#every time i moved him off the table he jumped back on it was an endless cycle
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dime, ¿esto es lo que tú quería'?
charles leclerc and oscar piastri x fem!reader
how about a reward for monaco's p1 and p2?
warnings/notes: smut, threesome, a blowjob, slight degradation, dirty talk, unprotected sex (wrap it up, people!!!), cumshot, creampie, gagging, light choking
a/n: very ambitious and would not set me free until i wrote it...so please enjoy <3
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You really had no idea how you ended up here.
Arthur is a good friend of yours, having met him when you first came to work for Ferrari under the communication department, mostly being assigned to handle the Academy and development drivers' communication needs. You and Arthur got on well, and eventually, you were hanging out with him and his other friends on the weekends.
The two of you were strictly friendly, something you've had to clear out multiple times to work superiors, nosy colleagues, insistent reporters, you name it.
Arthur isn't your type, point blank, period.
His older brother was a different topic altogether.
Charles was sensitive, artistic, a prince charming in all aspects. Being in close proximity to Arthur meant you spent some time with Charles, too, but those were few and far between and every time you were within five feet of Charles, you were reduced to a tongue-tied mess.
Regardless, Arthur insisted you come along to the celebrations after Charles' most recent win in Monaco.
"Charles knows who you are and you're my friend. He won't mind," Arthur pleaded earlier that day as you were packing up after the podium celebrations.
"What if you go running off and I'm left alone?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I won't go running off," Arthur promised. "I'll be with you the whole night. I'll even help you look for a guy you can go home with!"
And yet you're here in the present, sitting on a couch in the VIP section, alone.
Well, not really. You're surrounded by people but none of them are talking to you. Arthur had gone to get more drinks half an hour ago and you know by now that he probably was sidetracked by other friends or something to that effect.
You have half a mind to call it a night, your hand already reaching for your purse, when you hear a voice call out.
"________! You're here!"
You look up and your heart seems to jump right into your throat.
Charles is beaming down at you, a flag of Monaco draped around his shoulders, his previously styled hair now sticking up in all directions.
You caught a glimpse of Charles earlier when you arrived with Arthur, but the race winner was too busy doing shots for you to have properly said hi.
But he's here now. And he's sliding into the space beside you.
"Where's Arthur?" Charles asks, reaching for an unopened Heineken on the table in front of you.
"I have no idea," you half-yell, leaning closer so Charles could hear. You feel goosebumps erupt on your skin when Charles lays a tentative hand on your back.
"You can spend time with me, then," Charles grins, moving his arm further so it fully wraps around your shoulders.
A nervous laugh escapes you but your instinct is to lean even further into Charles' touch. He's still smiling at you, though clearly inebriated with the way his eyes seem out of focus.
"Ah, Oscar!"
You turn your head to see the other third of the podium finishers, Osar Piastri himself.
"Hey!" he calls over the din of the music. "I can't find anyone! I think they just abandoned me," Oscar adds, laughing.
He takes the seat on your left, effectively sandwiching you between him and Charles. You smile politely at Oscar, reaching your hand out.
"Hi, I'm ______," you say, smiling wider as Oscar takes your hand in his and squeezes.
"I'm Oscar," he says then pauses, realizing that you probably already knew who he was if you were any friend of Charles'. He laughs, practically giggles, hiding his face in his hand.
"Sorry, I see you around the paddock sometimes, so I probably didn't need to do that," Oscar explains, cheeks turning pink, or at least you think they do, given that the lighting in this club is atrocious.
Oscar is still holding your hand and you can tell that he's tipsy too by the way he's smiling, eyes hooded and sleepy-looking.
"________ is part of communications in Ferrari," Charles explains, rubbing his thumb over the exposed skin of your shoulder. You turn to look at Charles, and the way he gazes back at you, a half smile on his lips, breath hot on your cheek, has your heart pounding incessantly against your chest.
"She's very efficient," Charles praises with a chuckle. "I like seeing her around when she works."
You make a move to swat at Charles' thigh as if to tell him off. "Stop it, I'm not at enough races for you to see me that often."
You're laughing, mostly in disbelief at the words that just came out of Charles' mouth. He likes seeing you around?
Charles shrugs. "But when you are, I notice."
You feel your neck heat up and even more so when Charles maneuvers you closer, seemingly protective. If you moved any more, you'd be on Charles' lap.
Oscar eyes the two of you and you'd give anything to read the thoughts in his head right now. The younger man locks eyes with you and smiles, sweetly at first, but then his pupils glance down briefly at your chest, barely covered by the tube top you decided to don for the evening.
The sweetness quickly melts away as Oscar bites his lip.
"You're close, then?" Oscar asks casually, scooting closer to you and Charles.
"Arthur and her are good friends," Charles points out.
"So I guess by default, _______ and I are good friends, too."
You laugh and Oscar is grinning once more at you, and god does he look handsome under these lights. You can tell that he wants to come even closer, his fingers tapping nervously on his knee. Some slow song is playing over the speakers, bass loaded and making the entire place vibrate.
You reach out, laying a hand on Oscar's thigh, squeezing just enough to get the point across.
Oscar looks over at Charles and you follow his line of sight, seeing some sort of unspoken agreement cross the two drivers.
Charles dips his head, moving even closer to you. He breathes out right next to your ear and you shiver.
"Ma chèrie," he begins. "I think we need to take this somewhere else."
You turn to look at Charles, blood roaring in your ears. "What?"
Charles looks straight into your eyes as if searching for something. He rubs a soothing hand down your back, letting it settle on your waist.
"You want to, no?" Charles asks, momentarily glancing up at Oscar. "With me and him?"
You feel a rush of excitement course through you. Surely, this isn't happening. The idea of Charles bringing you home crossed your mind briefly the moment he touched you earlier, but that's as far as you allowed yourself to imagine. But the remnants of alcohol in your system and the intoxicating atmosphere of the club must have gotten to you with the way you so brazenly made a move on Oscar.
And now you reap what you sow.
"We can hang out at my place," Oscar throws out nonchalantly as if he was simply inviting you and Charles to more drinks at his apartment.
"I just moved in and it could use a little...housewarming," Oscar adds with a pointed look.
Charles bursts out laughing, leaning down to press a kiss to your shoulder before nuzzling into the side of your neck. You glance around, hyperaware that all eyes have been on Charles the whole night, and for sure it isn't any different now.
"Andiamo," Charles whispers. "We'll make it good."
Let's go. Your months of Italian as a prerequisite to working in Ferrari barely register with you now.
Oscar slips his own hand over your thigh, his large palm covering an expanse of your skin.
"You'll love the view from my balcony," Oscar offers, tilting his head towards you. He smiles, innocent and sweet once more, simultaneously squeezing at the flesh of your thigh.
You bite your lip, suppressing whatever sounds that threatened to come out.
-
You thought you'd never make it out of the car ride to Oscar's place.
Oscar had brought his own ride and being much, much more sober than both you and Charles, he took the initiative to drive. You and Charles piled into the backseat, giggling.
"Not fair, you guys," Oscar teased from the front, eyeing you through the rearview mirror. Charles merely snickers, hands sneaking up over your chest as you settle on his lap.
"Eyes on the road, Oscar," Charles ordered, yanking your top down, exposing yourself fully to Oscar. You gasped, the cold air of the air-conditioning lending to the stiffening of your nipples. Charles began to toy with them, pinching and rolling them between his fingers, reducing you to a speechless mess. You noticed just how hard Oscar was gripping the steering wheel, tight enough that his knuckles were drained of color.
You barely had time to cover yourself back up once you got to Oscar's place, with Charles tugging you out of the car as soon as Oscar killed the ignition. The younger of the two comes around to your side of the car as you and Charles stumble out. Oscar takes your hand in his and leans down briefly to kiss you, tongue darting out to lick at the seam of your lips.
Oscar pulls away, sending Charles a look. "I was on the podium, too, mate."
"Ah, sorry Oscar," Charles says lightheartedly. "Sharing isn't really my strong suit. But for her, I will try."
Charles lands a smack on your ass, the sound loud enough to make you flinch. You involuntarily whine at the sting, tripping over your feet a bit. Oscar steadies you, laughing along with Charles.
"We're gonna have so much fun with you, chèrie," Charles teases, kissing your cheek.
The elevator ride is even worse. Or better. You can't decide.
It's just the three of you, and you're backed up into the corner, Charles being the handsier of the two, creeping both hands up your sides, his knee pushing between your legs.
"Ch-Charles, not here," you manage to warn. He increases the pressure against your core, grinning as he watches you shiver.
Oscar watches from the side, arms crossed, leaning casually against the elevator wall. You meet his gaze and he winks, smiling languidly just as Charles kisses down the side of your neck.
Soon enough, the elevator doors open and you push Charles away, startled to see a pair of middle-aged women waiting on the other side. You hurry past them out into the hallway, following Oscar who saunters down towards the end with an easy step.
"Right here," Oscar declares, unlocking a door at the very end. Charles guides you inside just as Oscar turns the light on.
The living room is spacious, with a single couch and coffee table occupying it. A deep blue rug breaks the cream flooring. Past the receiving area is the dining and kitchen, set against floor-to-ceiling windows, a staple of Monegasque apartments, as you've come to figure out. A hallway veers to the right.
"You weren't kidding about the view," you comment, taking in the night sky and the sprawling harbor.
Oscar turns back to you, and only now do you get a good look at him. The first three buttons of his shirt undone, his hair the right kind of messy, and his eyes, darker than what you're used to.
"The view in here is just as good," Oscar replies, eyes raking over your body. He reaches out, a hand resting on your waist.
"May I?" Charles whispers from behind you, tugging down the zip of your skirt. He gets it open and you let it fall to your feet, kicking it off to the side.
"So pretty," Charles adds, kissing along your upper back. Oscar hikes your top up and you let him pull it over your head, leaving you bare, save for your panties.
"I could see your tits through your shirt the whole night," Oscar comments, pointer fingers ghosting over your nipples. "Imagined what they might look like."
You gasp, leaning further back into Charles. You had no idea Oscar had that kind of mouth on him.
It turned you on to no end.
"Better than what you imagined?" You breathe out, Charles' fingers making their way over your mound, pressing over the wet spot on your underwear.
"Chèrie, you're so wet," Charles curses, rubbing you through the thin fabric. "Will you let me get a taste of you, hm?"
You nod frantically, already buckling under the lightest of touch from both men. You can only imagine how pathetic you look right now, stripped bare, with them still fully clothed.
"We should move this to the room," Oscar offers, delivering a final pinch to both of your nipples. You yelp as Oscar chuckles darkly, taking your hand in his.
It hasn't even fully started and you're already made to do the walk of shame.
Oscar's walls are still mostly bare but you feel exposed somehow, shivering despite the fairly warm temperature. He leads you and Charles to the door at the end of the hall, stepping inside while undoing the rest of the buttons on his shirt.
You're met with large double doors on one side of the room, leading to, what you can only assume, is a large balcony.
"We can do it with a view, amour," Charles says, wrapping both arms around your waist.
Oscar shrugs his shirt off and you watch as his muscles flex beneath his skin, taut and defined.
"We sure can," Oscar agrees, flinging the doors to his balcony open. The cool night breeze blows past your face and you sigh, heart rate picking up even more.
Charles gently maneuvers you closer to the open doors and your hands start to clam up. Shit, are you really doing this?
"W-Wait," you mutter. "Won't anyone see?"
Oscar approaches you, pointer finger hooking into your underwear. He tugs at it harshly, yanking it halfway off.
"We don't have to do it outside if you don't want to," Oscar says, voice low. He looks at Charles. "Don't wanna get kicked out after I've just moved in."
Charles snickers. "The bed is right there. We'll leave the doors open and let them hear you, instead."
And it's true. The bed is directly in front of the balcony doors, moonlight spilling onto Oscar's navy blue sheets. Oscar grabs fully at your soiled panties now, ripping them clean off.
You gasp, but any shock is melted away when you see Oscar ball up the torn fabric in his hand, bringing it closer to your face. He raises his eyebrows as if questioning you.
"Yes? No?" He asks, tapping beneath your chin. It clicks a little late what Oscar is asking of you but you nod, parting your lips.
Oscar grins, pushing your panties into your mouth.
Fuck.
You hear the metal clang of a belt being unbuckled behind you, followed by the crinkle of fabric as Charles lets his pants and underwear pool around his ankles.
"You and I are going to have so much fun with her, no, Oscar?" Charles asks, a hint of mischief in his voice.
Oscar undoes the button of his pants as well. "Yes, we are."
"How do you want to do this, baby?" Charles addresses you, taking hold of your hips. "Tell us."
"And maybe if you're good, we'll give you what you want," Oscar adds, a hand sliding up your chest before resting around your neck. Your breath hitches as you feel Oscar test the waters, squeezing lightly.
"Oh, wait," Charles laughs condescendingly. "She can't talk."
There's a glint in Oscar's eyes as he adds pressure around your neck. "Guess we have to decide for her then."
You whimper, arms reaching out to wrap around Oscar's own neck. He smiles at you, almost warmly, but you can still see the bubbling desire in his irises.
"You can take the gag out any time you want," Oscar instructs softly, releasing your neck. You take in a big breath through your nose.
"And if you don't like anything we're doing, say 'Monte Carlo'," Oscar adds. He nods at Charles and you feel yourself being pulled backward.
"Get on the bed," Charles commands and you scramble to do so, crawling over the mattress before turning around and laying back on your elbows.
Charles and Oscar eye you intently and you're tempted to cover yourself, but with how they've been acting the whole night, you're not sure how that would be received.
"You wanna go first?" Oscar nudges Charles lightly. The Monegasque grins widely like a kid on Christmas.
"Oh, yes," Charles concedes, getting on the bed with you. He scoots down so his face is level with your cunt.
"Hold tight, my love," Charles says before licking a thick stripe up your core. Your whole body jerks and you cry around the gag in your mouth.
Charles continues to work on your dripping pussy, alternating between flicking against your clit and circling your hole. You moan and whine and whimper, eyes tearing up as you look pleadingly at Oscar.
"Look at you," Oscar laughs. "We've barely done anything."
Charles spreads your legs even wider, licking even deeper. You're fully crying now, the buildup proving too much as you feel your body shake at your approaching orgasm.
Oscar reaches over and toys with your boobs, brushing over your nipples just the way you like it. Without warning, Oscar dips his head down and takes one in his mouth, circling the nub with his own tongue.
The added sensation nearly drives you crazy. The pressure builds rapidly inside you and you're left incoherent as you beg without words.
Not yet, fuck, I can't cum that fast–
You twitch and involuntarily press your pussy harshly against Charles' mouth as you come undone, toes curling and body seizing up. Oscar pulls away and watches as you throw your head back, fingers twisting into the sheets.
"Already?" You hear Charles' voice through the ringing in your ears. "You must really want it."
You blink through your tears, momentarily confused as you see Oscar reach for your face. You cough as you feel the dry fabric being pulled out from your mouth. Oscar tosses your ruined underwear to the side.
"I think she deserves a reward for getting there so fast," Oscar suggests, turning to Charles.
"Which one do you want a taste of first? You get to pick, sweetheart," Oscar says, wiping a stray line of drool dripping down the side of your mouth.
"Ch-Charles," you croak, throat still dry.
Charles and Oscar share a curt nod and the former moves to the head of the bed.
"Hands and knees, my love," Charles orders and you follow, getting on all fours. He settles against the headboard, leaning back as you take his cock in your hand.
"Guess you want me here, then?" Oscar says from behind you. You turn to peek over your shoulder to see Oscar stroking languidly at his cock, one of his hands coming down to spread your ass apart.
"Fuck, this view," Oscar hisses, smacking your ass once.
"I reckon, you don't need me to prep you? I can just–"
You shriek as you feel Oscar push in without warning, and though it was a surprise, the obscene amount of arousal coming from your cunt aids in the stretch that Oscar's cock brings.
He fully sheathes himself inside and he groans, grabbing your hips with both hands.
"Chèrie." Charles' voice forces your attention back to him.
"Don't forget about me, hm?"
You try to compose yourself as best as you can as Oscar starts to fuck you at a relentless pace. You lower your mouth down to Charles' cock, wrapping your lips around the tip.
You take half of him in, coating him in your spit, going lower each time you come down. Charles is nearly as incoherent as you were earlier, curse words in three different languages falling from his lips.
You feel the tip of his cock reach the back of your throat and you stop, gagging around it. Charles threads his fingers through your hair, yanking you back up.
"Open your mouth," Charles says, tightening the grip on your hair.
You do as you're told and Charles angles himself better. He holds you in place as he fucks up into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat each time. You will your breathing to slow, but the constant assault on your pussy muddles your brain and destroys your focus.
"She's so fucking tight," Oscar says through gritted teeth. You can feel his nails dig into your sides.
"Here as well," Charles agrees. "So warm and so wet."
All you can do is sob as you let the two of them use you, filled up on both sides, reduced to nothing but two holes.
"Fuck, I wanna cum on her face," Oscar says hurriedly, hips slowing down, probably in an attempt to keep his orgasm at bay.
Charles pulls you back off of him and he surveys you for a second.
"And I'll do it inside," Charles says. "Will you let me cum inside, chèrie?"
You nod, unconsciously clenching around Oscar. He curses, speeding up his movements again.
"Mate, I can't take it anymore," Oscar rushes, pulling out. You whine at the loss but Charles is quick to get off the bed, replacing Oscar's place behind you.
You feel the Charles' tip press against your hole and you plead, rocking back, desperate to be filled up.
"Charles, please, n-need your cum in me," you stutter. "Wanna be filled up, I need it, need you, please–"
Charles slides in one swift motion and your eyes roll all the way back in your head. He's thicker than Oscar and the stretch is almost painful but in the best way possible.
The older of the two wastes no time and starts pounding into you, rendering you speechless at how brutal his pace is. You're dizzy with arousal, spit and tears mixing on your chin and cheeks.
"Look here, sweetheart," comes Oscar's voice, rough around the edges, his hand cupping your chin.
He's stroking his cock at an impossible pace, bottom lip caught between his teeth. You look straight into his eyes as you stick your tongue out, waiting for him to release all over you.
"Fuck, you really are desperate for it," Oscar sneers, gripping harder at your face. "Open wide."
A warm spurt of liquid shoots straight onto your tongue, landing on your cheeks as well. You squint as it hits nearer to your eyes but you obediently lick up everything you can from your lips, swallowing Oscar's thick cum down.
"Oh god, baby," Charles warns. "Je vais bientôt jouir–"
Charles presses you closer to him, caging your hips against his own. He groans and you feel him twitch within you. You clench down as hard as you can around him, earning your hair a harsh tug from behind. Charles yanks you back against him as he gives a few more thrusts to ride his orgasm out.
"We are not done with you yet, amour," Charles warns.
Oscar's face comes into view and he's eyeing you up and down, his thumb swiping at a stain of himself on your cheek. He brings it to your lips and you lick his digit clean.
"Good girl," Oscar praises. "But he's right. You can give us a few more, right?"
You swallow.
You nod.
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the girl next door 29
Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.
Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.
Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.
This lewk but silverfox
You peel off the suit and wring it out. You leave it in the bathroom to dry, but more so you don't need to look at it. You've never been so humiliated in all your life.
Worse than your mother's bitter grumbles, or the way your grandmother used to nitpick at every part of you was that look in Steve's eyes. It was like nothing you've ever seen before. Not angry, not judging, but something mysterious that unsettled you.
Ugh. You sneer at the wall as you pull on the baggiest tee shirt you have. You hate yourself. No, you hate your body. No matter what you do, it's clumsy and somehow you get in the way of yourself.
You shimmy into a pair of pajama shorts and flop onto your bed. You could read but your head won't let you focus. Drawing isn't an option either, you're still shaking from the exposure.
Sleep. Well, that won't come. Every time you close your eyes, you just see Steve and the water, and your nakedness. You can't imagine what your mother would've said if she'd saw.
She hadn't, had she?
You roll over and hide your head under your arm. You just lay there, desperate to escape somehow. The hours wear on, the day shifting around your unmoving form, the stagnant house dampening your skin with sweat.
When you finally get the strength to flip onto your back, you realise you've been crying. You sniffle and mop your cheeks. You don't know why you're crying. Humiliation, sure, but don't be such a baby.
You sit up cradle your head until it's a little less fragile. You get to your feet and shuffle out to use the bathroom. You pointedly ignore the pink checkered fabric.
When you're done, you go to the kitchen. You look in the fridge. Not much there. You take out an old cup of pudding and fish out a spoon. You sit at the table and stir it but don't eat.
You remember when you were a kid, your grandma would give you tapioca. Your mother only ever got banana. You hate banana pudding. It tastes so artificial.
You're not a kid anymore. You're realising that now. It's time to be an adult. You don't have a place here anymore. Your mom has Steve and you have... nothing.
The front door whines on its ungreased hinges. You wince and look up, shove a spoonful into your mouth.
Steve appears. He has a tee on but still wears his swim shorts. You look at him dully and swallow, scooping up more of the pudding.
"You hungry? You could have come over for lunch."
You shrug and keep eating. Your stomach sickens at the overly sweet treat. You want to spit it out.
"You're still mad?" He asks.
You shrug again.
He sighs. He crosses the room and pulls out the chair across from you, "look, sweetie," he twines his fingers through each other as he rests his arms on the table, "I'm real sorry. I was trying to have some fun. I made a mistake. We all do, right?"
You stare at the table and nod.
"Right, so can we move past it? Forget it ever happened?"
"Forget?" You echo in a croak. "Erm."
"Wiped clean," he unweaves his fingers and makes a smooth motion over the table top. "How about it? Can you forgive me?"
You let the spoon go and slide the cup aside. You can't look up. It's more than the embarrassment of what happened. It's the constant shame that follows you around. You're just a hanger-on. He doesn't have to keep pretending because of your mom. She deserves to have a life after all the years she wasted on you. A life without you.
"I'm sorry. I'm... I'm going to find a job and I'll do my best and..." you ramble as you trace your fingers on the table and tilt your head back and forth, "and you won't have to worry about me."
"Sweetie?" He reaches over to still your hand, "what are you talking about?"
"I shouldn't be... I shouldn't be living with you. Or mom. You two... I'm in the way--"
"In the way? Sweetie," he squeezes your hand, "I promise you that's not true."
"It has to be."
"Why? Why does that have to be true?"
"Because no one wants me," you turn your face down but he won't let go of your hand so you can hide.
"I know that's not true," he insists.
"It is. You see it. My mom..." you shudder and hold back a sob, "hates me."
He's quiet. He clings to you even as you try to pull free. "I don't hate you."
"You barely know me."
"Sweetie, I know enough. Just enough to know you're a sweet girl. A good girl. All this time you've been taking care of your mom. Not anyone does that, you know? Most people would just leave her behind," he brings his other hand up to pet your knuckles, "and you're considerate and kind and gentle."
"Please," you wisp and tug on your hand again, "you don't have to--"
"I want you," he interjects as he tightens his grip, "sweetie, look at me."
Your eyes flick up, startled by his hold and his tone.
"You said no one wants you? I do. I shouldn't. I know it. I... I saw the way you take care of Holly, I saw how hard you try, I saw it all and I--"
He finally lets you go. You recoil, shocked. Your hand tingles and your heart races. He doesn't mean it like that. He can't. You blink and lean back, making yourself as small as you can.
"I'm sorry," he drops his head into his hands, "I'm sorry, sweetie. I'm trying not to feel like this. I've been fighting myself but..." he looks up, fingers stretched up his cheeks as his eyes glimmer, "I... don't love your mom. I only married her so... so..." he closes his eyes and trembles, "I shouldn't say it." His lashes flick open and he sits up straight, "so I could take care of you. That's why. But I couldn't... be honest. Because I didn't want to scare you or lose you. Just having you close is enough so I lied." He sniffs and a tear rolls out, "worse, I couldn't even be honest with myself. Not until now. Until it's too late."
You gape at him. He just watches you. His expression is pained and sheepish.
"Please, sweetie, say something."
"You can't mean it," you breathe, "please take it back."
"I can't," he utters.
You sit in silence. You don't know what to say. You can't think. It's all too much. Why can't today just be over?
He inhales and lets it out as he fixes his posture. He gulps thickly and you look up. He stares at you. The same look as before. The one you don't understand.
"Sweetie," his voice is firmer and his tears are evaporated, "I have one question." You lower your brow, confused, "do you want your mom to be taken care of?"
"What?" You squeak.
"Your mom? You want her to be comfortable? Supported? Get the proper treatment?" He's staunch as he speaks, "you can't do it yourself. We both know you were struggling. Do you got the money for her next hospital stay? For the nurse?"
You whimper and shake your head, "what do you mean?"
"Sweetie, your mom needs me. You need me. Don't play dumb," he intones, "I will do anything. I will make sure mom is nice and cozy. She has her meds and everything she needs. There's only one thing I want in return." He clicks his tongue and inclines his head, "it's too bad it's the only thing you got."
You stare at him. Through him. The whole world narrows in on you as your chest caves in. You close your eyes, wishing against everything, that it can make him go away.
#steve rogers#dark steve rogers#dark!steve rogers#steve rogers x reader#drabble#series#au#silverfox au#the girl next door#mcu#marvel#avengers#captain america
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carmen walking in on you working on your laptop while amchovys watching old garfield on the large ass tv 😭
this is just too cute! i had to make it a little blurb <3
"Baby," Carmen called, pulling his keys from the door with a hard yank. He was counting down the days until you two moved out and into your new home, away from this apartment and all it's questionable fixtures.
Carmen could hear you before he could see you, piles of boxes filled with your belongings blocked his vision. Maneuvering carefully through the cardboard boxes, moving into the living room.
"Hey, baby," Carmen hummed, tossing his backpack onto the small table, the only space voice of boxes.
"Hey, Bear," You cooed back, voice still a little distracted. He knew he'd find you, hunched over your laptop, clicking and clacking away on your laptop.
His chest warmed at the nickname, a tiny flush in his cheeks. "Still workin'?"
"Just finishing up." You turned when he came into view, smiling at his post work state- curls wild from a day in the kitchen, matted from the ball cap he'd tucked them under. "How was your day?"
Carmen leaned down, lips catching yours in a soft kiss. "Long," Carmen sighed. He could've melted into you at that moment, exhausted from the day, and your lips just felt so good. Instead, he stood, running a hand over your shoulder sweetly.
"'M sorry." You gave him a soft pout. "Is it the new hires? The critics?"
"Yeah, I mean, some of it- yeah. Sugar's pissin' me off too. Keeps bitchin' at me to- Is that," Carmen did a double take, blinking over at the TV screen, then back at Anchovy, lounging in his scratch tower watching the screen.
"What?"
Carmen grinned. "Is that Garfield?" He snorted lightly. "Fuckin' Garfield?"
"Yeah," You frowned at him playfully. "That a problem?"
"Seems a little obvious, babe." Carmen looked over at Anchovy, laughing at the little cat who had yet to stop watching the cartoon.
"He likes it." You grinned smugly. "He loves Garfield. I always put it on for him, so I can work without him trying to jump on my head or lay across my laptop every five seconds."
"Y-You do this a lot?" Carmen snickered. "This a daily thing?"
"Yeah," You grinned, moving your laptop to the side, sinking your knees into the couch, raising to meet Carmen. "We do a lot of things while you're at work, Daddy." Your eyes narrowed with mischief that had Carmen flushing.
"Stop that." Carmen muttered, swallowing around the growing lump in his throat when your nails raked over his chest. "I-I'm gonna take a shower. Then I'll make some dinner, alright?"
You hummed, fingers trailing up towards the neckline of his shirt. You could feel the heat of his blush burning through the cotton. "Mm, I think I'll join you." You purred lightly.
"Yeah?" Carmen leaned into your touch, hands grabbing at your arms. "What're you gonna do with Chovy?" He nodded towards the small cat, who was going through a painfully irritating clingy stage with you. Every time you and Carmen tried to be alone, just the two of you, Anchovy was chirping, yowling, crying until you relented and let him in.
"He's good." You looked over your shoulder at Anchovy. "He's watching Garfield. He's locked in. He won't even realize we're gone."
#thebearer#bearblahs#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto#carmy berzatto x reader#the bear#carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto fluff#anchovy berzatto#carmen 'carmy' berzatto#carmy smut#carmen berzatto smut#carmen berzatto x reader smut#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto x fem!reader#carmen berzatto x female!reader#carmy fluff#carmy berzatto fluff#thebearerblurbs#carmen berzatto blurb
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like real people do. / kageyama tobio / nsfw
wc: 5.5k
Warnings: Kageyama is autistic, smut, fingering, reader has nipple piercings, reader works in A&R for music, reader used to live in brazil, friends to lovers, awkward sex
A/N: experimenting with more awkward/realistic smut and I love my autistic blorbo Kageyama
thank you to @peachyminx and @dervngedgf for beta reading
Kageyama never did understand the way that conversations worked, or were supposed to work. They were winding, circuitous, jumping from place to place. Unstable like a fault line, bursting from tension. The older he got the more he began to have a loose grasp on them. One so faint it slipped from his fingers if there was too much deviation. It hadn’t been easy to get to this point. It took years of failed attempts at making friends, three failed relationships, and a PR manager to get here.
Hardly a gentle climb into social know-how.
There was a script that worked in most situations. The gym, interviews, the grocery store, casuals and quick conversations weren’t altering his normal routine in any major way. He liked things being the normal way.
So why the hell was he in a club? A place that went so far against the normal?
It had been Hirugami’s idea, he said that the team needed to bond more. Kageyama knew it was just a thinly veiled excuse to get drunk on the team’s card.
It was awful— the drinking.
Conversations were bad enough while sober, small talk, social cues being a forge in language, and alcohol just made him feel worse about them. The script was thrown across the room and given to an AI generator that made something worse for him to spit back out.
The pounding music, early 2000s rap, split his head with each drum beat feeling like it was played against his skull. He could smell everything, the foreigners easily able to be picked out from the crowd. The buttons on his navy blue dress shirt had started choking him early so it was now half undone, which he hated. Shirts were meant to have only one, or two, buttons undone depending on the level of formality of the event attending. How many were appropriate for a club? At four buttons down the curve of the underside of his pecs could be seen.
He felt out of place, out of his element, and like a child sitting at the grown-ups' table for the first time and trying to seem mature.
“Tobio!” Nicolas shouted at him from across the booth. “When are you going to bring Y/N around again?”
His face scrunched up. “Why?”
“Because if you’re not going to make a move I am!” Nicolas’ laugh was grating and sharp. “They used to live not far from my parents. A shame it took until now to meet.”
“I thought you were working things out with Maria?” Kageyama had stopped bringing you around after one too many comments on how he was in love with you and afraid to make a move. Something Nicolas harped on him for and took every opportunity to flirt with you in front of him.
“Por que não ambos? Maria doesn’t have to know.” Kageyama hated the smirk that spread across the Brazilian's face. He knew that Nicolas was teasing him, just like he knew Nicolas wasn’t interested in you in the slightest, but it always drove him up the wall.
Wakatoshi cut in, voice steady and flat, as always. As much as Kageyama struggled with conversations he knew Wakatoshi would be right there with him. “I believe we have discussed many times that Kageyama-san has stated he is waiting for a better opportunity to discuss his feelings with Y/N-san.”
“That’s what he said last week and three months ago and then six months ago.” Sokolov chimed into the conversation now, monkey-like as he usually was, followed by Heiwajima.
“You really should talk to them about it. Either way, you need closure to get past your emotional constipation.”
Kageyama wanted to crawl into a hole. It was bad enough having to figure out his feelings but having them discussed in front of him made him want to jump off the side of Tokyo Tower. His feelings were complicated. Tangled and messy, blending into each other. He didn’t know if he would ever be able to separate them let alone tell you about them.
“Guuys chill, chill,” Hirugami was back with another round of drinks. “Tobio will get to it when pigs fly.” The team busted out laughing. It was humiliating no matter how many times they all poked at him about it. The only way that he’d ever get them to stop was to confess to you.
“Fuck you guys.” He was grumpy now, grumbling into his drink as he took a swig.
The chorus all said they just wanted the best for him, that there was no way you didn’t feel the same way, that it was all in good faith, all stuff to make them feel better about teasing him. He hated being teased.
Maybe if he just told you they’d finally leave him alone about it. You might get distant for a bit but he had faith that you could be friends again down the road.
“If I tell them tonight will you guys leave me alone about it?”
Nicolas’ sly look managed to get worse. “You tell them tonight and I’ll give you ten thousand yen.”
“Deal.”
Slipping his phone out of his front pocket and pulling up your contact information had never felt so stressful. He didn’t need the money, he just wanted to be left alone about this.
To: Y/N
Can you meet me outside Playa Del Sol?
From: Y/N
You’re at a club?
To: Y/N
I wasn’t my idrea
Typing was hard. The heat of all the bodies in the room made his hand slippery.
From: Y/N
Lucky you, I’m just down the street at a gig
>You think you’d be fine to hang out for that? Local band
To: Y/N
As long as it’s not Sean Paul
From: Y/N
Kk see you in 10
Kageyama was, as usual, grateful for your friendship as he excused himself from the group and headed outside to wait for you. More often than not you served as a refuge for him. One of the few people in the world who truly understood him. You didn’t question his mannerisms and need for routine.
Once he had asked if you thought he was weird, as flawed as he felt, and you had looked at him as if the question was stupid and gave a simple ‘no.’
Meeting you had been a deviation from the norm in the best way. Hinata had been visiting and when they were out they bumped into you, surprised since you had been a manager at one of Hinata’s favorite jazz clubs back in Brazil.
Kageyama got lost in the conversation as Hinata and you bounced between English, Portuguese, and Japanese when speaking. You had corrected and steered the conversation to Japanese, seeing Kageyama’s confusion.
Your Japanese was clunky back then, and your mouth still struggling with the syllables at times. More than that, your understanding of pitch accent back then was abysmal.
But that meeting had changed his world, shifted its axis.
Eventually, Hinata’s two-month vacation ended and he left, and Kageyama expected you to leave his orbit too. But you didn’t, you stayed around. It’s been three years and you were still around. And it's been a year since he realised he loved you.
When the night air had started to sink in, sweat from the club finally drying, he saw you round the corner.
Every time he saw you he thought he’d get used to how beautiful you were but he never could. You were bright as the sun, warming him, the rays of your light brushing across his skin promised growth, comfort, and shelter.
Your braids had been half pulled back in some sort of half-updo, two ponytails at the top of your head. He has watched you do them the other week. Or he had been watching before you made him help you since he was sitting there. He didn’t know how to braid at all, but you made him learn. Told him your continued friendship was dependent on it.
He was glad you made him learn though. It gave him an excuse to be in your space, close to you, for hours on end. To touch you without worrying if the amount of contact was normal or not.
“Tobio!” His name always sounded so perfect coming from your glossed lips. There was a twinkle in your eyes. You had done your makeup for “special events” as you had once explained it to him. Instead of a normal cat eye, you had graphic black eyeliner. He never understood why you wore makeup but he knew that it was something you enjoyed doing.
He stumbled a bit as he moved towards you, wetting his lips with his tongue. “Y/N.”
“Whoa careful there big guy! How much have you had to drink tonight?”
Your arm grasped his bicep, his heart stuttering at the contact.
“Three double vodka cranberries and one beer.”
Your brows raised. “Rough time in there huh?”
“You have no idea.” Kageyama launched into recounting what had happened.
One of his favourite things about you was how you didn’t press on topics he didn’t want to talk about. You left the conversation shift onto the gig you dragged him to and about the band. His second favourite thing about you was your willingness to unabashedly talk about your interests. Your job as an A&R at Sony meant you were always talking to him about a new band or artist. Before meeting you he wouldn’t consider himself someone who cared about music much. It was just something to help him keep pace while running. He didn’t understand why people liked it. But by watching you he started to dissect the reasons.
It wasn’t a conscious decision, no grand realisation listening to a recommendation from you. It was a gradual shift. He started listening to more things, trying to pick out ones you’d like and he could send them to you. It was only after Wakatoshi had pointed out he was humming one day that he clocked the change went beyond just you.
When you got to the venue, you flashed your Employee ID at security and pulled Kageyama in behind you. It was just as dimly lit as the club but the smaller venue made it less obstructive. You had dragged him here before for a folk singer-songwriting you signed after the show. He had no idea what he was about to listen to but he knew if it was you, it’d be good.
You led him to the middle of the standing-room area. You preferred a more central location so you could observe the artist’s dynamics and stage presence. While he would normally want to be on the outskirts, he didn’t mind being in the middle. It was crowded though so you were stood in front of him. Someone walked past and knocked you back against him.
“Sorry!” You knew that he didn’t like physical contact much, so you created space as soon as you could. It pained him.
“It’s okay. I don’t mind if it’s you.” When you smiled up at him, he felt like he was going to short-circuit. “Who are we discovering today?”
Another person bumped you into him, shifting your balance and almost causing you to fall. He wrapped his arms around you to stabilise you before he even knew what he was doing.
You muttered under your breath something about expecting better from the crowd here. “You remember Hozier?”
He knew who Hozier was. You had forced him to listen to Hozier’s entire discography one day. He liked Hozier. In another world maybe he would be as good with his words as the singer was. He could write you poems and sonnets, tell you all the little things about you that made him feel right. As much as he might try now, he couldn’t so he hoped that you wouldn’t hold it against him.
“Yes. You made me listen to his entire discography.” His throat felt dry. “I don’t believe I understood all the metaphors but he has a good voice.”
“Well, imagine Hozier if he was Japanese. And he blended traditional instruments, taiko drums and all that, with a raspy voice and great lyricism.”
“I see.” His gaze shifted, watching you adjust in his arms. He wondered if he should release you if he was supposed to have let go three seconds ago or held on longer. Now he was scared to move and make it weirder by moving.
“Sorry, should I let you go?” He was nervous, anxiety creeping, edging him out of the buzz he had from drinking earlier and into harsh sobriety.
“No, it’s okay. I’m kinda cold and you’re really warm.”
“Okay.”
The conversation between the two of you died down and Kageyama wanted to make a clone of himself and shake it around. What the hell was he doing? Under the dim lights, the first few chords starting to play, cradling you in his arms, he felt so nervous.
The opening band started to fill the room with an instrumental. Their first two songs went by quickly enough at least. You would sway along, occasionally bobbing your head to the beat. Your eyes were focused on them as they performed. Someone might look over and think you were a long-time fan of the opening act, enraptured by their performance, but Kageyama knew you. You were appraising them, seeing if they had potential.
As their set drug on, he found himself watching you more than the band. Your brows would twitch, pulling together in the middle for a split second, every time they did something you considered to be a technical miss. You had told him that bands were like a team of volleyball players.
When you explained it you said that singers were like aces. The powerhouse that made a team stand apart from their opponents. Drums were the setter. They set the tempo, and the flow, of the song Guitars were like hitters, driving down the point. Keys or synths were liberos, not always on the track but essential for making a good song, and basses were middle blockers, getting a perfect read and keeping the team grounded. So far it seemed like the band was winning their set.
He liked watching you like this, seeing you the most in your element. It hurt his heart, made it tight in his chest from how your eyes darted across the stage. It felt like ripping off a bandage. Diving without a kneepad and your skin tearing on the polished floor of the court. Like hand sanitiser in a superficial wound. Painful, but knowing that the pain was a sign of growth, of healing.
The lighting changed, hues of pink and red, as the frontman started talking about their next and final song. He was telling the crowd to grab their lovers, pull them close, and sway along with the music. Kageyama nearly choked when you turned to face him and wrapped your arms around his neck.
“Well hello lover.” you giggle at the last word, joking about your relationship. While didn’t like the joking nature of it, he wanted it to be real, he liked you calling him it. Your fingernails scratched at the nape of his neck, tangling in the hairs there.
He had had too much to drink and feeling your chest against his own was making the blood rush from his head and straight to his groin. He felt like a teenage boy, unable to keep himself from growing hard. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but he swore he could feel your nipples.
His breath hitched as he went to respond, low and raspy in your ear. “Hello.” Kageyama wanted to say something better, more suave and flirtatious, wishing for a second that he could embody the same way with women Nicolas had.
“How much did you have to drink?”
“Not enough.” His cheeks were flush, he needed something in this moment. To pull you closer against himself or to push you away so you didn’t catch on to his growing hard-on.
Your heartbeat against his own in the confined space, slower than his rapid one. The music drowned out, turning to background sounds as he stared into your eyes. Eye contact was normally so forced for him, constantly having to remind himself to make it. It felt so much more intense with you like you could see through him. He loved your eye colour and the way the corners of your eyes crinkled when you smiled.
Your lips curled up into a smile as you gazed at him, coated in a shimmery gloss that smelt like vanilla. Your tongue poked out the wet your lips, something you always did when you needed to reapply the lip gloss. He wanted to know what it felt like against his own. If it was as sticky as it looked. If it’d pull into fine strands as you separated.
“What are you staring at so intensely? I feel like you’re dissecting me.”
He felt loose and sappy from the drinks earlier, more willing to take risks.
“You. I’m staring at you.”
“Me?”
His eyes shifted up to meet yours again. “You.” You chuckled a little bit at him before replying.
“Why?”
“I want to kiss you.” The words slipped out of him before he could stop them, once again putting his foot in his mouth. You were going to reject him, tell him off for violating your boundaries. He’d have to text Hinata tomorrow that he fucked up with you and that everything went wrong.
“Kiss me.” The first time you said the words it didn’t compute in his brain.
“Tobio, kiss me.” He stood frozen, short-circuiting, he had been so set on an outcome that a change in path threw him off.
The trance was broken when he felt your lips against his, sticky from the lip gloss as he imagined. You were soft, like a feather brushing across his kiss, gentle and tentative. When you pulled away from him it felt like he could breathe again. You tasted sweet, no doubt partially from the lip gloss but also just you. He wanted more.
Kageyama leaned in, one hand tentatively reaching up to the side of your face to cradle it. His lips met yours again it started with pecks, gentle like you had been, before building in intensity. It felt like Kageyama had been starving for years, the sensation unknown and accepted as just a part of living, but as your mouth opened and his tongue met yours he realised that his hunger, his craving, his desire, had been an aspect of himself so far removed from his understanding until this moment. He understood want and need now that he had tasted you.
The heat of your breath melting with his own made his nerves alight as you parted for air.
“I’m in love with you.” Your forehead met his shoulder and you laughed.
“Tobio I know,” it was like the lights in the room knew to shine down around you giving you a halo. “You’re not good at hiding it.”
“I’m sorry.” You tucked your head under his chin and he let his hands slip down from your waist and into your back pockets, feeling emboldened by your actions.
You swayed with him to the beat of the song as the transition music into the main act’s set began.
“If it’s any consolation I found it cute.” Your lips met the side of his neck and you tilted upwards to his ear. “I’m in love with you too.”
He joined you in shifting side to side, enjoying the moment as you murmured against his skin, voice warmth with honesty. He didn’t understand it all, but he understood you in this moment, the shared feeling of love between you. One old and ancient, but never weathered by time, still steadfast in its stature. Unending, unshifting.
The “Japanese Hozier” stepped out onstage and Kageyama let you turn to face the stage, moving to take his hands off you only to find them being wrapped around your waist again, guided by your hands. He wouldn’t remember the set list, or the singer's performance, too entangled in you and feeling you in all his senses to care about anything else.
───※ ·❆· ※───
You had brought him home after the show, still humming some of the songs as you puttered around. He had changed as you made a midnight snack for the two of you. His hair hung in clumped damp strands as he played sudoku on his phone waiting for you to finish up. You hated when he got in your way in the kitchen.
With a plate full of mini pancakes you plopped down on the couch next to him, your makeup removed and hair up. He liked you the most like this, relaxed and human. Sometimes he worried you were an angel sent down from the heavens to make him believe in god but instead drove him to sin.
He took one off the plate when you moved it closer to him. Chewing on it slowly, watching you nibble on yours.
“You wanna talk about it?” His eyes were peeled on your lips.
“Only if you’re comfortable.”
“I’m fine…” you moved and placed the plate on the coffee table. “Good, actually. Great even.”
“I feel like I owe you an explanation.”
You raised an eyebrow at him. “For what?”
“I don’t know.” He felt so many things right now it was difficult to verbalise any of them.
You pulled your knees to your chest and faced him. A braid fell into your face and you tucked it behind your ear. Every time he looked at you he understood poetry and prose, songs of admiration, why men would go to war over their lovers. It was nonsensical, to think you could see stars in someone's eyes, but you reflected the lights of the room like a planetarium. He thought that he might die before he found the words to express his thoughts and feelings to you, to get his point across, but he knew with you he didn’t have to. He had never had to.
His hand encompassed your own, interlocking his fingers with yours. They fit together like puzzle pieces, you the last piece needed to complete the puzzle. Simple connection, conjoining of spirits.
Kageyama tugged on your hand, pulling you towards himself, making you come to rest on your shins in between his legs. He kissed the back of your hand, softly, tenderly, still afraid that there was something he was missing. But the ball never dropped, the tower never crumbled, and he led you further forward, your free hand resting at his chest before slithering up the back of his neck.
He couldn’t tell if it was you or him who moved first, closing the distance between you, your lips meeting again. It felt more tentative than the first ones had. Careful and measured, aware of the space, the boundaries, the dynamic you had had. Of how that was shifting, changing, as the pretences you had were changed.
Kageyama dropped your hand in favour of wrapping his around your waist, guiding you to manoeuvre into his lap. Your ass rested against his groin. The longer he kissed you, the more he felt himself growing hard, aided by your hips grinding down on him. Once on a night out with the team, you had danced with him and it was then that he learned of how fluid you were. Tonight you were water, dripping down on him, swirling around him, wetting his skin.
He palmed at the waistband of the sleep shorts you had changed into, desperately wanting to remove them but unwilling to force you into something. You pulled away from kissing him to remove your shorts, left in just your underwear and oversized shirt. Kageyama quickly stripped off his shirt before kissing you again, this time letting it evolve into making out with you.
One of your hands moved to his lower abdomen, brushing against his happy trail, making him shiver. He felt you palm at his length through his sweats, slow and sensually. His dick was bigger than you thought it’d be. Average girth but one or two inches longer than expected.
“Can I touch you?”
“Yes.” His response was quick, jumping the gun, eager to have you take him in your hand.
When your skin met his Kageyama swore he might cum from it. His emotions were high-strung, making him more sensitive. He whimpered as your thumb crossed over the tip.
Your hands felt like velvet against him, smooth and soft, your touch gentle but firm, supplying the perfect amount of pressure as you began sliding it up and down his shaft. His stomach muscles tightened as you went along, pulling him in on himself. It should be criminal that you made him feel such a way from something so simple, reducing him into a schoolboy being touched for the first time.
He wrapped a hand around your wrist to stop your movements, separating from kissing you to speak.
“I’m going to cum if you do that too much.”
“That’s the goal Tobio.”
“Yes, I know, but I would like to make you cum before I do.”
You gave a small smile, butterflies flitting around in his stomach as you did. “Well, who am I to stop you?”
You crossed your arms as you took off your shirt. When you changed earlier you must not have put on a bra. The curve of your waist he knew already to be temptation incarnate, but the swell of your chest would turn any many into a sinner.
Your nipples were hard as they were exposed to the cool air of your apartment, small silver balls catching the overhead light.
“You have your nipples pierced?”
You cupped your breasts, pinching your nipples. Tobio’s eyes were locked in, focused on the way the silver complimented you. “Yeah, I’ve had them for ages.”
“Can I touch them?” He wanted to pinch at your nipples and feel the cool metal beside them. Your nod was all he needed to do so.
His touch was hesitant at first, afraid of damaging the piercing somehow. When he squeezed down harder on them he could feel the bars going through your nipples. It was interesting to him, the modification, he wondered what made you get them in the first place.
As he pinched and twisted your nipples slightly, a soft whimper snuck out the back of your throat, going straight to his already painfully hard erection.
If you were sensitive to this he wanted to know what it would do to you if he took them into his mouth. It was in the name of science that he did so, leaning forward and wrapping his mouth around your left nipple.
The metal met his tongue, cold and sharp, constructing against the warmth of your chest. He was cautious not to use his teeth as he played with your nipple in his mouth. You gave out small moans and gasps, hips stuttering against his own, as you threw your head back. Ever since you had gotten them pierced your nipples were more sensitive than ever.
Kagayema stared up at you. He wondered how he got so lucky in life. He’d have to go to the shrine on New Year with his mother to thank the gods for letting him have you like this.
He wanted to make you feel more, to know his touch in ways you never had before.
His free hand not ding at your waist trailed down your side, tracing the outline, as he dragged it down to your core. When he met your underwear, the fabric a simple micro fibre, and slipped past it he was certain that he’d need to go to the shrine every holiday. You were wet, drenched even, allowing his fingers to slip through your slick folds easily.
Kageyama was not a virgin, he’d had sex before and he was thorough with it. His thumb met your clot, going over it in slow circles, while his pointer and ring finger started to tease your hole.
When he was able the press both fingers into you and pump them in and out of you, he released your nipple that he had ever so diligently been sucking on to swap for the other one. He bit down it ever so slightly making a shocked gasp and whimper of his name escape you.
“Be gentle jackass!” Your speech airy, escaping as an exhale.
It was cruel the way how you said his name made his dick jerk as if he was going to cum, the muscle in his abdomen flexing tight. He’d be dammed if he came before you though, his teeth grazing over your nipple again, tongue swiping over the bar.
His fingers picked up in speed, pressing against a spot that made you squeak almost. High-pitched and short. Like you hadn’t expected him to hit it.
The pressure building kept building as he did so, making you get lightheaded as it went on. He was so close to making you cum. Like an itch, you scratch just next to it, the edge.
His thumb kept toying with your clit as he kept his pace steady, matching the tempo. You could feel yourself tightening up as he worked your body. The noises in the room turned pornographic as more liquid gushed out of you, lubricating his hand, making it easier for him to thrust his fingers in and out and in again.
Kageyama detached himself from your chest and moved to kiss along the side of your neck and ear.
“You’re so pretty…” he trailed off before biting your neck and sucking hard to leave a hickey.
You came with a start, the orgasm rolling through you as he bit down, his name coming out a broken moan. Your muscle winding right before snapping under the pressure, eyes screwing shut. It made your head spin, feeling your heartbeat in your skull and down to your toes. The force of it made you clamp down so hard on Kageyama’s fingers that as he tried to pull them out, he couldn’t.
A minute passed before he was finally able to slip them out of you as you whined for him to keep them inside. When you finally opened your eyes you were met with Kageyams face being entirely red.
“You okay?” You propped yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him.
He licked his lips before speaking, trying to wet them. “I just came.”
“Oh.”
Things were still for a second.
“Is there, uh, anything I can do to help?”
“No. Just give me a minute.” This was the most embarrassment he had felt in a long time
“Okay.” You cupped his face with one hand. He turned a kissed your palm “We can stop here if you want.”
He contemplated for a few moments in his head, his boxer briefs now feeling sticky. The sensation was grossing him out no matter how badly he wanted to continue.
“Tobio,” you flicked his forehead “Get out of your head, you’ve got that scrunched-up look on your face.”
He grumbled against your palm as he spoke. “I like you and I’m embarrassed.”
“Well, I love you and we can always go for a second round.”
He stilled, humming under his breath. “Could we shower first?”
“Of course.”
───※ ·❆· ※───
Out of the shower, where a second round had happened, along with telling you about the bet, Kageyama felt unsure of what to do next. It reminded him of leaving a court at the end of a game, his adrenaline high and heart pumping. The adjustment to reality was strange and foreign. He was sure this must have been how you felt after a concert ended. Lost, unsure what to do after as he cuddled with you in your bed.
“What happens next?”
You laughed and it shook your body as you lay on top of him, tracing patterns on his chest.
“You buy me breakfast in the morning.”
“And after that?”
“What about after that?”
“Well,” you started. “We keep doing what we’ve always done. But when we go out to eat we don’t call it hanging out, we call it a date. When we sleep at the other’s place, we sleep in the same bed. Only the little things change between us, the big things stay the same and we get to kiss now. When an interviewer asks if you’ve got a girlfriend, you get to say yes.”
“You’re my girlfriend?”
“Well, I thought that was the point of the confession, well along with winning a bet, unless you don't want me to be?”
“No, I do.”
“Good.”
It was silent for a moment as he intertwined his free hand in your own, bringing it closer to his mouth so he could kiss it. You settled further into him, filling out the space where he was the most empty both physically and metaphorically, humming ‘Like Real People Do’.
A Venmo notification cut through the peace.
Nicolas Romero sent you ¥10,000
“Atta boy Tobio”
©️ uzuzrimisery
#uzuri writes#haikyuu#hq#kageyama tobio#kageyama tobio imagine#haikyuu imagine#haikyuu smut#haikyuu imagine smut#smut#haikyuu x reader smut#kageyama#kagayeama x you#kageyama tobio x you#kage
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mayprompts2024, #29 hero
Chapters 1 to 5 here on AO3
If you like the tattoo AU give it some love on my AO3, please. It would mean a lot to me. TYSM!
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White Pony Tattoo - Part Nine (hero)
John turned around to head for the next bus stop, not knowing if he would even be able to get there. Taking a step and moving away from the tattoo shop seemed impossible. The weight of the world was crushing down on his shoulders and the outlook of not seeing Sherlock for at least a week cut deep into his chest and right into his heart.
The connection I’ve felt, being with Sherlock. Now that it’s gone, I almost feel sick.
John rubbed his eyes and sighed heavily.
Dear God, I think I’ve fallen for him. Fuck. Not just his looks, which are top notch of course, no, it’s the whole package of his personality. Even if he is a real dick at times. I can’t help it.
And yet, I’m wondering.
Did he feel it, too? He practically glowed down there in the lab, speaking to me, showing off his equipment. My appreciation of what he has achieved made him incandescent.
But does he like me back? As a person, as John Watson, the whole package I come with? Or was he just happy to have an audience that applauded his every move? To be forgotten as soon as I’m gone and out of his sight?
The gloomy thoughts clogged John’s brain and rendered him unable to walk away, condemning him to oscillate on the pavement in front of the shop.
“Oh, hello dear. You must be John?”
John was so preoccupied by his musings that he jumped badly when a woman’s voice suddenly adressed him.
“Erm, yes?”
Looking into the direction the voice had come from, John registered a frail but distinguished looking old lady. She had just sat down two heavy looking bags with groceries and held a bunch of keys in her hand. A large golden number dangled from the main key ring.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. But you looked so forlorn and sad. Sherlock has not rejected you again, or has he?”
“Ah, no, he’ll tattoo me,” John quickly connected the puzzle pieces, “and you must be Sherlock’s landlady.”
“Tch, I forgot to introduce myself properly.” She chuckled and offered her hand. “I’m Martha Hudson. Most of the time I’m more like Sherlock’s housekeeper since he cannot be arsed to do the simplest household chores himself.”
Shaking her hand firmly, John laughed. “That sounds very much like him. Always thinking about ink, is he?”
“Yes, yes. He calls it the INK, written all in capital letters. It’s his greatest passion, he cares for little else.” She unlocked the front door.
This offhand comment struck a chord in John, one whose sound he did not really want to hear again. Doubt. Doubt if Sherlock really cared about him apart from putting INK on his skin. He shook himself mentally, trying to get rid of the anxiety that crept upon him like a feral beast.
“Pleased to meet you. Let me just praise the scones you’ve made. They’ve been the best I ever had.”
Mrs Hudson made a delighted sound. “What a charmer you are!”
“Just telling the truth.” John pointed to the grocery bags. “Can I help you with these?”
“Oh, please, if you don’t mind, dear. When the weather is like this, my bad hip is always acting up.”
John carried the bags into 221A, Mrs Hudson’s flat on the ground floor. He put them onto her kitchen table and was about to leave when she invited him on a cup of tea as a thank you for his help. Like every proper Englishman, John could not refuse.
“Did you know that Sherlock explicitly requested tea and scones for you today?” Mrs Hudson said when she handed John the cup with steaming hot tea, watching his face quizzically.
“No?” The undeniable sly look on her otherwise so friendly and open face caught John a bit on the wrong foot. “I thought it was the usual hospitality he shows to his clients.”
Mrs Hudson outright laughed.
“My dear, he never cares about hospitality. The clients come to him anyway, no matter how rude he behaves. Can you imagine my surprise when he asked me to provide tea and scones for your appointment today?”
She refilled John’s tea cup. “He said I need tea and the best scones you can bake when John comes back. Sherlock even added a please in an afterthought.”
“He was sure I’d come back and acept his offer. He just knew.” John shrugged. “He knew me better than I know myself.”
“Not the point, dear. Sherlock wanted to have tea and scones for you. He wanted to impress you and be nice. You must mean something to him if he goes to such lenghts, don’t you think?” Mrs Hudson winked and grinned.
John wondered if she had adopted this mannerism from Sherlock or if it had been the other way around.
“I don’t know. I’d like to think so.” John decided to be honest with Mrs Hudson. Somehow, he was convinced he could trust her. He added wistfully. “I really wish I would be more to him than just the next canvas to put his INK onto.”
“He’s had a hard time in the past,” Mrs Hudson said, “he doesn’t let people get close to him easily or quickly lowers the protective shield he’s put around his heart.”
“Really?” John wondered. “He seemed pretty open and relaxed when he showed me all the stuff in his ink laboratory in the basement.”
“He what?” Mrs Hudson cried out and jumped up. The hip was not bothering her now, apparently.
“John! He never lets people in there. It’s his sanctum sanctorum. It took four months and constant nagging on my behalf until he let me take a look and I own this house. If he shows it to you just like this, you have to be very special to him already!”
Blissful warmth spread through John’s body. His nerves tingled and his blood sang a dulcet melody full of hope. Could it be that…
John beamed. “Thank you so much for telling me, Mrs Hudson. That he cares about me.”
Suddenly, Mrs Hudson’s posture changed.
She fixated John with ice cold eyes, pinning him on the chair. Steel had replaced every trace of her earlier softness and age-related frailty. She stepped up to John.
“Just to give a you heads-up, you’re not the only person who cares about Sherlock.” Her voice was sharp, quiet and deadly serious. “Or protects him.”
It sent chills running down John’s spine.
Mrs Hudson briefly squeezed John’s shoulder. “If you hurt him, I’ll lace your tea with rat poison. I know a nice lad who is a building contractor and he’ll bury your body somewhere in a concrete slab.”
Theatrical as it might appear, John believed her every word.
And just like this, the fearsome avenging angel that had occupied Mrs Hudson’s body disappeared, leaving the nice old landlady behind.
“Do you want another cup of tea, my dear?” She asked sweetly.
In this moment John decided that Martha Hudson was a true heroine.
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tagging some people @totallysilvergirl @peageetibbs @lisbeth-kk @raina-at @calaisreno
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Eddie’s been trying to help by attacking the other players’ tiles but he keeps blocking my own hand 😭
#kitty speaks#kitty plays#yakuza 4#mahjong#every time i moved him off the table he jumped back on it was an endless cycle
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𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐄 — gojo satoru
MDNI, f! reader, she/her pronouns used, wc: 3.3k, flashback of how you met (1st part of the fic, past tense used, then we jump back to present, divider used to separate the two timelines. both take place on his birthday btw), suguru makes an appearance (as satoru’s wingman :3), established relationship (you’re married & have a daughter), reader wears a dress, first time face sitting + riding (oral, f! receiving), pet names (baby, my love), he cums in his pants, breeding implied at the end (sort of, to avoid spoilers)
a/n: happy birthday to my biggest mental illness ♡
side note: if the story of how you met sounds familiar to you, please note that it was from one of my talk posts from a while ago & i decided to make use of it : )
what gojo satoru wants — he always gets.
after all, it’s how he made you his as well.
“satoru, you’re staring way too hard at her”, suguru nudged him on the arm.
“think she noticed, too?”, satoru chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, ears turning slightly red from embarrassment, unsure if it was because he got caught or that it was too obvious he was checking you out.
“very likely. i mean, it’s hard not to notice an annoying pair of blue laser beams persistently invading your space”, suguru mocked. “are you going to talk to her?”
“yes”, satoru firmly replied, without peeling his eyes from you, “i’ll ask her out, i think”
“hey, hey. slow down there”
“nope”, satoru shrugged, almost like a stubborn child disobeying his parent, “i’ve made up my mind — i really want to make her mine”
it was a pure coincidence, or some might say fate, that you ended up in the same restaurant — he was there celebrating his birthday with a small circle of friends while you were present to honor your colleague that had just gotten a promotion at work.
satoru’s eyes relentlessly followed your every move, every gesture, from the moment you walked in and settled on the table next to his. it was rather unusual for him to be this interested in someone simply upon sight, in fact, even desiring to pursue something with someone so immediately. it was always the other way around — women would flock to him because of his looks and peculiar behavior, and of course — his money — but he would turn them down without batting an eye. love and seeking romance were never a priority for him, he did not have time nor any interest in them. but here he was, contradicting himself, being blatantly distracted by your presence while somehow trying to simulate an active conversation with his friends, more than frequently averting his gaze to look at you, his brain busy coming up with a plan to get your number by the end of the night.
it didn’t take him too long to finally make his move. he stood up from his chair and walked over to your table, stopping right behind your seat.
“excuse me”, he leaned in, placing one hand at the edge of the table and the other — at the back of your chair, “hello”, his face mere inches away from yours. taken aback by the way he, a complete stranger, had the guts to get this close to you, you turned to face him with a questioning look.
“i felt like i would regret it for the rest of my life if i didn’t come say hi to you”, he spoke.
truth be told, despite being astounded and a bit put off by his approach, you were slightly intrigued. he was handsome, pretty even — like that one oddly eye-catching cloud in a sky full of thousands that you notice as soon as you look up. the white henley shirt he was wearing made the blue in his eyes pop even more, the v-neck revealing a little bit of his well-crafted chest, just enough to leave you tiny bit wondering about the ridges of his abs beneath.
as much as the scenery up close made your cheeks feel hot, his boldness rubbed you up the wrong way, too much to let it just slide, and you snapped. “is that so? well, now that you’ve said your hi, you can go back to your table and live with no regrets for the rest of your life”, you rolled your eyes skeptically, pushing his hand off the table.
“oh, i am sorry”, he chuckled, brushing his hair back with a hand, “but there are three more things i need to do before leaving, i’m afraid”
you raised an eyebrow, questioning.
“first, let me introduce myself — i am gojo satoru, also known as the man to be your boyfriend, then your husband, and then the father of your children”, he smugly said. your eyes widening at the audacity of his declaration that left you at a loss for words. “second, i hope you don’t mind introducing yourself as well — as you are to be my girlfriend, then my wife, and then the mother of my children — it’s only natural that i know your name”, he continued, “and last but not least — i am not leaving until you give me your number so we can make this all work”
wow. this man was really fucked in the head, you were sure of it — who in the right mind would speak such nonsense to someone they just met? “you have to be joking, right?”, you laughed in genuine disbelief.
“no. i am dead serious”, he replied in a heartbeat.
“is this your move? you pull this on everyone you find remotely attractive?”, you narrowed your eyes.
“actually—”, suguru interrupted, placing a hand on satoru’s shoulder as he approached from behind, “no”, he spoke. “believe me when i tell you this — he’s never been this smooth in his entire life. i know he probably came off a bit creepy, considering the boldness of his actions — hell, even i am creeped out because it’s pretty unusual for him to act like this”, he laughed, glancing at satoru to let him know that he got his back on this. “but, what i’m trying to say is — my friend here seems to really like you as i’ve never seen him be so intense and interested in anyone before. he’s also a birthday boy today — so could you at least give him a chance before turning him down so quickly? you can come sit with us before you make up your mind on whether you want to give him your number or not?”
you thought for a second, weighing the options in your mind — he was pretty, although he annoyed you a little bit by being all bossy and arrogant as if you were compelled to belong to him just because he said so. but there was just something about him you couldn’t quite put your finger on that made you question yourself. were you actually drawn to him? you could say “no” and never hear from him again, occasionally pondering over the what-if’s and should-have’s from this night; or you could say “fuck it” and see where this strange encounter goes, and live your life without regrets — as he would say. there — he was already getting under your skin…
“well”, you sighed, “guess i’m down for that”
by the end of the night not only did you give him your number, but also a promise for a date the next day — the first of many to follow after.
“careful, you’ll wake her up”, you whisper, leaning against the doorframe of your 3-year old’s room and watching your husband place a soft peck on your daughter’s forehead.
“can’t help it”, he speaks quietly, “she looks like an angel”, before fixing the blankets around her, making sure she’s tucked in all cozily. “the nanny said she cried for papa while we were gone”, he puts a hand over his mouth to stop his lips from trembling, his eyes filled with nothing but love and tenderness, welling up and flowing from the corners.
“she’s such a daddy’s girl”, you sigh, a soft smile present on your face, “next year we can stay home and invite everyone else over — that way we won’t have to worry about missing her bedtime”.
“yea”, he hums, “let’s do that next year”, giving her one last kiss before turning off the night lamp and tiptoeing to you. “come on”, he puts a hand at the small of your back as you both walk out of the room.
“do you remember”, satoru speaks softly into your ear while walking behind you on your way to your shared bedroom, his front flat against your back, the hand at the small of it now circling around to rest over your navel, while the other — reaches for the handle of your bedroom door to push it open, “the night we first met on my birthday?”, he continues after carefully guiding you inside.
you stop in the middle of the room, his arms still wrapped around you from behind, your hands resting over his and playing with his knuckles.
“how can i not?” you chuckle, tilting your head back to let him rest his chin on your forehead, “that was one hell of a fortune telling you pulled on me back then”
“but i was right, no?”, he brushes his lips on your forehead before leaving a soft peck, “see — you’re all mine now, just like i said”, and then another, ”i made you my girlfriend first”, and another, “then i gave you my last name”, and a fourth one, “and then you gave me a beautiful daughter, made me a father”, before turning you around to face him.
“you partly owe it to suguru though — he eased me into the situation, unlike you”, you reply, humbling him like you always do. your head is nestled on his broad chest as one of his hands caress the back of it. still in his embrace, he slowly walks you towards the bed. sits at the edge of it and straddles you on his lap. his palms finding their way to the plush of your thighs draped over his, caressing them tenderly but needily as his fingertips press and then release against your flesh in quick repetitive motions.
“this is because i asked him to give me a hand in case you cut me off”, he admits, tilting his head to meet your lips, not to kiss but just to keep them brushing against each other as you speak. he loved doing this a lot.
“oh?”, you gasp into his mouth, pretending to be shocked to your core, “you wanted me so much that you of all people, the gojo satoru, had to ask someone else for help?”
“you have no idea. if that hadn’t worked, i would’ve fallen on my hands and knees and begged you to take me”, one of his hands reaching the side of your face, playing his fingers on the strands of your hair covering your cheek before tucking them behind your ear.
“hmm”, you doubt, “is that so?”, nuzzling your nose against his.
“mhmm”, he nods, “there’s nothing i wouldn’t do for you, i thought you knew that by now. it kind of hurts my feelings that you doubt me actually”, he acts offended, pursing his lips and turning his head to the side to face away from you.
“oh my, what have i done now”, you knit your brows and press your cheek against his, pretending to be very, very sorry about what you just said.
“you made the birthday boy sad”, he huffs a silly, somehow obviously forced, pout, “you’ve got to make it up to me somehow”
“i’d do anything to make the birthday boy smile again — just say the word”, you sweetly pamper, patting the top of his head.
“really?”
“really.”
“anything?”
“anything.”
“you promise not to go back on your word?”
“i promise.”
he pulls his cheek away from yours and looks you in the eyes, the blue in his shining with a darker shade of mischief now. and considering the smug smile on his face, you sigh — perhaps you just got yourself played, falling face down into his little trap.
“then”, he points at his own face, “sit on it”
to say you were surprised by his request would be a lie. he’s many times tried coaxing you into doing this in the past but somehow you managed to avoid it, part of you still shying away from it. it’s not like his tongue has never been inside you before. but riding it as if it were his cock seemed way more obscene in your head than anything you two have ever done previously — and you’ve done pretty much a lot.
“well”, you sigh in defeat, seems like the time has finally come, “today’s your lucky day”, you say as you get up from his lap and turn your back — a signal for him to unzip your dress — to which, of course, he immediately complies.
“as it should be”, his crafty fingers work the slider down, slowly peeling the dress off your body and letting it fall on the floor, followed by your lace thong and bra, “it’s my birthday after all”
“the way you always find a way to make things go your way gets on my nerves so much”, you turn around again and push him on the bed and slowly climb on top of him to straddle his chest.
“make a wish before you blow the candle”, you look down at him, your pussy close to his face, the scent of you tickling his nostrils, and he, instinctively almost, takes a deeper breath, rolling his eyes back and hissing with delight.
“freak”, you quickly look away, embarrassed, but he cups your cheeks, forcing you to look at him again, “i want you to look at me as you ride my face”, his voice comes out breathy, “will you do that for the birthday boy?”
you nod into his palms, “you’re insufferable” — “suffocate me then”, he coos through a grin, grabbing your knees to pull you forward until you’re above his face.
“jerk”, you say, but softly, as you lower your cunt on his willing mouth, landing your softness on his face in slow motion, immediately earning a throaty groan from him that shudders through your pussy lips.
satoru breathes deeply in and out with your heat on his mouth, the scent of you hitting his lungs and even below, reaching all the way down to his groin to further nurture his cock already throbbing in his slacks. his hand reaching down to unbuckle them slightly, to give more space for his hard-on to grow freely.
“mowe”, he muffles incoherently into your pussy, grabbing a handful of your ass cheeks to push you against his face, tilting his head up and down, jutting his jaw up and out to meet you.
you whimper at the friction, your clit bumping and rubbing against his nose as his lips are kissing your folds, his tongue slowly poking at your entrance with the tip before darting in — twirling around your walls — and out.
“nghh…s-sa-t-to—”, you barely cry out his name, tugging at his hair, mercilessly pulling him into your heat. as much as you hated to admit it, you loved this position. your embarrassment long gone and forgotten, you ride his face in a haze, your pussy getting wetter against his mouth and your movements — faster and harder each moment.
“heawen on my fongwue”, he groans. if he could speak properly right now, he would probably make the nastiest, dirtiest remarks, shamelessly walk you through every single thing he was feeling as you rocked your hips back and forth, grinding on his face. he would probably say something about your boobs, too. how they looked so pretty jiggling ever so slightly from the movement. he can’t speak right now, yes, but he can still get his thoughts reach you through actions — his hands run along your belly, gripping your breasts from below, squeezing and squishing them inside of his palms.
you clutch his hands with yours, “i can’t hold this position for too long”, and force them down on your hips for support. you hear him say something through a loud groan but it’s barely recognizable — most likely just him cursing “fuck” and “baby” from pleasure under your pussy, but also from the ego boost you just gave him — that he can make you weak but at the same time desperate enough to want to continue — despite your hips giving up — not only with his cock but his mouth alone, too.
you let him take over as you chase your high, weighing on his face as his hands grip on your hips, dictating your every move, composing the tune of your hips. his tongue is no more sliding in and out as he makes you grind harder on his face — it stays in, continuously licking your sweet spot clean.
“f-fuck, fuck, fuck…”, you curse loudly, reaching your hands to grab the head of the bed and hammer your pussy harder into his face, squeezing every last drop of strength left in your already cramping muscles until you cum, shuddering on his mouth.
“mfff”, he groans throatily into your hole, sucking and slurping your juices. his hips buck in the air, helplessly searching for friction to soothe his aching cock. his half-unbuckled pants are drenched with precum, leaking out from his tip through his boxers and out through the cloth of his pants, visibly staining them.
you can’t see but it’s easy to figure out from the way the bed bounces up and down as his ass meets the mattress after every time his hips fall down. “how cute”, you utter as you try to calm down your breathing, cunt still resting over his face.
his eyes are half closed, rolling back and hiding their blue away. all he needs is a little push, a little rub, you know it. you know it by the way his tongue has stopped moving inside you, by the way his hands have loosened the grip on your flesh, by the way his shortened moans have grown into one long and steady groan coming from the bottom of his throat — his entire brain solely focused on the muscles of his lower body that is searching, almost beggingly, for relief.
you lean your upper body back a little, just enough to make it easier to reach his shaft while still sitting on his face. “since you’re the birthday boy”, you drag your words out as you place your hand on his clothed cock, feeling the wetness that’s emerged from beneath against your palm, “i’ll give you a hand.”
his ass cheeks tense and squeeze as he presses his hips against your touch, ferociously rubbing his clothed cock on the flesh of your open palm. his groans get louder as he bucks his hips under your hand, pushing them up to meet your hand harder and faster each time — just the way he forces his cock into your tight cunt as he nears — until the last three thrusts that he always prolongs in order to properly and completely pump his seed out.
the inside of your hand feels hot against his clothed cock as he seeps himself out, the stickiness of his cum absorbing itself into the material of his pants and emerging through it to reach the skin of your palm.
you lift yourself up a little only to plop your body down next to his. his mouth, cheeks, chin, even his nose, are covered in his spit and your cum, all mixed in.
“shit, baby”, he laughs, breathing deeply in and out of his mouth, overwhelmed by the whole experience, “what the hell did you just do to me”
“do you really need me to verbalize what just happened”
“yes”
“no”, you slap his cheek with the back of your hand, softly, before rolling on your side to rest your head on the left side of his chest, kissing it tenderly. “happy birthday”
“it really is”, he whispers, tracing a heart shape over the skin of your exposed cheek with his fingertip, “with you, it always is”
“did your wish come true by any chance?”, you tilt your head to look at him.
“not yet. but i’ll work on it later tonight. for now, i’ll let you catch your breath”
“wait, wait.”, you raise a brow, “what’s that supposed to mean?”
“my love”, he clears his throat, “do you remember how i said, when we first met, that you’d be the mother of my children?”
“yea? am i not?”
“children”, he stresses.
“oh.”, it finally hits you.
“one more to go”
#ઈઉ — ai writes#[ ♡ ] — satoru#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru smut#gojo smut#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut
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Loyalty is Hot - Adam (Hazbin Hotel) x Fem!Reader SMUT
Request: "I was hoping for a fic where Reader is Adam's third wife and they meet Lucifer (maybe in a meeting?) and he states how he could take Reader from Adam as well. Adam is kind of internally panicking as Lucifer states what it took to take his other two wives until Reader gets all fed up and rudely puts him in his place. Causing Adam to get all hot and bothered for his wifey and their loyalty?"
Contents/Possible Warnings: P in V sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, praise kink, creampie, semi-public sex (they fuck in a meeting room), Adam being himself, creampie, slight angst, SMUT, MDNI
You hated meetings, or waking up for them more specifically. It seemed that every time your husband dragged you to one it was at the earliest time possible, a time you'd much rather be spending in bed with him, enjoying the time of day where Heaven was at its most peaceful. It was also the time of day when Adam, sleepy and in a loving mood, was least annoying (which pained you a bit to admit, especially considering how much you loved him.)
"Hey! Wake the fuck up, babe! Don't fall asleep on me, not here." Adam nearly shouted, gently poking at you before you fell asleep on his shoulder in the meeting room. You opened your eyes with a sigh, keeping your head rested against your husband.
"Who are we even meeting with? More importantly, why haven't they shown up yet? It's been at least an hour," You questioned, a rising annoyance in your voice. Adam had sprung this meeting on you at the literal last minute, saying something along the lines of 'I need to show off my hot-as-fuck wife,' before practically dragging you out of bed; no more information given. Being the good wife you were, you accompanied him, albeit with some complaining. The last thing you were expecting, however, was for the meeting to be in Hell.
"We're meeting with Lucifer," He explained, the wide grin on his face shown on his mask. "I can't wait to see that fucker's face when he sees how sexy you are and realizes that you're all mine." One of his hands moved down to place itself on your thigh as he leaned in, smirking. "Who knows, maybe I'll even bend you over and fuck you right here on this table while he—"
You glared at him, smacking his hand away with a hiss of his name. He drew it back, letting out an amused laugh. "We are here on business," You reprimanded, an upset frown on your face. "Could you at least save the horny talk for after the meeting? Y'know when we're not in Hell?" Despite your reaction, you had to admit that the idea your husband had conjured up was kinda hot when you thought about it more in depth.
Fuck, you could see it now, feel it even. Back pressed against the table while your husband loomed over you, beautiful golden eyes staring into yours as you spread your legs for him. His thick cock sinking into you slowly, only for him to start with a quick, animalistic pace–just the way you liked it. Fuck, and the way his hands would reach out, grabbing at whatever he could; your ass, tits, thighs, anything that was soft and grabbable.
You hadn't realized the blush that had spread across your face until you saw your husband's smug grin. "Awww, did that turn you on, baby?" He cooed, almost mockingly. "Remember what you said, 'Save it for after the meeting.' Can't jump on me just quite yet." He leaned back in his chair, the grin on his face only growing as you shot him a harsh glare. As much of a lover of sex as he was, Adam loved teasing you even more.
You opened your mouth to argue back at him, slightly embarrassed by his use of your own words against you, but you were cut off by the sound of the door opening and closing. You turned your head, spotting the King of Hell himself. He looked just the way Adam had always described: pale white skin, rosy red cheeks, golden hair, noseless, and short. So short.
You stood from your seat as Lucifer approached the table, the sound of his boots against the tile of the floor filling the otherwise large, quiet room. You smiled, holding out a hand to shake, your typical behavior for business matters, regardless of who it was. "Hello, Your Majesty," You greeted politely, earning an eye roll from your husband next to you.
Lucifer returned your smile with one of his own, taking your hand and shaking it. "Who might this beautiful angel be, Adam?" He questioned, pressing a light kiss to your hand before letting it go and sitting down. Adam smirked as you sat back in your seat next to him, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you in close; not letting his annoyance at Lucifer's small display of affection be visible on his face.
"This is (Y/N), my wife. She's gorgeous, isn't she? A real hottie. Did I mention she's my wife?" He introduced, taking pride in having you by his side. Lucifer glanced at you, looking unamused by Adam's obvious boast before smiling at you. "Well, I certainly hope she's happy with you. Y'know, considering your history with your other wives." He antagonized, covering it up with a polite tone.
Adam's smile faltered. A sensitive topic had been brought up, one that challenged your husband's confidence. You looked between the two, taking note of how they glared at each other with mutual hatred. Lucifer turned his attention fully onto you, leaning in slightly. "Tell me, dear. Does he even satisfy you? Are you happy with him?" You opened your mouth slightly in shock, taken back by the sudden, blunt questioning.
"Fuck you! Of course she's happy with me!" Adam growled. "She's not like those last two bitches who'd settle for you of all people, you short fuck." Despite his assertion, you could hear the doubt in his voice, like he was trying to convince himself of it, too. Lucifer grinned, sharp teeth on full display, not affected whatsoever by your husband's burst of anger.
"It's not my fault that your wives like me better, Adam," Lucifer replied snidely. "All it took for Lilith was a man who did more than the bare minimum, and as for Eve, all it took was giving her a choice of who she wanted to be with for once, and that someone certainly wasn't you."
Lucifer then motioned to you. "I wonder what it'll take for me to win your third wife over, probably not much, to no fault of her own. You're probably leaving her just as unhappy as you did the last two, Adam." You watched as Adam tensed up at Lucifer's words, any confidence now gone as he struggled to keep up his self-absorbed facade.
"T-Thats not true," He stuttered, one of the few times you had ever seen him do so in all of the years you had known him. The drop in Adam's demeanor was the final straw, and you calmly got up from your seat. Both men's eyes followed you, watching your movements closely. Even with the mask on his face, you could see the fear in your husband's eyes as he watched you approach Lucifer.
"Honey? Baby?" Adam called out to you, watch as your face morphed into one of pure anger; a sight that even scared the King of Hell himself. They both knew that you were far from happy, and that was never a good thing.
"First of all, Lucifer," You hissed, saying his name with pure malice. "I am not Lilith, nor am I Eve. I may have been created with the same purpose in mind, but let it be known that we are far from similar." You slowly got closer to him, almost like a predator stalking its prey in the most terrifying way possible. "Second of all, yes I am happy. Clearly happier with Adam than Lilith was with you, considering how she up and left you and went only God knows where. I also don't see Eve around."
Lucifer's smile fell for the first time that day, and with it, his pride. Adam watched in astonishment as you continued to put Lucifer in his place. "Finally, I need you to understand that you're far from being my type. You're a coward who barely governs his people, yet so proudly calls himself the boss. Then you waltzed in here acting like you knew me better than I know myself, even when we had just met. I love Adam with every fiber of my being, even if he's the most obnoxious jackass I've ever met."
You got even closer, causing Lucifer to lean back in an attempt to escape you. "Oh, and for the record—" You leaned into his ear. "Adam fucks me better than I'm sure you've ever fucked anyone else in your pathetic life. So, yes, he does satisfy me." You whispered. You pulled back suddenly, a smile on your face. "Is that understood?"
Lucifer gulped, nodding in reply. "Lovely." You grinned, moving back to Adam. "Now, I'm afraid we're out of time. We'll have to reschedule this meeting for another day, preferably with someone else. Maybe you can send someone in your stead? Someone who's more politically involved in your Kingdom's workings, perhaps."
Lucifer let out an awkward laugh, standing up before making his way to the door, mumbling something about how we would send his daughter instead next time, before leaving. You stood triumphant, hands on your hips as you watched his departure.
"I—" Adam began, almost at a loss for words. "Are you aware how fucking hot that was!? Holy shit—" He pulled you down into his lap, pulling his mask off before crashing his lips against yours, kissing you eagerly. He pulled you down by the hips, grinding you against him, causing you to feel his growing hard-on through the fabric of his robes. "Fuck–Please, I know you said we have to wait, but please please please let me fuck you right here. Need you now."
You grinded down, a moan escaping both of you. "Why don't you do what you said you'd do earlier, hmm? Fuck me right here on this table, Adam." He bent you over the table, and you let him pull your skirt up just enough for him to be able to then tug your underwear off, tossing it aside somewhere in the room.
"Impatient today, aren't you, hon?" You teased playfully, looking back to find him not even bothering to take off his robes, choosing to pull them up instead. He chuckled, placing his hands on your hips as he lined himself up with your entrance. "Seeing you put annoying little fucks like Lucifer in their place does things to me, baby." He purred, thrusting in.
You let out a gasp at the feeling, his thick cock stretching you out perfectly. His pace was quick from the start, hips snapping against yours as the sound of it all filled the room. "I bet Lucifer couldn't fuck you like this now, could he? No, you need a real man to show you who you belong to." Adam groaned, kissing and nipping at your neck.
"H-He could never," You stuttered, struggling to speak as your mind went foggy from pleasure. "I need—Oh, fuck!" You let out a cry as his fingers found your clit, rubbing at it. "That's a good girl, let all those pretty little noises out." He praised, the sound of your moans more beautiful than any Heavenly choir to him.
"You're so much better than those other whores," He moaned, pounding into you, eyes screwed shut in pure ecstasy. "My perfect fucking wife, the love of my life—Shit—" He let out a growl as you clenched down on him. He let out a sweet laugh, hands moving up to grab at your tits while he fucked into you. "Oh? The praise turns you on, huh? You should be honored to receive it from me."
A mix of your moans and his spread throughout the room as you both drew closer to your climaxes, your shared noises growing louder and louder by the second. "Fuck," He cursed, his thrusts losing their rhythm as he rutted into you. "Gonna cum, 'm gonna fill you up. Maybe I'll even put a baby in you just to show Lucifer how in love with me you are."
"Do it—" You begged, legs quivering as he angled his cock in just the right way for the tip to graze your sweet spot. "Cum inside me Adam, let them know that I'm yours. All yours—A-Adam!" Your orgasm hit you with sudden force, the feeling coursing through you.
"Yesyesyes! Feels so fucking good cumming around me—" The sensation of your pussy contracting around him during your orgasm pushed him over the edge, and he came, shooting thick ropes of cum deep inside of you.
You rested your face against the table, no longer able to hold yourself up by your arms after the energy your climax had used up. Your orgasm subsided, but your body still shook, lightly trembling from the enjoyable onslaught it had just endured. You took deep breaths as Adam pulled out of you, feeling his cum leaking out of your well-fucked cunt.
He pressed soft kisses to your neck, holding you as you both basked in your post-orgasmic bliss together. "I love you," He mumbled against your neck, smiling. "You seriously have no idea how grateful I am for you to be my wife. You're absolute perfection, sweetheart." He pulled himself off of you, sitting back in his chair, a satisfied smirk on his face. "You think some sinner scum is gonna have to clean our mess up? That shit would be hilarious."
You sighed, shooting him a harsh look that he only laughed at. "Adam," You warned. "Have some respect, would you?" He laughed again, pulling you down into his lap, grinning. "Respect? Baby, we just screwed in a fancy meeting room. We are past the point of failing to show respect."
He leaned in closer to you, mischief in his golden eyes. "Now, why don't we go for a round two?"
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel adam#hazbin hotel adam x reader#hazbin adam#hazbin adam x reader#hazbin hotel smut#hazbin hotel x reader smut#hazbin smut#hazbin hotel fanfiction#adam hazbin#hazbin hotel adam smut#adam hazbin hotel#smut#adam x reader#adam x reader smut#hazbin hotel x y/n#hazbin hotel x you#mdni#💫mimicwrites💫#banner by cafekitsune#hazbin hotel adam x you#hazbin hotel x female reader#hazbin hotel x fem reader#hazbin hotel x fem!reader#fem reader#fem!reader#female reader
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shut up. imagine bimbo reader finding some dumb brute, thinking that’s all the love she deserves:( and soap finding her at the same bar, draped around that dude’s arm.
bimbo reader deserves a happy ending idc :(((
c/w: mistreatment towards reader, slightly misogyny, groping, happy ending for reader and johnny <3
he’s devastated when he sees you, sees what’s become of the beautiful girl he once had. that bright, charming smile looks like it’s being forced onto your face every time the dickhead your with makes some degrading joke about you in front of his friends, roughly nudging you when you don’t laugh
his arm is snug around your shoulders, one hand groping your chest. you try and squirm from his grip, clearly embarrassed from this treatment but he just tugs you further into his side, whispering something in your ear which makes you stop moving instantly
when you stand from the table, he raises his hand and slap you on your ass. the smack echoing through the bar and making you stumble in your heels. he shoves some cash into your hand and nudges you towards the bar
the fake smile on your face drops once you’re away from your new man, nervously shifting on your feet at the bar as the bartender clearly ignores you for some girl he’s trying to chat up instead of serving. johnny downs the rest of his drink before excusing himself from his table. he stands a few feet from you next to the bar, where you don’t see him
“oi, the lass is waiting!” johnny calls out to the bartender, who immediately rolls their eyes and walks over to begrudgingly take your order. you turn to johnny, prepared to thank the random stranger who helped you. but your small smile drops when you see him
“oh… it’s you. thank you.” you mumble, looking down at your feet. johnny frowns, shifting nervously on his feet
“no problem, hen. how’re ye? ye look good…” he says and his throat suddenly feels dry. you look like you don’t want to talk to him and it eats him up inside. your eyes flick back up towards him, looking up at him through your long lashes
“thanks. so do you…” there’s an awkward silence between the two of you and your grateful when the bartender finally places a beer in front of you
“ye drink beer now? ye always used to cringe when I offered you a sip of mine…” johnny chuckles, recalling how you used to refer to it as bread soda or something silly like that
“it’s not for me, it’s for my boyfriend. I left my purse at home and he doesn’t wanna pay for one of my ‘silly cocktails’.” you say with a small frown, shifting on your feet
“I’ll get ye a drink, doll. whaddya-“ johnny starts, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet but you grab his wrist to stop him
“you don’t have to do that. I have to get back to- oh.” you begin protest until you look over to your table to see some girl sat in your boyfriend’s lap, his hand planted firmly on her ass. johnny sees your lip wobble and his heart absolutely shatters in his chest
he knows he has no room to talk, he broke your heart and he’ll regret it for the rest of his life. he knows he was pathetic and he should’ve stood up for you. when he let you go, you took all the light in his life with you. he missed you terribly all day and dreamt about you every night
he hears a small sob escape your mouth before you turn on your feet, rushing to get out of the bar and away from him before you fully break down. johnny curses under his breath before running out after you
he finds you around the corner of the bar, hugging yourself as protection from the bitter midnight chill. he takes off his bomber jacket and drapes it over your shoulders when he comes up behind you. you jump and let out a little squeak, wiping your eyes when you turn around and notice it’s him
“I’m okay.” you sniffle, “he does this sometimes but he always says sorry and he’s really nice to me for the next few days!”
johnny doesn’t even know what to say to you for a second, settling for a quiet ‘oh, darlin…’
he pulls you into his arms, letting you cry against his chest whilst he pets over your hair. he presses a kiss to the top of your head, his strong arms slowly swaying you from side to side. “I’m such a fuckin’ dick, bonnie. shoulda never let ye go.”
you sniffle, “thought I wasn’t smart enough.” johnny shakes his head, hugging you tighter to his body. his big hand soothing up and down your back
“I’m clearly not the smart one if I make stupid decision like throwing you away, love. what kinda idiot am I to have given up the most amazing girl, eh? take me back, please, bonnie?” he pleads, pulling back slightly to be able to cup your cheeks and wipe your tears away with his thumbs,
“under one condition…” you sniffle, your lip jutting out in a pout. johnny nods his head eagerly, clearly ready to fulfill whatever major quest you’re going to give him
“anything, bonnie. anything for ye…” he says, his thumbs gently running over your cheekbones
“you go back inside and get my purse. I left it on the table and it’s my favourite one. and it’s got my juicy couture lipgloss in it.” you say, making johnny let out a a quiet chuckle, his eyes lightening up when he realises he’s got you back. he leans forward and places a few sweet pecks to your lips
“course.” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his car keys. “go wait in the car and i’ll get it.”
you nod and trot off, heels clicking against the concrete of the pavement on the way to his car. he watches you until your safe and in the car before heading back inside. he saunters over to your table and grabs your purse, tapping your now-ex boyfriend on the shoulder
“oi.” is all he says, waiting until he turns to face him before landing a heavy punch to the guys face, knocking him backwards. he doesn’t say anything else, tucking your purse under his arm and stomping out the bar and over to his car. a smirk on his face when he sees you clap in excitement when you see him holding your purse <3
#johnny mactavish#john mactavish x reader#captain mactavish#soap mactavish#john soap mactavish#soap mactavish x reader#john soap mctavish x reader#soap#soap x reader#mw2#cod mw2#bimbo!reader#genius!soap
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I just need you to know this story has had me in a chokehold and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I am enjoying writing it. This is gonna be a weird smutty slow burn, so still smut every post but full p in v sex will be a reward you have to work for?
⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall
Part 1 - Pretty in Redsmut💦
Part 2 - Liar smut💦
Part 3 - A Tragedysmut💦
Part 4 - Enough
Part 5 - Too Much
Part 6 - Learning smut💦
Part 7 - Recognition smut💦
A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.
「warnings/tags: HumanAlastor x FemaleReader, implied attempt to SA, fingering, plot with porn?, Multi part work, bad kind of choking, blood kink, blood licking, just in general blood, Non-Sex repulsed Ace Spectrum Alastor, stalking, murder obvs, finger sucking, smoking kinda kills if you squint, Public sex acts, garter belt, You have a stage name but no one important uses it, Greed, Lust, Human Alastor is a little different than Demon Alastor. 」
minors dni 💅🏽
Part 1 Pretty in Red
The marriage between burlesque and jazz wasn’t unexpected. Before the Great Depression took the nation into a stranglehold, both Jazz and Burlesque were immoral wastes of time only the most barbaric sought out.
And oh, did you love it. Everyone who was made to feel like nobody flocked to your theater and the surrounding neighborhood. Men, women, the people who didn’t agree with either. The biblically inclined, those closer to sodom, the sapphic dolls. Everyone was equal in the halls of jazz rooms and theatres where burlesquers were welcome.
Because of the inclusive nature of such places, you often saw familiar faces. It wouldn’t be unusual for someone from Thursday night to be seen Saturday at a different locale.
That presented certain opportunities and challenges. When you found a good mark, it was easy to be wherever he was and play it off as fate and common interests.
And when you gained a new stalker, someone wanting a personal show, it could be hard to tell until it was too late.
Maybe it was your greed, or just your love of attention, but you found yourself focused almost entirely on a particularly well dressed man one evening. You’d seen him around before. Clean cut, sharp suit, a welcoming smile always on display. He looked like he had money, the most attractive quality of any man you could meet.
So focused on his gleaming stare from the side booths you hadn’t noticed the man at the stage front tables. You barely noticed him the night before, or the night before that, either. Because Smiles, as you took to calling the handsome stranger in the back, had been here three nights now too.
You really put on a show. Shimmying your hips, ostrich feathers following suit with every move. Your brassiere was heavy with shining rhinestones, panties of silk and lace. Your set was almost done, all that was left was to remove your top and slink away behind the curtains to hollers and whistles. Back turned, you unhooked the painful bra and let it fall to the stage with a clunk. Foot in front of foot, you stalked the stage length. With your hand hidden from view you took the feathered fan from the stagehand behind the curtain. As the music crescendoed you turned, fan unfurling just in time to hide yourself.
Groans, mass begging from the audience. Your stage name a chant now, a prayer. “Autumn! Come on!”
As the band slowed, music dying to mark the end of your number, you scanned the crowd. Eyes blinking coyly, you mouthed, “More? Did you want more?”
People were jumping to their feet, not Smiles but that was fine, you were focused now on the adoration of the crowd. The music ended, a second of silence.
You winked, the drums hitting one last beat as you let the fan close.
Fanfare! Men whistling, women clapping. Someone shouted a marriage proposal. You took a bow, twirled on the balls of your feet and slipped gracefully behind the curtains.
Your hands wound to your spine, rubbing blood flow back into your skin as the staff removed your headdress. Someone slipped your robe over you and you nodded a thanks, aching feet carrying you to the dressing room. It was chaos, as usual. Women buzzing around, tits and ass here and there. You smiled. You happened to enjoy this part of the job. Soft bodies in shiny costumes, lovely smells and sweet voices. If you could get dressed quickly enough, you could still take a tour of the room and slide into Smiles’ booth.
“Enjoy the show?” You’d ask. He’d lean in, maybe blush, “Always when you’re here.” Or something like that. You’d cozy up to him, flag down a waiter for something strong and pricey, and get him properly drunk. He’d wake up outside, fine and dandy except his missing cash.
You’ll call him a drunkard if he confronts you, accuse him of getting himself robbed after you refused his advances. You’ll say it too loudly, and he’ll run off.
You danced a little in your seat, another game of cat and mouse about to commence. But first, a smoke.
Unbeknownst to you, the well dressed man hadn’t come to see you. He preferred your singing shows at the little dive bar two blocks over. No, he had come for the man at the front table. For weeks now, he had watched him harassing the ladies of the few joints in New Orleans that weren’t regularly hounded by police. Your smiley mark even heard stories of unsavory acts, many women leaving the dance scene entirely after.
He didn’t care for it. He didn’t care for him. So he took to his hunt, following the man to come to his own conclusions. The pattern of behavior was obvious, and though he hadn’t seen what ended the last obsession, it was clear one of the performers at this club was being stalked as the next victim.
He watched your dance with half lidded eyes, just as much as he watched the man give dirty looks to the other men cheering. Heard the, “Marry me!” shouted at you.
Yes, it was obvious to him now.
So when the target of his interest got up and pushed his way into a staff only door, well, the well dressed man was sure to follow.
The great thing about confidence and a nicely tailored suit is that no one questions you about why you are where you are. So while the brute he tailed had to shove past people to get wherever he was going, people smiled and made room for the gentleman who was not far behind.
He caught the street access door before it closed, allowing it to stay open just a sliver. Enough for one golden brown eye to watch the events unfold.
“Can I have a light?” The stranger asked you. You looked at him, then to the staff only entrance he just came out of.
“I don’t think I know you….,” you handed him the lighter but he instead leaned into you, cigarette hanging from his lips. “You… new?”
You sparked the flint with a practiced thumb, taking three tries to get it lit, and put your hand out. The man didn’t budge, eyebrows rising, “You really don’t recognize me?” He asked, motioning with his hand to come closer. Your eyes glanced down the alley, cars slowly moving past the street. When you looked back, the man took your wrist in his hand. He held you so tightly that the muscles in your palm locked and you dropped the lighter.
“What the fu-,” his hand came across your face, halting your sentence.
“I’m your best customer. Every show. I’m the one who brings flowers.”
Dozens of men bring flowers, especially on the weekend shows. You held your cheek, skin burning. Your hand pulled back, the corner of your lip bleeding from his rings. Scrambling, your mind was searching for the right words.
With a forced smiled, your shaky voice finally piped up, “Oh! Yeah! Oh geez. I am so sorry, doll. I’m just so tired, and the alley is so dark. Here, let’s go inside so I can get a better look at you.” You tried to take your wrist from him but he didn’t loosen up.
“Nah, you ain’t tricking me. You owe me.” He pulled you into him, large hand gripping your face with ease, “You can’t lead on men like this and think you don’t gotta answer for it.” He kissed you, forcing your face into his. “Bitch! Did you fucking bite me?” He threw you into the tin trash cans beside the wall, knocking the wind out of you.
No purse, no sharp object, not even a heeled shoe to defend yourself with. You cursed, so preoccupied with Smiles you forgot your wits.
You spit out the copper saliva, his blood and yours. “I’ll keep biting, too.”
Why scream? The sounds of the next act were bouncing off the brick walls. Upbeat jazz and applause echoing around you. No one would hear you. Men can break your body but you never had to give them your dignity. Never give them the satisfaction of a response.
No. No screaming. You instead spent your energy trying to get to your feet. He took hold of your neck now, throttling you. It wasn’t what you had expected, but as he lifted you off the ground and your little dressing room slippers fell off, you thought this was actually better.
“Well I think that’s quite enough.”
You felt warmth, then registered wetness. Your shin scraped on the asphalt as you were dropped without warning. Trying to open your eyes, you found you couldn’t see. Wiping and blinking away the foreign liquid, you watched your attacker fall to his knees.
Blood was shooting from between his fingers around his own neck, each pulse becoming weaker and weaker, evident through the stream.
When he finally fell over, drained, you were startled to see another man with you. The light reflected off his glasses as he adjusted them, the knife still in his right hand as he did so.
“My, my. What a mess he’s made.” The man smiled down at you, offering a hand. When you didn’t immediately react, he cocked his head to the left, “Is that anyway to treat your rescuer?”
Is that was this was? A rescue? You took his hand with both of yours, pulling yourself up.
Smiles? You blinked away the shock, time to shift into your next part. Damsel. You weren’t out the woods yet.
“You saved my life!” As you pressed yourself into his chest, you tucked your head beneath his chin. You tried to make yourself small. “I owe you! Please let’s go inside, drinks on me!” You looked up, batting your lashes.
“I don’t think that’s wise, dear.” His gaze panned down your dress, soaked through. He could see the thinking behind your eyes.
“No, right….,” You gripped his vest, “We gotta get outta here, fast. There’s a hotel just behind the threatre.” You started to pull his suit jacket off, slipping it over yourself. “No cops, the theatre will get raided. Just— take me somewhere safe?”
You watched him look you over, arm finally extending to let you hook yours with his.
As soon as the hotel door closed behind you, you slipped off his jacket and ran to the dressing table mirror.
Your face was painted red, navy dress now black and sticky. It was good you stayed from view of the reception staff. “I didn’t get my rescuer’s name,” you licked your thumb and rubbed at the blood around your cheeks.
“Alastor. It’s a pleasure.”
You laughed, “Is that what you call a pleasure?” Turning, you pulled the mostly still dry handkerchief from your pocket and dabbed the corner on your tongue. You brought it up to the frame of his glasses and wiped the blood from the metal. “I’d hate to see what you call a bad time.”
Your hand slowed, noticing the way he was looking at you. Typically men’s pupils were blown when they fell on you, but his were constricted. They flitted around your face. His hand took hold of yours, fingers separating the thumb from the handkerchief. He pulled the little square of yellow fabric free with his other hand, allowing him to hold your thumb now by itself.
His lips opened, tongue licking the blood stained finger before placing it directly into his mouth.
Your stared, horrified, as he sucked the digit clean.
His eyes fluttered close, finger popping out of his mouth with a debauched sound. You made no attempt to take back your hand. The realization you may have hopped out of the frying pan and into the fire set in.
“You are a funny one, aren’t you?” You tried to sound as in control as possible. Calm. Unwavered. Offered a timid smile.
He chuckled, “You could say that. May I?” His fingers lifted your chin. You didn’t know what he was asking. His soft smile looked downright loving. He smelled so good, notes of something earthy rising above the copper.
You nodded, because part of you wanted to see where it would go. And part of you thought you didn’t have a choice.
As his face came to yours, you instinctually closed your eyes expecting a kiss. But no, instead you felt his tongue wipe across the cut at the corner of your mouth. His breath blanketed your cheek. Then his hand left your chin, the warmth of his body gone entirely.
You opened your eyes to see him at the door, slipping back into his jacket, “I’ll pay for the night.” He tipped his head to you and exited the room back first, eyes locked with yours until the door closed.
You just stood there in the silence left behind. But as if on cue, the adrenaline waned and your knees buckled under you. You were moments from death, now somehow spared. But what had he— Alastor, been doing there? Did he follow you, too? The cat and mouse had been flipped, or perhaps now this was a fox and hound?
Gripping the dressing table, you pulled yourself up and into the view of the mirror again. Face streaked in dried blood save for the one clean spot where your lips met cheek.
You felt like a ghost the next day. It would be nice to tell someone about what happened but, “Hey a man tried to kill me and then another man killed him! Then he licked blood off my face and I let him. It was the most disturbingly erotic thing to happen to me in months!” would get you tossed into a wagon.
“Are you rude or just stupid?” The theatre manager pulled you aside by the arm when you came into rehearsal. “You can’t just disappear like that, people were waiting.”
Your eyes narrowed, “Was… my absence really the most exciting part of the evening? Not the John in the gutter?”
He huffed, “So that’s it? Got a beau?”
“Wait— nothing else happened last night? After I left?”
“This show doesn’t revolve around you. Plenty happened.”
“Excuse me,” you hurried into the back, “And sorry!”
You opened the street access door and looked into the alley. Trash cans neat and tidy, no dead man, nothing strange or telltale.
You ducked back inside. Had Smiles done this? Obviously, actually. No stranger just cleaned up the dead body. If the flatfeet had found him, the club would have been under scrutiny.
Good, you thought, and went about your work.
Rehearsal dragged on. Little details summoning you back to the night before.
“You okay?” Another performer asked, grabbing your hand and inspecting the blood around your cuticles.
“Oh it’s not mine!” You laughed, she laughed, you walked off before she could clarify.
When applying your makeup, you remembered his hands on your face. They were so soft. Definitely a man of means. A brief intrusive thought, the other hands on your face last night.
You pranced on stage, going through the motions of your routine. Even in the empty hall, your eyes wandered to the booth he’d been in. And as you took the stage in earnest later that night you searched the crowd for the glint of his glasses and found nothing shiny nor promising.
Back in the dressing room you took a moment to wonder what the actual fuck you we’re doing. He murdered a man in front of you, why were you hoping to see him again? He had half a mind to kill you next.
But would that really be so bad? Your life was routine, boring even. The only thing keeping your lungs expanding was the applause. Maybe the headlines of your death would cause such an uproar, dancer struck down in her prime, that you could bask in the loving glow all the way from hell.
One way to remain famous, you considered. A dramatic death.
Not that you were famous. You weren’t part of the national circuits. Just your local theatres, a common face and body to the sinners of Louisiana’s most infamous city. But, well, fame is relative. For the scene you were in, you were your own little star.
A shining light. Shimmering. The faint light reflecting off— Blood. For a second you could only remember looking through bloodied, heavy lashes.
“You’ve been so out of it. Trouble in paradise?” Ruth, the curviest of your coworkers and arguably the favorite of the crew, rested her chin on your head. Looking at each other in the mirror, you offered a soft smile.
“I’ll letcha know when I get there.”
She pinched your cheek, “Tommy said you had a new guy. I just figured-,”
“That isn’t,” you clenched your eyes shut, “no, no guy. I just got locked out last night in the alley. The sticky-,” sticky and viscous blood, “back door wouldn’t open up. I didn’t want to come in the front in my slippers so I just hoofed it home.”
She patted your head, “if you say so! Be careful out there though. Dangerous these days.”
An understatement.
You enjoyed the spotlight, but more than that you craved the attention doted on you after. You’d walk through the hall to the bar to adoring looks and free drinks. It bothered you that Tommy was telling the girls you had a man. You didn’t want to appear too closed off, or for word to spread to the customers.
Last thing you needed was men passing you by for more available options. Not that the pay wasn’t fine. Ends were being met, but grifting added an element of thrill. You really did love the chase. Finding someone and deciding he would be yours, he would fall under your spell and be at your feminine mercy. It made you feel powerful, almost mythical. And the money was nice. Sometimes you didn’t even need to steal, the men would just lavish you in gifts and you’d let it fizzle out naturally. Normally their wives would snatch them back or they’d just get tired of waiting for you to leave the stage and dance into their domestic dreams. A housewife? An adopted mother to a grown man during the day, a hungry nymph at night? For what, an allowance and a home you didn’t own? Pass. Where’s that handsome man with his knife? That was a much better steel to fall onto than what these men offered from their laps.
From your view at the bar you knew he wasn’t there. But with a nod you decided the chase was still on. You were going to get your victory. If anything, this would be easier. You had dirt on him. Blackmail would be simple enough. Bloody clothes and the perfect alibi; being a woman. No cop would think you took down that hulking man.
Ah, right. There was no body.
That would be an issue. He had to have taken it somewhere. Just find him and follow. Worst case scenario, you play the usual game and steal whatever cash was in his wallet.
Well, worst case you die.
You slept sitting up to keep your hair set, during the day your makeup barely was there but a red lip always the star. You had three nice dresses (well, you had had four) so you figured three nights to find him before moving on.
You slinked through the crowds of the hot and sweaty dance club Moxie. Swinging music kept bodies moving, and though you kept your eyes open you didn’t catch sight of this Alastor fellow. Which was fine! You enjoyed a few dances, swing always making you feel energized. Not a waste of a Friday night.
Saturday was easy, the lounge on fifth. Smooth jazz, plush chairs, rich men. Definitely a place you could imagine Smiles to frequent. The whisky was all top shelf, and many gentlemen offered you a lap to sit. Sure, no Alastor, but you didn’t go home empty handed.
You weren’t a particularly great singer, but if the room was small enough and the piano loud enough, you could please a crowd. Your friend had you on a semi-set schedule most Sundays at her little dive too many blocks from Main Street. Her darling played piano, you sat and sang to the couple dozen patrons stuffed into the one room bar. When you finished your set, you took your bows and looked for your friend. You needed to tell her you wouldn’t be staying.
Your polite nods and gracious thank yous were abruptly ended by a tap on your shoulder, “You dropped this, miss.” You did a mental check of your purse before turning around.
“Oh, a sight for sore eyes. Mr. Alastor.” Your face lit up, you could see it in his glasses.
“You’re too kind. Here, I apologize for the delay. I wanted to return them clean.” In his hand was your yellow handkerchief, folded neatly. You took it and found it uncharacteristically heavy.
When you unfurled it, your brass lighter fell into your waiting palm. Your thumb caressed the engraving.
Alastor watched your face as the lighter tumbled out. “I figured it was important, given the condition and detailing.”
You tested the weight in your hand, “Did you fill it?” You looked to him incredulously. He nodded.
It was a surprisingly kind act, and you needed a second to regain your composure. “I don’t know how to thank you.” Your quick wit failed for a moment, but rebounded fast. “Except with a drink. My treat. To my rescuer.”
He mulled the idea, your reaction to him was interesting. Alastor had thought if he approached you first you’d show a little more fear, or shock. But you looked downright chipper to see him there.
“Unfortunately I don’t have much time tonight. I had just wanted to return your items.”
Your smile dropped. How did he know you were here? Had he been carrying— no, he said he had them cleaned. Had he seen you here before, before the incident? A chuckle, smile brought back, “My luck is terrible. You always flee me. I hope you don’t see my company as deadweight.”
Alastor’s smile twitched, eyes hidden behind the glare of his glasses, “Not at all! I think you’d find I’m quite comfortable with-.”
“Lugging people around?” You said. That constricted pupil again, eyes wild. A chill ran down your spine. Alarms were going off. Wrong answer. You straightened your back, popping the items into your purse, “Next time.”
Alastor nodded, “Yes. Next time, then.”
You fucked it up. You knew you had, but suddenly his words felt like a thinly veiled threat.
You turned to leave and hadn’t seen his smile sour.
It hadn’t been a threat. He hadn’t anticipated you to notice the implication. Most people would have been so blinded by his charm they would fail to notice the glaring red flags. He was mildly impressed. You would be more trouble than he had expected.
Alastor knew he needed to do something about the clearly clever woman who was seemingly expecting him. He had followed you for several days, surprised to find you not spreading word about the murder. You hadn’t spoken to anyone, really. Even the man you left the lounge with, you just smiled and nodded nearly all evening while the man dominated the conversation. So, your sharp wit took him off guard. Who were you pretending to be? And why?
All of your cleverness fell apart when you tried to follow him. It was almost comical. He felt bad. This was going to be embarrassing for you.
He took several right turns and stepped into the park just outside of the bar. You thought perhaps he had gotten lost and considered turning around after you realized you’d lost sight of him. As you passed a large weeping willow, you were pulled under the curtains of hanging moss by your waist.
Back against the large tree, you could only pout.
“What are you after, stalking a man in the dead of night?” Alastor had you pinned, both hands on either side of your head. His body boxed you in, not that there was much more to see than moss and darkness.
You blinked several times. What a question. You answered honestly, “You.” He cocked a brow. Then you lied, “Your affection. Your time.”
Something akin to a giggle bubbled from his chest. “I don’t have much affection, but I have even less time.” Your eyes darted around, looking for your next move. “I-,” you grabbed him by the face and kissed him. When you broke the kiss he was staring wide eyed, glasses askew. He opened his mouth to speak and you kissed him again, longer, harder.
He seemed frozen under your mouth, lips taut. Your hands roamed his face, messing up his hair and glasses. Mind reeling. Play the nymph. Be the whore the men always said they hated. Be too strong, too forward, too much and he’ll run off like men do. You could try again another day.
Your hand reached for his lap, his hips instinctively jerking away. Perfect. Men these days can’t get it up for a woman who takes the lead.
Alastor was entirely unsure what the fuck was happening. You were wildly unpredictable. When you grabbed at his dick, he thought his eyes would cross from the shock. Is this what ‘affection’ meant to you? He couldn’t understand it. Couldn’t understand you. Were you really just lustful? Even after what you’d seen him—
You bit at his bottom lip, pulling slightly. Big eyes looking back at him. Your breath was already running away from you, adrenaline seemingly synonymous with Alastor. Staring up at him, you waited. His move.
It was his turn to blink. He looked off to his left, eyes swinging back to you. With a shrug, he leaned his body back towards yours. His hand slid down the front of your dress; red silk. A deer in the headlights, you tensed. The rare third option; fight, flight, freeze. Soon his fingers were tracing the lace of your stockings, climbing up the garter straps.
His eyes were studying your face. You didn’t want to give the wrong answer again, but at this point you weren’t sure any answer was right. This was taking a sudden turn and your foot was off the brake. You closed your eyes, opting out of the scrutiny of his stare. His hand met your stomach and began to slip down again. He rested it between your thighs, longer fingers and palm cupping the entirety of your sex.
Alastor struggled to decipher your expression. It was almost like a pout, but more subtle. You hadn’t said stop or pushed him away yet. Was he right? You were just… horny? As his hand slid back up and pried their way into your panties, you trembled.
It had been so long since someone else’s hand was on you. Someone whose hands you genuinely enjoyed, who you wanted to be on you.
Is that right? You wanted him to touch you?
Maybe it was the stare, or the smile. Probably just the adrenaline.
His hand found its place again, middle finger bending to part your folds and feel your wetness. You whimpered, hand coming to cover your own mouth.
“Is this what you wanted?” He said it low, a husky tone he didn’t have before.
No. Maybe. You nodded yes.
“Will you be satisfied now? No more tailing me?”
No. Probably not. Another nod.
His finger pushed in, and with a kind of greed you didn't recognize your hips ground down into his palm. He slipped in and out of you with ease. You had no idea when or why you got so wet.
“I always end up dripping around you, Alastor,” you whispered through your fingers. His ring finger joined. Why couldn’t you shut up? Why did you have to bring up, well, the murder?
“A common problem for those I take an interest in.”
Oh no. You moaned softly into your hand. Sharp mind made dull by his fingers so you didn’t, couldn’t, process his double meaning.
Oh no. The sounds of footsteps, a pair of lovers sneaking into the park for privacy. You heard their giggles, the sounds of kisses interrupting their walking.
“Shhh”, he breathed into your ear as he worked a third finger into your heat. One knuckle, two knuckles. A whimper. His hand came to press down over your own on your mouth, a second barrier for your mewling. You groaned, the sound coming from your throat.
Whispers. The silhouette of the two interlopers was visible through the willow’s curtains. You watched from over his shoulder, pussy clenching around him. Three knuckles deep, bottoming out.
Fuck it. You moaned freely into your hand, wiggling down onto his hand. Hips rolling, you let your little sounds of praise flow.
The couple laughed, “That’s the spirit!” A man said, a woman hushing him and pulling him away.
Alastor grinned into your neck, immensely amused. He would have better luck predicting a dice roll than your next move.
You hadn’t realized how hollow you’d been until now, feeling so full. When alone, you focused on just cumming, fingers on your clit and mind on memories. You never bothered much with anything else.
Your hunger intensified. You wanted more. Both hands reached for his crotch again, finding nothing there for you. You could have cried. How were you a wet mess pressed against a tree and he was soft as a newspaper in a rainstorm?
Your pride stung. Men usually stood at attention around you. A half sob into the air earned you a chuckle from Alastor. “It’s no reflection of you, darling.” His nose nudged your ear lobe, “I need a little different stimulation than most.”
“Do you play for the other team?” You considered how you could momentarily switch.
A louder laugh, “I don’t have a team.” He leaned back now to look at you. His freehand came to press on your lower stomach, gently pushing your womb down. Your brows knit, why did that feel so good? Hands going to the tree behind you for stability.
“Sure feels like you know how to play. This is-,” his hand switched from thrusting slowly in and out to moving front and back. It sent vibrations up into you. Your eyes rolled close. Shut up. Stop talking. Focus. Close.
He kissed around your open mouth, “Well, it’d be unamerican to not dabble. When necessary, or when the conditions are right.”
Double speak over, “Just tell me what to do to get you to fuck me.”
Alastor’s head fell back as he laughed earnestly, most likely alerting anyone in the immediate area. “Ha! No, this is more fun.”
“Oh fuck you,” you brought a hand around to your throbbing clit to quicken your release.
“Maybe next time, dear.” He took a second, fingers in you sliding around your walls in search of something before finding his place and continuing. Your breath noticeably changed, instead of panting you were practically holding it in. You needed the pressure, you needed something to squeeze that spring of pleasure down so it could snap back. As your face went flush, he kissed at your temple, “You look so pretty in red.”
“Oh god-,” Your head fell onto his chest, your joint effort bringing you to orgasm.
“A little late on Sunday for prayers, don't you think?”
A tiny scream into his suit pocket, his hand not stopping until your thighs finished twitching around him. Even after his hand stopped moving you gripped him by the wrist and rolled onto his fingers a few more times. The pleasure ebbing but still spiking every time he moved against you.
Ah, greed. That was it. He understood a little better. This wasn’t lust, not alone. You were definitely a mix of the two. With a sigh, you released your hold and let him slide out of you. Already you felt lonelier. Already you wished to start over.
With his dry hand he smoothed out your dress. You weren’t ashamed but you suddenly felt too embarrassed to look him the eye. But you did, hearing him hum as he sucked his fingers clean.
Why were you only ever in his mouth in the strangest ways?
“You always taste so sweet, dear. Now!” You wanted to say something clever and salacious like, ‘there’s more where that came from’ but he didn’t afford you the opportunity. He offered you his hooked arm, “It’s dangerous in the park at night. Let’s get you to a cab and on your way home.”
“Is this a hobby of yours?” Your legs were wobbly but otherwise fine. “Illegal activities in public?”
“Funny, I was just wondering the same of you. Stalking is a crime, dear.”
You bit your lip. “Touché.”
He flagged down a taxi, “Tell him where to go.” You slid into the back seat and half-whispered to the driver. Alastor leaned into the passenger side front window and after paying the man, went to close your door, “You’ve been an entertaining sparring partner. Goodbye, sweetheart.”
With a thud of the door and a growl of the engine, you were driving away from him. You could see him in the rear window. He didn’t dare to move, he didn’t need you following another step of his.
Which was unfortunate for him, as you were already scheming how to find him again.
༻Masterlist༺
∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):
@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,
@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @angelicwillows
🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan ,@valkyrie-expeditions
#hazbin hotel#alastor#alastor smut#alastor x reader#alastor x you#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel smut#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor x reader smut#hazbin hotel fanfiction#fanfiction#hazbin#x you#x reader#hazbinhotel#reader insert#reader fic#smut writer#smut fanfiction#human alastor#smut writing#x you smut
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Napping and Cooking
Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x Straw hat!reader
Characters: Vinsmoke Sanji, Straw hat!reader, Monkey D. Luffy, Roronora Zoro, Nami, Usopp, Arlong
Warnings: Fluff, fighting, the asshole Arlong, Sanji being subtlety flustered, you take lots of naps, Sanji being adorable as hell, everyone worrying over you, protect Nami plan is a go, Sanji being like a boyfriend but nothing's official
Word Count: 1,849
A/N: Reader sleeps a lot because her abilities take up a lot of her energy.
Reader also had a lot of hair and it sometimes gets in their face so she has to flip their head upside down and then back up or run their hand through their hair to see.
Reader has a jacket like Mihawk but it goes down to her knees otherwise she'll trip
This man... is something else
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You enter the restaurant and slip past the host in search of your crew. You can hear Luffy and know exactly where they are. You stand in front of the table, "you guys ditched me."
"You were still sleeping," says Luffy.
"You didn't wake me up," you tell them with a pout.
"We tried to," Nami tells you.
"You’re the one that wouldn’t wake up," Zoro adds, glancing at you; wondering if you’ll even make it through the meal.
-
Sanji glances your way and notices your figure standing in front of an unattended table.
He admires your jacket as he heads over.
-
"Fine, you tried. Now move over, stretchy." You try to move him only to fail, which your captain laughs at. You roll your eyes and walk over him, Usopp being kind enough to scooch over, so you have room.
You sit at the top of the booth. You didn't realize it, but you zoned out until Nami smacked your leg. Your jaw drops as you rub the spot. "Ow. Was that necessary?"
She gestures to the blond standing in front of the table.
"And for the madam?"
"What are we doing?"
Nami and Zoro roll their eyes.
"We're ordering our drinks," Usopp tells you.
"Ah, right. Water."
"And would the madam like stilled, sparkling, mineral? With ice or without? Cubed or crushed?"
The corner of your lip twitches. "Well, aren’t we sweet? You want to please all the ladies you, see?"
His head drops, he glances at the ground before looking back up, staring at you through his lashes and hair. "Only the ones who entice me with their beauty."
"I'll let you surprise me."
"Excellent choice, madam. You will not be let down."
"I know I won't."
"What was that?" Zoro asks.
"What?" You turn to him.
He starts rattling off everything Sanji said.
"He was being polite."
"To you," the orange haired girl mutters.
"Huh?"
"He only called me madam once and then you stole his attention. Clearly there was something about you that caught his eye."
"I don’t think so."
Every single kind of water he offered was brought to the table.
-
After Zoro loses the battle and the head chef along with the blond come in to help him, you two start talking each time he's here.
"I smell food," you lean against the doorway.
He chuckles, "I would certainly hope so. You're the only one who hasn't eaten. Are you worried that worried about your friend?"
"Of course, I'm worried about the idiot but not enough to lose too much sleep over him. My abilities take up a lot of my energy and sleeping helps me. I was napping."
He nods, "ah, now that makes sense." He glances up from the ingredients he grabbed. "Would you like to eat something?"
You nod, "I would, kind of why I came down here."
"I know. How do you feel about exposing your palate to an array of flavors?"
"I think I made a mistake."
He shakes his head, smiling. "Nonsense. I'm going to make you an unforgettable meal."
-
You were up on the roof when Argon and his crew entered.
You secure the rope around your waist before jumping down. "Why are you picking on people less than half your size?"
"Who are you?"
"Someone who's already kicked your bony nosed ass."
He growls, realizing who you are.
"You want to fight someone? Fight me," you smirk. "I'm a better opponent than stretchy." You tug at the rope, rolling it up. "Come on, then. Try to hit me."
He comes at you, and you dodge him.
Again.
And again.
And again.
He growls before his hand clamps down on your jacket (something you made sure happened on purpose).
"Don't touch my jacket."
"Why? You gonna cry if I do."
"No," you grab his hand and twist his wrist, "you might. Clone shift."
He's baffled at the sight of him, standing before him. "Stop it. Turn back."
"Nope."
He and Luffy are outside before you can stop him.
"Hey, you two idiots."
His crew turns to you, eyes widening at the sight of their captain even though he just walked out the door.
You punch the two of them hard enough for them to roll on the dock outside the restaurant.
-
You walk over to check on Sanji and Usopp, the former taking a big hit on his back.
"Are you two-" you groan and hold onto the railing as you shift back to yourself.
Blood catches the story teller's eye. "Did you take some of Zoro's cut?"
All the pain in his body left him as the blond urges forward to catch you.
"So, what? It's nothing. I can take it."
"You overexerted yourself enough already. Come on," Sanji says, helping you up.
"Are we going to help Luffy?"
"We are, you're not."
You let out a small disagreeing noise.
"Don't argue with me."
-
You all catch the sight of the energetic captain falling into the water and rush over.
Sanji's quicker than you and takes action. He throws off his shirt and jacket before diving in.
You force yourself to stay awake and not pass out.
His head pops up back in the surface.
Usopp helps haul the rubber man onto the dock.
You hold a handout for the chef, but he doesn't take it. "Where's Nami?"
"She's gone. She's apart of Arlong's crew," Usopp tells Luffy.
Sanji's body slumps down, his butt resting on the heels of his feet.
Dots cloud your vision and your feet sway, you knew the second you cloned, you were done.
Sanji and Usopp catch you before you could fall.
The blond man leaning down to listen to your heartbeat and make sure you're- "She's still breathing."
"She," Luffy takes a deep breath, his voice coming out scratchy. "She did too much."
"We need to get you two back on your ship."
-
You wake up and find yourself in your room.
You sit up, finding no one else here.
You grab your jacket and make your way to the kitchen.
-
"He convinced you?"
Sanji jumps, not expecting you to be awake. "Are you hungry?"
You nod and slowly make your way over to the couch. "No objections. I'll take whatever the chef makes."
"That can get dangerous if you say that to the wrong person."
"Good thing I'm just talking to you."
The corner of his lips twitch as gets back to work.
"Hey, I just-" Usopp smiles when he sees you here. "You're up. How're feeling?"
"Hungry and tired."
"The usual, cool. I wasn't worried, at all." He stops in front of the chef. "What's new on today's menu?"
"Not for you."
He gasps, "rude. I fought in that battle too, you know."
"You crawled away like a bug being found under a log."
He whines when you out him.
The other two enter the kitchen.
Zoro glances at you, "you're an idiot."
"Way to make a girl feel special asshole."
"You're going to have a scar."
"You're welcome for making sure you don't die because of your own mistake, moron."
He leans against the wall, watching over everyone.
Luffy stretches his arms out to hug you, letting his body slam into you. "You're awake. Are you okay? You passed out. Is that always normal?"
Usopp smacks the captain, "get off her. She just woke up, you're not helping."
"Food is ready."
"Time to eat!"
"No," Sanji smacks Luffy with the dish towel. "The lady gets hers first."
You stick your tongue out at your friend. "I knew I liked you for a reason."
"Other than my good looks."
The green haired man rolls his eyes, "would you stop flirting and feed the idiot before he steals the food."
"Not until the lady gets hers."
"The lady will be fine."
"You call yourself a man. A true man would make sure-"
You flick the two of them on their foreheads. "Shut up."
You give Luffy and Usopp their bowls, "eat you animals."
-
"Oh, we told the town of your sacrifice," you explain to Nami.
"We didn't know. Could you ever forgive us?" The guard asks.
"This is going to be a massacre," the orange haired girl says.
"For them," you crack your knuckles. "I got this."
Usopp thins his lips, "I don't think so. You're just gonna lose consciousness again."
"Why don't I knock you unconscious?"
Sanji steps forward and pulls you off the side. "Excuse her, she was woken up from a nap." He covers your ears. "She's cranky."
You smack his hands off you.
-
You sit on the wall, watching as everyone fights. It was the smart move, save more of your energy.
It was only when they started bad mouthing Nami that you really started getting fired up. "Woah! Hey! Hey!" You grab a rock and throw it at the fishman's head. "Don't bad mouth my friend!"
Sanji removes his jacket without removing his gaze.
"Now you've done it," Zoro mumbles.
You jump down and walk towards the green haired man.
Sanji doesn't stop until the fishman has been taken care of.
Zoro judges the chef, with him calling out his finishing move.
"Ignore him. You did good, Sanji."
He lowers his head, unable to respond to your comment.
Zoro shakes his head, not in the mood to deal with his pining.
Usopp makes his way back to you.
"Nice of you to join us."
The storyteller smiles. "Yeah, just- uh- wish I didn't miss so much of this."
You glance at Zoro and raise a brow, both of you knowing that he doesn't mean it.
The green haired man just gives him a look of disappointment.
Nami runs away from the deteriorating building and glances back over her shoulder. She turns back and runs towards you guys.
Sanji opens his arms with a smile, "Nami!"
She ignores him and throws her arms around the second in command and storyteller.
You offer him a sorry look before turning around at the sound of her calling your name. "Are you okay?" You ask.
Instead of replying she throws her arms around you, holding you tightly. "Thank you."
"Why?"
"You and Luffy gave me something I never thought I could have."
You smile. "Alright kid, get off me." You wipe her under eyes, making sure no one knew how much she was crying. You pat Sanji's shoulder, "she just doesn't know you yet."
"That would make sense."
"Where's Luffy?"
"He's still in there, fighting Arlong."
You huff, "why can't he wait for help?" You groan and start to take a step forward when they stop you.
The chef grabs your wrist and pulls you back. "Nope."
"Are you nuts?" Usopp asks. "I mean seriously. You want to fight that fishman?!"
"I'm not going to let Luffy-" The building collapses. "Great! My oldest friend is-"
"Nami! We are you're friends! We are your crew!"
"Still alive! Yay!" You jump up and down before throwing yourself into the blond's arms.
"Look who finally got their hug."
"Shut up, Nami."
Continue to: Part II
#one piece#one piece live action#one piece netflix#one piece x reader#one piece x you#one piece imagine#one piece imagines#one piece fanfiction#one piece fanfic#sanji x reader#sanji x you#sanji imagine#sanji imagines#sanji fanfic#sanji fanfiction#vinsmoke sanji#vinsmoke sanji x reader#vinsmoke sanji x you#crazyk-imagine
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Forever yours.
⤿ Satoru Gojo × reader
Summary, The only reason why you even agreed to marry him was for your father. Now you wish you could go back in time and reject the offer.
Warning/ tags; angst, profanity, smoking, cursing, smut, cheating, mean gojo,
Genre; angst, cheating, infidelity, jik, Gojou × reader
Notes: the tag-list is open if you'd like to be mentioned everytime i update just send me a message also sorry any of the spelling errors.
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It had been a few months since then, going to your honeymoon on July, and now it was November with Thanksgiving just around the corner. The autumn leaves were turning shades of red, orange, and yellow, reminding you of the honeymoon you and your spouse had taken just a few months ago.
Despite the fact that you and Satoru had been married for quite some time now, your relationship seemed to be stuck in a rut. He continued to ignore you, never joining you for dinner or spending time with you in the large mansion you had moved into. It was as if nothing had changed between the two of you.
You couldn't help but feel anxious and nervous as you waited for the results. It had been a rollercoaster of emotions for the past few months, with Satoru's constant reminders and tracking of your ovulation and periods. Now, all you could do was wait for the pregnancy test to give you the answer you were desperately hoping for, or dreading.
The anxiety and fear of a potential pregnancy weighed heavily on your mind as you waited for the results. You couldn't help but think about how your life would change if the test turned out positive. Would you be ready for motherhood? Would Satoru be ready to become a father? You hated to admit it but deep down you were hoping for a negative result.
As you stared at the calendar, your eyes scanned over the days until they finally landed on one that stood out to you. "Most likely to get pregnant." The bright red letters seemed to jump off the page, catching your attention and bringing back vivid memories.
You remembered that day so clearly - coming home from a family party with Satoru, feeling hurt and insulted by his words and actions, yet still unable to resist him when he made love to you. It was a painful reminder of the complicated and toxic dynamic between the two of you.
Despite spending a significant amount of time with him, you couldn't help but feel like there was a lack of connection between the two of you. There were days when it seemed like he was just tolerating your presence, and on other days, he would completely ignore you. Your hands would often tremble in his presence, and you couldn't understand why. Perhaps it was the feeling of uncertainty and unease that he brought to the table, leaving you with an unsettling feeling whenever you were around him.
The thought of Satoru being the father of your child filled you with dread and anxiety. You couldn't help but feel sick to your stomach, unsure if it was from the potential pregnancy or the overwhelming emotions you were experiencing.
The idea of bringing a child into a world of parents who despised each other was overwhelming and you couldn't help but question if this was really the best option for you and your child.
There was one major secret you hadn’t told your husband. Most of the women in your family, including your mother, had suffered from fertility issues. Your mother had experienced three miscarriages, and it was a common occurrence for babies in your family to not make it past the first trimester of pregnancy.
The fear of not being able to have a child of your own consumed your every thought. You were too afraid to go for testing and receive a definitive answer. Your mind raced with all the possible outcomes and you couldn't sit still, pacing back and forth from your room.
The thumps of your sole foot could be heard, a physical manifestation of your anxiety. You were so anxious, you wanted to scream and rip out your hair in frustration.
Once, only once in your life you had actually went to go test your fertility. Once you had gotten the results back you were too afraid to look at them. At the time Toji was still your boyfriend, he had reassured you that he didn’t care if you were infertile or not because all he cared was that he had you.
So you did what most people would do, you threw the dumb envelope away and never thought about it since. But yet the thought came to mind now. How would satoru react about this?
Your mind wandered to the contract you had signed with him. It was a business marriage, a union of convenience. You had no love for each other, no emotional connection. The only thing you could provide for him was your body, your uterus, and the ability to bear his child.
You were nothing but a means to an end, a tool in his pursuit of success. You ran your fingers through your hair, feeling trapped and suffocated in this loveless arrangement. Suddenly, the loud sound of your alarm going off startled you out of your thoughts, reminding you of the reality you were living in.
Your hand trembled as you slowly walked towards your drawer, where the pregnancy test awaited. Your heart practically jumping out of your chest with each step. You hated to admit it, but you really did hope the test would come back negative.
The thought of being pregnant at this point in your life was terrifying. You reached for the test, your hand shaking as you turned it over to look at the result. For a moment, the whole world seemed to stop moving. It was like those dramatic scenes in a movie when a character finds out something life-changing.
You held your breath as you stared at the small window, waiting for the result to appear.
You let out a deep sigh of relief, your heart pounding in your chest as you stared at the negative test in your hand. The weight of anxiety and fear lifted off your shoulders, and for a brief moment, you felt a sense of pure joy and happiness.
You couldn't believe you had finally received the answer you had been hoping for. Suddenly, the urge to celebrate overwhelmed you, and you wanted nothing more than to jump up and down in excitement.
But as you were about to do so, your bedroom door flew open, and your tall, white-haired husband stormed in, his expensive Christian Louboutin shoes making a loud thumping noise on the hardwood floor. Immediately, your celebration came to an end as you braced yourself for whatever was about to come.
Your husband stood before you, unbuttoning the sleeves of his immaculate white dress shirt, his expression unreadable. You knew that something was wrong, and your moment of relief was quickly replaced with a sense of dread.
You felt a wave of panic wash over you as you hastily shoved the pregnancy test into one of your drawers. Turning around, you put on a smile and walked towards your husband, helping him out of his suit and hanging it neatly in your closet.
Your heart sank as you noticed the stained red lipstick on the neckline of his suit. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy as you remembered that Jiyuu was one of his representatives in his business. You forced a smile and asked, "How was work?" trying to hide your true emotions.
You pursed your lips, a hint of disappointment evident on your face. "It was good," he said, noticing your reaction as you hung the suit up.
You silently walked back towards the room, Satoru was shirtless, rummaging through his closet for a shirt to wear. You couldn't help but admire his toned physique and the way his muscles flexed as he searched for a shirt.
Your mind wandered, imagining what it would feel like to run your hands over his chest. You quickly shook the thought from your mind, reminding yourself that he care for you.
"That's nice," you said with a small smile, feeling a twinge of nervousness as you bit the inside of your cheek.
You knew you shouldn't be pushing his buttons, let alone asking about his lover, but you just couldn't take it anymore. The anxious nights of awaiting his arrival, only to have him come home late or not at all, were taking a toll on you.
There were days where you couldn't even sleep without him by your side, and the constant worry and doubt were consuming your thoughts.
Yet, you couldn't stop yourself from asking about his whereabouts and who he was with, hoping for some reassurance or closure. But each time, the conversation just ended in more frustration and heartache.
“Satoru?” You felt a pang of jealousy and anger as you watched Satoru dress himself, trying to hide the evidence of his infidelity. His back, strong and toned from his workouts, was a reminder of how attractive he was to other women.
You couldn't help but notice the hickies on his neck, the scent of Burberry her perfume lingering in the air, and the red lipstick stains on his collar. You were tired of pretending not to see these signs of his unfaithfulness, but you couldn't bring yourself to confront him about it.
You hated how he made you feel insecure and unworthy, but you couldn't seem to walk away from him either. The constant inner turmoil was draining and exhausting, but you were willing to endure it for a chance to be with him.
He hummed, turning to face you. You felt the anger bubbling up inside of you as you looked at him, his casual demeanor and nonchalant attitude driving you insane. “Are you still seeing Jiyuu?” Your fists clenched at your sides as you resisted the urge to lash out at him.
His nonchalant attitude towards your feelings only added fuel to the fire, making you want to punch him even more. You could feel the hurt and betrayal in your gaze as you looked at him.
With a defeated sigh, his words stung as he spoke, "There's no reason for me to lie anymore. Jiyuu, she's the woman I love. Not you." His tone was harsh and final as he turned and walked away, leaving you to process the heart-wrenching truth.
The realization that you were not the one he loved, despite all your efforts, was a hard pill to swallow.
You followed him, feeling a surge of anger and betrayal. You couldn't believe he was with her again. He always seemed to have an excuse, whether it was work or hanging out with friends, but you knew the truth.
Your gut told you that he was always with her, and the evidence was becoming harder to ignore. You couldn't understand why he would continue to lie and break your trust.
"Stop pretending you care, stop trying to love me Y/N. All you're going to do is make things worse," he said with a resigned sigh. You were taken aback by his words, feeling like you had been punched in the gut.
You wanted to break down and cry, but you knew it would only push him away further. You couldn't help but wonder how it would feel to be comforted by him, to have him hold you and tell you everything would be okay.
But deep down, you knew that would never happen.
"Please," he began, his voice filled with hesitation as he turned to walk away from you once again. The irony was not lost on you - it seemed that everyone in your life had a tendency to walk away from you. Whether it was a friend, a family member, or a romantic partner, it always ended the same way.
You hated the feeling of begging and appearing so desperate. It made you feel small and unworthy, especially when you had to plead with your own husband. "Please Satoru, we're married. Can't you spare some time for me?" you would say, hoping for a glimmer of attention or affection.
The man's long, veiny hand ran through his shock of white hair as he licked his lips, his face coming dangerously close to yours. You could feel his hot breath on your skin as he spoke. "Fine," he growled. "My friends are going to a cabin this weekend." The intensity of his gaze made you feel uneasy.
Your eyes glimmered, a cabin. You always wanted to go to a cabin, one with snow. “Just me and you?” He nodded before slamming the door.
Why?
Why did the world have to be so cruel to you?
As you walked along the coastline, you could feel a gentle caress on your skin as the warm sand touched your feet. The grainy texture of the sand added a dimension of realism that heightened your sensory experience. The sensation of moving through the fine-grained sand was both soothing and invigorating, evoking a sense of tranquility and connection with the natural world.
The sand beneath your feet had a texture that was both soft and coarse. It felt comfortable as it massaged the soles of your feet, but it also provided a sturdy base that supported you as you walked.
He stood there, his hair flowing gently in the wind. The gusty breeze rushed through his face, causing his eyes to flutter slightly.
"Toji?" you called out, your voice filled with a mixture of excitement and concern.
Toji's face lit up when he saw you, a smile spreading across his face. He took a few steps towards you, his eyes filled with warmth and affection.
"Hey," he said, his voice echoing in the silence of the open field.
You ran to him, throwing your hands behind his neck, holding him so tight you felt his heartbeat through his chest. The feeling of his warm embrace brought tears to your eyes as you realized how much you had missed him. In that moment, nothing else mattered except being in his arms and feeling his love.
what did you do to deserve this?
A shiver ran down your spine as his hand gently touched your cheek, his forehead pressed against yours. You couldn't help but get lost in his intense gaze, his dark blue eyes seeming to look into the depths of your soul.
It felt so real.
"I love you," he whispered, his voice full of emotion as he looked at you with such tenderness. His hands, rough from years of hard work, gently caressed your skin, making your heart swell with love for him. Tears formed in your eyes as you realized how much you wanted this life with him, full of love and happiness.
The thought of him moving on and finding someone else to share his life with was unbearable. It was as if a part of you was being ripped away. His touch, his kiss, his presence - it all felt like home to you.
You couldn't imagine anyone else taking your place by his side. You wanted to be the one to spend forever with him, to grow old together and experience all of life's ups and downs by his side. The thought of someone else filling that role was too painful to even consider. You couldn't let him go. He was your soulmate, your other half.
Tears fell down, knowing that one day you would never find someone who loved and cherished you as much as you loved and cherished him.
"You have to let me go Y/N." He pulled away from you. There it was that stupid geniune smile he always gave you. You broke down sobbing on his chest as he held you.
Why did your brain have to do this to you?
He cupped your face in his hands, wiping away your tears with his thumbs. "I promise you, I'll always love you." You shook your head, unable to accept his words
"I don't want to lose you," you cried. "I can't imagine my life without you." He gently wiped away your tears, his expression filled with sadness.
"I know, but it's for the best," he said softly. You didn't want to let him go, but you knew deep down that he was right. You hugged him tighter, trying to hold onto the moment for as long as you could.
"Toji, before I go," You said the sunset casting a golden light on his perfect face. You couldn't help but admire him, even in this bittersweet moment.
"Why couldn't you just stop the wedding?" Your voice cracked as you asked the question, tears welling up in your eyes. "Why didn't you just run away with me?" You couldn't understand why he didn't choose you, why he couldn't see that you were meant to be together.
Your heart ached at the thought of being Satoru's wife instead of his, but you couldn't bring yourself to say it out loud. The pain was too much to bear.
With a heavy heart, he looked at you with a bittersweet smile, gently tucking a stray hair behind your ear. "Y/N, I knew I couldn't stop the wedding because deep down, I know I'll never be able to provide for you as well as he can."
He continued to look at you with a mixture of sadness and love, knowing that he had to let you go. "But I promise to always be there for you, no matter what. You deserve all the happiness in the world and I hope he can give that to you." With one last gentle touch, he turned and walked away, leaving you to contemplate his bittersweet words.
You stood there, his touch still lingering on your skin. The memories of your time together flooded back, each one stinging like a fresh wound. As you watched him walk away, you couldn't help but feel a sense of loss and regret. You whispered, "We almost had it all," knowing that things could have been different if only you had made different choices. But now, as he disappeared from your sight, you knew it was too late.
You were so in love with Toji, and it wasn't just because he was there to heal your heart after the previous relationship left it shattered. It was because he was your true love, the one who knew you better than anyone else. Every morning, he would hold you tightly, cherishing the sight of your bare face and your plump lips.
Even with morning breath, he didn't care because being with you was all that mattered to him. He would always be there to hold you, to kiss you tenderly, and to remind you of just how much you mean to him. Every moment with him felt like a dream come true, and you couldn't imagine your life without him.
However, things quickly changed when you met your now current husband. The arranged marriage ruined everything for you and Toji, destroying the perfect life you had imagined since you first started dating. The apartment, the cat, and the financial stability were all gone, along with the hope of a future together. Now, you are left with a broken heart and shattered dreams..
As you stood frozen on the beach, you could feel your heart shatter into a million pieces. You wanted to scream his name, to beg him to stay, but your voice was lost in the overwhelming pain and shock. With a loud thump, your knees hit the sand, the impact almost jolting you out of your trance.
Your hands instinctively gripped the fabric of your skirt, as if trying to cling onto some sense of stability. And as the tears fell from your eyes, you could feel the weight of your heartache slowly drip down your face.
You awoke, tears streaming down your face. You stared at the laces of your boots. The sound of the wind blowing waking you up. The trip to the cabin was at least 4 hours.
The pounding headache that had not been present when you woke up this morning was now throbbing behind your eyes, making it difficult to focus on anything else.
You were dressed to impress, wearing black flared pants that accentuated your legs, paired with your favorite Chanel boots that added a touch of luxury to your outfit. Your tight red turtle neck hugged your figure perfectly, highlighting your curves in all the right places.
Satoru, on the other hand, opted for a more comfortable yet classy look. He wore a cozy sweater, with a long white t-shirt peeking out underneath. His blue Dickies pants were held up by a stylish Gucci belt.
Your muscles ached from sitting in the same position for hours on end. As you shifted in your seat, you could feel the soreness spreading through your body, making it hard to focus on anything else. Satoru’s black Tucker jacket was stretched on your thighs. Nervously you began to play with the collar.
You wanted to get up and stretch, but the stern expression on Satoru's face made you think twice. You could tell he was deep in thought and didn't want to be disturbed, so you pursed your lips and remained silent.
You couldn't help but imagine what it would be like if things were different. In another universe, perhaps you and Satoru could have a great relationship. Maybe you could even be more than just friends. You couldn't deny the fact that Satoru was incredibly attractive, with his charm and poise only adding to his perfection.
You checked your phone, clicking on the small button for it to turn on. Great, no service. You threw it back inside your purse before looking out the window. The snow continuously falling down as you made your way to your cabin.
Maybe in another life, he had met his true love and they lived a happy life together. Perhaps you both could have had fulfilling relationships with your own partners, instead of being stuck in an unhappy marriage.
As you caught sight of the cabin nestled in the woods, you felt a wave of relief wash over you. Multiple cars, all of them expensive models, were parked in the front, giving you a sense of security.
You sat up straighter in your seat, mentally preparing yourself for the meeting ahead, and gathered all your belongings as Satoru expertly parked the car next to a sleek and luxurious Rolls-Royce.
As you stepped out of the car, the cold air nipped at your exposed skin. You shivered and pulled your coat tighter around you, grateful for the warmth it provided.
Satoru, noticing your discomfort, immediately came over to you and took his jacket from your hands, gently putting it on. You smiled gratefully at him as he wrapped his arm around your waist, leading you towards your destination.
As Satoru closed the car door, he reached for your hand, intertwining his long fingers with yours. You felt a sense of security and warmth flood through you as you admired the beauty of the cabin. The snow falling gently around the roof added to the picturesque scene, making it even more enchanting.
"Satoru!" You instantly recognized the voice of the woman. Her long, brown hair swayed as she made her way towards the two of you, a bright smile on her face.
The woman embraced Satoru, pulling him close in a warm hug. As she stepped back, you recognized her as the lady from the party in Santorini. "I'm so glad you could make it," she said with a smile, gesturing for you both to come inside.
"It's freezing out here." You could see her breath in the cold winter air, her words serving as a reminder of the chilly weather outside.
The only thing different about her was the baby bump she was missing. Satoru, with his long and lean figure, walked alongside you as you made your way towards the entrance. His height was quite impressive, making you feel small in comparison. As Shoko beckoned you to join her inside, you eagerly followed, not wanting to waste any time.
As you entered the warm, bustling room, you took a moment to take in the scene. The majority of the guests from the party were already here, chatting and laughing with each other.
You quickly removed your boots, shaking off the snow and placed them by the door. Your feet were cold, so you grabbed your trusty pair of uggs and slipped them on, feeling the warmth and comfort immediately.
As you and Satoru walked inside, you couldn't help but notice the stares of everyone around you. Many of them were his friends, who you had met during your time together. One of them, feeling sympathetic, offered to take your luggage to your room for you.
You gratefully handed it over, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. It was a small gesture, but it meant a lot to you in that moment. You gave him a smile and a word of thanks before turning back to Satoru.
You found yourself comfortably seated on the plush couch. Everyone seemed to be engaged in conversations, their voices blending together in a pleasant symphony. From the couch, you had a clear view of the room, filled with warm lighting and cozy furnishings.
"So Shoko, where exactly is the baby?" Satoru inquired, removing his jacket and draping it over your lap. As he did so, you couldn't help but notice his veiny hands, a common feature of his. He placed his hand on your thigh, the veins popping out even more prominently.
"Hes sleeping but once hes awake your one of the first people he’ll meet," she said with a smile. She got up from the couch and walked towards the kitchen.
Satoru felt a sudden jolt as a hand was placed on his shoulder, causing him to snap his neck in surprise to see who it was. His eyes widened as he recognized the person standing behind him - Geto.
His friend “Getou” was tall, towering over most people he encountered. His long black hair was usually tied back in a ponytail, but today it hung loosely around his face. He was dressed in all black, a black sweatshirt and matching black pants that seemed to be a staple in his wardrobe.
However, his appearance was overshadowed by the noticeable dark circles under his eyes, hinting at the fact that he was having trouble sleeping. He looked tired and worn out, as if he had been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Feeling a sense of loneliness, you watched as Satoru quickly got up and left, seemingly forgetting about your existence. As you sat alone, people stopped by to ask about your well-being and how your marriage was going, but it was something you had grown accustomed to.
The constant inquiries and reminders of your failed marriage only added to the feeling of isolation and heartache.
"Y/N!" Surprisingly, you instantly recognized that voice as your college friend. Your heart warmed as you turned to face her, a huge smile spreading across your face. It had been years since you last saw each other, but it felt like no time had passed at all.
As you saw your old friend, "Utahime?", you couldn't help but break into a wide smile. Your cheeks began to hurt from the sheer joy and excitement of seeing her again after so long. You practically jumped into her arms, hugging her tightly.
The familiar scent of her Coco Chanel perfume filled your nostrils, bringing back a flood of memories from your college days together.
"It's been so long!" she exclaimed, her voice full of genuine surprise and delight. She quickly pulled you into a tight embrace, her hands gripping the sides of your arms. "What brings you here?" she asked with a smile.
"I'm actually married now," you replied, a mixture of happiness and nervousness bubbling inside of you.
Her eyes lit up with that familiar look she always gave you, a look that made you feel seen and loved. It was as if no time had passed between the two of you, and you couldn't help but feel grateful to have her in your life.
"It's amazing how life can surprise us," she said as she motioned for you to join her outside. You sat down on the chairs, huddled together by the warm fire. Looking at the stars, she continued, "Out of all the people I met in college, I never would have guessed that you would be the one to settle down so early. You were always the adventurous type, ready to take on the world."
She smiled at you, "But I guess love has a way of changing us, doesn't it?" You smiled back, grateful for her understanding and support. As the fire crackled and the night grew darker, you shared stories and laughs. grateful for the unexpected turn your life had taken.
You talked for what seemed like hours on end, catching up with her felt like a fairytale. She shared all the exciting details of her life over the past few years, including graduating college and finding her dream job.
"So here I am, personally, as a Gynecologist," Utahime said, looking at shoko, who was gently rocking her baby back and forth, who looked up at you with interest.
"And Shoko here is an endocrinologist," she continued, gesturing towards her. “We both have specialized medical knowledge, but in different areas of expertise.”
Shoko got up from her seat and decided to sit next to you and Utahime. "Is that so? I'm so glad everything turned out to be good for you," you said, smiling warmly at Utahime. As you looked at her, you noticed a shift in her facial features. Her previously tense and worried expression had transformed into one of relief and contentment.
As you saw her for the first time in years, you couldn't help but notice the changes in her appearance. Her face had matured, no longer the round and soft baby face you remembered. Instead, she now had a more stern and defined structure, giving her a sense of authority and experience.
Despite the visible scar on her face, she seemed to radiate a glow that only added to her beauty.
The woman spoke softly, her voice filled with genuine concern. "I know how much you and Satoru have been wanting to have a baby," she said, leaning in closer. "As a gynecologist, I have some tips and advice that could help you both. And if you ever need any check-ups or consultations, you are more than welcome to come to my office." Her warm smile and the flickering light from the fire highlighted the purple strands in her hair, making her seem almost ethereal.
"Well, that's the thing," you said, looking at Shoko. "You're an endocrinologist, right?” Shoko nodded, her focus shifting to wrapping her newborn baby in a warmer blanket.
You were nervous and hesitant to ask, but you needed to know. "They're the ones who specialize in hormones," you said, your voice shaky. "Do you also specialize in infertility?" You raised an eyebrow, trying to gauge their reaction.
Utahime and Shoko exchanged a concerned look before turning back to you. Their expressions were serious as they nodded their heads in confirmation. You let out a sigh of relief, grateful that you had found doctors who could help you with your fertility struggles.
"Yes, why? Are you having trouble getting pregnant?" she asked, tilting her head in concern. The fire crackled loudly, each second passing by filled with tension and worry.
"My family has a history of hormone imbalances and fertility problems, and I wanted to get tested to see if I may have inherited these issues. Plus, it would be reassuring to get tested by someone I know and trust," you explained to your friend.
As you spoke, her expression softened and she absentmindedly played with her baby's chubby hands while listening. Her support and understanding made you feel more at ease about the situation.
“Absolutely, you know what. I’ll send Satoru my info-“ you quickly interrupted her.
"No no no," you pleaded, "he cannot know about this. Please." You looked away from her piercing stare, feeling ashamed and afraid that she might go and tell your husband. The secret you were keeping was eating away at you, and the thought of your husband finding out was unbearable.
“Of course, you’re my friend after all. Here,” She grabbed her purse.
"Can you hold him for just a moment?" She asked, handing you her baby. You couldn't resist the urge to reach out and take the little bundle into your arms. He immediately stared at you, his dark brown eyes searching your face curiously.
You couldn't help but smile at the adorable little face looking up at you. "He's so cute," you commented, and the mother beamed with pride. "Thank you, I'm glad you think so. He seems to like you," she replied, noticing how her baby was now reaching out towards you.
You couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and connection with the little one in your arms, even though you had just met. It was a small moment, but it brought a smile to your face and warmed your heart.
As the baby's chubby hands grasped onto your finger and their big eyes looked up at you in innocent wonder, you couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and joy.
You found yourself gently playing with the baby, making silly faces and noises that made them giggle and coo. In that moment, all your worries and troubles seemed to fade away, replaced by the pure happiness of being in the presence of a child.
As you held the baby in your arms, you couldn't help but think about the possibility of being infertile. The thought of not being able to have a child of your own was heartbreaking. However, in this moment, with the chubby-cheeked baby in your arms, all those worries faded away.
You brought the baby closer, feeling his soft breaths against your skin. As he began playing with your hair, you couldn't help but admire him. He was a spitting image of Shoko, with her almond-shaped eyes and button nose, but he also had features that definitely resembled Geto, like his pale skin and black hair.
“Here you go,” As you thanked the kind woman, she handed you a small card with the name and address of her clinic. You quickly stuffed it into your pants pocket, grateful for the potential help it may offer in the future.
"You know," she said with a playful grin, "if you like him so much you can keep him." She joked, giggling at the face you made. You couldn't help but laugh along with her, knowing she was just teasing you.
"I think I'll pass," you replied, still smiling. "I'd rather just borrow him every once in a while." She rolled her eyes, but her smile never faltered.
The glass door slid open, revealing Satoru and Geto standing on the other side with bottles of beer in their hands. As soon as your husband laid eyes on you and the baby in your arms, his gaze immediately turned to you with a mixture of surprise and concern.
"I'm just kidding Y/N," Shoko said with a laugh, getting up from her seat as the baby started to cry. "Well, that's my cue to give him to his father." She walked over to Satoru and Geto, who were deep in conversation and cracking jokes.
You couldn't help but smile as you heard Satoru's deep and attractive laugh, something you didn't get to hear often. "Looks like I'll have to leave the baby duties to you two," Shoko teased, handing the baby over to Satoru. "But seriously, thank you both for all your help." Satoru and Geto both nodded, Satoru’s face softening as he held the baby in his arms.
"My back is killing me," Shoko groaned, raising her arms above her head as she walked back towards you and Utahime. "I need to relax my muscles," she added, letting out a loud yawn.
"There's a Jacuzzi, you know..." Utahime said with a sly grin, standing up and flipping on the back lights. The entire back area was aluminized, giving it a sleek and futuristic look.
"Wow, this is amazing!" exclaimed Shoko stepping closer to get a better look at the Jacuzzi.
"Right? It's perfect for those cold winter nights," Utahime replied with a playful wink.
You couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment as you looked at the huge jacuzzi on the back deck of the vacation rental.
The bubbles were constantly popping and rising to the surface, making it look so inviting. However, you realized that you had forgotten to pack a bathing suit, and there was nothing remotely close to one in your luggage.
You cursed yourself for not double-checking your packing list and felt frustrated that you wouldn't be able to enjoy the relaxing hot tub.
"Well, I'm going up to get my bathing suit because I definitely need to relax in the jacuzzi," shoko said with a frown.
You politely said your goodbyes and slipped away unnoticed into the cabin. As you entered, the cozy atmosphere of the rustic cabin embraced you, providing a welcome respite from the chilly evening air.
The soft glow of the fireplace and the gentle sound of crackling wood immediately put you at ease. You couldn't help but notice the other guests lost in their own thoughts, some reading by the fire, others playing board games at the kitchen table.
Exhaustion finally caught up to you and you let out a tired yawn, rubbing your eyes as you made your way to your room. The warm and comfortable bed awaited you, promising a peaceful night's rest.
The door opened with a small creek, the wodden floor echoing each step you took. You practically stripped yourself off your clothes. Grabbing one of your cozy night gowns you smoothly slid it on.
As you entered the room, the old wooden door creaked open, the sound echoing through the quiet space. The familiar scent of the room enveloped you, bringing a sense of comfort and relaxation.
With each step, the wooden floorboards groaned under your weight. Finally reaching your closet, you couldn't wait to change into something more comfortable. As you stripped off your clothes, you felt the tension of the day slowly dissipate.
Your hand reached for your favorite night gown, the soft fabric sliding smoothly over your skin as you slipped it on, instantly feeling at ease in your own home.
As you settled into the plush queen bed, you couldn't help but notice how dim the room was with the lights off. It was the perfect ambiance for a good night's sleep, and you were grateful for the extra blankets you packed.
The hotel's blankets were thin and barely provided any warmth, but luckily you came prepared. You closed your eyes and let the softness of the bed and the coziness of the blankets lull you into a peaceful slumber.
Satoru didn’t know if it was the alcohol in his system that made him do this or the fact that he genuinely wanted you.
Before getting drunk, he spent the whole night with Getous baby, rocking and playing with him. As he watched you hold the child, he couldn't help but feel a strange flutter in his stomach. Maybe it was the way your hair fell into place, or the pure joy he saw in your face as you interacted with the baby. He couldn't explain this feeling, but it was undeniable. It was in that moment that he realized he was falling for you, and it scared him.
Despite his dislike for alcohol, he found himself in an inebriated state, stumbling up the stairs to your room. He was usually a responsible and controlled individual, but today was different. He was grateful that his phone had little to no service, freeing him from the constant barrage of messages from Jiyuu.
He felt a sense of relief and freedom from her constant demands for his time and attention. However, deep down, he knew that this temporary escape would only lead to more problems in the long run.
He finally made it to the room, carefully navigating his way in the dark. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he stumbled on nothing but air, making sure not to trip over any obstacles in his path. Once he reached his destination, he quickly took off his shoes and closed the restroom door behind him. As he fumbled for the light switch, he could feel the familiar sting of bright light hitting his eyes. He took a moment to recompose his vision before continuing what he was doing.
As he stood in front of the bathroom sink, he turned on the cold water, the sound of it filling the room. He ran his fingers through the water, feeling its coolness against his skin. Taking a deep breath, he momentarily splashed his face with the water, feeling its refreshing touch. He then leaned in closer to the mirror, studying his reflection and the emotions that played across his face.
"Well fuck, I look like shit," he muttered to himself as he caught a glimpse of his tired reflection in the mirror. He had barely gotten any sleep nowadays, the bags under his eyes a testament to his hectic schedule.
Spending most of his nights either working his ass off or going over to Jiyuu's house and well, fucking her brains out. He couldn't deny that the physical release helped him relax and forget about his stress for a little while, but it was taking a toll on his appearance and overall well-being.
Thats all that seemed to happen in his life. Jiyuu would call him late at night for her needs, never once asking him how he was doing. Everything was rough with her, the sex was always aggressive and the kisses were forceful.
Even their relationship was characterized by constant arguments and tension. Every time he tried to talk to her about his feelings, she would brush him off and turn the conversation back to herself. It was clear that she only cared about her own needs and desires, leaving him feeling used and unfulfilled.
He couldn't believe it. As he walked into the bathroom, he saw his toothbrush already in the cup next to the sink. A wave of annoyance washed over him. "Of course," he scoffed, "the perfect little wife you were had to also pack the miserable husband things." But as he thought about it more, he realized that this small act was just another reminder of how much his wife cared for him.
You always made sure he had everything he needed, even if it was just a toothbrush.
As he stood in front of the bathroom mirror, he couldn't help but feel a sense of guilt wash over him. He knew he had treated you poorly, but in his mind, you were the reason for his strained relationship with Jiyuu. He loved her deeply, and the thought of losing her was unbearable.
Without another thought, he turned off the lights and closed the bathroom door, not caring about the freezing temperatures outside. Stripping off his shirt, he couldn't shake off the feeling that he had made a mistake, but he was too stubborn to admit it.
As he gazed at you, the soft glow of the moon enhanced your features, making your skin look radiant and your hair appear to shimmer. The gentle rise and fall of your chest as you breathed added to your allure, making him wonder how someone could look so effortlessly beautiful even in sleep.
He couldn't help but feel a pull towards you, admiring the peaceful expression on your face and the way your body seemed to fit perfectly into the bed. It was almost as if you were made for this moment, and he couldn't resist the urge to reach out and touch you, feeling the warmth of your skin and the gentle rise and fall of your chest beneath his fingertips.
Despite the late hour, he couldn't tear his eyes away from you, captivated by the tranquil and alluring image you presented.
The moonlight cascaded over your exposed shoulders and collarbone, highlighting the curves and contours of your body. The strap of your nightgown had slipped off one shoulder, revealing more of your smooth, glowing skin. As he climbed into bed with you, he couldn't help but feel a rush of desire and anticipation. You eagerly wrapped your arms around Satoru, pulling him closer as the warmth of his body enveloped you.
He didn’t know why but here he was rock hard at just staring at your face.
He couldnt resist it anymore, slowly he placed his hand on top of your ass messaging the soft muscle.
Maybe it was the alcohol that made him want to fuck you so bad right now, or it was finally him excepting the fact that you were undeniably beautiful.
However, in this moment, his desire for you was too strong. He couldn't resist the temptation any longer. As he gently shook you, he knew he shouldn't be doing this, but he couldn't help himself. Satoru was usually calm and collected, never crossing boundaries with women.
Despite his loyalty to Jiyuu, he had been intimate with other partners in the past. But right now, none of that mattered. All he wanted was you.
Yeah they were attractive and good at sex but yet he never found himself waking them up just to put his cock inside of them.
“mmm,” you opened your eyes, your lips pinker than ever. In this moment Satoru couldn’t sworn that look alone made him cum.
"Shit, can I fuck you?" You were startled to say the least, but a part of you couldn't deny that you wanted this. Raising an eyebrow, you couldn't even form a coherent response before you felt Satoru's lips hungrily press against yours. His hands tangled in your hair as he deepened the kiss, sending shivers down your spine.
You couldn't help but moan in response, your body betraying your initial shock. Satoru pulled away, a smirk on his lips as he whispered, "I'll take that as a yes." And in that moment, you could practically feel your knees buckle.
Satoru guided his hands across your body, exploring every inch and leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake. As he pulled you into another heated kiss, his lips moved with a fiery passion against yours. His hands trailed down to your lower back, giving a gentle squeeze that sent shivers down your spine.
You couldn't help but moan as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring every corner of your mouth. His touch was electric, igniting a fire within you that you couldn't resist.
You could feel your panties getting more wet by the second. His strong hands gripping your body.
"Satoru," you gasped as he continued to trail kisses down your neck, his hands roaming over your body.
"I can't get enough of you," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. "I want more," he growled, his lips finding yours again as he deepened the kiss.
"Me too," you moaned, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. The two of you were lost in the heat of the moment, unable to resist each other any longer.
As his long fingers trailed down your body, they eventually made their way to your panties. You could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with each passing second, the anticipation of what was to come sending shivers down your spine.
He couldn't help but smirk as he saw just how drenched your panties were, a clear indication of how much you wanted him. Without hesitation, he moved the side of your panties and began to circle his thumb around your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through your body.
You couldn't help but arch your back as his cold thumb made contact with your sensitive folds, the sensation only adding to the intense arousal you were feeling.
"You're so wet for me,"Satoru murmured, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he slid two fingers inside of you. Your pussy clenched around them, pleasure coursing through your body.
"Shit Toru.." you moaned, unable to contain yourself as his fingers expertly hit all the right spots. "You have to be quiet," he reminded you, his deep husky voice sending shivers down your spine. His lips found yours, silencing any further noises as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you.
The intensity of his touch and the forbidden nature of the situation only added to your arousal.
Satoru couldn’t deny his attraction towards you, the way you squeezed your eye shut when you were about to cum or the way your eyebrows creased each time he fucked you harder.
"You think I didn't notice you with the baby?" You opened your eyes, struggling to make eye contact with your husband as he continued to finger you.
He pulled his obnoxiously long fingers out of your drenching wet cunt and gave you a wicked smile. "Since you want to pretend to be a mommy so bad, I'll make you one." He unbuckled his pants, his hard cock practically twitching with excitement as he stared down at your pussy.
You couldn't help but feel a little nervous as he positioned himself between your legs. He rubbed his hard long cock on your entrance, biting your lip you moaned as he slowly began to enter you.
"God, you feel so good," he grunted, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "You're gonna be such a hot mommy," he whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine
He began to fuck you, the sound of the bed squeaking and your skin slapping together filled the room. His toned abs flexed every time he entered you, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. You felt like you were on cloud 9, completely lost in the moment.
His strong hands gripped your waist tightly, his fingers digging into your skin as he thrust into you with a powerful force. Each time his cock filled you, it made you go crazy with ecstasy. You couldn't help but moan and whimper in pleasure as he took you with such intensity.
His dick twitched inside of your pussy, your walls clenching each time he slid in and out of you. "You're so big, Toru," you moaned, your eyes brimming with tears of pleasure. He was so huge, and you loved every inch of him.
His white hair was stuck to his sweaty forehead as he continued to fuck you, his body glistening with sweat. Suddenly, he grabbed one of your legs and swung it over his shoulder, changing the angle and hitting a spot inside of you that made you see stars.
He groaned, making eye contact with you and admiring how beautiful you looked taking in his huge dick. You could feel his cock twitching inside of you, signaling that he was getting close to his release.
"Mmm, babe….your tits are getting so…big," Satoru groaned as he squeezed and massaged your breasts, sending shivers of pleasure through your body. You moaned in response, your hands running through his hair as he trailed wet kisses down your neck.
"I can't wait to see how big they'll get when you're pregnant," he whispered, his hot breath tickling your skin. You arched your back, pressing your body closer to his as he continued to thrust into you with increasing fervor.
"Fuck, Mmm…Satoru," you gasped, the pleasure building inside you.
He chuckled darkly, his hand slipping down to your abdomen. "Just imagine how sexy you'll look with my baby growing inside you," he said, his voice low and husky with desire.
You whimpered as he hit a particularly sensitive spot, your body trembling with pleasure. "Please, Satoru, I need you to cum in me" you begged, your nails digging into his back.
He gave a feral growl in response, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he neared his release. "You're mine, baby," he grunted, his eyes locked on yours. "And I'm gonna make you a mommy." With one final, powerful thrust, he spilled inside you, sending you both over the edge into blissful ecstasy.
His hot semen filled your pussy, your legs twitching before he got off you and layed next to you.
Despite the numerous times you and your husband have had sex, this particular time felt different.
For the first time, there was a real sense of intimacy and connection between the two of you.
ps: had to cut this chapter short but i ended up changing the angsty part for chap 5, gotta give my girl y/n a break for whats about to come…
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Dreams Become Reality
Gale Dekarios x Fem!Reader
A/N: FINALLY got this finished lmao. Posted a teaser of this weeks ago and it has been sitting in my drafts ever since staring at me as I stared back it. Type a few words. Stop for a few says. Few more words, an even longer break. And so on lol. But it’s finally here! Based on the request.
Word Count: 3.1k
Warnings: 18+ ONLY, NSFW, smut, Reader is described as having female anatomy, fingering, gale comes untouched (kinda), choking, wet dreams, inappropriate use of Mage Hand, fluff and slight aftercare at the end.
The air around you is thick.
Thick with tension. Thick with the warm breaths leaving both your lips. Thick with the smell of arousal.
It’s all consuming - Gale, is all consuming. Surrounding and overtaking your every sense.
The scent of him fills your nose - sandalwood, and old books, and right now, sweat. The exertion has made a thin layer form on his skin as his body slides against your own.
Gale surrounds you in every way, cocooning you between his body and the sheets, his lips very rarely leaving your skin as he moves with you, thrusting his hips against your own, bringing you closer and closer to the edge you long to jump off of.
“Gale…”
His name falls from your lips in a whispered prayer, begging for more as he responds with a soft groan of his own.
He calls your name, and you whine in response. But then he calls it again, the sound falling in a gasp from his lips as one of his hands reaches up to clasp your shoulder in tight grip.
He calls your name again and this time darkness crashes around you as you startle awake in bed.
Your sleep clothes cling uncomfortably to your sweat-damp skin. Blood rushes in your ears as your chest rises and falls with effort to suck in air. And worst of all is the ache in your core, arousal burning bright in your belly from what you now realize was a dream.
Another gentle squeeze to your shoulder makes your eyes finally fall to Gale, who sits beside you in the bed and appears positively flustered.
He’s as short of breath as you are, chest stuttering as he gazes at you, eyes wide. You look him over quickly, and even in the darkness of the room you’re able to see the way his pupils are blown wide with lust and dark flush on his cheeks. And, you definitely don't miss the sight of him hard beneath the covers.
“Shit…” you mutter, your own face heating up as you realize what happened.
“Did I wake you?” you ask softly, trying and failing to tamp down the images from your dream. “I was…I’m sorry-“
Gale shakes his head, his hand falling down to lace his fingers with yours as his lips tilt up in a small smile.
“No need for apologies,” he tells you, ever so slightly leaning in. “Most people would consider that a compliment. When their partner dreams of them in such a manner, well - at least, I hope it was me that was plaguing your dreams considering it was my name falling from your lips-“
You cut him off as you lunge for him, covering his mouth with your hand as you shush him, embarrassment swelling in your chest.
“Do you ever stop talking?”
Gale hums beneath your hand, and reaches up to pull it away from his mouth. You expect him to respond but instead, suddenly, he flips you over and presses you back into the mattress, his body hovering over yours as his hands hold your own beside your head.
“I do indeed know when to hold my tongue but…” He pauses for a moment, and you blink in surprise as a candle on the bedside table ignites with a wave of his hand, casting you both in a dim glow before he continues.
“I find myself most curious as to what had you calling my name like that even in the deepest sleep.”
Gods, you feel at war with yourself. The embarrassment creeping up your neck and heating your cheeks, clashing with the arousal still burning bright in your veins. The images from your dream flash behind your eyes as they slip closed, yet the thought of voicing them makes you shrink into the covers.
As if sensing your hesitancy, Gale is the first to act, leaning in to capture your lips in a soft kiss, lips moving against yours before he pulls away just slightly, nose brushing your own.
“How about I guess, hm?” he asks, his voice low as one of his hands lets go of one of yours.
His fingers brush against the shell of your ear, traveling lower over your neck, down over your shoulder to brush against your clothed breast. Your breath hitches with the contact, and you watch through half-lidded eyes as Gale’s lips tilt upward ever so slightly.
“Was I touching you here?” he asks, voice a mere whisper as his thumb rubs over the stiff peak of your nipple. “Or perhaps it was…here…”
His hand leaves your chest in favor of slipping ever downwards, toying with the thin fabric of your underwear beneath your sleeping gown.
Without much thought, you nod your head, a moan slipping past your lips as the heat of your arousal burns brighter.
Gale’s eyes twinkle with triumph, and instead of leaving him with that satisfaction, another flash from your dreams makes you speak before that earlier embarrassment can creep back up.
“But…there was something else…” you manage to say, your voice soft as your cheeks blaze with heat.
Gale’s head tilts to the side ever so slightly at your words, brows winging up in surprise as he stills.
“Oh?” he breathes. “Now I must know what was going on in that beautiful head of yours.”
Despite your best effort, something akin to shame wells up in your chest, regret at ever saying anything invading your mind. But Gale’s unadulterated interest, that ever present curiosity in his gaze, practically begs you to please him by voicing your fantasies.
You let out a shaky sigh. “What if…what if you think it’s…what if you don’t like it?” you ask sheepishly.
Gale lets out a small chuckle, eyes soft as his free hand retreats from between you to rest encouragingly against your hip, squeezing gently.
“My love,” he says quietly. “I can assure you that you will receive no wayward looks or reprimands from me. Your desires and fantasies are your own, I must admit - but dare I say I would be more than eager to help you fulfill them.”
His words soothe you slightly, but that doubt is still present, and Gale must know you’re about to protest when your lips part, because he stops you with another kiss.
“I assure you,” he says as he pulls away just enough to hover over you. “If for any reason I am not comfortable I will make it known. Just as I would expect you to do if our positions were reversed.”
You manage a small nod, muscles quivering in subdued excitement as you reach down to take the hand at your hip slowly bringing it back on your body.
“You were touching me there,” you say softly, voice sultry with arousal. “But you were also…here.”
Your nerves are still tingling with a tinge of uncertainty as you guide his hand to the base of your throat.
A shiver passes the through you as the calloused palm of his hand brushes over the delicate skin, his fingers twitching in surprise as you gently press them to wrap around the sides of your neck.
You watch through lowered lashes for his reaction, your heart tittering when his breath hitches, eyes widening and going dark with lust all at once.
For just a brief moment, you expect him to pull away, but Gale - as usual - surprises you. His fingers flex, pressing just a bit firmer into the pulse points of your neck, his palm placing just the barest of pressure to your throat, making your already labored breathing come out ragged as a moan slips past your lips.
“Gods above…” Gale groans, leaning up so his lips hover over your own. “This is what you dreamt of? My hands on your skin, bringing you pleasure while also toying with the slightest bit of danger?”
He presses his fingers in deeper, not enough to leave marks or completely cut off air, but more than before and enough to make you acutely aware of the blood pumping beneath his fingers, and the breath straining through your throat.
You can feel new wetness pooling between your thighs, joining the arousal already present from your obscene dreamscape.
And Gale…Well, he seems just as affected as you are. His hips have slotted against your own, pushing up your nightgown as he presses himself against you.
All you can manage is a small nod to his question, not sure you’d be able to speak if you wanted to. Ecstasy courses through your veins, buzzing delightfully and fanning those flames burning deep in your core even higher as his hand tightens just that much more around your throat.
Another moan works its way up your throat, this time getting stuck before it can fully pass your lips, the sound smothered by the pressure again your neck.
Gale lets out another sinful sound, his hips pressing more incessantly against your own, enough that you can feel the hardness of him against your clothed center.
Just when you think he’s had enough, that all too familiar heated look in his eyes, he pauses.
Your brows furrow as his grip against your throat loosens as he mutters an unintelligible incantation. You go to question him, but you hear his answer before you even voice the question.
His voice is smooth in your mind, as if he’s speaking directly to you, his lips never moving.
‘I don’t want there to be any question of if you’re able to stop me.’ His thought comes into your mind as easily as if he were speaking, and your eyes widen.
“Detect thoughts?” you ask, shocked at the brilliance of the idea.
Now neither of you need to physically speak to communicate, thus no fear for Gale if you need to stop.
Gale smiles, leaning down to capture you lips in a searing kiss.
‘Exactly,’ he says in your mind. ‘And now…there is no need for my lips to leave your skin, no distractions from fulfilling that dream of yours…’
“Gale, please-“ you beg aloud, your patience now gone, and your only desire being him touching you, taking you in the way he was before your dream was snatched from your unconscious hands.
Gale chuckles, lips breaking from yours to travel lower, nipping at your jaw and trailing featherlight kisses down your neck.
‘Though I must admit…those words sound much sweeter falling from your lips than floating through my mind.’
He continues his path downwards, no doubt leaving behind ample evidence of his attentions, until he’s stopped in his tracks by the collar of your sleep clothes. It’s then that you both finally move to divest yourselves of the offending articles.
Your hands move frantically against Gale’s velvet shirt, the fabric clinging to your hands as you bunch it up to eventually tug it over his head. His pants are not far behind, the renowned wizard helping you with those before his lips are on you once more, only parting from you as he removes your nightgown, the fabric forcing you to separate for just a moment before you claim him again.
It feels like déjà vu as Gale presses you back into the mattress, his body caging you in, cocooning you in a heady warmth as his scent surrounds you.
Flashes of your dream come to mind once more, and you’re forced to swallow the moan that Gale lets out, his teeth nipping gently at your bottom lip as he begs for entrance.
You grant his silent request eagerly, moaning unabashedly agsint him as his tongue presses forward to glide against your own.
Gale has always been a giving lover, desperate to show you how much he loves you when his words sometimes fail him. Even now you can tell he’s hells bent on indulging your fantasies. But it feels different…It feels as if he’s more eager than usual. His lips less precise, his fingertips digging just a bit harder into your hips…
He’s ravenous.
And who are you to complain?
Sensing your thoughts, you can feel Gale smile agsint your lips, his voice flooding your mind once more as you open your own to the spell.
“Ravenous, indeed,” he affirms, his hand snaking it’s way back up your sternum, closing deftly around your throat as he pulls away only to gaze down at you.
His lips are swollen from your charred kisses, chest quickened with short pants, eyes blown wide with lust as he fully takes you in beneath him.
“I have seen your desires in your minds eye,” he says aloud, voice drenched in pure sin. “But perhaps I may make a suggestion?”
You can only nod, a whimper slipping past your lips as his fingers tighten against your pulse point, teasing you with the barest hint of pressure.
He smiles down at you - a wicked cunning thing, and you can’t help the way the coil in your belly pulls ever more taut, blood hot with ecstasy at the gleam in his eyes.
He leans back down, another soft incantation falling from his lips before they capture your own again, and he’s speaking in your mind again just as a ghostly touch brushes against the delicate skin of your inner thigh.
“With my hands most occupied-“ he flexes his hand against your throat, finally giving you the pressure you wish for as his other hand support himself beside your head. “I’ll need another to assist.”
He gives you no true warning before you feel a hand at your center, palm pressed agsint your clit as two fingers drag agonizingly slow through your slick folds.
Gale’s hand cuts off the moan that bubbles up in your throat, lips swallowing what little sound does slip through, as your hips buck up into his own.
Mage hand.
You barely have time to register that the sneaky bastard had cast the spell before the extension of himself is teasing you one more, pressing against that bundle of nerves before moving down to sink two fingers into you.
Gale presses his fingers deeper into the sides of your throat as you groan once more - both from the magic pleasuring you and the rush in your head from the way he chokes you.
You don’t even realize how close you were to the edge until this moment. The pressure building in your core and in your head feeling like too much in the best way possible.
Everything feels like it’s been dialed to one hundred. The threads of the sheets beneath your skin, the smell of Gale surrounding you, the way his lips brush against your cheek when he breaks from the kiss, the fingers moving inside of you - brushing against that spot that makes you see stars.
You can feel the way his breath comes out in short bursts, the air warm against your dewy skin as he presses his body into your own.
It’s just like your dream again. Him cocooning you entirely, his smell making your mouth water, his hand against your throat making your head pound, and his magic finally throwing you over the edge.
You come with little warning to the wizard above you, but you’re sure he is able to tell. Whether it be from your jumbled thoughts no doubt being shouted at him from your connection, or the fact that he knows you so well…He’s prepared.
As you tumble over that precipice, Gale applies just a little more pressure to your throat, enough so you can still gain air, but just barely.
You can feel your pulse pounding beneath his fingertips, your breath scratching against your throat as ecstasy consumes you. It feels as if pure starlight ignites in your veins, a ragged moan breaking through as you arch up into the body above you, seeking more from your lover as he does the same, grinding his hips into yours.
Gale reaches his own end virtually untouched, the mere friction from your body against his and the pure pleasure of indulging your fantasy has him spending himself on your stomach with a groan.
His grip around your neck loosens before disappearing entirely as he all but collapses against you, uncaring of the mess between you two as he slips strong arms around you before rolling to the side, taking you along with him.
It’s a few moments before either of you speak, and you realize both the mage hand and the detect thought spells have ended. No doubt Gale’s own end brought about the disruption of his concentration. But when words finally come, it’s Gale who speaks first.
His fingers brush against your neck gently, barely a whisper of skin against skin as he takes a deep breath.
“I fear I may have gotten carried away,” he says softly, brows furrowed in concern as you pull away just enough to look at him.
You reach up, your fingers bumping against his own and can feel the way your skin burns just slightly hotter where his hand was earlier. There must be faint marks of your activities, and you have to try to quell the new stab of arousal that shoots through you.
“You didn’t,” you assure him, reaching up to cup his cheek. “It was perfect.”
His face relaxes at your words, lips tugging upwards slightly.
“Yes, well…Next time perhaps you can indulge me with your deepest fantasies verbally, instead of waking me in the middle of the night.”
You raise a questioning brow at him, hands sliding up until you can slide your arms around his neck.
“Are you saying you didn’t enjoy yourself?”
Gale scoffs, nearly choking on air. “By the gods, no!” He says, aghast. “I’m simply saying that perhaps, in the future, we can disclose our fantasies more readily…So we may indulge as we please.”
You hum softly, eyes widening at his words.
“Our fantasties?” You question, watching as a blush starts to tinge the wizard's cheeks.
“Ah, well - ehm - Yes. You didn’t think you’re the only one with uh…secret desires, did you?”
Slowly, you move so that Gale is laid out beneath you as you straddle his wait, hands planted on his chest as you gaze down at him.
“And…what would your fantasies be?”
Gale pauses for a moment, unsure. But you lean down to press a quick kiss to his cheek, before pulling back, a smirk on your lips.
“Come, my love,” you tease. “How about I guess, hm?”
Gale lets out a soft groan at your repeat of his earlier jest, and you can’t help but laugh as his hands come up to settle on your hips. You lean down to kiss him properly this time and can’t stop the excitement pooling in your belly once more.
The night is still young, and you have a feeling that there is much more to discover.
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nothing in the world belongs to me |carmen berzatto x reader|
prompt: still new in your relationship, you show up to the bear for dinner unexpectedly, surprising carmen and the others.
based off this prompt from the other day :)
contains: fluff lol. really, it's just fluff. established-ish relationship (the others don't know). carmen being a little nervous and possessive but mainly cute <3 language.
“Alright, listen up,” Richie stood next to Sydney, flicking through the piles of tickets that were ringing through by the second. It was normal now, an expected task in their routine. “We need to walk the focaccia to table seven, please.”
“Yes, Chef!” A chorus of nearly robotic voices rose from the sizzling hiss of the lamb searing in Carmen’s pan, lifting the spatula to tip the meat over, before giving it back to the chef on the line.
“And for table nine, we’ve got a shellfish allergy, alright? So let’s triple check the cross contamination on that. T, can you handle that one?” Richie moved from his leather bound book of notes back to the ticket.
“Yes, Chef!” Tina chimed, pulling a freshly washed pan, filling it with the veal stock.
“Table nine, is that- that’s the senator?” Carmen turned to Richie, tasting the roux bubbling on Victoria’s station, giving her a curt nod of approval.
“No, that’s table eleven.” Richie hummed, looking back at his notebook. “Nine, is… a birthday. Booked online.” Carmen had already begun to drone him out, mind racing with a million other things as Richie listed the guests name. Until he got to one.
The name Carmen was sure he was hallucinating. The name no one knew- How would they know? How could they possibly know your name?
You and Carmen had been seeing each other for a little while. A few weeks that were slowly turning into months. A casual thing that was slowly turning more serious. Dates and meetups are becoming more frequent. You’d even invited him over to your place a few times, he’d spent the night last week.
Still, Carmen hadn’t managed to tell anyone. Selfishly, he liked that you were all his for now. Privacy was not guaranteed in the Berzatto house, in Carmen’s life still. He knew they meant well, they always did- he knew it wasn’t purposeful, the intrusion that almost always led to a demise. Carmen wasn’t ready for it, not yet, he still wanted you all to himself.
“Carmen?” Sydney’s voice pulled him out of his panicked trance. “Chef, are you- are you good?” Her voice lilted with that familiar suspicious quip, the one always accompanied with her lifted brows.
“What?” Carmen blinked, hands buzzing, heart thumping. He could see the window, Richie’s frame blocking most of it. “Sorry, yeah- yeah, I’m good, Chef.”
Sydney watched him carefully, a slow nod before she continued calling out orders. Carmen could feel Richie’s eyes on him, narrowed with curiosity. Carmen tried to be nonchalant, crossing the kitchen back towards Tina, his eyes cutting carefully, looking out the window.
There you were.
Sitting pretty at the middle table, surrounded by friends, some Carmen recognized from your Instagram. He’d actually logged in to the app, looked you up after the first date, consumed every photo of yours in the dark of his room. Cheeks burning with excited heat, stomach fluttering in a way he hadn’t felt since junior high.
“Alright, walk five salads to nine.” Sydney called out. “Where’s our runners? God, Richie, can you run-”
“-I got it.” Carmen called, the urgency in his tone making Tina jump behind him. Carmen took the tray before Gary could, his hands shaking as he lifted it.
“Cousin, I can get it.” Richie frowned.
“No, I-I got it.” Carmen nodded, swallowing down his fluttering nerves. His eyes cut to your table through the window, heart skipping when he saw you. “I got it. I’ll be- I’ll just be a second.”
“I don’t- I can’t even handle that one right now.” Sydney sighed in exasperation. “Alright, Chefs. Let’s get back on track.” She announced, shaking her head. Richie frowned, pulling out his phone.
Sugar’s cell buzzed against the hostess stand, excusing herself to check it.
From: Richie
‘Look at table nine.’
Sugar huffed.
To: Richie
‘Why? Is there something wrong?’
She stepped back, casually turning to scan the room, eyes landing on the table. A small group of girls, younger, and amongst them- Carmen?
To: Richie
‘Is something wrong with the food? Do I need to comp it?’
From: Richie
‘No. Cousin wanted to go out there.’
Sugar frowned, angling her body behind the large plant near the front as casually as she could. She watched through the leaves as Carmen passed out the salads, each girl grinning widely, but their eyes always cut to one on the end.
Carmen saved your salad for last, hoping the lowlights of the restaurant would hide his boyish blush, setting the bowl in front of you carefully. “Hey,”
“Hi,” You smiled sheepishly, looking to meet his gaze. “Everything looks so good.”
“Yeah? Thanks.” Carmen nodded. “I-I didn’t know you were comin’ tonight.”
“I’m sorry.” You cringed softly, embarrassed heat flooding through your veins. You knew better, knew you shouldn’t have done this- showed up at his restaurant unannounced.
“I, uh, it’s my friend’s birthday.” You nodded towards Alicia at the end of the table. “And I was telling them about that pasta you made me, and they really wanted to come try it.” Your nerves bubbled, rambling in nervous peals that seemed to pour out before you could stop them.
“Yeah, no, that’s really nice. Thank you.” Carmen nodded, giving a half smile to your friends, hoping they didn’t see the way he wiped his clammy hands on his apron. “Why didn’t- Why didn’t you just call me? Tell me you were comin’ in.”
“I didn’t want to bother you.” You muttered softly. “I honestly didn’t think you’d even see us here, I swear. I didn’t mean to bother you or anything-”
“-You’re not bothering me.” Carmen’s voice dropped to a coo, accompanied with a soft smile that had your head spinning. “Never a bother, but, uh, next time? Bother me, ok? Wanna make sure you get the best seat in the house.”
Your cheeks flushed with heat, your friends excited giggles only intensifying the rushing heat blanketing over your body. Carmen’s own cheeks heated, tongue rolling on the inside of his cheek to hide his grin.
“Alright?” Carmen added, and in a complete act of shocking boldness, his hand squeezed your shoulder affectionately. A small gesture on the outside, but for Carmen, it was huge.
“Alright.” You grinned, leaning into his touch, your hands sliding over his.
“How’s everything so far?” Carmen turned to the table, nodding at the excited gushes of compliments, not missing the way your friends cut their eyes to you with animated glee.
“Just let me know if you need anything, ok?” Carmen turned to you.
“I will.” You nodded, starry eyed with love sick affection.
“Good. I’ll see you before you leave, alright?” Carmen muttered, ducking down towards you. His lips brushed over your cheek, your perfume clouding his senses. “You’re not botherin’ me. ‘M glad you’re here.”
Your cheek pressed to his, a gentle, affectionate rub before Carmen parted. Both of your features painted with shy delight.
Carmen could feel everyone’s eyes, through flickering gazes and lifted brows. Sydney’s gaze lingering over him skeptically, still counting tickets. Fak’s wide grin from the corner, loading trays to take out.
“Hey, uh, Marcus.” Carmen ignored Richie’s raised brows, a teasing, questioning remark on the tip of his tongue.
“Yes, Chef?” Marcus muttered, looking up from the cannolis he was garnishing.
“Table nine has a birthday. I was thinkin’ maybe the chocolate ganache, punch it with the little circle to make it look like a cake. Add a candle?” Carmen muttered, hand rubbing across his face.
“Yeah, Chef, I can do that.” Marcus nodded.
“Thank you.” Carmen nodded. “And Chef? Let me know when it’s ready before you walk it.”
Marcus frowned. “No, it’s not- I just wanna walk it, ok?” Carmen shook his head.
“Alright.” Marcus nodded slowly. “Heard, Chef.”
Richie smirked, leaning against the stainless steel table. “So,” Richie hummed. “There a complaint or somethin’? Need me to go talk to ‘em-”
“-No,” Carmen snapped, the possessiveness in his tone startling the both of them. “Sorry, it’s- No, I-I don’t need you to do that, Chef. Everything’s good.”
Richie nodded slowly, passing the dishes to Gary with a nod. “You gonna tell me what that was about?”
“No, Chef.” Carmen clipped, an edge to his tone that was teetering on annoyed. “But, uh, there’s not gonna be a check on table nine.”
“What?” Richie frowned. “Did you mess somethin’ up? Seriously, Cousin, if something's wrong it’s my job to know-”
“-No, it’s not-.” Carmen huffed, eyes pinching closed, running a hand over his face in frustration. “Look, that’s… The girl on the end? I-I’ve been kinda seein’ her, ya know?” He muttered.
Richie gawked, blinking in disbelief. “No shit.” He grinned. “No shit? You-You’re serious?” He turned to look out the window.
“Don’t fuckin’ look.” Carmen hissed. “Look, it-it’s not a big deal, alright? Just don’t-don’t say anything o-or do anything.”
Richie swallowed back a teasing remark, a reactive reaction from years of being with Mikey. How the two of them used to tease Carmen endlessly, until they were fighting on the front lawn, Mikey howling with laughter while Carmen was red faced with mortified anger.
This time, Richie held back. He wasn’t sure why, call it divine intervention, a gut feeling maybe, but it felt different this time.
“Alright.” Richie nodded slowly. “No ticket for nine. Heard.”
Carmen’s foot tapped anxiously. “I mean, right? Th-That’s what I should do right?” Carmen looked over his shoulder out the window. “That would be shitty to give her a check? Be a complete jagoff move to charge her?”
“Yeah,” Richie scoffed lightly. “Jagoff of the fuckin’ year. Makin’ your girl pay to come to your place.”
Carmen’s heart swelled at the term- your girl. His girl. You were his girl.
“Walk four Pappardelle to nine. Walk one Pappardelle vegetarian style to nine.” Sydney called.
Carmen dipped the spoon in the glaze, garnishing the plate before sliding it towards Sydney. “So, you gonna take these out?” He muttered.
“No,” Carmen huffed. “Gonna wait until the cake.”
“Yeah, good idea, Cousin.” Richie nodded with a proud smile. “That when you’re gonna tell them no check tonight?”
“No,” Carmen shook his head. “I don’t- It would feel weird comin’ from me.” He looked up at Richie. “I was gonna let you do it.”
“Yeah, I can handle that.��� Richie smirked. “And I won’t say anything, Cousin.” He stopped Carmen before he could say it. “I got you, Cousin. I won’t fuck it up, alright?”
Carmen nodded slowly, a strangled thank you on the tip of his tongue. The door swung open behind Richie, and for a second, Carmen caught a glimpse of you. Smiling and laughing, leaned in over the table, no doubt giggling with your friends about him. Carmen’s heart squeezed, but this time, without fear. No, there was no dooming fear that you were mocking him, making fun of him. This time, he felt the content rush of adrenaline filled love. A change in his routine, yes. Unexpected, sure, but he was glad for it. Glad that you were there- here, with him.
#thebearer#bearblahs#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x reader#the bear#carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto fluff#carmen 'carmy' berzatto#carmen berzatto blurb#carmen berzatto imagine#carmy x you#carmen berzatto x fem!reader#carmen berzatto x female!reader#carmen berzatto x you#richie jerimovich#marcus brooks#sydney amadu#tina the bear#neil fak#sugar berzatto#carmy fluff#carmy berzatto fluff#the bear fic#carmy the bear#the bear fanfiction#the bear hulu#carmen berzatto fic#carmen berzatto fanfiction#thebearerblurbs
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Trophy wife
Pt. 2 is out - It´s Mutual
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader
Word Count: ~ 4.5K
Warnings: Typical case descriptions, kissing and petting, enemies to lovers, a set up for a smut.
Summary: When an unsub targets trophy wives, (Y/N) is asked to go undercover with her nemesis, Spencer Reid, posing as a couple to lure the killer. As they navigate a high-stakes operation, tensions escalate, blurring the lines between their professional and personal animosity.
Preview: "All this animosity, the bickering... we don't actually hate each other; we want each other.” He stared into my eyes before continuing, “And I don't think I can go another day without tasting you."
A/N: Hi everyone, this is my first-ever fanfiction. I initially wanted to write smut, but to add depth, I decided to craft this background story. English is not my first language. I hope you all enjoy it, and any and all comments are appreciated 🍒
“Are those poker chips?” Derek asked as the images from the most recent crime scene appeared on the screen behind Garcia.
"Bingo, my lucky charm! Those are poker chips, and you've hit the jackpot," Garcia continued. “This is the second woman to be found in a motel room stabbed and extremely beaten in the last two weeks.”
“The Vegas police have requested our help,” Hotch informed as he analyzed the pictures.
Ross quirked up his eyebrows as an amused smile played on his lips. "Well, either he really likes poker, or he's on a mission to prove that crime can be a high-stakes game…"
"Well, he's certainly raising the stakes in our investigation," I added, my remark eliciting another round of chuckles.
"Children, behave, please," JJ attempted to redirect the team's focus to the situation at hand.
As I scanned the pictures, my index finger reached above the image on the table. "The persistent appearance of poker chips as a signature strongly suggests a connection to the unsub’s personal experiences, perhaps indicating a deep involvement with poker, possibly even as a player. Maybe…”
“While symbolism is intriguing, we should prioritize empirical evidence. Jumping to conclusions based on perceived patterns might lead us astray." My brows furrowed in annoyance as I turned my head, hearing him cut off my train of thought. His tone carried a subtle bitterness, as if questioning the validity of my analysis.
And there he fucking was again, Dr. Spencer Reid, incessantly questioning my every move, as if my mere presence irked him to no end.
Our "relationship," if you could really call it that, was basically just a constant back-and-forth of arguing, interruptions, and tension you could practically cut with a knife. We tried to keep it professional for the team's sake, but it was obvious we weren't exactly best buds.
And what kept his skepticism going wasn't just about work competition; it was personal. He had this lingering grudge because I had stepped in after his buddy, Alex Blake, bailed on the BAU, leaving him behind.
To be honest, his animosity seemed mostly one-sided. At first, I admired Spencer's intellect and respected his dedication to the job. Plus, let's be real, I wasn't blind—I definitely noticed he was a good-looking guy. But his hostility kind of pushed me to throw up walls and respond with a guarded attitude. And then, well, naturally, I found some twisted enjoyment in getting under his skin and making him lose his cool.
"How can you have an IQ of 182 and yet be so clueless?" I scoffed, laughing. "Sure, you're intelligent, but common sense seems to elude you at times."
Reid stared for a moment, a mix of shock and rage flickering across his otherwise monotone, expressionless face. His eyes narrowed, and he responded curtly, "It's 187, and (Y/N), I would advise you to mind your manners when addressing me. My intelligence surpasses yours by far more than a number could explain."
As he stood there, staring into my eyes, arms crossed by the presentation board, a surge of irritation pulsed through me. I was poised to respond, the words itching at the tip of my tongue, but before I could unleash them, Derek intervened. With a subtle shift in his posture, he leaned in towards the table, effectively redirecting our focus.
A deliberate clearing of his throat signaled the shift in conversation. "The sheer brutality of these killings unmistakably points to an unsub fueled by intense rage. The way the victims were forcefully and repeatedly stabbed suggests a perpetrator with considerable physical strength and stamina.”
"The messy and disorganized scene adds another layer to the unsub's profile. Women just tend to be cleaner, so we are definitely dealing with a man,” JJ added.
“They are waiting for us, we can discuss the rest of the preliminary profile on the jet, wheels up in thirty,” Hotch said as he stood up, the team following right after.
--x--
As I focused on the files spread out in front of me, the sound of the door swinging open abruptly pulled my attention away. "We've got another body," Hotch announced, his voice cutting through the silence that lingered in the small meeting room lent to us by the Las Vegas police.
By now, we had successfully linked the unsub to the world of poker. Our victims, all married, had been last seen with their partners at casinos during poker nights, forming a clear pattern. Despite our breakthroughs, the mystery surrounding his identity and motive remained unsolved.
"Rebecca Miller, 29 years old, was last seen with her husband at Riverside Casino," Hotch added, his tone steady as he placed the picture of the victim on the board. "Witnesses report they were very affectionate. Her husband mentioned she went to get them drinks before she disappeared," he continued, his gaze scanning the room, inviting any additional insights or comments from the team.
"She definitely fits the victimology—young, beautiful, and married to an avid poker player," JJ remarked casually as she got up to take a closer look at the picture.
Rossi gazed into the distance, lost in thought. "They must be raking in serious cash playing poker. Why else would these stunners be tying the knot with someone clearly out of their league?" he mused aloud.
As I scanned the pictures of the victims, a realization began to form in my mind. Each photograph depicted a strikingly beautiful woman, always beside her husband, who often appeared much older or less attractive in comparison. "They're trophy wives," I exclaimed, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place.
I glanced to my left, where Reid stood, scoffing and shaking his head. "Trophy wives?" he immediately questioned, his focus remaining fixed on the board as he continued drawing lines for the geographical profile.
"Well, think about it," I elaborated, gesturing toward the pictures of the women. "These women, young and beautiful, carefully curated for a certain image, accompanying their husbands to the poker games, spending the entire night all over them. How had we not seen this glaring pattern before?"
"That's a rather simplistic and uninformed view, (Y/LN)," he countered. "These women had successful careers. Assuming they're merely trophy wives diminishes their individuality."
"Just because they have successful careers doesn't negate the potential of being used as accessories," I countered, locking eyes with Reid as he turned to face me. "It's not about undermining their achievements but acknowledging the potential for a specific dynamic in their relationships. We need to explore all possibilities, not just those that fit neatly into your rational worldview."
"Acknowledging possibilities is one thing, but chasing baseless theories is another," Reid retorted, his tone measured. "We can't afford to indulge in wild conjectures without solid evidence."
"Sometimes you're so buried in your 'facts' that you miss the human element of the cases," I remarked, chuckling dismissively as I shook my head to the side.
"It's called objectivity, (Y/LN)," he asserted, stepping closer until he stood before me, his hands slipping into his pockets in a gesture of dominance. "Something you might want to consider before letting personal biases cloud your judgment."
"I'm the one who lets personal biases cloud my judgment?!" I retorted, my voice rising as frustration bubbled up within me.
He remained silent for a moment, his expression unreadable.
"You've got to be kidding me," I continued, my tone escalating gradually. "You're the one who's been acting like a little bitch to me since I joined the team, so don't lecture me about taking things personally here."
Still, he said nothing, his hands now clenched into fists at his sides.
"You've had a problem with me from day one," I pressed on, "and it's about damn time you admit it instead of acting like such a child about it."
"This is about doing our job objectively," Reid retorted, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice. "Your presence doesn't change the standards we uphold in the BAU, but clearly you don’t meet them."
"That's enough!" Hotch's voice boomed, commanding attention as he intervened. His gaze shifted from Reid to me, a subtle warning in his eyes. "I think we should explore that possibility," he acknowledged, nodding towards my earlier suggestion. "It seems reasonable. Apart from that, are there any more leads we need to consider?"
Spencer turned on his feet, his movements purposeful as he approached the board. "Actually, I've been working on the geographical profile," he began "And it seems that, looking at the last victim’s place of abduction, he is moving in a straight line." With a marker in hand, he started drawing on the board, "Look at this: the first victim was last seen at the Lotus Casino Central, the second victim at the Charlaton, and now Rebecca at the Riverside. It's a straight line, which means..."
"He's heading for the Bellagio next," JJ chimed in, seamlessly connecting the dots of Spencer's thoughts. Spencer nodded in confirmation, acknowledging her insight.
Rossi rose from his seat and joined Spencer by the board. "Now that we know where he's likely to strike next, perhaps we can set up an operation to catch him; he’s been striking on poker nights."
Hotch leaned forward, his brow furrowed in concentration as he considered the strategy. After a moment of contemplation, he straightened up and cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the team. "Yes, an undercover op might be our next chance."
His gaze fell on me, lingering for a moment as he addressed me directly. "Y/n," he began,"You have experience as an undercover agent, and you actually resemble the victims," he observed, "Would you mind going in?"
The room fell silent as the weight of the proposition settled among us.
"Yeah… sure," I responded quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.
Derek immediately sensed my apprehension and offered reassurance with a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Hey, it's okay," he said softly. "You're not going in alone. It has to be a couple, so you'll have someone to have your back."
"Can you come with me?" I asked, my voice tinged with a mix of vulnerability and hope.
"Actually," Hotch interrupted, straightening in his chair, "I want Reid to go with you."
My head fell into my hands as I sighed, dreading the complications that might arise. The weight of Hotch's decision settled heavily on my shoulders, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease at the thought of partnering with Reid for this undercover operation.
"Sir, with due respect," Spencer began, but Hotch raised his hand to stop him from continuing.
"(Y/N) needs a poker player husband; you’re the only one who could actually pass as an avid poker player," Hotch explained simply, as if it were that straightforward. "I trust you can both behave professionally and put your differences aside?" His tone sounded more like an order than a question.
"Let's get to work then," Rossi said, his tone decisive, as I let my head rest on the table. It dawned on me that this was the only option to ever catch this guy.
--x--
JJ pulled out all the strings, ensuring we had everything necessary to play our roles seamlessly. With meticulous attention to detail, she provided a stunning black dress that hugged my curves perfectly, matching pumps that elongated my legs, and exquisite jewelry that added a touch of elegance to the ensemble. Among the glittering gems, she placed an engagement ring and wedding band, enhancing the authenticity of our charade.
As I admired my reflection in the mirror, a wave of mixed emotions washed over me. The thought of spending the upcoming night with Spencer made my heart race, a strange feeling stirring within me.
My mind constantly drifted towards the way we were supposed to behave, thoughts swirling with anticipation. I imagined his touch, knowing that as a couple, he would have to be close, his hands possibly lingering on my body. How would it feel? Would I be able to maintain eye contact as he stared me down during our conversations?
I sighed heavily, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. Despite this being an undercover mission, it felt strangely intimate, as if I was gearing up for a date with him. The prospect of going out and spending time with Spencer was something I'd never experienced before, and it left me feeling nervous, even though I couldn't quite admit it to myself.
Maybe if things hadn't unfolded as they did, Spencer and I could've found common ground. Perhaps we could've forged a genuine connection, evolving into friends, or even something more meaningful. But fate had a different plan for us.
From the moment we crossed paths, our destinies seemed entwined in conflict rather than harmony, and I remember the day I met him all too well.
We had just finished the tour, and Derek was now showing me to my desk.The ding of the elevator caught my attention, and there he stood. I've heard of Dr. Reid, everyone talked about him – his genius IQ of 187, his remarkable accomplishments at such a young age. But amidst all the praise for his intellect, no one ever mentioned how good-looking he actually was.
"Pretty boy," Derek exclaimed with a grin as he welcomed him. I couldn't help but agree silently. It was indeed a fitting nickname, Spencer was undeniably attractive. "Come meet our new member, Y/n Y/Ln."
With a smile I reached out my hand instinctively, ready to greet him, but to my surprise, he took a light step back.
"Sorry, I don't shake hands," he said dismissively, his tone somewhat curt. "Did you know that the average person carries about 4,000 bacteria on their hands? It's a breeding ground for germs. It's actually safer to touch a toilet seat."
I stood there, utterly dumbfounded. Did he genuinely suggest that touching a toilet seat is cleaner than shaking my hand?
"You really know how to make a girl feel special, Agent Reid," I retorted, rolling my eyes as Derek chuckled at the situation.
"It's Doctor, not Agent," he corrected, his tone matter-of-fact as he swiftly made his way to his desk.
My mind raced, attempting to conjure a response, but he had already moved on, leaving me standing there, still processing what had just happend.
"Are you ready, or should I tell the unsub to wait because you need to keep fixing your lipstick?" a voice spoke from the darkness of my room.
“Jesus fucking Christ Reid, what the fuck is wrong with you?" I jumped from my place, surprised to see him standing there, leaning on the frame of my bathroom door. "No one ever taught you how to knock on a door?" I muttered under my breath.
"First of all, your door was unlocked, and second of all," he shook his head disapprovingly. "That's a very foul mouth you have, you should really watch your tongue," he chided. I felt his gaze lingering appreciatively on how the dress hugged my curves and accentuated my breasts.
From the corner of my eye, I lightly took in his appearance. The tailored suit fit him like a glove, different from what he wore every day. He looked more relaxed, better, hotter.
I was taken aback when I saw him move and enter the bathroom. My heart started racing as he stood by my side, exchanging a glance with me in the mirror.
"Honestly?I don't think he'd mind waiting for me” I straightened up, finally satisfied with my lipstick.
"Too bad he won't get to see it," he said, chuckling.
His left hand met my hip, swiftly turning me around, and I gasped as the small of my back hit the bathroom counter. His own body caged me in, his intense gaze never leaving mine as I looked at him, confused yet strangely drawn to him. His right hand reached for a wipe, and he gently cleared any remnants of the red lipstick. I felt the cold, wet cloth on my lips, erasing any traces of the vivid stain.
"If we're going to act like a couple, I don't want your lipstick all over me," Spencer remarked dryly, his expression unamused.
"It's not my fault you don't know how to kiss a girl with lipstick, Doctor," I retorted, my annoyance evident in my tone.
"You look good enough," Spencer remarked with a smirk. "I'll be waiting for you in the car." With that, he turned and headed out, leaving me to gather my thoughts before joining him.
"Well, this is going to be a long night," I sighed.
--x--
As Spencer drove us to the casino, we found ourselves going over the details of the plan. It was simple; our initial objective was to seamlessly integrate into the casino's scene, mirroring the couples we were emulating.
The plan dictated that Spencer and I had to project the image of a couple deeply in love, sharing glances, engaging in affectionate gestures, and creating an atmosphere that would draw the unsub's attention. Spencer would transition to the poker tables, just as the husbands of the previous victims had, all while showcasing his "trophy wife."
As the night progressed, I would strategically separate from Spencer to lure the unsub into action.
Inside the casino, Rossi and Morgan were playing their part as players, keeping an eye out. The rest of the team was in a van, ready to jump in if things went south.
The objective was clear – act like a couple. How hard could that be?
The tension in the car was palpable, and we exchanged glances, silently acknowledging the complexity of our roles. The success of the operation hinged on our ability to draw the unsub's attention, making him believe we were just another couple enjoying a night out.
The atmosphere in the casino buzzed with energy as Spencer and I entered. The dim lights, the soft murmur of conversations, and the distant chiming of slot machines created a captivating ambiance.
As we made our way to the bar, I reached for Spencer's hand and intertwined my fingers with his.
His eyebrows immediately shot up, a silent question evident in his expression as he glanced at me, perhaps surprised by the sudden display of affection.
"The more convincing we are, the more it'll attract the unsub's attention," I replied, my voice hushed but determined.
His gaze flickerd between our intertwined hands and my face. "Yeah," a small grin playing on his lips. "Just make sure you don't take it too far and end up falling for me."
"That's a good one, Dr. Reid," I chuckled softly, a hint of sarcasm lacing my words. "I'll try to contain myself."
We approached the bar, and Spencer took a seat on a stool. As I moved to stand by his side, he surprised me by pulling me closer, guiding me between his legs. His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me snug against him. I was taken aback, but I didn't say a word. Acting like a couple—that was the plan.
It was just all part of the plan.
"So what should I call you?" Spencer cut through our silence, his gaze focused on mine.
"What should you call me?" I echoed, my voice filled with confusion as I furrowed my brows.
"I'm not going to address you by your real name," Spencer said matter-of-factly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "We need undercover names. So, what's it going to be?"
His eyes scanned my features, awaiting my response, while I took a moment to ponder.
"How about pretty girl?" he proposed with a smirk, his gaze lingering on me. My expression must have betrayed my surprise, but before I could respond, he continued, "Or how about Angel?" The endearing term rolled off his tongue, and I felt a flutter in my chest at the sound.
"Angel seems to resonate with you," he teased, a chuckle escaping his lips, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he awaited my reaction.
I felt the heat rising to my cheeks, rendering me momentarily speechless.
I closed my eyes, disbelief washing over me. Was this real? Was Spencer really saying these things to me? And during a mission, no less?
"You seem awfully quiet for someone who doesn't know how to shut the fuck up," he said, his lips brushing against the side of my neck.
"If I'd known all I had to do was call you angel, I would've done it sooner."
"Sweet names will only get you so far," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. Despite the warmth spreading through me at his words, I couldn't shake off the sense of disbelief at the way he was acting.
"Oh yeah?" Spencer asked, his tone amused, as I felt his breath tickling my neck before his lips brushed against my skin, leaving a small kiss on my pulse point. My breath caught in my throat, and my heart pounded in my chest as he slowly moved his hands along my waist and lower back. I couldn't focus on anything but the warmth of his body pressed against mine, sending shivers down my spine.
"Doctor Reid, this is highly inappropriate," I managed to utter.
“On the contrary, my sweet Angel," he spoke softly as his small kisses traveled up my neck. "See, this mission requires us to act like a couple, so I'm simply enjoying my time with my wife,” he lightly chuckled as he reached my jawline. “As you said, the more convincing we are, the more it'll attract the unsub's attention”
Suddenly, Hotch's voice disrupted the moment as he barked over the wire in my ear, "Guys, great job. We've got a male in his late 30s to early 40s staring at you; he's moved closer since you arrived. He could be our unsub."
I heard Hotch's words, but my brain struggled to process them as I was too focused on Spencer's eyes, his gaze fixed on mine while his hands lightly pressed me closer.
"Come on, Angel, let's give him a show," Spencer pleaded, his voice laced with a confidence that both shocked and intrigued me. It was unexpected to witness this side of him, but there was something undeniably exciting about it. Perhaps it was his confidence and assertiveness, or maybe it was the way he was taking control and leading the interaction.
"Yeah.... let´s.... let´s do it" I lightly nodded my head, I swear he could feel the pounding of my heart against my chest from how close he stood to me.
His right hand reached my face, his touch gentle against my skin. "Angel," he spoke quietly against my lips, his voice barely a whisper. "I'll only keep going if you give me permission."
His eyes were dark, his lips plump, inviting, calling for my attention. I couldn't even form a "yes," but he knew what I wanted. I pulled him closer by his tie, and our lips collided in a hot, messy kiss. I was taken aback by his skill and technique, completely unable to resist him as the heat between us intensified.
Spencer pulled away and wrapped his arms around my body, embracing me in a hug. His warmth was comforting, and I felt a sense of security in his embrace.
"He's standing right behind you, gray suit, red tie, black hair," he whispered in my ear, his voice low enough not to be noticed by anyone standing nearby.
Suddenly, I was snapped back to reality. The mission. The unsub. He was standing right behind me
"Should we join them?" I asked softly, glancing over toward the tables of poker and motioning for Spencer to start playing, continuing with the plan. He was supposed to hit the games, and I needed to find a way to get myself alone.
"Absolutely, my love," Spencer said with a smile as he rose from his seat.
Still a little dazed from that kiss, my mind was on fire, and my panties were ruined. How was I supposed to continue my life after knowing the effect Spencer had on me? My racing thoughts were only interrupted by the sight of the suspect following us to the tables. Instinctively, my body reacted, and I found myself clinging to Spencer's arm, seeking comfort and reassurance in his presence.
As planned, Spencer sat down at the closest table and began playing, our actions subtly conveying intimacy to onlookers. I wrapped my arms around his neck, planting kisses occasionally, making it clear to everyone that I was his prize, and he was proudly showing me off as his trophy wife.
As he played, I showered him with praise and encouragement. "You're doing so well, baby," I whispered, my words laced with admiration. It was evident that he was enjoying the attention, his gameplay slightly faltering under the distraction of my praise. Despite being a skilled and experienced player, known for his prowess and banned from multiple casinos, he seemed momentarily thrown off his rhythm by my words of encouragement. It was a small victory, a slight advantage gained in my favour.
Feeling the need to draw the unsub away, I leaned in close to Spencer and murmured, "I'm going to step out for some fresh air on the balcony, honey. I'll be back soon."
Spencer nodded, his attention still on the cards. "Okay, sweetheart," he replied with a smile, not once lifting his gaze.
Before I turned to leave, I couldn't resist the urge to plant a quick kiss on his lips, just as part of the plan, playing my role as the devoted wife. After all, that's what a wife would do, right?
The fresh air hit my face, sending shivers down my arms. I didn't need to turn to know he had followed me outside; I could feel his presence on my right side. When I glanced over, he gestured to a drink in his hand, offering it to me. "You look like you could use a drink," he said.
My heart raced, and my breathing quickened as he got closer, but I kept a cool, confident attitude, determined not to let him see my nerves.
"(Y/N), don't drink that. It's laced," Morgan's urgent voice snapped through the wire, jolting me into alertness. "Just keep him talking so Garcia can check him."
My blood ran cold as I registered Morgan's warning. Without missing a beat, I forced a smile and nodded, "Thank you, handsome, but I've had enough tonight," I replied smoothly, declining the drink with a casual wave of my hand.
"That's a big rock on your finger," he pointed out, glancing at my, unknowingly, fake engagement ring. "Why are you here all alone? Where's your husband?" he continued, raising an eyebrow and asking the question directly, as if he didn't already know the answer.
"Well…" I laughed, injecting a flirtatious edge into my voice. "I could ask the same thing," I continued, "Where is Mrs…?"
"Mrs. Desmond? She stayed at home; she doesn't really like poker," he replied nonchalantly. "I'm Steve, by the way," he added, reaching out to shake my hand.
I shook his hand, my heart quickening as I heard Garcia speak from my wire: "Steve Desmond, a 39-year-old banker, is divorced; according to court files, his wife left him after he lost all of their money on poker.” The sound of clicking keyboards could be heard in the background. "The divorce dates coincide with the killings,” Garcia added.
“That sounds like a trigger,” Hotch's voice chimed in.
"Holy moly, he also assaulted a prostitute a couple of years ago, but the charges were dropped and he was never convicted," Garcia spoke nervously.
"That's our guy, (Y/N). Keep him talking; we're on our way,” Hotch said, his voice steady and authoritative.
"Is everything okay?" Steve spoke, his tone taking on a hint of aggression as he grabbed my attention. "Maybe you should take that drink."
“I'm not thirsty, thanks,” I replied firmly, stepping back in an attempt to keep my distance. However, he refused, reaching out and gripping my arm to keep me from moving.
"I'm telling you," he said angrily, his grip tightening. "You're clearly nervous. Just a tiny sip won't hurt." I tried to break free of his grasp, but he was stronger than me and refused to let go
"FBI!" Suddenly, I saw Spencer coming up behind him, his fist connecting with the guy's face with a solid punch, knocking him back into the wall. He was strong and quick; the unsub didn't stand a chance against him. Spencer swiftly pulled out his handcuffs, cuffing him without even breaking a sweat.
"Steve Desmond, you're under arrest for the killings of Amanda Crane, Juliet Sand, and Rebecca Miller,” Spencer announced, his voice firm and authoritative.
Morgan and Rossi soon appeared, Morgan helping the unsub up from the ground and carrying him out as he spoke, "Steve Desmond, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to talk to an attorney for advice before we ask you any questions. You have the right to have an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford it…” His voice faded as they left, escorting the suspect away from the scene.
Once they were out of sight, Spencer came up to me and reached for my arm, his expression filled with concern. I winced as he touched the red marks left behind by the unsub's grip.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice full of concern and care, his eyes searching mine for any sign of distress.
"Um, yeah…" I replied softly, my voice shaky. "I just need a moment to process this." My heart was still racing from the encounter, and I needed a moment to collect myself.
Why did he step in like that? I thought to myself, a mixture of gratitude and confusion washed over me. I could've handled the situation on my own—I was trained for this, after all. Yet, there he was, interfering in my work.
After the quiet ride back to the motel, Spencer led me to the door of my room. As we stood there, I realized I could no longer contain the annoyance for how he had handled the situation. The tension of the evening had been building inside me, and I needed to let it out.
"Spencer," I began, my voice tinged with frustration. "I appreciate that you were trying to help, but I had it under control. I didn't need you to intervene so quickly," the frustration bubbled inside me, I couldn't help but wonder why Spencer felt the need to intervene. I felt like I had done a great job handling the situation, and his actions made me feel as though he had robbed me of an opportunity to take down the unsub myself.
Spencer's eyes widened in shock as he opened his mouth to speak. "Oh, really?" he said incredulously. "I didn't realize you had everything under control. I just figured that the guy having his hands all over you and aggressively grabbing your arm was cause for concern. But clearly, you didn't need any help."
"Oh, right, because clearly, I was in so much danger," I snapped sarcastically.
"I'm not going to sit around and watch some creepy-as-hell psychopath put his hands all over you," Spencer said firmly, shaking his head in disbelief. His brows furrowed in concern, his eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and genuine worry. "I won't let him put you at risk of being hurt … or worse." His tone was sharp "Get it through your head; I'm not going to let that happen."
"Oh, right, I wasn't aware this situation called for a 'white knight' to swoop in and save me from myself," I retorted, my tone laced with bitterness. Crossing my arms defensively, I met his gaze head-on. "Since when did my safety become your problem?"
"Since the moment we met, you stubborn brat," Spencer snapped back, his frustration evident in his tone.
"Since the moment we met? That's so much bullshit," I shot back, my voice rising with indignation. "Since when did you care about my safety so much?" I challenged him, my eyes narrowing in disbelief. "You've never shown me any compassion before, so why now? Hun?"
And then, suddenly, his lips crashed against mine, his body pressing mine firmly against the door with a resounding thud. I felt the heat of his body press on mine, the tension that had been building between us explode in an instant.
His kiss was messy and sloppy, but damn, it was hot. There was an urgency in the way our lips crashed together, fueled by a raw desire that couldn't be tamed. As the kiss deepened, the air grew thin, and I felt myself getting breathless. With a gasp, I had to pull away,
“What the fuck was that about?” I whispered, not being able to back away from his hold.
"When I kissed you at the casino, I finally understood," he muttered, his forehead resting against mine. "All this animosity, the bickering... we don't actually hate each other; we want each other.” He stared into my eyes before continuing, “I don't think I can go another day without tasting you."
#spencer reid#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid smut#criminal minds#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x fem!reader smut#spencer reid imagine#mgg x reader#mgg smut#spencer reid x you#mgg x y/n#mgg fanfiction#mgg
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camera's on ── y.jw p.js
pairing: bf!jungwon x afab!reader x classmate!jay
word count: 3.4k+
content: no protection (wrap it up 😓), oral (m&f receiving), light mxm (ooo they're both boys,,ooo and they're kissing), exhibitionism, jay is a little mean, jw is a little dumb, recording. i think that's it
a/n: another late-night banger, wrote this at like 4am and barely proofread it because i'm just a girl 🤷. lmk if anyone wants a part two!
“shit shit shit-“ won wasn’t giving you a single break, his hand rested on top of your head as he pushed your head down into the pillows. his hips repeatedly thrust in and out of you, knocking the air out of your lungs each time as you stare back at your reflection through his phone camera.
the camera quality was shitty, blurry, and shaky, jumping any and every time won’s pelvis came in contact with your ass, but to won you looked angelic. he didn’t care how ‘bad’ it was, he could see your face red and stained with tears while also being able to see how good you took him. what he did not like was just how much the setup would come crashing down, like now.
“wait wonnie-“ jungwon throws his head back in frustration, already knowing what words were going to come out of your mouth “it fell again...” won pulls out, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips as he crawls off the bed again to grab the small device, hand running through his hair in frustration. you sit up, pulling the blankets up to cover your figure.
“we can try again another time…” jungwon holds the phone in his hand now, his hand coming up to push your hair back and cup your face. he sees the slight pout on your face, knowing you haven’t gotten the chance to finish yet. he looks down at his erection, not as hard as it was before but still there.
“let me finish you off baby,” tossing his phone to the side and tugging the blanket off of you. he grips your thighs and tugs you to the edge of the bed, kneeling between them and immediately getting to work. his tongue pressing flat against you and licking from top to bottom before inserting his muscle inside you and using his right hand to massage your clit. another failed attempt at completing one of his sex list goals, but that doesn’t mean he was going to leave his princess high and dry once again.
jungwon continues to practically make out with your cunt. burying his face in your warmth and moving his fingers from your clit and to the outside of your entrance, gently pushing two of his digits inside and feeling around the space. you can hear the slurping sounds he makes, knowing it’s messy and that his face is coated in your essence yet unable to bring yourself up to look. too overcome with the feeling of ecstasy and throwing your head back as your back arches up.
jungwon’s hips rutt against the edge of the bed, trying his best to match up with the pace of his fingers and trying to imagine the feeling of you clenching around his fingers being around his member instead.
the feeling of his fingers curling up inside you finally sending you over the edge as won digs his hips into the mattress a couple more times, lapping at your cum to properly finish himself off. the warm cum oozing out and spreading against the bed sheets and his stomach.
he might not have gotten the recording, but at least he still has you gasping for air in front of him.
【☆】★【☆】
jungwon was in a bad mood and everyone on campus could tell. his hand gripped the strap of his backpack tightly, tight enough for the vein in his arm to pop out, his eyebrows pinched together in annoyance, and the inside of his right cheek was caught between his teeth.
most of the time people would say hi and ask won how he was doing or stop him to exchange a couple of words, but anyone with working eyes could tell not to speak to the boy at that moment, let alone look at him.
jungwon tosses his bag onto the ground next to the table his friends are all studying at, all of them pausing their work to look up at him as if he had his head screwed on backward.
“who the hell spit in your coffee this morning?” sunoo scoffed, closing his book and setting his head on his palm to glare at jungwon. “that was unnecessary, interrupting our peace.” jungwon watched as sunoo rolled his eyes and sighs, jake nudging the sassy ginger.
“cmon bro he’s clearly having a rough morning.” jake gives him a sympathetic smile, ruffling sunoo’s hair to get him off of jungwon’s back. “what’s got you like.. this?” the aussie looks jungwon up and down, taking in his messy look and the bags under his eyes, “you don’t even look this bad during finals.”
jungwon plops down onto the chair, rubbing his eyes and groaning out loud. “personal issues.” trying his best to keep the situation slightly vague. the answer wasn’t enough, sunoo and jake gave him a look that said ‘like???’
“recording issues,”
“recording… like a camera?” jungwon shoots sunoo a look, coming off harsher than he meant it to be, the ginger putting his hands up in response “jeez i’m just making sure, didn’t know you had a pole up your ass today.”
“sorry hyung… it’s just really bothering me.”
“i was going to tell you to give you that junior jay’s number, but it seems like you don’t need my input.” sunoo looks away to check his nails, not bothering to further explain himself.
“who’s jay?”
“you know? the videography major from america.” jake ignores sunoo’s attitude and continues the conversation for him, filling in jungwon. “i’m sure he could help you with camera shit.”
that’s how won found himself in front of the creative arts building. a sticky note in his hand with the room number 6-107 and the name of one of his seniors. the building being the polar opposite of his majors with a sleek and cool design, making him feel as if he stepped foot onto a completely different campus.
after a couple of awkward interactions and asking people if they had seen this mysterious jay, jungwon was finally pointed towards a guy. his golden blondish hair sitting messily as he clicked away on his laptop, a nice looking camera sitting next to the device.
park jay… or jongseong. he’s not sure which one he should be calling him but his legs are dragging him right over to the older boy.
“i need your help.” jungwon stood over him, he’s eyes sharply looking at the blonde and waiting for him to look up. jay’s head slowly looks jungwon up from bottom to top, making eye contact and raising his brow, licking the corner of his lip before speaking up.
“do i know you?” jay minimizes his tabs, jungwon watching as the editing apps close one by one and the only thing left is jay’s camera roll, many thumbnails displayed on the screen in front of him. “and my services aren’t free.”
despite jay having to look up at jungwon, won is still a bit intimidated. jay’s aura is suffocating, having him swallowing down the lump in his throat to continue the conversation.
“yang jungwon. i just had a couple of questions about camera setup…”
“i guess i could spare some tips, what camera are you using?”
“my phone...”
“… do you have a tripod?”
“no…” jay blankly stares at jungwon, shutting his laptop and beginning to pack his things into his back.
“you must take me for some kind of joke.” grabbing his now-packed bag and slinging it over his shoulder done with the current conversation.
“wait wait wait i’m serious i swear. i just… haven’t gotten my start.” jay sighs deeply, his eyes stabbing jungwon with a piercing glare.
“do you have good lighting?” jungwon pauses for a second and thinks back to his room, he had some poorly strung-up led lights as well as an accent lamp in the corner of his bedroom.
“maybe…”
“you don’t have a camera, don’t have a proper setup, and you might have a lightbulb. what kind of project is this?” jay’s voice sounded flabbergasted, unable to understand jungwon’s vision from a videographer’s point of view, whatever the fuck jungwon was planning to record was going to be trash.
“a personal project.”
“well, then what the fuck is in it for me?”
“… not much.”
jungwon had no idea how he managed to do it, but now jay was standing in his bedroom, analyzing the environment, walking around the bed, and looking at the room. turning around to stare at jungwon with a look of judgment.
“are you trying to film a fucking porn?’
“whaaatt nah, nothing like that…” jungwon’s hand scratches the back of his neck, eyes avoiding the other boys.
“sure, what’s the focus point?”
“… the bed”
“alright, porn it is.”
“it’s not porn. it’s wrestling!” jungwon winces at his bad cover-up, if it wasn’t already obvious (clearly it was) he had just blown his (non-existent) cover.
“listen, every videographer has dabbled into pornography. there’s no shame, anyways i’d say this angle right here is best for a still shot.”
“what about close-ups-“ and before won could finish his sentence the sound of the front door shutting could be heard through the small apartment and the sound of your voice shouting down the empty hallway to him.
“baby, i’m home- oh we have guests??” jungwon doesn’t miss the way you quickly scan jay’s figure before leaning in to give won a peck on the lips, quickly pulling away and excusing yourself. “practice was long, i’m gonna go wash up.”
“she’s a dancer?” jungwon doesn’t fail to miss how jay keeps his eyes on you as you walk out, hands in his pockets before he resumes his conversation with won. “consultation fee is usually $100, but since you and your girlfriend are hot and you’re desperate, i could go for $75.” jay leans on the door frame, watching as you walk out of the bathroom in your shorts and sport-bra, grabbing the towel you seemed to have forgotten.
“… great, i’ll pay you this weekend.” won also didn’t fail to watch you run across the hallway to grab your favorite fuzzy towel, and he certainly didn’t miss jay calling the two of you hot.
“this weekend? you can’t be fucking serious.” jay pinches the space between his eyebrows, swearing he could feel his brain thumping against his temple dealing with the younger.
“or, my girlfriend and i could give a different form of payment?”
【☆】★【☆】
you weren’t expecting your boyfriend to sit you down on your bed after your shower, nothing but a towel wrapped around you while the guy you had briefly seen earlier set up a camera in the corner of your room. you weren’t put off though… the way his sharp eyes looked over and he adjusted the camera every few minutes was enough to have a puddle forming between your legs.
“jay’s going to be helping us with that bucket list baby?” jungwon’s sickeningly sweet voice came from in front of you, his hands rubbing your thighs as he squatted in front of you, the now identified jay working behind him. “you’re already doing such a good job and being so pretty for the camera.”
“camera’s on, just start when you’re ready.” even his voice was enough to send shivers down your spine.
“why don’t you take this off pretty?” jungwon tugs on the end of the towel, slipping it from around your form and dropping it onto the floor. his hands return to your thighs, dragging up to your waist as he raises himself to be leveled with your chest. kissing your left boob before taking your nipple into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the hardened nub.
“why don’t you make some noise for the camera, don’t make me feel like i’m wasting my time here.” jay’s harsh words paired with jungwon lightly biting down on your nipple has you letting out a high-pitched sound of satisfaction. “just like that.”
jungwon’s pushing you back and lifting your legs onto his shoulders, moving down to kiss your cunt. “put on a show for hyung? we want to make this worth it for him baby.” he marks the inside of your thighs up, leaving you to pull at your hair in frustration, the build-up not being nearly enough for you.
“please wonnie, please i need more.”
“i don’t think the camera is picking that up, say it louder pretty.” jungwon laughs against your cunt, pulling back and looking over at jay, the obvious bulge between the blonde’s legs on display. “jay hyung, why don’t you bring the camera closer, she’s dripping like crazy.”
jay moves the set-up, bringing the camera close as won moves out of the way, giving the perfect view of your cunt glistening and dripping down onto the bed. you can hear jay groan, looking up to see him straining against his slacks.
seeing jungwon and jay stand next to each other and glare at you through the screen of the camera setting something off inside of you.
“can i be the director for a moment…” you speak lowly, unsure of if the two of them would let you get your hands on the camera, but pleasantly surprised when jay hands the device over to you. jay and won continue to stand over you, watching you fumble with the camera and flip it around towards them, the visual of them looking down on you making you cower and turning you on all at once.
“what do you want us to do angel?” jay smirks at you, chuckling lightly as he watches you fumble around with the camera.
“take off your shirts…”
“what do you say, angel?”
“…please?”
“good girl.” you watch as the two of them grab the backs of their shirts and tug them over their heads, the contrast in their skin tones complimenting each other nicely.
“could you kiss too… please?”
“you remembered your manners, good job.” jay turns to face won, grabbing your boyfriend’s chin. you had never seen your boyfriend look so gone before, you usually had an idea of what he was thinking but with his empty eyes and jaw slightly dropped down you were sure you knew exactly what he was thinking. he wanted jay just as much as you did.
“you okay with kissing me, pretty boy?” the way jungwon dumbly nods back at jay makes the older suck air through his teeth. “fuck, you two are making me so hard right now.” pushing his lips against your boyfriend’s roughly, you gasping behind the camera and pushing your knees together, trying your best to hold steady and keep the two of them in frame.
without you having to give any further direction jay is pulling jungwon in by his waist, won raising his arms to tangle his hands in jay’s hair, messing up the strands that were once neatly styled.
jay’s deep groans mixed with won’s whines drive you crazy, the two of them dragging their covered-up cocks together, the layers between them making them push against each other desperately.
you put the camera down and reach for won’s belt trying your best to help only to feel a slap against your hands, jay’s hand roughly grabbing the hair on the back of your head and tilting your head up to look at him.
“what do you think you’re doing?”
you freeze, lip slightly quivering as you struggle to respond.
“i- i’m helping..” you hear jay tsk, shaking his head at you.
“jungwon, she isn’t even recording. wasn’t that the whole point of this? I might as well pack my things up and leave.”
“apologize y/n. you’re disappointing our guest.” the switch that flipped in won’s mind had you reeling. just a moment ago he was almost as out of it as you were, you couldn’t even begin to figure out how he could bounce back in a split second. his hand reached towards your face and pinched your cheek, slightly shaking your face in a teasing way. “what do you say to jay hyung?”
“i’m sorry. i’m really sorry jay.”
“how about i prop the camera up and then you can show me just how sorry you are? you’d like that yeah?” he massages the back of your head, soothing the spot he tugged on before picking up his camera and walking back over to the tripod. “help won out of those pants.”
you drop to your knees immediately getting to work, taking off won’s belt and dropping the pants to his ankle, massaging his achingly hard length through his thin boxers. you could see his member jump through the flimsy material, spit building up in your mouth at the thought of having it lay heavy on your tongue.
you’re unable to stop yourself from leaning in and sucking on the tip, the soft material between your mouth and his skin doing very little to stop you, the spot growing darker as you suckle him.
“nu uh, i need my payment first.” jay softly pushes jungwon out of the way and sits on the mattress, beckoning for the two of you to come over to him.
jay pulls his pants and underwear down, letting his irritated tip meet the cool air and slap up against his stomach. your eyes go wide, he’s thick and long. a prominent vein up the side that you’d kill to feel inside you.
“come on now, wrap those pretty lips around me.” jay spreads his legs and makes space for you between him, letting you settle between him before pulling your hair back into a loose ponytail. “say ‘ahh’” and the moment you do the most satisfying grown is leaving both jay and won’s mouths. your face flushes, proud of yourself for getting both of them to react in such a way.
jay taps his member against your tongue before pushing in with no warning, enjoying the way you gag around him and your throat clenches around his tip. you struggle to take him properly, tears building up in your eyes as you look up to him and practically plead for him to let you up.
jungwon groans beside jay, kissing up on his tan skin and marking up jay’s neck after every couple of kisses. you wanted so badly to join won and help, but the feeling of jay cock continuously thrumming against the back of your throat has you losing focus and your eyes rolling back.
“she can’t even do it on her own, why don’t you help her out won?” you pull off for a quick moment, keeping only the tip in your mouth to suck on as you watch won bite down onto jay’s neck, the older boy hissing, his length twitching in your mouth as he does so. “come on she’s waiting for you.”
won uses his thumb to wipe the spit from his lower lip, wrapping both his hands around jay’s length and pumping the older boy, waiting for you to continue bobbing your head up and down.
“fuck, i’m seeing stars right now.”
your tongue comes out the trace the underside of his member, jay’s thighs clenching underneath your hands as you push yourself to take more, won’s hands getting everything you couldn’t reach. you watch as won slightly opens his hand, letting a glob of spit slip out of his mouth and drip down onto jay’s cock, adding more to the messy mixture of precum and your spit that’s already glazing jay’s member.
you couldn’t tell if the slick sounds were because of your mouth or jungwon’s slippery hands but you do know jay was loving every moment of it and you were going to have to watch back this tape later.
without any warning your throat was being coated with a warm release, jay tugging you off as jungwon milked the rest out of him, letting the last couple of streaks paint your lips and lashes.
“show me my cum angel.” you open your mouth, one eye-opening as the other stays shut, trying to prevent the cum from getting in. jay spits into your mouth, watching as his clear liquid mixes with the pearly white one.
“pretty, i want a taste too.” your boyfriend’s hand came around your next and pulled you up to him, lips meeting and his tongue scooping jay’s fluids into his mouth, groaning at the taste of both you and his senior. swallowing down the bit of liquid he was able to get into his mouth. both you and won gulped it down before facing jay and showing him both your tongues, proof of it being all gone.
“fuck i need this on tape-“
and then you hear three beeps from the corner of the room.
“never mind, the camera just died...”
ᯓ★
@g0niki all rights reserved. do not translate or post my work anywhere without permission.
#rey's messy mind#g0niki#enha smut#jay smut#jongseong smut#jungwon smut#enhypen smut#enha scenarios#enha x reader#kpop smut#enhypen drabbles#enhypen scenarios#enha recs#enha oneshots
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