#i have no clue how i forgot to say something here
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listening to fortnight got me thinking about bakugo and reader having a very brief fling, something that happened in the past during their 20s, but stuck with both of them for years.
i touched you for only a fortnight
i touched you, but i touched you
fast forward to living in the same city, the two of you now in your 30s and end up becoming neighbors by happenstance. you're both married to other people since you only talked in shared friend group settings after said fling.
all my mornings are mondays stuck in an endless february
you watch his wife water her flowers in the garden out back while making coffee in the kitchen every goddamn morning. you have no clue why it irks you so much, that the sight of her stupid smile makes you wanna punch her lights out.
occasionally, you run into bakugo at your mailboxes after a long day at work. small talk is the only thing you two can muster - a comment about the weather or harmless compliments about each other's appearance.
"sure rained like hell yesterday."
"nice sweater, your wife buy it for you?"
"god, it's too fucking hot today."
"that dress looks nice on ya."
one night, both of your spouses are away when a storm comes raging through the city. your power goes out, leaving you in the dark because your stupid husband forgot to replace the generator. from your windows, you see bakugo's household has power and decide to hightail it over for some company.
he answers the door with a confused look on his face. "the fuck you doin' in the rain? get in here!"
bakugo makes you a coffee to share with him in the kitchen, bullshitting through the night like you used to do as twenty somethings. it felt natural, your heart soaring as you watched him laugh and retell jokes from the past. when the conversation died down, you blurted out something you didn't plan to vocalize to anyone.
"i think my husband's cheating. sometimes i just wanna kill the bastard."
caught off guard by your admittance, bakugo quirks an eyebrow at you in response. "little extreme, but i'm sure that could be arranged."
"would be cheaper than a damn divorce. that asshole would take everything from me."
he snickers, taking another sip of his coffee. "think my wife's doin' the same. comes home late and shit, never can tell me why."
"how'd we get stuck with this shit luck?" you retort, forcing a laugh from your tightened chest.
"could be worse. we're neighbors, that's fuckin' lucky for me."
i love you...it's ruining my life.
"oh? i'm starting to think that's not a coincidence anymore."
bakugo sets his mug on the countertop, turning to face you while crossing his arms over the broadness of his chest.
"might'a convinced my wife to move here. thought maybe we could be friends again."
"so you bought a fucking house next to me instead of just calling to go to dinner?" you ask mockingly, a smirk on your face as you awaited his bullshit answer.
he shakes his head with a grin of his own. "sure did."
i love you...it's ruining my life.
"how come you never ask or invite me over then? we're literal neighbors, kats."
"pretty sure my wife's scared of ya. plus, i want time with you, not us."
that makes your heart skip a beat.
"hell of a way to say you miss me." you pause before setting your own cup down on the counter. "i'm glad you're here."
"me too."
right as he's approaching you, the front door swings open.
"babe, i'm home!" his wife calls, handful of shopping bags. she sees you standing in the kitchen aside bakugo - you give her a soft wave.
"oh, hi. i didn't expect company tonight."
"her dumbass husband forgot to replace their generator. just helpin' her out."
she gives him a glare, tilting her chin up at him, almost condescendingly, as she assesses his answer.
"how unfortunate. stay as long as you need, i'm gonna go put this away."
and with that, she leaves for their bedroom to unload her shopping haul. once she's out of earshot, you turn to bakugo and chuckle under your breath.
"oh yeah, she hates me."
bakugo rolls his eyes. "let her be miserable, it's her strong suit. come on, let's go take'a look at that generator."
the generator works just fine, you unplugged it before coming over.
you were curious if there was a spark leftover between you two, only to find the fire was not only stoked, but never fully extinguished.
blasty tags; @slayfics @maddietries @queenpiranhadon @starieq ✨
#bakugo x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugo#bakugou katsuki#bnha bakugou#mha bakugou#bakugo x y/n#bakugo drabble#bakugo imagine#bakugou headcanons#bakugou drabble#bakugou x y/n#katsuki bakugou#☆.rei writes
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Exposition 2: Naming New Characters
This post is brought to you by one of the worst line deliveries in the history of Supernatural: Sam’s reveal of Ruby 2.0 in “Lazarus Rising”. Also a companion post to not playing The Pronoun Game.
—
Introducing new characters to a scene and figuring out the precise moment to announce their name without sounding clunky can be very tricky. So let’s break it down into three scenarios:
Name is known by the narrator to be given in narration
Name is either known by the narrator, to be given in dialogue, or known by another character
Name is not known to anyone in the scene but the new character
Scenario 1: Name via narration
Personally I don’t have any problem whatsoever with: “This is character, they do X.” It’s quick, inoffensive, and doesn’t need to get convoluted and over complicated.
Now, if this is meant to be a reveal to the audience, you’ll have to play the Pronoun Game for a bit until you pull the trigger (so long as it is motivated and reflects back on the characters and isn’t just because the author is bad at suspense), but I’d recommend reworking the scene so your narrator discovers this information with the reader for the lowest risk of confusing your audience.
Generally I think if you introduce a new character into a scene via epithet, then in the next paragraph have the narrator use their name, I think the audience is smart enough to pick up on: “new entity has arrived on stage = unfamiliar name must belong to them” so you can even skip the exposition tag entirely.
The cook returned from the dining room, freshly traumatized by a wild Karen.
Tyler took a breath, steadied themselves, and resumed their station.
Scenario 2: Name via other character, or dialogue
This is the aforementioned Supernatural blunder. There doesn’t appear to be a clip for this specific scene on YouTube so the moment in question:
Ruby: [Walks in through the back door] “Getting pretty slick there, Sam. Better all the time.”
Sam: [Sighs, and contemplates all his life choices that led to this moment] “What the hell’s going on around here, Ruby?” [Pause for dramatic effect and damn-near looks into the camera]
Ruby’s “Sam” is delivered seamlessly and is flavored with some dry wit, in character for Ruby.
Sam, on the other hand, not only pauses before saying her name, but emphasizes her name in a completely unnatural way. I didn't do it justice here explaining how clunky this is, just trust me.
Nothing sounds or reads quite so juvenile like awkwardly tacking on a new character’s name to dialogue when no real person would talk like that. The line serves purely as exposition and it’s glaringly obvious and uncreative?
How to fix? As I said in my other exposition post: Make it motivated. Have the name reveal come with either inflection, tonality, or dual purpose so it’s not just exposition.
Meaning:
Have speaker be trying to get the person’s attention, and call their name
Have the speaker admonish the person, using their name
If this is a happy reunion, have the speaker excitedly exclaim the name
If this is a bad reunion, have the speaker mutter, growl, whisper, or grumble the name
If this is a surprise reunion, have them speak the name like a question
Have the speaker use a nickname the new character doesn’t like, prompting a correction to their real name
Have the speaker blank, prompting the new character to supply it, while offended that they forgot
Have the known character introduce the new character after a few exchanges that isolate the narrator, prompting an explanation a la “Sorry, this is X, they’ve been my friend for years.”
Scenario 3: Name via new character
Very similar to above with the same advice: Make it motivated and double as clueing us in on something either about the new character, or about the characters’ relationship with the scene, or how they see themselves, or how they expect this meeting to go.
If they’re bold, sassy, or snarky, they introduce themselves like they expect their audience to be impressed
Or, if they expect that name to already be known, and are surprised or irritated that they must introduce themselves
Straight up, have someone ask them who they are if they’re not supposed to be there
Or have someone ask them in a social faux pas, blurting out the question and then being embarrassed by doing so
Have the asker be rude, demanding an introduction where it might otherwise not be appropriate
Have them introduce themselves with uncertainty, if they’re shy or unsure about where they’re supposed to be
You get the idea? Whatever it be, make it be in character, and you’ll pull double-duty (as most exposition should) both naming your character and immediately establishing a relationship between your characters.
Scenario 4: When plot demands you must wait
Bonus! This happens when asking for a name would ruin the pacing and be wildly out of place in whatever’s happening (like mid-fight scene), or the narrator is unable to ask for plot reasons.
In which case, this still can pull double-duty by having your narrator come up with their own way of identifying the person: maybe they come up with a cute or insulting nickname, or a unique feature stands out that they’re jealous they don’t have, or there’s an identifiable piece of clothing or uniform to call them by their profession (works well for a group of distinct unknowns), or they’re acting in a suspicious fashion and can be labeled with a derogatory adjective.
At which point, narrator can either sleuth out their name themselves or it falls into one of the previous three scenarios.
Point being, once again, you are establishing a relationship between these two characters as soon as they’re on page together. Your exposition is pulling double-duty.
#writing advice#writing resources#writing tips#writing tools#writing a book#writing#writeblr#character development#exposition#naming characters
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OMFG I FORGOT TO SAY ON HERE IM GOING TO BE AT RAMPAGE AND BATTLE OF THE BELTS TONIGHT LIVE GIVE ME SIGN IDEAS
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"the magnus protocol had a whole ARG beforehand? what?"
yes! it did!
"oh so I need to have participated in this whole big thing to actually understand the podcast?"
not at all! from the official post-mortem put out by RQ, "while the ARG was not something that was necessary to participate in to understand the magnus protocol, it was designed to contain a wealth of background story and context that would enrich any player's listening experience."
"a wealth of background context that would enrich my listening experience 👀👀👀 how can I learn about this?"
SO glad you asked. sadly, many of the materials made for the arg have been taken down since the game ended 😔 (ex., the official OIAR, magnus institute, and bonzoland websites. (edit ii: I found partial wayback machine captures! see below) though @strangehauntsuk is still up!), so we're a bit low on primary sources, but in terms of learning about what happened:
for a starting point, I would really recommend this video by @pinkelotjeart
youtube
it's super accessible, it was made in real time as the game progressed and follows the solving and revelation of clues as they happened, it hits all the major points of the mystery and moments of community insanity while eliding some of the nitty gritty puzzle grinding, 10/10 would recommend.
here's the official summary put out by RQ, and I'd recommend reading through this once you've already gotten a basic handle on the flow of the story and the basic connections between major clues and events. it's got some fun behind-the-scenes info and lays out the thought process behind the puzzles in simple terms
here's the full masterdoc of all puzzles and resolutions put together in the statement remains discord server. masterdoc my absolute BELOVED, masterdoc my bethrothed, masterdoc my soul mate. I'd recommend this as a second port of call after the above video as it either contains all details about the puzzles or links to other expanded docs that do.
here's the narrative summary doc that lays out all the plot and lore discovered in three pages of plain prose. if you just want to get to the good bits as fast as you can and get blasted directly in the face by contextless lore bombs, this is the doc for you. if you don't want to start with the video, I'd say this is another good entry point.
once you've got the lay of the land, some of the game materials that I found particularly interesting include:
the in-universe east germany expat usenet forum, with all content translated into english. most of it is irrelevant space filler with occasional extremely sus lore, but I still found it fun to read through. love to soak in some fictional forum drama.
chdb.xlsx, the spreadsheet of the names of all the children the protocol 'verse magnus institute was studying/experimenting on. EDIT: here is a version of the sheet without any annotations and with all of the names in their original order, kudos to @theboombutton for catching that the commonly shared copy had the order swapped around.
klaus.xls, a (very corrupted) spreadsheet with what looks like the classifications of a bunch of old OIAR cases.
EDIT: have a few more saved materials from the game that I forgot to include.
an in-universe audio ad to apply to the OIAR that ran before archives episodes and kicked off the whole game.
an in-universe video ad to apply to the OIAR, this one is an official upload that's still up from the game itself. you can subscribe to the OIAR's official youtube channel today, if you so chose.
the robo-voicemail greeting from the OIAR's phone line.
EDIT II:
here is a wayback machine capture of the OIAR's official website.
here is a wayback machine capture of the bonzoland website.
(pretty sure both of the above captures just archived the home pages, though I haven't tried clicking all of the links. I'd say they're still worth looking at, the home pages give a good window into the vibes.)
once you start poking around in these documents, you'll find a bunch of links to others with further information, the materials I've included here just contain what I feel to be the most relevant details to getting a broad feel for the whole game. once again, huge shout out to the statement remains server, I was barely in there as the ARG was in progress and only ducked my head in every so often to find links like these. true mvps of the fandom.
#gonna pin this for a bit because every day I get 2-5 asks saying 'there was an arg? how do I learn about it?'#tmagp#video#marina marvels at life
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Pt. 1 , Pt. 2(You are here!), Pt. 3
So… you may have head but Razor.
BUT IT WAS IN SELF DEFENSE YOU SWEAR!
He just, POPPED UP outta NOWHERE! How else were you supposed to react?! By not attacking on sight???
So now here we are. With a knocked out Razor on the grassy floor as you and your family of churls and slimes stand over him.
Huh.
You had no fucking clue what you were supposed to do now. Do you… drag him out of the forest? Find a wolf from his pack??
Maybe not the last one cause wolves eat boars…
Anyway.
Dragging him out means that you’d have contact with other characters and you were NOT prepared for that. I mean, at this point you had built such a strong connection with the mobs around you that you kinda forgot about the characters?
You also had to focus on the fact that you were a boar now. Not a human. For survival.
You are now something that poofs into meat after it dies.
So as you stared, you failed to notice a rustling of bushes behind you, but when another human form rose from them…
You ended up kicking Bennett in the head via hind legs.
₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊
﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵
So, apparently churls enjoyed the average human sacrifice every once and a while. Which is fair cause sometimes you gotta let off a little steam, you know?
But not like this.
The two were tied to a rather long stick over a fire as churls of every type danced around while singing.
You simply sat your fine boar ass in the grass looking a little less than pleased at the situation.
As they continued to roast the preteens over an open fire like chestnuts, you finally realized that “Holy shit they are actually cooking them I need to stop that-“.
And stop that you did!
By spitting up the equivalent of a lake onto their fire.
…Cool.
As water logged churls stood by in shock, you began to nibble at the startlingly strong vines wrapped around the duo.
And by gods those were strong vines.
But your jaws were stronger.
And now you have two children at your feet, drenched and still somehow passed out Jesus it’s been a few hours how hard did you hit them?-
And now you had no clue what to do. Right back at the same dilemma that made you hesitate to save them. Wtf do you do with them now???
Your hesitation was apparently apparent as you felt a had rake through your fur. Looking back you noticed a hilichurl petting you softly, gently directing you towards an opening in the forest.
Allowing it to guide you, you found that a couple adventurers from the guild calling out for Bennet.
Fuck.
₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊
﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵
Now they were tied to a tree deeper in the forest. Only difference is that they were now awake.
And thrashing about.
And maybe a bit sacred.
You sat on your haunches in front of them as they thrashed against their bindings. Something you noticed was that they weren’t using their visions.
…Weird.
Anyway as you continued to stare at them and them at you are they pulled against the vines, you noted that Bennett had stopped and was now just staring at you.
He was opening his mouth.
Holy shit was he gonna speak to you?
“Hey there little guy..?”
HOLY SHIT BENNETT SPOKE TO YOU-
“W-would you be a good little boar and get help?.. or something?.. please?”
Your only response was a snort, then you turned to Razor. You wanted to see if he’d have anything to say.
(Not that that was gonna change anything you’d still help them-)
“Uhh… Good boar? Friendly boar? Boar smell weird… boar help Bennet and Razor??”
Yep you loved them.
Giving a small squeal, you finally made up your mind. This was enough human interaction for a while, so you’d find a wolf, bring it back and then let it guide them to the Wolvendom in order to drop them off with Razor’s pack.
While you stood triumphantly with small sparkles surrounding you, the two boys sweat dropped at the sight of a somehow smug boar?
Boars can’t move their faces like that, can they?
Bennett hesitated… can they?
Coughing and shaking his head, Bennett finally noticed you were walking away and the hardcore growling Razor was doing.
“Hey! W-where are ya going little guy?” He called out.
You just turned, snorted, then continued on your way.
“W-wait!”
“Stupid weird smelling boar…”
₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊
﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵
Trotting across hills and avoiding the odd traveler as best you could, you finally found yourself at the Wolvendom. Shaking off your nerves, you head inside.
You slowly made your way through the grass, acutely aware of all the wolves surrounding you. Letting out little huffs you found yourself in a clearing.
A clearing….
Wait….
OH SHIT-
“Hello little one.”
ANDRIUS YOU FORGOT ABOUT ANDRIUS-
“What is a small boar like you doing here where it is not safe?”
His voice had a teasing tone to it, which confused you. This was the literal Wolf of the North, the man who embodied wolves. An actual GOD of the pack. Why wasn’t he hunting you down on sight???
Your confusion was plastered on your face, causing the wolf to chuckle.
“As a creature connected to Teyvat, did you not expect me to realize when The Creator stands before me? My head bows to you, O Mighty One.”
And now a kneeling Andirus was in front of you, as well as seemingly every wolf in the forest.
… So they weren’t going to eat you. Nice to know.
As you tried to communicate with the large blue and white wolf what you needed, only small squeals and oinks made it out. God this was pissing you off. With the churls, they just seemed to know! While it would be nice to talk with someone, you hadn’t needed to for a long while. This was bullshit! Now you’re getting pissed off!-
“Breath my Lord. Have you forgotten?”
Forgotten what? Huh?-
“It seems you have, the boar is not your only form. Any beast that has its soul connected to the heart of Teyvat. Every creature, every animal, they are you children. You have taken the forms of all as you encompass all. Try taking the form of a wolf and speak to me.”
He was acting like a god damn tutorial. Which… was actually fairly needed in this time of… well, need.
So you could do other animals huh? Let’s just see about this. Focusing all your willpower into it, your skin began to shift and turn, fur growing longer… slowly you transformed…
Into a fucked up half boar half wolf abomination.
AND JESUS DID IT HURT-
Loud whines and whimpers mixed with loud squeals and barks left you maw as you hopped around, before forcing yourself back into your now more favored form, a boar.
Yeah never again. You’d rather struggle.
Sighing and placing ‘shapeshifting’ on the back burner for now, you simply walked forward and grabbed some of the larger wolves fur in your mouth in order to drag him. Staring down he let out a small chuckle (He can chuckle???) and began to walk forward, allowing you to trot in front of him.
“Of course my Lord, lead the way.”
Thank the gods he had nothing to say about that mishap. (Maybe he was scared of you smiting him… hehe…)
₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊
﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵
Keeping a brisk pace, your small form had finally found itself in front of the two boys once more. It seemed as though they had tired themselves out from struggling, but we’re still awake. And Bennett’s eyes lit up upon see you. As they should.
“Hey there little guy! Did you get h-h- OH MY BABRBATOS!-“
Andrius, in all his glory, walked behind you as you sat there with a somehow even smugger expression than before. A large abundance of wolves had taken their place behind him, looking like a sea of grays and blacks.
“H-h-h-h-h-“ You’ve broken Bennett, now to check on Razor.
…The poor wolf boy also looked shocked.
You slid your tusks under the vines and pulled, snapping them off and allowing the boys to fall to the grassy floor. And then two hilichurls gave them their visions.
Oh. So that’s why they weren’t using them-
You watched as Razor nudged at Andrius and a few other wolves before turning to you.
He was walking towards you…
His hand outreached towards you…
And he rested it gently on your head.
You nuzzled in to his hand as small happy tears began to run down your cheeks. You basically rammed your head into his palm, sucking up all his attention. He seemed shocked, then happily began to rub both his hands into you, a small smile on his face.
Bennett watched with in astonishment, before grinning and laughing, rubbing your back with his hands. And h o l y s h i t did it feel good.
Hell, even Andrius began to nuzzle you.
At some point the petting stopped - which made you sad you will admit - but as you watched them walk off you felt pretty good about yourself because like, you just helped some characters! Even if you were the reason they were in trouble in the first place…
But that’s not the important part!
The important part is now you had some friends! And they were pretty neat.
But now you had to figure out how the fuck to deal with your newfound ‘shapeshifting’ powers… May God have mercy on all vision holders.
₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊
﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵
Omake~~ A Boar and two Boys walk into a bar~~
“Is this the onE NO IT IS NOT RUN RAZOR-“
Ever since that day, Razor and Bennett have been trying to find that weird boar that both kidnapped then released them.
The reason they had been out that day was because it was Razor’s turn to hunt for his pack. Sure, wolves hunt in groups but Razor ironically enjoyed hunting alone, but Bennett was always welcome.
Razor had seen the boar, saying that it had “smelled weird”, whatever that meant, and began to follow it. Of course, Bennett lost him for a moment but when he found him, he was met with the back hooves of a boar.
And the rest was history.
When they went around trying to tell the tale of the boar that had summoned Andrius, the people of Mondstate thought it was just that.
A tall tale.
The only person who seemed mildly interested was the bard Venti, but that was quickly shut down when he started trying to figure out rhymes and how to make a song out of it.
So they decided to find it on their own.
“Bennett need to stop running up to boars. Razor will smell weird boar.” Razor had grabbed onto Bennetts shirt while saying that.
“But the faster we find it, the faster we can show it off!” Bennett argued.
The two began to bicker in the field they had been searching in, it was near where the forest they had found the boar in, and the field was currently occupied by boars so common sense dictated that it should be out and about, grazing away.
Of course, you don’t follow their stupid mortal logic.
“Do… do you hear that, Razor?”
“Yeah. Sounds like pig in sky.”
“Well pigs can’t fly so-“
“DUCK!-“
Razor forced Bennett’s head down, pushing them both to the ground as four wild winds whipped around them. A large dragon and a hawk flew by as an equally large lion and wolf speed past.
“The four winds…” Bennett whispered.
Razor sniffed the air.
“AND WEIRD SMELLING BOAR!”
₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊
﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵
WHOOOOO WHOOOO IM RIDING A DRAGOOOONNNNNNNNNNN-
Today was a good day for you.
Thank you to all who’ve enjoyed Boar!Creator so far! My inbox is always open for requests and what to do with Boar!Creator! Have a good day/night!<3 ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა˖⁺‧₊˚
(P.S. if you want to be tagged, don’t be scared to ask! I’m still getting used to Tumblr, so please let me know if I do it wrong! The same goes if you want to be removed!~ ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა)
(P.S.S. would anyone be interested in hearing about my Genshin OC’s/My personal Genshin AU ໒꒰ྀི ∩ ⸝⸝ ∩ ꒱ྀིა?)
Tag list: @genshin-impacts-me , @resident-cryptid
I apologize to anyone else who wanted to be tagged, Tumblr is beating my ass rn and not letting me tag anyone else! Sorry again!-
#genshin impact sagau#sagau#sagau x reader#x reader#x gn reader#gn y/n#yandere x reader#yandere x you#Boar!Creator
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Language Of Love
AlHaitham X GN! Reader
“‘Italics’” = he’s speaking another language
“So.. you can speak 20 languages?”
A random conversation.
It was easy to guess how you got to this point, boredom.
Spending time with your.. acquaintance, who you may or may not have a crush on, wasn’t on your agenda today, but here you are - sitting on a chair in his office as he effortlessly scribbles down sophisticated words onto parchment.
The sound was certainly pleasing to the ears, skrch sccrch sckrch.
You had no clue what he was doing. Oh, the duty of a scribe..
Or why you even came here..
No.
You knew why you came here, to spend time with him, as a friend only. Or maybe you were less than friends. It was hard putting a label on things when it came to the emotionally stunted AlHaitham. He was almost as bad as the General Mahamatra.
You just forgot how boring spending time with him can be if he’s busy working, thus leading you to flip through one of the many books on his bookshelf.
Yeah, you quickly got bored of that too.
These weren’t story books, they were informative books. You suppose to a man like him who enjoyed learning, this was like being surrounded by candy. To you? Its like being surrounded by encyclopedias.
He probably reads encyclopedias for fun.
So here you were, starting a conversation on a little fact you heard an academia student mutter like it was a piece of gossip even though it was probably outlined somewhere.
“Yes,” The scratching of quill to paper continues even as he glances up at you for a split second, “It’s important for scholars to broaden their knowledge and fluency of languages as to not hinder important research that may be written in a different dialect.”
All of Teyvat spoke the same language, it was easy to wonder why everyone from ancient times suddenly decided to switch. Of course you wouldn’t ask him such a thing, not right now anyway.
You had a plan.
A plan to woo this man.
The many failed attempts before can not hinder you.
Smugly, you said to him, “I bet I know one language you can’t speak.”
Oh, you were already giddy.
Curiosity peaked, his scribbling halted, eyes on you, “Is that so?” He was eager to hear you answer.
Whether you were toying with him, or genuinely knew a language he could add to his list, he was willing to listen.
“Do tell.”
Clearing your throat, you sat up straight and gave him a cocky smile, “The language of love.”
You were met with silence, as expected.
He was starstruck, surely. In awe. Was he wooed?
You could easily speak up with the punchline after his response, oh!! You would say, ‘but I can teach you!!’
Oh, he’s about to respond! He’s-!
“You must be referring to the ancient Fontaine language used by higher class citizens, commonly known to scholars as the language of love due to how words would ‘roll off the tongue like silk’ when speaking it.“
–an idiot? You were gobsmacked.
And he was smirking on the inside.
“I’m surprised you know of this language, you must have learned something from one of the books you’ve flipped through in the library.”
“That’s not,”
“I can even demonstrate it for you.”
“Wait!”
You began to fluster as he indeed began speaking a language completely foreign to your ears.
He was right, the words did flow silkily. This did not make you feel any better. Your pickup line failed miserably.
“‘You are so adorable, trying to trick me like this.’”
You can’t help but pout, wondering just what he was saying.
“‘Look at you, cheeks flushed and puffed like a fish. Honestly, how am I supposed to work efficiently if you’re here distracting me.’”
“Aw come on,” You began to complain, frowning at the gloating male, “I can’t understand you, y’know.”
“‘I do wonder if you’re aware that I know you like me, you wear your heart on your sleeves, my dear,’” he smiles ever so slightly, which completely unnerves you, “‘I like you too.’”
His cheek rests on his knuckles as he leans back and observes your frustration. Oh, how happy he was you brought this up. Any chance to show off his ability and confess without you knowing is always a good opportunity.
He’d shower you in compliments and confessions in all 20 languages if he had the time, perhaps even spill secrets to your unknowing ears.
Oh, how he would like that. He could say his deepest, darkest desires and you’d only look at him with confusion.. maybe even annoyance.
The thought pleased the busy scholar.
“That’s so mean you know, am I supposed to look up your words in a dictionary or something?”
“Oh, they wouldn’t be in a dictionary.” He reaches forward and tugs at your cheek, elation swirling in his broad chest as you whine and swat at his large arm.
“Should you remind me at a later date,” when he’s finally made you his, of course, “I’ll happily tell you what I said.”
“How about right now.”
“It is not a later date, only the time has changed.” Breathing out a sigh, faking annoyance, he turns his attention back to his paperwork, picking back up his quill.
“Ok, so I can ask you tomorrow.”
“You can, however, I’m under no obligation to tell you until I want to.”
“I dislike you very much, Scribe.” You grumbled, settling back in your seat.
He chuckles to himself, “I’m sure you do, ‘sweetheart.’”
#alhaitham x reader#al haitham x reader#al-haitham x reader#alhaitham#alhaitham x you#x reader#gn! reader#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader
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After All These Years | Finnick Odair x Reader
THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox
Summary: You think he no longer cares, and he thinks you're better off without him. But the reaping for the 75th hunger games puts a dent in both of those thoughts
Content Warnings/Tags: Angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, insinuations of smut, kissing, once again not proofread
Requested by @rottingpeache: absolutely need to see enemies to lovers with finnick. “I really don’t like you.” “And I really don’t believe you.”
Word Count: 1k
A/N: No clue if this is actually enemies to lovers or just a poor attempt at it. I'm gonna go take a nap now but there is more coming cause the requests sparked something in me again so thank you to everyone who sent them!!
None of you had expected it to happen, how could you? But you've learned by now there is no point in fighting it either. So when you heard Mags’ name being called out and you volunteered in her stead, you suppose it was simply out of habit. In a world like this, the only thing that makes you feel like you are surviving is helping others do the same thing. As you stepped forward you could see the cameras zooming in on your face, trying to capture every expression you were making. You saw the cameras do the same for Finnick. Years of being in an unwelcome spotlight had made his poker face almost unbreakable, but the small furrow of his eyebrows and the twitch in his gallant smile told you everything you needed to know.
It wasn't until the next day that he first spoke to you. Over the years you would see each other, of course, you would talk. But at all the events and all the parties you did nothing more than exchange pleasantries. But now he came out of your peripheral vision and cornered you against the wall behind you with his broad arms.
“What were you thinking, this might be the stupidest thing you've ever done.” His demeanour seemed angry, he seemed serious. But you had no reason to match it, you just wanted to get under his skin like he got under yours.
“Be careful what you say, you might actually be the stupidest thing I’ve done.” you wondered if he remembered, if he remembered the night you had spent together so many years ago, it had been the best night of your life, and you had no idea if he even remembered. If he did, he didn't let it show.
“Did you even think it through? You survived the arena once, and only barely, what makes you think you’ll make it out alive again.” His voice was a low rasp, and if you didn't know better, you'd say he sounded upset. But you knew better, Finnick had shown you his true colours when he started avoiding you, and you did remember that.
“I wasn't thinking, how could I? All I could think about was Mags having to go through it all again, you more than anyone else know she deserves better.” you were looking him in the eyes now, and it took all of your willpower not to melt. “My games weren’t that long ago, I did it then and I’m still here, I can do it again.”
He stepped closer to you, eliminating the remaining space between your bodies, his chest against yours, and you could feel his heart skip a beat as he spoke.
“Exactly, I was there, and it damn near broke me too. I was there to piece you back together. But I won’t watch it happen to you again, I can’t let it happen. Because what if I’m not there this time, what if I'm not there to put you back together.” There was a stark contrast between his face and his voice. As you looked at him you saw his eyes soften, and it gave you a glimpse of the Finnick you once knew. But his voice was still filled with anger, and it snapped you back to reality.
“And how would you know what I can and cannot handle.” You were challenging him now, but he had you matched.
“Because I know you. Even if you don’t believe so, I know what youre like, I know how you think. You might believe I forgot, that I ignore you and go on with my life as if nothing happened. But if you were to actually think for one second you would see that I’m simply doing what's best for you, I just want what’s best for you but now you’ve gone and ruined all of it in one day.
You’re at a loss for words, because maybe he was right, maybe you had gone and messed up everything with a single sentence at the reaping. But maybe everything was finally making a turn for the better, because for the first time, he was telling you he cared. And you’re thankful to finally see his thoughts shine through, but you’re overwhelmed too. So you turn around, you turn away from him, wanting to escape the confrontation. Except he’s not letting you go, not this time
“I really don’t care what you think Finnick.” You weren’t sure if you believed your own words, but you needed to get away from him.
“And I really don’t believe you.” You tried shrugging him off again, and you were about to turn away from him when you felt him grab onto your arm and pull you into him. As you looked up you could feel his eyes fixed on yours.
And so you do the only thing you can think of, you do the thing you want most in this moment right here, you kiss him. You tell yourself that consequences be damned, because even if he will hate you for it, even if you’ll regret it later, at least you have this one moment to get yourself through it, at least you didn't let your fears of losing him completely win this time. You kiss him as if everything will be okay, because when you feel his lips start to move in sync with yours, it is.
For a moment you think everything will resolve itself and you and Finnick can live together in a small house near the beach. For a moment you forget how much you hate him for everything he put you through. Because in this moment, if life could be like this moment, you’d forgive him for all of it. And you don't know it yet, but he’s even more scared than you are.
#finnick odair fanfic#finnick odair fluff#finnick odair x reader#finnick odair x you#finnick odair x y/n#finnick odair fanfiction#finnick odair#finnick odair angst#finnick odair imagine#the hunge games#thg#finnick x y/n#finnick x you#finnick x reader#finnick angst#finnick fluff#the hunger games finnick#the hunger games fluff#the hunger games angst#enemies to lovers#finnick fanfic#finnick imagine#hunger games finnick#thg finnick#finnick#angst#fluff
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PANACEA
male reader x sakura && kazuha
17k words
Sakura can't expect you to actually be down for this - the setup, the miscommunication, the endless drama, all that messy work, and for what, your girlfriend-in-eveything-but-name-only's peace of mind?
You lean in. "Declining. Politely. Please."
“C'mon, It’s foolproof. Have I ever steered you wrong?” she says with a click of her tongue. “We can fix her.���
(It isn’t foolproof. She has. And you can’t.)
-
If you’re going to get tangled up in origin stories, this is probably a good place to start: at this gaudy bar, on the gaudier side of Ginza, with the shops you can’t afford to shop at - whose clientele can’t afford to be seen with you. It’s not your first pick, and you can say this because it so very often is, that this one’s all Sakura’s idea.
To be specific, it starts when Sakura grabs you by the wrist - Kazuha pinched by the fabric of her dress - and shuffles you both into a coat closet, which is as empty as the frost-less days of spring might expect. It was probably a mistake, thinking she wasn’t serious, but it’s that uncanny talent of hers, to always find someplace or another to steal away.
And look, you’re not crazy about the bar scene. Not here. You never have been.
When you’re at home, when you’re alone - when it’s you and Sakura - it never takes long to fall into that sensual rhythm of give and take, but here, under the dim light of the closet, it’s no different. You can feel the corners of her wry, delighted smile beginning to quirk as she steals those little shudders at the end of each exhale.
Maybe it’s the abundance of time you’ve had to become familiar with how Sakura can set the stage:
The soft press of her mouth on yours, the speed of her kisses, those little licks, to that less-than-gentle pull at your bottom lip. It’s like she is everywhere, all at once - the warmth of her breath ghosting along the cartilage of your ear, the curve of your throat, her teeth hovering above where your pulse thrums and your skin runs thin.
Nevertheless, something quite new, a touch of novelty. This girl in black - built like a gazelle, all legs - who you think might quietly prefer to be addressed by her full name. Kazuha Nakamura, who would rather not make a fuss over the fact you forgot it the first twenty times or so - but she does have that look about her, that, if she asked you to, you could imagine dropping everything, anything, just to be at her beck and call.
That if she were in your shoes, you could imagine her wanting to do the same.
And then she asks for the most mundane thing.
Kazuha looks at you, not the way she looks at Sakura, but there is a stilled softness, a sweetness, that has her asking for permission - like she isn’t asking to do what she’s about to do - and when Sakura gives her a little tug at her skirt, Kazuha slides onto her knees.
“What did I tell you,” says Sakura, right into the angle at your jaw, pulling tighter on the end of your tie. She wraps it once over her wrist into something she can make a real grip out of. “The girl’s head over heels.”
A touch at your thighs, touches hooked into the seam of your pants and furling elastic - noticeably different from the hand kneading circles into the nape of your neck and carding through your hair. You laugh when you realize Kazuha has your fly undone and her shallow breath is hot against you, anticipating. Part of you is shocked, though another part equally thrilled. She’s actually going to do it.
Which, imagine that.
“And just what is it we’re doing here?” You lift your mouth off Sakura’s several times, chins brushing, colliding, kisses coming together and falling apart again. Your hold on Sakura’s waist firms up, steadying her as you try to reason with her. “What do you figure happens if we bring her home?”
“Oh, I have no clue,” Sakura admits. “We’ll probably fuck her, and then fuck each other again when we she leaves.”
“Hm,” you start, shakily, coping with the tongue that’s begun licking up from the base of your cock. It’s agonizingly slow - fuck, it’s only the seal of Kazuha’s pouty lips cushioning themselves around you. Which feel perfect, but only so perfect to the extent that it makes you want so much more. Sakura’s looking at you like she knows you’ll take it if you have to. Like she knows Kazuha will let you.
“Well.” You’re pushing some of the dark, glossy hair that had fallen in front of Kazuha’s face out of the way, and you start to posture, “I’m not about to start complaining, but-”
Sakura shoots only the slightest smirk in your direction. She’s got that usual unrepentant expression, eyes wide and brilliant, framed by those long eyelashes that happen to land more or less exactly on what you’d describe as your type.
“You have to see how this could backfire.”
She blinks once, twice, a few times, her expression remaining all but even, studying your face. “It’s not going to backfire.”
Your lips part to voice some final concern, but if that isn’t a ship long sailed. Here you’ll be marooned, shipwrecked - something you’ll have to come to terms with later - because you’re left only with siren calls: the soft sounds of Sakura’s lips smacking, of Kazuha’s; left with only a gaspful of air when she finally steals you into the wet heat of her pretty little mouth.
See, these hookups, your dalliances and escapades - the truth is that none of this really comes to you as a surprise anymore. Because if anything, Sakura has always had that tendency, a real proclivity for it. She was mischievous right from the jump, from when you first met her, and she’s only grown bolder. But the thing that you’re having to learn anew, beyond the way Sakura gets her mouth onto yours, how she’ll make a mess of your hair and leave marks on your neck, how her tongue glides effortlessly past your teeth, is with a second set of lips - that blowjob Kazuha is now settling into, mouth inching further and further down your cock - there’s suddenly a little less surefire to your wit, to your raillery.
(Because here, you’d anticipated for impressive, perhaps even overwhelming, but with these two - well, there’s a lot to unpack. There always will be.)
The plan is - or at least it was - to catch an Uber back to Sakura’s apartment. All three of you piling into the backseat, acting casual and pretending like you weren’t just trying to engineer how to share a kiss between three people. How’s that for logistics? Though that was moments before Sakura dropped a doting kiss into Kazuha’s hair and helped ease her down onto the carpet of the coat closet. And when you consider letting out the moan that festers in your chest, the one growing ever more unruly each time Kazuha’s tongue slowly curls around the head of your cock, you hesitate, swallowing down on nothing.
“Fuck,” you say quietly into Sakura’s mouth. You’re not in public, technically speaking, which is not at all the reassurement Sakura insists it is.
Sakura twists her fingers into your hair a little bit, just enough to sting, and asks, “does that feel good? Kazuha’s perfect mouth on your cock?”
“Yeah,” you admit, slightly annoyed - slightly under duress. The pressure of Sakura’s thumb a little harder into the soft muscle of your neck can usually coax out whatever it is she wants to hear. “Of course it feels good, Sakura.”
“I’m glad, it should.” Sakura nods. “And look, she’s just a natural, isn’t she?”
Oh, Kazuha - the poster child for a debate on innate talent and hard work, because as she works more of you into her mouth, you realize she’s both, a total package, an all in one. You’re not easy to take, and she presses her lips down, and draws you deeper like she’s done it a thousand times.
Though it pains you to ever admit Sakura’s right, about anything.
“How about we dial it back,” you say to Sakura, and for the first time, you look down at the mess of midnight hair in front of your waist. It’s glossy, even here in the dim glow of a dusty closet, and it’s just as silky to the touch. As you pilfer more of it through your fingers, you watch the glistening length of your cock vanish between the pouty pucker of Kazuha’s lips - bowed perfectly into this red elegant arch.
“Are you sure? You seem like she’s just about killing you,” Sakura says. It’s the wince here and there. That slight quiver in your lip. All dead giveaways.
“Listen-”
“Shh-shh,” Sakura soothes you gently, and starts to ease your jacket off your shoulders until it lands in a puddle of fabric at your feet. “Why don’t you just let her take care of you, huh?”
Sakura has her hand fit under your jaw again, urging you down to kiss her, but you’ve not quite finished taking in the sight of everything - of Kazuha, kneeling and bobbing her head back and forth - really settling into this hasty tempo. She takes more of your cock each time, and when you can feel her mouth tighten around you, to where her throat narrows and offers you a truly filthy sensation, you watch her eyes open, with lashes fluttering away stray tears and looking straight up at you. Pupils blown, dark as the dead of night, and every bit as sinful. It’s hard to even start to believe, that the girl who was paranoid a few weeks ago that she looked nothing like the fake ID Chaewon had given her is here on her fucking knees, slobbering on your cock.
“What’s the matter?” Sakura asks, pouting ever-so-slightly as she realizes you’re not going to lean into her again, and settles with a hot, open-mouthed kiss into the side of your neck.
“I don’t think it’s unreasonable,” you start, kind of sharply. It’s the way her black mini dress hugs her body - this masterwork of genetics, of countless hours in the gym, a miracle in the flesh. It’s the way one of its flimsy straps is falling down her shoulder and she’s so busy sucking your cock that she can’t be bothered to pull it back up. You don’t look away. You can’t. And jesus, your voice is coming out more broken, more graveled than you expect. “I should - if she’s going to swallow my cum, I think I should get to watch.”
“You hear that?” Sakura asks, and Kazuha chokes on you, just a little. There’s spit at the corner of her mouth when she pulls herself back, runs her tongue over the head of your cock, and tries again. Sakura’s laugh comes out rather amused. Her two favorite people in the world, finally getting what they deserve. “You’re so perfect, Kazuha, you’re going to make him cum.”
Kazuha lets you slip from her lips, and for the first time since she last said anything at all - muttering, please, please, I want to suck his cock - she pulls a stray hair out of her mouth, looks up at you and says: “On my face. I want it on my face.”
“Jesus,” you murmur, gripping Sakura’s waist harder into you. A sort of reflexive response. Because, fuck, if that isn’t well within your wheelhouse. If she’s asking - if you can oblige -
Kazuha lifts her gaze toward Sakura, eyes beaming. “Can I? With your boyfriend’s cock?”
“Kazuha, sweetie, he’s not my boyfriend.” And you can almost hear Kazuha trying not to roll her eyes. It’s just not a technicality she’s ever been interested in - you’re not taken, but you’re definitely not single, and that’s the part that’s only ever mattered to her. Sakura lets her hand fall to the base of your cock, angles it up for Kazuha to instinctively start licking its sensitive underbelly, fingers threading through your balls and fuck, the little kisses she saves for those are going to fucking end you. “You have to ask him.”
Kazuha’s got her brown, bambi eyes fixed back on you when she does. And it’s just a litany of nonsense, as she tries to look you square on, asking you politely to cum on her face. "Please, can I have it? Please, please. Cum on my face. Cum on my pretty face. I want it so bad, please. Please, I need it."
She’s a self-starter at some things, but the profanity, the dirty talk, these simple methods of seduction, you’ll ease her into them. You figure you’ll ease her into a lot.
Because you’re taking note of how her soft lips pucker as you cup her face. Fucking hell, she’s breathtaking.
“I’ll try not to get it in your hair,” you tell her. In a tone that makes it feel like a compromise. Something just shy of completely corrupting, though heavens knows you want to. This want - to get your hands in her hair later, bordering on something near abusive - otherwise, it comes across as this gentle dominance radiant with authority. Something she quickly melts into, eyes twinkling up at you, and you can’t resist digging a little deeper, asking, “that always been a fantasy of yours, sweetheart?”
“She watches porn with Yunjin.” Sakura leans into your ear. “Like, a lot.” Like, it’s borderline concerning, she explains.
The shade of crimson burning across the bridge of Kazuha’s nose is as beautiful as she is, and you’re piecing together some of the puzzle. “I see,” you say, more serious.
For the girl who Sakura described as naive but enthusiastic, you’ve become rather lost, maybe a little too quickly, somewhere deep in the pull of it. Quick, quick, slow. Quick, quicker, painfully slow. The draw of Kazuha’s soft lips back and forth along your cock. Every now and again, you can feel her tease the head of your cock against the back of her throat, just short of dragging you past her palate and holding her nose nearly flush to your groin.
She pumps a fist around your shaft harshly, delivering an indiscriminate pleasure. You can hear her steady her breath, and almost without missing a beat, she lets her spit drool onto your cock and familiarize itself with her fingers, corkscrewing around you faster. Tighter.
“So here’s what I’m thinking,” Sakura starts hot and close, breath fanning over your cheek, and yielding her idea a moment to the sound of Kazuha’s hand sliding up and down your shaft. It’s such a filthy noise, lathering spit and precum between her slender fingers, the obnoxious squelch of it when she grips firmer and starts to pump you in earnest.
“When we get home,” she continues, “I think you should get that dangerous mouth of yours-”
Okay, fuck. Fuck. You’re spitting the word out, groaning as your eyes snap shut - the moment Kazuha gets her lips back around you, hollows her cheeks, she inhales sharply.
“-oh?” Sakura teases, flirting her lips about the edge of your ear. Her breath is hot, close, closer. “Maybe your mouth isn’t the one I need to be worried about.”
In an instant, you’re nuzzled deep into Kazuha’s mouth, seeking damp, seeking heat. With the flat of her tongue, she has you reeling from base to tip, and oh, god, the teeth. Just the slightest, sharp scrape of her teeth as she works her mouth on you faster, sloppier - without caring for so much as a concern about the tears cornering in her long dark lashes, or the makeup smudging beneath her eyes. It’s electrifying, and it has you bucking forward into Kazuha’s little mouth, until you’re swallowed nearly in full.
But behind that, it’s silent. Behind the smacking sound of Sakura’s lips pulling harshly at yours, behind the half-chokes punctuating how hard Kazuha’s lips are trying, it’s just breaths. Sakura’s, relaxed. Kazuha’s, careful and measured. And yours, panting, desperate.
It didn’t matter what image Kazuha had in her head before, beyond the generic appeal of your smile or how you’d rub the back of your neck when you laughed, or the way your forearms looked when you rolled your sleeves up. The silence Sakura creates when she seals her mouth over yours, kisses drowning those slight shuddering whines, it reveals to Kazuha the more present truth: you’re not just perfect. No, you’re perfect for her, and with the right touches here - of which Sakura is eager to demonstrate - ever so wonderfully brittle.
“Mnpph.” Kazuha simply hums, sucks up and down, over and over.
“Come on,” Sakura breathes against you, barely above a whisper, then says it once more as she twines her fingers with yours and makes silky knots of Kazuha’s hair for you to hold onto.
“Fuck her pretty mouth,” she tells you, and you do.
With two greedy handfuls of Kazuha’s hair, with Sakura’s hand sliding down the buttons at the front of your shirt until she’s replacing Kazuha’s at the base of your cock, you rock your hips forward, experimental. Kazuha makes a strained sound, but nothing like the protest you were listening for - and so you do it again.
And again.
It’s unreal how she doesn’t react at all, just splaying her fingers out along your thighs, ready to brace herself as your thrusts into her mouth start to quicken. Given how things started - coupled with the fact that she looks so satisfied and serene - she’s doing outstanding. And if the air dragging through your teeth isn’t enough to make that clear, Sakura’s sure to guarantee you’re all on the same page:
“Just like that,” she tells her. “You look so pretty taking his cock, love. You’re doing so good, keep going, just a little more, and he’s going to cum for you.”
So then, there Kazuha is, bruising her knees and yielding her lips, her mouth, her throat to you - with the girl she idolizes giving her the praise she’s always craved, these sickly-sweet affirmations, a petal-blossom of assurances. They ignite something laid deep within her, something that makes her work that perfect mouth onto you just a little harder, a little deeper, a little more slacked.
She wants you to cum so badly.
You can feel her tongue flatten again, and without hesitation, while you fuck unabashedly between her wet, messy lips, she delves, she massages, she laves.
For god’s sake, she worships.
Sakura is grinning, because she knows. She can feel the familiar way you’ve begun to throb, how the pulse in your neck is racing and blotchy and hot - she recognizes instinctually that all the damage your teeth have now done to your bottom lip could only mean one thing - you’re spiraling. You’re cracking under pressure, and so, so quickly. And then, nonchalant as ever, she just teases, “going to cum?”
You laugh, dryly. You are. You’re forcing the mundane into your thoughts: rainwater sliding down a pane glass window, paint swatches, the sound of your alarm clock, ringing, ringing, sucking - slurping, choking and spitting and gagging and fuck, Kazuha’s making a god damn meal out of you. You’ll let her.
“I’m pretty fucking close,” you finally admit to Sakura, holding Kazuha’s face firm. It’s not a warning. It’s an admission of guilt: you’re fucking ruining her makeup. There’s mascara dark as india ink, as dark as her jet black hair, streaking down her cheeks, and you’re imagining her glassy, tear-filled eyes, the ones that are currently screwed shut, impossibly tight. But she doesn’t wince, she doesn’t whine - and aside from the choking sound her throat makes when your cockhead stains pre-cum onto the back of her throat - she keeps her lips sealed tight, totally demure. Perfectly submissive.
“In her mouth,” Sakura orders dryly.
You still can’t look away from the place where you and Kazuha are joined together, cum and spit and lipstick clinging to your shaft, her mouth, her chin. You’re simply stuck imagining the amusement stretching across Sakura’s face when she tells you again, voice resolute - fuck your load into her mouth.
It’s nothing that might ever take a lot of convincing, but you’re being gracious, being polite, trying to take Kazuha’s side. “We both heard her. She said she wanted-”
“Unh-uh, no,” Sakura tuts, rubbing a knuckle into the base of your spine. “Not here, you can make whatever mess you want when we get home.”
You thrust again, loosening one grip, tightening another. Vaulting toward the edge.
A mess, mess, mess, mess; a proper one, of her, crying and clamoring, shaking and stuttering, you know we will, you know it’s what she wants, Sakura’s explaining. Trying to explain. Fuck, it’s hard to pay attention to anything beyond your cock sheathed deep in Kazuha’s throat, but Sakura’s voice carries that usual gentle quiver, like she isn’t describing the filthiest assortment of ways you’ll get Kazuha off, how you’ll both get off. Going to fucking take her apart - she’s murmuring, kissing into your neck - until she’s sobbing for it.
It’s not difficult to imagine. There are these images taking shape in your mind’s eye, photographically vivid, near pornographic, and god, Kazuha’s body is magnificent: how it curves, how it flexes, how it bends. You’re so close to unloading in her throat when you can practically hear Sakura’s posh, practiced smile flirting her voice into your ear. “If you’re worried she won’t swallow it, I will.”
For once, you don’t manage to say, no, not yet.
“Mnnph.” Kazuha strains, sinking deeper into the floor, hands falling to her knees. Nothing short of full surrender.
And it’s all over in a flash, before you can even register it.
Though in fact, you’ve seen it. You know it. There’s the warmth, the wet, the tightness of the seal that Kazuha makes around your cock, and the way she just fucking stays there, her mouth unmoving as you spill down the back of her throat. You try to catch yourself on the doorframe, and there are a thousand and one things you want to say to her - tell her, ask her, beg her, please, sweetheart, please, fuck, fuck, baby, I can't-
But you don't.
Instead, your teeth are grit and your jaw is tense and your hand is knotted into a fistful of her hair and you can hear yourself barely manage to get out each sinful consonant: “I'm cumming,” and then nothing else.
In the silence, you can see the lumps roll down the column of her throat, of her swallowing, and it doesn’t end. It doesn’t stop. Kazuha’s lips stayed locked around you, and she sucks, she swallows, and sucks and sucks. Like she doesn’t even know you’re reeling.
“Oh…” Sakura says, over a tiny laugh, the kind that’s dripping with mirth. She traces a line with her finger, from your jaw over your chest and down to your hip.
Realistically, the relatively innocent touch shouldn’t make you crazier than her hand gently wringing out your cock, or the way Kazuha’s chest rises and falls with a heavy, satisfied breath, or -
The look she has, staring up at you with her heavy-lidded, sated eyes:
It’s the sort of look that’ll be stitched into your thoughts and haunt your dreams for months.
(It’s the sort of look that leaves an impression, one that cuts deep and engraves:
Adoration. Arousal. Awe.)
Sakura starts to pull her fingers through Kazuha’s hair, smoothing down the parts that were mussed, and she leans down, planting a kiss at her temple. And then another. And another. She whispers something into her ear - a request, a command - something more, until Kazuha finally lets you slip from her mouth.
It’s a disaster.
There’s a translucent thread of spit hanging from her chin, and her tongue runs a semi-circle over her lower lip to collect the last bits of cum clinging to her skin. It should be criminal, how she looks up at you through those long eyelashes, a mess of black makeup and glassy eyes; how her cheeks are rosy, and her lips swollen and parted.
How she can smile through it all and still manage to look like this is what she was made to do. Like she can go a second round, like she could go several - you can practically hear her saying it: let me get your cock back in my mouth. I can do better. I can be better.
But she never gets the opportunity. You crack the veneer of that unearthly silence first.
"Sakura."
"Yeah?"
"I have a question," you say steadily, and Kazuha makes a wounded expression as you pull up the zipper on your pants.
"What's that?" Sakura asks.
“How close is that car?”
“Should we wait outside?” Kazuha starts to say, but it's a garbled mess. She’s still wiping her lips when Sakura reaches into her clutch and pulls out her phone. There's the saliva, the spit, the cum. You can't help but think you've ruined her voice. That it might not sound the same, even a week from now.
“Yeah.” Sakura brings her fingers to Kazuha's chin, tilts it up towards her, and then she kisses her. “We probably should.”
-
This is where it gets kind of complicated, because you know Sakura, know her better than most.
She’d been enrolled in one of your elective courses way back when. Had been the kind of girl that immediately stood out, the kind that left a mark. You were likely the more studious one, by comparison. Grounded. Whereas she had her dreams, a dream of a life, a dream of the world - and the two of you just had this way of keeping each other level-headed. When you think back to it, and for as long as you can remember: it was one, the other, a constant pendulum, always swinging back. You know what keeps her steady, what makes her tick, and she knows you just as well.
Though about this thing you share, the thread between you, it’s not something you pretend to understand.
"Maybe we could define it," you suggested, once.
"No." That was her answer. "I don't know. We're just doing what we do, right? We're just having fun."
"Okay, sure," you said. "I get it. But you know how these things are. They’ve got a tendency to go belly up."
“Oh absolutely,” she remarked, casually, leading you to believe that she both understood the peril and was somehow totally unfussed by it - she probably always had the upper hand. See, she’s gorgeous, but also there’s just that pinch of cute in the mix that makes you believe she’d never hurt you. Makes you believe that she never could.
And that was before it metastasized into where you’re at now:
She’s got a toothbrush on your bathroom counter. There’s a pair of shoes too, at the front door. Shirts in your closet, a jacket of hers that’s managed to claim its own hook. She’ll throw her underwear into your wash while you’re measuring detergent and give you these gentle eyes that make all these silent demands, look the other way, please, just ignore me.
There’s the coffee already in the brewer, light roast, the one she likes. There’s her side of the bed, it’s neatly made. Always. She's neat like that. And it’s all a bit much, if you’re being honest.
Because, yeah, it's not exactly conventional. What the two of you are doing is this total, unmitigated disaster.
So the fact that Sakura wanted to invite Kazuha out -
The fact that Kazuha actually showed up -
The fact that Sakura is now helping her out of her dress in the entryway of her apartment and is kissing her neck and her shoulders and telling her, sweetie, come on, let’s go, let's get you in the shower -
Yeah, this is the part that is sort of fucking complicated.
It's a lot, even for someone like you.
-
So - of fucking course it backfires.
You’re hesitant to say I told you so, but Sakura can read the sentiment right off your face. You don’t need to say anything.
Though that’s a realization that only catches up with you once a week goes by and the progress you’ve made in regards to the whole Kazuha situation is categorically negative.
Because, here it is: her lipgloss on the rim of your water glass.
The lid of her moisturizer sitting on the kitchen counter.
According to Sakura, it’s not supposed to go like this, though a lot of people, if asked, would suggest you should probably not be playing with this girl’s heart in the first place, and then there’s the issue that yours is starting to look more and more precarious, like a house of cards. Forget it, they’d probably suggest - move on, be done with it. You haven’t thought so far, in days, hell, even hours, to decide that it might be good for you. You’re usually rather decisive. But, Kazuha? Yeah. Deciding to not think about her was never going to happen.
In the sense, anyway, when the surprise cold of a winter-in-spring day still has you wearing your sandals where there's a blizzard - memorable in how there are flecks of melting white everywhere, like frozen lace, and a sensation lingering at the tip of your fingers, numb and insensate, which -
Or maybe the same is true of frostbite - or, better, hollowness: how it lingers and persists, that faint sting.
"Kazuha." You sigh, closing a book shut. It falls onto the coffee table and slides to rest, and there’s more: her perfume bottle on the side table, the socks on the couch, her favorite shirt balled into the crease of the cushions, and the sweater that she’s apparently keeping draped over one of the kitchen chairs.
You think you’re starting to understand her perspective, if at least a little.
-
It’s only a handful of days later, when Sakura wakes up to a long, bumbling text from Kazuha. She’s still in bed, holding the edge of your comforter up over her breasts like you haven’t seen her naked a million times before, and she’s twisting her lips, tapping away at her phone screen.
The text is long, you realize as Sakura’s reading it out to you.
Its message is a bit disjointed but legible nonetheless, more or less asking, hey, can i come over?
-
Hand to god, this was never about the fucking. Well, not exactly.
The truth is you really did want to get to know Kazuha - in whatever ways, under any circumstances - in a less...messy setting.
Not just to get her off, or to hear her make sounds she never even knew she was capable of; to have the luxury of seeing how she lets a stray moan echo in the back of her throat when she tries not to get too carried away; how she bites at the raw cushion of her cheek when Sakura works a hand beneath her shorts - like she's always desperate to shut herself up, lest someone call her out on it - because, the whole point to this, it's never really been about the fucking.
But, never you - and certainly never Sakura - were going to be able to keep your hands off her.
It isn’t totally your fault either. It can’t be. Kazuha’s at your front door, and she’s wearing the smallest dress imaginable. The tiny little piece barely qualifies as a sundress, and she knows it. Some sort of pattern recognition - she’s putting two and two together - the type of bodice that clings tightly to the gentlest curve of her chest, the skirt hem that stops right at the tops of her thighs, and you think, fuck, she’s just too damn beautiful for her own good.
Then it’s the other thing: she’s so nervous that her hand is nearly trembling around the strap of the duffel bag slung over her shoulder. It's not your fault she's so pretty. So shy. So easy.
The moment she steps inside, you can see it in her face, that same neediness, the same hunger from yesterday, the day before, from last week - at the bar, when she was kneeling in front of your cock, looking at you like you’d just offered her the world.
(And in so many ways, you did.)
“An overnight bag?” Sakura sounds moderately amused. "Correct me if I’m wrong Kazuha, but I thought you said you just needed to drop by," she continues, not in any grandstanding manner - just factually, straightforward. "How long are you planning on staying?"
You watch her bite her lip, and you’re trying not to react, but there’s a noticeable twitch in your brow. You start by puzzling out the weight of the duffel bag as you help it off her shoulder. “Feels like a couple of nights."
Kazuha nods, sheepishly. “Yeah.”
And she should be ashamed, you think. She knows exactly what she's doing, probably wearing those little lace panties if you had to guess - or maybe nothing at all - the pair of black heels, and her hair is down and wavy, and her lips are full and painted pink, and she smells like the best kind of trouble, and if she isn’t trying to get fucked -
"I'm sure we can figure something out," you tell her.
She smiles at you, and there's that fluttery, flirty kind of a gesture, the kind of coy, coy shyness that could just make anyone's heart swell.
"Want to help me find a spot for this in the bedroom?" you ask.
She nods again, and the blush coloring her cheeks is this soft, subtle shade of crimson.
"Yeah," she breathes, "yes, please."
-
Let the record show, Sakura kisses her first.
You watch her hands thread into the silkiness of Kazuha's hair, the way they firm up and hold her steady, how she draws her body into her own. It's the kind of kiss you see in a movie, the one that should happen in a rainstorm, with an orchestra swelling, the camera panning, a fade-to-black. You're watching the way their lips meet, how she holds Kazuha close, the ease in her shoulders when she feels Sakura smile against her. How it all just seems to click.
It's the sort of thing where you could watch forever.
And, honestly, Sakura is gentle with her - maybe as an overcompensation, a correction for the fact that she’ll get her mouth between her legs later and make her scream - but here she is, tender, warm, touching her delicately like otherwise she might break. The same as she was in the backseat of the car, the first time, the same every time after that. But she doesn't let the opportunity slip through her fingers either. Kazuha's body ends up pressed back into the mattress, and the sound of her breathing is slightly haggard, just like the rise and fall of her chest, as Sakura's pulling up the hem of her dress.
“Hey,” Sakura starts, with a kiss at the corner of Kazuha’s mouth, and then the other. And then a few more, until Kazuha is blushing, smiling, and she asks her, "do you want this off?"
Kazuha sits up and leans into her, and they both laugh softly, because, god, Sakura is fumbling with the zipper on the back of her dress. She tells her to hold still, and gets it down in a second. It's just the slightest sound - a little shuffle, the swish of fabric pooling on the floor, and then Kazuha is in nothing but a set of lingerie, the heels that make her legs look so long you start to ache, and and with only a moment’s hesitation, the two of them are kissing again.
"Kazuha…" she says, "you know, I didn't take you for someone who owned lingerie. This is nice."
And it is.
There's the dainty fabric hugging Kazuha's body, the way her chest looks, the bra, the lace, how her nipples are just barely peeking through the thin material, and how she's just letting her fingers trail along the top of her panties, this tiny triangle of satin and lace.
"What," Kazuha says, "you don't think it's me?"
"It's very cute," Sakura agrees, running her thumb over Kazuha's lower lip, and as you settle in next to her, skirting touches first at her bare knee, tracing up to where her skin is softest on her thighs, she adds, “but you don’t need to dress up for him.”
"I don't mind," you murmur through busy lips - dragging kisses up her leg. "I think it’s hot."
"Then I suppose she should keep the shoes on," Sakura suggests and lifts her own shirt over her head, heaping it somewhere near the laundry bin. Her hands come up to her tits, holding them in place, and as she lets go - lets them bounce back into place - the smile she gives Kazuha’s is so, so soft.
This genuine flash of affection.
You get lost in them both a little. For a minute. Two. The three you all tangled up, bodies folded into one, arms coiled over each other, lips crushed, until finally, there is a need.
Something frantic, burning, clawing. Something insurmountable.
Kissing and kissing.
And kissing - and kissing - and -
Then you’re kneeling at the side of the bed, between Kazuha’s legs, sucking at her hip. Her skin. Pressing your mouth to every place it can reach. Up and down her thighs - running hot over the stitches and marks and stains from where your lips have dragged, peppered, blotched and bruised. Where you will, more.
In the past week, this image has hardly left your mind, sticky and unmoving. Kazuha in your bed, on your sofa, in the bath, over the cool countertop of the kitchen island - wanting to be touched, wanting to be used - chasing every possible high - you had her begging to cum on your fingers, on your mouth, on your cock. In every possible way.
That probably should have been enough.
But after Sakura strips down to nothing, wrestling her feet from her shorts, panties hanging loose from the edge of her ankle, she mounts Kazuha, straddling her waist, bringing her hips right atop hers - rolling them down, further, inching closer and closer -
It isn’t. Oh, it isn’t, it won’t be. It never would be.
“How many times are we going to make you cum,” Sakura wonders aloud, a single finger making a slow circle around the outline of Kazuha's bra. "Huh. Two?" She’s smirking now, you can hear it. "Three? I could probably convince him to go for four."
Sakura kisses hard into her neck, and it’s reflex that sends Kazuha spinning, coiling - closing her legs around you. Or at least she attempts to, but you get your hand slipped between her thighs first, and you’re leaning forward, leaning in, pressing these tantalizing kisses to the side of her knee, drawing your thumb under the arch of her foot. You can just see it, the dark blush she's starting to get between her legs: this lovely, sweet, rose-colored flush. Radiant with heat, with want, with need.
You could have your way with the two of them, you realize, take and take and take; they could put on a show, all for you. And it's not just about the pretty picture they make in bed together, Sakura and Kazuha, who are both the type to belong on covers of magazines, on billboards. Sakura's a deceptive panoply of curves, and Kazuha’s all toned muscle - her built-like-a-trackstar physique looking amazing above you, underneath you, on all fours -
But Sakura, well. There are those things that get her going.
You slide your thumb across her pussy, and you can hear the moment her breath catches, somewhere downstream of all those sweet nothings she’s saving for Kazuha, the kisses into her jaw, her neck, crashing fast against her lips. Those nothings, filthy and sweet, obscene and tender.
“Fuck, Kazuha, I didn’t realize how bad I needed this,” Sakura is saying, telling her. Promising. Her hand is brushing through her hair, making sure she doesn’t flinch away, and god, they’re so close. Sakura’s toned stomach at the dip of Kazuha’s ribcage, laid flat - the way Sakura’s breasts press into Kazuha’s chest has them spilling out ever so slightly at the sides, and Kazuha has her hands all over the ridges of Sakura’s back, dug tight into her shoulders.
“He’s going to fuck us again. Until we can’t take it anymore,” she adds, almost reverent, and you are, you will, your fingers catch the elastic of Kazuha’s panties, drag them to the crease of her thigh and -
It’s fucking perfect, how they’re both so impossibly wet.
Sakura turns back to give you one last look. She tends to be bossy, she likes to feel like she’s in control, and maybe that’s why she can’t get over how Kazuha melts beneath her, but it’s not enough. She’s snapping at you, “I need you to eat me out. Right now.”
You arch an eyebrow, acting surprised. “Right now?”
“Right now,” she repeats, shifting her hips pointedly.
“This very second?” You’re teasing, you’re a little irritating when you want to be, you’re well, you’re a lot of things, but you’re also working at the button of your pants, rubbing a thumb over the fabric of your underwear where it’s stiffening, tightening, all at the sight of these two in front of you.
“I swear to god,” she practically growls at you, the sound catching in her throat.
“So demanding.” You laugh. You have to. And your breath fans right over the folds of her pussy. She hates that. She loves that.
“If you don’t start now-”
But the thought never finishes.
Because you're leaning forward, and your hands are gripping tight, pulling you into her, and -
Fuck, it's not fair, she tastes fucking fantastic. With your mouth at Sakura’s pussy, licking past her heat, she spreads her knees just a little further apart.
Then there’s your hand, ghosting across where Kazuha needs you most, and you let the pad of your index finger roll, circle, drag and drift everywhere else. She shudders, gasping into Sakura’s mouth; you lick up, tongue through the perfect squeeze of Sakura’s lips - perniciously lapping, licking - and she’s returning to Kazuha the very same.
It's indulgent. Not that you hadn’t known it would be.
But Sakura - god, she grinds her hips down, down, down, against you, against Kazuha, and you can just hear the pair of them kissing. It’s messy, hard, hungry. There’s wet sounds, sloppy ones, and tongues, lips, teeth - Kazuha is moaning, Sakura is sighing - fuck, you could settle in here, like this, for days.
Because here’s the first truth: you’re an expert at eating Sakura out. Possibly the best.
You’re not being boastful here, it's just a fact. You know how she tastes, how to get her off - and Kazuha learns this firsthand.
And just like that, the best part about it is, when you flick your tongue flat against Sakura's clit, when she breaks her kiss enough to spit out some curse or another, Kazuha can feel it.
When you push two fingers into Kazuha - deep into her - curl them, massage, crook, tug -
Well, Kazuha can feel that too. Made certain by the way she croons into Sakura, how she holds on tight, grips hard. How Sakura does the same, rolls her hips - there’s so much to digest, just in how Kazuha breathes out your name, and by the way Sakura sighs, by the way she chokes back these whiny, winded moans. You’re afraid to miss any of it. Any single second.
And so it goes like this: your tongue working Sakura over; Kazuha writhing on your fingers; her hips shifting, squirming; Sakura rocking herself back onto your face, onto Kazuha’s cunt, onto the sharp edge of her hips - all while you’re sucking and kissing and licking - until you have one dripping down your chin. The other ruining the sheets.
Until you have Sakura practically unraveled, frayed and falling apart, that thread nearly unwound from its spool, messy and inarticulate.
Until you have Kazuha whimpering, and Sakura’s voice hushed into a whisper, speaking these words you can barely make out:
“You’re doing perfect, Kazuha, baby, keeping your legs open for him, for me, for us-”
It’s just the right amount of praise, of adoration, all of it cracking, splintering, breaking apart - Kazuha laboriously tries to kiss her quiet, breathing her in - and when you use the hand that isn’t mercilessly fucking two, three fingers into Kazuha’s little cunt to grab at that perfectly-sculpted ass, Sakura starts to lose it. She falls apart.
Loudly.
“Oh god,” she sputters, again, and again, and again. Because you grab more. A handful. Your entire fist. Spreading Sakura open so that your tongue can reach further, licking in, in, in. It starts at her thighs, a tremble, this quaking - Kazuha not far behind her: swallowing these desperate, useless sounds, gulping down air like it’s in short supply.
The room is filled, flooded, drowning, with just their voices, the pair of them moaning nearly in tandem. With the sound of your fingers fluttering, blurring, making the wettest mess between Kazuha’s legs.
Until -
Sakura cums first. And she cums hard.
It crashes over her like the kind of thing you read about in a magazine: a flash, a spark, an explosion. It rolls up through her spine, over her ribs. You can hear her try to catch her breath and come up short, Kazuha drinking every ounce of it. How she collapses, folding - Sakura resting her face in the crook of Kazuha’s shoulder; your tongue doesn’t stop.
Sakura doesn't ask it to, she can’t. And you keep on, keep going, making her cum and cum and cum.
There’s something so satisfying about it, so inexplicably filthy - you, with Sakura’s cum all over your mouth, and Kazuha, this hot, wet flustering tangle of limbs. When you finally rise to your feet, you can tell she’s so near her own finish that the tension in her muscles is winding up, running hot over the skin of her neck. She looks so good getting fucked like this.
"Fuck," Kazuha's sighing, panting. "I can't, I need-"
Her hands are everywhere: up in her hair, down her neck, gripping the sheets, fisting at the bedspread. If it wasn’t for how Sakura had crumpled into a heap on top of her, mewling softly into her shoulder, she’d be rubbing fast circles at her own clit.
"You want my cock," you ask her - well it’s not really all that much of question, but the look on her face tells you, yes, yes, fuck, yes.
You say it to her, and Sakura says it too, with a kiss at the side of her jaw. So good, look at you - she’s murmuring, not even coherent - so fucking good.
“Here, Kazuha, just hold on for me,” you tell her, stepping out of your shorts, and, to be honest, you’ve never seen anything so desperate. So ragged and needy. It inspires the worst kind of half-truths, these wicked assurances that slip from your lips as your palm drags the length of your cock. I’ll be good, I’ll go slow, I’ll go easy, I’ll do anything for you - oh, she’s putty in your hands, and she’s not going to fuss over the technicalities; how you’re hooking under her thighs and sliding her forward on the mattress, settling her into that angle that’ll let you absolutely ruin her cunt.
You could tease her - you have, and you would, in a second - but the fucking noise you earn out of her when draw the shape of your cock over her wet lips is like music: a broken moan, the kind you could bottle up, save forever, the kind that has you thinking aloud, “what a good little slut, Kazuha, fuck, aren’t you just perfect. I’m going to fuck your pussy now, okay?”
And you mean it, when you say it, when you push your hips forward, when you watch her take it. There’s the head of your cock, the way her pristine little pussy seems to open - to suck you in.
“I need - you need to fuck me.” She's barely able to say your name, begging - please, need it, hurry - it’s like Kazuha’s ticking off, minutes to midnight, gasping out: "please, please, please."
You slip inside her. Even when you’ve come to expect it, you’re still left next to speechless, because, fuck - how she can stretch.
It’s hot, it’s heaven, it’s hopeless, and as you sink further, bottoming out, there’s all this heat - the wetness - she had to have been just made just for you. Which is wild, you think, considering you’ve done nothing to deserve it, but her gorgeous little cunt is right there, quivering, hugging every inch of you while she throws her arms around Sakura’s neck.
You start to pull back, and then, thrust, once, twice. Just to let her know, to feel how tight she is.
“Shh,” Sakura’s soothing her and kissing her to silence as Kazuha holds on so, so tightly. You watch the pointed ends of Kazuha’s acrylics, faux set of french nails, dig deeper into Sakura’s shoulder blades, the fine edges of bones, the muscles and the tendons - it’s all so visceral, and so quickly - her eyes screw shut, and she’s biting the inside of her cheek so hard you can see the indent. Only letting it go when you snap your hips back into her, deeper, faster -
(There's something almost instinctual about it, in all the most upsetting ways.
So, here’s your new angle: it’s not usually like you, or it shouldn’t be. With you fucking fast into her sopping cunt and making her sob with it, like you need her at the furthest point, you want it the tightest possible, when she has her ankles hooked together around your waist, until she’s crying and cock-addled, all fucked-out and satisfied - with a load of cum buried so deep in her, she’ll be thinking about it for weeks.)
Sakura lets the kiss go with a loud smack. And when she turns those brilliant eyes over her shoulder, she's got that dreamy, lop-sided kind of smile of a girl who'd just been sent to the moon and seen stars.
"Okay, look," she chides, voice uneven, but entirely the usual sound. Her arm reaches back until her fingers splay out across your hip. “You’re going to break her in half, you know, if you fuck her like that-”
"No," Kazuha whispers. Or rather, chokes. "Harder," she’s urging you, wanting you, needing you. "Please. Don't stop."
Your pace has gone reckless, rough, relentless, but this isn’t even all on you. She’s shaking. The building, the crescendo, you’d already taken the time, with two fingers, taken more with three, slowly winding her clockwork tight, tighter, tightest - like she hasn't quite yet realized: you might never stop fucking her.
There aren’t words really, and there haven't been, it's nothing but nonsense. Guttural moans, high whines, your hips fuck into her and you’re choking off an expletive here, another there. But still, she’s an open book, and you’re reading every page. You know each of those transient thoughts in her head, every single word, even if she fails to give a voice to any of them.
Cumming - Kazuha’s trying to mouth out, the silent shape of each syllable falling off her lip - I’m going to fucking cum. And you see -
she is,
so fucked.
It just hits her: suddenly, impossibly fast, rolling her in like a tide.
Sakura is there to hold her down as she washes up. She gives her succor, she tells her not to worry, whispering this gentle hush, hush, shh - pressing a kiss to the side of her cheek as your cock dives deep and makes an audible mess of her pussy. Makes a mess of the blankets, the bedding, and you think, if she’ll be here all weekend, you’ll be in and out of the laundry, load after load.
“I’d be willing to bet you'd take anything he gave you,” Sakura says. She’s laughing, recovered mostly, and somewhere in the doting affection and tenderness is the indistinct bite of a sneer. “Wouldn't you, you little, little fucktoy. Look how good your cunt stretches for him, for his big cock. You’re just so easy, aren’t you? Oh, Kazu, you are just so - so good for us."
Kazuha’s gasping in incoherence. "I can't - oh god, I can't - please, please-"
In the moments before, it's like every toned muscle, every taut nerve in her body had braced against one another. She takes your cock like the perfect little thing she is, and then - the twinge, the twist, the fucking release - it’s too much. She can barely make a noise out of that pretty mouth of hers, wrenched open in delighted agony, but her body is screaming.
Here you could spill into her in a fucking heartbeat, so it feels almost wrong when you pull yourself from her cunt, teetering there instead.
“Kazuha,” you say, slapping your cockhead against her sore clit, and it’s so sensitive that it makes her keen. “Do you think you can take it, if I fuck your cunt a few more times. Is that what you need? This pretty thing full of cum?"
It’s cute, her commitment to the bit - the bashful, the blushing, the biting into the edge of her hand. You can’t help but find the kind of innocence in direct contradiction to the sight of her: legs thrown wide, cunt absolutely fucked raw and dripping, painted in the glow of an orgasm that ripped her voice to shreds.
“Nope. Sorry sweetheart. Too slow.” Sakura’s lifting herself, shifting her hips, and she quickly has a hand reaching back to your cock. Her slender fingers encircling your shaft. Holding it, stroking it.
Like it needs any help.
"Do you have even the slightest idea?" she continues, talking out both sides of her mouth - this time at you. “How fucked you both are? I don’t think she’s going to let you off the hook until she’s got your cum inside her.”
Kazuha whimpers into her hand, merely at the thought.
“It’s a little cruel I imagine, to keep her waiting too long, but trust me: when we’re finished, I’m going to ride your cock - not going to stop until you fucking cum again, and then maybe, Kazuha should too.”
Probably by virtue of proximity and time, you know Sakura could go on like that forever, and it's true: when the moment is right, she's going to take what she wants, going to slide herself onto your cock like it’s hers. Right after you let Kazuha sit on your face - letting her rub herself off, however she likes it - then maybe even have her mouth. Your cock between her lips, watching those pouty things flush hard all over again.
The throuple, the three of you, this plurality you’re still not entirely sure you’re used to - not so sure you should be getting used to - there's time you figure, for Kazuha. There has to be. And Sakura again after.
But in terms of the here and now, you’ve got a set fingerprints burning into Sakura’s impossibly narrow waist, a fist around your cock, brushing Kazuha’s slick right into the wet between her lips - just a matter of alignment - and - and -
“I don’t think you should be drawing this out.” A course correction. Sakura slides lower, hips up higher, proffering, and she’s drawing back at the soft, supple skin across her thigh, letting you take her all in. Her face is flush against Kazuha’s, combing a finger through her hair, telling both of you, “our little girl looks like she can’t wait another second.”
"Hm," you're starting to say. “I suppose you’re right.” The least you could do was add the one-two of another suggestion, but then your cock is lined up perfectly with the tight muscle of her ass, and, well.
It’s like you said, you know Sakura.
There’s a sharp draw of air sucked in through her teeth as you get her started. And fuck, she’s tight, so delectably tight - with each bit, the barest touch of your tip at her rim at first, before your hand finds leverage in the curve of her back, easing her onto your cock like she’s some obscene piece of artwork.
Even then, getting slowly fucked open, she has the capacity for these thinly veiled barbs:
“This, Kazuha, like this - that’s the way you deserve to get fucked. Your perfect little cunt, your ass-”
You should probably be familiar with it, about how she is always, always plotting, always scheming - in control of things that should be well beyond her grasp - this is all on her own.
So as your cock stretches, inches, spreads her out - it isn't at your mercy. Though not quite at hers, either.
“Oh, fuck,” You have to steady a breath, because it feels better on you, you think, it must. Because Sakura has you squeezing past the ring, and oh, you can only imagine how it feels on her, taking it inch by inch. How full Kazuha would feel. God, imagine what you could do with a girl like her, it would ruin her. Ruin her in the best way.
“Sakura,” Kazuha says, faintly.
You can hear Sakura biting down on nothing when she answers, “Kazu, yeah.”
“Is he… are you...”
Her sentence never really finishes. Kazuha’s holding onto Sakura with both hands, one under her jaw, another in her hair. Her eyes are trailing along, studying the serene lines of her face, how they wobble ever-so-slightly when you pull your hips back and sink into Sakura’s ass again. And again. Until you can tell your cock is starting to settle, to hit this particular angle, that perfect sort of spot - that makes her body start to grow soft, shiver, and spill over.
Sakura tries to shake the hair out from in front of her face, and you get to watch Kazuha. Watch as she delicately brushes it back behind her ears, and they lean in. They kiss. And it's nothing like before.
“Words, sweetie,” Sakura tells her, hot against her lips, “say what you want to say.”
Kazuha bites at her lip, and when Sakura draws her into another kiss - an open-mouthed one, a long, lingering one - their tongues push together, meet together, dance together, the words leaving her throat with hardly any sound at all:
“I want, him, I want - to be fucked, I want him - I want…”
Sakura interrupts her, and in the exact same lilting cadence, that same smug tone, she says, “you want him to fuck your ass, Kazuha, right baby?”
Kazuha starts to blush profuse - bright pink up the sides of her neck and in her chest, this roseate smolder seared into her cheeks. Some part of you is disappointed she can’t see the whole picture, because for you, it’s all in frame: you spread a hand across the full round of Sakura's ass, squeezing as you pull out, sliding it along to press your thumb into the base of her spine as you push yourself inside her again.
“Come on, of course you do,” she goads, the obvious edge in her voice looking for a reaction.
And she can have an audible one from you, because Sakura looks like an absolute dream, the outline of her back flexing, muscles moving like machinery under her skin. Her legs strain against the mattress as she starts to fuck back. Taking control of it, of you, of her. You know her game, you’ll play along.
Your gaze flickers, first to Kazuha, back to where your cock is fucking Sakura open. Until it vanishes in between those two faultless curves. Buried to its base. Until the rhythm gets there. Until it takes you. There are certain things that, at this stage, are just inevitable - this momentum, or call it the weight of desire - and suddenly, Sakura’s fingers wind tightly around one of your wrists, guiding you, trying to show you: deeper is good, harder, more, rough, rougher - trying to tell you to wrap her up and fuck her - truly fuck her.
“With this beautiful fucking cock?” Sakura is saying, somehow unrushed and harried at the same time, in her half-there, half-catching-her-breath kind of way. “Oh Kazuha, you just want to be an awful mess - an utter fucked-out mess. Under him and on him and filled; tell me it isn’t that you want your perfect asshole getting fucked raw and hard by his big thick dick-”
As she sinks down onto your length, leaning backwards - which, god, she's probably fucking gaping - you bring an open palm down hard onto the taut, creamy skin of her bare ass, and she yelps.
“Maybe we should just show her.” You pull Sakura's little frame up into you so you can say it right into the shell of her ear, and your thumb smooths a line from the bony edge of her hip, up to her navel, with your fingers splayed out over the concave flatness of her tummy. “It would be so much easier, for all of us.”
She squirms into your shoulder, agitated, but with another snap of your hips into her slick, puckered hole - with a satin-like kiss onto her lips - she bends to you, surrenders to you. She has to.
Kazuha can’t look away. Pushing her fingers into her cunt. She’s watching you fuck Sakura and hold her tight. Watching closely how you’re going to take her apart.
The way it all comes down, the beginning of the end, it starts with a kiss. Another.
A series of them, quick. Crushing your mouth onto hers. Sakura hums this meek sound into your mouth the moment your hands are up on her perfect tits, cupping them, squeezing, kneading, listening to her pitchy little whines when you roll your fingers around her nipples.
Kazuha. Sakura.
Circling fingers, mussed up hair.
Folded knees, rippling skin.
There's no shortage of imagery for either one.
Lewdness, vulgarity, the truly depraved - the dark places the brain goes, the deepest recesses: the buried fantasies. You are fucking her harder and harder and faster and faster and - god, Sakura loves it, she wants it, her tiny body clinging to you - pulling you back every time your cock threatens to drag free from the confines of her tight ass - pulling you back every time your mouth leaves a spot, a smear, an unbearable, unendurable mark into the line of her shoulder.
“Please, you need, it's, god, it's just, you feel so perfect,” is what you’re shaking out of her, broken, breathy.
The screws of the bed are just about wailing with it, her chest is in full motion, the picture perfect arch of her neck is red, pink, raw. And how her skin glows, you have no idea, but her eyelids are fluttering open, closed. Open, closed - all the while using the hand that isn’t pinned behind her back to tease at her swollen little clit.
“Oh,” you say, grinning, “what happened to using my fucking cock for exactly what I'm made for, hmm?”
"Don't - don’t get all funny," she huffs at you, face too stricken with your cock throbbing in her asshole to scowl. Then her body relaxes, and it seems to work. That, and the quick circles she's rubbing over her cunt, the one soaking down onto Kazuha’s legs, into the mattress, the sheets, everything.
You fuck her harder. She rolls her shoulders back.
And somewhere beneath, lost in the fold of the sheets, the pooling sweat, there's something so unguarded - this sick little voice in the back of your thoughts, thinking - mine, mine, mine, mine - and it’s so incredibly territorial.
It doesn’t get any quieter when you look down either; Kazuha’s eyes, heavy and hazy. They have to be. She has two fingers sunk inside her. And they look like they're doing the work for you, because it's like she's been waiting for ages, ever since you sank the length of your cock into Sakura's ass. She hasn't stopped rubbing figure-eights and circles over her cunt. She hasn’t stopped, and you don’t think she ever will.
“Cum, please, I want you to cum,” Sakura is frantic at you, breathless, a little miserable, and you think you could, with your own hand and just from the way Kazuha is moaning and panting and getting herself off. "Just, fuck, get that cock in her, cum, fuck, don't-"
You could lose your mind here, and it's what they’d both want.
(That is, until Kazuha calls out: fuck me, please fuck me.)
Which makes you aware. Reminds you: not even yet - you’re fucking Sakura so hard, so fast, you’re ready to burst -
“Fuck,” you spit, with your cock sliding out of Sakura’s ass and watching her recoil.
Actually, it’s almost too late. You’re almost too slow on the draw. And for a few seconds, all you have are your senses: there’s the wet, failing noise, your skin is fevering hot as liquid fire, and the smell, blossoming saccharine sweet, turgent like gasoline.
Actually, you can’t keep your eyes open, not for a moment. You’re cumming everywhere.
On the inside of Sakura’s thigh, into the bedding, and when you get your cock into your fist and point it at Kazuha’s cunt, you spill a puddle of cum right onto her puffy, reddened lips - pumping, jerking - there’s more on the flawless plane of her stomach, hot white streaks across her body like you’re debasing a masterwork, a canvas beholden to the perfected female form. Now tarnished, and sloppy and slutty -
But, you’re fucked. You’re spent. Kazuha sees the pale in your face. You can read the wordless worry there, but what she does with it is obscene.
Just the tips of two fingers, and she traces a line down from her chest, picks a lazy path through the splatter on her skin to rub it into her pretty, soaked pussy. You watch as she pushes it all in, like it could be - where it’s supposed to be - all filthy, the fucking definition.
There’s a listless groan, and a shake of Sakura’s head. She’s running her hand over her brow, through her messy fringe and flipping it away. “Jesus, Kazuha, gross, if you want it inside - put his cock in there, seriously. Go sit on it, ride him till he can't help himself.”
(Always the smooth-talker, Sakura.)
"Wait, wait," Kazuha says, scuffing her feet against the comforter, knocking her head back as far as her shoulders will let her. "I’m close," you're barely able to catch the words, paper-thin and shivering, "just need..."
Sakura shimmies off of Kazuha and lands on her feet, gait looking kind of silly.
“Oh, Kazuha,” she says, with the kind of dejected little sigh that you’re used to hearing when you say something disappointing or objectionable and Sakura has to set it right.
She shoves you off with a gentle push from her fingertips and moves until the two of them are reshaping themselves into this soft, cozy pile. By the time they finish, she's got her fingers hooked around Kazuha's thighs and her face buried between her legs.
“There, there,” Sakura’s whispering as she laps and circles her tongue around Kazuha’s cunt, the needy tragedy of a shape that it’s in. She makes a long lick up and through the glisten between her legs before pushing her finger in, just a knuckle, curling - then two.
You feel it. You’re half-hard and aching, maybe ready to go. You feel those familiar phantoms of rising pressure, in your thighs, your hips, your chest. The familiarity of how Sakura soothes her into it, inches closer to her, you never knew it looked like this.
“Fuck, Sakura, you-” Kazuha’s eyes are widening and the bones of her neck are straining, her lips parted into a perfect, pleading little bow. The duvet spills through her fingers as she searches blindly for somewhere, anywhere - she needs, and needs, and needs - needs to stay, to find an anchor, to come up for air -
She is gasping. It’s fucked: the friction, the fever-dream.
Because Sakura has her nose on her clit, mouth fucking her fast and senseless, precise, eager to please, and the way her fingers flutter in and out of her cunt looks nothing short of amazing.
It looks even better when her orgasm hits, or when it vanishes, as the case may be, because for her none of it manages to last that long; there's just this crazy moment where Kazuha goes white all over - it starts in her face, spreading across her torso, and her back snaps forward in a cresting wave before she falls. Flat and alluring and inviting.
It makes Sakura almost laugh, right into her skin. “That’s our good girl.”
Kazuha is laying there, fucked-out, sodden in her own slick, destroyed. She has a hand over her face, one between her legs, feeling over her skin and what it's turned into now. Her beautiful, blemishless skin, just…smeared with you. Smothered.
It's impossible. How could anybody function at even half their normal rate when it all just ends up here?
“Okay, alright.” Sakura crawls back on her hands, peering back. Her chin glistens and she kisses the taste off of her lips before sucking a couple fingers into her mouth to clean up. Then she lifts her arm, looking at you with a steely expression, and points to the chair in the corner of the room.
Her smile kicks back up into the corner of her mouth, elastic, and she just says, “A promise is a promise, yeah?”
(Of course. Of course she does.)
-
It’s hours later, when a foot sharply jabbed into your rib wakes you in the middle of the night.
You have the wherewithal to take inventory, to tally it up: Sakura, Kazuha sprawled out across the sheets, the night sky flashing and splintering into iridescent sparks of darkness outside the bay window - rainfall now slowly pelting across its pane.
At the sound of a snore - a novel one, one that must be Kazuha’s - Sakura turns and drapes the sheets up to her waist. She’s half-asleep. The softness in her eyes obscured by the short, drowsy blinks of her lashes.
“What time is it?” she asks, trying to will herself back to sleep.
You tell her: “Don’t matter.”
-
The "full disclosure" here isn't of a whole lot of use. Not really. But it's all there, at least, this surface-level pretense of an explanation.
It’s late August, a summer ago, and you can still picture the unbothered look on Sakura’s face when she brings it up.
“So, like,” Sakura starts to say. She’s inspecting a pair of stilettos, weighing them carefully in one hand. They would look lovely on her and the price tag isn’t anywhere near enough to dissuade her. “What’s your take on Kazuha?”
“Um.” You’re there, beside her, shuffling out the way so a mother and her squalling child can pass. “Is that a name I’m supposed to recognize?”
There are several people in line behind you and not a single one of them are pleased, judging from what you can infer from the grumblings in their pockets and the anger bristling amongst their expressionless faces.
You could ask: please be patient with us, it has been a long few months - I can tell by how Sakura has this irritated look in her eye and hasn't called me by my pet name since we woke up from a midday nap, or how she's barely said anything other than oh and yeah or umm or sure since. That said, there have been bigger, larger-scale concerns, so forgive us, please, we love each other, or something like that.
Instead, you lean against a wall, by a clothing boutique display full of eye-searingly-bright polo shirts, and pull out your phone.
“Seriously?” Sakura asks. “You’ve met her like, twenty times.”
You don’t look up from the screen. "Well, when you give me some kind of clue, I'll see what I can do."
This gets a tight-lipped frown. She leans in on her toes, whispering it into your ear: "The one I said is a little crazy about you."
“Ah.” It clicks. Kazuha, that one. “She was the one with Chaewon the other night right? Dark hair, yea-high? At the gala - helping Minju look for her boyfriend. Did you ever hear about where they found him? By one of the bathrooms on the second floor, with an arm around Eunbi and-”
Sakura creases an eyebrow.
(And what a glare, really. It makes her face look like the backdrop of a brick wall in some mediocre, early-2000s film noir.)
“Another quarter in the gossip jar.”
“Oh, but asking me some loaded question about a girl I hardly know is let-me-guess: perfectly kosher.”
“Loaded?” Sakura huffs, tugging at her sleeve. She pauses, though, her expression almost flounders because she can never truly ever explain why the rules don’t apply to her. “Is that the word?”
“My answer,” you tell her, “is unchanged. She’s sweet and nice and a sort of, conventionally attractive.”
"Really; nothing about her does it for you?"
A loaded question gets a loaded answer, so: “No, not particularly.”
"And what happens if the question becomes less 'what do you think' and more 'I want her to rail me,'" she says, somewhat chilly. “You know, as a hypothetical.”
She wants you to look up at that, and well you are, because you realize it now. “Oh my god. Sakura, you still haven’t told her about us.”
Sakura just makes a face, of a type of: puzzled and concerned quality, and it’s kind of cute actually. She’s perfected the look.
Although, really, she shouldn’t have to explain anything - why you sleep over some times, stay the whole night. Or several. Nothing has to be answered after. It’s you, Sakura, and it always has been. But it’s a problem. Each morning, Kazuha’s eyes get a little sadder, and that kernel of shame inside Sakura grows ever larger.
“Sakura,” you insist.
“I know, I know, I know.” She bites her lip, thinking, and hums under her breath. “Lying about it obviously isn’t helping, but being straight with her sounds…” Sakura’s expression dips. “You know she just has that - that disposition, those never-been-hurt-once kind of eyes. Disappointing her is like choking out the little mermaid with a bike chain.”
“You could set her up.”
“Trust me: Chaewon and I have tried.”
“And it doesn’t take."
Sakura shrugs. “She gets nervous easily, or something. Didn’t get enough attention from boys while in ballet school I suppose - and then here you come along and smile at her like you don’t know what it does to people. Which, careless by the way.”
“Well, it explains the legs.”
Sakura scoffs. “Conventionally attractive, huh, seems like you’ve cast a wide net.”
It earns her this pinched look, your mouth set in a tight line, and Sakura smiles - all smug-like. By this time, she’s narrowed it down, a pair of shoes in each hand, and she holds them out to you, sighing.
"Which ones."
You point at the heels Sakura has in her left: a sleek pair of green pumps with a thin gold buckle across the ankle strap.
"Hmm. Kazuha likes the color green, by the way. A lot."
"That's nice. I'm a fan of neutrals."
Sakura clicks her tongue. “You really don't have anything to say about her."
"Nothing comes to mind." You hold a tote bag out in front of you, waiting for her to plop the shoes in. "Although, she's tall - taller than you - hey, with the heels maybe you could finally kiss her."
“Ha, funny,” she says, and then, pursing her lips, you see the lightbulb go off: Sakura is struck with an idea.
You don’t go out of your way to hate her ideas. She has so many of them. It’s just that they have this tendency to be pretty damn awful.
“Can I, politely decline?” you ask, once Sakura finishes whispering into your ear, and sinks back to the soles of her feet.
Sakura blinks, innocently. (She can be so obnoxious when she wants to be.)
"No, I'm serious," you tell her. Sakura can't expect that you're actually down for this - the setup, the miscommunication, the endless drama, all that messy work, and for what, your girlfriend-in-eveything-but-name-only's peace of mind? "Declining. Politely. Please."
"C'mon, hear me out. It'll be fun."
You tip your head, onto some more dismissive angle or another, but Sakura takes it to be a whole different type of signal: that you're actually warming up to the idea.
(You're not.)
"Fun," you repeat.
“Well,” she says, cracking a grin. And that’s when you know - that her mind is set, immovable - like she’s laid the foundation, poured the concrete and is now standing in it, knee deep, spitefully triumphant. "It sure as shit ain’t going to be boring."
-
It was supposed to be like dominos, falling sequentially, until at last, the final one is knocked down and all three of you can move on with your lives.
This is how things tend to work out: Sakura, a bit of a schemer, and you - well, you a bit of something else.
-
It’s begun raining biblically by the time the three of you’ve gotten dressed, eaten and had something that even remotely resembles a functional, human interaction.
It’s over a cup of tea and a modest stack of papers - Sakura's sitting at the dining room table with her knees tucked into her chest and has taken to typing something on her laptop. It’s a whole thing, she refuses to write by hand like you. And Kazuha feels it’s within reason to start playing twenty questions. Starting simple, mundane: how did the two of you even meet? How have you not told me this story? How did it become, whatever the fuck this is?
Sakura rolls her eyes, thinking, please, how juvenile, and opens her mouth to explain, then pauses, unsure. She thinks it through - the simplest iteration, the most plausible interpretation, or at least something that makes the two of you seem a little less unhinged - but when those gears grind to a halt, Sakura's teeth click together and the words fail to make any headway at all.
You lean forward in the quiet, and end up telling Kazuha the usual story, how it kind of went down, telling her that neither of you "are looking for any sort of commitment."
(That's, by the way, exactly the turn of phrase Sakura once told you when she explained she didn't want a "monogamous, committed relationship," once upon a time, in fact - just a wayward daydream - a hazy, silly memory.)
Kazuha laughs, softly. "Cool." She does a bit of nodding, biting into a slice of toast, the crunch singular and resolute. She seems to understand.
Then she cocks her head, a frown shadowing in on one side of her mouth. "Okay, um, you're not...doing that with anybody else though right?"
"Doing what?" Sakura asks, seeming kind of amused.
"Dating - fooling around, that kinda stuff."
You let go of the ballpoint pen in your hand and take a deep breath.
"Kazu," Sakura says, clamshelling her laptop emphatically. “We are not going to (1) have a threesome with anybody we’re not absolutely candid about and then (2) fucking lie about it after.”
“Cool.” Kazuha bobs her head again. “Cool, cool, cool.”
-
So actually, maybe it’s not a total disaster, you think. It’s all with a bit of luck, and a whole lot of foolishness, but it’s however those sayings tend to go. You can’t take life too seriously, or you’ll never make it out alive.
-
Here's what tips you off: Sakura is deep into a game of Bloons on her phone when you cum on Kazuha's face.
Well - after your load spits a long stripe onto her tongue - and once the heady taste of it makes her recoil on instinct, but then she sinks a little further onto her knees and settles, with her mouth open wide, and her tongue out like she’s being baptized. She simply lets the rest of it happen. And let’s be perfectly clear, she wants it to.
She’s jerking you with her fingers, smearing it all over her. On her cheek, her forehead, across the bridge of her nose, the luscious swell of her pink lips; every gorgeous and perverse spot and stain becomes something Kazuha has earned.
Sakura’s laying totally horizontal on the couch and has yet to lift a single one of her eyes from the screen, humming approvingly, "is she letting you jizz on her face?"
You look up at Sakura's even expression, catching how she's peeking from beneath heavy eyelids, with two thumbs swirling over the face of her phone.
"Guess she is," you reply, turning a smirk into your shoulder, rolling a thumb along Kazuha's temple as a viscous glob of cum dribbles over the edge of her brow and into her lashes. "Fucking filthy little cumslut."
Kazuha lets your cock slip out from her lips. Manages still, a pretty little smile.
It’s not just that she likes it when you degrade her a little, which, honestly, you wouldn’t have ever pegged, but Kazuha likes being made to wear her sin so that it never leaves her alone. Here she is, now realizing that dirty, divine truth: getting called names, used and treated like a cumrag.
Now, she can’t get enough.
The grip you’d woven into Kazuha’s dark silky hair to fuck your cock into her lips is the same you use to rein her in, walking her from the unassuming doorway where she’d gotten herself down on her knees for you and reached her fingers into the waist of your pants - over toward the couch where Sakura’s lounging in the world's smallest pair of shorts and a tank top.
Sakura’s still going on about this level she can’t figure out when you bend Kazuha over the arm of the sofa. “It’s this fucking chimps stage,” she says, blowing her bangs out of the way. “It’s the only intermediate one I haven’t full cleared-”
Kazuha gasps - and the sound comes out near reverent - when you pull her underwear down her thighs and slip your cock into her cunt.
Fuck, she feels incredible. You’ve claimed two greedy handfuls of her ass, watching her head drop between her shoulders as she steadies the air that rattles out of her, and you just keep sliding into her - deeper and deeper until your cock is fucking her apart, spreading her open, so very full.
“Have you tried, not spamming plantations?” you ask Sakura, the syllables slowing, making room for the rough cadence of your breathing, as you drive your hips in. “Since they, you know, don’t actually pop anything.”
“Hey.” Sakura’s lip quivers like it’s about to pout, but never does. “It’s rude to backseat.”
You’re fucking Kazuha slow, but you’re also tilting your hips down, going for the deep, sharp angle that you’ve found she likes - the kind of stroke that get’ll her sobbing if you really lean into it. You don’t miss the soft moans that drift out of her either, or the way her pussy throbs and grasps and swallows every inch of you.
“And see, that’s a common misconception,” Sakura continues to drawl, squinting up at the screen, “this game isn’t actually about popping the bloons. It’s about making as much money as humanly-”
She looks up. Sees, finally.
You press your hips right down to the curve of Kazuha's ass and bottom out inside her. Confirming what you already knew: the way it feels to fuck this needy, insatiable, incomparable body. Sopping wet. So hot, too. So tight, snug around your cock. It's unlike anything, and seeing Kazuha like this, folded over and racked with a shudder - when it all comes down to it, it's just that simple.
It's this fucking little pussy. That fucking curve of her ass, peerless in nearly every conceivable way. It urges you to move, irresistible. To push past that tight, snug grip and pound her relentlessly.
However she wants it.
“You look pretty today, Kazuha,” Sakura tells her as she leans forward, nonchalantly and holding back a smirk, and she starts to inspect the damages: the red that taints her ears, the blush creeping in, the face you're drawing a few curls of her hair aside for Sakura to stare at.
There is, of course, the more obvious - the most obvious - all the cum still painted onto her pretty face. You find beneath your fingertips that it’s sticky all over her cheeks, the kind of sticky that is quickly drying, almost tacky.
"I always look pretty," Kazuha gathers the composure to say back at her, like her arms aren’t trembling with the effort to hold up her lithe frame.
Sakura laughs, the sound coming like a plucked chord.
And it is true, that beneath a few splatters and streaks of your cum, Kazuha looks pretty, is pretty. She's pretty because of what she is, with what she was born with, born without - and if she's sinking her teeth into her lip, covered in cum, biting down on this moan, the next, the one that shivers through her whole body when your hips snap reckless into hers, that is more proof of her flawless disposition. That is something special one could be lucky to witness: her panting and squeaking and pressing her palms into the leather beneath her so you can slam the cock inside her to its very hilt - then fucking her, razing her like a blaze, spreading her apart until she's writhing and clawing at the sofa with every strike of your cock to that sweet, spot within her.
"You just look so particularly, um," Sakura does a bit of tilting her chin, thinking, "fucked."
Kazuha smiles despite herself. Maybe there was this vision of her before - prim, polite - demure, reserved; with the role now filled out, it couldn’t have fit less.
Sakura lets her phone fall between the cushions, and leans forward, dragging her thumb along Kazuha’s jaw - smearing more of you into her skin - dipping it just barely into her mouth so that Kazuha can suck on the tip.
“So,” Sakura starts, tipping Kazuha’s chin up on a fingertip and studying how each motion urges forward a tiny, punched-out breath. “Are you two planning on doing anything else today besides fucking each other senseless?”
It’s a hard sell. Not with your hands on her narrow, wrought little waist, and certainly not when her cunt keeps rippling around you, pulsating, spilling over - dripping like she can't take it any longer. Kazuha's a bit out of sorts, has been for more than a few moments, but this one, especially. With the stilted way she's saying, "could, we go again, if, ah," then sucking a hard breath, "if, we," and "if you think," and "please, please, please."
“Just to be clear,” Sakura runs her tongue between her lips before her gaze tracks up to meet yours. “This is on you; she wasn’t like this.”
“What, you mean cumdrunk?”
Sakura runs her hand through Kazuha’s hair “Something like that.”
All the while, she is sliding one of her hands under the cotton of Kazuha's shirt, bringing another one up the sensitive expanse of her leg, thumb stroking just inches from where your cock is gliding in out of Kazuha’s aching cunt. You almost find it a shame that Sakura's never in any rush to actually fuck Kazuha, taking her apart piece by piece first, not allowing for an ounce of hurry.
Not to mention the effect she has on her - something intense, something almost electric - and there are sparks, when she leans in and silences Kazuha’s moan with a soft kiss, somewhere between their lips, as Kazuha melts -
And dissolves -
And opens her mouth -
Your hand finds the jut of Kazuha's hips, squeezing gently, using her body to pull her into you. Pumping, thrusting. Then back and in, again, and again. Kazuha goes a little boneless; this soft, quivering mess. There's one final teary squeak - and she just, takes it.
"God," you whisper out, in an almost perplexed admiration; her cunt looks so good like that. Taken. Fucked. In use.
It’s like some wild and wonderful thing - the absolute fucking wreck she is now - her bottom lip sticking out, Kazuha sighing, "m-more."
Sakura peers over her, eyes sharp, head held high. “Better not keep her waiting.”
As it were. It all goes on and on and on.
-
So,
Here’s what people usually fail to consider about “fucking each other senseless” when they’re discussing definitive day plans:
In general, it goes off the rails - like when your hand closes around the column of Kazuha's throat and the bathroom is abruptly fogged in sex-infused haze as you're fucking your cock between her legs. The tip nudging just past the smooth of her folds, slipping along the ridges and curves of her thighs, or when it all builds up to something else and the head of your cock is a sloppy mess against the little dip of her asshole and you fuck her there, too.
Sometimes, it gets very silly. When Sakura pouts at you and pulls your fingers from Kazuha's cunt to have her lick at them and there's an instant jolt that hits at the look in her eye - dilated and black, smirking, hungry.
Then, maybe Sakura slips a hand down Kazuha's pants, gives her a little, "good girl, huh? Little fuckin' cumslut. And you can do it with your mouth full, too, hmm?"
She’ll do this thing so practiced, you’d think she’d done it a thousand times. She’ll slow the roll of her hips down on your cock, for a rare respiteful second, and press a sharp bite to the shell of Kazuha's ear. You get that gleam off her canines when Kazuha lets the words drop, mumbling with Sakura's fingers on her jaw and yours buried three knuckles-deep inside her mouth. "Yes ma’am, yes I can."
And there's when things get very serious. Maybe, in particular, a time, a moment -
(Let's call this moment one of many, but just to use it as something of an example.)
-a phone, going off and ringing, ringing, ringing.
You haven't seen the numbers - you're kind of too busy with your cock in Kazuha's cunt and her riding the edge, circling her hips on the line of your thigh, rolling into it and soaking your skin. Until she freezes, going rigid.
(Yeah,
No shit, she's the one getting Yunjin on the other line. A few days out of town, she has this text - call ASAP. ASAP means: she is now in this awkward spot, of pulling her own soaked underwear off of your wrist, trying to compose herself, not moan or writhe. You're trying to act natural, as Kazuha hastily arranges you both - nudging you onto the bed, letting Sakura wrench your shirt off from behind.)
By the time Kazuha's listening to Yunjin retell some story - no, yeah, she went out and got a new car. Then this funny thing, so she came across the scrapyard, and this other thing - did you know it costs a dollar fifty? She's got a shovel in the back, still can't believe it! - your hand is closed around your cock, trying to, gently, in vain, get some sort of handle on it.
But everything else happens way too fast: Sakura's foot falls across the meat of your inner thigh, and her expression is all, please. Don't you want to put me in my place? Please, for her - it'd mean so much to, just to, ride that massive, fat fucking cock-
Fuck, she's a bad influence, your best friend. Your lover, in all senses.
Anyways - your tongue in her mouth -
Your arm around her waist -
Kazuha gets it figured out. Yunjin's good to talk for a couple of minutes, and while your head is thrown back on a pillow, hearing Kazuha work out all this small talk about her shiny new volkswagen, your brain is somewhere between exploding, overstimulation, overload - Sakura's mouth, her tits, her pussy - whatever, wherever - just, fuck, she's -
You're just…fucking her. Truly fucking her. She's grinding, rolling her clit, making these choked noises. She’s not as flexible as Kazuha, who’d let you turn her into a pretzel or force her into the splits and pound away until there’s a load leaking from her pussy - until there’s several - but there’s something else about Sakura’s tight, grasping cunt, how you it quivers and milks you, a soft, soft silk that wants to tug at you, consume you -
Kazuha’s on the phone, wrapping up, telling Yunjin, “okay, I love you, bye, I love you, yes, okay, I love you, bye, I’ll talk to you later, soon, I love you. Yes, I’ll get to it. First thing tomorrow.”
Sakura’s on a sort of different thread, leaning into you and telling you to put a hot load into her cunt, your pretty girl, please - her mouth toying with the soft lobe of your ear, working in the angle of her hips on top of you and dragging her cunt against all the right parts of your cock in tandem, then asking: "is this little pussy gonna get filled up like hers? Make a mess and ruin me?"
And, there’s you -
Going fast, faster - you want more of her, she wants more of you - her tiny frame shaking with need, your hips slamming into hers and pushing her up the mattress and making a fucking mess of her perfect cunt. Your fingers are clasped over her mouth. Hers are probably clasped around your very soul, because you think:
This girl.
This girl -
Fuck, it isn’t complicated at all.
-
(As it is most years, the full bloom lasts about a week. There’s a cherry tree outside the window, one, three floors down from your apartment; its flowers are in their final days. A warm breeze whispers a cascade of petals to the earth below, and from this distance, they look almost dream-like, like snow falling soft.
You lie to yourself: maybe, if it could stay just like that, maybe forever.)
-
For weeks, Kazuha comes and goes. More of her belongings enter than ever leave the apartment - shoes, laundry, hair ties, the occasional purse or two. Her books take up the most space, overflowing to the point where the stack is spilling off the kitchen table.
It all serves to solidify the unspoken agreement among the three of you, that this isn’t going away any time soon.
At present, she’s currently in a moment of going.
You and Sakura watch from the fire escape as her figure on the street below climbs into a cab and heads off in a vaguely-western direction.
With your backside to the railing and your elbows looped over the iron bars, the cigarette smoldering between your fingertips curls up a single smoky tendril. Beside you, Sakura has her sunglasses shielding her eyes from an early-evening summer sun. Her lips, just the subtlest pink shade of coral - pink, rose - start to pick up the colors of fleeting daylight. You watch her focus flit between you and the horizon, unreadable, inscrutable and turn back on the asphalt.
There's this wind that fills out her skirt and reveals a sliver of her thighs, a space in time where her legs aren’t painted red and her hair looks a bit lighter.
Sakura points the fronts of her sneakers down as though to really study the pavement below. "What's with that face?"
"No face," you say.
"Yes face," Sakura insists, tipping her head.
A strand of her bangs swings along the line of her cheekbone to where she tucks it, delicate, behind her ear. And then:
"Y'know."
You tap off a line of ash. "Do I?"
She rolls her eyes and replies, simply, "us."
-
Some mornings, there's coffee.
Some evenings, another show gets binged, or a movie.
Some nights are always reserved for bed, a three-person scrum at the very center and warm bodies laced over one another.
This one - tonight - is always the hardest to predict.
There was no denying the thud. There were no stifling the sounds - the cries and pleas, the streams of no, please don't stop, which you think must’ve been coming from Kazuha. There were other voices too, fainter - they slipped right out your head, unabashed.
Another came from behind, Sakura moaning out a hoarse "there you go baby, just like that. Take that little cunt of hers." And on, on and on: Kazuha whimpering and mewling out an obscene pitch - fucked over and out, full and satisfied.
With that, you can't even tell which is better. Looking down, the lovely sight of your cock filling Kazuha's pussy - spreading her wide open for you - so indecent, and hot, and, really, there's that fantasy that she has that can play out on repeat. Laid out on a mattress and used, exactly as she's always wanted to be. Fucked, again, again, again - full of cum.
Only somewhere along the way it all slows down. To the basics, the essentials.
See, there’s a place by the tidal river that you and Sakura like to go, sometimes, just to take a break. It’s a clearing in the trees that by mid-summer will be swarming with bugs, but is for now, mostly okay. And if you’re going to get tangled up in origin stories, this is probably the best place to start:
"What about that one?" Kazuha asks, pointing up at another ambiguous point on the vast dark canvas overhead. Her head is in your lap, and she's tearing up the grass with her other hand.
Sakura squints. "Hmm. Let's see. That one over there is Gemini, I think." She moves her finger, dragging Kazuha's gaze across the heavens. "That star cluster right there. I call it The Bee. But if you want the real name, you can call it Messier 35. The French got to that one first, I guess."
Kazuha seems to ignore her, the brief aside, to stare, to dream.
“Sakura, hey,” she says in a half-whisper, its sound trailing into the dull drone of cicadas, the croaking cadence of bullfrogs, like a will o’ wisp into the night sky. “Where’d you learn all this stuff?”
“She didn’t,” you tell her. “She makes it up as she goes along.”
Kazuha twists around to level her with this pout, half-crooked, almost grinning. Sakura just shrugs, blameless. There’s grass falling off her sweatshirt and speckling her knees. Her ponytail is crooked, her smile bright and beaming and contagious - you find it a wonder how you ever manage anyway.
“What about that one, you think?” she asks Kazuha, gesturing vaguely to a cluster of three bright flecks, glistening against the gradient, and Kazuha’s head tilts to follow Sakura’s index finger.
(And it’s totally worth pointing out the sort of cosmic irony here being that if any of you knew a lick about anything, you could say oh that? That’s Orion’s belt, binding together the great hunter himself - to his quiver, and to the bowstring, his pride, and to his most prized possession: his arrow, gleaming, eternally shining in the midnight glow of faraway planets and twinkling, blinking stars.
None of you are astronomers after all. Not you. Sakura, maybe, if you ask Kazuha. But for the time being, you'd never know.)
“Dunno,” Kazuha says, "but it must mean something."
You and Sakura share a long breath.
The three of you staring up into the infinite blue.
#sakura smut#kazuha smut#le sserafim smut#izone smut#kpop smut#male reader smut#izone sakura smut#le sserafim kazuha smut#le sserafim sakura smut
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BIRTHDAY SEX
pairing: dom!chris x sub!reader
summary: chris, being the forgetful boyfriend he is, forgot to get you birthday gift. you try to hold your emotions in but chris can tell your pissed off. he tells you he has an idea on how he can make it up to you..
!all chris p.o.v.!
!warnings!: SMUT, pet names (ma, princess, sweetheart, who’re, mama, slut), oral; fem!receiving, no p in v, fingering, daddy kink?, aftercare (fluff i guess?).
author’s note: first post on here, probably the last to since i have no clue how to fully use tumblr 😭.
word count: nearly 1,200.
“HEY BIRTHDAY girl!” nick says as he walks into the room, holding a bag full of who knows what. my eyebrow raises as i replay what my brother said.
fuck.
i run my hands over my face as i notice her, my girlfriend, walk out in the sluttiest little black dressed that hugged her curves in ways i didn’t know were possible.
a huge smiles plastered on her face, grabbing the bag right out of my brothers hand, “thank you nickkk,” she tells him.
i can’t believe i forgot my own girlfriends birthday.
she walks over to me and sits down on the couch, her legs crossing over mine. “hi baby,” she whispers to me as i turn my head to look at her.
her hairs straightened and is laying over shoulders, her mascara clumped on. all i can think about is how it would look running down her face while i fuck her brains out.
“hey mama,” i tell her. she looks at me like she’s waiting for something— a birthday present of course. i look at her in guilt as i bite my lip.
“what’s wrong?” she asks me as her hands rub over my thighs, looking up at my through her lashes. my breathe hitches as i feel her hands rub circles against me.
“i uhm—“ i say, clearing my throat, “forget your birthday present.” i watch as her eyes shut close for a second as a sigh escapes her lips. i fucked up.
“i’m sorry sweetheart, i really am!” i whisper yell, not wanting my brothers to hear. she shakes her head as she laughs dryly.
“it’s fine chris. i thought you would anyway,” she says as she stands up and places the bag nick gave her on the table.
i watch from the couch as she walks up the stairs. her dress slowly going up. i know shes pissed off, so i sit here and wait for her to cool off.
a few minutes later matt walks in, looking at the empty spot next to me and raising an eyebrow. “where’s your girl?” he asks as i shrug, “upstairs somewhere.”
i watch as his eyes roll and he shakes his head. “are you not gonna go after her?” he says as my tongue pokes the inside of my cheek, “guess i will.”
standing up, i place my phone down on the coffee table in front of me and quickly walk up the stairs, knocking on her door.
no response.
taking matter into my own hands, i open the door to find her standing there in only her slutty little pajama shorts and a sports bra.
she quickly turns to look at me, her eyes meeting mine. i waste no time shutting and locking the door, biting my lip as i walk up to her.
“hey there princess,” i whisper as my hands land on her waist, placing soft kisses along her jawline. i hear her heart beat fasten as she doesn’t reply.
“you were just having some attitude downstairs and now you can’t reply, what’s with that?” i mumble as my lips trail slowly down her neck, placing wet and sloppy kisses along her throat.
“fuck chris—“ she whimpers out as her hands land in my hair, tugging on it slightly. the only thing that does for me is turn me on more than i already am, placing a harder bite onto her neck.
“lay.” i tell her, she backs up and falls back on the bed. “look at you, listening to me like a little slut,” i chuckle dryly as i kiss down to her exposed cleavage.
without asking, i rip the sports bra off and throw it to god knows where, attacking her breast with sloppy kisses. “shit..” her breathe hitches as i place a nipple in my mouth, twirling my tongue around it.
“oh fuck,” she moans a little louder than before, my fingers going to her lips. “can’t be so loud baby, don’t want them to hear do you?” her head quickly shakes as i shove my fingers into her mouth. “suck,” i tell her.
i feel her slowly starts to suck on my fingers as i slowly start placing wet and sloppy kissing all down to under her belly button. she whimpers every kiss i place, turning me on more and more.
my fingers slide out her mouth, a pop noise coming from her mouth. her hips buck as i slide her shorts off.
my eyes widen as her bare pussy is on display in front of my face, “such a slut, not wearing any underwear. you knew i was coming up were— didn’t you?” i ask as she nods.
“words please.” that causes a moan to escape past her lips, “yes- i knew you were gonna come up here.” shit that turned me on more than it should.
i place her legs over my shoulders as i run the fingers that were covered in her saliva over her folds, whimpers escaping out her mouth. “fuck, don’t stop,” she moans as her back arches.
i plunge my middle finger inside of her, curving them as i move my tongue to lick her folds. her hips slowly buck forward, trying to get more of my finger into her.
pushing her hips down, i remove my finger, “who said you can be in control?” i reply in a growl as both my ring and middle finger enter her.
i move them in and out at a medium place as i place my face between her thighs, sucking thighs slowly, teasing her the most i can.
“jesus fuck chris, don’t be a tease!” she says as i remove my fingers, wanting nothing more than to taste her on my tongue instead.
my mouth lands on her clit, sucking on it slowly as i place my hands on her hips to hold them hold. my tongue plunges inside of her as my nose rubs against her. i go up and down as i use my nose to pleasure her folds.
“when did you learn to- FUCK- do this!” she moans out and places her hands in my hand grinding her pussy against my face the slightest bit.
“been thinking about doing this to you, wanting to use you like the slut you are,” i mumble back from her clit, sucking in all the juices i can.
i flick my tongue up and down at the fastest pace i can, my hands now drawing shapes on her thighs as i hear her whimpering, a pillow now shoved on her face.
“look at you, such a little whore you can even keep it down,” i say as i hear her moan, “fuck chris— please don’t stop!”
“why shouldn’t i?” i ask as i slowly pull away, her hands pushing my head back down. “i’m so close, so close chris!” she says which makes me smirk, putting my face right back into her pussy.
slowly, i start spelling my name out. when she notices what i’m doing, she moans a little louder than before. guess i know what turns her.
h. her hands grip against her bed comforter under her, grinding her face against mine the best she could.
r. “d-daddy!” i hear her moan, the only thing that does is fasten my past. hearing her call me daddy made me do more then just spell my name.
i. my nails dig into her thighs as i spell it more aggressively. “you have no clue what saying that’s done ma,” i mumble from her clit.
s. i feel the pre cum coming out of my tip. shit the way her back arches, the scratches i left on her thighs, her slutty little waist shaking, it’s all making me act like a fucking animal. i pull away as i start to place nearly five sloppy kisses against her clit, thighs and anywhere else my body lets me move to.
t. i move my head right back down to her pussy, spelling t as aggressive as i can, “fuck chris, gonna cum!” she moans out as i rub her hips, running my hands up and grasp her tits, “cum on my tongue like the slut you are.”
o— fuck. her hot liquid squirts onto my face and mouth. i feel her whimper out of pleasure as her back arches once last time. licking the liquid off my face with my tongue, i crawl up to her and pull her into one last sloppy, wet, make out.
“you like that, don’t you? feeling yourself all on my tongue. fuck your so hot baby,” i mutter against her lips as i pull away. she’s looking at me through her eyelashes again which makes me place a few more sloppy kisses against her chest, marking spots only i could see.
the air smells like sex, sweat dripping from her body as she grabs her shorts. “no way, i’ll go get towels and clean you up baby.”
throwing my sweatpants on and running out the room, i grab her a towel and walk back to her room. “here, sit up baby,” i whisper as i rub her body, her biting her lip as she watches me.
i reach over to her clean laundry bin and grab her a pair of plaid pajama pants and a tank top, throwing them on for her. “you feel better sweetheart?” i ask as she nods.
throwing my black t-shirt on, i ruffle my hair up and grab a new blanket. she lays down on my chest as soon as i sit in the bed and i run my fingers through her hair.
“i’m sorry for forgetting your birthday present mama,” i tell her as she nods. “i think i would take that over a birthday present any day.”
i smirk as i place a kiss against her hairline and temple, wrapping the blanket around her. “oh yeah?” i tease as i feel her cuddle as close to me as she can.
“oh yeah, for sure.”
like said , don’t expect me to post again cause this shit is ass 😭😭.
#chris sturniolo#chrissturniolo smut#chris sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo smut#nick sturniolo#nathan doe#tumblr fyp#smut#Spotify
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Our Cottage
Benedict Bridgerton x Reader
Summary: A first anniversary is nearly as important and memorable as the wedding day—if only she had remembered it. Or, at the very least, hoped her husband also forgot. Knowing her husband? Unlikely.
Word Count: 3.7k
Warnings: fluffy fluff!! cheesy as cheese gets I'm afraid, mentions and illusions of sex but no smut (sorry babes maybe next time)
A/N: Another self indulgent fic for me myself and I. You're welcome to read it if you want I guess—I have nothing else to say about it
__
The room was too fragrant.
Maybe it was her sensitive sense of smell that had awoken her, but something about the near ten bouquets that adorned her bedchambers led her to believe that both could be true.
“What in the world?”
“Good morning, ma’am,” Mrs. Crabtree said, knocking unceremoniously on the door. “I do hate to intrude on your beauty sleep, but I was instructed to beat the drapes and I’m afraid this is the last room I have left to do.”
“No, no,” (Y/N) groaned, sitting up in bed, “I bet it’s time for me to rise anyway. Can’t sleep the day away.”
“You’re much more forgiving than Mr. Bridgerton,” Mrs. Crabtree smiled, entering further into the bedchambers. “As much as I miss the young master’s presence here at the estate, if he found out that I awoke you early,” she laughed quietly, “I reckon the mister and I would be packing our bags before nightfall.”
“Oh please,” (Y/N) peeled the covers off of her body, stretching her legs, “Benedict loves you both dearly—”
“But he loves you more,” the woman points, making good work of taking the drapes off the wall. “Why, do you think Mr. Bridgerton would purchase the same amount of flowers for me?”
She looks closer at the bouquets—all full of a different variety of blooms. Most filled with her favorites, but a handful were a collection of his favorites as well. “Why did Benedict purchase all of these flowers, anyway? It seems excessive…”
Mrs. Crabtree’s smile seemed secretive at first, fading in realization after looking Mrs. Bridgerton in the eyes. “Oh, my dear, you’re serious.”
“Benedict is usually known for romantic gestures,” (Y/N) said indifferently, “I do not recall a time he did something quite like this, though.”
“Well, I can recall a time Mr. Crabtree and I had to clean up a shocking amount of paint and a few precarious handprints across his study…”
She wished she was still in bed, wanting nothing more than to pull the covers over her bright red face. It was one of the many nights of their honeymoon—Benedict had the bright idea to try and paint with their bodies instead of brushes. She thought he had the decency to clean it all up in the morning. She thought, anyhow.
“I-I’m sorry you had to clean up such a mess,” (Y/N) said, praying the apology could transcend lifetimes. “I will be sure to let Benedict know he needs to be more careful with his oils.”
“Oh, your love keeps me young, ma’am,” Mrs. Crabtree said. “But as I was saying—do you really not realize why your husband had purchased so many flowers?”
“Not a clue.”
“Perhaps it isn’t my place,” Mrs. Crabtree said slowly. “But you and the master have been married for a year now.”
“Yes, yes,” (Y/N) waved. “Nearly year of marital bliss—”
“A year ago, today.”
“Today is… surely not…”
Noticing a perfectly placed card in the bouquet on her nightstand, she grabbed it and quickly sped over the looping font.
~
Dearest,
I hope these blooms find you well, I instructed the Crabtrees to be extra careful in their delivery this morn. As exquisite as the flowers may be, and I insisted on their exquisiteness, they could never hold a candle to you. Light of my life and song of my heart, how pleasantly perfect the last year has been.
Happy anniversary, my love.
Yours forever,
B
~
Their anniversary. Their first anniversary, and she had completely forgotten about it.
“Mr. Bridgerton is still visiting Kent until this evening,” Mrs. Crabtree explained, as if the young missus didn’t know. “I’m sure that provides ample time to prepare something for his arrival, at the very least twelve hours give or take.”
“How could I have forgotten?” (Y/N) was beside herself, forgetting her anniversary? Her first anniversary? Surely it wasn’t an omen of some kind. She was holding onto his note rather tightly. “What kind of a wife am I?”
“Not a terrible one,” Mrs. Crabtree said. “Why, I recall forgetting quite a few of my anniversaries as well.”
“Not your first one though, correct?”
“Well, no—”
“We need to go to town,” (Y/N) said determinedly, flinging her closet open, eyes scanning over every sensible dress she owned. “I need to figure out a way to top whatever spectacle my husband has planned for this evening.”
“I’ll call for a carriage,” Mrs. Crabtree sighed, knowing full well that the drapes will not get finished this afternoon.
_
“If we were in London, why, I’d have hundreds of choices on what to get Benedict,” (Y/N) said, skimming through the few booths at the market. Life out in the country was agreeable, favorable even, but it was moments like these that she truly missed the convenience of living in such a populated place. “I just do not see how I am to make a gift with anything here.”
“Perhaps, ma’am,” Mrs. Crabtree said, carrying a basket full of fresh fruit and veg—taking every opportunity of the market while they’re out, “perhaps you should try gifting something from the heart?”
“What to wives usually get their husbands for the first anniversary?” (Y/N) asked absentmindedly, fingers running over a healthy pile of apples.
“I find that most women in your place have the pleasure of gifting news of an heir right around or before the year mark,” Mrs. Crabtree said, a hint of a smile dancing on her lips. “I don’t suppose you can surprise Mr. Bridgerton with such news?”
Her face went red. “No. Decidedly not.”
“Shame,” Mrs. Crabtree clicked, “I was rather hoping to be doting on a babe sometime soon…”
“What did you give Mr. Crabtree for your anniversary?” (Y/N) tried to change the subject, ignoring the perfect thought of a little baby with Benedict’s eyes. Perhaps they would have her nose? Her smile?
“Well,” the older woman’s face lit up, “our Henry was the best kind of gift—for me or Mr. Crabtree. I wish I could be more help in that regard, dear.”
Defeated, (Y/N) threw a handful of apples into her basket. The apples weren’t even all that good this time of year. Perhaps she could convince Mrs. Crabtree to bake a pie. Either way, a snack for the horses and their hard work this morning.
“Please forgive me for speaking out of turn, ma’am,” Mrs. Crabtree spoke quietly, “but your husband loves you dearly, I am quite sure he would be most content with any gift you give him.”
“Oh I am sure he would be well suited to accept anything I made or purchased,” (Y/N) agreed. “I rather think I could sneeze on a piece of parchment and he’d write to the National Gallery to induct it into their collection.”
“He would,” Mrs. Crabtree agreed, holding back a laugh.
“Why did I marry such a thoughtful man?” (Y/N) groaned, fist clenching tighter on her basket. “I am destined to be in this predicament every year until the day I perish, aren’t I?”
“To be in a happy marriage, ma’am?”
“To have to deal with my inadequacy for gifts,” she corrected. “We are but a competitive match, after all. Chess is a blood sport with us,” (Y/N) laughed, recalling the last time they had played the game. They both were of the same mind, irritating as it were, it was as if they were playing themselves. It usually ended well regardless, with one under the other in the bedroom. “He probably has been planning something since we were wed, I’m sure. How do I ever top such a thing?”
“Might I suggest the baby narrative again?”
“Mrs. Crabtree, I know you mean it in jest, but it really sounds like my only option at this point.”
“I cannot help my need to see perfect little Bridgerton babies around the estate,” Mrs. Crabtree said cleverly. “But I also know when that day comes and you and Mr. Bridgerton do end up having children, it will be the most welcome of presents. Just, not this year, hm?”
“No,” she sighed, “not this year.”
“Very well,” Mrs. Crabtree nodded. “Perhaps we should head back to the estate?”
“I suppose,” (Y/N) sighed again, kicking a stray rock off of the path. “No use in sulking at the market when I can sulk in the comfort of my own home and await my perfect husband’s arrival with his perfect present.”
“Chin up, dear,” Mrs. Crabtree laughed, putting the baskets away in the carriage. “It’s endearing that you care so deeply about Mr. Bridgerton's gift. I’m sure whatever you land on will be just perfect.” A tease of sarcasm, a tease at her young missus.
“You’ve made your point,” (Y/N) grumbled, hopping into the cab. “Perhaps I should just accept defeat.”
“Oh, well now that won’t do,” Mrs. Crabtree admonished playfully, closing the door behind her. The carriage begun moving home. “You yourself said you were a competitive match, and I for one would like to see Mr. Bridgerton bested. All men need to be reminded that the wife is the true head of the house from time to time.”
(Y/N) snorted. How she cared so deeply for the staff here in the country, the Crabtrees were always a breath of fresh air. “He’s well aware.”
“Remind him anyway,” Mrs. Crabtree said absentmindedly.
As if struck by lightning, Mrs. Bridgerton knew exactly what she could gift her husband.
_
Benedict was exhausted. His family’s bad timing is never lost on him, needing his immediate attention at Aubrey Hall for one reason or another. His mother’s correspondence begged him to come urgently, a matter only meant to be discussed in person rather through letters. With a heavy heart he left his wife behind, knowing he’d only be gone for a handful of days anyway, even if he would be missing the majority of their anniversary day.
Benedict grinned wickedly. They still had plenty of the night, however.
When he originally had purchased My Cottage, he never expected to share the less-than-humble estate with anyone else, but like it was meant to be—and he had a very good reason to believe it was—(Y/N) made it her own and took to the country as well as he thought. She had even made fast friends with the Crabtrees, who, by all regards, Benedict thought of as family.
“Mr. Bridgerton,” Mr. Crabtree greeted, nodding to the young master exiting the carriage. Anthony had sent for him with a family transport—knowing Benedict would not want to leave (Y/N) without—all the more reason for his brother to agree to come to Aubrey Hall. “Welcome home, sir.”
“Crabtree,” Benedict nodded back, jumping down to the dirt path.
“How was your family, sir?”
“Dreadful,” Benedict groaned. “Made even more taxing by the two entire days of travel there and back. Do they not realize how far Wiltshire is to Kent?”
“I am sure the viscount is well aware,” Mr. Crabtree said, treading lightly. “I am also sure that they would not have called upon you for a small matter, either.”
“No,” Benedict sighed, rolling his shoulders. The trip had been a long one, his muscles ached. “It was a good reason for my visit, but it still pained me to be from my wife for so very long, especially today.”
“Ah, well, your missus has not been herself since you left,” Mr. Crabtree said. “I am quite sure that seeing you will be a happy reunion indeed.”
“Please ensure that you and your missus find your lodgings in the cabin, this eve,” Benedict said, as if the thought just occurred to him. Asking his staff to stay at the cabin by the pond became a regular occurance, especially after his marriage. “It is my anniversary, after all.”
Mr. Crabtree smiled. “Already done, sir.”
“Excellent,” Benedict said, trying his best not to grin from ear to ear. “Have a good night.”
“You as well, sir.”
Benedict knew that dinner would be waiting for him inside, Mrs. Crabtree probably having already made his favorites. After his day of travel, he was ravenous—more for food in this very moment than anything else, but he would settle for his wife, too.
“Darling,” Benedict called out, removing his boots by the front entryway. “Your fantastic husband has returned!”
Silence.
“Darling?” He called again, only to be met with the ticking of the grand clock in the foyer. “Playing hard to get, it seems…”
A shimmering of light caught his eye. Candlelight was emitting from his study, his studio, flickering from the crack under the door.
Odd.
“(Y/N)…?”
He opened the door cautiously, only to find his wife hunched over an easel. She had a streak of blue paint on her right cheek, a smidge of green right across the bridge of her nose. Benedict couldn’t recall the last time he saw something so endearing.
“Oh! Benedict!” (Y/N) said, nearly jumping five feet into the air. “You’re home!”
“I am,” he laughed, shutting the door to the study. “What’re you doing in here?”
“Cooking,” she deadpanned, posing with a hand on her hip, painters pallet in the other. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“After all my begging to get you to pick up a brush, you decide to do it whilst I’m away?” He pressed his hand to his chest. “I cannot decide if I am touched or hurt.”
“It was meant to be a surprise!” (Y/N) laughed, setting the pallet down. “A gift for you.”
“A gift?” Benedict mused, walking closer to his wife. “And what did I do to deserve such a gift?”
“You married me,” she said simply, wiping her hands of any wet paint. They were still covered in a kaleidoscope of colors, but all dried down and hardly worth the effort to clean at the present moment. “A year ago today, I gather.”
“Oh yes,” Benedict said knowingly. “That is today, isn’t it?” His wife grinned up at him, looking more beautiful than the day he met her, a day he could have sworn was burned into his mind forever.
“So I’ve been told,” (Y/N) said. “I hate to admit, but I started on this later that I would have liked, only working on it for the last eight hours—”
“You didn’t happen to forget our anniversary, did you?” Benedict crossed his arms, his voice teasing.
“Of course not!” She lied, keeping her voice even. “You are just an impossible person to make a gift for, that is all.”
“Ah,” Benedict clicked. He did not believe her, but forgave her all in the same breath. “I see.”
“So it is not yet finished—”
“May I see it?”
“No, not yet,” (Y/N) said, turning the easel away quickly. He couldn’t have possibly seen what it was from where he was standing, anyway.
“What if…” Benedict crossed the room, carefully opening the closet in the wall. “We showed them together?” He pulled a similar sized canvas from the contents of the closet, covered in a plain white sheet. Of course he painted her something, it seemed only right. She married an artist, after all.
“Yours is going to be much better than mine,” (Y/N) said, nearly melting into the floor. “I will feel inadequate comparing our work.”
“Nonsense,” Benedict scoffed, walking back towards his wife. “They were both made with the same amount of love, I’m sure of it.”
“Perhaps…”
“Come on,” he said, nudging her arm with the corner of his canvas lovingly. “On the count of three?”
She nodded. “One.”
“Two.”
“Three.”
She spun the easel around just as Benedict removed the cover from the canvas in his hand.
Laughter filled the room.
“Oh my darling, I could kiss you,” Benedict said, voice full of love, his eyes not straying from her canvas for a moment. “Granted, I have wanted nothing more than to kiss you since I arrived—”
“Out of everything we could have painted,” (Y/N) giggled, brushing hair out of her face. “We picked the same subject?”
On both canvases laid a landscape rendition of My Cottage, one obviously more well-done than the other. Benedict’s gave a sense of perfect imperfection, something worth hanging in a gallery or museum. (Y/N)’s, while being done by the hand of a novice in only a handful of hours, gave it the sense of home, the shared feeling the couple had every day at their estate.
“We share the same mind,” Benedict surmised, setting his work on a neighboring easel, putting both side-by-side. “What a stunning collaboration on our end.”
“You jest,” (Y/N) pushed Benedict playfully. “Yours is far superior to mine. A toddler could have done better work.”
“Nonsense!” Benedict said, pulling his wife into his side, kissing her temple. “You obviously put such care into it, no matter how lopsided the left side of our home may be—”
“Benedict—”
“It’s brilliant, my love,” Benedict sang, turning (Y/N) to look directly at him. “I couldn’t have asked for a better gift.”
“Truly?”
“Well, I fear I am still waiting on my welcome kiss…” Benedict sighed.
“Needy, needy man,” (Y/N) bubbled, rocking on her toes to reach her husband’s face, all but happy to oblige.
After a total of four days apart, the kiss was one that was worth waiting for. Saccharine sweet and slow, it was welcoming, it was home. Much like their first kiss, Benedict idly wondered if (Y/N)’s lips were always meant to be captured in his own—as if they were quite literally made for each other.
“Oh dear,” (Y/N) giggled, pulling away from her husband’s embrace, thumb rubbing soothing circles on his jaw. He needed to shave.
“What? Do I have something on my face?”
“Paint,” she said, swiping her thumb across his cheek. “Entirely my fault. I’m not even sure how I got it on my face to begin with…”
“Hardly the first time,” Benedict quipped, leaning back in to kiss her once more.
“Do you really like it?” (Y/N) asked, resting her head on his shoulder—their attention somehow turned back to the canvases. “Or are you lying to me?”
“I would never lie to you,” Benedict said. She believed him. “But, I do suppose a few more hours would boast well to the quality…”
Another playful slap to his arm.
“Where are we to hang yours?” Her hand grazed his masterpiece. He must have finished it ages ago, hiding it away for just the right moment. “The entryway gets too much sun—”
“What about our bedchambers?” He offered.
“No, I want our guests to admire your work of Our Cottage,” she hummed, focusing her attention to the beautiful wreath he lovingly added to the front door. She loved adorning their door with fresh flowers, a detail he surely could have overlooked, but still included anyway. “Perhaps in the drawing room?”
“Our Cottage…” Benedict mumbled happily. “I think it’s high time we changed the name to that, don’t you agree? Seeing as it is no longer ‘my’ anything, not with you here.”
“Considering it still is not a cottage in the slightest, I have a few disagreements on that alone,” she teased. Their estate was nearly the furthest thing from a cottage, nearly a small mansion. “But yes… Our Cottage seems fitting.”
“And where will we hang your masterpiece?” Benedict pulled her tighter into his side. “Shall we hang them side-by-side? Allow our guests to see just how talented the Bridgertons can be?”
“Oh I am quite alright with stowing this away until forever,” (Y/N) laughed. “No guest needs to see this poor attempt when the true artistry falls onto you.”
“Poppycock!” Benedict dismissed. “My wife worked very hard on this, I refuse to just ‘stow it away’.”
“Well, then where do you suggest we hang it?” She said, trying not to smile, his praise flooding her senses from her head to her toes.
“I may have a few ideas…”
_
The wondrous scent of flowers filled their home once more, something that happened more and more frequently in the summer months, when flowers of all sorts were in season. Benedict made sure he outdid himself from last year, adorning each room in their home with at least two bouquets each, rather than just a load in their bedchambers. His reasoning? They only get the once to celebrate their second anniversary, might as well make it special.
“Should we move this one?” (Y/N) asked, holding a rather large assortment in her hand. “I would hate for her to be overwhelmed by the scent…”
“Darling, she’s fine,” Benedict said, grabbing the bouquet from his wife. “But, if you insist, I shall make an exception on this room.”
“She’s a baby,” (Y/N) giggled, watching her husband clumsily run across the hall to place the bouquet in their bedchambers. “I do not think she has the capacity to admire such a thing yet.”
“We want our daughter to be well versed, do we not?” Benedict said, returning to the nursery. “Best we start her on the language of flowers as soon as we can. An educated lady is a respected lady.”
“You’re impossible,” (Y/N) grinned.
“So I’ve been told.”
“God, she’s so perfect,” she said, looking over the crib with a look one could only describe as lovestruck. “How did we manage to make such a beautiful thing?”
“You did most of the work,” Benedict said, suddenly beside her. “I only showed up the once, if I recall.”
“Oh hush,” (Y/N) leaned up against him, feeling the warmth of his body touching her own. “A perfect anniversary present.”
“She’s been quite the gift the last few months, I’ll give you that,” Benedict hummed, his fingers lazily rubbing shapes on the top of her arm. “But I’m afraid that title still falls to the gift from last year.”
Framed perfectly atop the crib of their precious baby girl was the rendition of their home, the one (Y/N) had worked so hard on a year prior. While it had looked a bit more polished after Benedict offered his wife some very well needed advice, it was still lopsided and patchy, but very much full of love. He had hung it two weeks later, after it had completely dried and framed, causing his wife to sob tears of joy on the placement.
Their daughter was born only nine months after.
“Our Cottage,” she sighed happily.
“Our Cottage,” Benedict kissed her temple, looking down at his daughter and back at his beautiful wife. “Happy anniversary, my love.”
#benedict bridgerton#benedict bridgerton x reader#bridgerton#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton imagines#hi i love b.b and no one can stop me#if anyone wants some wine with a side of this CHEESE come and see me
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Addams Family Steddie AU Part 3
Part One | Part Two
To preface, a bitch is sick rn so if you see any typos, no you didn't lol
"Robin, this is serious."
Steve can perfectly see Robin rolling her eyes through the phone as she says, "Oh, right, I'm so sorry your fiance-to-be is the perfect boyfriend who takes you on wonderful dates and romances you every single second you're together."
"I'm starting to think you're jealous."
"I'd only be jealous if Eddie had tits."
"He'd probably get some if I asked."
In the silence that follows, Steve can imagine Robin's scrunched face: her crinkled nose and curled lips and generally disgusted eyebrow furrow. He counts down from six in his head and then mouths along as Robin says, "I'd hang up if I weren't so invested in your love life."
"For someone so invested, you're not helping."
He hears a put-upon sigh through the speaker and returns it with a sigh of his own. Steve gives up on sitting properly and collapses back onto his bed, staring at the unmoving ceiling fan Hulyet is currently hanging from to nap.
"Fine, fine, what's the actual problem again?" Robin asks, her question followed by the sound of her shutting a book (one of her science textbooks based on the sound it makes when closing) so she can give Steve her full attention.
"Eddie is always planning our dates, and they're always really good, right? So I want to plan a date in return, but I have no clue how to plan something we'll both equally enjoy. In fact, I have no clue how Eddie plans our dates in the first place."
"Just start with something he likes and try to find something you'll like in it."
"Okay, say it again, but pretend I'm five."
Robin sighs again, and Steve hears the creaking of her bed as she collapses onto it. "Okay, the last date he planned, it was a hockey game, right?"
"Yeah."
"So, you like sports. Hockey is an obvious jump from there, but was Eddie also having fun at the game?"
Steve hums, reviewing their date from the week before. He hadn't expected Eddie to pull out hockey tickets, but he'd looked forward to it nonetheless. The game itself was fun, and the rink was cold enough that Steve had been able to scoot closer to Eddie and complain about being chilly.
Of course, Eddie's immediate response was to pull out a lighter, open it, and flick a flame to life while asking, "How big of a fire do you want, Stevie?"
For a brief moment, Steve had considered the question. But then he'd realized a fire would disrupt the hockey game, so they probably shouldn't start one.
After grabbing the lighter and stuffing it into his own pocket, Steve leaned closer and whispered, "Wouldn't you rather put your arm around me?" Eddie had lit up, and his smile was wide enough to make Steve feel blinded as he wrapped an arm around Steve's waist and pulled him closer.
It had been wonderful and romantic, right up until both of them got way too into the game and completely forgot about cuddling in favor of shouting at the players to hit harder and actually draw some blood to get the puck.
Steve smiles a little at the memory. "Yeah, he enjoyed the violence."
"Well, we all enjoy seeing buff people get a little bloody," Robin says, and Steve can see the way she's nodding like a wise man. "Anyway, he probably knew he'd enjoy the whole violence part of the sport. So, follow that formula."
"What formula are you seeing here?"
"Thing fiance-to-be likes plus a small part of it you could probably enjoy equals romance. If that's too hard, just get him a gift and plan the date around that."
Well, it sounds easy when she says it like that. "Why didn't I think of that?"
"Because I'm the genius here, obviously. Now go plan a date so you can tell me all about it later. And I expect details, Steven. Sordid details. If I'm not quivering in my bodice, what's the fucking point."
"You don't even have a bodice. And my name isn't Steven."
"I'll get one, and your name is whatever's comedically appropriate."
"I found a good website for bodices and corsets, actually. I can send it to you."
"What are you doing on that website, Steve?" Robin asks, her voice light and eager.
Steve smirks, pulling the phone away from his ear and saying, "Wouldn't you like to know," before quickly hanging up. The phone stays silent for three whole seconds before Robin immediately calls back, but Steve is too busy laughing to actually pick up.
Part of why the Munsons moved to Steve's neighborhood is the cemetery within walking distance. The cemetery is at the very back of the neighborhood, hidden from people who don't actually live there. The front of the cemetery is perfectly presentable. The gravestones are clean and new, and flowers decorate most graves while others hold pebbles and stones of various sizes and colors.
The back of the cemetery, however, is a Munson paradise. The grass gives way to brown, under-watered weeds and dirt, the faded gravestones are covered in moss and plants climbing them, and the trees are perpetually leafless and spindly to create the perfect horror movie atmosphere. It was like that even before the Munsons moved to the neighborhood, but Steve doesn't actually know why.
The back of the cemetery is where Steve leads Eddie, occasionally looking back to make sure the blindfold covering Eddie's eyes is still in place. "You know, I was expecting more than walking when you pulled out the blindfold," Eddie says, squeezing Steve's hand.
"We're almost there," Steve promises, looking around them until he spots the picnic blanket and pillows he'd laid down earlier in front of a blank gravestone. There's a small projector on the edge of the blanket, facing the wall of a mausoleum, with a DVD player connected to it.
Steve stops at the edge of the blanket, takes a deep breath, and moves to stand in front of Eddie. "Okay," he says, reaching up and carefully pulling off the blindfold.
When it comes off, Eddie looks straight at Steve, not sparing a glance at the set-up behind him. "Are you the surprise?" he asks, sliding his hands around Steve's hips and pulling him closer.
"I'm not much of a surprise," Steve points out.
"You're the best gift I could ask for," Eddie says, sealing the words with a kiss that would be too easy for Steve to get lost in.
And he almost does, but he pulls away before Eddie's tongue can get too far into his mouth. "No, wait, you haven't seen the actual surprise," he mumbles, putting a few inches between them and gesturing to the picnic blanket.
Eddie's eyes light up, and he pulls Steve to the blanket. He sits against the headstone and tugs Steve down next to him. "Movie date in a graveyard? Very romantic, sweetheart," Eddie says, leaning close and kissing Steve's jaw.
"Well, that's not the whole surprise," Steve replies, leaning his head on Eddie's shoulder. He hears a quiet hum from above him and adds, "This is our spot."
"What? Like a make-out spot? We gonna sneak out in the middle of the night to make out right here twice a week?"
"Only twice?" Steve asks, his voice teasing as he tilts his head back to see Eddie smile. He doesn't give Eddie the chance to answer, though. Instead, he takes Eddie's hand and plays with his engaged-to-be-engaged ring. "I mean, this is our spot. We're leaning on our gravestone."
A few seconds pass before Eddie seems to actually process the words. When he does, he straightens up, tugging Steve away from the gravestone with him so he can see it. "Is this...a couple's plot?" he asks, his eyes wide as he looks from the stone to Steve.
Steve flushes, heat rising in his cheeks as he looks away. He takes a deep breath, deciding to just verbalize his thought process when he'd bought the plot. "I figured, well, we wouldn't want to be apart even in death. So we'll be buried together, you know? Our corpses will be embracing as we rot for eternity, becoming skeletons and dust that will only know each other."
The words are followed by silence, making Steve wonder if he somehow fucked up with his gift. He braces himself and glances up at Eddie to ask if he doesn't like it only to be pushed back on the blanket. Steve blinks, his brain barely catching up as Eddie kisses him. This is, by far, the most desperate kiss Steve has ever received from Eddie. It's a kiss that's practically begging Steve to give Eddie permission to swallow him whole, tuck him securely into the marrow of his bones, and hold him there so they'll never be apart.
Steve is a little confused, but he's far more interested in kissing back, sliding his fingers into Eddie's hair and tugging playfully as he bites Eddie's tongue. A rough growl in response sends shivers down Steve's spine, goosebumps spreading across his arms as Eddie pushes his hands under Steve's shirt.
Surprisingly warm fingers trail across Steve's abdomen before Eddie's hands settle on his hips, his pinkies teasingly pushing past the waistband of his jeans. Steve sighs softly, relaxing at the familiar sensation as he hooks one of his legs over Eddie's waist, pulling him close until their hips and chests are flush against each other.
Eddie grins against Steve's lips, his left hand trailing down Steve's waist to rest on his thigh, holding it in place as he teasingly grinds their hips together. Steve jolts, a surprised, quiet moan escaping him as his hands start to tremble with adrenaline and...well, sheer horniness if he's being honest.
"Please tell me we can fuck on our future grave," Eddie says, his voice low and husky as he speaks against Steve's lips.
Steve groans, fully agreeable to the idea only to realize two very important things. One, he doesn't have any lube, and two, he was actually looking forward to watching movies with Eddie, which wouldn't really happen if they got too distracted. Plus, you know, the whole sex in public thing, but that's not as big of a deal. Who's going to be visiting the cemetery on a Wednesday?
But Steve doesn't want to completely dash Eddie's hopes and the sheer joy in his eyes at the idea, so he presses another kiss to his lips and promises, "Later, Eddie."
Despite his disappointed expression, Eddie doesn't argue. He just sits up, pulling Steve with him so he stays in his lap. "I'll hold you to that, sweetheart," he whispers, kissing down Steve's neck until he reaches the point where it meets his shoulder. He bites down there, causing Steve to inhale sharply as he licks and sucks a hickey onto his skin.
Steve shakily exhales, biting his bottom lip to keep himself grounded. When it feels like Eddie is about to start on another hickey, Steve uses his grip on his hair to pull him back. "Stevie," Eddie breathes, his eyes dark as he looks up at him, "you know what pulling does to me."
Steve snorts, kisses his cheek, and climbs off his lap. "Keep it in your pants for now, babe. I actually want to get to the other part of this date," he says, moving over to the projector.
"And what's that?" Eddie asks.
"Classic monster movies," Steve says, grinning at the excited gasp that comes from Eddie as he turns on the projector. Once it boots up, the mausoleum wall shows the opening menu for a Monster Movie Collection DVD. Steve puts on Frankenstein, making sure the movie actually starts and the opening credits begin rolling before climbing back into Eddie's lap.
"I love you so fucking much," Eddie says, wrapping his arms around Steve's waist and hugging him close as he rests his chin on Steve's shoulder.
Steve grins, leaning back against him and idly playing with one of the rings on Eddie's fingers. "I love you, too. Now shut up and watch the movie. No more making out until at least this one is over."
"Yes, sir."
Steve can't help a soft laugh. He takes Eddie's hand, raises it to his lips, and playfully bites his palm before lacing their fingers together and focusing on the movie.
Tag List:
@estrellami-1, @justforthedead89, @starman-jpg, @abstractnaturaldisaster, @sugartin, @ashwagandalf, @xjessicafaithx,
If anyone else wants to be tagged in potential future parts, just let me know!
#steddie#steddie fic#addams family steddie#addams! eddie munson#steve harrington#eddie munson#robin buckley#platonic stobin#there's a reference to Addams Family Values in here#whoever notices it please know I love you#also#for anyone who was curious about that lol#this au has consumed me body and soul
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Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby
Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader
—-
sypnosis: clarisse comforts you after a nightmare.
a/n: when luke in ep two said “we all get those super bad recurring nightmares” i don’t think he expected for me to screech and kick my feet and make fanfiction out of it. anyways, i hope you all enjoy!!
Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby - Cigarettes After Sex
warnings: nightmares obvi, mentions of death, mentions of violence, kissing, soft clarisse I NEEEEDDDDD YOUUUUU, pretty much cutesy tho, not proofread, tell me if i missed anything!!
—-
Clarisse always called you baby. She called you about every nickname under the sun, but she always came back to that one. That’s exactly how you ended up here in her bed.
You’re both not quite asleep yet, staring at the ceiling, listening to her siblings still shuffle around. Clarisse has the best bunk in the cabin, a single in the corner, and all the power and influence to make sure that no one snitches.
She only does this every once in a while, dragging you to her bed even while you worry about getting caught, calling you baby the entire time. She kisses your worries away and says that no one will care, no one will even notice.
It’s not like you’re doing anything bad, you’re just sleeping.
You recently got a new cabin mate, a very sweet boy who seems very scared and very young, but Gods does he snore extremely loud. You almost wonder if the healers should have a look at him- but he seems to have no clue that he snores.
You’ve dealt with snoring half-siblings for years, but none of them have been this bad before. It’s so loud you swear it sounds like a roaring truck.
And of course, Clarisse noticed. Clarisse noticed how hard it’s been to sleep lately, she noticed how you always seemed to reluctantly split up from her at the end of the day, she noticed the bags under your eyes.
As night continues to fall, Clarisse’s grip on you becoming looser as she slowly drifts off.
“Quiet, right?” she mumbles, kissing your forehead. You listen to her heartbeat. Much more comforting, much more rhythmic, much more her.
“Quiet,” you affirm.
“Good. I-I’ma fall asleep now. Night, baby,” she mutters, and you can feel her heartbeat slow and she’s out like a light.
Clarisse has always had this amazing ability to just knock out whenever and wherever. Even for a five minute power nap, she can lay her head on the table and be up and refreshed. Sometimes you even swear she closes her eyes and falls asleep standing.
You follow her.
It’s so quiet here, except for her breaths brushing against the top of your head, except for her heartbeat like a lullaby. It’s such a cold summer night, but you’re so warm in her arms.
Falling asleep is a lot like falling in love, because it’s all the same action of letting your guard down and letting something in. You fall asleep every night just like you fall in love with Clarisse every day.
—-
It’s cold. It’s so, so cold. There’s the ashes of a fire next to you, and you feel so startlingly alone, like you shouldn’t be alone.
You’re in the woods, but there’s sand on the ground instead of dirt and leaves. You’re in the woods, but there’s leaves on the trees even while you’re teeth chatter.
You stand up, bare feet sinking into the cold sand, your arms wrapping around yourself. You’re supposed to be warm in her bed. All your wearing is a t-shirt. It’s like you’re at the beach at night and you forgot the sun is the reason it’s hot.
There’s a whisper of a sound, like wind blowing, and the fire springs to life.
You gasp and jump back into a tree, the rough bark scratching at your back.
You look around but there’s nothing, no weapons, and the tree branches are too far up to rip one down. There’s no wood burning the fire, just ashes. But now that you look at it, the sand around the fire is covered in some sort of bubbling black liquid.
Only on one side, like it had been blown at it.
There’s some sort of slithering sound, like a snake, and talons dragging against a tree, like a knife.
It’s coming from above you.
You look up and barely have a second to realize a drakon is staring down at you, roaring right in your face, before it looks into your eyes and you can’t move. Can’t breathe.
You can’t do anything except for get swallowed whole.
—-
You jump up, blanket’s falling around you, gasping as you look around the dark room. But it’s not there, it’s not that weird place, it’s just the Ares cabin. It’s just Clarisse’s bed. It’s just Clarisse.
She shoots up right behind you, awake immediately.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” you whisper, thanking the Gods none of her siblings have woken up to see you so shaken by a stupid nightmare. “Nothing, sorry.”
She looks out into the darkness like she’ll see something, but she doesn’t, of course, it’s all in your head. You know it’s all in your head, but you can’t help feeling like it’s real.
“It’s not nothing.”
You lay back down, pulling the blanket up to your chin. You stare at the wooden ceiling.
“Don’t wanna talk about it,” you finally mumble.
“Y/N.” She always calls you baby, except for when she really wants to get your attention. “Tell me what happened.”
“Stupid nightmare. It was stupid. It’s all stupid and embarrassing.”
You can feel Clarisse visibly deflate. She settles back down next to you, laying on her side.
“It’s not stupid,” she whispers. “It’s normal. For demigods, at least.”
“It doesn’t feel that way.”
You press yourself closer to her and she lets you, she wraps her arms around you tight and folds herself around you. You feel shaky and uneasy, like there’s something under the bed, no matter how childish you know it is.
“Tell me what happened and I’ll tell you how I would have fixed it,” she says, her lips brushing your temple. She adds after a moment, “Or kill it. Was it a monster?”
“A drakon,” you whisper. She hums.
“Did it breathe fire? Spit acid? Have those creepy paralyzing eyes?”
“All of it.”
“Ooh,” she mumbles, like it’s a challenge. “I would… blind it with the electricity from my spear. And while it’s distracted, I’d stab it however many times you wanted.”
“I didn’t like that place either,” you whisper. “It was so cold. So dark, and it was like a forest was on the beach, cold sand.”
She doesn’t say anything.
Her hand travels up your body, tracing your face until she draws circles at your temple.
“I can’t protect you from what goes on in here. But I’ll always be out here, baby.”
“I know,” you say, and it’s true. “I know you will be.”
“So you won’t mind me telling you eight more times?”
“No,” you breathe, smiling.
“Good,” she kisses your temple. “I’ll always protect you. I’ll always protect you. I’ll always protect you. I’ll always-”
You shut her up by pressing a kiss to her lips. She smiles against you, slow and sweet, just you and her.
She drags herself up on the pillow, so her head is above yours, her arm under your head. Her other arm around your waist, hand splayed flat against your side.
“Sleep now, baby.”
“Clarisse.”
“I’m right here,” she says, like it’ll solve all the problems in the world. Yeah, the cabin’s burning down, yeah, there’s a tsunami coming towards you- but she’s right here. She’s right here. “Nothing’s gonna hurt you, baby.”
And you believe her.
Clarisse always calls you baby. She whispers that name in your ear until you fall asleep.
—-
y/n, waking up: omg that was so scary
clarisse, fully ready to start attacking the air: WHERE THEY AT BABY WHERE THE DEMONS AT WHERE DO U SEE THEM
we love a gf who supports their slightly schizophrenic gf (me, i am the slightly schizophrenic gf)
—-
me after choosing a drakon (the monster that killed silena in the last olympian) as the monster that kills y/n in the dream 😊😊😊😊😊
—-
taglist:
@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme
#clarisse la rue#clarisse la rue x reader#clarisse la rue x y/n#clarisse la rue x you#pjo tv show#pjo x reader
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The Bottle - Carlos Sainz x Reader
Plot: You'd always believed in soulmates, in your culture an old tradition was that a person would send out a letter in a glass bottle for their soulmate with clue's requesting the person who found it comes to find them.
Credit to myillicitaffair for the GIF
Carlos walked along the long stretch of sand with his cousin. It was summer and they were vacationing in Mallorca in the family property.
They'd gone for a morning jog keeping up with his fitness plan for over the summer break ready for the second stint of his F1 season.
"What's that?" Carlos mumbles looking down at the glass bottle buried half in and half out of the season. He reaches down to pick it up but his cousin smacks his hand away.
"It could be broken and hurt you!" he exclaims looking at Carlos in shock as to why he would be so silly.
"It's not broken look, there's a note inside I'm intrigued!" he says pulling it out the sand and popping the cork off the top that was keeping the paper dry.
He pulls the paper out looking and reading the note on it.
Dear Soulmate,
If you picked this up, it's because something called you too. In my culture when we do this and someone picks it up it means their our soulmate.
I now have to give you clues and if you're intrigued enough you'll come find me.
My name is Y/N and I'm 21 years old.
Clue 1: I'm from country known for it's monarchy!
Clue 2: I have a degree in fashion design from a top university
Clue 3: 2021
Clue 4. I work under Mr McQueen
Clue 5. 36
Clue 6. Enbankment
Yours Sincerely,
Your Soulmate.
"No way!" Carlos laughs re-reading it! He stuffs it in his pocket, knowing to take it home and look more into it.
"What was it!" his cousin asks looking over.
"Nothing!" he exclaims not wanting his cousin to think he was crazy, but Carlos had a strong belief in fate. This meant that of course he would come and find you.
You had actually sent that bottle out years ago on your 21st birthday in Australia, you were now 24 and thriving in your career as a fashion designer in Alexander McQueen.
You'd forgotten about the bottle since you'd done it, for a few months after you hoped someone would have found it but it slowly become one of those things you just forgot about.
For Carlos, he returned home with the note in his jacket pocket and he set it down on his desk.
He couldn't help but giggle re-reading over the clues and note. As a famous F1 driver he found the working under McQueen funny, but that didn't lead him too much.
But his best chance would be to join Lando for the week before the British Grand Prix, as he knew that you'd be in the UK. According to clue 1.
"Lando, please take this seriously this is a real person I want to find her!" he exclaims shoving the photocopied version of the original letter as he didn't want to destroy it.
"Okay, right so you've determined she's a uni student from the UK. There's like over 150 universities here so it's going to be impossible especially if we don't know what year she graduated" Lando sighs looking down the clues.
"Well, what about Clue 3, 2021, you recon that's when she graduated?" he asks and Lando puts a finger on his chin, thinking for a moment.
"It could be, but that would mean she also would have sent it out in 2021, how did this survive for four years at sea!" Lando exclaims looking over at Carlos who has his head tilted in shock.
"What do you mean?" he asks.
"Well, the youngest you can graduate is 21 in the UK, so if she did it in 2021, at age 21 she would now be 24?" Lando admits.
"And it says top UK, university that's either Oxford or Cambridge. And only Cambridge have a specific one called Fashion Design" Lando explains after some research making some deductions.
"Take me there!" Carlos says suddenly.
"To Cambridge... no mate! Look there's other clues. She's got a fashion degree, is in the UK and works under Mr McQueen, she probably is a designer in London HQ of Alexander McQueen which would explain Embankment!" Lando deducts and Carlos just has a shocked look on his face the whole time.
"What is Enbankment?" he asks.
"It's an underground station, I bet that's the station she uses to get home, to Apartment 36 perhaps?" Lando asks.
"Fuck onlyfans, if F1 fails become a god damn detective!" Carlos says pulling him into big hug before letting go and pulling shoes and a coat.
"Where are you going?" Lando shouts after him.
"The McQueen HQ building!" Carlos shouts back.
"Do you even know where it is?" he asks making Carlos pause.
"No, but I'll find it!" he shouts back before running out the door.
He tries to find his way around the underground system of London before googling the HQ and where it was. He eventually got there into the reception checking to see it was 4pm, not the end of office work day so maybe he would catch you.
"Hi there, really sorry. Looking for a Y/N?" he asks and the older lady looks over at him with a frown.
"Business?" she says in a posh British accent.
"Erm..." he couldn't think of anything to say.
"She's a friend of mine from Uni, from Cambridge" he smiles and she looks over him.
"Well, you just missed her, she left for the day about 10 minutes ago!" she offers and he sighs.
"Enbankment!" he says before running out the building. He runs down to the underground and he starts to look around all the people on the platform.
You were stood there, leaning against the underground wall and reading your book.
Carlos eyes were darting around the platform, he could make deductive reasoning. He was looking for a 24 year old fashionista and when his eyes met yours, it was like something in him just knew that it was you.
You looked at him with your head cocked to the side in confusion as to why this man was looking like that as you. However, as the tube pulled into the station your gaze wavered as you made your way on.
Carlos was in awe that he wasn't moving until someone ran past him to try catch the door. He realized you were gone and must be on the train, so he did the same getting on as the doors were closing into separate compartment.
He waited and at every stop he'd poke his head out to see if you got off. At one particularly busy stop, some people get off and a bunch of people push on before he can poke his head out, he gravitates back towards the front and sees your hair in the little bow walk away and towards the exit.
He pushes through and jumps out the doors just as they are about to close. He runs up the only stairs that are there seeing you at the top swiping a rail card onto the scanner and being let out of the gates.
He runs foreward swiping his own card.
"Hello, sir... can we take a minute of your time to talk about Climate Change!" a protester stops him, with a smile on his face where he looks behind her to see you stepping out into the sun lit street.
"I'm really sorry! No! I'm late to meet someone!" he explains before pushing past and running through the gate swiping the Oyster Card he owned from when he worked with McLaren.
He runs out onto the street where you did letting his eyes adjust to the light as he looks around for you. His eyes catch the long dress you were wearing, it was colourful and red, a colour he considered his since working for Ferrari.
He saw you walking into a building block and started to run towards the traffic lights and presses the button straight away. He waits for the green man before running across apologising to anybody he bumped into. He finds the entrance seeing security there and panics.
God they'd think he was crazy if he asked them to let him in. But then again. He was Carlos Sainz!
"Hey, I was hoping i could look round the building. I'm thinking of letting a place!" he smiles his puppy smile at the two guards on the gate who turn to him with stoic expressions before noticing who it is.
"Yeah sure! That's fine! Can we get a picture with you? Me and my son are huge fans!" he exclaims making Carlos nod. After he walks into the building looking around for a map of where rooms were.
36 - thats what he was looking for.
17th floor, he got into the lift and pressed the number shooting up. He fixed his hair in the lift getting nervous to meet you, this complete stranger.
Why was he even doing this?
He exists the elevator and walks down the corridor to your apartment and stands outside. He waits for what feels like forever before he knocks on the door.
He waits and then there you are in front of him.
"Hi" he breathes out looking over your gorgeous features.
"Can I help you?" you ask looking over him. You could sort of remember his face, but from where you didn't know right now.
"Erm, I!" he starts.
"Wait your the guy i saw in the tube, did you ... follow me here?" you ask stepping out the apartment shutting the door behind you so he couldn't get in if he was a crazy person.
"Yes. But, your Y/N, you should be 24 right now. You went to Cambridge and studied Fashion design and live in a country with a famous monarchy. You work for a Mr McQueen which actually means Alexander McQueen where you use the tube to get to work each day and live at apartment 36" Carlos breathes out all in one breath, you cock your head to the side in curiosity wondering why they were such specific facts until he pulls out a sheet of paper that you never thought you'd see again.
"No!" you laugh putting a hand over your mouth.
"Where did you find this!" you ask looking up at the man in awe.
"A beach in Mallorca" he offers scratching the back of his neck trying to work out what you were thinking right now.
"I chucked this off a boat in Australia on my 21st birthday" you gasp in shock at how far it had come.
"My family has a holiday home in Mallorca and it was on the beach where I run everyday!" he smiles nodding.
"And you actually came to find me?" you laugh in shock thinking it was a silly thing your mum would always tell you was how your family did things. Its how she found your dad, how you nan found your grandad and how your aunt found your uncle.
"Well, I did find it. I was curious!" he grins, looking at you and you look around the corridor before you bite your lip.
"Did you maybe want to talk about all this craziness over dinner?" you ask looking up at him.
"I'd love that!" he smiles, holding a hand out for you.
"I cant believe you found me!" you smile, placing a kiss on his cheek making them turn a little pink.
"Mmmm I did find you! All from the Bottle."
Taglist:
@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @formula1mount @tinydeskwriter @butterfly-lover @ironmaiden1313
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1 x you#formula 1#formula one#formula one fanfiction#carlos sainz x y/n#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz fluff#carlos sainz imagine#carlos sainz fanfic#cs55 x reader#cs55 imagine#carlos sainz#carlos sainz jr#carlos sainz 55
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꒦꒷ enhypen ! and your infamous ship with them<3
idol-ot7!enhypen x idol-fem!reader .. fluff .. no warnings<3 not proofread!!
read pt.1 here!! — since you all liked it<3
ε ї з — heeseung
as if his heart eyes for you at the interview weren’t enough, heeseung started talking about you a lot in his lives, which only adds to your fan’s delusions.
he’d go on and talk about his day in his lives when all of a sudden he’d turn on some music and the first song he’d pick would be one of your songs.
“this song is so good, i listen to it almost every day, this artist y/n is really talented i really love her songs” he’d say with a big smile.
and oh, this is definitely not the end, he’d also go on and rant about the first time meeting you and tell them about those times when you bumped into each other, as if he’s telling his best friend about a new crush he has.
“i was walking down the aisle when i accidentally bumped into her, she was in a bit rush so she apologized quickly and ran away, it was so funny i didn’t know what to do” he’d giggle, “after that she saw me again and even got me a snack, that’s cute”
with delusional fans, comes the delusional tweets of fans, and the conspiracies about heeseung having a crush too (which might be true)
“if i wasn’t so sure before, now im more than 100% sure that this boy is having a crush on her, and i’m all in for it!!”
ε ї з — jay
a week after the valentine’s day story blew up, jay went on a live again, just casually talking with his fans that he loves and appreciates so much.
jay was ranting about a cake his mom made him,and explained how cool the design she did looked, to the point where he actually took his phone and scrolled through his gallery to show them a picture.
usually, when idols show their phones on lives or such, they’d turn off their notifications, only this time jay was so into it that he forgot to do it.
at the same time you, being the good old friend you are, responded to a text he sent you a few minutes ago, even before he started the live.
as he was showing his picture on his phone to the fans he also got a notification from you, it was a matter of a few seconds for fans to realize your contact name, and a few seconds for jay to realize he’s doomed.
jay tried to laugh it off but it was too late. now even those who didn’t ship you two and had doubts about it are left speechless.
“i admit i didn’t believe the valentine’s day story and their ship, but now knowing they text each other and probably do every day too? YES!!”
ε ї з — jake
your old meet up with jake was actually filmed for a short vlog, you both work under the same company so it was pretty common to meet up and get it filmed.
a few days after the scandal blew up, a really short vlog of the both of you got released.
fans rushed to watch it and see any clue of jake since it was rumored he was going to be there. the short film got around 100k+ in no time!
fans felt like swooning whenever they watched your interactions, you and jake even spoke in english, considering the fact that you both are foreigners and feel comfortable speaking in english.
jake never looked more shy than when he was literally standing next to you, holding his signed album and just waiting for the right moment to give it to you.
if you’d ask any fan that watched this short vlog, they’d probably tell you they’re 100% sure that something is up with the both of you. the way that he looked at you was something fans never saw before, and the way that you looked at him was as if you finally got to talk with your crush after years of crushing over him.
“i NEVER thought i’d be able to see both of my ults in one frame together!! i bet you a million dollars that they’re dating and fight me if they’re not!! it seemed like they tried to hide it but it looked too overact”
ε ї з — sunghoon
everyone’s favorite ambassadors!! your couple photoshoot got so famous that even people who never heard of the two of you refused to believe you’re not dating.
on your first photoshoot together, you and sunghoon did some funny tiktok challenges that got super famous to the point that people started making edits out of them.
ever since then, each time you’d see each other you’d make a tiktok together, wether it’s a dance challenge or just a very trendy tiktok hence, it wasn’t such a surprised that enhypen’s tiktok account and your tiktok account was filled with tiktoks of the both of you together.
fans brought up new conspiracies of the both of you going on short dates and filming tiktoks together, a whole new chaos was created.
if you thought these tiktoks were enough then think again because not only your tiktok was filled with the both of you, but you also made sure to take many many photos and post it on instagram.
i think out of all ships, yours and sunghoons shippers are being fed so well honestly and they never ever complain about it.
“i never heard about these two until i saw their photoshoots!! you can’t tell me they’re not dating?? and we get too many contents of them two im fully convinced they’re just dropping hints”
ε ї з — sunoo
new years awards came in fast, and all fans were looking forward to collab stages, it was rumored that a lot of 3rd gen and 4th gen are going to perform together, but fans never ever expected you and sunoo to be on one stage together.
him dancing to your performance in one award got so famous that fans even made memes about it, like “me when my favorite song is playing in one store” and more!
the thing is, this stage included only you and him, which made the fans go even more crazy. you and sunoo? on one stage? all alone? fans hoped so bad for that and it happened.
you and sunoo ate the performance, it included a lot of skinship and difficult moves that even fans who tried to cover the collab stage complained about it being really hard.
a stage between a female idol and male idol isn’t something that’s very popular lately (sadly!!!) so it was such a surprise that you and sunoo actually did it.
king and queen of kpop confirmed! your new ship nickname was formed in no time and other fans who watched your stage was mesmerized by how good you two look together.
“IM GOING CRAZY RN!! sunoo and y/n, boyfriend and girlfriend on one stage AND THEY ATE THAT PERFORMANCE!! imagine being on stage with your partner they’re so iconic for that!!”
ε ї з — jungwon
as weeks went by with you and jungwon being MCs, fans got used to see the both of you together every week, it became a routine for them to open their laptop and stream your live, they’ll always find the time to watch the two of you.
when your contract ended, fans were devastated and didn’t want to move on, they even considered to stop watching the show without having the two of you.
even in your last day, you and jungwon looked so sad and unmotivated which made fans even more sad than before. the memories you created will always stay in the show’s history and fans’ hearts.
i guess both of your fans got super lucky because your companies were smart enough to sign the both of you up to a new variety show!!
new content of the both of you together?? in one variety show?? your fans can’t be thankful enough honestly.
fans were going mad watching the both of you being too comfortable around each other, basically doing everything together and staying really close to each other.
“anyone else waiting for them to accidentally expose their relationship on this variety show? come on!! its too obvious they’re dating!!”
ε ї з — riki
ever since that time the both of you met accidentally, the coffee shop became super famous, mostly people who waits to catch the both of you together are going there.
ever since then, fate has its own ways of getting to you, and each time you’re going to buy coffee in local stores, you happen to see him too.
you once uploaded a photo of your coffee to your weverse account and fans noticed a very familiar figure, who just happened to upload a photo of his coffee with you in the background.
and if that wasn’t enough, you were caught by fans together in the same place and this time, even shared a really long conversation. it became a usual thing for the both of you to meet up whenever you’re off to buy coffee, as if you know where to go if you want to meet up.
fans refuse to believe that this is all a coincidence since the evidences are always there, you’ve been seen around each other too many times, even in photos you yourself uploaded.
at one point you just decided to upload a photo together and tease your fans a bit, and it actually worked because the next day you became trending as the coffee couple.
“coffee couple has done it again! do you think their dates must have coffee in it? like what if they go to watch a movie? popcorn and coffee? anyways im fully convinced they’re always planning it and we’re just here to watch”
••• copyright © srjlvr all rights are reserved.
PERM TAG-LIST ; @sungwhoonz @ohdudehesflirting @unlikelysublimekryptonite @deobiis @manooffline @miumiuoi @in-somnias-world @filmofhybe @wonbinsnovia @daegutowns @aurumiee @soobywon @dhriti-stories @ariadores @firstclassjaylee @watamotee33 @moons-v @s00buwu @hoonheepretty @lovelovelovebts (bold means cannot be tagged)
#enhypen imagines#enhypen drabbles#enhypen reactions#enhypen scenarios#enhypen fluff#enhypen headcanons#enhypen x reader#heeseung imagines#heeseung x reader#jay imagines#jay x reader#jake imagines#jake x reader#sunghoon imagines#sunghoon x reader#sunoo imagines#sunoo x reader#jungwon imagines#jungwon x reader#riki imagines#riki x reader
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Needy | Luke Hughes
summary: you and Luke have been at the lake house for a few days now and what happens when Luke realises that he can’t last as long as he thought he could with the sight of you in a bikini?
request: yes/no
warnings: sexual themes, oral (m receiving), swearing.
word count: 1.35k
authors note: is it wrong of me to say that I totally forgot about this request..? no but seriously I had no clue how to write this prompt for anyone, especially Luke so I’ve just made him a horny teen lmao. hope you enjoy it!
Luke couldn’t take his eyes off of you.
It had been the longest week of his life at the lake house. Your outfits only seemed to comprise of your swimsuits and his shirts. He swore that he had been so well behaved keeping his hands off of you.
But there was something about the sight of you in some random unbuttoned baseball jersey -that you had of course stolen from Luke- as you ate some watermelon that you just helped Ellen cut up Luke felt himself break.
His swim trunks began to tighten as he watched the watermelon juice drip down your chin “you want some?” You asked as you pointed the piece of fruit in his direction.
Luke’s cheeks turned flushed as he thought you had caught on to what he was thinking “huh?” He coughed ignoring how you raised your eyebrows at him.
You smiled as the boy ran his fingers along your leg “asked if you wanted some of this,” you explained as you brought your lips back to the piece of fruit so that you could take a bite from it before you pointed it back at your boyfriend.
The hockey player had to pull you on to his lap before he even thought about eating that watermelon. With his brothers and their friends walking around the porch Luke couldn’t have any of them seeing the boner that he was currently sporting “Luke!” You squealed as you let out a laugh.
He brushed the hair out of your face as he let his fingers trail down to your chin “should I take that as a no?” A giggle fell from your lips as you took another bite of the fruity.
Luke couldn’t help it with he let out a groan “I want to eat something much more tasty,” he explained as he brought your lips to his own.
The kiss was needy as his tongue dragged over your lower lip causing you to groan “can I maybe not have to watch this?” Jack complained as he walked out to see that you had dropped what was left of your watermelon on the porch.
You pulled away from Luke as your cheeks turned warm “sorry,” you were quick to apologise as your hands wrapped around your boyfriend’s neck.
The middle Hughes brother gagged when his brother move his lips to your neck “could you not do this out here?” The forward whined causing Luke to smirk “wanna go for a ride?” The younger boy asked as you as he cocked his head.
You had finally caught on to what he was implying as your mouth formed an o shape “Luke!” You gasped as you slapped your hand over your mouth.
Thankfully for him Jack had walked away fearing that he would hear anything more “I’m not letting you fuck me on the boat.” You shook your head letting your thighs clench around your boyfriends lap.
It made him smile “my room then? He proposed letting his fingers drag along your thigh.
Luke let out a laugh “you’re so naughty,” you whined when he placed a chaste kiss on your cheek “only for you.” The boy murmured as he moved his lips to your ear “I want you right here.” He left a kiss on the shell of your ear “right now.” That was when you knew he had won.
The mental coin toss was one that you had given up on minutes ago “let’s go upstairs then.” You mumbled as you grabbed his hand trying to pull him up.
It stroked Luke’s ego like there was no tomorrow “now you’re the one who’s eager.” He teased you as the two of you made your way into the house.
The boys watched in amusement as Luke wrapped his arm around your shoulders “maybe we should go for a ride?” Cole proposed as he could tell where this was clearly going to go.
It caused you to flip him off “go get some pookie!” Trevor cheered before all of the boys followed the oldest Hughes boy out of the house.
You two barely made it into his room before he pushed you onto the bed “we should probably play something.” You gasped as your boyfriends lips went to your neck, you grabbed your phone as you tried to find a playlist that could be loud enough. Whilst everyone was out of the house you still didn’t want to be caught.
The boy nodded as he fiddled with the ends of the jersey. He loved seeing you in his clothes but he loved seeing you in even less “want you to be my good little girl.” Luke cooed when he pulled at the string of your bottoms.
You groaned as you tried to get up “got something else in mind first,” you smiled as you looked up at him due to the sheer difference in height.
It was now the hockey players turn to be confused “yeah?” He mumbled as he waited for you to continue your line of speech.
Letting your fingers run over the waist band of his swim trunks you smiled as you kissed him “seems like you’ve been thinking about this for a while,” you pointed out as you motioned down to the boner that he was currently dealing with.
All that Luke could do was nod as you pulled his shorts down “want to make you feel good,” you murmured as you dropped to your knees.
As unintentional as it might have been you truly didn’t remember the last time you gave him a blow job as you two were far more fond of actual sex rather than the foreplay, it’s what happened when you were impatient college kids.
You let your tongue provide these little kitten licks that drew a loud groan from his lips “don’t tease me please,” Luke begged as his hands wrapped around your hair bringing it into a makeshift pony tail.
He loved the way your mouth took him so well, letting your tongue swirl around his cock as you took him as far as you could.
Now of course being with Luke for two years you had learnt how to really get to him and that was what made the hockey player turn into putty in your hands.
You let your nails softly run up his legs as he gasped “you’re so perfect.” He repeated that string as he increased the speed of his thrusts.
Whilst the two of you knew that the boys were outside you really didn’t think that you were going to have long.
Part of you wanted to feel bad for him because you could see know long he had been waiting to have some kind of intimacy with you and once you swore off of doing it when Jim and Ellen were in the house Luke was glad to know that the rule did not apply when the couple went grocery shopping.
Luke knew from the moment he got upstairs that he wasn’t going to last long with whatever you two ended up doing, and the gargling noise that you were making whenever thrusted deep enough was certainly not going to help his cause “fuck baby.” He mumbled as his body began to shake.
Your favourite part about getting Luke off? That moment when you get off of your knees and show him that you’ve swallowed.
It always caused him to go weak in the knees, time and time again “c’mere.” Luke smiled as he wrapped his arms around your waist before he pulled you into a kiss.
Luke after coming was always really soft, it was one of the things you loved most about him.
But the moment between you was short lived as you heard your phone go off.
quinn: is it safe for us to come back yet?
quinn: Trevor is trying to water ski without any skis.
You let out a laugh as you showed your boyfriend the messages from his older brother.
For now it seemed like Luke was going to have to wait a little bit longer for round two.
#luke hughes x y/n#luke hughes oneshot#luke hughes imagines#luke hughes x you#luke hughes x reader#hockey imagine#nhl imagine#nhl oneshot#hockey imagines#oneshots#imagines#nhl smut#hockey smut#luke hughes smut#amber writes fics
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The Big Damn Kiss
Buckle up, my fellow Good Omens Ineffable Mystery Puzzlers, Crackpotters, and Assorted Brainrotters, because I learned something HUGE yesterday.
This will be a bit of a long post, because I want to show you exactly how I got where I am. I want you to understand. I want to put all the naysayers to bed (ha! But I'm still gonna try), and settle this once and for all.
I know (almost) exactly what Crowley gave to Aziraphale during the kiss.
DO NOT TAKE ANY OF MY THEORIES TO NEIL! PLEASE!
Okay? Okay. Thanks. Shall we begin?
Ahem.
Firstly, whether you believe me or not, I am 100% certain that Crowley did, indeed, give something to Aziraphale in his mouth during The Kiss. I've covered that in the link previous. Okay? Okay.
I did not know what it was. I've now heard theories that it was a bullet (nope), a ball bearing (nope), hellfire (nope), and no one, NO ONE has suggested what I see. (If you have, hello! Talk to me!)
Here's our first foreshadowing Clue:
And here's our next foreshadowing Clue:
And the next:
And our last Clue:
With me so far? Well, that first GIF is a bit off, I couldn't find one of Crowley actually spitting out the flies. But he does. When Beelzebub first drags him to Hell, he actually goes "Pleaugh!" and spits out four or five flies.
Moving right along, we come to Crowley in Heaven with Muriel, looking at the trial. We learn two important things here:
One, Gabriel doesn't have a desk.
Two, Muriel does. Where they keep the records. And it's a bit lonely. Every few hundred years, someone comes and asks for something. Muriel can't access the sensitive ones, you have to be pretty high up. A throne, dominion, or higher. Like, maybe Supreme Archangel?
So if Gabriel doesn't have a desk, whose desk is he at when he's getting ready to leave Heaven? Of course I can't find a damn picture of Gabriel at the desk, but it's Muriel's. Where they keep the RECORDS.
Gabriel puts his memory into the fly, then gets on the elevator to go to Earth.
Now, when Gabriel opens the fly with his memories inside, we find out that it's a container. Bigger on the inside. You can put thing(S) in it. The bit we see of him remembering is shot in two parts, one where he's flying down a red tunnel, one where he's flying down a blue. If you slow this scene down and watch, you can see that he is NOT looking at just his own memories. There is more going on here, more that he was not present for. @embracing-the-ineffable put up a great meta about that here. Go look!
Now I figured Gabriel must have taken something else. Something important. Something useful. Something he meant to give to Aziraphale, except he forgot.
I also figured he must have left whatever it was in the fly when he took his memories out. Crowley must have realized while watching the trial footage that Gabriel also grabbed something else. I don't know when Crowley grabs the fly, but he does. And that is what he gives to Aziraphale in the kiss. Why? Well.
I had no idea what Gabriel took until I started working on the chiastic structure of season 2. I'm not done with that analysis yet, but let me show you one thing that I have found so far:
(The numbers are just to try and help me navigate the story and its events without time stamps)
My note #357 of what happens isn't quite right, but when I saw the only two times Aziraphale says "I forgive you" are towards the beginning of Season 2 and towards the end, I realized I had something.
Rephrase line 357: Crowley's kiss is forgiven IN EXCHANGE FOR RECORDS.
(Not that I think Crowley's kiss needs to be forgiven. It's just what Aziraphale says, and had to say at that moment, because the Metatron was listening in.)
What does Heaven in Good Omens remind us of most of all?
A big corporate entity. And what do powerful people do when they get fired from a big corporate entity? They download all their emails while they're cleaning out their desks. Damning emails. Emails that can be used to black mail or even destroy big corporate entities. Or, ya know, maybe they swipe some sensitive RECORDS?
Oh yes.
Records that Gabriel meant to give to Aziraphale, but he forgot. Records that Crowley realized Gabriel had put in the fly. The fly that Crowley grabbed once Gabriel had his memory out. The fly that he gave to Aziraphale when he kissed him. The fly that no longer held Gabriel's memory, but did still contain those damning records.
Here's Aziraphale reading the records:
Here's Aziraphale being horrified and outraged by what he's reading:
And here's Aziraphale realizing he has got some GOOD DIRT on Heaven. Maybe enough to bring them down:
That's it folks. I have no idea what the records actually say, and maybe we're not meant to know until season 3, but whatever it is, it's GOOD.
That's my story, and by God Herself, I'm sticking to it.
#good omens#good omens 2#crowley#good omens meta#aziraphale#ineffable husbands#aziracrow#good omens analysis#good omens fan theory#ineffable mystery#aziraphale elevator#corporate heaven#the big damn kiss#the kiss#good omens muriel#good omens gabriel#good omens beelzebub
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