gotta go so yeah.." Dior nodded and once you opened the door, she grabbed your face. She pecked your lips and then kissed you longer again.

From the outside, you were beaming as you closed the door and entered your house. On the inside, you were screaming in excitement. You jumped around in your living room and checked your phone as you felt a buzz.

D <3

i can see u, yk?

its cute btw :)

cya tmrw x

A grin formed on your face as you collapsed onto your couch. Maybe this was love, who knew.

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x y/n #percy jackson #clarisse pjo #clarisse la rue fluff #pjo fandom #clarisse la rue x reader #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #clarisse x reader #dior goodjohn x reader #dior goodjohn #dior #dior goodjohn imagine #dior pjo

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lowkeyerror · 2 months

Text

The Family Business Ch.3

WandNat x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Chapter Notes: Mentions of death, violence, underaged drinking, slight mentions of SA, lisichka=little fox

Summary: Natasha has heard stories of you from Wanda. It has her doubting your current day skill level. With Dragos and Wanda in a meeting, you get the chance to tell her a bit about the person you've become.

An: Finally something between Y/n and Natasha (I say finally as if this isn't chapter 3 lol) Anyway enjoy this chapter and see you back next week.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

You could feel Natasha’s eyes on you as you worked. It was tedious work, but you typed away with a smile on your face regardless. You thought that maybe she’d pick up her phone or something, but she seemed to just watch you.

“You want to ask me something or you just going to keep staring?” You kept your eyes on the computer screen as you addressed her.

“You’re different than Wanda said you’d be,” was all that she said.

You finally looked at the red head, “Well like I said, it’s been a while since she has seen me. A lot has changed in the years she’s been gone.”

“Like what?”

You paused your work to give Natasha your full attention. You sat back fully in your chair pondering back to the last time you saw Wanda. “Well, she left before I graduated. Back then I thought I was going to take my degrees, find an honest job, and live a normal life. I was fragile, even after the self-defense training. I hadn’t held a gun, I hadn’t hacked into anything, I was just a little girl.”

“And now?”

You gesture around you, “Now, I have this nice office. I crunch numbers for the most high-profile company in town, that just happens to be a front for a criminal organization. I have 2 degrees, I can defend my family and myself, I’ve shot a gun more times than I can count, and I could hack into anything that you could imagine.”

“You’ve got a ledger?” The line about the gun seemed to stick out to Natasha.

You shrug your shoulders, “I’ve carried my weight.”

“How many?”

The question startles you a bit. It was so candid as if she was asking about the weather. You could see them, the people you had killed. It wasn’t a large number, not even in the double digits, but still.

“7.” You don't know what compelled you to keep speaking,” I remember all of them. What is it they say about the first one? You will never forget it. I was 20, it was before I joined the organization. Pietro had dragged me to some party.”

“I take it you weren’t a party animal back then?”

You chuckle and shake your head, “Not even a little so I did what everyone does to get comfortable at a party. I took a few shots, it was stupid. As a light weight and someone not of legal drinking age, I should've been more careful. The shots had loosened me up, so I was enjoying the party for awhile. I lost Pietro at some point, but I was too drunk to notice.”

You see Natasha frown a bit, but you continue, “The host of party finds me on the dance floor. We dance for a while; we don't say much, just hi. Someone spilled a drink on me while we were dancing. He offered to get me a new shirt. Like the innocent little idiot I was, I followed him up to his room.”

You paused, almost feeling like you were back in that moment. You could feel everything again, your skin was hot and sweaty, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, you could feel him on you.

Natasha could sense she lost you to the memory. She got up from the couch in your office to make her way towards you. She took a seat on the edge of your desk and pulled your hands into hers. “What happened in his room?”

“He tried to take advantage of me. He tore my shirt off just so his gross hands could grope my skin. He pulled me against him fiddled with his belt before trying mine. His breath was hot on my neck as he peppered kisses on my collarbone. When his hand slipped into my pants, is when it really clicked in my head. I had told him to stop, but he wouldn’t. You know the kind of guys that say, ‘you want this’ or ‘you teased me all night’ or ‘You’re the one half naked in my room’. He was one of those, no wasn’t going to cut it.”

Natasha squeezes your hand as you recount the harsh memory. It looks like you could cry right there in the office. Then all of a sudden, the tears pooling in your eyes are gone. A blank expression takes over your face.

“For a minute, I pretend I’m into what this creep is doing to me. Only enough for him to loosen his grip on me. At this point my back was against his front. I reach behind his head, like my arms trying to loop to bring him closer. Except one of my hand rests on top of his head and the other one is on the opposite side of his jaw. I snapped his neck. His body hit the floor like a sack of potatoes.”

“Y/n- “

“I threw up when I saw him. After I was done, I called Pietro, he found me upstairs with the body. He felt so guilty for leaving me, but I could tell he was surprised too. So surprised that fragile little Y/n had snapped someone’s neck.”

Natasha’s eyes bored into yours, “That asshole deserved that. He deserved worse.”

“He didn’t rest even in death. Dragos made sure of it. He made that family’s life a living hell. It was a message to the entire city that I was under their protection. If anyone so much as laid a finger on me there would be dire consequences.”

A silence filled the room. Natasha didn't remove her hand from yours and you didn't ask her too. You glanced back at your computer, knowing you had to finish your work.

“Wanda never said you were fragile, just delicate,” Natasha’s fingers drew patterns on your hand.

You shake your head, “Wanda has always had a way with turning something negative into a positive. I never saw the difference between the two words, but she’d always say- “

“Fragile things break quickly into millions of pieces under the slightest pressure,” Natasha starts as if she had been there when Wanda said it to you.

“If you were fragile, you wouldn’t be here with us. You’re delicate, beautiful, intricate, and deserve to be handled with care,” you finish with a fond smile on your lips.

“For what it’s worth, I think she was right,” Natasha returns to her space on the couch to allow you to keep working.

She finally pulls out her phone seeming to have relaxed a bit because of your vulnerability. You want to refocus on work, but there are some questions that are nagging you about the woman in your office.

“How did you two meets? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Natasha ponders a minute for a suitable answer, and you take note of it, “The short version is that we met at work.”

You raise an eyebrow, “And what did you do for work?”

“Guess.”

You let your eyes look over the woman. You took in her relaxed posture, the muscles hiding under her shirt, the way she allowed you to be vulnerable with her, the mischievous glint in her eye. She was a multifaceted woman, you could tell.

“Spy, a Russian spy to be exact.”

Natasha seems slightly surprised, “How’d you guess Russian?”

“Romanoff sounds suspiciously close to Romanov, common last name in old Russia.”

“You’re a smart lisichka aren’t you?”

A blush takes over your features, “Little fox is new, but you’re stalling, Natasha.”

She crosses her arms across her chest, “Well I was formerly spy, turned into assassin for hire. I was anonymously hired to kill Wanda.”

“Too charming to kill?”

Natasha sighs, “I tried, but she was just too good. We started this rivalry, playful banter, suggestive tones, I spent a lot of time trapped under her thighs. It got to the point where I didn’t want to kill her, I had terminated the contract, but I just kept coming around to see her. She told me that my skills were being wasted on petty assassinations, when I could be working for her. I said the only way I’d consider was if she went out with me. The rest is history.”

“Leave it to Wanda to seduce an assassin.”

Natasha laughs, “Hey, she only seduced me because I let her.”

“Whatever you say super spy. I’ve got to finish this work before we have to leave for dinner.”

“Flora might have your head if you show up late,” Natasha comments.

You press the small button on your desk, “Thanks for reminding me. Kate, do you think you could get me some hydrangeas for Mrs.Maximoff.”

“Of course, Y/nn, anything for you,” she responds cheerfully.

You roll your eyes, “Thanks Katie.”

With that you're back to working. Though Natasha pulls out her phone, you still feel her eyes on you at time. It sends shivers up your spine, yet you don't want her to stop looking.

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername

#lowkeyerror #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #wandanat x reader #wandanat #pietro maximoff

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janaispunk · 3 months

Text

nights are so starry, blood moonlit

pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

word count: ~1.4k

summary: Javi and you are neighbors. And friends with benefits, in a way. Things become… heated.

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), smoking, mention of alcohol consumption, able-bodied reader, Javi pulls reader’s hair, dom!Javi, sub!reader, unprotected p in v (it’s never stated in the fic but i headcanon that reader is on birth control), rough sex, dirty talk, Javi is a menace, a hint of angst and feelings because it’s me and if they’re not fucking while denying their feelings it’s not my fic okay

a/n: written for @iamasaddie’s moodboard writing challenge that was SO fun, thank you aly <3 this literally poured out of me, i wish writing would always feel like this 🫠

beautiful moodboards by @hellishjoel 🫶🏻

dividers as always by @saradika-graphics 🫶🏻

find my full masterlist here and follow @janaispunknotifs for fic updates!

It’s the hottest day since you moved to Colombia, and probably the hottest that you’ve ever felt in your life. Sweat is all over your skin, pooling on your spine at the small of your back and making your dress stick to your damp body.

You groan as you open the door to your flat, the still air inside the small space somehow even more suffocating than you felt outside. You kick off your shoes and walk over to the fridge, letting the coolness wash over you for a few seconds while you just stand in front of the open door, your eyes almost slipping closed at the sudden reprieve from the sweltering heat. With a sigh you eventually grab a water and reluctantly shut the door again, pressing the cold bottle against your neck as you step out onto your tiny excuse of a balcony, hoping to catch at least the smallest bit of a breeze.

It’s just as hot outside and you flop down on the single plastic chair that you have and fumble for a cigarette, when you notice your neighbor on the balcony next to you. Javi looks as gorgeous as always, as you begrudgingly have to admit to yourself. While you’re sure that you look like you’re on the verge of a heat stroke, his shirt clings to his body in a way that makes your mouth run dry. As always he has one too many buttons undone and the perspiration on his chest has you dreaming of licking the sweat off his skin. He catches your stare and quirks an eyebrow at you, an amused smirk playing around his lip.

“You’re home early,” he drawls, leaning back against the railing.

“So are you,” you note, raising an eyebrow in return. “Slow day at the office?”

He closes his eyes for a moment. “Quite the opposite.” His scowl makes it clear that he doesn’t want any follow up questions and you shrug, busying yourself with unscrewing your water bottle instead.

A moment of silence passes between you before he raises his voice again.

“You free tonight?”

It’s a question that you’ve heard many times before, or some variation of it. You’re not a thing, Javi and you, not really. It’s just nice, to have a little company sometimes, in a city where, after months of staying here, you still feel like you barely know anyone. It’s fun. Stress relief. No strings attached.

You want to protest at first, thinking about how it’s about a thousand degrees, how you already feel the sweat on your skin again and you’re not even moving. But then you picture another lonely evening in your apartment, another bottle of wine drank in solitude while watching some crap on your small TV.

You look up at him through your eyelashes, mirroring his smirk from earlier.

“Yeah. Sure.”

Now you’re bent over the back of his couch, his cock roughly pounding into you as your skin feels sticky against the leather, moans falling from your lips with every thrust.

His fingers are digging into your hips and he’s pulling you against his body relentlessly, the intensity of his thrusts never faltering. His lips had been on yours as soon as he pulled his door open, pressing you against the wall and hands grabbing at your ass beneath your dress. You had basically thrown yourself at him, the rough way he handled your body only adding to the fire that was already burning through your veins and had wetness pooling between your legs.

He had skimmed over your underwear with his fingers and pulled back when your hips bucked against his touch, a chuckle rumbling in his throat.

“Missed me that much?” he had grinned in that smug way of his that made you want to roll your eyes.

“No,” you had grumbled, somewhat unconvincingly, threading your fingers through the dark hair at his neck and slotting your lips over his again, the coarse hair of his mustache scratching against your face and his tongue in your mouth until all that mattered to you was feeling him closer, feeling all of him.

He had taken you right there, with your panties pushed to the side and the neckline of your dress pulled down to reveal your tits to him. He had mouthed at the sensitive flesh while his cock plunged into your pussy, stretching your walls, making you whimper at all the sensations that washed over your body.

You were close to the edge when his movements slowed down, his breathless pants hitting your damp and heated skin. Your eyes had widened in mild surprise, taking in his flushed features, his hair turned into a sweaty mess by your hands.

“Need a break?” you had teased. “You’re losing your touch, Peña.”

You could almost see the way his eyes turned darker and his features hardened before he slid out of you and yanked you away from the wall, walking you into his living room.

That’s how you ended up where you are now, his cock hitting you from behind, reaching so deep inside of you that every thrust makes you see stars behind your eyelids.

“Fuck! Javi, please,” you manage to whine as your breath is repeatedly punched out of your lungs. You can already feel your orgasm, it’s so close, you can almost taste it on your tongue, a band waiting to snap.

“Losing my touch, huh?” he growls from behind you, reaching up to grab a fist of your hair, pulling you upwards while his other hand finds your tit again and pinches your nipple. His grunts in your ear drive you insane with want for him.

“N-no, I’m sorry, fuck-”

The different angle and the quick shot of pain from your breast set your body on fire and you clamp down hard around him as your orgasm breaks free and waves of pleasure crash over you. You think that you’re shaking in his hold, babbling an incoherent string of thank yous and his name while he fucks you through your high, never relenting in his thrusts, even when your orgasm subsides and you’re twitching away from the overstimulation.

“You’re gonna give me another one,” he demands, losing the grip on your hair and pushing your body forward again.

“Javi, I can’t, please,” you try to protest, but he sneaks a hand between your legs, slides through the slippery wetness and finds a home on your clit, rubbing slow circles over the sensitive spot. A shudder runs through you at the sensation.

“You want me to stop?” he asks, his tone making it abundantly clear that he already knows the answer.

“N-no,” you admit, your hips pushing back against his again, your body desperate for more.

“Then quit your whining and do as I said.” His voice is raspy; you know him well enough, have fucked him often enough to know that he’s close. His fingers on your clit speed up. “Give me another one.”

Before Javi, you wouldn’t have thought it possible to come that quickly twice in a row, but you’ve accepted some time ago that he has a power over your body that you’ll never understand.

It feels like only seconds until the sensation of his cock dragging through your pussy and his fingers on your clit build up again and bring you to your peak once more. You pulse around him, hoarse moans leaving your mouth while his hips still and he spills himself deep inside of you, his moans mixing with yours.

He pulls out gently and helps you into a standing position, leading you to sit on his couch and cleaning you up quickly.

You never linger after your visits to his place, always quick to slip back over to yours. It’s too much intimacy, too raw, just- too much.

It’s what you do now, heaving a sigh as you lean back against your closed door. You splash water on your face, trying to cool your body down. You’re gonna need another shower, feeling like you’re drenched in sweat, but first, another cigarette.

When you step out onto your balcony for the second time that day, Javi is already there on his side, still shirtless, blowing smoke into the dark night. You sit down on your chair and prop your feet up on the railing, the one that he’s leaning his back against, eyeing you.

Neither of you talk, but it’s nice, you think, not being so alone.

thank you so much for reading! if you liked this, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment, it always makes my day <3

#✏️ game #janas fics #javier peña #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x reader #javier pena narcos #narcos fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier pena smut #javier pena fic #javier pena one shot #javier pena x f!reader #javier pena x female reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrostories #pedro pascal characters

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lizard-on-a-window-pane · 10 months

Text

The Reading Chair

pairing: Remus x reader

tags / warnings: NSFW! (minors do not interact), smut, smut, and… more smut; established relationship, sex, fem!reader, slight praise kink

notes: written as a continuation of my previous fic, but either can be read alone; the only context is that in this au remus and reader opened a bookshop together

word count: 2.9k

“I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for coming in,” you say with a smile to the last customer of the day. You’re completely knackered as you turn the sign from “open” to “closed” behind her. It had been a hectic day, the kind you were grateful for in the grand scheme of it all but ready to wrap up by its end. You’re rubbing your tense neck as you make your way back over to the counter, where there remains work to be done. You’re having to read the words and numbers over and over again to make sense of them, your mind not in it at all, as you look guiltily over at your book sitting beckoningly next to your paperwork. A break won’t hurt, you think to yourself. I’ll still get all this done later. I just need a little energy first. You snatch up the book and head to your comfy armchair in the corner, delving into the next chapter that you’ve so eagerly been anticipating.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been reading when you hear the door open and close. You see his messy brown hair over the shelves before you see him fully.

“Y/N?” Remus’s voice calls. “Hey, Rem,” you speak up. He walks past the counter, around the shelves to your reading nook and leans against them, observing you intently with an adoring grin on his face. You stick your tongue out at him.

Laughing, he tells you, “You know… When I think of you when we’re apart,” he starts moving slowly toward you. “Which is most of the time when we’re apart, if I’m honest…” A self-satisfied chuckle as he gets closer. “I usually picture you right here. As you are, right now.” He kneels in front of your chair and gives you a quick kiss in greeting. “So beautiful.” His eyes travel your face. “With your nose in a book.” He grabs your book from you and places it on the table. You go to complain, but he stops you with a knowing look, a cheeky grin, and continuing, “And your legs in this weird position you find so comfortable.” He’s chuckling as he runs his hands up and down your thighs. You uncross your legs and let them rest on either side of him; he keeps rubbing them. You wrap your arms around his neck. “Is that so?” you tease. “Mmhmm,” he confirms, kissing you again, lingering longer this time.

“I usually think of you naked,” you tell him, and he breaks into a barking laugh.

“Oh yeah?”

“Hm,” you nod, smiling warmly at him. He moves his hands up your sides and rubs your shoulders a bit. You let out a long, loud sigh you didn’t realize you had pent up. “Long day?” he asks knowingly. You just nod. It’s a little odd with his sitting in front of you, but he begins massaging your neck and shoulders. “I’m sorry I had to go during the rush,” he says sincerely. “Don’t be silly, Rem. That was for work, too. And it’s good — really good — business going up. And I can handle it.” “I know you can, lovely, but I don’t like seeing you so drained.” His hand caresses your face then rests in your hair and scratches at your scalp soothingly. It feels wonderful, sending tingles down your spine. You hum and lean into it. With your eyes closed, you miss the way his eyes travel down your torso. His grip in your hair gets a little bit tighter and his thumb traces the curve of your jaw. “I can help you relax, you know…” He sounds different. You open your eyes and see the way he’s looking at you.

“Oh?” Oh.

“Mmm.” His sound is guttural, and you’re not sure if it’s meant to mean “yes.” His hand on your hip tightens then slips under your shirt. “Here?” you ask, meaning to sound skeptical, sounding slightly desperate instead.

“I locked up behind me,” he tells you as he closes the distance between you and kisses you hard, his tongue immediately plunging into your mouth. You kiss him back ardently. His hand moves up your body, grazing your stomach then your chest, then resting on your neck. His hands now on either side of your face, he holds you firmly before gripping it and moving your head sideways, kissing down your jaw and neck slowly and sloppily. He stops at the sensitive spot below your ear and sucks. You moan and inadvertently rut forward. You feel his smile against your now moist skin. His teeth graze over your pulse point, and he keeps heading lower, pulling your shirt down out of his path as he kisses his way to your collar bone. He licks across it then just nuzzles into the crook of your neck. “I want to make you feel good,” he whispers hoarsely, and your whole body shivers in response.

“Remus,” you sigh. “I want to. Fuck, I want to. But maybe we should wait till we go home.” You’d messed around at the shop before, but never further than this. He shakes his head “no” where it rests flush with your body and kisses your neck as he says, “Uh-uh. Too long.” He leans back, pulls your shirt over your head, and connects your lips again urgently. You melt into him and kiss him back with matching passion. His hands are everywhere as you make out then they come to rest on your bare hips as he stops the kiss but stays close, his forehead resting on yours, his breathing heavy.

Staring into your eyes, the hint of a smile across his swollen lips, he moves his fingers painstakingly slowly up your back. You’re slightly sweaty and extremely turned on, and you shiver again at his touch. He bites his lower lip as he unfastens your bra. You feel the weight of the loss of the support, and it feels nice. His hands come up to the straps and they pull them down equally slowly. The slightest motion would make the cups fall forward now, but you stay still, staring at him from under lidded eyes and long lashes. His hands come up to where your chest becomes your breasts, and his fingers caress down with a light touch until he reaches the tops of your bra cups. He continues the motion seamlessly, dragging the fabric down until it drops into you lap. His hands still floating above your breasts, featherlight touches electric, he brings his thumbs to your quickly hardening nipples and runs them across once lightly then again roughly. You whimper in response, and he tweaks your nipples between his fingers, abandoning the teasing, pushing and tugging harshly. Your whimpers grow louder, and he swallows them with a rough kiss before quickly moving his head down and wrapping his lips around your hard nipple. Moaning as he sucks on your tit, he kneads the other, and you hold his head to you with a firm grip in his hair. He runs his tongue around and around the bud then gives it a long wet lick before sucking it into his mouth again and humming around you. You’re loud now as the pleasure shoots through you, and as he switches from one breast to the other, planting a kiss in between them along the way, he gruffly tells you, “Fuck, I love your noises,” and after sucking your other nipple harshly adds, “and your tits. Fucking hell your tits.” Your chuckle mutates into a screamy moan as he bites carefully down on your aching bud, his tongue playing with it between his teeth. He bites and licks, kisses and sucks, and when he’s through playing with you, he kneads your chest roughly with both hands as his mouth kisses yours forcefully. You squirm in the seat as you push your tongue into his mouth and your chest into his hands.

Both of your breathing is coming loud and laboured as he pulls back and stares at you for a moment. With his panting mouth open, he smiles brightly at you, brings his forehead back against yours, and moves his hands to the button of your trousers.

The idea of protesting flitters across your mind, but unable to find a good enough reason not to give in, a fraction of a second later, your hips are in the air to aid in his removal of your trousers. You’re sitting there in only your knickers, wet and panting, and he pulls further away than he has since he came down to you.

Looking you over with almost black eyes, he chuckles and says, “Sorry, love, but I have to commit this to memory. You’re so fucking hot, I think I’ll get off on this for the rest of my life.” You laugh lightly and ask, “Still going to think of me reading when we’re apart?” You stick your chest out and open your legs wider. His eyes rolling to the back of his head, he groans animalistically and instinctively grabs the bulge in his trousers at the sight.

“Sure I will, lovely. Just naked too.” And with that, he delves back into you, starting at your mouth and worshipping his way down your neck, your chest, your stomach, till his face was even with your cunt. He nuzzles it playfully, and you whine, your hand coming to his hair and pushing him into you as you rut up, making him chuckle darkly.

“Don’t worry baby,” he teases. “I’ll take care of you.” His tongue, strong and flat against you, licks over your panties from your opening to your pubic bone. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this wet before,” he says, high on it. You whimper and rut again.

He sneaks a finger into your underwear where it’s soaked at your entrance. He separates the fabric that clings to your skin with your wetness and caresses up and down your folds, examining your cunt with the utmost scrutiny as he does. You’d think you’d feel shy at this, but the look in his eyes and the feeling in your core set you on fire, and you fucking love it. You open your legs as wide as you can, and with an eyebrow quirked, he looks up at you and smiles. “Good girl,” he tells you for the first time ever, and you mewl loudly and melt into the chair. He’s surprised at the intensity of your reaction and tries it again. “You like being my good girl, Y/N? my best fucking girl?” You nod vehemently and your grip on the armchair threatens to damage it. “Fuck,” he laughs. “Then I’d better make my favourite girl feel good then, huh?”

He pulls your panties to the side and licks up your folds several times, lapping the dripping arousal. He detaches his mouth from your lower lips, and you whine, but he’s only swiftly ripping your knickers off before latching on again, moaning into you. He sticks his tongue in your hole, and you half gasp half scream in response. He continues fucking into you with more and more force, his nose sending godly pleasure through your clit with each thrust and shake of his face.

“Remus, Remus, Remus,” you pray, your thighs shaking. He hums into your hole then starts sucking on your labia till he reaches your clit and sucks there. You cum all over his face. He hums and sucks and vibrates as you scream. When your shakes become shivers, he pulls off, licks your cunt from bottom to top, plants a kiss on your clit, then brings his face back to yours. It’s shining with wetness like never before.

“You’ve never cum like that,” he says amazed. “You’ve never eaten me like that,” you retort. He’s biting his soaked, swollen bottom lip and beaming. He runs his tongue slowly around his lips, lightly humming at the taste of you. You whimper at the sight, and he chuckles. “I like you all whimpery like this,” he teases. You feel your cheeks warm and move your hands to your face, but before they even reach it, Remus grabs your wrists and pins them back down against the arms of the sofa chair. “Uh-uh, lovely. No hiding. You’re too pretty, and I’m too needy. I need to see you.” He stares into your face then looks you up and down, his gaze lingering on your still dripping cunt, your heaving tits, your blissed out face. “Holy fuck, you’re my goddess.”

You smile, equal parts shy and cheeky, and you confess to him, “I want to suck you off now,” with a boldness you hardly ever have in bed.

His eyes roll to the back of his head again, his knees weaken, and he pleads, “Please.”

You push him off of you and maneuver him into the chair. He’s yanking his shirt off while you pull his trousers down. When you’re both fully naked, without ado, you immediately wrap your lips around his rock-hard cock and start bobbing your head up and down. He whimper-yells in a way he never has before, and the sound propels you faster, deeper. Remus grunts rhythmically as you swallow him down, both hands in your hair, holding on for dear life, the occasional rough tug sending pleasure rippling down to your cunt. Your hands grip his thighs, vice-like despite the slipperiness of his now sweaty body. He lets out repeated “baby”s and “fuck”s and “please”s and “yes”s with increasing desperation, punctuating each sharp fast thrust of his hips.

You feel his thighs give a particularly violent shake, and knowing what that means, you pull off of him. The look on his face is of devastation, but his head goes back in excitement when he sees what you have in mind. You’re climbing onto him. He scoots down the armchair to give you some room to straddle him and brings his hands to your hips to help you in place and give some much needed stability.

Gripping the back of the chair, your other hand grabs his throbbing cock and guides it to your entrance. Remus is staring at where you’re about to be connected like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s seen in his whole life. To him, it is. You feel him enter you, and you clench in complete pleasure. He hisses sharply at the sensation of penetration and lets out a continuous “ahh” as you sink further and further down, your grip on his shoulder bruising. When he bottoms out, you clench and give a little bounce, and you smile at his desperate reaction. He’s nodding vigorously, biting his bottom lip, staring at your tits, gripping your hips with the full force of his strong hands. One of them goes up to clench your breast as you start bouncing on him, slow and hard for several thrusts before picking up the pace when you find a stable position. It feels incredible. The control you have over the drag of his cock against your walls drives you crazy both physically and psychologically. You bring your hips up and down repeatedly until you’re a whimpering, shaking mess above him.

Completely out of breath, he asks, “Can I?” You know what he means and nod, holding on tighter as he then starts thrusting feverishly up into you, fucking you in full force from below. It’s knocking you up and down vigorously, so you bend over more to rest your forearms on the back of the armchair. With this change in position, your tits are now smacking against each other with each thrust — right in front of Remus’s face. He goes feral for it, and starts sucking on one of them, his hands not leaving their grip on you but moving down to squeeze your arse as he pushes into you over and over.

From between your tits you hear — and feel — him give a distinctive yelp, and you rub aggressively onto him with every ounce of energy you have left, giving your clit the friction it needs to push you over the edge right along with him.

“Fuck!” he yells as your walls clench impossibly tighter and milk him of the cum that’s rushing out of him. You yelp at the sensation, and the strangled sound continues through the end of both your orgasms.

Your body gives, but Remus hums contentedly at the weight of you, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you with a chuckle. You lay like this for several moments, his hand running up and down your back, the slipperiness becoming stickiness as the chilly air licks at your still wet bodies. You shiver at it, but you’re so spent and so happy, you don’t struggle off of him yet. His softening cock still buried inside of you, Remus brings your face to his to give you a gentle kiss and adoring grin.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to relax in this chair again,” you whisper in a giggle. “I’ll get flustered just looking at it.” His laugh is warm and full, and he gives you a squeeze.

You kiss him and linger, and he says, “You know, with all the stress and everything…” a kiss, “I think it’d be good for us to make this our closing time routine.”

The sound of your laughter is muffled by his next kiss.

#remus lupin #remus x reader #remus lupin smut #remus x you #remus smut #remus x y/n #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #marauders #marauder x reader #marauders smut

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joonie-beanie · 10 months

Text

Side-Gig | [Peter B. Parker x Reader]

Pairing: Peter B. Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter gets worried about your apparent “side-gig” and goes snooping, only to discover your side-gig is writing Spiderman smut on commission.

Contents: Fluff, Smut, Consensual Sex, Pussy Eating, Banter, Friends to Lovers???

Author’s Note: I swore off posting fics on tumblr, but since this is just a one-shot, I figured why not. I think Peter B is charming, had to write a lil smth smth for him. And by that, I mean a 7.1k wordcount fic.

You and Peter Parker are friends. Not best friends, but pretty good friends.

You like to say you’ve looked out for each other over the years. You don’t talk all the time, but it’s kind of an unspoken promise that when one of you needs someone to lean on, the other person will be there.

Which is why, when Peter and MJ separate, you make a point of inviting Peter over for meals.

At first, he turns you down every time you ask, and you know it’s because he’s wallowing—depressed about his situation. And that’s understandable. You can’t exactly say you know what he’s feeling, but if you put yourself in his shoes, you’re sure you’d be a little bit fucked up about everything too.

Therefore, you give him a little space—wait for things to settle and for Peter to come around.

Except, Peter takes it all way worse than you expect—going radio silent after your third invite in two months. Then, you really start to get worried (and also a little mad that he’s ghosting you).

So, you manage to scrounge up his new address using some internet-sleuthing skills, and show up at his door. When he opens it, he’s dressed in a greasy wife-beater, worn-out gray sweats, and white socks with a hole in the toe.

“Jesus Christ, Peter.”

You spend that evening scolding Peter and letting him cry it all out—handing him tissue after tissue as he blubbers about everything on his mind. When he’s finally done, he apologizes for ignoring your last call, and thanks you for looking out for him.

With a smile, you assure him you’ll always have his back, and that now he really has to come over for dinner, because he owes you.

Laughing, Peter agrees. And luckily, he sticks to his word.

Since then, you and Peter make a point of doing dinner twice a month—typically at your place, sometimes out at a restaurant, but never at Peter’s. Not until he deep cleans his messy apartment, and you know that won’t be happening anytime soon.

Tonight, you’re at a restaurant of your choice—a local Italian joint. Peter arrives late, per normal, and you wave him over when you see him walk in the front door. He immediately spots you and hurries over, his eyes darting to the plate of bruschetta you’d ordered for the table, that now only has two pieces left.

“Aw, that’s not fair,” he says, sliding into the booth across from you. He immediately reaches for one, shoving it into his mouth. You shrug, not sorry.

“That’s what you get for always being late. And if I waited for you, I’d be hangry by now. So really, you should be thanking me.”

“Uh-huh,” Peter says with a roll of his eyes, picking up the menu to see what it is he wants.

“So, how have you been? I know we just saw each other two weeks ago, but—how’s work?”

You sigh at Peter’s question, resting your chin against your palm.

“Fine, I guess. Work is cutting hours since things are slow right now, so I’m gonna be pretty strapped for cash the next month or two.”

Peter blinks at your response, staring at you over the edge of the menu.

“Should we be here then? We could just get the check now and go down the street to the bodega—”

“No—no, it’s fine,” you reassure him, taking a sip from your glass. From the look of it, Peter can tell the glass is filled with rum and coke—your simple, yet timeless go-to.

“This is kind of my last hurrah, y’know? Gotta get one last plate of carbonara in before I’m eating ramen and eggs for the next few months.”

“I dunno about that,” Peter responds. “Eggs are pretty expensive now—you might have to settle for canned tuna.”

You roll your eyes at him, yet can’t help the little giggle that escapes you.

“You’re the worst.”

“I know,” he says with a smile.

The waitress wanders back over, and you and Peter put in your orders. Peter also opts to get a drink (after all, if you’re drinking, why shouldn’t he), and a few minutes later, a cosmopolitan is placed onto the table in front of him.

You watch him with a wide smile as he picks up the girly drink and takes a long sip—his pinky sticking out and everything.

“You and your love of sweet drinks,” you say, swirling around the ice in your half-empty glass. Peter hums happily.

“Listen, this is way better than beer.”

Honestly, you can’t disagree.

“So,” he continues, picking up the previous topic. “Are you gonna be okay? Money-wise?”

It’s not like he has much help to offer. Being a masked vigilante doesn’t pay very well, after all, but still.

“Yeah,” you assure him. “I have a side-gig that brings in a little cash-flow, so that’ll help cushion the blow. But I think I should still be able to afford rent and some groceries. I’ll just have to budget better, y’know?”

Peter nods. “Oh, okay. Good—,” but then his brain repeats the phrase “side-gig”, and his words cut off.

“Wait, what kind of side-gig are we talking about here?”

Despite how long the two of you have known each other, Peter has never heard anything about any kind of “side-gig”. It’s a little concerning, honestly, since the two of you don’t really keep secrets from each other.

Although it’s not like you know he’s Spiderman.

“Yeah. It’s nothing illegal, I promise,” you tell him, your attitude remaining pleasant. Peter stares at you, waiting for you to say more, but your smile only grows wider.

“Not telling,” you say, laughing quietly to yourself when Peter huffs in annoyance and grabs his drink. “You’ll just have to trust me. I’d never do anything illegal—you know me.”

“I dunno,” he responds, a playful lilt in his tone. “In college I seem to remember you stealing soft drinks from the mess hall without paying—”

“Oh c’mon,” you shoot back, and Peter grins, knowing you hate when he brings that up. “We were already paying to go to classes! Why should I pay 3 dollars for a cup of watered down coke?!”

Peter laughs as you go on a mini tangent about how college is a ripoff—ordering both you and him two more drinks when your waitress stops in to check on your table.

After a short while, your food comes out, and the two of you catch up over the hot meal. Conversation flows like normal—touching on any other life updates, and also local news topics, and things of the like.

At your insistence, Peter splits a tiramisu with you to close out the evening, and by the time the dessert is gone, Peter thinks he may explode.

“Ugh, why did I let you talk me into that?” Peter groans, curling over and holding his stomach as you fetch enough cash from his wallet to cover half the bill.

“Well, if you were smart like me, you would have kept half of your entree to take home with you for later, and then you would have had enough room left for dessert. Which, by the way, is too good to waste—so don’t puke it up.”

Your waitress swings by to grab the bill, and you assure her it’s all set—passing her the small stack of money taken from both your and Peter’s wallets. She thanks you with a smile, and then scurries away, leaving the two of you alone.

You reach over the table, patting Peter’s shoulder.

“You’ll be fine. Your stomachs gotten bigger, after all.”

“Hey—,” Peter frowns, lifting his head. You’re already grabbing your purse and takeout box—sliding out of the booth. He quickly follows after you.

“Are you calling me fat?”

“No,” you respond, holding the door open for him as the two of you step out into the cool New York air. “You’re actually still surprisingly in-shape for someone whose diet consists of pizza and frozen meals. But, that being said, you can’t deny you’ve put on a few pounds.”

Peter places a hand on his stomach.

“Remind me again why you’re so mean to me?”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound getting lost in the crowd around you.

“You just make it too easy,” you admit, grinning up at him. Despite himself, Peter smiles back.

Being the gentleman that he is, Peter fully intends to escort you back to the doorstep of your apartment building, but—

His spidey senses tingle, and he can tell something is off.

“Hey, um,” Peter grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. Before your brain can even catch up, he’s yanking you into a quick hug, and then backpedaling towards the alleyway the two of you had just passed.

“Sorry, I just remembered there’s something I have to do. It was nice seeing you! Let’s touch base soon!”

He’s gone before you can even get a word out, disappearing around the corner. You stare after him for a moment, befuddled, and then continue on your way with a sigh.

Same ‘ol Peter.

Exactly one hour later, Peter collapses in a pile of trash—his lungs heaving, and body aching. The fight itself hadn’t been that hard—just a few wannabe criminals with deadlier than normal weapons.

No, the real challenge had been not barfing up his dinner while doing acrobatics across the city.

And maybe laying in a pile of trash to take a breather isn’t exactly helping his current predicament, but fuck—he doesn’t have the energy to move right now

Spreading out his limbs, Peter stares up at the smog-coated night sky, his mind wandering. He thinks about a lot of things—all the villains he’s fought in his time as Spiderman, the people who have come in and out of his life during it all, including you. You…who apparently has a “side-gig”.

…but like, what kind of side-gig?

Peter groans, knowing he won’t be able to let this go.

You can’t just drop the knowledge that you have a secret side-gig on him and then not tell him what it is!

And if you’re insistent on keeping it a secret, it must be something bad, right? RIGHT??

“Goddammit,” he grumbles, picking himself up. He swings off into the night, his mind reeling.

Peter lasts all of 3-days before he decides he can’t be left alone with his thoughts anymore—that he just needs to confirm what exactly your side-gig is, before his theories can get any wilder.

Because so far, his top guesses are that you’re either 1. Unknowingly acting as a middle man for some illegal trafficking operation, or 2. Providing “services” to New York sleazebags to get in their wallets.

And Peter knows it’s likely neither option—you’re too smart to get roped into something stupid. Plus, you had assured him it was nothing illegal.

But if he doesn’t figure it out, he thinks he may explode.

So…he goes snooping.

It’s not his brightest moment—using the spare key you had given him “in case of emergency” to sneak into your apartment one evening. (But to be fair, to him…this might just be an emergency).

He’d used his spidey senses to scope out your apartment before coming in, so he knows you're not home. Which is good, but…he doesn’t know when you’re gonna be back either, so he has to move fast.

Softly closing the front door behind him, Peter tip-toes across your apartment, deciding to start in your bedroom. He stands in the doorway for a moment, guilt bubbling up inside of him, but he decides to push forward anyway.

He’s just making sure you’re okay, he tells himself. You’re one of his closest friends, and you won’t tell him your secret—so it’s understandable he’d be worried.

Like the true Sherlock that he is, Peter starts with you dressers. He quickly checks each drawer—gently lifting up the stacks of clothes to make sure nothing is hidden beneath them. (The only time doesn’t is when he encounters the drawer with your bras and panties. He simply stares at them with flushed cheeks, rocking awkwardly on his heels, before he quietly closes the drawer. Surely nothing would be in there anyway, right?)

The small stack of papers on your nightstand ends up being recent receipts, and a manual on how to use the white noise machine you've apparently just purchased, considering it's sitting on the floor beside your nightstand, still in the box.

Getting on his hands and knees, Peter does a quick check under your bed, and freezes when he spots a covered box. He pulls it out without thinking, tugging off the fabric lined lid—

—and immediately slams it back down.

…veiny, pink, silicon—

Peter haphazardly pushes the box back under the bed, hurrying to his feet. He bustles into the kitchen with cherry-colored ears.

All-in-all, it takes Peter about half an hour to search your apartment, and unfortunately…he comes up empty handed. It seems like you have nothing to hide (except a box of sex toys under your bed, but Peter thinks that’s pretty understandable. You don't want dumb assholes like him accidentally finding it, even though Peter had—)

Sighing, Peter takes one last glance around your apartment.

“Ugh, I shouldn’t have done this,” he sighs to himself, taking a step towards the door. But—not watching where he’s going, he stubs his toe into the leg of your coffee table.

A curse leaves his lips, and your opened laptop—which had previously been dark—jolts to life. Kicking the table must have moved your wireless mouse, Peter realizes.

Having already decided to leave, Peter fully intends to continue on his way. That is…before he takes a glance at your computer screen and sees that you have it open to a Google doc titled: “Spiderman x Reader Commission #6”.

…then, he’s scrambling onto your couch and yanking your laptop towards him.

“Number six??” he hisses dramatically, his eyes scanning over the document so fast that he doesn’t actually end up reading anything.

He has to pause and go back to try again, but the second Peter reads the sentence “Spiderman’s cock strains painfully against the tight confines of his suit, his fingers twitching against your waist as he drags you in closer”, his brain effectively blue screens.

In a panic, he clicks into a different tab that’s open—landing on your email inbox, where a thread sits open. A transaction between you and an apparent “customer”. Someone who had contacted you in regards to your open “commissions”.

Hi there!

I saw you’re accepting commissions, and I really enjoyed reading the other Spiderman fics you wrote! Would you be open to writing one for me? Preferably a Reader x Spiderman, and a smut/fluff genre. Based on the rate sheet, I think I can afford it, but I’d appreciate it if we could talk more and discuss the final price based on the idea I have.

Thanks!

Holy shit, Peter realizes. Your side-gig is writing Spiderman porn on commission.

He sinks back into the couch, his mind whirling.

How long has this been going on?? Do you…are you attracted to Spiderman?? As long as Peter has known you, you’ve never really fangirled over Spiderman. If Spiderman had popped up in the news, the two of you would talk about him, but…that was it.

And now you’re writing Spiderman smut for cash? Holy hell.

Peter supposes he should be relieved that what you’re doing truly isn’t illegal. That you’re just making money in a mostly innocent way, from the safety of your home. Meaning, Peter can call it quits, and leave.

…but instead, he leans forward, clicks back onto the Google doc tab, and starts reading more.

The document is still a work-in-progress, but Peter scrolls back up to the top, wanting to see how you’ve managed to set up this scenario.

As it turns out, a villain had injected Spiderman with some sort of aphrodisiac, and the reader is a bystander, bravely offering Spiderman her services to get him out of this pickle.

While embarrassing to admit, Peter gets sucked into the story—impressed by your ability to write, and your portrayal of him—err, Spiderman. In fact, he gets so distracted by the story and the multitude of thoughts running through his head that his spidey senses don’t kick in until danger is right on his doorstep.

Or, in reality, you are on your doorstep—your key shoving into the lock on the door.

Peter’s heart nearly rockets out of his chest, his eyes darting to the window across the room. It’s closed, and even if he used his web shooter to rocket over to it, he wouldn’t be able to safely open the window and escape outside in the two seconds it’s going to take you to finish unlocking your do—

Before he can even finish the thought, your front door shoves open, and you flick on the lights—your gaze immediately finding Peter, who is still firmly planted on your couch, looking like a deer in headlights.

You stare at him in shock.

“Peter? What…? Why are you here?”

“I was…worried about you,” Peter responds, forcing himself to smile. And it’s not like it’s a lie.

“You said you were strapped for cash, and I…I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

You kick the door shut behind you, your purse and keys discarded on the small table beside your entryway.

“I thought I told you to just trust me?”

You face him with a hand posed sternly on your hip. You appreciate his concern for you, but it’s a little upsetting that he hadn’t just been able to trust your word.

“I know,” Peter responds with a sigh. He runs a hand through his graying hair, and your gaze flits to his ears, noticing how red they are. Why is he so flushed?

“And I’m sorry. I’m dumb, I should have. Trusted you, I mean. I’ll just—,” he pushes himself up, planning to excuse himself and run, but freezes half way to his feet.

He’s half hard. Fuck.

If he gets up now, it’ll be a lot harder to hide that—especially since he’s wearing sweatpants.

Making a lil noise, Peter eases himself back down onto your couch. You cock an eyebrow.

“...you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry…back spasm.”

“Well, you don’t have to rush out. You’re welcome to stay for a while if you don’t have anywhere to be.”

You flash him a smile and turn towards the kitchen. Peter watches you as you open your fridge and bend down—fetching two bottles of water from the bottom shelf. His eyes glue to your ass the second you lean over, and Peter punches himself in the knee—forcing his gaze up towards the ceiling.

He’s going fucking insane. He’s not used to being this…feral feeling. Arousal is usually one of the emotions that evades him nowadays, but here he is—done in by fucking Spiderman fanfiction.

Who knew he’d get turned on reading about himself fucking some nameless woman? And who knew that arousal would make him thirst after you?

(Honestly, if he thinks about it, it’s not that surprising. The two of you have been friends for years, and he feels comfortable around you. Not to mention, you’ve always been attractive, even if you do like to push his buttons—)

“Here,” you say, snapping him out of his internal panic. You plop down onto the couch next to him, handing him one of the two bottles of water.

Peter reaches out to take it, and you notice the sweat beading on his brow. Why the hell is he—?

At that moment, you spot your laptop on the coffee table—open, and still showing the commission document you’d left open earlier on. Your first instinct is to reach over and slam your laptop shut before Peter can see—

…wait.

Peter reaches forward to take the water bottle from your grasp, but when he grips it, you don’t budge.

Confused, he looks up—only to find you intensely staring at him.

“Did you read it…?”

Peter’s face heats up, his eyes darting to the side to avoid looking at you.

Busted…

You pulse races, embarrassment blooming in your chest.

HE DID, you realize. HE READ IT. Your fucking Spiderman smut!

“Ah, shit…,” you mumble, letting go of his water bottle and crumpling in on yourself. You curl onto your side, hiding your face in the couch cushion.

Feeling horrible that he has embarrassed you—having discovered something you’d tried to keep private—Peter hurries to try and smooth over the situation.

“Okay, yes, I did read it,” he starts by saying. “But…it was…really good! You’re a good writer, and I can see why people are commissioning you! You’ll surely make some cash with the skill you have.”

If he was smart, he’d have stopped there, but no—Peter keeps going.

“A-And hey! I’d be willing to help too. Y’know, help give you some inspiration for your stories—”

His voice dies in his throat, realizing what it is he has just offered. And obviously, you realize it too—your head immediately lifting, staring at him with curious surprise.

“Did you just…offer…to fuck? To help me with my stories?”

The insinuation is so insane that you can’t help laughing. Peter coughs, straightening his shoulders out.

“I think I’d be very good inspiration for Spiderman.”

“Really?”

There’s disbelief in your voice. Peter narrows his eyes.

“You don’t think so?”

You hum, uncapping your water bottle and taking a swig. Peter mirrors you, his throat feeling dry.

“Spiderman is…suave and heroic, and you’re…dorky. Smart, but dorky.”

Peter frowns. “I can be…suave.”

You cock an eyebrow, a playful grin breaking out on your face. Your heart is racing a million miles an hour, because never did you think you’d be sitting here with Peter, the possibility of sex between the two of you suddenly laid out on the table. You’d never deny he’s an attractive male, and maybe because it’s him, and because you’ve missed the feel of another human being, you end up saying—

“Yeah? Show me then.”

You lean back, waiting to see if Peter will make a move.

Unfortunately, the realization that you’re open to whatever is happening right now causes Peter’s brain to stall, and he takes a second too long to act—just long enough to allow doubt to worm its way into your head.

You’re putting him on the spot. And he’s still probably dealing with some complicated feelings from the split—you shouldn’t have poked him.

Without saying anything, you decide to try and create some space. You push off of the couch, padding towards your bedroom. You’ll make an excuse about needing to fold your clothes, or something stupid—and hopefully Peter will take what you’ve said as a joke, and will move on. Yeah, that sounds like a solid plan—

Pausing in the doorway of your room, you force yourself to smile, and turn to face Peter—only to find that he’d snuck up on you—your gaze meeting his chest the second you turn around.

“Pe—,” you’re only able to get the first syllable of his name out, your chin tilting back as you look up at him. The feeling of his palm cupping your cheek is what makes your voice die out, his chestnut eyes boring into you.

You can see the hesitation on his face. A certain lack of confidence that you’re sure stems from his past relationship issues. But beneath that, you can see desire. A craving for intimacy he hasn’t shared in a long time.

You decide to be the one to close the gap—pressing onto your toes, your palm resting flat on his pec as you lean upward—connecting your lips with his. You can feel his heart racing beneath your fingertips, and you silently convince yourself that if Peter backs out, you’ll be fine with it.

Luckily, he doesn’t. His brain finally kicks into gear, his arm wrapping tightly around your waist as he kisses you back.

You make a pleasantly surprised little sound, your arms lifting to wrap around his neck—effectively deepening the kiss. A wrinkle appears between Peter’s eyebrows, his grip on your waist tightening. Your chest presses flat against his torso, and he rubs his thumb against your cheek, obsessed with the plushness of your lips and the feel of you against him.

It’s been way too long since he’s been intimate like this…that’s apparent by the blood absolutely rockets into his dick.

Although, to be fair, he’d already been half-hard before this.

“You think our local hero gets hard this quick?” you mumble against his lips with a grin, giggling when Peter makes a noise of annoyance and nips at you.

“You’d be surprised,” he responds. He slots his thigh between your knees, backing you into the doorframe. His clothed cock grinds against your stomach, trapped between your bodies, and his muscles tense.

“Adrenaline can go straight to the dick sometimes…”

(Peter has lost track of how many times, after an intense fight—especially earlier in his career—he’d swung home and immediately jerked off).

“That’s fair, I suppose.”

Your fingertips coast up the nape of his neck, tangling in the messy hair at the base of his skull. You yank him downward ever so slightly, your lips connecting with the skin of his neck. He immediately shivers, the first of many embarrassing sounds ripping from his chest as you lick and suck at his flesh.

“Think Spiderman whimpers?”

You’re teasing him. As to be expected, given the dynamic of your relationship. But Peter doesn’t intend on taking it quietly.

“Maybe,” he admits, “If you make him feel good enough. But if you wanna know what I think—”

Peter surprises you by ducking down—his arms looping around your thighs as he lifts you off the floor. Your squeal, arms and legs instinctively wrapping around him since you don’t want to fall, but Peter carries you easily enough—striding into your room and depositing you onto your bed.

He doesn’t waste any time—quickly caging you down. His knee reclaims its spot between your thighs, rubbing incessantly at the dampening fabric covering your privates, and his lips find your neck—a shiver raking up your spine as his stubble scratches against your skin.

“Peter,” you gasp when his fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt. His fingertips ghost over your heated skin, brushing past your waist, and finding the clasp of your bra. You have to arch to give him room to work, and Peter sucks a hickey of approval into your neck. He debates telling you “good girl”, but the thought leaves him the second your bra pops open.

He needs your tits in his mouth.

“—I think Spiderman has a thing for boobs,” Peter says, finally finishing his earlier statement. This exclamation is followed with the immediate removal of your shirt and bra—Peter forcibly tugging them over your head and discarding them on the floor beside your bed.

The sight of Peter groping you and lowering his mouth to your chest is enough to have your heart skipping a beat, and you can’t help the mewl that leaves you when Peter sucks one of your nipples into his mouth.

Peter groans when your fingers fist in his hair, practically keeping his mouth trapped where it is, which he hardly minds considering he intends to lick and suck at your tits until you’re panting.

And, that’s exactly what he does.

He lavishes your chest with his mouth—relishing in the way your hips jump at each little nip of his teeth or roll of your nipple between his fingers. It’s embarrassing, honestly, how wet it gets you—your panties feeling quite wet as you continue grinding your pussy against Peter’s thigh.

You try and think of some smart response in regard to Peter’s opinion that Spiderman is a tit man, not an ass man, but words seem to be avoiding you. You can’t think of anything coherently when Peter is touching you like this. Especially when his face finally leaves your chest, his lips peppering kisses down the length of your torso.

You lift your head to look at him, propping up on one of your arms. Peter reaches your navel, but doesn’t stop, heading towards—

“Peter,” you pant, your face flushing hotly as you realize the path he’s carving.

Peter hums, his eyes flitting up and meeting your gaze just as he hooks his thumbs beneath the band of your pants.

“Another thing about Spiderman…,” he begins, kissing the skin of your tummy as he inches your waistband down your hips. You watch him with blown-wide eyes, chest rising and falling rapidly—excitement and nervousness mingling inside of you.

You lift your ass off the mattress to help him shuck you of your bottoms, and Peter smiles, tossing your pants on the floor beside your other clothes.

Never in your life did you imagine the sight of Peter sinking to his knees, his hands gripping your hips and dragging you closer to him—his gaze falling between your legs. Your panties are soaked, and the sight causes more blood to rush into his dick. He’s so hard that it honestly hurts—just a little bit—but Peter still doesn’t touch himself, because—

“...Spiderman loves eating pussy.”

“He’s a people-pleaser,” you quip breathlessly, your thighs quivering in Peter’s hold when he presses a kiss to your skin, right beside your panty line. He quietly chuckles.

“Maybe.”

Peter thumbs at your clit through your panties, relishing in the whine he rips from your throat. You hips buck in his hold, craving more, and when Peter sees the desperate look on your face, he decides to not tease you.

Peeling your panties to the side, Peter finally connects his mouth with your pussy—his tongue licking a wet, broad strip between your folds.

Oh, shit, you think to yourself, the muscles in your abdomen convulsing as you watch one of your closest friends eat you out. The whole situation is making you feel light headed, so you can’t help it when you collapse back onto the mattress, your fingers fisting in the sheets as Peter groans into your cunt.

He eats you like a man starved, his face quickly becoming covered with your arousal. His nose bumps against your clit as his tongue sinks between your walls, and you full out whimper—your hips needily grinding against his mouth.

Peter’s palm presses down on your pelvis, forcing your hips to the mattress. He doesn’t want you squirming—just wants you desperate and pliant. To see you cumming on his tongue.

His name falls from your lips again, more debauched than he’s ever heard, and Peter curses.

“Shit.”

His tone is guttural, and sexy, and—

He presses a finger inside of you.

“Oh, fuck, Pete—,” his name deterorates into a moan, your brain function declining as Peter begins fucking his finger inside of you. At the same time, he focuses his mouth on your clit, his tongue urgently flicking against the bundle of nerves.

You unconsciously wriggle at the assault of stimulation, but Peter’s hand on your stomach keeps you in place.

Why is he so strong? You think to yourself, moan ripping from your chest as Peter slips in a second finger. It doesn’t take him long to locate that spongy little sweet spot inside of you. The one that causes your thighs to shake as he practically abuses it—rubbing the pads of his fingers against it repeatedly until you’re nearly sobbing.

The coil in your belly winds tight, heat searing your veins. You can feel your clit throbbing against Peter’s tongue, and the walls of your pussy tightening up around him.

“Peter,” you cry, your entire body trembling. You’re so fucking close.

“Cum,” he rasps. He needs to see you orgasm—needs to feel you unraveling on his mouth and fingers.

Hearing the gravel of his voice is the final nail in your coffin—the tension in your muscles releasing as your orgasm washes over you. Just as he wanted, you cum all over him, your cunt gushing arousal around his fingers as his tongue continues lapping at your clit, dragging out the waves of your pleasure until you’re panting and pawing at his head, trying to push him away.

After a moment, he relents—sitting back to look at you.

You’re covered in a sheen of sweat, your chest heaving, and an arm draped over your eyes. Your tits are peppered with an array of hickies, and Peter feels his chest (and cock) swell with pride. He’s clearly done a number on you. And yet…

You feel the mattress dip, and then the room is spinning around you. When things finally settle, you find yourself laying on top of Peter.

He has one arm wrapped around your waist, his palm resting on your ass. The other brushes a few stray strands of hair out of your face when you lean back to look at him.

“Spiderman also loves being ridden,” he says with a grin. You place your hands on his chest, feeling it rumble with laughter as he watches you struggle to sit up.

“You think I have the energy to ride you after you just did that? And why do you keep saying Spiderman enjoys these things like they’re facts—you don’t know.”

“Just a feeling,” he responds, licking his lips. His hands find your hips, and he grinds you downwards. Your sensitive pussy rubs against his aching length, still trapped behind his sweatpants, and it’s hard to miss the way Peter harshly swallows at the feeling.

You sigh, scooting backwards.

“Fine.”

You shove his sweats and boxers down his thighs, careful to not snag them on his dick. And damn, he really must be aching—a sticky string of precum dripping from the head of his cock, and pooling on his abdomen.

He opens his mouth, but you don’t give him the chance to say anything. Your fingers wrap around his cock, smearing his arousal across his length, and whatever Peter had been planning to say crumbles into a needy garble of non-words.

You can’t help but smile at the sound.

“Surprised you didn’t cream your pants already,” you tell him, but your tone is hardly teasing. No, seeing him beneath you like this—the muscles in his torso clenching with every stroke of your hand—it’s actually quite endearing.

“I’ll cum in your hand if you keep doing that,” he pants, glancing into your eyes. You spot nothing but lust there, any previous reservations gone.

“Is that so bad?” you ask, thumbing at the head of his cock. Peter’s grip on your waist tightens, and you hear him take a shaky breath.

“Yes.”

He wants to be inside you, that much is clear. And while it’d be so easy to draw it out and make him beg…you don’t feel like being mean to him. Not tonight, after he’d just given you the best oral of your life.

“Fine,” you relinquish. You scoot forward, planting one hand on his chest, and gripping the base of his cock with the other. Peter’s breath catches when you rub the head of his cock between your folds, a heady groan following a beat later as you begin sinking down onto him.

By the time his cock is fully inside of you, your thighs are shaking. Whether from the lack of energy due to your previous orgasm, the remarkable size of Peter inside of you, or both—you’re not totally sure.

“There’s no rush,” Peter reassures you, but the needy warble of his voice betrays his words.

“My legs might give out at some point,” you respond with a breathless laugh, and Peter echos you, giving your waist a squeeze.

“That’s fine. I’ll help.”

With your palms planted firmly on his chest, you begin to ride him.

And god, you feel so fucking good.

“Fuck,” Peter bites out, watching the space between your bodies, where his cock disappears inside of you with every roll of your hips. It’s been ages since a cunt has squeezed his dick like this, and honestly, he can see himself very easily getting addicted to the feel of you.

The bounce of your tits as you ride him, the cute little sounds you make when his cock rubs against the sensitive spots inside you—he feels like he’s going crazy.

“Peter,” you whine, your pace flattering. Having his cock inside of you is incomparable to the feeling of his fingers, and very quickly, you can feel another orgasm building, but…the closer you get, the more your strength falters.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he responds, praises falling from his lips. “You’re doing so good. You feel so good.”

His words cause your walls to clench around him, and he groans—his hands sliding down to your hips as he helps rock you down onto his cock. The sloppy sound of sex fills your bedroom, and you watch Peter with half-lidded eyes, soaking up the desperation showing on his face.

His hair is slicked back with sweat, brows pinched together in concentration as he forces you to continue riding him. At least, until he starts craving more.

With his orgasm quickly approaching—despite the immense pleasure he gains seeing you bouncing on top of him—Peter’s hunger gets the best of him.

He grabs your wrists, moves your arms so they’re wrapped around his shoulders, and then secures his arms around your back. Before you can even digest the slight change in position, Peter is fucking you.

An incoherent string of noise slips past your lips, your fingernails digging into his shoulders as his cock pistons inside of you. With his arms trapping you against his chest, you’re helpless but to take it—your orgasm rushing to the surface at the desperate yet brutal pace that Peter sets.

“Peter,” you sob into his neck.

“It’s okay,” he responds without missing a beat, his voice breathless. “I’m right there. Cum for me again, sweetheart.”

As if you could stop.

Holding onto him for dear life, you cum for the second time that night—your walls clamping down on his cock so tightly that Peter’s rhythm falters. A curse rips from his throat, and his hands find the plush of your ass—stuffing your body down onto his dick as he cums along with you—pumping you full of his seed.

The needy tension of the room melts away, and you and Peter can only lay there—a pile of sweaty yet sated flesh. It takes you both a minute to catch your breaths, and you make a quiet noise of disappointment when Peter’s cock slips out of you.

You can feel his cum running out of your pussy.

“Your balls aren’t dried up yet?”

Peter’s chest rumbles beneath you.

“I’m in my 30’s, not my 60’s.”

You glance up at him when you feel Peter’s fingers clearing the hair away from your face, and he smiles at you. Your heart jumps.

He must know how handsome he is, right? Even with that crooked nose of his.

“Don’t you ever get tired of taking cracks at me?” he wonders, using his grip on your ass to slide you farther up his chest. You giggle, cupping his cheeks as you find yourself suddenly face to face with him.

“Mmmm, no?”

He rolls his eyes, yet his smile widens. You lean down to kiss him, and he reciprocates easily enough.

“Feeling good?” you ask him, carding your fingers through his hair. He nods.

“Very. I…really missed that.”

“Same,” you agree, sitting back. You need to get to the bathroom before any cum gets on your nice sheets. You crawl off of Peter, swinging your legs over the side of your mattress. He rolls onto his side, watching you with furrowed brows as he tucks his dick back into his pants.

“Same? You haven’t—?”

“Not in a while,” you admit, pulling a fresh shirt and a pair of panties from your dresser drawers. You’re about to make a joke that the only action you’ve gotten recently is from the toys stashed under your bed, but when you turn to look at the spot where they’re hidden, you find that…the box has moved. It’s not where you had left it.

“Did you…find my sex toys? Before I came home?”

Peter’s face goes carefully blank, but the red flush of his ears betrays him.

You shoot him a glare, leaving your room with a huff.

“Dude doesn’t trust me…how fucking rude…”

“Hey now—!”

Peter’s feet pound against the floor as he chases after you, and he catches you around the waist just before you make it into your bathroom. His lips press against the crown of your head.

“Again, I’m sorry for snooping. I’m dumb.”

You sigh, wriggling around to face him.

“You are,” you agree, lightly patting his chest. “Dumb, and insistent that Spider man loves tits, eating pussy, and getting ridden. Still holding those beliefs?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Peter grins. “And I have other beliefs about his preferences as well.”

“Of course you do,” you laugh. You kiss his cheek, and then step out of his hold—heading into the bathroom.

“I’m going to shower,” you tell him. “There’s some leftovers in the fridge if you want any.”

Peter nods, and the last thing you see is him heading for your fridge when you close the bathroom door.

30 minutes later, you exit your steaming bathroom in your fresh oversized t-shirt and panties, fully expecting to find Peter lounging around your apartment, eating all your food. But…to your utter disappointment, you don’t spot him anywhere.

You sigh, shoulders sagging. Had it been too much to assume he would have wanted to stay the night?

Shuffling into your kitchen, you spot an empty plate on your table. One that you know had previously been piled high with leftover chicken and potatoes.

“He eats my food and runs off…of course,” you mumble, picking up the plate to put it in the sink. However, before your annoyance can truly get the better of you, a piece of paper that had been stuck to the bottom of the plate floats to the ground.

You bend over to pick it up.

Hey!

Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to stay so long, so I left my apartment earlier without locking the door. I’m running back home to lock it, but I should be back at your place by 9!

Don’t get mad at me. I’d never run off without a word :p

-PB

PS. I have a working theory that Spiderman also has more stamina than you’d expect, even for a guy who’s been doing hero work for 20+ years, so…round two when I get back?

You can’t help but laugh.

What an idiot.

But…you like him.

#peter b parker x reader #peter b parker smut #peter b parker #i can't believe I'm posting this on tumblr #immediately going back to only posting on AO3 bc it's so much easier to format LMAO #fic #reader insert #reader x peter b parker #peter b parker x you #peter b parker x y/n

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