#because the only place you can find it is in the. when you click on a tag and go to the tag page
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if u think i’m pretty || chris sturniolo
SMUT. 18+. Minors DNI. tw: hate fucking. lots of it. bickering while fucking? idk you get the gist. finally got around to writing about chris. can you believe i scrapped like 5 fics? 🥴 yeah me either! also, sequel with matt if yall want it ;)
“Christopher fucking Sturniolo!”
Your words were laced with venom, the staircase rumbling beneath you as you stomped upstairs. Faintly you could hear Matt call out for you, your mind too filled with rage to hear him properly.
Pornographic moans flooded your eardrums as you reached Chris’s room, your eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head. Your closed fist rattled his door, the dramatic moans coming to a screeching halt.
“Open the fucking door dickwad!” You screamed. Impatiently you tapped your foot, deciding he was taking too long. You grabbed the door handle, (surprised to find it unlocked), and swung the door open.
It was almost comical watching Chris and a girl you didn’t know scramble to get themselves dressed.
“What the fuck are you doing in here? Get the fuck out! Haven’t you ever heard of privacy?” Chris spat, shoving his gray sweatpants on. For a brief moment you felt bad for the girl, her waterline filling with tears. She was just one of many you had seen this week. You grabbed a shirt you presumed to be hers, handing it to her. You took a deep breath, containing your anger as you looked at her.
“Please get dressed and for the love of God, find someone better to fuck,” You sighed. The blonde was gone in a flash, practically sprinting out of Chris’s room. You crossed your arms, shooting lasers out of your eyes as you glared at the brunette across from you. Oh, only if looks could kill.
“I’m not believing my phone magically teleported into the dishwasher of all places,” You snarled. Your phone had been missing for six hours straight, your iphones location still saying it was at the triplets house. You had dragged Matt and Nick all around their house, searching from the ceiling to the floor. When you had finally accepted defeat, you had opened the dishwasher to grab a bowl to make a snack.
And to your displeasure, your phone was sopping wet, sitting in plain sight on the rack.
“You have zero proof I did that, literally zero,” Chris argued. Your eyes briefly flickered to his exposed chest, the amount of skin throwing you off. You shook your head, showing Chris your ruined phone. “Really? Because I can’t recall the last time you did dishes but you magically did them last night,” You snapped. Chris shrugged nonchalantly, a cocky smirk creeping across his lips.
“What can I say? I figured i’d help out the household,”
That’s it.
You chucked your phone at him, the brunette dodging the attack by seconds. It was ruined away, even the rice method was unable to save your phone. It smacked against the wall, the sound making Chris jump. “Maybe your phone wouldn’t be ruined if you weren’t having very LOUD phone sex with your boyfriend!” Chris yelled. You threw your hands up in the air, completely dumbfounded. “What are you talking about? Why would I ever-” You began arguing, before it clicked.
You weren’t having phone sex with anyone, that was for sure. But you stayed over at the Sturniolo household frequently, to the point where you were there more often than you were home. As much as Chris drove you insane, you couldn’t deny how attractive he was. The concept of the attraction being forbidden, soured by years and years of bickering, did something inside of you.
You could feel heat rushing to your cheeks, even though you didn’t want it to. Chris snickered at your loss of words, shooting you a genuine smile. “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” He teased. In a swift motion you dashed across the room, your palm connecting with his cheek. Your tension with Chris had never gone beyond yelling. He had never crawled under your skin so much before, embarrassment seeping over you as you thought about the whole house hearing what he said.
A long pause silenced the room, the sound of the slap echoing through out your ears. Chris took a moment to process what you had just done, before his sharp gaze meant yours. His hand flew to your throat, gripping the sides as he threw you against the nearest wall. The air was knocked out of your lungs, your body in fight or flight mode. He easily towered over you, his sharp blue eyes filled with rage.
“You’re such a fucking whore,” Chris grumbled. He squeezed the sides of your neck harder, a whimper escaping your lips. His grip loosened, his attention fully dedicated to the sound you had made. The brunette tilted his head to the side curiously, as if he hadn’t believed what he just heard. “Did you just whimper?” He questioned. You shook your head no, Chris’s knee spreading your legs apart. Testing the waters, he brought his face closer to yours.
“You know, your little stunt prevented me from finishing earlier. Perhaps you’d like to help me out,” Chris purred, the glint of lust in your eyes telling him everything he needed to know. You rolled your eyes, your heart beginning to race as his body pressed against yours. “If you’re going to kiss me get on with it before I change my mind,” You said plainly. Chris’s grip on your throat tightened, your airway becoming restricted.
“You’ve always been a mouthy one,” He muttered, roughly bringing his lips to yours.
Chris hated how good you tasted, how good you smelled. He hated how your skin always looked so soft, your lips so plump. He despised how confident you were, always charging into everything in your life head first. What Chris actually liked, was that you challenged him. He knew that his infatuation with you wasn’t actually feelings, just raw and untamed lust. But fuck, with your lips against his, it made him want to change his mind.
The two of you clawed off each other’s clothes, discarding the clothing to the floor. Chris’s tongue swiped across your lower lip, before sliding inside. His kisses were rough and sloppy, your body addicted to the electricity he made run down your spine. You pushed him harshly against the bed, his back hitting the soft mattress underneath him.
You straddled him quickly, attempting to take control of the situation. Ever so slowly you grinded your wet cunt against his exposed shaft, a groan escaping his lips. Chris cockily put his hands behind his head, admiring you. “Go ahead, get yourself off just by grinding on me. You can do it pretty girl,” Chris instructed. You felt heat dash across your cheeks at the sound of his praise, your hips moving seemingly on their own.
Curses left your lips as you threw your head back. “Making me get myself off since you can’t do it? Figures,” You managed to say, your movements becoming more desperate. Chris leaned forward on his elbows, watching your cunt slide up and down his shift. “I’d watch your words ma, i’ll overstimulate you until you’re nothing but a cock craving whore,” Chris warned. His warning felt real, the threat in it seeking genuinely true. Even if you didn’t want to believe it.
Chris bit his bottom lip as you shamelessly grinded against him, every little movement providing pleasure to your clit. “You really think i’d fuck as many girls as I do if I couldn’t make them cum? I thought you were supposed to be smart,” Chris said coldly, mockingly tilting his head to the side. Your gaze landed back on the man beneath you, ignoring his cock in between your folds. “Yeah? I thought I was supposed to be overstimulated by now. What happened to that?” You challenged.
He was quick to change positions, your back landing against the mattress before you could think. He roughly spread your thighs apart, shoving two fingers into your cunt. A gasp of surprise was ripped from your throat, his spare hand resuming its place as your personal collar. Chris’s name spilled off of your lips as his fingers curled inside of you, his name becoming a sinful mantra. “What happened? Not so cocky now are we?” Chris taunted, watching you fall apart on his fingers.
The sight of you was enough to make his cock throb, his body craving attention. Chris remained focused, determined to corrupt you. “Open your fucking mouth slut,” Chris ordered. You so without a second thought, flattening your tongue across your bottom lip. He gripped your face harshly, leaning over and spitting into your mouth. “Swallow it,” He growled, watching you intently. You did as you were told, swallowing his saliva. You felt humiliated as it slid down your throat, the feeling euphoric.
“Thats a good girl, now why don’t you cum on my fingers for me? Hmm?” Chris asked. His words of praise made the rope inside of you snap, your orgasm washing over you without warning. Your vision went white, your thighs trembling as Chris removed his fingers from your aching cunt. You watched as he sucked them clean, maintaining eye contact with you as he did so.
Still coming down from your high, you put every last bit of energy into rolling your eyes. “Are you going to fuck me or just stare?” You asked. Chris’s cocky smile fell, replaced with a frown. “Nothings ever good enough for you, is it?” He replied, crawling on top of you. He brushed the tip of his cock up and down your folds teasingly, enjoying hearing you audibly whine for him. “Why’d you destroy my phone?” You asked, your coherent thoughts interrupted by him shoving himself inside of you.
You both moaned in unison, the unholy sounds vibrating off of the walls. “Why’d you decide to have phone sex in my house?” Chris gritted out, sliding himself further into you. He had more girth than you expected, your walls struggling to accommodate his size. “I asked you first dipshit,” You spat, fighting back a groan as he slid in further. Chris could feel your walls spasming around his cock, the sensation enough to make him cum right then and there. But he knew you’d never let him live it down.
“Yeah? Well I asked you second,” Chris replied, bottoming out inside of you. The tip of his shaft brushed against your g spot, the slightest movement of his hips making you whimper. “If you must know I wasn’t having phone sex, dumbass,” You said honestly. Chris pulled his hips back at a teasing rate, entertaining the argument. “Yeah? So what were you doing?” He questioned, doubting what you were saying. His hips bucked back into yours, hitting your g spot purposefully slow. He was drawing his thrust out, enjoying the sight of you squirming beneath him.
“I-I was thinking of you, alright? Now are you going to fuck me or what?” You rambled, embarrassed by your confession. Chris paused for a moment, soaking in your words. He leaned forward, his breath hot against your ear. “Is that so? Well, I destroyed your phone because I got jealous. You belong under me, just like this, taking my cock,” Chris purred, ignoring the embarrassment of his own confession. He pulled back slightly, allowing the two of you to make eye contact.
Out of breath and desperate, both of you panted as you stared into each other’s eyes. “Well, in that case, you better get on with it,” You said weakly. The same cocky smile that you hated plastered across his lips, his hips bucking into yours quickly. Your nails dug into his back as his hips continued to slam into yours, his cock buried inside of your cunt. Chris couldn’t hold back his own groans, your walls milking his cock dry.
With glazed eyes he met your gaze, relishing in the sound of your groans, chanting his name. “Open your mouth for me,” He ordered, his cock abusing your cervix. Chris enjoyed that you didn’t hesitate, obeying him without a second thought. He put two fingers into your mouth, shoving them as far back as he could. “Now fucking suck them slut,” He growled. With each degrading word you squeezed him harder, your body snitching on your hidden desire.
“You look so pretty like this, when you aren’t yapping that mouth of yours,” He huffed. A painful whine came from his lips, your nails purposefully digging deeper into his back. You pathetically bobbed your head up and down on his fingers, concealing your smirk as you heard him in audible pain. Chris slithered his spare hand down to your cunt, drawing fast and sloppy circles around your clit.
“Go on, cum for me. Cum on my cock like the good girl you are for me,” Chris panted. The extra sensation was enough to make you throw your head back, Chris’s fingers still lodged in your mouth. Your warning of your orgasm was muffled, your thighs shaking violently under him. The sight was going to be burned into Chris’s memory forever, the feeling of your cunt spasming around him giving him an undeniable ego boost. He fucked you through your orgasm, becoming preoccupied with chasing his own.
His fingers roughly grabbed your waist, fucking you rougher. “Shit, i’m gonna cum,” He admitted. Chris watched, mesmerized as his cock slid in and out of your cunt. “Where do you want it?” He asked, his hips beginning to stutter. You grabbed him by his throat, dragging him towards you. You put your mouth next to his ear, smirking as you told him, “Inside of me.”
You filthy fuck. For the first time your name fell from Chris’s lips as he came, his warm seed flooding your cunt. In unison you both tried to catch your breath, Chris carefully slipping out of you. The room was silent, besides desperate breathing, a knock came from Chris’s door.
“Yeah?”
“Your uh, doordash is here dude,” Matt said awkwardly. You could hear him place a bag in front of his bedroom door. “Thanks,” Chris replied, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.
“Hey Chris?”
“Yeah?”
“Next time maybe fuck a little quieter, Nicks pretty pissed.”
You exchanged glances with Chris, watching as he shoved on a shirt.
“You heard him, be quiet next time,”
“Next time? There won’t be a next time. Mr.I lasted thirty seconds.”
The sound of you two bickering made Matt roll his eyes, causing him to walk away. He wondered if you both would ever get married, or if you both would hate fuck forever. He shrugged at the idea, heading back downstairs. All Matt knew for sure, was that your moans made him cum the hardest he ever had. And that, was enough for him.
#chris sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#chris sturniolo x y/n#matt sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo#matthew sturniolo smut#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo smut
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❀ — CAFÉS & CROSSWORDS
🇵🇸 daily click | palestine masterpost | important tlou post
loser abby chokes on air, almost drops her pencil, and crossword book on the floor when she notices you walking into the small café that she’s always visiting, for the first time. a bright smile on your face that has her cheeks flushing crimson red under the dim lighting of the area she was sitting in, just because of how bright your smile was. her palms suddenly sweaty when you’re letting out a laugh. a laugh she wants to constantly hear.
the turtle neck sweater suddenly feels too tight around her neck, her blush deepening when you’re turning around, still laughing with your friends, and your eyes slowly trail around until they’re landing on her. smiling softly when you spot her scrambling for her pen, looking away just as quick when she’s realising you had just caught her staring shamelessly.
abby was quickly trying to act oblivious to your staring. if she could stare at you and blush whenever you find her looking, why can’t you stare and smirk when she catches you watching? but it was slightly harder for her because she could feel your eyes burning into the side of her face. almost like you were trying to knock her glasses off just by looking at her.
she had barely even realized you’d grabbed your drink, and made your way over to the selection of books on the shelf when abby turned around, without seeming too shy this time or hiding it better, to look for you. only pouting as a result when she couldn’t find you. had you left? why was she already wanting to fawn over you from a distance and never actually talk to you? was she scared? maybe. would she ever say anything to you unless you did? never.
it was cute. cute watching her look for you and she barely even knew your name.
simply unaware you were standing behind her, finding the whole interaction more adorable with a smile on your face when she’s burying her face back into her book, or whatever it was that she was reading or doing.
taking a few steps forward, you couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing. your interest peaking higher at the pretty blonde who suddenly gained your attention as you heard before you could see the pencil in her hand, tapping on the wooden table and a angry scoffed came from her.
your smile brightened a few seconds later at the simple realisation she liked to do puzzles, and was clearly seconds away from giving up.
“introgression” you finally spoke up after watching her struggle for an extra few minutes on writing and erasing the incorrect answer.
the hairs on the back of her neck stood up, turning around on her chair quickly and regrettably knocking her knee on the table in the process when she found you, standing there with your head cocked to the side and chuckling. with a wince, she replied with a stammered, “what?” looking anywhere but at you.
“the answer to your crossword question. what is a 13-letter word meaning entrance? it’s introgression”
“oh”
“m’sorry, you’ve just been staring at it for a while” you chuckled, smiling down at her.
“it kinda slipped my mind i guess, but thank you”
“you’re welcome” you giggled, fumbling with your bracelet. “do you do crosswords a lot?”
“uhm, sometimes? keeps my brain focused” abby nodded, nervously tucking a strand of loose hair behind her glasses, and pushing her glasses higher up on her nose. “s’tupid, i know”
“no, no. s’not stupid, it’s cute” you reassured her quickly, smirking at her sudden flushed cheeks. “i can help you finish it, if you’d like? no pressure, i just like crosswords too”
“you uh, want to—”
“yes pretty girl, i want to crossword with you”
“aren’t you busy?”
“never too busy to talk to someone as handsome as you. oh and the crosswords too, obviously, i guess”
abby couldn't stop blushing at your words while you placed your hot drink on the table, sitting down on the chair opposite her. “you’re definitely here for the puzzle” she giggled.
“and something else, but let’s finish this before we get to the details about our date, yeah?”
#loser!abby#abby anderson#abby anderson x you#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson drabble#abby anderson fluff#abby the last of us#abby anderson tlou2#abby tlou
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The Cat and Dog Game [Chapter 37]
Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comedy
Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)
Characters: Chef!Reader, RestaurantOwner!Yunho, MaitreD!Hongjoong, Waiter!Yeosang, Waiter!San, Waiter!Mingi, SousChef!Seonghwa, SousChef!Wooyoung, PrepChef!Jongho
Summary: Yunho's dream was to open and run his own restaurant. But he doesn't know anything when it comes to cooking. Until you came along and accepted the job, bringing with you a small crew. How will the black cat tame the energetic golden retriever?
Word count: 3.2K
Chapter warning(s): Reader has a little meltdown/ anxiety. Read at your own discretion!
"Mr and Mrs Jeong." You greeted Yunho's parents outside the restaurant.
"Ah, drop the formalities, sweetie! I already told you to call us abonim and omonim. You're practically family!" Mrs Jeong pointed to her husband then herself, holding your hands in hers. You nodded with head, feeling some heat in your cheeks. There was so much love in her smile as she stared at you.
"And you look so beautiful as always!" She pulled you in for a surprise hug. You recovered quickly from the surprise, lifting your arms to hug her back.
"Okay, omma. That's enough." Yunho cleared his throat and gently pulled you back to his side.
"Oh, don't be so possessive son." Mrs Jeong clicked her tongue in disapproval, seeing how Yunho was holding you.
"Our table is ready, let's go in." Gunho informed. You smiled and waved to Gunho, who waved back with a friendly smile that made him look like Yunho.
"No, she's mine." Yunho squinted his eyes at his younger brother, moving you to stand behind him.
"Yun, what are you talking about?" You chuckled.
"You called him cute the first time you saw him at the restaurant. No, even worse, you thought he was cuter than me!" Yunho argued, pointing to Gunho, who just blinked in confusion. You can't believe Yunho remembers that.
"And until now, you still haven't told me that I'm cuter and better than him." He pouted at you. Gunho scoffed at his older brother before heading into the restaurant.
"You're the cutest and bestest to me, alright?" You cooed. He nodded with a goofy smile and leaned down to give you a kiss.
"We better go in." You said and walked into the restaurant with Yunho. It was a cute French bistro.
"Have you been here before?" Yunho leaned over to ask you softly as the two of you sat down in your seats and were handed menus by the wait staff.
"Just because I'm a chef, doesn't mean I know every restaurant, Yun." You laughed as you scanned through the menu.
"They have boeuf bourguignon! I know what that is." Yunho pointed at the menu. That dish had a special place in yours and Yunho's hearts, it was the first time you invited him over to your house and cooked for him. And Yunho will always find endearing how you fell asleep on the couch.
"Are you getting that?" You asked.
"Nope. I'll forever only have the one you cook." Yunho shook his head. You pursed your lips at him.
"Yun, don't say that. And who knows, they may make it better." You shrugged but Yunho was stubborn, shaking his head and looking at the other menu items.
"Have you decided what you're having?" Yunho leaned over.
"I'm thinking between the bouillabaisse, which is a seafood stew, and coq au vin, the chicken mushroom red wine dish." You told him.
"That does sound good... Since I'm not having the beef dish, I'll order the coq au vin. You can order the seafood stew and we'll share it?" He suggested with much excitement.
"You don't have to, Yun..." You smiled softly.
"I'm not sacrificing anything by ordering that. I'm sure they're both good." He smiled. There was no arguing with him so you nodded in agreement. You didn't know that Yunho's parents were looking at the two of you endearingly.
After giving your orders to the waiter, Mr Jeong ordered a bottle of wine and offered you a glass. Yunho wasn't drinking since he drove but you felt bad for turning down a glass.
"Cheers." Mrs Jeong toasted and everyone clinked their glasses before taking sips of their wine, water for Yunho.
"Actually, Mr and Mrs Jeong. I wanted to apologise to you." You spoke, putting your glass down.
"Apologise to us? What for?" Mr Jeong asked, blinking. Mrs Jeong tilted her head in puzzlement and even Yunho gave you a curious look, having heard this the first time.
"The other time we met, I apologise for leaving the party aburptly without a proper goodbye." You explained.
"Oh! That. Don't be sorry, silly. It didn't even occur to us." Mrs Jeong said.
"Still, it was rude of me and-"
"We understand, dear. Really." She cut you off with a soft smile, one that only a mother can give. You nodded with a grateful smile of your own. A lot of people knew what your father and your relationship with him was like, it wasn't a surprise that you didn't get along, especially with your stepfather.
"It wasn't your fault." Yunho said to you with a small frown, holding your hand over his thigh. You sent him a soft smile, knowing he really hates your father. Who doesn't?
"So, (y/n), tell me what it's like dating my brother." Thankfully, Gunho changed the subject.
"Yah, Jeong Gunho..." Yunho gave his brother a threatening glance.
"It's been great, actually. Yunho treats me very well, he takes care of me and is very patient with me." You said with a giggle, feeling your cheeks heat up. You were not used to expressing yourself like this.
"That's good. He better be taking care of you." Mr Jeong raised an eyebrow at Yunho.
"He is, I'm very thankful." You smiled.
"See? You two raised me well, I know how to take care of my partner." Yunho scoffed but had a proud smile on his face, hearing you speak so highly of him.
"Sometimes he's an overgrown, excited puppy, isn't he?" Mrs Jeong asked you. You stifled a laugh, nodding in agreement.
"I thought I was the only one that saw his puppy-likeness. Right from the start." You said between your laughs. Yunho stared at you with a done look, knowing you were always trying to push his golden retriever agenda.
"You're not the only one. Don't worry, we know what you're talking about." She smiled.
"Him and Gunho have been puppy siblings from the start. Even the way they used to fight as kids or now too, they're like litter mates chewing on each other." Mr Jeong chuckled.
"Appa~" The two brothers whined in embarrassment.
When the food was all served, you all dug in, starting with the appetisers that were ordered then the main course.
"How is it?" You asked Yunho as he cut into the chicken. He melted against your shoulder, letting out little sounds of happiness at the taste of the dish.
"That's good." You laughed, breaking a small piece of bread to dip into the stew and offered it to him.
"Thank you." He leaned forward and ate the bread that you were holding out. He pointed at your dish and nodded in approval.
"This is all so good, I love it. I can't decide which is my favourite." Yunho said, making you and his parents laugh. Even though you fed Yunho, Mrs Jeong noticed that Yunho cut a small piece of chicken and let you use your own fork to pick it up for a taste, respecting how you found such PDA awkward.
"It's good, isn't it?" Yunho nudged you lightly as you covered your mouth to chew.
"It is, it's done very well. One of the better coq au vins I've had here." You said. Yunho smiled, happy to know you like the dish even if he wasn't the one that cooked it.
"You're smiling like you're the one that cooked it." Gunho joked.
"Yeah, well I ordered it so it counts." Yunho stuck his tongue out at his younger brother.
"After (y/n) recommended it." Mr Jeong piled on.
"You're all bullying me, I don't like this." Yunho sulked. You chuckled and patted his thigh, with a comforting smile. They moved on to talk about other things, making sure you were included always.
"Excuse me, I need to use the loo." You forced a smile and excused yourself with a bow of your head. You entered the individual toilet and locked the door behind you, leaning against the door and letting out a shaky breath.
It suddenly became overwhelming for you, you didn't know why. Seeing Yunho's happy family. When was the last time you sat down to eat with your family without fighting?
But this isn't about you and your pitiful life. This was you getting to know your boyfriend's loving family, being accepted by them and-
*KNOCK KNOCK*
"O-Occupied!" You stuttered out, standing straight.
"It's me." You heard Yunho's voice on the other side and unlocked the door. Before you could say anything, Yunho made his way in, making you step back.
"Yun, you shouldn't be in here. People may think we're up to no good." You tried to pass it off as a laugh or joke.
"Are you okay?" He stared down at you, a frown of worry on his face. You looked up at him and nodded your head. He tucked your hair behind your ear, he wasn't convinced by your answer.
"Seriously, I'm okay. Don't worry, we shouldn't worry your parents by being away for too long." You said, putting an assuring hand on his arm. You didn't want Yunho to feel the need to comfort you again, it's what he is always doing. And that just makes all the guilt and doubt creep up your throat.
"Stop." He grasped your wrist and tugged you to him, hugging you to his chest tightly. You closed your eyes, enjoying the warmth and security of his hug.
"I love your family. They're so nice, you're lucky to have them." You said, words muffled slightly by his hug as you clutched onto him.
"And they love you too. They're your family as much as they are mine, okay?" He whispered, rubbing your back.
"I swear, I'm not jealous or anything about your family, Yunho. I don't know what came over me, I'm sorry. I'm just petty and clinging onto what could have been..." You shook your head.
"Which you have every right to so don't apologise." He held your chin and tilted your head up.
"I love you." He spoke.
"I love you too." You replied with a soft smile, letting him lean down to give you a kiss. Yunho was too kind for his own good but you loved him and didn't want to let him go. When the both of you pulled away, you leaned against his chest.
"Sorry, I didn't think the first time I'll tell you I love you would be in the bathroom of a restaurant." Yunho chuckled.
"Don't worry about it, this isn't the first time." You replied with a giggle. Yunho pulled back to give a questioning look, not knowing what you were referring to.
"Yesterday in your drunken stupor, you told me you loved me. Then told me you loved the cake I made." You explained to him.
"I-I did?" He stuttered, his cheeks turning red as he facepalmed. You nodded your head.
"Oh god. Why didn't you mention this to me?" His head fell onto your shoulder. All you did was continue to laugh, wrapping your arms around his head.
"You were too cute. But we should really go." You said to him, stroking his cheek. He nodded and straightened up.
"Wait, before we go back..." He quickly stole another kiss before opening the door to let you through, making your eyes widen in shock. Yunho walked behind you as you headed back to the table. The first thing you did was bow and apologise to Yunho's family for disappearing for so long.
"No worries. Shall we get dessert?" Mrs Jeong asked, not making you feel embarrassed or anything, playing it off as a minor issue. You hummed and looked at the menu.
"So, what's good?" Yunho, once again, leaned over to ask you.
"I'm not telling you." You snickered and hid your face behind your menu, playfully leaning away from him.
"But (y/n)~ I wanna share with you." Yunho whined, continuing to lean into you until he was practically draped over you while you were laying on the couch of the booth.
"Yunho! Let the poor girl go before you squish her." Mrs Jeong scolded her son.
"What can I get you all for dessert?" The waiter came. Yunho cast a look over to you, waiting for you to order.
"We'll share a crêpes suzette and and a slice of tarte tartin." You ordered with a small chuckle, you gave in to Yunho too easily. The waiter nodded and took the other orders before leaving. Mr Jeong chuckled, shaking his head.
"Do you always give in to him so easily?" He raised an eyebrow. His smile indicated that he was joking.
"Can't help it... I guess we just give into each other a lot. Sometimes without knowing too." You smiled with a casual shrug. Yunho nodded in agreement.
When the desserts were served, all of you shared your desserts. Mr Jeong had a small glass of digestif orujo (Spanish after dinner drink of alcohol, most likely Spanish brandy, served in a shot)
"See? Trusting you chef taste is good." Yunho said happily, eating a piece of the crepe.
"Grand marnier, an orange liquor is poured over and lit up. This is one of Jongho's favourite desserts actually." You told him.
"Would you like a glass?" Mr Jeong offered.
"Oh, no. I'm good, abonim. Thank you for offering." You shook your head, not wanting to take anymore strong alcohol. You took a bite of tarte tartin that was served warm with a scoop of vanilla ice cream then pushed your plate closer to Yunho for him to take a scoop off your plate to try.
"Can you make this? I like it." Yunho pointed to your tarte tartin.
"Sure, Yunho. I'll make it next time you come over and you can use different fruits too, whatever is in season." You laughed. Yunho clapped his hands excitedly.
After all the desserts and conversations were done, Mr Jeong raised his hand to ask the waiter for the bill.
"Actually, Mr Jeong, if it's okay with you, I would like to pay for dinner." You offered. Yunho's parents looked at you with wide eyes.
"What? Nonsense, (y/n). We appreciate it but we can't let you pay! Ah... how about, next time, you cook dinner for us instead?" Mrs Jeong waved you off with a giggle.
"That's a promise." You smiled. Once the bill was paid, you all headed out.
"Thank you so much for tonight, it has been great. I had a great time and the food was amazing." You said to all of them.
"Aww, you're most welcome, (y/n). We have to do this again soon, okay? Don't stay away for too long." Mrs Jeong pulled you into a tight hug. You melted in her hold, closing your eyes as you savoured the feeling of a mother's hug.
"Any time you need anything, let us know." Mr Jeong gave you a fatherly smile and tucked you to his side for a brief hug, just like how Yunho always did.
"I will, thank you. Have a good night, omonim and abonim." You smiled. You waved to Gunho, who waved back with a bright grin.
"Bye, (y/n)~" Gunho sang as he waved. Yunho glared at his brother but still gave him a goodbye hug.
As you all parted ways for the night, you and Yunho decided to go for a short walk at a nearby park before heading home. The weather was nice to spend some quiet time with Yunho.
"So, what did you think of tonight? I know my family can be... enthusiastic..." Yunho asked.
"They're great, I love them and I'm glad I got to know them better, especially your mother." You said, taking a seaton the bench.
"Yeah, she's a little... excited... to have a daughter to hang out with and do girly things together. You don't have to give in." Yunho rubbed the back of his neck. You shook your head, you were happy to spend time with Yunho's mother, it would be like all the time you could have had with your own mother.
"Actually, I-"
*meow*
"What's wrong?" Yunho tilted his head when you stopped talking mid way. You turned your head, looking around for the source of the sound. It was faint but you could hear it.
"You didn't hear that? Like a 'meow' or something..." You frowned, having heard it again.
"No, I don't hear anything. Or is there only a wavelength cats can hear each other on?" Now it was Yunho's turn to tease you.
"Ha. Ha. Very funny, turning the tables on me." You scoffed. You stood up, walking to where you heard the sound. Yunho curiously followed behind you.
"(y/n), be careful." Yunho warned. You stooped in front of some bushes, pushing them aside. Behind them, there was a small cardboard box. But before you could open it, Yunho grasped your arm to stop you.
"It's fine, Yun." You laughed and opened the box. It was hard to see so you used the torch on your phone to see.
There, in the corner of the box, a black kitten was curled up. It looked up and stared back at you with big green eyes. Yunho, with longer limbs, reached in to help you bring the box out.
"Look at you, poor thing." You gently reached out to stroke the kitten's head.
"Should we take him or her... out of the box?" Yunho abruptly reached in to try and grab the kitten.
"Oww! It scratched me." Yunho recoiled with a hiss of pain, looking at the little lines that the kitten left on his hand. Thankfully, it wasn't deep enough to bleed.
"You can't just reach in and grab it, Yun. Be gentle, you probably spooked the poor thing." You said.
In the end, Yunho helped carry the entire box with the kitten in it to his car. But he didn't want you to have it on your lap since it was dirty from being on the floor for god knows how long. So you coaxed the the kitten out and wrapped it in your jacket. You sat in the passenger seat with it in your lap.
"So what do we do with the little guy?... Or girl..." Yunho asked, leaning on his steering wheel.
"Well, we can't just leave it out there. It's just a baby, it won't survive." You sighed. The kitten snuggled into the warmth of your jacket, closing its eyes.
"Let's get some cat food and bring it home for a bit to get it warm." Yunho suggested.
"Okay, you hold onto it. It seems to like you more." Yunho said. But before he could start the engine to drive, you let the kitten go over.
"See? It likes you too. Just don't be too abrupt when handling him." You giggled, seeing the kitten curiously sniff Yunho as it balanced on the middle console of the car.
"Just hold onto it! I can't drive with a kitten in my lap." Yunho burst out laughing, gently patting the head of the kitten.
"Come here, the big doggy man is too scary, huh?" You cooed to the kitten while Yunho rolled his eyes and began to drive to the nearest pet store that was still open. The kitten comfortably curled up in your jacket again.
"Don't worry, you won't be alone again." You smiled softly.
~
Series masterlist
#kpop#kpop scenarios#kpop series#ateez#ateez scenarios#ateez series#ateez imagines#ateez x reader#ateez yunho#yunho ateez#yunho#yunho scenarios#yunho series#yunho x reader#yunho x you#yunho x y/n#jeong yunho#jeong yunho scenarios#jeong yunho series#jeong yunho x reader
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knowin' that it probably isn't true -> cool about it [4]
in which: a son of jupiter can't remember the life he lost to time and circumstance. or the daughter of mercury he lost, too.
pairing: jason grace x daughter of mercury!roman!reader
warnings: cursing, angst, slight panic attack?
word count: 5.3k
a/n: how can this possibly be the final part. like what? also, it's been forever since I've read the ending go heroes of Olympus so I cannot for the life of me remember how canon accurate this is.
one two three [four]
There was one rule Jason was always willing to break.
For you, he had murmured into the side of your head, just above your ear, as he pulled you close the first night it had happened. You hadn't been able to help the roll of your watery, red-rimmed eyes. Or the skip of your heart.
Big declaration, Jase, you had fired back, pretending your voice wasn't shaking, that you hadn't made a much bigger declaration by seeking him out after curfew.
Leave it to the daughter of thieves to break and enter into the praetor's private room.
The first night it happened, you had gotten a rather stiff and formal letter from your mother, explaining why it was simply the better choice for you to stay at camp over the holidays. In front of everyone, you had kept it together.
Alone in your bunk, you broke down.
It was an easy decision, then, to go find Jason. A natural instinct, practically, was leading you through the bunkhouse on silent, swift feet despite the tears staining your face. When you had slipped into Jason's room, he had bolted awake.
You were prepared for a lecture. Instead, he just opened his arms.
So there was one rule that Jason Grace was willing to break.
Curfew.
You were careful not abuse your privilege, only searching him out when needed.
And right now, he was needed.
Your feet carried you soundlessly through the corridors, your heart hammering in your chest and bottom lip caught between your teeth, almost bloody with worry. The dream had been fast, uncontrollable, terrifying.
Not once had you ever bothered knocking on his door, and you didn't start now, twisting the knob and careful to only open it as much as you needed to slip through, because if you went any wider the hinges would squeak and Reyna could only overlook so much.
The sight of him, asleep in bed, hair tousled and face almost peaceful, was nearly enough to settle you. But then flashes of your dream came back, and you knew you needed more.
Easing the door shut, you made sure the latch clicked in place as silently as you could manage. The absolute last thing you needed was some nosy Lar floating by seeing you breaking the rules alongside Jason.
The teasing would never end.
Despite praetor's getting the privilege of having their own rooms, they remained in standard issue sized bunks. Which meant that you couldn't help but press against him as you climbed under the covers, body already half-hanging over the far edge. The movement of the mattress jostled him awake, like always, and he slowly blinked his tired eyes open.
You remained silent as he got his bearings, bottom lip caught between your teeth to keep from spilling out the gory details of your desperation to see him before he even realized what was happening.
He twisted, copying your position of laying on his side, one arm curled underneath his head to prop it up just slightly.
"Hey, you," Jason mumbled, voice still thick with sleep. He stretched slightly, using the movement to reach out and brush his thumb across your cheek, as if he was checking for tears he couldn't see in the dim room. "Couldn't sleep?"
"Sleeping was the problem," You shook your head, kicking your leg forwards under the blanket to knock against his, just the barest excuse to touch him and confirm he was real and alive and laying before you.
"Nightmare?" Like he ever needed to ask. So few things got you worked up enough to risk getting caught sneaking into his room.
"Mhm," You hummed, anyway, eyes tracing the barest outline of his face visible to you in the dark of the room. The moon provide some light through the window, but you had Jason's features memorized from the time you were fourteen.
"What was it about, this time?" He asked, and you wished you could hate him for the way he sounded genuinely concerned and like he wanted to know. The pounding in your heart as he knocked his leg forwards against yours, a mimic of your own actions seconds earlier, would be easier to deal with.
"You." Without cracking, you managed to force the word out at a volume barely audible in the otherwise silent room. Your stare was focused on his chin, because you couldn't meet his eyes as you confessed, and his nose was too close to his eyes, and looking at his lips made you want to do something incredibly stupid.
His chin was neutral territory, even if you wanted to kiss there, too.
"Me?" He sounded like he didn't understand, which you gave him grace for. Yes, your nightmare was about him, but not because of anything he did, so much as what happened to him. Not the first of its kind, but after the fight with Krios, it stung a little deeper.
"You went on a quest, without me, again." Your murmured, gaze still fixed on his chin. He stayed silent, knowing you better than you knew yourself, knowing that you needed him to wait for you to find the right words. "And... and you didn't come back to me, Jase, you had promised, but you didn't—"
Your shudder took you by surprise, eyes squeezed shut tight to try and fight the stinging quickly growing there, your lungs burning with the effort to contain your sobs. You tried all your usual tricks to keep from crying. Counting silently, deep breaths through your nose, hands squeezing into fists so tight your nails cut crescent shaped marks into the heel of your palms leaking the slightest bit of blood.
It didn't work. The image of a broken, ruined Jason returned to you at the edge of camp burned into your memory. You knew it had been a dream, that he hadn't actually died, but the thought—
"This is stupid." You huffed, voice watery and tight and so incredibly pathetic you half expected Jason to strip you of your title of centurion. It was all so very un-Roman of you. "I'm too old to be crying over bad dreams."
"Hey," Jason murmured, voice gentle, and it worked in combination with his warm hands wrapping over yours to calm the tempest that was raging in your mind enough for you to open your eyes. His handsome face was twisted in concern, in understanding, and the tears welled up in your eyes all the bit faster. "I'd be a wreck, too, if I dreamt that I lost you."
Why can't he just say the words, you lamented bitterly in your mind. Why can't I say them, either?
"I hate crying." You managed to force out after a few beats of silence, broken only by your pitiful sniffles trying to keep the tears from finally falling down your cheeks and staining the pillow you shared with Jason.
"I know," His voice was soothing, gentle, and you let him manipulate your hand until he had your open palm splayed, pressed against his chest, his own covering the back of yours to keep you from pulling away. Not that you ever did anything but crawl impossibly closer to him each day.
You were Jason's and Jason was yours, but never in so many words.
"Feel that?" His quiet question startled you from your mind, the terrible sleep-created images replaying on a loop. Reyna apologizing for not protecting him, the weight of his golden coin pressing heavily into the center of your palm.
You're the only one he would have wanted to have that, Reyna had said in your dream when she handed off the magic weapon. And if something ever really did happen to him, you couldn't help but morbidly think that he really would want you to have it—
"Don't leave me here, now." Jason, real Jason, the one living and breathing and holding your hand against his chest—right over his heart, you realized with the sudden jolt. The beat was steady under the tips of your fingers, and you closed your eyes to focus on the rhythm, to try and match your shallow breaths to his deep and even ones. "There. Welcome back, solider."
"We can't be soldiers right now." You shook your head, eyes still shut but voice almost back to normal. And though you knew Jason didn't understand it, he didn't question.
You couldn't be solders. You couldn't be only little heroes destined to fight and bleed and die at the whim of others, of gods with self-imposed rules keeping them from helping their own children. Being soldiers had been what had ruined your dream, that had sent you racing through the dark to find him. Soldiers weren't lovers. Soldiers didn't hold each other.
Jason was trained to be a soldier. But maybe, with you, he could learn to be other things.
"Thank you," You murmured, voice almost silent as you peaked open your eyes. You had known Jason had moved closer to you, had heard his cheek brushing against the pillow you shared and felt the heat from his skin warm yours, but you hadn't anticipated the blow to your chest you received when you opened your eyes and found him close enough to taste, if you had been born into a braver body.
"After my little stunt on the War Games field with Damien last week? I figured I owed you." He teased, and the absurdity of Jason Grace finding it in himself to make such a casual joke after you had climbed into his bed mid-panic attack had a lopsided grin work its way onto your face.
"Shut up." You wanted to lean forward and press your lips against his skin, but you held back. You always held back, but only when it came to Jason. Most of your bunkmates had vocalized that they wished you had the capacity to control yourself more. "How many times have you kept me out of the brig?"
"Fair point," He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest and reminding you that your palm was still pressed against the cotton of his sleep shirt.
As much as it pained you, you slipped your hand out of his, but something took control of you and changed direction. Originally, you had planned on tucking your fist underneath your own chin, cocooning yourself in your own arms and trying to justify staying a little bit longer.
What ended up happening was your hand falling to rest on Jason's cheek, thumb brushing over the pearly white line of his scar. The tips of your fingers tingled, might have even shook, as they touched his lips.
All the humor was sucked from the room with your gentle declaration of such intimacy. Sure, you and Jason had long since passed through each other's barriers of personal space. Neither one of you exactly had nurturing childhoods and found relentless comfort in the other.
Touch starved, someone had once explained it as. Two people making up for lost time and a need to feel loved and held. Jason was the only one you let into your space, and as far as you knew you were the only one Jason wrapped himself around. The thought of him locking pinkies with someone besides you made you queasy and tossed you back into the moment, your palm on his cheek and his eyes on yours.
It was almost too much. You hoped he couldn't hear your heart hammering in your chest, feeling as if it was about to burst with how much you loved him.
You loved everything about him. From his smiles to his dedication and his innocent charm. To the way he fought like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders, because it did, and how he let you break the rules in his bed because he knew you better than you could ever hope to know yourself, sometimes.
"I bet it was a wolf bite." You murmured into the quiet, words tumbling past your lips before you could even think of what you were saying.
"Hm?" He must not have expected your words, because he hummed questioningly, sounding half-distracted but your touch lingering on his skin. The idea of distracting Jason Grace made you smile. It felt like an achievement.
"Your scar," You clarified, still tracing it with the pad of your thumb. his skin was warm and soft and it helped ease your remaining nerves to hold him so gently after the gruesome horror show of your nightmare. "I bet it was a wolf bite."
Jason grinned, then. Wide and bright and if you hadn't seen him call down lightning personally, you would have thought Phoebus Apollo was his father from how much blinding sunshine radiated from him, even in the middle of the night, half-asleep.
"If Lupa bit me, I don't think the scar would be so small." He teased, knocking his forehead into yours gently. You snorted, closing your eyes as you leaned closer to him, trying to remain casual as his nose brushed against yours.
"Still, it's a good story." You hummed, shrugged slightly. Jason huffed a laugh, and you felt his breath on your skin, on your lips.
"Yeah, it's a good story." He agreed quietly, his own hand reaching up to hold your face, mimicking your position with a gentleness that made you question if you should ruin the only gentle thing to ever embrace you by slotting your mouth over his, over every inch of his face.
Instead, you moved your hand from his cheek to the back of his head, holding him as close as you could without being greedy.
You knew you'd have to leave soon, or else risk getting caught, and you couldn't do that to Jason.
But you let yourself have a few minutes. You never knew how many you'd ever have with him.
It was peaceful, if only for a moment.
It had only been war, for hours.
Your voice was shredded raw from shouting orders, rallying troops, keeping Romans from turning on Greeks like Octavian had wanted.
It was the final battle, you knew. The air tasted of it, of that heavy weight that came with saving the world. You had felt it when you had gone into battle against Krios to keep the Titans from rising, and you were sick with it, now.
This time, you didn't have Jason by your side, covering your weaknesses while you watched his. You didn't even have Reyna, anymore.
I need you to stay here, Reyna had ordered you when you had argued your case for joining her on her quest to the Ancient Lands after Jason and the others. Your desperation to accompany her went beyond a bone-deep ache to see Jason again; you were going absolutely crazy sitting around at the Roman encampments surrounding the Greek demigod camp, waiting for a battle you were certain shouldn't be taking place.
If I stay here, I'm going to kill Octavian. Or he'll get someone to kill me, you countered, and two weeks earlier you could have played it off as a joke. But Octavian had become drunk on power, had appointed himself to a rank higher than praetor, and was absolutely gunning for a reason to get rid of you, one way or another.
Don't let him, Reyna had said, as if it was ever that simple. I need someone here that I can trust. Jason needs you here, too.
Your frown had deepened, no matter how impossible it had seemed.
That was a low blow, you mumbled, pissed off and exhausted, only getting more pissed off and exhausted by your own shitty attitude.
Reyna had grimaced, but did you the favor of not pointing out that it had worked. You had stayed behind, had remained with your soldiers and dodged Octavian as much as you could, knowing how very weak the leash you held your anger on was. He was looking for any excuse to put you on trial. You couldn't give him one.
But that didn't mean you didn't do everything in your power to undermine Octavian's control.
The fighting that soon followed was inevitable.
You had known from the start that it was either going to be against the Greeks or the monsters, depending on how successful Jason and his new group of friends were. If they got back in time to unify the camps like Annabeth had promised Reyna they would, then the monsters would be feasible to take on.
But Octavian started the war early. Started against the Greeks, then was forced to split forces when the monsters began their assault, too.
The groundwork you had laid against Octavian was almost unnecessary as he doomed the Romans to fight an exhausting and expensive battle they could never win. It had been almost too easy for you to take control, to knock Octavian out with a single punch and order Roman troops to fight alongside the Greeks, to use them as another weapon against the monsters.
Defend their camp as if it is our own!, you had shouted through the roar of battle, perched on the highest point you could find—an upturned chariot. The fighting had paused at your words, Greeks and Romans alike trying to see which way the attacking army would sway.
One girl on the Greek side of the fight gave orders to her soldiers not to attack your Romans, just as the daughter of Ares had promised on the few nights you had snuck into her camp to discuss that very moment.
Clarisse La Rue had been all too willing to talk war with you, double agent against Octavian, you were.
Reyna and Nico arriving with the Athena Parthenos had only sealed the deal, but even with Greek and Roman forces combined the never-ending monster army was a force to be reckoned with. Gaea herself was even pulling you in, feet sucked into the earth to tire you out faster with each step.
By the time the flying trireme arrived, your exhaustion was bone deep and felt like the only substantial thing in your life.
It was a blur, from then on. Fighting still raged. Screams still tore through the air. Battle continued and stole and ached.
Then came the explosion.
One minute you were fighting for your life, prepared to enter into the next one, and then suddenly the world had stilled around you. Whatever monsters weren't falling under the swords and arrows of demigod heroes had turned and ran, and it was almost jarring how silent the battlefield got.
Or maybe you were just too tired to process any sound. You thought you could see Reyna's mouth moving, a few dozen feet in front of you, but all you heard was a low buzzing, the thrumming of your heart, as you searched the carnage.
You weren't sure if the Romans stopped to gawk at you because you were stumbling through the mess or because you were, against all odds, still standing. You had been on the front lines from the start, had led wave after wave of assault.
By all accounts, you should have been lost to the fight. But you never gave up all that easily.
You knew there still were a million and six things that remained to do before darkness fell. First and most important to you was organizing your legion, taking count of who had survived the battle. Mourning walked hand in hand with victory, and you were well acquainted with the pair.
Except, you only made it ten steps before you saw him.
Jason Grace had completely forgotten you. Despite his promises, his sweet words and even sweeter touches, he had forgotten you and all that you meant to him. He didn't know how he used to pinch your arm to keep you awake in your more boring classes. He didn't know that he used to swap plates with you at least once a week because you regretted what the Mess Hall sprites had brought you.
He didn't know how he brushed his hands through your hair when you got worked up, and he didn't remember what the touch of your skin on his felt like.
But he was heading straight towards you, as if the destruction around him could wait and all that mattered was you.
It was enough to root you to your spot. With shaking, brutalized fingers you took off your helmet. You meant to hold it under your arm against your hip, but suddenly Jason was within five feet of you with the most determined stare, and you barely registered it dropping to the ground.
You had counted the days since you had last seen him in Charleston. It had been too long and not long enough, because no matter how much you loved Jason with every inch of your being, it also hurt too great to have him in front of you and know he didn't remember how gently he had once used his thumbs to smooth the worry lines from between your knitted brows.
"Soldier—" You started, desperate to take control of the conversation, but he was speaking over you before you even finished the second syllable.
"It's not a wolf bite." His words were firm, almost pleading. But they were also so unexpected, so out of place, you jolted back half a step. He quickly made up for the space you tried putting between you both, halting only a few scant inches from the exhausted lines of your body.
"What?" You managed to gape, chin tilted to look up at him, face twisted in grief and confusion and hope so dangerous you contemplated the blow to your reputation if you turned and ran.
"The scar. Not a wolf bite." He clarified, and it took nearly everything in you to tear your stare from his to drag down his face and find the beloved mark on the corner of his lips, right where it had been since the moment you had met him. You had felt that bit of raised skin underneath the pad of your thumb more times than what could have been considered as just friendly, had made up stories for its existence just to distract yourself. "When I was two, I tried to eat a stapler."
"Jason," The sound that left your lips could almost have been mistaken for a laugh, if someone only plugged their ears and closed their eyes. It was a haunted, aching, desperate sound, mixed with a short exhale that had Jason leaning even closer to you, somehow.
"I just thought you'd want to know." He murmured, and you weren't sure if the warmth burning your skin was from the exertion of battle, the rays of sun beating against your cheek, or the intensity of Jason's stare on you.
Familiar. He looked... familiar. Maybe a little Greek, but he was still Roman. Still an unwavering force, one that had defeated a Titan and still had enough power to tear down his seat of power in search for your battered body, almost lost to the rubble.
He looked like he knew you.
"You… you remember?" Fingers curled into fists at your side, almost buzzing with emotions you could barely even begin to decipher. Everything was a knot inside of you; thoughts, feelings, strength. You'd given everything on the battlefield, but you had been running on fumes from the moment Jason had been stolen from you. It was nothing short of a miracle that you were still standing.
"I do, now." His nod sent a shuddering gasp through you, but still you couldn't get yourself to lift a hand out and reach him. You had already had this dream—this nightmare—so many times. What happened next would likely be his dismissing you. Or worse—you would wake up.
But Jason moved first, one hand you knew like your own raising to wipe a spot of grime off you cheek before cradling your head gently. It was all the permission you needed before your own hands notched under the sides of his armor, a familiar movement always used to tug him closer to you. Metal clanged together as his chest plate hit against yours, and though you suddenly loathed the equipment that had saved your life more times than you felt you deserved, you couldn't let go of Jason long enough to free yourself from it. That part would have to wait.
"Got hit on the head a few times, talked to a couple of gods. It all helped the pieces fall back together." He explained, and you pressed your knuckles into his sides as a silent reprimand for making fun of himself getting hurt. Tears welled in your eyes, blurring your vision of Jason, and you bit the inside of your cheek so hard you tasted blood. A reprimand for yourself, too. "I'm so sorry."
"It wasn't your fault, Jase." You would have shaken your head, but you didn't want to move out of his hold for a second, and instead pressed your cheek tighter against his palm still holding the side of your jaw.
He looked ready to argue, but you flashed him a glare so fierce he thought better of it. You had been living in anger and fear for months. Having Jason back already helped, but it would take more than a few minutes for you to right yourself.
And you still stood on the battlefield.
"I remember that last argument we had." He knocked you back to reality in the gentle way only he ever knew how to do with you. Out of shame, you ducked your gaze to the ground, but he didn't let you hide. With the hand that wasn't on your jaw, thumb brushing reassuring strokes over your cheek, he held your nearly quivering chin between his index and his thumb. The way he tilted your head up to meet his stare was tender, but that had never been a question when it came to him. "Where I said there was nothing for us to do but be soldiers."
"Yeah," You were pretty sure you were speaking, but you couldn't focus on anything over the sound of your heartbeat roaring in your ears or the beautiful burn of his skin against yours.
"I was wrong." He admitted, but you knew what those words meant just the same as he knew that you would understand. "I remembered fragments of you. The sound of your laugh. How your hair shone in the summer sun."
"Sounds like you might be in love, or something." You tried for teasing but sounded like you had just been hit by a bus. Jason had only been back for a few scarce minutes and already was bulldozing you with his sweet words. If he hadn't just disappeared on you for upwards of seven months and came back to save the world, you would have threatened to kick his ass for disorientating you so much so quickly.
"Oh, I am." He grinned a little nervously, a little lopsided, and you couldn't wait any longer.
You moved first, hands darting from the sides of his armor to the sides of his face, palms flat against his skin as you tugged his head down you meet you while you pushed yourself up on your tip-toes to meet him halfway.
Kissing Jason was as inevitable as it was all-consuming. You had played dumb with Dakota whenever he brought it up, but deep down you had always belonged to Jason Grace, and he to you, from the moment he broke the rules to sit with you in that small, restricted stretch of grass when you were ten years old.
Your fingers knotted into the hair on the back of his head, grown out just enough during his time with the Greeks. You thought it suited him, and it was soft under your touch, and you mentally made a note to plead with him later to leave it alone. From the way he was kissing you like he would starve if he didn't, you had a feeling he'd agree easily.
He was warm and sweet and tasted like mint. He was everything you had imagined, everything you had never once dared to hope for. Strong hands and gentle touches, unyielding intelligence and unwavering kindness.
He was everything. Your everything.
Despite the weight of Jason's mouth on yours, you still were dimly aware of where you stood. The smell of smoke still lingered in the air, and no matter how close you pressed against Jason, you couldn't hide from the fact that you were a centurion and your legion needed you.
You had been left by almost everyone in your life, but never had letting someone go been as painful as it was to step back from Jason long enough to catch your breath and clear the fog from your mind that was a direct reaction to his touch.
"I've got to—" You shuddered, voice catching, but Jason nodded, knowing what you meant. Knowing you, knowing your mind, always. You almost shivered again at the reminder that he remembered. He knew what you were going to say, but you forced yourself to finish your thought so you could convince yourself it was real. "I've got to find my legion. Count survivors. Take stock of injuries. We've been—we've been fighting for hours."
You didn't want to leave him. You never had wanted to before, but after he had been stolen from you for so long? Now that he had confessed his love and kissed you like his life depended on it?
Now you were worried that the next time he left your side, he'd disappear again, no matter how unwillingly he went.
"Okay," Jason smoothed his thumbs across your cheeks, face ducked low towards yours as your hands fell to wrap loosely around his wrists, desperate to hold him in anyway you could. "Okay. We can do that."
"We?" You questioned, then immediately felt stupid for doing so. Of course, he meant we. It had always been the two of you against the world, and he had just gotten his memories of you back. There was no way he would let you out of his sight so soon.
"You told me the day we met that there was no getting rid of you." Jason reminded you, as if you could ever forget meeting him, as if the gods themselves had been able to keep him from remembering you. "I'm holding you to that promise."
Words failed you, but the way you surged forward to press your mouth to his in a quick, urgent kiss that you had dreamed about sharing with him for years, didn't.
"Just for the record, I love you too." You offered an exhausted imitation of a smile as you pulled away, finally dropping your touch from him. Because maybe you had Jason back, but you still weren't sure how many of your soldiers had been lost. Mourning and victory, always a solemn pair.
He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but someone called out your name, and the edge of desperation and worry in their voice cut through you like a knife. And Jason remembered you, knew you, and saw everything written on your face.
"We'll figure out this mess together." He swiped his thumb over your bottom lip before nudging your shoulder in the direction the voice had come from. "Lead the way, Centurion."
Your stomach was still in knots, so you pressed your lips into a firm line. But Jason was a warm strength at your back, and he kept his promise of together, and followed you dutifully.
War took and took, but sometimes it gave.
Jason, your Jason, was back. And maybe there were still a million questions to answer, boundaries to fix and homes to rebuild, but you knew Jason would be by your side through it all.
An unwavering force behind your relentless dedication.
War took and took, but things would be okay.
Things would be okay.
a/n: im allergic to sad endings (jk I just can't write them they always feel unfinished when I try) also this took me forever bc I was so incredibly worried that the finale would flop but I kinda love this so im just gonna full send
tag, you're it! @aezuria @tayswiftlovebot @bonnie-tz @folklorefantasies14 @sunshine-of-ur-life @irwinchester @bellamysnatblida @saph-nic @auroraofthesun1 @helloimamistake @maybxlle @p-rspective @lauptimist @dontstopxx @apollosfavkiddo @ebony-reine-vibes @poppysrin @valromanoff @jesuschrist2006 @pariahsparadise @killaari @marshmummy @sofiacblair
#jason grace#jason grace fanfiction#jason grace fanfic#jason grace x you#jason grace x reader#jason grace x y/n#rays of sun#cool about it
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YOUR CELESTIAL MAJESTY • SAGAU
(part 0 here)
was listening to TruE on loop while writing the last part of this, it's genuinely such a good song ugwvdya
also can you spot the contradiction ;D it's plot relevant i promise
not proofread, dont bully me ill write a thesis on why youre a meanie
—
you had long deleted genshin, since you had other things to do. you had wanted to go back to the game for a while now, now that you were less busy, but there was just one little problem.
it was now taking up nearly triple the amount of space that it was when you uninstalled it. around 300 whole gigabytes.
jesus christ, what phone can even handle this???
your phone, apparently. because as you opened the game to see if maybe a miracle would happen and that if maybe they would just, like, remove half of the things in the game, it just… kinda loaded?
no installing new files, no checking for anything, no nothing…. just an immediate pan to the gates of celestia.
you decided to check if it was the right genshin since this was just way too weird, but countering your judgement, every link you found led you to the same game, leading you to believe it not to be a bootleg or an illegal version.
guess i’ll trust it then.
you clicked on the gates which opened smoothly, and your screen turned white. then, the symbols of the seven elements appeared in gray.
and then the game just… opened. no loading time, once again. no getting stuck on the geo symbol, nothing. nada. just a smooth entrance into what you had to assume to be teyvat — but your surroundings didn't really support that claim.
the grass was brown and just looked off, the sky was gray. a darker shade than, say, mond’s walls, but it was like one of those game crashes.
well, except you could still move around.
you moved your current character around (the traveller? since when were they the only one in your team?) and decided to open the map after not figuring out where you could possibly be.
hold on, this is springvale? since when?
eveything looked dead, like it had been rotting for a century. you tried to ignore it though, and teleported to the inside of mondstadt. surely this was just some glitch, right? one that would fix itself if you teleported?
maybe the world loaded incorrectly, maybe the fact that nothing took time to load meant that it couldn't load, maybe this or that, maybe…
maybe this really was how the game looked normally. you hadn't done any quests though, so you wondered if it could be restored.
you took a screenshot of the your surroundings — the stone, worn down and dirty. the houses which looked to be in a horrible state, and… the npcs, all sickly and pale, like they were starving.
you went to reddit (yes, reddit), and posted the screenshot, asking if it was normal.
you closed the game and decided to take a nap, too tired to really deal with this shit any further.
while you slumbered, people replied to your post.
╰┈➤ lol me too anon, me too
╰┈➤ isn't the game closed or wtv? how'd you get this wtf
╰┈➤ they're trolling
╰┈➤ o makes sense oops
╰┈➤ So we’re all still mourning huh
╰┈➤ jokes aside that's a super impressive edit ngl
you remained unaware of the truth, but you'd find out soon enough.
actually, you'd find out now, apparently…
what the fuck?? why is my bed so hard now?
you groaned and forced your eyes open, seeing a dark, nearly black sky.
the only light was a single star, lingering right above you.
“since when was i outside...?"
a voice spoke to you, answering your question.
“you always have been, have you not? but would you like to head inside, my lord?”
... huh? i recognize that voice...
—
p.s. place your bets on who it is, i’m thinking of one specific character but if there's a fan fav i'll make it them instead since i haven't written anything beyond this point (・_・;)
p.s.s. don't expect updates to this series too quickly, i wish i could write as quick as i think of ideas but sadly that's not the case orz
#genshin impact#genshin x reader#sagau#yandere x reader#yandere genshin impact#yandere genshin x reader#yippie#genshin self aware#genshin self aware au
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Tmnt mutant mayhem with a human sister reader (only but a year younger) with some fluff and a bit of hurt/comfort. Taking place after the movie where the groups starts high school, but the reader is having a hard trying to fit in with other humans.
Mutan Mayhem request! I’m so sorry anon but my brain gave up like halfway though but i finish to finish 💪 pushed through and after like almost a month it’s done haha. I kinda hated this one i’m so sorry again 😭
Last of this format btw </3
Type ->
Headcanons
Pairing ->
Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello, Michelangelo + GN!Reader (separate)
Warning(s) ->
Insecurities, and grammar mistakes. Ooc(???)
Summary ->
You and your brothers go to school, but being raised by mutants you are struggling to fit in.
Masterlist
You are a human raised by mutants. And the only one your dad ever seemed to trust.
Growing up to think humans were bad- well except for you. There was always an exception for you.
And after we meeting April, taking down Superfly and finally starting highschool—maybe—other humans weren’t so bad.
Or so you thought because fitting it just didn’t click as easy as it did for the others.. and people weren’t as welcoming to you as you and your brothers would’ve believed.
Leonardo
He isn’t the first to pick up something’s amiss with you. But second.
He’s your eldest brother, grew up watching you develop your personality and quirks, knowing how you act, what you like, the commonality of your body language.
He’d pick up something off shortly.
He first notices something’s up with you when you become more reserved even to them, even in the littler ways.
You seemed more nervous if not completely anxious at school.
At first he thought you were having a rough few days, but the longer it went on the more concerned became.
So he confronted you.
Leo had always been protective of his siblings, you especially with both being the youngest and the only human of them. He searched for you high and low, finding you in one of the more quiter places of school. The library.
“Hey you, whatcha doing in here?”
“Oh- Leo, i’m just uh.. looking at books?” You grab at a random book and open it.. upside down.
“Sure..” Leo corrected the book, sitting beside you, obviously worried. “If something’s up you can talk to me.”
You didn’t look at him, but he offered you a shoulder and accepting, you leaned on it. Sitting in silence for awhile like that.
“How did you guys do it..?”
“What do you mean?”
“…Fit in.”
“Fit- is someone doing something to you? Are they hurting you? bullying you-?”
“No no! I just.. I dont think I fit in—or that people like me—I mean you’re heroes! You saved the city and i’m just here? The turtles human sibling, You’re little sibling.”
Leo turned holding your hands in his. “You are absolutely a hero! You got all those people out of those buildings, ones superfly would’ve sent crumbling and crushing all those civilians. You might not have taken him down but you saved lives. Don’t you ever forget that.” He pulled you into a hug. One you reciprocated.
“Love you, Leo.”
“Love you to.”
Leo made sure you were never left out after that.
Boasting about all you did to save people, saying his cool his little sibling is, etc.
Raphael
He loves you all, just in his own Raph way.
Like Leo as your older brother he grew up watching you become you.
But he’d notice around the time you weren’t coming to sparing, and even when you did there isn’t a lot of effort. You don’t show up to his wrestling matches like his brothers and dad.
You were always so supportive of him and of all of your brothers for that matter.
They would search for you but couldn’t find you anywhere. It scared his brothers on occasion, including him but he’d always put on a brave face.
He becomes even more worried when you start becoming distant to all of them.
Raphael finally went to go confront you about it after a week of it.
He scoured the hallways trying to find you, you’d been leaving earlier and earlier to get to school. He left earlier to find you, alone where there weren’t a lot a of people around. Then he found you in the hallway.
And you were by yourself, holding your phone as you just.. stared.
“Hey?” Your turtle brother sat beside you, scaring you and you hide your phone.
“Hey- uh hey raph, raphael, raphala, rapha-“ he gave you a look. You both sat there for a second. Just in each other’s company before Raph spoke up.
“Listen, i’m cutting to the chase. What’s going on?”
“What- what do you mean?”
“You know what I mean, you’ve been avoiding us. Distant, Somethings going on and you can’t avoid talking about it anymore.” He looked at you with seriousness, that fighting spirit of his wasn’t going to let you get away easily.
You look away from him, phone falling from your hand, landing face up. You hadn’t been hiding it, so what did you expect. Them to not pick up on it?
“You don’t gotta tell me everything, just something so I know how to help. Kay?” Raph and emotional vulnerability were two things you didn’t see together often.
You pick up your phone and show it to him, you talk as he looks over the articles you had pulled up. All articles about them.
“I think it’s great, the articles. I’m proud. of all of you. For saving the city, and our home. Everyone celebrated you and you deserve it.”
Raphael looked at you, not knowing where this was going.
“I.. do others- They all love you and I try to talk to students and make friends, but they always ask me about you guys.”
Raph had watched you help countless humans that day, yet you let them have all the praise and credit. He hadn’t noticed why.
“They dont know what they’re missing out on. You’ll find the right people who like you for you, and just not because you’re our little sibling.” Raph pulled you into a side hug. And you both sat there until school started.
Donatello
Donnie would see the signs, even if he’s a bit arrogant and sarcastic he definitely cares for all of you, no question asked. Your all his siblings the people he grew up with.
So when he starts noticing the distancing early.
Idk maybe he saw you in one of his animes or shows or smth and was like ‘oh.. OH.’
He’d confront you during lunch.
He had searched the library, cafeteria, and courtyard for you. Yet you just weren’t there, so he knew of only one more place to look.
There you were, he had a feeling he’d find you in your favorite teachers classroom. So he walked on in and sat at the desk closet to you. He looked at you.
“Oh! Donnie- hi. You okay..?”
“I could ask you the same thing. Are you ok?”
You sat there knowing but not at the same time what he meant.
“What do you mean? I’m fine.”
“Then why are you avoiding us? You don’t usually miss our anime binges! You’ve missed like three new episodes of anime.”
You nod, you had and didn’t realize.
“What’s going on.”
You look up at him and it all falls out, the insecurity of being around other humans, the way they make you feel, the way you try. But you just don’t fit in, not like how they do it.
Donnie looks at you and pulls you into a hug.
“Youre like Deku, you just gotta do it and don’t give up.”
Michelangelo
He as the youngest is most likely the brother you are closest too and not just in age.
He would notice the changes and made plans to confront you.
But this is a different case, you seek out Mikey rather than him confronting you.
You and Mikey had stayed before one day at the house while everyone went out to do their own stuff. You found him in your brothers room.
He’s scribbling in a notebook, likely comping up with something for his improv club. You walk up at sat beside him.
Mikey notices immediately and put his attention on you.
“What’s up?”
“How do you know if others like you?” You pulled your legs in and rested your head on your knees. Looking at him.
“Are people being mean to you?”
“No- not really I just. I don’t think I fit in with them. Not like you guys..” You say recalling all your attempts to make friends and reach out. You felt embarrassed about that.
“If it helps we could try improving something to help you?”
“Yeah.. I’d like that.” You smiled as you both got to work.
#acerrr writings#tmnt#tmnt mm#tmnt mutant mayhem#tmnt x reader#tmnt mm x reader#tmnt mutant mayhem x reader#tmnt leonardo#tmnt leonardo x reader#tmnt raphael#tmnt raphael x reader#tmnt donatello#tmnt donatello x reader#tmnt michelangelo#tmnt michelangelo x reader
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#undertale#sans undertale#alphys#transgender#amalgamates#btw the fact that this comic has exactly 11 images gave me fucking hell#because when i tried to put it into tumblr i got the error message ''mobile tumblr allows only a maximum of 10 images'' or w/ever#so i went to my browser app and opened tumblr on desk top mode and couldnt find the make post button for 7 billion years#because the only place you can find it is in the. when you click on a tag and go to the tag page#theres a lil blue button that lets you make a post with that tag in it#so i had to play word association with the tags#jumping through them like wikipedia pages just to find something applicable to this post#which in hindsight i could have just looked up undertale in the tag search#or selected the first tag i saw and removed it from the final post#but i have never claimed to be a wise man#so then i could finally insert the 11 plus images.#but the formatting was shit and i couldnt rearrange it from the browser#because i was trying to click and drag on desktop mode on a mobile device#so my screen just scrolled around aimlessly and nothing was happening#so i saved the post as a draft and then went back into the tumblr app to arrange them correctly#and it might still break because of the eleven image thinh#who knowws#sans#utdr#myart
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I love all of these goofy product photos where the water bottle is extremely obviously just photoshopped onto a stock image of someone pretending to hold something or whatever.. very convincing..
#the last one where the water bottle is like nearly the size of the woman's entire leg ghbjbjhh#ALSO I know.. gross.. nasty.. amazon.. I was only looking there because I was trying to find an exact replica of an old water bottle#I bought like 6 years ago in a store and I just wanted another one of those and it seemed like the only place the old manufacturer#still sold was through amazon but.. alas.. I think they just don't make them anymore. so I have abandoned my hunt#I didn't actually buy anything. but I did get distracted clicking through product images for a few of them#it's bizarre how like............... idk.. WHY is this done??? Isn't this offputting to basically ANY potential customer?? or do people#not look at every photo/read the entire page/all product information before buying??#all of these are from like front page ''top sellers'' or whatever like........... how does this not hurt the brand????#If the company can't even bother to take a single photo of a real life person using their real life product then... that to me#is kind of red flaggy..?? even if you're an indie start up small business with hardly any funds.. still#A real photo of the product you are selling in a real actual non-photo shopped environment does not seem that inacessible#Maybe it's because everyone does everything on phones now?? So it's harder to see the pictures when they're smaller?#Kind of the same thing with ai art and also hair color photoshops lol.. On my full comptuer screen it is SOOO easy to spot ai art#like IMMEDIATELy from the little tells and ways certain details morph into each other etc. I dont even mean obvious dalle mini stuff but#like the Fancy High Quality Photorealistic AI art is still pretty blatant 98% of the time if you know what to look for. But I still catch#people sharing it a lot like 'omg where can I buy this pair of shoes!! :O <3' .. erm you cannot.. that is the most balatantly fake looking#pair of shoes I have seen in my life hhjbj.. the heels are both different heights. there's a different number of straps on each one. etc.#AND that phase back before colored hair was Mainstream and people would post photos like 'omg going to bring this to the salon!! dream hair#and it's like.. you can LITERALLY see the parts where it's 'colored outside of the lines' and is so clearly just a person with blond hair#that someone drew over with a tint brush or something not even very neatly. etc. etc. ANYWAY.. Maybe with phones it's harder to tell these#things?? To me so much of it is instantly recognizable and it's suprising to me that people either don't notice or don't care and will#interact with it anyway by buying the product or acting like some ai art fake furniture is real or etc. etc. ..hewwoo#Aslo sidenote - I think I've become soo cynical and tired of constantly being advertised to that I literally cannot shop without getting#exhausted. I do not see how marketing is anything but obnoxious and transparent. Every item description having stuff like ''Our company is#commited to bringing you the highest quality water products! we set out with a mission to bring high quality products to people all over#the world and we believe in spreading health and happiness and'' just like SHUT THE HELL UP!! youre a fucking company#you don't ''beleive'' in anything you are here to sell a product. stop trying to talk like you're my bff who cares deeply about my health#or something just tell me the materials and product specifications of your stupid fucking water bottle and move on. Idont need to hear your#whole bullshit spiel about what ~your company stands for~ that is SO much MORE offputting. you make me want to buy the item LESS..#longing for the type of ads from my 1800s magazines that are just like 'this product is good. please buy it. okay thank you much. bye'
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it turned to smut in seconds, i cannot control my own hands, ok. 18+ (implication of breeding kink or something and simon's a jealous boy)
ex-husband simon who signed the divorce papers without a fight. it'd stung, you're not gonna lie, but it needed to be done and the fact that he didn't make a big fuss about it made things easier for you physically. (emotionally you were in shambles because did he not even want to try and fight for you?)
he comes over only on the weekends when he's on leave.
he's a good father to his boys. he takes them to their softball games when he can, buys them the ice cream and takes them toy shopping.
and then there's a sharp knock at your door on a wednesday afternoon.
"simon?"
he walks in like he owns the place, which technically he does- even pays the mortgage because there's no way you would be able to afford living here with your own measly income.
"what's this the boys are tellin' me 'bout a man bein' in here?" his voice is calm, steady. but you know simon better than you know yourself, and he's furious.
"i- i'm not sure-" he swipes his hand in the air and your mouth clicks shut.
"don't lie t'me, poppet, or i'll be findin' him myself an' you really don't want tha'."
what man? there hasn't been any since the divorce! you're digging through your memories, scrambling to find what the hell he's talking about when-
"oh! it's the plumber!" you take steadying breath. "i called a plumber on sunday. i needed the kitchen sink fixed."
his dark eyes are piercing, so sharp they could cut. simon's always been a walking lie detector, and it's unnerving to be on the opposite end of that analyzing stare.
he nods imperceptibly, then flicks his gaze to behind you, over your head. "show me."
you scoff indignantly. "show you what? the bloody sink?"
simon wordlessly heads to the kitchen and his knees pop as he kneels-
he's actually checking the fucking sink.
with a grunt, he leans his head into the cabinet and twist awkwardly which is no doubt causing a familiar pain to flare up in his lower back. you can't help but wince in sympathy.
lo and behold, there's a shiny, white elbow in the middle of the rest of the dirty, scratched pipe.
he hums, and rises to his feet, closing the cabinet with his leg.
simon approaches you slowly, fingertips touching the kitchen island as he rounds it. "palms flat on the counter, sweetheart."
oh. oh you know exactly what that means, and your pussy throbs almost in reflex. months without his touch and your body still responds the same.
your protest already at the tip of your tongue, almost involuntarily because principles, but he sees right through you, as he's always done.
"jus' a reward for all o' your hard work. takin' care o' the boys is a stressful job all on its own." his worn hand cups the underside of your jaw tenderly. "aren't i always good t'ya?"
your exhales are weak, just like your resolve. "okay."
simon's eyes glint with satisfaction as he lifts his hand, index pointing upwards and twirls it in a slow, deliberate motion.
your palms are flat on the counter when he curls his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and knickers, tugging them downward.
they're flat on the counter when he lowers himself to his knees and taps the inside of your foot, indicating you to widen your stance.
they're curled into fists when his breath puffs against your slick cunt and his warm tongue slides through your folds, drawing lazy circles around your bud. a tingle of arousal shoots up your spine, his mouth sparking a fire right under your navel.
they're reaching for simon, nails sinking into the delicate skin of his wrist as your back bows when you come on his tongue, vision spotted with black, blurry dots and white hot ecstasy coursing through your veins.
your hands are now crossed at the base of your spine, your cheek pressing into the cool kitchen counter as he bends you over it.
"15 minutes before the boys are home from school. tha's plenty o'time, yeah?"
a rhetorical, if you've ever heard one.
your knuckles stain white as you clench your fists at the heavy, hot weight of his manhood stretching your walls to take him in, a sweet burn that you've always loved. he's gentle but sure, bottoming out in one smooth stroke that pushes the air out of your lungs. the sibilant hiss simon lets out is never fails to elicit a whimper out of you.
"fuck," he groans. "i could stay inside this pretty pussy forever."
and the dirty talk. how much you've missed it.
"would you like tha', pet? be inside of ya til you don't know where i end and you begin?"
a garbled mhm slips past your lips. your head already empty at just the sensation of being so unbearably full that it feels like you're tearing at the seams.
"another time, then, since the kids'll be home soon."
he begins to move, shallow but firm thrusts that drag his cock along your nerves deliciously- a sure fire way of getting you to climax around him in minutes.
your walls begin to squeeze down as the knot in your stomach tightens, and he lets go of your wrists, looping an arm around your waist and straightens you- his broad chest to your much smaller back.
his clever fingers wind downwards, and rub precise, little circles on your slippery clit, and it's all too much, you're hurtling toward the precipice at neck break speed- "god, simon, please-"
his pace never falters, not his hips nor his fingers as your moans begin to rise in pitch. "i'll get ya there, love."
he does, he gets you to your highest peak- blindingly intense- one that chokes the very breath out of you and slackens your knees. "i've got ya."
there's no strength left in you to brace for the spine-jarring thrusts he gives after, the only thing keeping you from sprawling forward is the arm that's looped around you as he pulls you to him.
"on anything?" he rumbles.
your ears ring at that because he can't possibly- your head shakes unbidden.
"good."
the last four thrusts are heavy, backed by his weight, and he smothers a loud groan into the junction of your shoulder as he finishes inside of you- thick, viscous cum filling you until it begins to drip and fall to the floor with an audible plop.
he presses tender little kisses to your sweaty shoulder and nips the side of your neck. "just in time."
the clock on the stove says 5 minutes before the bus gets there.
he helps you redress, chuckling under his breath when you won't look him in the eye. "i'll get the kids, go get cleaned up."
the knot in your chest loosens when you hear the boys' laughter at seeing their father on the driveway. it loosens when simon picks both of them up, one in each arm, and glances up at you as you look down at them from the window.
heat licks up your cheeks when he gives you a smarmy little grin.
idiot.
#call of duty#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x f reader#simon ghost riley smut#simon ghost riley x reader#cod mw2#simon ghost riley x you#simon riley smut#cod smut#cod mwii#simon riley#ghost smut
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𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃｜JJK EDITION
synopsis : can you and your older brother's best friend keep a shared secret? a secret of fucking behind your brother's back ... if not then your screwed.
cont. affairs with your brother’s friend, teasing, small age gap, fingering [underneath the table w/ gojo], blowjob, slight dirty talk, exhibitionism, mild degradation, laundry room sex w/ toji, bathroom bj w/ geto, car sex w/ nanami. pairings : toji, nanami, gojo and geto
𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈
the sneaky one who's always ready for thrills and fun because he somehow gets off to it. your older brother met toii a few months ago and they instantly clicked into being best friends, but the moment you and toii set eyes on each other- you knew something was bound to happen. he always had this lustful-like glint within his eyes which seemed to lure you in closer each time he stopped by the house.
"t-toii this is not the place for this." you slapped his hand away from your ass. you were wearing an oversized shirt with panties; loading the washer-machine with dirty clothes. "mmm why not?" he whispered in your ear with a lingering, yet seductive husk-pressing against your ass. your brother was in his room not too far away from the laundry room, about ten feet away and there's his room. "my brother is here!" you quietly shouted, the thought of your brother finding out that you're fucking his best friend terrified you - no could know, that was a secret you were willing to take to the grave. "if he comes here i'll just say i was helping you out with laundry." he grinned, tugging the hem of your panties. "but as of now. you felt your feet levitate off the ground, "can you help me with this." he place you on top of the washing before sliding your panties to the side.
𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈
the both of you were acquainted prior to his friendship with your brother. your friends were friends of his; therefore, you saw and spoke with him a couple times. though now things were different since he's became a known relative to your family. everything started off smooth, you and him exchanged glances here and there- but you never thought things would progress from there on.
your body pressed against his chest as you rocked back and forth on his length. "shitt angel." nanami cursed out with his hand placed on your waist- watching the way your breast bounced with each rock. "make sure you're watching out for my brother." you panted out as your arms grabbed onto the headrest behind nanami's head. the two of you were fucking in nanami's car since he picked you up from campus to drop you off home. "don't worry." he hissed throwing his head back, "he won't be here till evening." his hands began roaming your body, cupping one of your breasts in his large hand- squeezing around it like a stress ball before pinching your nipple. "mmph! nanami!" you squealed feeling the sensitivity sprout as you squeeze around his length. "ya gonna cum from that?" a cheeky chuckle left his throat before teasing you more.
𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎
the school playboy who just happened to befriend your brother. his reputation wasn't the great, but so wasn't your brother's sadly. the only reason gojo was able to get into university was because he was great at rugby. when he found out that you were a smart kid, he made sure to bypass his way into having you tutor him in hopes of getting closer to you and somehow it worked. the both of you would sit at the table and study together.
"gotta stay quiet if you don't want your brother noticing you getting finger-fucked by is best friend." gojo slyly teased, whispering against your ear. your sitting crisscrossed with your panties pulled to the side as gojo's hand sits in between your thighs as his fingers pace through your folds. "we're suppose to be studying." you bit your lower lip trying to hold back a moan with your head lying against the face of the table. "my brother went to get water." you warned, signaling that he could open the door at any given moment as gojo's fingers continued grazing your sweet spot. "well..." gojo opened your legs with his free hand, fingering into your cunt deeper- you muffling your moan with the palm of your hand. "if you don't have want your brother knowing how much of a slut you are for me. you'll cum before he enters that door." he taunted with a tainted amount of lust traveling through his raspy tone.
𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎
the smart guy who excels top of his class. no one would guess that his into anything physically sinful, but you knew. the day him and your brother decided to watch porn together, which resulted him with a hard-on- walking pass the hallway into the bathroom, seeing you at the corner of his eye was been everything turned left.
"do you wanna help me out?" his narrowed eyes peered in your direction- your eyes wide in surprise from seeing such a view that was least expected. " i-umm." you stuttered out, eyes glued to his crotch as you fidgeted. "it's a yes, or no question. he huffed, brushing his hair back with his fingers as he opened the door to the bathroom with you deciding to trail behind him. the bathroom door is closed and your brother's room is on the other side of the hallway, yet you still decided to join geto's sinful activity. "sit here." he pointed to the toilet as he unbuckled his trousers, freeing himself of his boxers. you sat on the toilet cover with your mouth pouring with anticipation as get closed the distance between the two of you. "try not to choke. i don't need your brother hating me." he huffed, pressing his tip against the plush of your lips as you allowed him inside you mouth- almost gagging in reflex.
#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk x reader#jjk smut#toji x reader#nanami x reader#gojo x reader#geto x reader#toji smut#nanami smut#gojo smut#geto smut#jjk imagines
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since I've seen it talked about in several places recently:
if you are going to do a whump- or kink- or ANY-tober or other similar challenges please please please don't post them as one fic with 31 chapters unless it actually is one coherent fic. if they're 31 completely separate fics or ficlets then please just make a collection for them or just post them as separate fics. it doesn't matter if they're only 100 words or if you think they're too small or insignificant to post alone, they're not.
and why this?
because if you post all 31 of them in one fic the tagging is absolutely useless. if I look for things to read on ao3 I'm gonna look at the tags, and if the tags include something that's a dealbreaker for me, i won't even click on the fic. I might not even SEE the fic because I've filtered out the nope-tag! so I'm gonna lose out on reading 30 perfectly nice fics because of one fic that my nope-tag applied to.
ao3 is about archiving. it's about clear tagging and being informative. there is nothing informative about it if the tags in the fic apply to random chapters while others have nothing to do with it. it makes so much more sense to have each work as an individual fic with its own individual tags and warnings, so readers can make informed choices.
of course, you do you. I can't police what other people decide to do. but personally, I find it incredibly frustrating to weed through 31 chapters to find the ones I actually want to read. so I don't. I automatically scroll past all works posted like that. and I know some others do, too.
there is absolutely no shame in posting short things on ao3. there is no minimum word count. no one is going to look at you funny if you post a small ficlet on its own, I promise. it's just going to make some readers very happy when they can actually find the things they want to read.
so, please. at least consider the upsides of posting each work as their own fic.
signed, one very frustrated fandom grandma.
#ao3#fanfic#fandom#I'm not trying to dictate what others do#so if you still wanna keep posting#completely unrelated works as chapters of one thing#then go for it#i'm not your mom#but please at least consider the alternative#and how much easier it'll be for people to#both find it and to make informed choices#of what they want to read
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The wonderful wizard Ozz. I have had this concept stuck in my head like a worm!
Could you imagine a Darling escaping from their Yan, not to run but just to feel the rain on their skin? I've been consuming this prompt like a heroin addict and I can't seem to get enough!
If I were to expand your prompt, I quite like the idea of a Yandere that can't really go full yandere because Reader is just too willing. He loves yandere content and can very much relate, but none of the escalations can happen if, well, the object of his obsessive affection doesn't protest in the first place. Is it too far fetched from what you'd imagined? Let me elaborate:
Yandere! Male x Willing! Reader
AKA: When you want to be a Yandere, but your Darling unfortunately cooperates.
The Yandere has been stalking Darling for months. Journal entries, walls plastered with photos (and the occasional creepshots), recordings. He just can't get enough of his Darling. He loves everything about you and can barely function throughout the day, fantasizing about your life together.
Enough is enough and he finally decides to make you his. He's been consuming media of similar tropes, with obsessed men pleading for a chance and having to force their way in because of rejection and fear. He's prepared for everything. Your tears, your trembling voice, your hands pushing him away. He finds you, approaches you and confesses his feelings, knuckles white as he grips his fists in anticipation. Your eyes widen for a moment, before narrowing in a smile. "I had no idea! Sure, I'll go out with you." Huh? Wait. This wasn't...this wasn't in the plan. Somehow he'd been certain you'd refuse. He must've mumbled the last part out loud, because you respond with "Why would I say no?"
A very good point indeed. You will change your mind, however, once you learn the extent of his love. You're holding his hand and following along as he takes you to his place, completely and utterly unaware of what you're about to witness. He can't truly be your boyfriend if he has to hide his very nature, after all. You might be disgusted, frightened, offended. He can already hear your screams, demanding explanations. It's all out of love. "It's okay if you don't understand", he mumbles to himself, watching your frozen body as you gaze into his room. You take a couple of steps towards the nearest wall, tracing the hundreds of images with your fingers. "Wow. You never mentioned being into photography", you remark, impressed. "It's like an exhibition! But...you might have to work on your angles", you blurt out, a little embarrassed, pointing to one of the creepshots. "This isn't very flattering. Did you take it in a hurry? It makes my legs look disproportionate." He can only stare, taken aback. "S-sorry" is all he manages.
Okay, but don't imagine your life will continue as usual. You've only seen a glimpse of his adoration. Now that you're officially dating, he cannot allow anyone else to have access to you. You have to understand, he cannot protect you properly if you're not under his watch all the time. As much as he cherishes you, he will have to be rough if needed. That's what he tells himself as he shoves the required tools in the trunk of his car, speeding towards your apartment. Once there, he fidgets on the sofa, considering his speech. You seem to be just as uneasy - perhaps you're predicting what's to come? - casting your eyes down and giving short answers. "I think you should move in with me." He states solemnly. You gasp and throw a hand over your mouth, and tears quickly well in the corner of your eyes. "How did you...how did you know?" You say between sobs. Huh? "I didn't want to burden you with my problems, seeing as we just started dating...but my landlord won't renew the lease. I was so scared I'd be homeless."
He clicks his tongue. This isn't very yandere, more like the average couple experience. You bring the final moving box to his car, fitting it in the trunk. "By the way, what's with all the rope?" you ask. "Just move it aside", he sighs. How can he explain it? He's been training, sweating and bleeding for a marathon and right before the whistle, they handed him the first prize. His muscles are aching for the sprint that never happened. Of course he's grateful to have you at last, but somehow he feels like he hasn't proven his dedication properly. You just don't get it, do you? How sickening his love is for you.
As the days pass, he eases into his role of...how does one even call it? Pseudo-captor? When you found his journal, you blushed and confessed how no one before him put this amount of effort into knowing you. All the male contacts from your phone vanishing? It was about time you cleaned up your acquaintances and it was nice of him to help. The AirTags he's hidden in your bags and pockets? You appreciate his safety concerns. Nowadays, with all these perverts freely walking the streets, you can never be too sure.
One morning he wakes up to an empty bed. He jolts up, dazed. Could it be his wish was finally granted? You must've gotten tired of him and tried to escape. Oh, silly little Darling love. You should've known there's no more walking out once you said yes. He checks his phone and pounces out, ready for the hunt. As he sprints along the street, he finds you suspiciously close to his home. Not very smart of you to...what are you even doing? Your hands are raised up, fingers fanned out under the pouring rain. You notice his presence and turn to face him with a wide, childish grin. "I haven't done this since I was a child. When was the last time you felt the rain on your skin?" Only now it occurs to him he's been running in this downpour and his clothes are soaked. He was too focused on finding you.
"I thought you escaped", he almost whispers. "Escape? From what?" You tilt your head in confusion. He places his cold, large hands over your cheeks. "Do you comprehend I'm very much obsessed with you? I'm not joking around. You're never, ever leaving me. You're stuck here forever. I mean it. I really do. I'd rather kill you with my own hands than let you go. Because I love you." You take a moment to admire the intricate patterns of his irises, pupils dilated in a spiraling madness. By the end of his erratic oration, he's panting and digging his nails into your skin.
"I know."
#yet another parody I'm so sorry#yandere#yandere x darling#yandere x reader#yandere x you#male yandere#male yandere x reader#yandere headcanons#yandere scenarios#yandere imagines#yandere obsession#obsessive love#tw yandere#yandere oc x reader#gender neutral reader#gn reader
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#i'm very pro danny accidentally adopts a whole bunch of talons previous installments
*
The next day, the body was back.
The green was gone from its eyes, but the awareness wasn't; it spent about an hour watching people go around outside Danny's apartment, which was new behavior. None of the corpses that shadowed him had shown any interest in garden-variety humans before. Now it sat at the window and watched families come home from school or head to their afternoon shifts.
That went into Danny's notes.
After that hour, it taught itself to flush the toilet repeatedly, rearranged the contents of Danny's half-assed linen closet (again) and then stood hovering over the safe where Danny had stashed the ectoplasm.
"...Okay," said Danny.
The dead body croaked. It was a new sound, but there was no context for it. Danny just kind of...wrote it down and hoped for the best.
The day after, Danny woke up at a very reasonable ten forty eight in the morning to find stray corpses feeding each other spoonfuls of ectoplasm in the kitchen.
At that point he kind of had to throw out the notes on how much each one was dosed with, because what the fuck.
"Really?!" Danny shouted, spooking the bodies into fleeing behind chairs and doors and back into his closet again. The only one that didn't flee was Danny's ringmaster corpse of the hour, of course. "You really couldn't wait??"
It stuck out a withered black tongue out at the mortician, who was, really, the victim in all of this. A victim to his parents' whims and a victim to the dead people who followed him around all the time.
This was how Danny found out that, when it doubt, the corpses could just tear through solid steel if they were motivated enough. The finger-marks were so deep and so embedded that they actually looked more like rough claws in the metal.
Great.
Danny ordered a new locking cage for the fridge on Prime and darted off to work. One of his regulars was on the table, though, so Danny just ended up doing what he would have at home— sewing up a gash in its neck and reattaching dead fingers back onto dead stumps.
On the third day, in which four of Danny's frequent fliers had learned from the first how to flush the toilet (and therefore raise the water bill immensely) Danny got a ring from a dark voice he (almost) recognized.
"Is he here?"
Danny squinted, jerking the phone further under his ear as he whipped up some scrambled eggs. The dead girl leaning over his shoulder leaned a little closer to watch the egg froth up. "Is who here? Who is this?"
"This is Batman. Is— the body requisitioned from your facility currently at your place of residence?"
Danny fully let go of the whisk. It landed haphazardly in the glass bowl he'd been stirring in. "What on Earth is a Batman?" he asked, incredulous.
"I visited your workplace previously."
Oh! "Yeah, the cop's friend. I remember now." Danny pulled the whisk out of the liquid eggs and held it out to the body. The unusually animate cadaver mostly prodded the whisk wires and paid no attention to him. "No one's here but me, though. Not that it's your business...?"
"And there are no non-living bodies currently in your apartment?"
Danny ignored the flushing noise in the other room. "I don't know, dude. They practically live in the walls at this point. Don't come over unless you have a warrant."
The call ended with a click.
His omelette turned out amazing, by the way. In case you were wondering.
On the fourth day, the ectoplasm was gone, because the corpses had apparently all taught each other how to lockpick the container in the fridge.
"Okay, some of that was meant to be my dinner. No more lotion at the funeral home now, okay? Now you all can be ashy forever. I'm so serious," Danny complained to the only visible dead person in the room.
The dead person held up a cracked egg. It was probably a gesture of peace, but now there was egg on his vinyl flooring to deal with. And. It wasn't exactly all that comforting in the end.
On the fifth day, Danny awoke to the sensation of a hand jamming itself through his neck until it punched into the mattress beneath him.
Fuck.
#dp x dc#I'm very pro Danny accidentally adopts a whole bunch of talons#could absolutely be an excuse for#talon!dick#talons#faer fic#dpxdc#dcxdp#death tw#well. the funeral industry anyway#medical tw#corpse tw#dead people#dcu crossover#the original post is free to a good home but I'm just chugging along here
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Surrender
Summary: Finding your soulmate is supposed to be a romantic, life changing experience.
No one tells you what to do when a). your soulmate is the homicidal maniac who led the successful takeover of your planet and made himself king and b). you kind of still want him anyway.
(Soulmate AU where Loki won)
Pairing: Loki x Female Reader
Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, dirty talk, praise kink, oral sex, teasing, orgasm delay, sex, vaginal fingering.
A/N: look, I was intrigued by the idea of a Loki Wins AU and also a soulmate AU and this just sort of happened. I may write more of this concept because it gave me IDEAS. This is also available on AO3.
The mark on your wrist begins to burn the minute he walks into the room.
At first you think it’s a coincidence or a mistake—there are guards walking with him, perhaps it’s one of them. But then he flinches, his right hand going to his left wrist and your heart sinks to your knees. It could still be a coincidence, you tell yourself halfheartedly.
He scans the room and when his eyes land on you, it’s like the tumblers of a lock clicking into place and you know.
He’s much taller than you thought he was—that’s the only conscious and coherent thought you manage to have as he approaches you. Being the subject of his gaze is overwhelming in a way that you sort of expect, but it still makes you want to sit down and close your eyes. He looks you over, his gaze lingering briefly on your nametag from work.
“Show me your wrist,” he says.
You don’t think he’s using his powers, but you comply automatically, extending your arm toward him, wrist turned up. There’s a frisson of electricity that buzzes along the back of your hand when he touches it—if there were any remaining doubts about who he is and his relationship to you, that feeling surely puts them to rest. You know that he must have felt something too from the way he looks at you sharply, as though he thinks you’ve done something intentional to cause this. You can only hope that your wide eyed bewilderment convincingly conveys your innocence.
His expression betrays nothing as he examines the mark on your wrist, which is now glowing a bright gold that would be pretty if the circumstances were different.
It’s funny, you think. You’ve been waiting for this moment your entire life and all you can think is that you wish it wasn’t happening.
He releases your hand and looks at you in a calculating sort of way. “Come with me,” he says finally.
You do, of course. What other choice do you have?
*
The next several hours are a blur.
You are shuffled from place to place. Usually there is at least one guard—you’re not sure why. The idea of you being able to do any damage to him is laughable and escape doesn’t exactly seem like an option. Where could you go that he could not find you?
It’s a depressing thought; you try not to think much about it.
You know exactly when the news breaks because it coincides with your phone basically becoming unusable due to the flood of notifications, calls, and texts. You put it on airplane mode to compose a short message to your family and friends. Your reassurances feel a little trite given the circumstances: I’m fine, I’ll call when I can.
You can’t exactly type what you’re really thinking, which is more along the lines of I’ve just learned that my soulmate is the homicidal maniac who led the successful takeover of our planet. I’m doing about as well as you’d expect.
You turn airplane mode off long enough to send the email. Once it sends, you power down your phone. It doesn’t seem prudent to leave it on, at least not right now—right now, it only serves as a reminder of a life you know you’re going to have to leave behind and you’re not at all ready to confront that particular loss.
They eventually take you to what you assume are his rooms. You’re surprised by how traditional the decor is—you had expected a cold sort of minimalism, but there’s more wood and warm colors than you would have thought. You are informed that there are clothes for you in the closet; you nod and say nothing, though you wonder how they managed to pull an entire wardrobe together in the span of only a few hours. Magic, perhaps.
You are finally left alone, though you’re fairly certain that you would find guards stationed outside if you were to look.
You take one of the elegant velvet throws from the bed and wrap it tightly around yourself before settling on the couch next to the window. You’re not exactly cold, but it feels like a necessary armor between you and this unfamiliar place.
You stare out the window for a long time. You’re too high up to people watch and you’re not sure that you could handle that anyway—it would be yet another reminder of the fact that your life has changed in a massive, earth shaking way that you can’t even begin to understand. Instead, you stare at the tiny cars on the city streets below, snaking their way to destinations that feel so far out of your grasp that they might as well be on a different planet altogether.
*
It’s late when he finally shows up—so late that you’ve actually gotten ready for bed, donning one of the silk nightgowns that had been left for you. You can tell it’s more expensive than any sleepwear you’ve ever owned in your life. You’re just glad that it’s modest—you had half expected to find that all your pajamas were bustiers, thongs, and thigh highs in some sort of ill considered attempt to seduce you. But this is elegant and understated, with a matching robe that you cinch tightly around your waist.
You sit on the couch, the throw still wrapped snugly around you. He looks at you, the corner of his mouth curled up in a slight smirk.
“I hope you don’t intend to stay there the entire night,” he says.
“I hardly know you,” you say before you can even contemplate whether it’s wise.
He looks…amused isn’t quite the right word, but there’s a subtle tilt to the corner of his lips—not quite a smile, but maybe somewhere in the vicinity.
“Give it time,” he says, and something about that makes you shiver.
*
You intend to sleep on the couch, at least for these first few nights when everything still feels so raw and strange.
Or that was your plan, anyway.
Loki doesn’t say anything else as he prepares for bed and you stare resolutely at the window so as not to invite any more conversation or prompt any invitations to join him in bed. Eventually, the lights go out and you are left alone with your thoughts in the dark.
The room is much colder at night.
You’re not sure if it’s on purpose, though you wouldn’t be surprised if it was. Perhaps he likes it like this. Perhaps it’s to lure you to him, to tempt you into seeking out the warmth of his bed and body.
You pull the blanket more tightly around your shoulders. Eventually, you allow your eyes to drift shut.
You wake some time later in the middle of the night. The room feels even colder, the velvet of the throw and the silk of your nightgown and robe a scanty defense against the chill. You burrow against the couch cushions and it’s sort of bearable.
But you also have to pee.
You hold off for as long as you can, but you eventually summon the will to leave the couch and seek out the bathroom.
The bathroom is even colder—perhaps it’s all that glass and marble that makes the difference. You’re wearing your robe and you’ve still got the blanket wrapped around you, but your teeth are chattering by the time you wash your hands. You run the water as hot as you can stand, but it only does so much. If you were braver—if it wasn’t your first night here, you would run an extra hot shower and stay under the spray until your fingers and toes pruned and the chill was chased from your bones.
Instead, you hustle back to the couch, burrowing against the cushions, throw and robe wrapped tightly around you. But you still can’t seem to shake the cold. You huddle on the couch, shivering, trying to calm your body.
Time passes and you don’t grow any warmer. You wonder if you can steal another throw from the bed—surely he won’t miss one—when a voice speaks from the darkness.
“Come to bed,” Loki says.
You clear your throat. “What?”
“I can hear your teeth chattering from here. Come to bed and stop being absurd.”
You hesitate, staring into the dark. You consider the cold, the slight kink in your neck from the way you’ve been sleeping on the couch, the late hour, the way that sleep pulls at your eyes. A bed is appealing. Maybe more appealing than it should be.
You find yourself getting to your feet and slowly making your way across the room.
You pause on the other side of the bed—your side, you suppose, though calling it that still feels too intimate. You can just make him out in the dark.
“You’ll stay on your side,” you say, like making it a statement will make it so.
“Well, you hardly know me.” His voice is clipped, more bitter than you expect as he echoes your words from earlier.
You can’t help but scowl. “I’ve known you for less than twenty-four hours and it’s the middle of the night. I’m not doing this right now.”
He laughs. It’s sharp and brittle and unexpected, but it’s a laugh all the same, and something about that helps, if only a little.
You don’t say anything else as you climb into bed. You find that the blankets are warm—warmer than you expect—and heavy. There’s a part of you that expects yourself to be too nervous and on edge to fully relax, but the coziness of the blankets piled around you is oddly calming, even with Loki mere inches away. You hunker down underneath the blankets, situating yourself on the pillows.
He doesn’t say anything and it’s not long until his breathing becomes steady and even.
And after a while, yours does, too.
*
Consciousness creeps up on you slowly the next morning, a far cry from the jarring alarm on your phone that usually disrupts your slumber. You are warm and cozy, cocooned in the blankets, safe from all of the bullshit that had happened yesterday.
It’s such a peaceful, easy awakening that it takes you a moment to realize that you aren’t alone.
It takes another moment for you to realize that your cheek is pressed against Loki’s chest. And to make matters worse, not only are your arms wrapped around his him, your right leg is also flung across his waist, like you can’t bear to be parted from him for even a moment.
But before the panic sets in, there is a barely perceptible moment where your body just enjoys the feeling of being pressed against him. It’s quick and you’d deny it if asked, but the rush that you get from giving into the pull of your soulbond for even that brief moment is nothing short of incredible.
But it’s just a moment and your mind quickly turns to the matter of extracting yourself without drawing his notice. Ideally, he’ll just stay asleep and you won’t have to deal with any awkward fallout. If you move very slowly and carefully, perhaps he won’t notice.
You carefully start to move your leg from his waist.
“To be clear, you’re on my side of the bed,” he says.
God fucking dammit.
You abandon all subtlety and quickly peel yourself away from him.
“I must have rolled over in my sleep,” you say, incredibly conscious of how stupid that sounds.
He smirks, which is somehow worse than if he’d said anything.
“It won’t happen again,” you say.
It does.
This is your new routine: you start every evening on the couch, wrapped up in your robe and throw. You wake some time in the night, teeth chattering. Sometimes, Loki will tell you to come to bed. Other times, you quietly give up and slip under the covers on your side of the bed.
But every morning without fail, you wake tangled around him.
Sometimes, he’s spooned up behind you; more often, though, you’re the one clinging to him. It’s as though your body has a homing device that leads you over to his side of the bed in your sleep, dutifully ignoring all of your stern warnings about who stays where.
The worst part of it is that you’re fighting your own instincts. On a very basic, physical level, you yearn to be close to him. There’s a part of you that revels in these unintentional moments of closeness, that wants to allow yourself to enjoy the feeling of him, to allow him to put his hands on your body, for you to put your hands on him.
The fact that he wakes up noticeably hard most mornings does not make this any easier.
This is a problem that you’re not entirely sure how to solve and the second week in, your desire for information finally outweighs your desire to avoid social media and the deluge of emails and texts that you know are waiting for you on your phone.
You turn your phone back on and immediately delete all of your social media apps. You don’t know what they’re saying about you and you don’t care to. You turn off all of your notifications, even the little number icons that show you how many unread emails and texts that you have. You want absolutely no distractions.
You open a private browser window and pull up Google.
Newly connected soulbonds are the hormonal equivalent of pouring out a bunch of gasoline and striking a match. Soulbonds are intended to be consummated. You know this. There are people who wait it out for one reason or another, but that’s very much the exception—it’s a physical and emotional test of endurance. And you’re beginning to understand why.
The internet is not very helpful. You already know what happens when you don’t consummate a soulbond promptly—increased arousal, restlessness, vivid dreams, and so on as time goes on. You’re more interested in mitigation. You find a few blogs that have entirely irrelevant suggestions like cuddling on the couch or holding hands. “While you’re waiting for intercourse, why not try some outercourse?” one post muses with a level of earnestness that causes you to immediately turn off your phone and fling it across the room.
You’re going to have sex with him at some point. That’s inevitable. On a very basic level, you want him—it’s more or less coded into your DNA. But that is at odds with the reality of who he is and what he’s done. It might feel good to wake up tangled around him, but it only takes a minute to remember the battle of New York and it nearly extinguishes the desire burning within you.
But only nearly and only for now.
*
The third week is when things start getting increasingly difficult.
Loki seems content to wait things out. You can feel the burn of his gaze on you, but he doesn’t push, doesn’t prod.
You, on the other hand, find yourself slipping into a heightened state of arousal that is becoming impossible to ignore. Midway through the week, you finally give in and try touching yourself in the shower in the hope of some relief and you come so quickly and so hard that you have to clap a hand over your mouth to keep from crying out and your legs very nearly buckle from the force of it. A few twitches of your fingers has you sprawled on the shower floor and coming again, harder than before. You repeat this trick a few times but even as strong as it is, it doesn’t really help—you’re back to where you started within minutes.
Worse though, is the fact that it’s his face that you see when you come. Every. Single. Time. You imagine him over you, his gaze dark and intent as he watches you come; slack jawed and hissing in pleasure as he pushes into you; growling in approval and impatience as you take his cock into your mouth. The images come entirely unbidden and stick in the forefront of your thoughts like a burr clinging to wool.
When you see him later that afternoon, his gaze lands on you in such a way that it feels like he knows everything you’ve done and everything you’ve seen, from that moment in the shower to the shameful thoughts you had as you came.
The dreams start shortly after, and they are objectively worse.
The dreams are far more vivid than just images. In the dreams, he’s touching you, coaxing you to peaks you could never have imagined, pressing into you, taking you hard and fast and achingly slow and everything in between. The dreams leave you out of breath and shaky, aching for a touch that you know that you should not want, but do with every fiber of your being. By some miracle, they only seem to occur while you are on the couch and not when you’re in bed, but that luck won’t hold forever.
Perhaps more importantly, you know it’s only a matter of time before you give in. Deep down, you’ve known this from the moment the mark on your wrist started to burn. Your resistance is eroding like a sandcastle at high tide and it’s only a matter of time before you crumble.
But not yet. Not yet.
*
Five weeks after your arrival, you wake sweating and out of breath from another dream.
You take a few deep breaths. It was similar to the ones you’d had before. Thinking about the details makes your core ache and your clit throb so you try to keep them out of your mind.
You’re half surprised that you’re not tangled around Loki, given the content and subject of your dream, but that makes sense when you realize he’s not in bed. Instead, he sits on the couch, staring into the middle distance. Perhaps he is struggling with the same kinds of dreams.
The idea of you making Loki too hot and bothered to sleep is more appealing than you’d like to admit. You hastily dismiss the thought before it can bring any more heat to your already too warm skin or add more fuel to the flickering desire that seems to have settled permanently in the cradle of your hips.
You slip out of bed and go to the window, folding your arms across your stomach as you stare out at the sleeping city.
“You were calling out in your sleep.”
More heat prickles at your skin.
“Hm,” you say, trying your best to sound casual.
“What were you dreaming of?” he asks.
He’s only asking because he already knows the answer. You know this. But the lie still slips from your lips: “I don’t remember.”
He laughs, a quiet and dangerous sound that stokes the fire in your belly. “Have you forgotten, darling, that I am the god of lies?”
You can hear him walking toward you, but you keep your back turned. Has the room always been this warm?
He waits until he is directly behind you to speak again. “Will you lie again when I ask if you were dreaming of me?” His voice is so close, full of depth and a little husky.
“You flatter yourself,” you say.
You can hear the smirk in his voice, feel the whisper of his breath on your neck. “You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?” He pauses for a moment. “But you were calling out for me.”
Your lips are dry. You want to deny it, but it feels useless. Worst case scenario, he’s still mostly right: you were dreaming of him and you can’t even really deny crying out for him because you were asleep and you don’t know for sure.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he continues. His voice drops. “Every time I close my eyes, I see you writhing in pleasure beneath me.” He pauses. “Or I see myself between your legs, worshiping you with my mouth, bringing you to ecstasy over and over before I finally take you.”
Your heart is pounding and every nerve in your body feels as though it’s connected directly to your clit. You are warm—too warm—and you can feel your pulse pounding in your throat.
“What were you dreaming of?” he continues, his voice barely a murmur.
“Nothing,” you say.
He clicks his tongue. “Try again, darling.”
You say nothing and after a moment of silence, he seems to decide that it’s time to switch strategies.
“You must be so wet,” he murmurs, his tone low and soothing.
Your stomach and your cunt clench. If he starts talking dirty to you, it’s over.
“We’re not meant to go this long like this,” he says. “We both know that. It’s been five weeks. Your poor cunt is probably aching for me, just as I ache for you.”
Your breath is coming in shaky gasps. You need him. You can feel your resolve starting to slip.
“Yield to me.” His voice is rough with wanting, like this is just as hard for him as it is for you. “I know you feel it. I feel it, too. You yearn for me, you crave my touch. Let me make you feel good, darling, let me ease that ache. Yield and I will give you everything.”
You draw in a shaking breath and slowly turn to face him. He’s looking at you with an intensity that you expect, but it takes your breath away nonetheless.
The remnants of your resistance are lost to the wave of him and the only thing that’s left in its place is a raw need like you’ve never experienced before.
You don’t know what to say, so in the end, you settle for his name. Just his name, said quietly with all the desperation and longing that has been making your life hell these past few weeks.
You get a glimpse of the fire in his eyes before he’s on you.
There’s nothing gentle about this kiss. It’s the kiss of two people who have been deprived of each other for too long, your teeth bumping against each other, tongues twisting and tangling. You end up pressed against the wall next to the window, your leg wrapped around his waist, his hand supporting your thigh. He presses his hips against you and you moan into his mouth at the feeling of his hard cock dragging against your swollen, sensitive clit. He draws back slightly to look at your face as he slowly grinds his hips against yours, his free hand moving to palm your breast over the silk of your nightgown.
You moan again, your head dropping back against the wall. The soft, slippery friction of the silk of your nightgown against your nipple and the soaked lace of your underwear rubbing against your clit is enough to make you go cross eyed, a slow tease that only fans the burning embers within you. Your body is overheated and too tense, but Loki is blessedly cool in a way that somehow both soothes and inflames.
“You’re drenched. I can already feel that,” he says, his voice thick with desire as he moves against you. “I could make you come like this.”
You whimper, rocking your hips back against him. “Please.”
He shakes his head. “Another time. Tonight I want to feel you when you come.” He drops his hand from your breast, trailing down your stomach and moving in between your legs. His fingers slip beneath your underwear, and you let out a needy whine as he strokes the slick folds of your sex. “Is this all for me?” he asks, his voice slipping into a low growl.
You barely manage a breathy affirmative.
“Sweet thing.” His thumb rolls over your clit as he slides one finger into you, and your back arches automatically, your breasts jutting out. “We’re going to have to do something about this, aren’t we?”
“Please,” you breathe.
“How can I resist such a sweet plea?” he says, sliding another finger into you and curling it just so. “Or such a wet and needy cunt?”
“Don’t stop,” you say.
“I ought to make you beg me for it after everything you put me through.” His eyes darken as his thumb presses against your clit and you moan. “But perhaps I can be generous. I can feel how much you need to come on my fingers.”
You nod, slack jawed and panting.
“You’ve been waiting for this,” he murmurs. “You’ve tried to deny yourself, but you need me, you need my touch.”
You whimper, your hips rocking.
“Say it,” he says, stroking your clit.
“I need to come,” you moan.
“A good start,” he says, his voice a stern purr. “But not quite what I asked, my love. Try again.”
A twinge of irritation manages to work its way to the forefront of your mind. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly in a state to be playing twenty questions.”
His eyes light up with a predatory gleam that heralds the arrival of something that you know will end enjoyably for you.
“Oh, darling, that attitude won’t do at all.” His fingers are immediately and conspicuously absent and you very nearly cry out in frustration. But before you can, he is sweeping you into his arms and making the journey to the bed in several long strides. He sets you gently on the bed and looms over you, green eyes flashing as his hands stroke up your thighs. You lift your hips and he pulls your underwear off, tossing it to the side.
“Let’s try that again, shall we?” His voice is a growl. “Tell me what you need.”
“I need to come.” You know it’s the wrong answer, but this particular game of cat and mouse and the predatory gleam in Loki’s eyes are making you even wetter and god, you need him.
His eyes flash with a barely concealed delight. “Try again.”
You spread your legs rather conspicuously, hiking your nightgown up to your waist. “I need to come.”
He’s looking at you intently, lips slightly parted. “You’re trying to distract me with that pretty cunt, you wicked thing.”
“Is it working?” you ask.
He lowers his head to kiss the inside of your left knee. “It would work much better if you answered me properly and told me everything you need.”
You think you have an idea of what he wants to hear, but you’re not quite ready to give up the game yet. Instead, you pull your nightgown up and over your head and toss it to the side. His eyes are dark as he looks at you, his gaze lingering on your breasts and trailing down to the apex of your spread legs. You wonder what it would take to make him lose control, to take you in the way that you both need.The thought sends another flood of heat to your aching core.
You lick your lips. “Will you make me come, Loki?”
Another wolfish grin. “Closer. But not quite. Try again.”
You let your hand slide down your stomach and between your legs and you part your sopping folds so he can see the full extent of what he’s done to you—every dripping inch. The look he’s giving you now only heightens the feeling.
“Should I make myself come?” you ask and you’re immediately rewarded with an almost feral look and a sharp smack to your ass.
“Don’t you dare,” he growls.
You put on your most innocent expression, even as his visible hunger makes you ache. “I thought you’d like seeing me touch myself.”
“Oh, there will be time for that later,” he says, his eyes still dark. “I’m particularly interested in seeing what prompted those intriguing little noises I kept hearing while you were in the shower. But every tremor of pleasure that wracks your body tonight will be from me alone. Now,” his eyes glitter and his hand replaces yours on your cunt, his long fingers spreading you open, but not touching you, his expression rapt with undisguised greed, “tell me what you need.”
Your capacity to tease and resist him was well and truly exceeded when he smacked your ass and was further obliterated by the monologue he just delivered. “I need you to make me come, Loki. I need you so bad.”
His smile is filled with dark promises and a hunger that you have every interest in sating several times over.
“Good girl,” he says.
And his fingers slide back into you as his mouth envelopes your aching clit.
You moan as your hips lift and your hands tangle in his hair. He mumbles something that sounds like “perfect” against your clit, first teasing you with the tip of his tongue and then pressing it flat against you and rubbing in slow circles. Meanwhile, his fingers have found that soft, aching spot inside of you and he presses against it in slow, firm thrusts that make you tremble.
You initially think that you’ll be quite quick to come because you’re already so wound up, but Loki seems determined to find the edge and keep you there for as long as possible—and he’s really, really good at it. He falls into a rhythm where his tongue strokes your clit once, twice, three times and withdraws; his fingers pick up the thread, stroking your walls once, twice, three times and withdrawing, only for his tongue to resume where he left off. In this way, he keeps you balanced on the edge in a perfect kind of torture. It feels so good, but it’s not quite enough to get you there just yet.
You make liberal use of his name—it’s a plea, a curse, a benediction, a moan, a sigh. Instinctively, you know that he likes this, but it’s not enough to distract him into letting you fall even a moment before he wants you to.
The ache that’s been building in your hips for the last couple weeks is growing, burning bright and warm. Your body feels electric in the best way, your nerves humming and buzzing and straining for release.
“Loki,” you moan, partly as encouragement and partly because you want him so badly.
You’re so close. Your entire body is tense and trembling; all you can think about is how badly you need to come, how much you are aching for your release.
So close.
“Loki, please,” you moan, truly desperate now. “Please let me come. Make me yours—”
You’re not sure if it’s what you said, the desperation in your voice, or pure coincidence, but in that moment, he shifts his rhythm so that his mouth and fingers are no longer alternating, but are instead moving in sync. And this is what you need to tip you over, to allow that wave to finally, finally crest and then break.
Your orgasm hits you hard, pulling a loud moan from deep within your chest and making your entire body quake. Sparklers are dancing along your veins, champagne bubbles fizzing along your muscles, stars bursting behind your eyes. You have never felt anything like this before—you are satisfied but also aching for more, falling apart and being remade over and over again.
It’s only when you’re decidedly in the blissful wave of the aftershocks that he dares to lift his head and he looks you over like you’re something wonderful. Before you can raise your hands to reach for him, he’s crawling up to you, claiming your mouth in a kiss that feels deeper than the ocean.
He slides his hand in between your legs and you whimper, shivering at the sensation of his thumb stroking your sensitive clit. But somehow, he finds that particular angle and pressure that’s just enough, but not too much. You moan and he slides a finger back into you, rolling in the same rhythm as his thumb on your clit.
“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Keep going for me, darling. I want to watch you come this time.” His voice is so firm and authoritative and it strikes sparks up and down your spine.
“Fuck,” you gasp, your hips rocking with his hand.
“You’re doing so well getting ready for me,” he purrs. He lowers his voice to a rough growl. “I can’t wait to fuck you until you’re trembling and coming all over my cock like the wicked, filthy girl that you are.”
It’s the combination of his words and his voice and his perfect hands that does it this time. A rolling, fluttering shudder fizzes through your body, building to a peak that has you letting out a guttural moan as you clench around his thrusting fingers.
“Yes, that’s it,” Loki says as he watches you through hooded eyes. “You are gorgeous when you come undone.”
He kisses you slowly, fingers moving steadily until the final shudder rolls through you.
Somehow, through all of this, he’s remained fully clothed. There’s an aspect to this that’s appealing—it makes everything feel particularly decadent and a little forbidden—but your palms are practically itching with your need to touch him. You need him inside you, but you also need him close, bare skin on bare skin.
Your hands sneak under his shirt and you suck in a sharp breath when you feel the heat of his skin underneath your palms. You tug his shirt off him and make quick work of his pants before drawing back to look at him.
He looks like art. It’s a silly thought, but there’s some truth to it—there’s an almost ethereal quality in the sharp angles of his face and the elegant symmetry of his musculature.
Your gaze drifts down to his cock. He’s long, thick, and hard, the tip flushed and slick with pre-come. An ache courses through you—something about seeing the full evidence of his arousal makes everything seem more real, makes you want him with renewed ferocity.
You want to touch him and so you do, your fingers curling around his shaft.
“Can you feel how much I need you?” he asks as you stroke him slowly. He is remarkably composed, though you catch the slight hitch in his breath and it sends a thrill through you.
“Will you show me?” you ask.
“Every day,” he says.
It’s an answer you’re not expecting. You were speaking strictly in the immediate, physical sense. This feels deeper, more meaningful. You’re not quite sure what to say, so you kiss him and he kisses you back with an intensity and thoroughness that makes your toes curl.
He rolls over you, his body covering yours. It’s almost overwhelming how good his bare skin feels against yours. You take his cock in your hand again and stroke him, slowly rubbing the tip from your clit to your entrance, coating him in your slick.
You expect him to just push forward when you guide him to your entrance and you’re almost disappointed that he doesn’t—you’ve both waited so long for this and your need for him is burning inside you like an inferno.
But instead he pauses, his eyes locked with yours.
“Will you have me?” he asks. There’s vulnerability in the question, a softness in his green eyes that you don’t expect. It feels like a loaded question, though not necessarily in a bad way.
You don’t hesitate. “Yes,” you breathe.
Something like relief flashes briefly in his eyes before he leans in and kisses you. You tilt your hips up again and this time, you feel the blunt head of his cock slowly press into your waiting warmth.
You’d read people describing first times with their soulmates and it had always sounded so hyperbolic and silly. They’d throw around words like euphoric and transcendent and all you could do was try not to roll your eyes.
But the moment Loki is fully seated inside you, you finally get it. Every overwrought, overused cliché seems to occur to you all at once—puzzle pieces falling into place and locks and keys and halves made whole and all that bullshit—and it all makes sense in a way that it hadn’t before.
Loki’s eyes are stormy above you, to the point that you think you may have angered him, but then he kisses you with a ferocity and possessiveness that steals your breath and makes you tighten around him.
“Mine,” he growls against your lips. “Mine.”
There’s a lot of emotion in that word. There’s history in that word. It’s the sort of thing that the two of you will probably need to unpack later. For now, though, you wrap your legs around him and meet his demanding, hungry kisses with your own.
“I’m yours,” you murmur against his lips. “Take me.”
You expect him to respond to that plea with a frantic pace. But instead, his first thrusts are slow, like he’s savoring it. Your body yields to him instinctively, your muscles drawing him in and then tightening further as he withdraws. You are so slick, so ready for him that it almost feels a little obscene.
“You are exquisite,” he rasps as he sinks into you, his head bowing to kiss and nip at your neck. “I have been aching for you.”
“Yes,” you breathe. “Please.”
You’re not entirely sure what you’re asking for—more of this, more of him—but he seems to know anyway. He kisses you deeply as you wrap your legs around his waist, rolling your hips up to meet his.
In one fluid motion, he rolls you over so that you are on top. He looks up at you, an irrepressible smirk curling at the corners of his lips.
“Go on,” he says, his voice low. “I want to see you take your pleasure from me. Claim your throne, my love.”
A shiver works its way up your spine. This is a man who single-handedly conquered the entire planet and he’s telling you he wants you to ride his cock until you come. It is raw and sexy and undeniably hot and the way he’s looking up at you makes you feel beautiful and powerful.
You lean forward, bracing your hands on the mattress, tilting your pelvis until you find the right angle, the one that makes your stomach tighten and your breath stutter.
A smile twitches at the corners of his mouth. “Right there?”
You let out a shaky breath and rock your hips. “Yeah.”
It takes a moment for you to find your rhythm, but you find that you want—or perhaps need—to go slow and steady. Loki watches you, his hips rocking with yours as he lets you set the pace, his hands sliding from your hips to your breasts and back again, like he can’t get enough. His gaze is intent and intense and you get the sense that he’s cataloging every movement, every gasp or sigh, furrowed brow or bitten lip.
The coil in your hips is starting to wind tighter and you know it won’t be long.
As though he knows, Loki slides a hand down your body, palm gently pressing against your lower stomach. A fantastic pressure begins to blossom in your hips and you whimper.
“You’re doing so well,” he purrs. “So tight and wet. You’re perfect.”
“Getting close,” you breathe.
“I know, I can feel you,” he says.
You’re at a point somewhere beyond words, riding that wave, chasing bliss that you can almost feel. A choked whimper falls from your lips.
“That’s it,” rasps Loki. “Be a good girl and come on my cock.” He flicks his thumb against your clit and you completely unravel.
It was good the first two times, but having him inside you as you come sends you to another plane of existence entirely. Your orgasm seems extended, the feeling of his cock against the spasming muscles of your cunt creating more even rippling pleasure. And the noise that he makes, the filthy praise that falls from his lips, the way that his fingertips dig into your hips just makes it all better.
He rolls you over onto your back just as you’re starting to feel boneless, and pulls you into a deep kiss. He thrusts into you, a little faster than the pace you had set, but still slow and steady.
“I want to feel you come again,” he breathes. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this, how good you feel?”
You shudder as his cock drags again against that spot inside you. He repeats the motion and you keen, tangling your fingers in his hair.
“That’s it,” he rasps, bringing your leg up over his hip to press even more deeply inside of you. “Come on, darling. Let me feel you.”
You wrap your arms around his neck, meeting his hungry, demanding kiss with your own. You roll your hips with his, chasing the flickers of bliss that he’s steadily stoking to an inferno once more.
“Please,” you mumble against his lips. “Need you. Please.”
He groans and increases his pace just enough to make you whimper. The desire inside of you is catching fire.
“I…fuck, I—” Your hands are gripping his shoulders, your body shaking as you approach your end.
Loki’s eyes are wild, his teeth bared. You can tell that he’s close, that he’s chasing the same incredible feeling that you are.
“I want you to come for me,” he grits out. “And the second I feel your tight cunt start to tremble around me, I’m going to come inside you.
You moan, fingernails digging into his shoulders. You are unbearably close.
“Do you want that, darling?” he says. “Do you want me to come inside you? Do you want your perfect cunt filled with my seed?”
You are almost beyond words, but not quite: “Yes. Please.”
Despite how close he is, he still gives the impression of being entirely in control. He lowers his head so that his lips graze yours and his eyes are all that you can see. “Then come for me,” he says.
Two more deadly smooth rolls of his hips and you do. A guttural, plaintive sound falls from your lips as your whole body trembles with the force of your orgasm, your cunt squeezing around the girth of his cock. He groans, mumbling something in a language you don’t recognize before he, too, starts to unravel.
His face is rapturous when he comes, his head tipping back and his mouth falling open, brow furrowing. If you weren’t so distracted with the rippling shocks of your own pleasure, you would try to commit it to memory. Instead, you simply try to enjoy the feeling of him emptying himself inside of you, the stuttering thrust of his hips, the soft groan that falls from his lips. Finally he stills, resting his head in the crook of your shoulder. You can feel his heart pounding against yours.
You feel…it’s not different, exactly, but there’s a kind of ease and connection that just feels right. The restless ache inside of you is finally quiet and you feel loose and languid and pleasantly sleepy.
Finding your soulmate isn’t necessarily the same as falling in love. Sometimes it all happens in the moment. Sometimes it’s years in between.
For you, though, you can pinpoint the exact moment that seed was planted: Loki raising his head to look at you, his hand curled against your cheek. His gaze is careful, reverent, like you are as warm and golden as the dawn just barely beginning to streak the morning sky.
#loki smut#loki x reader#loki laufeyson#loki imagine#loki x you#loki fanfic#loki x yn#loki x female reader smut#loki x female reader#loki x reader smut#loki laufeyson smut#loki fanfiction
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2 + 1 — gojo satoru
synopsis. two times megumi thinks gojo is a lost cause and one time he approves of the white haired idiot
contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo, ooc, misogyny (from the clan heads), he is so pathetic for his wife (nauseating!), slight yandere behavior, violence, in megumi’s pov, not proofread eep
notes. can you tell i've been obsessed with the apothecary diaries? >< also how long has it been since i've posted a fic? anyways... enjoy!
fushiguro megumi has always wondered how that blue eyed idiot managed to marry you. he must have resorted to underhanded tactics; or at least that's what the sea urchin suspects. though he's never voiced it, the question has bothered him since the day he first encountered the both of you.
nobara clicks her tongue. “this is borderline creepy.” her orange eyes are filled with nothing short of distaste.
“there’s more too,” megumi’s voice responded, carefully flipping the page. the delicate artifact in his hand is something that he should have not touched. perhaps he should have wrapped it with a talisman and destroyed it while he had the chance.
it was too late for that anyway, because not even a second later, gojo satoru bursts through the shoji doors of the classroom.
with eyes blown wide as if they were caught committing a crime (they were), the first years who had pulled three seats up to a singular desk stare at him. satoru's eyes widen behind his blindfold as he catches sight of the object of their focus.
there lies in the middle of the wooden desk was the physics textbook that all first year jujutsu tech students were required to read. however, this wasn’t just any plain old textbook. it was gojo satoru’s former textbook. brimmed with doodles of their beloved [name] sensei and gojo himself when they were back in highschool.
any free space that was not filled with words were taken up by drawings of you inside of hearts and sometimes a depiction of a chibi version of the two of you.
a true testament to gojo satoru’s pining and devotion to you.
“sensei, we can explain–” yuji attempts to explain himself but gojo holds up a hand to silence the boy.
unlike you, megumi finds it a lot more challenging to read the white haired sorcerer’s expression with the blindfold on. he wonders if his punishment will be a painful beating disguised as a sparring session (megumi will run to you, who will scare gojo into backing down). you have that effect on him.
it seems like the heavens have answered megumi’s prayers because gojo satoru doesn’t seem to harbor any anger at his shocking revelation.
“i can’t believe you guys found this old thing.” satoru dismisses his students’ personal space by leaning closely to observe the pages. the black haired boy makes a noise of disapproval, but was quickly cut off by his benefactor. “megumi, be grateful that i’m in a good mood today.” he doesn’t elaborate the ominous message, rather choosing to hum happily as he studies his own drawings.
megumi is smart enough to keep his mouth shut.
“i never took you to be the pathetic type,” kugisaki continues to flip through the pages of the textbook. yuji nods furiously, as if to agree to her observation.
“you seriously never noticed?” megumi mutters under his breath.
gojo places a strong hand on megumi’s back, a languid smile on his face, “it was only natural, considering the lengths i had to go through to win her over.” he ignores the way megumi gasps for air.
“seriously?” itadori asks in disbelief.
“seriously.” gojo confirms wholeheartedly.
megumi shudders, recollecting memories of times before gojo tied you down for good.
2009
“sorry i’m late!” gojo bursts through the dingy apartment door with a convenience store bag in his arm. he was breathing heavily, an indication that he had run to the apartment. an uninterested seven year old megumi doesn’t bother leaving his place on the couch to greet his benefactor.
“they’re in the kitchen,” he says in his monotone voice, eyes never leaving the book that you had just gifted him.
“they?” gojo walks up to megumi to ruffle his hair aggressively. he receives a hiss in return.
“tsumiki and [name]?” the black haired kid says it like it was obvious. his sentence is accompanied with an eyeroll.
at the mention of your name, gojo immediately perks up. megumi imagines that if he were a cat, his ears would be swiveling and his nose twitching, attuned to pick up any trace of your presence. he had just learned that from the nonfiction book in his lap.
“[name]?! here? now?” gojo’s eyebrows are raised all the way to his forehead. the white haired sorcerer immediately started fixing his uniform and hair. megumi thinks it was comical. he was a lost cause.
the snarky look on his face is quickly wiped off when he sees gojo leaning down, mouth wide open.
“oi brat, check my breath,” gojo opens his mouth wide for megumi to check. the black haired kid shrivels up into the couch the further gojo leans down. megumi considers summoning his newly discovered jujutsu technique, hoping to avoid his fate.
“—toru? what are you doing?” your voice, like a divine intervention, stops gojo from sending megumi to the depths of despair. a sigh of relief escapes his lips.
now it was his turn to watch gojo squirm. the older male’s face contorts to an awkward smile and all of a sudden gojo is reduced to nothing but a mess.
“don’t worry about it darling!” gojo slowly turns around to face you. “agh—?!”
megumi has to peek around satoru’s big frame to see what elicited such a response from the man.
he’s met with a wave of underwhelming familiarity. there you stand, clad in a frilly apron with a wooden spoon in hand, the essence of domesticity incarnate. the soft glow of the warm kitchen lights dances around you, casting a warm aura that seems to envelop the room.
“welcome home, satoru.” you give him your signature closed eye smile. “i mean, you probably don’t consider it your home but—“
you’re cut off by satoru banging his head on the nearest wall repeatedly. he’s muttering something under his breath that you don’t hear.
to his dismay, megumi's keen ears catch every syllable. satoru's voice, though hushed, carries a hint of longing, "what an angel," he whispers, his words laced with adoration. "just marry me already."
unamused, he watches while you try to desperately pry gojo from his strange outburst.
a lost cause indeed.
2009
in that very year, megumi learns that gojo’s efforts to win your affection had yielded no progress. it had become increasingly apparent that his frequent visits to megumi and tsumiki's humble home were motivated to immerse himself in the semblance of domesticity that your presence offered. megumi almost pitied the man, if it wasn’t for the fact that he knew you deserve someone more sensible.
me
[name]
[nameeeee]
i’m dying.
and it’s your fault t^t
[name] ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡
excuse me?
me
i’ll have you know that i worked the hardest that i have ever worked to finish all of my paperwork so i could see you tonight… only to find out from megumi that you’re on a date?!!?
i feel like my chest is caving in.
i’m going to throw up.
[name] ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡
oh this is what you’re interrupting my date for?
me
i’m going to be sick.
please tell me, is he hotter than me? wealthier? funnier?
megumi quickly looks away from gojo’s phone screen when the white haired male slams it shut and mutters under his breath a couple of curses. he’s pretty sure half of them were death threats. honestly, couldn't you have attracted someone with more dignity?
“change of plans,” gojo claps his hands together. “movie night’s off.”
“what?” megumi protests, confusion etched in his features.
“our beloved [name] is getting swept off of her feet. you wouldn’t want that to happen, right?” gojo continues, his tone light but his gaze sharp as it bores into megumi's soul. something unpleasant coils in the pit of his stomach.
megumi feels a chill run down his spine, his mind racing with the implications of gojo's words. if you choose to date this new guy, he realizes, you won't need him or gojo anymore. and that thought terrifies him. it pains megumi to feed into gojo's delusions.
but he can’t let this unnamed suitor steal you away.
a wolfish grin makes its way to gojo’s mouth when he realizes that he’s won.
“what's the plan?”
2016
it was only years later that megumi had seen the true monster that lurks inside of gojo satoru.
on a hot summer evening, amidst a gathering of esteemed clan heads, he and satoru found themselves in a traditional chamber. while the finer details of the meeting escape his memory, the image of the room that altered his perception of gojo satoru is etched in his mind indefinitely. the wooden walls, adorned with subtle yet elegant designs, speak volumes about the room’s significance as a venue for the most influential members of jujutsu society.
throughout the meeting, he finds himself driving in and out of focus, content to let his mentor represent the gojo clan. however, his attention is abruptly seized by a particular remark that cuts through the haze of his thoughts.
“how’s that whore of yours, gojo?” a clan head jeered, clearly drunk on the sake that was constantly refilled by the servant on the side. his flushed complexion is scarcely discernible thanks to the dim glow emanating from the few lanterns scattered around the room.
there was only one person he could have been referring to: you. underneath the wooden table, his fingers tightened painfully into fists. pretentious bastards, megumi thinks.
another geezer rubbed his beard thoughtfully, “she has a nice body. perfect to be a concubine, but i would marry a more submissive woman.”
megumi's gaze stealthily darts towards gojo, seated beside him.
he’s startled to find the white-haired man wears a wide grin that belies a hidden truth. unseen by the elders before them, lurking beneath gojo's outward expression, is a manic gleam in his eyes—a revelation that sends a shiver down megumi's spine.
“i’d hold my tongue if i were you.” gojo satoru’s voice was dripping with venom. he sounded downright murderous.
"i'm right, am i not? we can share her if you'd like- name the price." the drunkard continues loudly.
megumi senses an instinctive wave of primal dread washing over him, compelling him with an urgent, almost instinctual need to flee or die.
before he can move a muscle, the flames that surround the room flicker before extinguishing in succession by an unknown force. the metallic stench of blood fills the air and all he can hear is the sound of flesh mutilating and bones crushing accompanied by the painful shouts of the men that once sat in front of him. he doesn’t have to see it with his own eyes to be able to sense gojo’s strong curse residue that suffocates the room.
“stand up megumi. we’re leaving.” his voice carries a feral edge, leaving no room for objection.
on their way out of the compound, the two don’t utter a word at what had just transpired.
megumi's gaze remains fixed on the ground beneath his feet, the images of the recent events swirling in his mind, leaving him unsettled and shaken. with each step, he grapples with the unsettling realization that beneath gojo satoru's charismatic facade lies a darker, more sinister nature.
the strongest sorcerer of today, riled up by the mere mention of your name.
megumi supposes he doesn’t feel much remorse for those clan heads anyway. he was never the type to mourn over people he didn’t know dying. especially not people who he knew would live on to do evil. it doesn’t help that they were blatantly disrespecting you. perhaps he could sympathize with the monster inside of gojo.
oblivious to the turmoil that stirs inside of megumi, gojo starts to smile.
“i know what you’re going to say,” gojo hums happily. “gojo sensei, you’re so cool! i approve of you marrying my beloved [name]! kyaa~’” he makes a pathetic attempt to imitate megumi.
the black haired boy grunts. he was going to say something along the lines of his approval for his benefactor, but all desires of flattering the white haired sorcerer disappeared.
gojo watches the black haired boy intently before tutting.
“not that it matters.” megumi is startled to hear how his voice dropped an octave. “i was always going to marry [name] and i’ll be damned to let anyone stop me.”
2018 – present day
after satiating his students with tales from his pining days, your husband comes home often clingier than normal (is that even possible?). the moment satoru enters your home, his arms envelop you, caging you in his hold.
you can't help but giggle as his hair brushes against the side of your neck, his embrace pulling you in close, as if he's inhaling your presence. his muscles flex when you attempt to slip away, keeping you in his tight embrace.
“sato– what is going on?!”
“is it a crime to show my wife some love?” he kisses your neck. when his flurry of kisses stop, he resorts to absorbing all of your features with those cerulean eyes of his.
you don’t bother pushing him away again, choosing to thread your fingers through his soft hair. even after all these years, you will never not feel the effect of satoru’s eyes on you.
“i was telling my first years about you today,” he says softly.
you smile, “is that so?”
he pushes his nose into your neck again, nodding.
“you’re so good to them,” you whisper. despite the initial shock behind satoru choosing to pursue education, you’re extremely proud of how far he’s come.
“mhm,” satoru inhales. “i’d be good to our little ones too.” one of his hands sneak to your stomach.
you delicately guide his face away from your form, your fingers tenderly urging him to meet your gaze. "is there something you want to tell me?" you inquire softly, your eyes reflecting the warmth of your affection.
satoru's smirk deepens, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "perhaps," he murmurs, his touch light as he guides you towards the bedroom. without hesitation, you yield to his lead, eager at his sudden intimate gesture.
from outside your home, three first year students stand, waiting for their sensei’s cue to enter.
“do you think he’s forgotten about us?” yuji furrows his eyebrows, hands full of grocery bags that were going to be prepared for dinner.
extra notes. had the idea of gojo and megumi crashing your date in my drafts for so long. maybe ill elaborate on it if the ppl want to see :,)
#kt.writes.·:*¨༺#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#gojo fluff#gojo satoru x you#gojou satoru x reader#jjk fluff#gojo satoru x y/n#gojou satoru x you#jujutsu kaisen fluff#gojou x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader
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can’t you see ☆ mv1
genre: redbull!driver, enemies to lovers, smut, lando and danny playing cupid lol, protective!max (although he won’t admit it), mean!max, sub!max, dom!reader
word count: 3.2k
In between your mutual dislike with your teammate, Lando and Daniel try their best to make you and Max uncover some hidden feelings.
nsfw warning under the cut!
18+...penetrative sex, riding, sucking on fingers
req!...quick one, but ahh first maxie drabble. eekk :)
“What a fucking asshole.”
Daniel’s eyes bulge out as he hands you a cup of coffee. It had been an extremely long day. Perhaps not the best idea to keep it going, but it seemed like the FIA didn’t give a shit about that. You were past being upset. You were seething.
“Uh…Yeah. I mean I get it. I’m tired, too. This red flag came at the worst time-”
Briskly, you take the cup from him, cutting him off. “It’s not the red flag, it’s Max.” Ever since you joined Formula 1 as the first female to drive for Red Bull, you had felt welcomed by everyone. Everyone but your actual teammate. You had thought maybe it was because he had small balls and couldn’t handle the fact that you were driving alongside him, but when you confronted him about it, he only growled.
As if you would ever cross my fucking mind.
Squinting, you point accusingly at the Australian. “You ought to stop being his friend.” He loudly laughs as he throws his head back.
“You say that every time.”
Making a face, you shoot back. “And you never choose!”
“You’re both my friends. No one is winning custody.”
“You’re older than both of us combined.”
“Hey!”
Hey, a low voice replies. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. A shiver runs down your spine. Max leans up against the nearest wall as he ignores you and keeps his eyes on his friend. You wave your hand up in front of him a couple of times for good measure before your mouth drops open when he acts as if you were Casper the Friendly Ghost.
“We were just talking abou- Ouch!” Daniel shrieks in pain when you pinch him. Faking a smile, you turn to the Dutchman. We were actually in the middle of something here. Nothing. He just keeps looking past you. Running a hand through his hair, he starts talking about how this all ‘ruined my flow’ and how he was going to have to ‘try to fix the FIA’s mistakes’. You have to laugh.
“Is something funny to you?”
You look around the room as you theatrically shudder. Sipping on the hot beverage, you hum and close your eyes. Max clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he crosses his arms in frustration. Cold weather, Danny. Do you think there’s a place nearby that sells homemade chicken soup?
“What the fuck is your problem?”
“If we find one, then maybe we can invite Lando and-” Suddenly, he reaches out for your cup and hot drops hit your hand. You hiss in pain. “What’s your problem, dickhead?”
Now, a normal reaction would be to be a decent human being and apologize. Offer up their own cup of coffee, perhaps. Not Max. Throwing it into the nearest trash bin, he turns to you. And he actually has the audacity to look upset.
“Why didn’t you let me overtake you? I don’t know if you don’t know this because you’re new or something like that, but here, when we are instructed to do something - we do it.”
Narrowing your eyes, you step closer. “So what? I don’t let you by one time and suddenly I’m the bad guy? Let me remind you that that’s all I’ve done for you this season.”
“Maybe when you’re someone’s number one driver then you won’t have to do shit like this, but until then,” he angles himself lower to you, “...It kinda looks like you have to.”
“Oh. No.” Daniel winces as he sips quietly on his hot drink. He can physically see your wheels turning as you glare back at the Dutchman. Your cheeks have turned light pink as you refrain yourself from yelling in front of all the Alpha Tauri engineers. Max scrunches his nose.
“Cute.”
You’re about to explode and let all hell loose, but just then, the red flag is over. Huffing, you grab your helmet as you walk away without sparing a single goodbye. Daniel frowns. “You need to stop treating her like that.” Max scoffs. Treating her how? The Australian inches closer as he lays a large hand on his friend's shoulder. “Like you don’t care.”
As soon as the race picks back up, you’re in the zone. You have to work twice as hard to overtake anyone in your way, considering most drivers were on new tires, but eventually you worked your way through. Drops of rain hit your visor as you slow down in sector 2.
“Should I be worried about the rain?”
“Nothing to be worried about, just keep it up.”
You nod, even though Christian can’t see you. As you get closer, you can see Max’s rear wing. He’s fast - zooming, almost - but that only made you want it even more. Defend. I repeat, defend for a 1-2 finish. “Yeah. No.” Entering the DRS zone, you press down on the throttle as you try all tactics to catch up with the 3x World Champion. Fat drops of water hit the Red Bull as you squint in order to not get lost with the commotion. What are you doing? Defend. “I am defending.” You press harder. “Except I’m defending my spot. Not his.”
It’s almost as if he knows what you’re about to do. Quickly, he scans his sideview mirror as he curses when he sees that you weren’t slowing down. It looks like the two Red Bulls are going head-to-head! Probably not the best idea at the moment considering the tough weather, Crofty announces. Passing Max by, you can’t help but cheer as you try to imagine his reaction.
“Not what we were picturing, but very well executed. He will be defending now.”
It wasn’t planned to get stung by a boiling hot coffee, of course it wasn’t, despite the bickering between you two. It wasn’t planned to take time to scratch your burnt hand. And it most definitely was not planned to crash.
Plunging into the wall, you groan, curses flowing past your lips. Are you okay? “Yes. I’m okay.” Lifting your visor, you shyly wave at the grandstands. Would you mind going over to check on Max? He’s currently not responding. Your heart stops. Jumping off your seat, you climb out of your car as you turn and sure enough, Max’s Red Bull is ruined.
“Are you alright?”
Throwing a thumbs up, he lifts himself out of his car to wave at the fans. He turns to you, dark blue helmet still over his head. “What the fuck was that all about?” You narrow your eyes.
“What do you mean? I got an itch.” And though he wears his helmet, you can’t help but notice the crinkles by his eyes. Your stomach flips. It's because of the crash. That’s all it is. You clear your throat. “What happened to you? You were driving well.” Professionally, he slides his gloves off as he waves over at the safety car.
“I had to check on you one way or another, right?”
Dumbfounded, you're faced with his back as he walks away.
-
“He’s into you, can’t you see it!”
“No. Jesus, don’t even say that.” Lando raises his brows as he throws his legs on top of your bed. Daniel hums from underneath the covers. He’s right, though. Pulling the sheets off, you scowl. “Don’t give me reasons to kick you both out.” Throwing yourself onto the mattress, you smile widely. “Soooo, what’s new?”
It’s all you three are ever good for. Pure gossip. Chewing hard on a piece of pizza, you gag. Daniel cackles as he reaches for the last slice. Hey! What if I wanted that? He cocks his head. Fine, you mumble.
“All I wanted was a warm soup.”
A gentle knock echoes through the room as you all turn to face it. Go and open it, Daniel hisses. Wha- No! You go open it, Lando whispers back. Bunch of babies, you murmur as you untangle yourself from your blanket. Swinging the door open, you freeze. Standing tall is Max with a paper bag at hand.
“Hey.”
Peeking out into the hallway, you stare back confused. “Hey?”
Almost timidly, he kicks his feet up against the wall with a small smile. He extends his arm out, signaling for you to take the mysterious bag. I don’t want any problems, you choke out, feeling skeptical. His blue eyes grow wide.
“Oh. No, don’t worry!” He opens the bag and takes out a small container. Leaning forward, you feel blood rising up to your cheeks. “It’s just soup.”
After an awkward exchange, he leaves. Inhaling the delicious scent, you let out a dreamy sigh.
“He so likes her.”
-
“We might have been wrong.”
Lando tilts his head, curly strands bouncing at the motion. Daniel hurriedly takes a seat next to the Brit as he smacks his large hands on the table. “What do you mean, mate?”
Daniel scans the room quickly before shaking his head. “I mean, that I just heard them two. They were going at it.” Lando blushes as he lets out an awkward laugh. I don’t even want to know. The Australian bites back a smile as he continues. “Not like that. Yet. What I mean is that they’re back to square one. He’s being a complete dick.”
“Alright. Looks like we have to knock some sense into him.”
-
Go, Daniel mouths once Max enters the debrief room, eyes entertained on his phone screen. Pushing past the Dutch, Charles jogs over to where you sit next to George. “Hey!” Greeting him back with a warm smile, you pat to the open seat. “I was wondering if you wanted to grab a bite after this. Maybe some chicken soup?” You beam.
“I love a good soup!”
Rapidly, Max’s ears perk up as he hears your conversation with the Monegasque. He was well over the rivalry, but with this? He would not second guess bringing it back. He clenches his jaw as he notices you nodding along with Charles. Strolling over to the small group, he shoots a bitter grin.
“Did you see Christian’s message about our last minute meeting?”
“Hello to you, too.” Checking your phone, you look back confused with a pout. “No. I haven't received anything.”
“Yeah, well, there’s one-”
“No, there's not.” Flickering your eyes behind your teammate, you’re even more lost. With hands on his hips, Christian taps his shoe as his eyes flicker between his two Red Bull drivers. “Don’t mind him, sweetheart. There’s no meeting.” He sends a small wink at Charles before walking off to the rest of the team principles. Max slumps.
“Ha. Guess it got canceled or something like that…”
Rushing over Lando and Daniel, Charles hunches over as he starts blabbering. “Did it work? Please tell me it worked - God - I think I almost shit myself. Tell me it fucking wo-”
The Brit points discreetly to where Max paces the room, orbs trained on you like a guard dog.
“It’s definitely working.”
He smacks a one hundred dollar bill onto a large hand.
“And thank you for the help, too, Mr. Horner.”
-
Despite the attempts to get you and Max together, nothing seemed to work. The blue eyed boy would appear to start registering his feelings, and at the last minute, would completely chicken out. It would be an outright lie to say that this didn’t entertain the Alpha Tauri and McLaren boys, but they also knew that they had to continue their fairy godparent duties.
“Watch it!”
Crashing onto the couch inside of the Red Bull Hospitality, Max’s face bounces against it. He groans in pain before throwing a harsh stare at his friends. Lando stiffles a giggle as Daniel raises his arms up in defense. Getting seated, the Dutch looks back with a sour expression.
“What’s this hostile situation about?”
Lando panics as he turns to his mate. The Aussie licks his lips, patting his lap. “Look, we’ve noticed a few things-” What things? He huffs. “Maybe if you would just let me finish-” That’s what she said! He glares at Lando who slaps a hand over his mouth, tears from unreleased laughter painting his blue eyes. “As I was saying…We’ve noticed your behavior towards a special little someone…”
“Towards Heidi? Shit. I didn’t think it’d be that noticeable.”
Lando clicks his fingers rapidly before pointing at the Red Bull driver. “He’s trying to not talk about it because he knows where this is going!” No, I’m not, Max shrieks as his voice cracks. Blushing, he pushes his hat lower to his face.
“You like her!”
“You know I like Heidi! She’s good for you-”
“You know that’s not who we’re talking about.”
It’s silent for a while. Standing up, Daniel goes to sit next to the 26 year old. Running a hand over his face, Max’s sighs as he looks up. “I’m not…used to feeling this way, okay?”
“That’s totally fine, but that doesn’t give you the right to treat her like a piece of gum stuck at the bottom of your shoe. She’s amazing. Could have anyone - and I mean anyone - but she likes you. I don’t know why or how, but she likes you.” Daniel scoots away when Max narrows his eyes.
“She doesn’t like me.”
Jumping over the coffee table, Lando plops down. “Yes! She does. Ask me how I know.” A bored expression slashes Max’s face as he asks anyway. How, Lando? How do you know? “Because she’s always fighting with you.”
Daniel clicks his tongue as he slowly squints his brown eyes. “I don’t think you’re making the point you think you’re making, mate.” The Brit waves him off.
“I’m dead serious. When she gets upset, she always walks away because she claims to not want to waste her time on stupid arguments. But with you,” he pushes his index finger against the Red Bull polo, “With you she never - ever - walks away. Sure, you’re both at each others throats, but that only means one thing.” He leans against the sofa as he takes a sip of the open energy drink.
“She doesn’t mind wasting time on you.”
-
After some more convincing, the duo had managed to raise the 26 year olds confidence. They could be wrong. Embarrassingly wrong, but how would he ever know if he never tried? Taking in a deep breath, he finds himself knocking on your door.
“More soup?”
Sheepishly, he shakes his head. His heart skips a beat as he notices how laid back you seem. How relaxed you were. He was going to ruin all that. He was going to say something that would change everything and things might never be the sa-
“Wanna come in?”
Handing him a plate of cut up watermelon, you take a seat in front of him, legs tucked beneath your butt. What are you doing out so late at night, Mr. Max Verstappen? He sets the plate down as he forces himself to mold into his chair.
“I’ve never hated you.”
You blink. Clearing his throat, he looks down to his lap as he fiddles his fingers. “I know I’ve been such a bad teammate - I know - but I promise that it never had to do with you.”
“Okay. So…then what did it have to do with?”
He lets out a croaky laugh as he shuts his eyes. “That’s the tough part…” Opening his blue eyes, he finds you staring back, waiting for an answer. “I feel the opposite of hate…towards you.” He hates the way your face doesn’t change and you remain still. He hates when you shrink back and chew on your lip.
But he could never find himself hating the moment you climb onto his lap.
“T-that’s not what I came here for-”
“I know.” You slide your hands against his stubble. “Your confession was…adorable. Had trouble saying those words out loud, right? Because you,” you strum your finger against his chest, “...You don’t have feelings. You don’t have a heart.”
Now he’s frowning as he tries to unravel your words. A giggle bubbles up your throat, eyes crinkling shut. His breath hitches. “I feel things…” Your heart twirls with the way his voice sounds. Sure you do, Maxie-
Grabbing your face with his left hand, he kisses you. It’s hot, feverish, and impatient.
It’s him.
Whimpering, you grind against him as he groans underneath you. Forcing himself to pull away from your warm lips, he cocks his head to the side. “Was that enough proof?”
“I might need more.”
It’s such a moment of pure adrenaline, that you can’t even pinpoint the moment your hatred towards him had turned into lust. All you know is that it felt so good to be riding him. Squeezing your hips, he lifts you up as he lets out a strained moan. The sound itself makes you drip even more.
You had always loved his voice. How croaky it was. But you never imagined that it would turn your entire world upside down to hear him moaning your name like a prayer. Oh, fuck. Holy shit. Pushing his hands down, he opens his eyes as he looks back, weak and concerned. He worries you might have suddenly regretted all of this. That you would walk away and never want to talk to him ever again. But he’s already kissed you. He’s already been inside of you.
He would beg you to stay in order to make you keep it that way.
“B-baby.” He whimpers with the way you dig yourself against him before circling your hips. Slow. “It’s okay if you want to stop-” You slide his fingers into your mouth. He swears he could finish with such a pretty sight.
“I don’t want to. I just want you to say sorry for everything you’ve ever done to me.”
“I already said I never meant any of it! You’re absolutely everything to me.”
Your core grows tighter with his affirmations. Holding onto his broad shoulders, you continue your sinister rhythm. “Maybe. But I still want one.”
“I’m so-”
Rubbing your bare tits against his chest, he shudders as he harshly pinches your thigh. Try again. “I said I’m so-” Pulling all the way out, you slide back down onto his cock. “Oh - don’t fucking do that.”
“Try again.”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m so fucking sorry.”
A satisfied smile slides onto your plump lips as you nod before kissing him and riding him the way you know he deserves. With one last hop, you both finish as he moans into your neck. Your fingers push his sweaty, blondish strands away before pressing your lips against his cheek. He smiles weakly.
“I like you, too.” You look down before returning your attention. “But I can’t be with you.”
“Wh-”
“Max. Let’s be realistic here. I’m a girl in Formula 1. You don’t know how hard I’ve worked to get here. I’ve had to do twice the work simply because I’m not a man.” You roll your eyes. “People are going to hate me. Call me names - God, I can already hear them.”
He never thought his heart could actually hurt for someone. You were really messing him up. He gingerly rubs small circles against your cheek.
“I’ll ruin whoever says anything bad about you, but please give this a chance. I’ve never wanted someone as bad as I do you. Please.”
And yes, there will be nasty comments. Hateful interpretations about your relationship. But that never really mattered as long as you had him.
#f1#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#max verstappen drabble#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen smut#charles leclerc#charles leclerc imagines#max verstappen angst#max verstappen x reader#charles leclerc smut#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc drabble#carlos sainz imagines#carlos sainz smut#carlos sainz imagine#max verstappen#lando norris smut#lando norris#daniel ricciardo#daniel ricciardo smut#f1 x female reader#max verstappen x you#max verstappen fluff#charles leclerc fluff#carlos sainz fluff#lando norris fluff#daniel ricciardo fluff#max verstappen fanfic#charles leclerc fanfic
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