#this is a test run to see if things are too scary | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fortheloveofleon · 6 months

Note

So, what if reader as spider person do smth WRONG like bad wrong, miguel got pissed (an understatement) and they run from miguel, they manage to hide from miguel for a good while but miguel eventually catch them, some fight happens and miguel has had enough he broke some bones and made sure the other spider person also couldn't do anything (the venom thing). The rest is up to you!

WICKED GAMES

⊱ Pairing: Yandere!Miguel x Spider!Reader

⊱ Summary: You decided to test Miguel’s limits and took something that didn’t belong to you. So, what’s the obvious response when the most terrifying Spiderman finds out? You hide. Unfortunately for you, Miguel enjoys the “seek” part a bit too much.

⊱ Contents: 18+, Yandere!Miguel, Dark Content, Scary? Content, Jealousy, Dub-Con, Non-Con, Dom!Miguel, Hate-Fucking, Face Slapping, Orgasm (M+F), Primal Kink, Biting, Creampie, Choking, Man-Handling, Hair Pulling.

Heavy footsteps fall to the concrete with each stride you take, lunging forward in a panicked haste. Soft breaths tremble in your lungs. The tightness in your chest grows and grows as you head further through streets.

Iridescent lights flicker above your head, and the smell of metal is making your eyes glass over. Even whilst slinking through these dingy streets and crooked alleys, you still haven’t entirely made out where you actually are.

And it’s all your fault.

Is it that bad you wanted to be treated like an adult?

You’re a grown woman. A Spider.

But Miguel refused to see you as such, always keeping an eye on you “just in case.”

You were sick of feeling like glass, and you were determined to prove yourself, so you made a wrong decision that just felt so right at the time;

You stole a portal watch from his lab.

Your naïve belief of thinking Miguel wouldn’t find out only made matters worse, and made him fucking livid when he did.

Thanks to a tip from Hobie back at Headquarters, you’ve managed to get a head start. So here you are, jumping from universe to universe, world to world, trying to escape the consequences.

After what seems like hours of running, you’ve arrived in some sort of warehouse, dead and silent. Dripping pipes and crunching glass are the only sounds accompanying your heaving breaths.

But just when you thought you’re safe, a sudden whirring noise rings through the air, echoing around you.

There’s a hovering gash, pulsing and glowing, omitting a flurry of blue particles. A burst of sparks, red and orange, rip open this cosmic, hexagonal wound to reveal a vacuum of time and space.

You make out a burly shape slipping out of it.

The portal leaves as quickly as it came, disappearing in a flash of light. A masked figure stands on the deserted warehouse floor, unmoving.

Using your webs, you pull yourself up to the beams of the roof, hiding and looking down.

You already know who it is.

Pulling the navy mask from his face, wavy hair ruffled and eyes dark, Miguel looks around the seemingly vacant room — you’re nowhere to be seen.

“I know you’re in here,” he drawls out, voice heavy. “It’ll be a lot quicker for me, and easier on you, if you just come out now.”

You say nothing, waiting with bated breath.

So does he.

He clicks his tongue, eyes rolling in irritation.

“Fucking…fine!” the brunette tuts, teeth gnashing together, chest heaving as he sighs. “You want to play a little hide-and-seek? Be my guest.”

Right now, you’re barely paying attention to his rambling; your gaze remains locked on a chance of escape.

Embedded in a wall across the room, is a vent.

You might get to it. If you’re quick enough.

Doing your best to stay quiet, perched on the balls on your feet, you slink across the metal beam, using only the webs of your palms to move with haste.

Shuddery breaths slip through your lips as you pull yourself closer to freedom.

“Oh, I forgot to mention one thing,” Miguel‘s voice echoes out from somewhere down below.

But, stupidly, you pause.

You take the chance to peek down, and the sight makes your heart fall — Miguel is stood by a light switch, one sharp finger resting against the button.

He’s looking straight at you, eyes crinkled in a humourless smile.

“We’re playing by my rules.”

And suddenly, the room flickers into a sea of black.

You manage to bury your scream somewhere between your chest and throat. One hand remains slapped over your mouth, tears pouring silently. You cling to the rafter, pressing your whole body down, swallowing wordless pleas.

Cold metal grunts beneath your nails. The sounds of creaking and shuffling echo around you, calling out in the dark.

Then, it’s eerily silent.

Hallowed breaths shake from your ribs. Your throat burns, and you blink rapidly, trying to find some sense of direction in this surrounding inky abyss.

But it’s no use; you need to get out here now.

You muster up the courage to drop to the floor, perching on the balls of your feet. Droplets of water splash around you, and force back a squeal, fists clenched, adrenaline rushing.

You swivel around, waiting for the reach of a clawed hand.

Still, nothing.

Unbeknownst to you, Miguel’s fighting back to urge to pounce on you right now, forcing his hand away from his crotch. But the look of pure anguish on your face has his cock harder than ever.

You’re pivoting on your feet every second, trying to make out where he can be.

It’s like he’s everywhere.

“Y’know, I had to force LYLA to show me your location on the Quantum Map?” his voice travels.

Gasping, you turn, swinging at the dark. White, hot thrill pulses through veins, pulsing through your body, tempting you with a high you can’t find anywhere else.

“Threatened to dismantle her software,” Miguel chuckles. You can hear the smirk in his tone. “It was funny, you should’ve heard her beg.”

“See?” you breathe out, head swivelling. “Even your personal AI knows you’re a fucking psycho,”

“That’s a pretty ballsy thing to say for someone who’s scared of me,” the dark calls out. The sound of deep laughter chimes around.

You swallow hard, blinking — it’s not a secret.

You are scared of him.

A majority of people, in the Spider Society or not, are scared of Miguel. He’s used to the looks of agitation, the fleeting glances, the scurrying.

But for some reason, he takes great pride knowing he can make you twitch.

“Do I scare you?” he whispers, humming your name. He sounds so close, words brushing your ear.

Behind you, a heavy claw reaches out of the dark, running gently up your spine — a warning.

The movement has you rushing forward, scrambling away, hiccuping out a scream.

You start to run, panicked.

Where to, you don’t know, but you’re running, fast and blindly.

Shoes hitting the floor with each step, you stumble and drag yourself forward, staggering through this maze of black, feeling the walls for any sign of exit.

Miguel follows your movements, waiting for his moment to strike, hard and true.

He watches the way you pull the mask from your face, breathing heavily in frustration, nimble hands tugging at the bolted doors and windows.

He smiles, seeing the panic settle in on your features when you realise you’ve run out of web fluid, leaving you stranded on this warehouse floor.

Suddenly, he hears nails scratching the concrete. He watches on as you grope the floor blindly, feeling out for something.

“No,” you whisper to yourself. “S-shit, fucking shit!”

Then, it clicks. Finally, the last domino has fallen.

Miguel grins in the shadows, eyes resting on the puddle by his feet. A soft glow shimmers against the water, revealing something digital and sunken.

You’ve dropped your portal watch.

How could you have lost it? It was just on your wrist. How could have been so careless, so stupid? Now, you’re trapped.

No longer relying on your silence, you begin to kick hard at the chained doors, grunting and groaning as the iron jangles.

Right now, you don’t have the time to fucking critique yourself, you need to leave.

“Fucking. Open!” you breathe out, booting at the metal. The head of the lock begins to bend, the doors shaking under the weight of your blow.

But just as hope begins to beam, a sudden crackling thud booms above you.

You turn.

The end of the warehouse is flooded in light, fluorescents humming. As you peer down, a tall figure crouches, and stands, facing you.

Miguel’s grinning hard, fangs and claws on show.

Your stare, eyes wide, and begin to kick harder at the door.

Bang.

The second light follows, illuminating the ground with a musky yellow. That figure in the distance grows closer and closer.

You can hear his feet pounding against the floor.

Bang.

Just as the third light shines down, the door shatters out, and a scream crawls up from your throat.

Miguel lunges at you, fangs bared, tackling you to the ground.

Heavy hands wrap around your throat, crumpling your shrieks to mere cries as the pair of you topple.

You’re cursing, kicking, flailing as much as you could, pummelling at his chest, arms, anything you can reach.

The larger man has settled himself between your legs, pinning you to the floor.

“C’mon, tú zorra, keep hitting me,” he grunts, goading you with a grin. “Fucking see what happens.”

In the tussle, you manage to punch him hard in his ribs, releasing an audible crack.

Miguel sucks in a breath, cold through the teeth as his brows . His jaw is set, tense and square. Rich brown eyes growing ever darker.

Before you can even think, a fist locked in the tresses of your hair, yanking hard. Pain burns at your scalp as Miguel tugs your head to the side, exposing the flesh of your neck.

A flash of teeth, a shining wink of a blood-tinged fang. Then he bites down.

Hard.

The world blurs for a quick second.

You feel flesh tear, and the smell of hot, wet metal fills the air. Miguel is almost growling against you. Canines shift beneath your skin.

Something, warm and sticky, is dripping down your neck. The room feels so clammy all of a sudden.

Vision softening, everything is a wave of colours and sounds. You can barely slur out your confusion as Miguel’s hands run along the shape of you, ghosting your clothed cunt.

“Y’wanna act like a bitch, huh?” Miguel hisses — you feel fabric tearing, pulling against your skin. Goosebumps decorate your body as you lay half naked on the ground.

“Looks like I’ve gotta remind who fucking owns you.”

Two fingers push against your mouth, and you’re too weak to fight against them. Saliva escapes from the corners of your lips and covers your chin as Miguel’s digits press against your tongue.

He tastes like blood and salt.

Your eyes flutter shut as you moan around his fingers, blinking out tears.

“You pathetic little slut,” Miguel’s huffing out a laugh, grasping your face, thrusting his middle and forefinger back and forth, grinning as you choke.

Miguel feels your fingers careening against the stiff muscle of his forearm creeping along his shoulders to find home in his hair, ready to pull again.

He jolts, moving quick to pin them against the floor with one heavy hand— despite the Rapture flowing through your bloodstream right now, he wasn’t dumb to let you even attempt to get a hold on him.

He tears his fingers from your mouth, slamming his lips to yours, tongue pushing past your teeth.

You couldn’t even find the strength to fight back right now — all you can feel is him. His body on you, hands groping, his mouth melding against yours.

Miguel finds your futile efforts quite cute. But your struggling isn’t helping you at all, and it’s only turning him on.

He’s grinning against your skin, pressing soft kisses against your jaw, down your neck. The sudden switch has you tense, wary, like a deer in headlights.

“Turn over.” The sentence wasn’t a request, but a demand.

One that he wasn’t patient enough to wait for.

Within a second, he’s got you flipped over, face pressed against the cold flood, arms pinned behind your back. Your bare ass sticks up in the air, and Miguel strikes the skin hard.

Choked pleas fall from your lips, but that doesn’t stop him. One, two, three more times you feel the roughness of his palms against your ass.

Your skin is singing in pain, every nerve set aflame at each swat.

“Ngh, God! I’m sorry! ” you squeal out, “I’m sorry!”

Miguel’s jaw is set once more, eyes steely as he stares straight at your glistening cunt.

“Oh, you’re sorry?” he breathes out, each word dripping in ridicule. A rough finger presses against the hot wetness building between your legs, sticky and sweet.

“No, you’re not. Not yet.”

A loud cry escapes you as Miguel plunges his cock, swollen and hard, deep in the sweltering heat of your cunt. Sharp pain throbs within you for a brief second, pulsing between your leg.

Fangs bared, Miguel groans at your grip. “Fucking hell.”

Tears drip down your face, darkening the concrete as each drop falls with every surge of his hips, the fat of your behind smashing against his abdomen.

“Oh, my G-God,” you stutter out sacrilege, nails biting in your palms. “Fuck, Miguel.”

As much as you want to hate this, hate him, you can’t control how your body feels. Your hips appear to have a mind of their own, pushing back in his grip. The tip of his cock kisses your cervix with each move, walls hugging his length with a tightness he’s never felt before.

There’s a sweltering mix of pain and pleasure, sweetness and salt, swirling inside of you as he’s hitting every goddam spot. Right now, you’re in limbo, on edge, just waiting for that one moment to push you into bliss.

And Miguel knows it. He can feel it. Smell it. Taste it, practically.

Yet, he’s seething.

How dare you enjoy yourself after making go to all this trouble? How do you have the fucking gall to find joy in this?

Heavy grunts escaping through his gritted teeth as his stray hand releases abandon your clasped wrists, only to grip at the back of your neck and push your face further into the ground.

“Dumb. Little. Slut,” he spits, emphasising on each word with a further thrust of his cock, drilling faster, harder, in the hot, wet mess of your cunt. “‘Course y’fuckin’ enjoying this. Never known a girl more hungry f’dick than you.”

You could only hiccup out small pleas as the taller man berates you with scorching insults, accompanied with a mocking laugh that melts into a moan.

Miguel wants to last longer - truly, he does. Nothing is more a sight for sore eyes than the pleading, whimpering mess you are.

But the sounds you’re making and the feeling of your walls tightening in on him, pulls him closer and closer to release quick than he intends.

He can’t help himself.

“Take it, hah, you…fuck…mi corazón.”

You whimper, eyes slinking shut as you breathe out a choked, “A-anything for you.”

With those last three brazen words, Miguel gives one final thrust, leaning over you to bite down on the curve of your neck as he comes — you’re both seeing stars.

It feels like you’re melting, from the inside out.

You can barely comprehend anything but these ebbing waves of sweet pleasure humming from between your twitching legs as you come, your plumped lips caught between your teeth so hard, you can taste blood.

Miguel’s rolling his hips in time with yours, panting, whimpering in your ear as he rides out this high for as long as he can, whispering sweet nothings and broken promises against your body.

You can feel this white mess sticking to your thighs, smeared against your abdomen, dripping with small plinks onto the cold concrete.

Miguel presses open-mouthed kisses down your back, running his tongue over the indents his fangs left in your skin.

“Don’t think I’m done with you yet.” A hand returns to the nape of your neck, clutching at your hair.

A familiar wave of dread washes over you.

“Just wait till we get back to the lab.”

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m-ayo-o · 5 months

Text

O U I J A

you meet a demon of lust !

will you survive this deadly game of dares ?

18+ : sexual content starring: 21+ university student Megumi FUSHIGURO x younger [18+] inexperienced afab reader (nerdy, science type) a sweet junior student has a crush on her intimidating senior, but is too shy to act on it :/ you're only pushed closer thanks to a strange encounter with a powerful entity. its demands are scary, but megumi is there to keep u safe cw: i write megumi taller - over 6 ft. groping (demon → reader) violence (demon → megumi) explicit sexual acts: the demon forces you, but consent is established wc: 10k @nobody289x thank u so much for your wonderful megumi thoughts + proofreading + everything, u the best :3

note ⋆˚｡ this was meant to be for 666 follows... thank u !! <3

Upperclassman, third year student Megumi Fushiguro. He studies ancient history, specialising in the emergence of rare cursed techniques in the Meiji Period, with a minor in theology. His tongue is sharp, but his dress sense is sharper.

You've seen him around the university campus- training, with his friends, sometimes helping junior students. But it's safe to say you know a little too much about a man you've never actually spoken to. It's not like you don't want to. He's just so... intimidating. His intelligence is one thing, but the way he glares makes your blood run cold.

Every time you see him, you just freeze up and turn on your heels, presuming he's so far out of your league he wouldn't give you a chance. You know it's pessimistic, but it fuels your nightmares to think about being rejected by him. Even for a simple conversation. You can just imagine his face scrunching up with a disgruntled laugh, looking down at you with those dark, unforgiving eyes, telling you not to waste his time.

Unbeknownst to you, your presumptions were going to be proven wrong.

Given some time, and the terribly flustering coincidence that he started assisting in one of your labs- due to owing your professor a favour?- you get closer.

He approaches you in class, handing out the task notes for the day and checking you have all the right equipment ready. You can't believe how much taller he looks up close.

"Y-yes, I have everything I need. Thank you."

You curse yourself for still being so nervous around him. It's been weeks since he started helping your professor. It seems that they already knew each other, despite working in separate departments.

You're finishing up after a particularly challenging practical assignment when you hear your annoying professor singing your name, reminding you that you're on clean up duty this week.

Ugh.

You groan and sigh, but it doesn't make the mess go away. So you start collecting all the beakers and test tubes, trying to balance them carefully on the way to the sink, when you notice him.

He's at the sink already, his back turned to you, the water running with his sleeves rolled up. You set the equipment down and start helping him. It's quiet- the sounds of clinking glass and splashing water fill the room- and he passes you item after item, your fingers grazing over his while you glance to the side and dry them up.

"Thank you"

After today, you find yourself volunteering to clean up after class very willingly. You've gotten yourselves into a little silent routine; collecting the equipment- he washes, you dry (to save your fingers from getting all shriveled and pruney).

You have to admit that there's a certain kindness about him you hadn't noticed before. It's in his hands- how he holds the glass with such care- and in the softness of his voice. And you finally see him smile after going on an embarrassing ramble about why you're enjoying your course so much and what you'd like to do in the future. You assume he's smiling out of amusement- perhaps he's going to ridicule you.

"I- I'm sorry. That was, uh, too much information."

"Don't apologise. You're just... passionate. It's nice."

He encourages you with yet another small but sure smile, and your heart nearly melts on the spot. The way his features soften is just so endearing.

I was so wrong about him. Nobody with a smile like that could be mean. Or rude. Maybe I should just ask him out? At least he'd turn me down politely.

And you can't believe you're here, with him, starting to open up after his considerate questions- which you return, getting little insights into his mysterious life. You didn't realise he was already working while keeping up his studies, with additional martial arts training, and now assisting in your labs despite being in a different department entirely- his schedule is packed. With every sentence he speaks you seem to respect him a little more, and you slowly realise that he doesn't bite.

He catches you off guard, casually offering to help with your stats course after a one off comment that you were struggling.

So he comes over the same evening, where you awkwardly introduce him to your housemates, then show him to your room, where he sits on your bed.

You dig out your dreaded stats folder and sift through your test papers, showing him the scores and explaining how you were unhappy with them.

"But your grades are still..." he arches an eyebrow, scanning the papers, "above average."

You've been aspiring to get a near perfect score in all of your classes, desperate to attain a first class degree and potentially progress into a research role, and there's something about that inner perfectionist that speaks to him. So he settles in and gets comfortable on your bed, watching you work, then eventually gets out his phone when he realises he's distracting you.

And when you're done he sits on the edge of your bed, getting closer and closer till you're just staring. He helps and corrects you so softly. You keep staring... at his dexterous hands, the way they move and grip the pencil, how his knuckles flex, the way his blue veins show through his pale skin. Then up his muscular arms, studying the masculine angle of his jaw, the feminine curve of his pure black lashes. Then his eyes; you're captivated by the deep, navy colour, their shape- so elegant and sharp. And you wonder if his always clean-shaven face is soft, whether he uses product in his hair... and what it would feel like to run your fingers through it.

"[name]?"

How long have I been staring?

"I've finished marking it now."

Over the weeks of being Megumi's student, you realise that your grade is getting very close to where you want it to be, and you start thinking...

If I get one more paper over 90% he is going to stop tutoring me. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to fabricate some incorrect answers... would it?

So you start making mistakes on purpose. You know it's cowardly and misleading, but you can't stop. At the same time, you can't admit how much you've been enjoying your study sessions- just having him to yourself, getting his attention, his praise.

But when you do something wrong... it makes your heart pound.

He taps a finger on your paper, over the question number, giving you a glare before elaborating.

"Come on, you know this."

You act dumb. He leans over to correct it for you.

"Hang on, let me-"

You can smell his cologne. You can see his collar bones where his shirt dips away.

"Do it like this- yeah, good-"

Good girl.

He wishes he had the guts to say it. He'd love to see your reaction. But he just watches you continue, completing the calculations by yourself.

But after making a few too many mistakes, he starts to cotton on.

"You answered a question nearly identical to this one last week. You did it perfectly."

You fidget about, reorganising your stationary while he flicks through your work.

"See?"

He holds up two of your papers. And he's right- of course he's right. This one was way too obvious. Your eyes shift around the room nervously, looking everywhere but at the papers, until you settle on his eyes.

"You... you're not doing this on purpose, are you? You know that would be wasting my time, right?"

You can't deny it. You don't want to lie to him anymore.

"You are?"

You look down at your lap and nod.

"You're a smart girl. Why didn't you just ask me to stay?"

You can't answer. Your stomach has relocated to your chest and your tongue is tied in knots. It's all twisted up, around words you wish you could say.

I'm afraid you don't feel the same way. I couldn't ask you to stay because I don't want you to leave.

He can see your eyes going wide. He knows he's put you on the spot (rightfully so). But he sets down your papers, nonetheless, giving you a slightly exasperated look.

"We can just hang out, ok? I don't have to come here for a reason."

He puts your papers back on your desk and you pack them away sheepishly, watching him sink to the carpeted floor and lean up against your bed.

"Come on. You wanna watch a scary movie or something?"

He's already seen the posters around your room.

"Sure."

And so started your late night meet ups with Megumi, under no false pretenses of studying, sitting on your bedroom floor with pillows and blankets... then moving up to your bed... then hugging when he leaves. You don't know when that started, but it feels right.

You get comfortable with one another. You invite him in as if he's just another friend.

Yeah, a friend. A friend who makes your heart race. A friend who makes you blush. You have no other 'friend' like him.

You have no other friend who turns to you in the middle of The Ring- when you have to look away from the screen because there is a girl crawling out of the TV- with a smile on his face.

He's getting closer. His lips... are so close.

"This movie is dumb."

You shiver a little, feeling his breath fan you.

I want to kiss her... so bad. Would she let me?

You have no other friend who gets you so hot... just from looking at you.

He sees the hesitation in your eyes so he backs off and you have to cool the situation down a little. You're already bored of the movie, so you have a great idea.

"Can I show you something?"

After finding it in the summer, you've been too scared to investigate the strange artefact by yourself. Maybe he could help you.

"It's under the bed."

"What are you doing," he pulls it out, his eyes scanning over the markings on the dark wood, "with this?"

"I found it-" you shift about on the chair, feeling suddenly uncomfortable under his now intense gaze. You don't know what this object is, but you can sense something dark when you touch it, or even look at it.

"Found it at my parent's... in the basement."

"You know what it is?"

You shake your head.

"It's a Ouija board."

He explains what such things can be used for.

"If you're successful, you could end up contacting a spirit. You want to try?"

Your heart beats a bit faster, feeling excited as you keep asking questions until you're starting to set your room up to attempt to use the board.

With candles lit, lights dimmed and taking your place on the carpet opposite Megumi, you cast your nerves aside and put your hand on the wooden arrow with his.

"So uh, what are we supposed to say?"

"You just have to ask a question."

It can't be that simple.

"But are there any... rules?" You can't help the shakiness of your voice now, while he sits looking at you, raising his eyebrow.

"Too scared?" He scoffs, "Ok, I'll start."

"Are there any spirits," he looks around the room- he knows there's no curses here, at least, "or dead, residing in this building?"

There's a long pause. You watch the candlelight flicker over his pale face, illuminating his dark eyes.

"Any ghosts?"

He keeps asking, while you sit tight, holding your breath.

He looks back at you now, apparently taking amusement in how you're shifting about nervously.

"Demons?"

There's a loud bang from outside that seems coincidental, but no movement on the board.

Still, you both keep your fingers pressed on the arrow.

"Why don't you ask?" He glances down at your smaller hands, "Maybe a spirit would respond to... someone like you."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Someone innocent," he smirks, making your stomach twist up.

"Megumi I-" you're about to defend yourself, but the blush creeping up your cheeks is not helping in the slightest.

So you open your mouth and ask the still, dark room if there's anybody there.

There's a silence that swallows you both up, you feel your mouth go dry, and you look back at the board to see the arrow starting to shake.

Your fingers are dragged over the board, the arrow sliding to mark-

"YES"

You weren't expecting it to actually work.

"Who?" Megumi asks with confidence.

Again, the arrow trembles around. This time, moving to the letters...

L - U - S - T

"A spirit...of lust?" Even he has to admit this is unusual.

You swallow, watching him speak to the entity freely.

"YES"

"Ok, and how did you- die?"

Silence. No movement on the board.

"Do you have any regrets?"

The arrow starts shaking again, this time uncontrollably and without direction. The board starts to quake, lifting off the carpeted floor, and you feel the temperature of the room dropping drastically.

"Megumi, wait- what if it... doesn't want to answer- those questions?"

You seem to have got the gist, as the board starts to settle down.

"Right," Megumi's eyes glance up at yours, "so tell me [name], what should we ask?"

"Ah..." you fidget around for a second, eyes flitting about the board, then to a small flame of a candle as you ponder.

"Is there anything... you enjoyed, while you were alive?"

You hold your breath again, watching the arrow spring to life.

It drags over the board, slowly.

You want to look away, but you just can't.

Shit. Why would you ask a self proclaimed spirit of lust that question?

Megumi clearly notices the embarrassed tint on your cheeks, but doesn't seem dissuaded from the conversation himself.

"Hah, checks out. Who did you fuck?"

His words come out surprisingly crass, making you intake a little breath.

And the spirit didn't seem to like his question either. The room gets a little darker now, colder still, making those terrible goosebumps prickle on your neck.

The board starts tilting around again and the candles flicker violently, then suddenly die out.

"M-Megumi-!"

"Just, hang on- let me flip the board over. We can stop."

He goes to move his hand from the arrow, but it suddenly slides to:

"NO"

"Shit."

Even you know this is bad. You're trapped.

You start to panic, looking between Megumi and the board, trying to decipher what on earth you can do, and you feel something cold on your back.

"A-ah-"

"What is it?"

It travels down your spine and you feel a firm squeeze on your waist.

"Megumi- I, I don't like this- please-!"

"What's happening, tell me?"

You get another grabbing sensation, this time on your ass.

"It's touching me-!"

He can tell you're not lying from the way your voice is shaking.

"Ok, ok," he tries to keep his cool, but internally he's losing it. If this thing hurts you... there will be hell to pay, whether it's dead or not.

"Come here. Just sit in front of me."

You nod and quickly move into the space between his crossed legs with your hands still on the arrow and your back pressed to his chest.

"Don't fucking touch her."

He sounds suddenly aggressive- you can't deny how it makes you feel protected.

"Thank you," you murmur and take one hand off the arrow to brush away a tear you hadn't realised was spilling down your cheek.

"It's ok, just sit still and let me figure out how to finish this."

One of his hands leaves the board to wrap around the front of your shoulders. How he can feel you trembling is worrying him, so he pulls you in closer.

"I'm sorry, I wish I never... found this thing," you sniffle a little as he tries to comfort you.

"It's ok."

His eyes study the room, how everything is becoming still and gloomy and filled with such an electric tension.

"It's not your f-"

His breath is caught in his lungs, feeling a sudden pressure over his mouth.

"MMhh-MM-"

You twist your body back to look, while you both struggle to keep your fingers connected to the arrow- the only rule you knew coming into this that removing your hands could result in severe consequences.

But you feel the situation has escalated enough for you to take the risk, so you pull your hands away and up to his face, your thumb helplessly pressing on his lips to try and open them.

You tug and panic, then suddenly realise he's not breathing through his nose either. His eyes are terribly wide. He looks scared.

"Fuck! Stop it! Stop, just let him go! Please, I'll do anything!"

And with those last words, the spirit lets go and Megumi collapses, gasping and coughing as you lean back to give him some space.

He wipes his mouth on his sleeve and reaches a hand out to yours.

"I don't know what's going to happen next." His skin has never looked paler, his voice never more serious. "Just please don't let go."

So you nod and thread your fingers together, sitting side by side, and return to the board.

You feel a cool drop of sweat running down your spine when you see the arrow moving once more.

A - N - Y - T - H - I - N - G ?

We have to do what it says now.

This thing could really hurt us.

You look at each other and back to the board, glad that you're still alive, and you nod.

T - O - U - C - H

"What?" He responds quickly, hoping to fix this situation as soon as possible.

The arrow swivels on the board, pointing directly at you. You're already holding hands, so you assume the spirit wants a little more from you both.

You bring a hand to your face. You could see this coming- you honestly want him to touch you. Of course you do- how he makes you feel so nervous isn't just down to his damn intellect. He's gorgeous and you can't deny you want his hands on you.

But like this?

You sigh and turn to face him, trying desperately to keep calm so you can work this out.

"W-we don't have to-"

You swear it's the first time you've heard his voice shake like this.

"We could just- burn the board, we just need to, to-"

His head suddenly whips to the side and he lets out a shout.

"Fuck!"

"Oh my god!"

He turns back to face you with a split lip and a little trickle of blood running down his chin.

"It's ok, it's-"

Before he can finish you're already wiping his lip with the sleeve of your dress.

"This is getting serious now..." you murmur and finish cleaning him up, smoothing your hand over his cheek, comforting him whilst hoping to appease the spirit. He pushes into your hand affectionately, much like a cat, which brings a small smile to your face despite the bleak situation.

"Hm," you slide your hand up into his hair, seemingly forgetting about the deadly game you're caught in for a second, "you really don't use product?"

He lets a little breathy laugh escape his nose, looking quite flattered now your hands are stroking his black strands. You both start to sink in and enjoy the moment, until your attention is caught by a rattling noise.

M - O - R - E

He sighs, casting a frown at the board.

He's annoyed that you were interrupted. It makes him realise just how much he's enjoying you touching him. Regardless of the spirit's creepy demands, he really doesn't want you to stop.

"Just- stroke my neck, is that ok?" He suggests with a less confident tone.

"Yeah" you nod and hesitantly bring your hand lower, feeling the fuzzy shorter hair at the back of his head, then make contact with his skin. His neck is elegant, muscular and slim, just how the rest of his body appears. And your thumb starts to trace up and down his throat, feeling the hard peak of his adam's apple, then dips back down near his collar bones.

You feel content for a moment, then you realise Megumi's expression is shifting.

"What is it?" Your voice is soft and low. You don't have to speak loudly now you're sitting so close, face to face.

"My hand-"

He looks down to his left hand that was resting in his lap, which is now twitching and struggling up towards you.

"I'm not, I'm not moving it. I can't- ah, wait, you can't do this!"

He shouts and presses his eyes closed, afraid of where his hand is going to end up.

He makes contact with your warm skin.

"It's okay."

He peeks his eyes open to find his palm resting on your shoulder, where your dress exposes your body.

It did order him to touch you, after all.

"How is this ok?"

He looks a bit upset now, looking down at his lap again. It feels different now he has his hand on you.

"Because..." you're feeling nervous about admitting this, especially right now, but you want to encourage him so you can make it out of this, and it really is true that-

"it's ok because I want you to touch me."

You feel the room warming up again, some of the tension begins to fade and a single candle, out of the five you had placed around the room, flickers back to life.

You can see him clearer now, in the faint, warm glow, and he raises his head to give you a long, deep stare.

You wonder what he's thinking.

"That's... good," he looks endlessly relieved, with a hint of a smile returning to his lips, "because I want to touch you too."

So with your permission, he starts moving his thumb, just rubbing gently. You've started to truly realise your difference in size now he's touching you... his hand covers your whole shoulder.

He pushes your dress down a fraction, touching the top of your arm, then back up, tracing over your collar bones, over the dip below your neck and up your throat.

Everything about her is just so delicate.

He hesitates for a second, his eyes flicking up and down your face, and his thumb finds your chin. He strokes your jaw, up to your cheek, then rubs a circle over your lower lip.

You have a sudden urge to pucker your lips into a little kiss, but he moves away, taking your chin between his index and thumb.

"Your fingers are..." your gaze flits down to his hand, then up to his eyes again, "so long."

The comment was meant to be innocent, but the way he raises his eyebrows at you, looking down at your lips, is getting you notably flustered.

You shake your head and he laughs, then smooths his hand over your jaw to take a slightly firmer grip, and looks you right in the eyes.

"You really are sweet."

He can tell his compliment stunned you- you try to look away, but he moves his hand to the back of your neck where he holds you tighter. He wants to make you look like this all the time.

"And pretty."

He pulls you in gently, bringing you to kneel right in front of his crossed legs.

You swear he's inching closer, starting to tilt his head to the side when you hear a sudden tap tap tap and you remember you're not alone.

You give each other a little hesitant look, as if you didn't want to stop, then turn to face the board again to see the spirit's next letters.

U - N - D - R - E - S - S

Shit- Megumi's going to lose it in a second- couldn't we kiss first?

Regardless, the demon is demanding it in this order. So you nod and give him that wide eyed look that could bring him to his knees.

Before he realises what's happening your fingers are already pulling up the hem of your dress.

"W-we should hurry."

He hears the fear in your voice. He wants to make it go away.

So he quickly strips off his shirt and watches you pull the black material of your dress over your head, exposing the cutest underwear he's ever seen. And your body... he tries so desperately to look away to give you some privacy, but it would be a shame to look anywhere else.

He lets a long breath escape his mouth, trying to cool himself down.

"You look like an angel."

Fuck- so stupid!

To his relief, you giggle and edge closer to him with a little shiver.

"I'm... cold."

"Here," he shuffles back to find the side of your bed, propping himself up against it and sitting with his legs spread, "wanna sit on me again?"

But the way he looks now, with all his muscles exposed, the soft lighting illuminating each dip and ridge, is making you feel nervous all over again.

"Come on, let's stay warm, ok?"

You nod and climb into his welcoming embrace, perching on his thigh that you hope won't go dead anytime soon, while his arms circle round your body.

Needless to say, with your bodies pressing together like this, you're both getting pretty flustered.

"I'm sorry," you hear him mumble, where his lips are pressed into your hair, "I shouldn't have touched the damn board. This is all my fault."

You personally don't feel too sorry now you're in his arms, but you return the sentiment and push your head under his neck.

The spirit lets you sit quietly for a minute, then brings the board to life with its next instruction.

K - I - S - S

You feel Megumi fidget a bit, then he takes one of your small hands in his.

"Ok," you look up to see him give you a smile, then he presses the softest, most sensual kisses over your fingers, kissing each one individually. He closes his eyes, bringing his lips to your knuckles, then the back of your hand. Although the bleeding has stopped from the hit he took earlier, his lower lip is coming up in a puffy bruise.

"Ah-" you let out a sigh, totally by accident. You've never experienced anything so... romantic. But in reality, you thought he'd be like this.

"Megumi, are you starting to like this game?"

"It's... ok," he returns a flirty expression, his dark lashes dipping when he makes direct eye contact, "I'm just glad, I'm playing it with you."

The board interrupts you again, demanding your attention as it swivels to face you on its own accord, ensuring you can still read its message.

L - I - P - S

"Oh" you let out a little noise, biting your lip a little too late.

"Did you like that suggestion?"

His voice makes you nervous, but the way he touches you calms you again.

There is no rush in his movements. He's not forcing you. He caresses your jaw then takes your chin between his index and thumb, tilting your face up to his.

I can't believe I have to kiss her with this damn split on my lip.

"I'm sorry... about this."

"It's okay."

Let me... kiss it better.

The kiss is soft and slow- he focuses on your lower lip first, then your upper, giving you the most gentle pecks.

He pulls away, sucking gently.

You look stunned, and so pretty, as if he's just put a spell on you.

"Was that," his hand moves to cup your cheek, "ok?"

"It was... nice," you nod and look into his mysterious eyes, wondering what he's going to say next. Perhaps he's thought of a plan for you to exit the game and ditch this creepy spirit.

But it seems that his rational, logical mind is getting sidetracked.

"You want some more?"

"Uh," you dip your head a little, feeling a sudden blush cover your cheeks, "yes."

"Up here then, pretty girl," he tilts your chin and claims your lips again.

This time he takes you for longer, holding your hands. His fingers thread with yours and he pulls you round to face him, so your legs are spread over his body. He still kisses you softly, starting to cautiously suck at your lower lip, leaving the faint coppery taste of blood lingering there.

He feels how you're reacting to him, letting go of his hands to touch his hair again, where you stroke and tousle and push closer, till your chest is flush with his.

And now he can feel your warmth, and the way your thighs are spreading wider over him, he starts opening his mouth.

"Ngh-"

A little vocalisation spills from his throat. He suckles at your lip more fervently, guiding you to mimic his movements as you part your lips, following his lead.

As soon as you reciprocate, you feel his hands on your body, gently holding your waist. He tilts his head further up to you and strokes your bottom lip with his tongue.

"Ah-"

You let out a quiet sigh into his mouth, getting a feeling of relief and arousal when your tongues slip over each other.

You settle into the intimate, pleasurable feeling of his tongue sliding in your mouth and it suddenly dawns on you that you're french kissing Megumi Fushiguro. You feel your heart jumping in your chest- you almost jump and open your eyes. But his hands, one rubbing gentle circles near your hip, the other slipping up your spine to find the back of your neck, ease your nerves.

Now you find a rhythm of sucking and tonguing each other, your hips start moving on their own. It feels so natural.

But you're feeling quite embarrassed about the damp patch that's pooling between your legs. You just keep kissing him and hope that he can't feel you leaking over him through the thin material of your thong.

He gives your lip a particularly hard suck, making you whimper almost inaudibly before he pulls away.

His dark eyes shift over your body for a moment, taking you in, wearing that cute bra and those panties that, to be honest, may as well not be there.

He returns his gaze to your eyes. It makes you shiver when he breathes over your lips, "Can I touch you?"

You give him an easy nod. Thanks to him, you're so relaxed now, perching on his lap like a doll. So he runs his fingers from your waist right to the centre of your panties.

He starts rubbing you through the material, in circles to start with, then up and down and pushing in very gently, until you just can't take it and you have to bring your lips to his once again.

You feel him smile, kissing you back with his fingers dipping past the material to smear your silky juices over your clit.

"Wet," he slides up and down, "oh you're really wet."

He sounds excited. He wants to feel more.

"Fuck- let me finger you, please?"

This is going well outside the scope of the game you're ensnared in, but neither of you could really care. As long as you're safe and following the natural cadence of each other's bodies.

"Mhm," you nod and squeeze his shoulders tighter, feeling his fingertips start to spread you.

"Can I… go inside?"

He stares at your lips, then your eyes.

"Yes- yess,"

"Wanna make you feel good."

He mutters and sinks two fingers in, up to the first joint, getting his hand in your panties. He pauses there and slots in and out, watching a dizzy look appear on your face while you feel the soft pads of his fingers teasing you open.

"That's tight-" he tries desperately to push out thoughts of how you'd feel around his dick.

He pushes in some more, slowly working you open, while your head starts to dip down and you press little kisses on his neck.

"No, no," his other hand tugs at the back of your hair gently, "look at me while I'm fingering you, ok?"

"Ngh huh"

"Good," he presses another kiss to your lips, "good girl."

With your eyes starting to get all hazy and filled with lust, he can tell you're loving this so much, so he takes you up to his knuckles and you moan.

It's loud, and now he can hear you, he knows you're gonna make him crazy tonight.

But he's so gentle with you, for now, and he starts fucking you slow with his middle and ring fingers.

He sinks in and out with deep, long strokes, curling his fingers right inside you, suddenly reaching that sensitive spot you can barely touch by yourself.

"Nhh- ah~!"

"Oh, is this it- right here?"

His voice has gone deep and husky now, with his lips brushing yours as he speaks.

"Mmmm- mhm-"

You nod and watch that pretty smirk form on his lips again.

"You want me to touch you there some more?"

"Y-yea, yes-" you nod and he kisses you again, so delicately compared to his lewd movements in your core.

"So you won't mind…" he strokes that spot again, keeping his fingers pressed there firmly, "if I do this?"

He pushes harder, forcing a whimper from your lips.

"N-no," you shake your head.

"No, you don't mind? Or no, you don't want me to?"

"I- I don't mind-"

He's so pleased with your reactions that he treats you to that deep and skilled finger fucking until you're getting so wet that the most embarrassing squelching noises start leaving your pussy.

You try to bury your face in his chest while you cling onto his shoulders, but he can't stand that for a second.

"Ah ah," he nudges your head up again, connecting your lips once more, "what're you being so shy for, hm?"

"The- the sound…" it makes you cringe so bad.

"Hm, you're funny, sounds hot to me…"

He gives you a deeper kiss now, sliding his tongue in with his fingers slipping through you, his thumb starting to circle your clit.

"You know I'm just as turned on as you, right?"

He asks, pushing his hips up into you so you can feel the length of his cock.

"Oh- oh my god" you're shocked to feel how hard he is. How big he is.

"So don't be shy, ok?"

"Uh- uh huh" you manage weakly, and let him finger you how he likes it; with your eyes on him, his lips on yours, and your juice all over his hand.

You're barely cognizant of anything else happening around you at this point, as he has captured your full and undivided attention. But you notice the room getting warmer- the nasty biting chill is fading.

You take a little look to the side, noticing another candle has been relit. It feels so sensual and calm now with the soft light. And as your pretty head tilts like that, you feel Megumi leaning in and pressing his lips to your neck.

"You shouldn't have done that," he mutters against your skin. He's not sure how much longer he can keep this up, being so soft with you- especially when you present him with the slim muscles of your neck so willingly.

The angles and dips in your skin look ethereally beautiful, and as a man who loves to explore pleasure with his mouth as well as his hands, he can't help but kiss you there.

In this new, soft spot he has found on your throat, he starts tonguing and sucking. It starts off as gentle kissing, but when he starts going harder he has to tell himself;

Slow down, Megumi. Slow down. I can't stop, I can't stop it-

"Please let me," he rushes to get his words out, whispered against your skin, "let me mark you."

Nobody has ever put it quite like that before. The way he sounds is doing something terrible to you, something that you can't control.

"You mean-hh- a love bite?"

"Mhmm" he hums lowly and closes his eyes. You can feel his long lashes kissing your skin.

You never knew this game would take this kind of a turn. You've never experienced anything so sensual.

"Ye-ah, you can, mm"

"Mmmh" he groans and you immediately feel his teeth.

"Ah, ah!"

You're shocked by the sharp sting of his canines, but the pleasure that comes along with it, especially with his fingers knuckle deep in you, is overwhelming.

"Too much?"

"No, no- more, please-"

"Hmm" he hums and closes his eyes, letting the feelings take over.

The feeling of your soft and supple skin when he sucks and bites, knowing he's going to leave a beautiful red mark that will eventually fade to purple, and knowing you're hurting in the most incredible way... hearing those noises from your throat- whimpers that tell him you're loving this as much as he is- it makes him want to swallow you whole.

I want to cover her neck. I want to lick and bite her till she tells me it's enough. Even then... could I stop? Fuck, I want to taste her.

He grapples his body under control, slowing his motions, as you both notice the room is getting hot.

He pops his lips from your neck and you look around, seeing more candles are lit. It seems the spirit may be quite pleased now.

But in all honesty, the game may as well be non-existent at this point, with the way you're both getting so carried away.

Carried away with each other.

He kisses your lips again, pecking gently and sliding his soaked fingers out to work over the little bud of your clit, and he suddenly gets a tugging sensation on his leg.

"Hm?" what now.

He pulls away to squint at the board, peering around your body.

He reads it aloud for you.

"L, i, c, k."

You giggle at the embarrassed look on his face.

"Where?" He rolls his eyes and asks.

"P, u, s, s- okay I think you get it-"

The heat on your cheeks is unbearable, especially when Megumi opens his mouth to say his next words.

"I was going to anyway... if you wanted me to."

You trade places and he passes you a pillow, so you can sit comfortably against the bed while he gets on his knees. He helps you slip your bra off, telling you how beautiful you are while sinking down... lower.

"Can I touch your legs?"

"Mhm," you nod, watching him instantly bring his hands to your ankles. He pushes all the way up to your thighs, feeling their soft roundness in his firm grip.

"Mm-" you can't help the little noises that leave your throat when he squeezes you so tightly.

So he does it again, working his way up, till he finds the hem of your saturated panties, giving them a little tug.

You start helping him to push them down before he has a chance to open his mouth again, and you watch his eyes light up when he sees you... completely naked. He tosses your thong over his shoulder and returns his lazy stare to the puffy folds of your pussy.

He takes his thumb to your middle, slowly spreading you as his mouth starts to hang ajar.

"Megumi..." you look down at where he's touching you, "it's not just about the game. I-" you hesitate and bite your lip.

He drags his eyes up to focus on yours once more.

"I actually... want this. I want you."

He sighs with a relieved smile, his thumb still tracing through you.

"I know," of course, the way you’ve been reacting has told him nothing less. But it's so reassuring to hear it out loud, not to mention the way your sweet words stroke his ego.

"I want you too, don't worry."

You let out a sigh, feeling a little more relaxed, then feel his thumb trace over the raised bud of your clit.

"Ah-Megumi-"

"You don't have to say anything- just, know that this isn't a game for me."

You shake your head urgently.

"Me either, really- ahh~"

You sink back on the pillow now, easing into the pleasure of his gentle tapping, followed by swirling and circling. You have to admit, most guys around your age (university students) have been no less than underwhelming when it comes to... pleasure giving. Clueless, even.

You know he's a couple of years older, but surely he's racked up some serious experience to get this good.

"H-how many people... have you slept with?"

Your sudden question takes him off guard.

"Not as many as you'd think," he replies with a subtle but cocky smirk, "now relax."

He sinks down further, kneeling in between your legs almost like he's worshipping you, and connects his soft lips to your folds. He teases your labia expertly- you've never even thought to touch yourself there. Then his wet tongue slides up and down, through you, every movement so slow and sensual while he keeps his eyes on you to make sure you're okay.

And you are. He sees your eyes pop open with shock and sheer pleasure when he sucks on your clit and he nearly lets out a laugh. Meanwhile, you're coming to the realisation that you aren't going to last very long at all.

How cute. Nobody's done this to her before.

And he's thrilled that he's the first to twist his tongue around your clit and work you up so close that your thighs start trembling in his hands. But he stops and slides his tongue down and up, teasingly slow. You're obviously confused at what he's doing.

You can't tell if he's doing it on purpose or not- as if he'd suddenly forget how to eat pussy- and he's finding it all very amusing.

Oh, this is too good. She's never been edged before. Wonder if she's even done it to herself.

So he has his fun with your clit for a while, until you get so pink in the face with impatience that he just lets off a little chuckle.

"Fuck- you're so cute."

She has no fucking idea what she's doing to me right now. She's so sensitive, I need to go easy on her. But I can't... I need to taste her, I need to stick my tongue inside her so badly.

The blood has flooded away from his brain so quickly he can barely think, making his dick swell so full it almost hurts. He can't ignore his urges for a second longer so plunges his tongue into you suddenly making you gasp, your hands balling into tight fists.

He notices you going rigid with the intensity of his tonguing.

"Relax. If you want to grab onto something, put your hands in my hair."

He takes one hand away from your leg and reaches for one of your tight fists.

"Come here," he opens your hand up and threads your fingers into his hair, and you sigh at the contact. It feels good. You bring your other hand up to his head and you can't help but start tugging. He encourages you with soft groans and before you know it you're grabbing harshly at his strands, letting off that pent up arousal from how good he's tongue fucking you, and it's distracting you so much that you forget to hold back your moans so much. And when he hears you, god, now you've got it coming.

He tongues you deep and hard, suddenly pulls out and swipes your clit- and his favourite part, watching your first ever orgasm through receiving oral- you whimper embarrassingly loud and he sucks every ounce of pleasure from your core.

Oh god, look at her. I'm so fucking lucky.

You're breathing hard and bringing a hand to your flushed face, watching him pull away slowly, licking his lips and looking like he wants to do it all over again.

How embarrassing!? I came so quick.

"Did you-?" he knows, but he wants to hear you say it.

"Yes-" you give him a little glare and bite your lip.

"Fuck-" she really wants this.

"You just- you were touching me... for ages" you whine, making him chuckle and sit up on his knees.

"Ok, ok, I didn't say anything!" He laughs at you, making your face turn a new shade of red when you hear such a beautiful sound, until you're interrupted by the board tapping again.

It seems less urgent now, less pressing, as if it's not going to snap and hurt you at any moment.

But its next instruction leaves Megumi reeling. You see him scowl at the board, his black eyebrows furrowing before bringing a hand to his face.

"What is it?"

You peer over at the board. It seems to repeat itself for your eyes.

S - U - C - K

You let out a little nervous laugh, but you have a plan.

"Just- come here," you murmur- he seems embarrassed now.

You want to use Megumi's technique from earlier- how he kissed your hand rather than your lips.

"Give me your... fingers."

Your voice is quiet, but he hears you and brings his hand to yours, where you pull him closer in between your legs, till his knees are either side of your waist and he's nearly sitting on your lap.

It's just to buy you some time, really, before the spirit inevitably interrupts you again. And he seems pleased with your idea, watching you give his fingers a few gentle kisses before taking them inside your mouth.

He holds back a groan, feeling you start to suck, licking with your warm tongue and sliding your pretty lips over him. Your movements aren't meant to be overly sexual. You're just moving in the same way you were earlier, when you were making out. You close your eyes now and let out a little hum.

He wants you to obey the demon. He really does.

But now he's on the receiving end, he understands how you've felt... with such commands, telling him to touch you and pleasure you.

It's different now.

You see that look of concern build on his face. He looks so conflicted.

"Mm," you pop his fingers out, "Megumi- don't look so worried. The same goes for you."

He bites his lip with quite a pitiful look.

I can't force her to do this. I'd rather take another beating from that spirit.

"I want to," you mutter, turning his hand over to study his palm, while kissing and licking the pads of his fingers so cutely. Your shyness is fading away and you're feeling more comfortable- from how he treated you, and now seeing his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose light up the prettiest shade of pink.

"I want to..."

You don't want the spirit to interrupt you again, but you swear you've never said anything so dirty.

"suck you off."

"Uh-"

The sound from Megumi's mouth was half... hesitation, half something else.

He knows it was arousal.

His eyes flit about the room, noticing another candle relight itself.

"I-, uh..."

I want you, too.

I want your lips.

I want your mouth.

I want your tongue.

"Please let me?"

You've never done this before.

Your heart is pounding, but you'd do anything to make him feel more at ease right now... more comfortable with this situation.

"Y-yeah, um, do you want-"

Why am I so fucking nervous? Shit. When was the last time I felt like this? She's too beautiful to be doing something like this...

"Sit here." You tap the edge of your mattress, and he gets up to perch there, with you kneeling under him.

"You- yea- uhh- ok, ok-"

Your hands pressing his thighs open are a sure sign. He's starting to accept it now- starting to realise how much you want this.

"There's no rush- ok," one of his hands wraps around your wrist, before he starts to unzip his black jeans. The strain on his cock is slowly released- it's been pressing so uncomfortably since the second he had his hands on you. He reaches the button and pops it open, with you tugging eagerly at his belt loops.

"Ok, just-" he sits up and lets you get his jeans past his ass.

Now you can see the dark, wet stain on his black boxers. And how fucking tight they are.

"Megumi, you're-"

So hard.

So big.

"How-"

is he going to fit in my mouth?

You were feeling so confident...

He sees your wide eyes and takes one hand to palm the back of your neck. It's so obvious to him now.

She's never done this before.

"It's ok- just take it slow."

He moves his hand to cup your jaw, where his thumb presses over your lip.

"I'm very patient."

I can pretend to be patient. For her.

You edge closer, tentatively pressing your lips to the hard swell in his shorts.

He's so warm here. It feels wet.

You tug at his waistband now.

She looks so pretty.

He allows you to pull down his shorts…and close your lips over-

"Mm-"

I want to fuck her mouth.

I want to fuck her throat.

I want to cum on her lips.

"That's it-"

Am I doing it right?

Can he feel my teeth?

I want to make him feel good.

His expression tells you that it doesn't feel bad at least. So you keep going, now experimenting with your tongue- you slide it over his swollen pink tip, up and down the middle.

Then you feel his hand on the back of your neck, gently pulling you closer.

"Yeah, j-just open- oh-"

The fat swell of his tip is fully in your mouth now, and your lips are being guided further down.

"Good- so good-"

Now suck, suck it, just like you did with my fingers, please.

"Mmh– fuck!"

You have no idea what you're doing, so you keep looking up at him for reassurance.

He nods stiffly with his lips pressed shut, his hands now balled into tight fists around your sheets in a desperate attempt to tame himself and those strong urges...

I want to grab her neck.

I want her to choke on me.

I can't do it. Not to her.

He keeps his hips still and lets you do it at your own pace.

You bob your head up and down slowly, hearing him let out little sighs.

"Mm, keep- keep doing that-"

"Mhm-"

If she looks at me like that one more time I'm going to cum.

He brushes a stray hair out of your face, looking at your wide eyes... and even wider mouth, spread so beautifully over his dick.

"C-can you use your tongue for me?"

"Nng-"

You push your tongue along the underside of his shaft, sucking and licking and getting him all wet with your saliva.

"Th-that's it-"

She's gonna make me cum like this. I can't cum in her pretty mouth… not over her lips… or her face.

"F-fuck–"

He tries to push out those terrible thoughts… of your body covered in marks, with his cum dripping down your chin. However hesitant he was about this, now you're doing it he never wants it to end. But he has to- he can't do it. Not like this.

"Sstop- stop!!"

"Ngh- sorry- d-did it feel bad??"

"N-no- I was about to…"

"You don't want to-?"

"No! Well, yes, but just… not in your… mouth."

Fuck. He can tell his cheeks are bright red.

"Then where…?"

She's so innocent. Does she know what she sounds like? Can she hear her own voice like I can?

He looks you up and down, then starts to stand up, kicking off his pants and shorts completely. Sinking down to his knees, he gets up close and ushers you back, crawling forward and pressing you down onto the carpet.

Your back hits the wooden board and you nudge it out of the wayso you can lie flat, surrounded by the candles you lit earlier. Megumi lifts the board and places it outside the soft ring of light.

Turning back to you, he gets on top of your body, with your legs surrounding his waist.

"I want to have sex with you."

"It- it's ok- the board didn't t– mmff–"

He kisses you hard.

"The spirit is gone."

You can feel it now. The heavy tension in the air has cleared and it doesn't feel like there's anyone watching you anymore.

"It's just me and you."

You let a nervous breath pass your lips.

If it's gone, wouldn't he want to stop now?

But without the spirit, everything feels warmer- his body feels warm over yours, and there's an incredible intimacy that surrounds you both.

You've been touching each other all evening, but this is different. Now your bodies are both completely bare, and you're alone, you're feeling more nervous than ever. Your hands lay at your sides, feeling the fibres of the carpet as your palms get clammy and hot. Your mouth feels dry and you don't know where to look. His body just gets your stomach in knots and his eyes… there's such an intense look there, as if he can see your thoughts.

At least, he can tell you're nervous.

"You don't get it, do you?"

It's almost as if he's scolding you. You keep your mouth shut, eyes wide and on his, looking confused but terribly pretty.

"It's not about the game. I want you…"

How are you supposed to tell him this is your first time??

"Megumi– I, I–"

I want you too.

I want to have sex with you.

"I've never done this before!!"

"It's okay, don't be scared. I can be gentle, if you want."

It's kind of mortifying that he's comforting you like this, but he's enjoying it a little too much.

I don't mind that you're a virgin. I want to show you what it's supposed to feel like.

"You should do it... how you like it."

You're embarrassed to say stuff like this but you really don't want him to be disappointed. It's not as if you have any clue what you're doing, so you'd prefer if he took the lead.

Oh, no. There's no chance you're getting it my way.

He can't stop the thoughts of your slender wrists bound behind your back with your ass slapped pink.

No, no, no.

He shakes his head and lets out a breathy laugh.

"You have no idea what you're asking for, do you?"

"No but- I, I just want you... to feel good."

He starts to open his mouth again, but you seal his lips with a kiss so sweet and tender it makes his heart melt.

"I'll take it slow, I promise, just tell me if it's too much okay?"

"Yeah"

Your lips are kiss swollen, parted and trembling, tears threatening to spill from your glassy eyes, but you draw in a deep breath and...

"Give me your hand, yeah hold me here. Is that good?"

...he's inside you.

Why can't I say anything?

Your mind has gone blank… the words are all gone.

"Are you okay?"

"Ye-ah–"

It's not just words you're struggling for.

It's your breath.

Now, little moans are choking up and you take your hand that's been clasping tightly at the back of his neck since the moment he sunk into you and you press it across your mouth.

It's so embarrassing. Why am I making these sounds?

But they're being pushed out. You can't help it. With every one of his slow yet firm thrusts you feel your back arching off the carpet and your throat getting tighter. The heat rising in your abdomen is creating such an intense pressure you're sure you're going to explode any second.

"Don't be shy," his cool fingers wrap around your wrist and he tugs gently, "please."

"Hah-ah-" your mouth is uncovered but you wish it wasn't.

A new pink flush floods your cheeks and you go to bury your head in his neck, but he doesn't let you.

"No, let me see you."

He stares into your irises intently. You blink back at him and try to focus on what to say. You have to say something… anything.

"W-hy am I…?" you make a weak gesture, just a glance, and he knows you're feeling conscious about the sounds you're making.

"It's natural, I promise."

"But– mm– I can't control it– isn't that… weird?"

I could make you moan louder if I wanted.

He looks you up and down, biting his lip. You wonder what he's thinking.

"No, it's totally normal for girls to… moan-" he gives your lips a look of seduction that could make you faint, then your eyes get the same treatment, "during sex with me, anyway."

He keeps going and pins your hands above your head, interlocking his fingers with yours, making sure you don't try to cover your mouth or restrict yourself in any way.

He wants to see you. He wants to hear you. He wants all of you.

"Ngh- w-ait–"

He's getting deeper… bigger?

Your head hits the carpet and he dives for your neck.

"Fuck– you're so pretty here."

He kisses you tenderly, but his movements are getting… harsh. The way he's grinding into your core is making you feel weak. Your mouth hangs open now– you need to fucking breathe.

You let out a few more whimpers– he feels the vibrations through your throat and he nearly loses his mind.

"Feels good, doesn't it?"

"Uh– uh huh"

The feeling is… unmistakable. You've never done this before, but you know what's coming. You trap your lip between your teeth and your eyebrows screw up, as if you're in pain, but what you're feeling is so far from that...

"Does it hurt?"

No, no, no, I'm just about to–

"Nnhh– it– it's–"

Too hard.

Too much...

Too late-

"Fuck– oh fuck–" you watch his eyes lose focus on yours, for the first time.

"You're fucking squeezing me– sso– tight–" he groans- it's such a deep and full sound, right from his chest.

Your body hums and you let him take you through it. He keeps thrusting, controlling the flow of your pleasure, until he has to slow himself down. He's so thankful he has self discipline on his side, or he's pretty sure you'd be getting pregnant tonight.

"Gonna– fuuuckk…"

He slips his dick out when you're done and presses down hard against your stomach, where he rubs himself and spurts hot, white cum up your body.

He came so much… all he can do is moan and move his body slower and slower, sliding his tip through the liquid on your stomach. His moaning soon turns into soft giggles– you join him, in the ecstatic post high of love making– and he presses his now flushed face into your neck.

"S-sorry I made such a mess…" he half whispers.

He finally lets go of your hands and sits up, allowing you to catch your breath and come down for a moment, before he helps you up and gets you all clean. Luckily, there's a bathroom right next to your room, so he runs the water hot and fills the tub.

"Is it warm enough? Good, let me help."

No, he doesn't do this with everyone he's slept with. Why is he doing it with you? He doesn’t know. Why is he climbing in the bath with you and caressing the marks on your body like he didn't just put them there himself? He doesn't have the answers, but he does know he's staying with you all night. And in the morning he'll walk you to campus. He won't forget anything that happened with you last night. He'll remember every detail and they'll play through his head all day– he'll recall them so vividly that the tips of his ears will be constantly pink throughout the day. His friends will comment that he looks particularly distant, but he'll deny it and hope they don't notice how he's totally smitten, daydreaming of you.

He manages to keep up this weak act until he sees you again. That's when all his senses just fly away and he wants to hold you in the middle of your lab. He wants to unbutton that oversized white coat and just strip it off you– he's almost annoyed that he can't see your figure, as if he's entitled to it.

But that would probably make his situation worse. It would only make that yearning, soft feeling in his chest grow– and it does. With the days and months passing, he only chases it… chases you. Until he can't take it anymore and only wants to be by your side, suddenly but assertively asking you to be his. And the way you look at him makes him panic for a few seconds– you're just so shocked. Perhaps he was too urgent? Too forceful?

His words kind of came out a little aggressive. Perhaps a little desperate. But he couldn't help it.

And the way your body is pinned under his on your bed with your pupils blown wide and your mouth gasping makes him want to do terrible things to you. But not without this. Not without you agreeing.

"Yes…"

You don't know what it entails "to be his" but you get the feeling he means… he wants you to be his girlfriend.

Megumi Fushiguro's girlfriend? Now, that doesn't sound too bad.

tysm for reading, lmk if u like longer stuff like this, i hope to write more :p

megumi | m.list

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #female reader #megumi fushiguro #18+ content #megumi x reader #666.event #ouija 666 #666 followers #megumi imagine #megumi fic #jjk fic #jjk fanfic #megumi fanfic #megumi <3

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yuugen-benni · 6 months

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''...Excuse me ?''

Prompt: Getting hit on in front of your lover Fandom: Bungou Stray dogs and Genshin Impact Characters: Ayatsuji Yukito, Fyodor, Dazai - Freminet, Wanderer, Dehya Gn!Reader (They/them)

Ayatsuji Yukito: I feel sorry for anyone who likes jealous boyfriends because Ayatsuji is not one. While a random man is hitting on you, he will literally be standing next to you, as if testing to see if the man will realize that he is your lover. But this obviously failed. Ayatsuji is now staring at the man, raising an eyebrow and you can tell he is mentally cursing the man in a clever way. If the person gets too close, or does something that makes you even more uncomfortable, he pokes the tip, still hot, of the kiseru pipe on their forehead and push them back.

''How long will I have to listen to this ?...*sigh*... Sir, use your last remaining neuron to realize that: they're with me''

Fyodor: He laughs…HE LAUGHS. Fyodor is surprised, that you got hit? Maybe, but he's actually surprised by the man's boldness. I mean...he is scary, he exudes death so if someone is by his side it is either his partner in crime or maybe his lover.

When the ''conversation'' becomes more suggestive, he decides not to watch the show anymore and literally just take you out of there.

''It was really fun to watch, but now leave my lover alone if you don't want your heart to stop beating''

Dazai: He's a son of a b!tch, but a lovable one. Dazai will act like he's just a friend and started telling the guy about you (or rather, lie about you to protect your privacy) pretending to help the guy hit on you. Yes, he's just taking advantage of the situation; BUT YES, Dazai is also protecting you so don't be mad at him. At the end of all this performance, he will play his final card: ''They're great people, aren't they? Having them as a lover must be wonderful and guess what? They are my partner!''

Freminet: Poor thing, he doesn't know what to do! Does he explain?, Does he just push the guy?, Does he grab your hand and run away??? I believe the last option is more effective. Freminet isn't even used to talking to strangers, let alone someone hitting on his lover. But he tries, he tries hard. And when the guy becomes more invasive, he acts on impulse and pushes you to his side.

''...O-okay, I'm sorry but- you're being extremely disrespectful with my partner''

Wanderer/Scaramouche: This little man here is trying not to beat the ass of the person who is hitting on you. He's holding on so tight that his fists are white. But, as always, Wanderer pretends he's not jealous and then lets you handle the situation… before he does something he shouldn't-- but if the person is very insistent on ''having your heart'' he will definitely do something he shouldn't. He will use words… bad, horrible words or even opt for physical aggression... well you at least are safe now.

Dehya: This is a somewhat unlikely event because once you are under her gaze, nothing bad will happen to you. But, maybe, at some point when you two are shopping, and you end up distancing yourself a little, it can happen. She's prepared… a little too much, but she won't hesitate to confront the guy/girl who has started to make you uncomfortable. At this point, she won't even care if she's being overprotective or not, as long as you're okay.

''Are you blind or something? Can't you see that they're not interested ?''

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pixiedust0604 · 5 months

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Miss You Already-

Clarisse x fem!reader

Info: Reader is in Aphrodite Cabin. Set in The Sea of Monsters. This is my first fanfic on here, so some constructive criticism would be very appreciated!

Context: Clarisse is about to go into the Sea of Monsters to get the Golden Fleece, but something (or someone) gets in her way

Reader's POV

Warnings: Angst but is resolved in the end

Word Count: 1381 words

Clarisse was livid.

Not that this should be a surprise. Clarisse was known for her temper in Camp, so it was of no big shock that she was upset. 'Probably the nerves of going on a quest for the first time' her siblings thought.

They were very wrong.

You see, Clarisse had a lucky shirt and bandana she wore when she did things like this. Any competition she went to, any test she did she always wore her lucky CHB shirt and bright red bandana.

She set them out that night, before she went to bed. She knows she did. But when she went to get dressed this morning, they were gone.

Now she's in a worse mood that usual, and I was terrified.

I could here the noise she was making from the dining pavilion.

I took the shirt and bandana last night, but I didn't know that they were her lucky ones. I just wanted something to remind me of her while she went away. It's not like I knew how important they were.

Okay, I didn't know the bandana was important, but in my defence, it's scary thinking about the fact that my girlfriend might not come home after this quest. I know I'll miss her, so I wanted to wear both the t-shirt and the bandana while she was gone, so it felt like she was right there next to me, and that the luck would bring her home to me safely.

I was just about to sneak back off to my cabin after breakfast so Clarisse wouldn't catch me, when I bumped into her immediately.

*Great, I'm dead aren't I* I think to myself as I see her almost glaring at me.

"Hi Y/N, you haven't seen my lucky bandana and camp t-shirt, have you?" She said, even though we both knew that I have them both.

"No, can't say I have honey, good luck on your quest though! Goodbye, love you!" I say, before quickly trying to running off.

Keyword, trying to. Unfortunately, Clarisse caught me by the arm before I could run off.

"Not so fast, love. You need to help me find them. Do you mind me looking in your cabin first?" She asked, grinning at me.

"I mean, I'd love to help, but I'm very busy right now." I say quickly, hoping that it'll work and she'll let me go.

It didn't work. Of course it didn't.

"Please, love? It'll only take 2 minutes." She said, feigning being upset.

I sighed, and said, "Fine, but you'll have to be quick, I don't think you have that much time, Clary." I was worried that she was going to see them both straight away. "Do you mind if I clean up a bit before you look? My part of the cabin is pretty messy."

"No, I'd prefer if I could look right now, lovely. I want to get going as soon as possible, okay?" She answers, looking at me again with that smirk of hers.

"Okay, come on then." I say, turning around terrified. I lead her to the Aphrodite Cabin, practically shaking the entire time.

I open the door, letting her in. "Here you go, just don't go through people's stuff too much, alright?" I close the door behind us, grateful that no-one else is there.

She starts rifling through everyone's wardrobe, checking the tags for her name, and searching through each person's accessories for her bandana. Until she got to mine.

This is where I start panicking, because I hid it in the most obvious place I could think of. Underneath my pillow.

She looks in my wardrobe, obviously to find nothing, then she gets to the bed.

She throws everything off the bed, and there lies the bandana, and the shirt where my pillow should be, crumpled up into a ball.

Clarisse, the girl I've been dating for almost 9 months now, turns to look at me with a look I've never seen aimed at me before.

A look I've only seen her give Percy Jackson, and any monster who dare to make her angry. A look of unbridled rage.

"Babe, why is my lucky bandana and shirt in your bed?" She asked, glaring at me with that look.

"Uh... I- I don't know, could have been one of the Hermes kids? But I don't know how it got there my love," I shakily replied, trying my best to get to the exit, bumping into things on the way.

"Then why are you leaving? Didn't you say yesterday that you wanted to see me off to the border?" She said, frowning at me. She stepped closer.

"Did I? I don't remember that..." I say, trailing off as my hand grasps the door handle.

"Just tell me why you took it, love" Clarisse says, that terrifying look fading and her voice growing softer as she saw how frightened I was.

She steps closer, her face relaxing as she stepped closer. Her hands were spread out wide, showing me I had nothing to fear. That she wouldn't hurt me. I know she never would, I was the only person in the entire camp she wasn't willing to spar with. The only times we ever did spar together, she always held back.

"I wanted something to remember you by, that's all. I'm so scared you won't make it- home, and I want something to have that- that's yours, so it feels like you're here with me. I'm so sorry Clarisse, I'm so so sorry I took them. I won't take anything from you again, I promise. But please, promise me you'll make it home safe, because I can't lose you." I say between sobs, tears flowing down my face and onto the hardwood floor.

I'm quickly enveloped into her arms, and my head is tucked under her chin.

"I'm sorry that you felt that way, Y/N. But maybe next time, ask for something from me. I have a ton of camp shirts and bandanas for you to have that I'd be happy to give you. You just have to a ask." She tells me, stroking my hair.

After a silence, I say, "I will, I'm sorry. Can I still walk you to the border?"

"Of course you can. In fact, why don't you pick out a bandana before I go? You can wear it while I'm gone." She says, letting me go, and leading me out of my cabin, to hers.

"Really?" I ask, my voice wobbling as tears fill my eyes once again.

"Yeah, of course love. You said you wanted something to remind you of me while I'm gone, so you can pick something out of mine." She says walking into her cabin, her hand still holding mine even as her siblings stare.

I ended up choosing a blue bandana and one of her camp shirts.

I felt all eyes on me and Clarisse as she held my hand and walked out with me. "Do you want anyone to come with us to the border?" She asks, rubbing my knuckles.

"No, I think I'll be okay" I reply, clutching the blue cloth in my left hand.

"Alright then my love." She said, and pulled me along gently to the border. There stood Argus, with his van.

"You ready to go?" He asks Clarisse, opening the van door for her.

"Yeah, just one sec" Clarisse answers.

Argus nods his head, his multiple eyes blinking at the same time.

"I'll see you later, Y/N. And don't you dare say I might not be, because I know I'll always come back to you." She says playfully.

"I swear to the gods, if you die on this quest, I'll kill you Clarisse." I joke, giggling as tears fill my eyes again.

She then kisses me, and her hands snaked around my waist. I quickly grab her face, kissing her back. I can feel her chapped lips as they move against mine. Her rough hands pull me closer, so I can feel her body .

Unfortunately, Argus interrupted saying "Clarisse, we have to get going."

She slowly pulls back and lets go of my waist. As I feel her body leave mine, Clarisse possibly for the last time, kisses me on the cheek, and moves away from me to go on her quest.

#pjo series #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #pjo x reader

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charlie-lec-stories · 5 months

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A lovely mess // CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Original Female Character

Summary: Four times Charles overreacted to becoming a father and one he actually failed to react. Or Charles being a mess through the best and most scary adventure of his life.

Warnings: None, this is pure wholesomeness.

Author’s Note: This one was inspired by some stories my own dad and uncle told me about the times they had their first children. Yes, some of those stories are based on things my father did when him and my mom were expecting me hahahaha. Rate: PG

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Every man reacts differently to pregnancy, but the most common response is just simply becoming a mess of a human being. And because of that, Charles, for once in his life, could be considerer an average man. He had been exceptional his whole life: excellent student at school, talented in arts, languages and sports, remarkable people skills and loved by everyone. People assumed that he was going to be an exceptional father too, and he knew he was committed to the role since day one, but none of that made the experience less scary. The monegasque had always want kids, he had always pictured himself growing old with a woman he loved and raising a bunch of little humans. When he knocked up his girlfriend he was definitely not planning on becoming a father so soon in his life, but he was happy nonetheless. His history with his girlfriend was kind of complicated too, her family didn't like him much, or more precisely the fact that Charles' job made her travel around the globe, away from her family all the time. He knew that he loved her more than he had ever loved anyone in his life, he knew that every time he pictured himself in the future, that future was shared with her, but it would be a lie if he'd say that the pregnancy didn't complicate things. His in-laws weren't too happy when they found out and Charles' mother was kind of worried about the whole situation. But Charles and his girl loved that little "accident" more than life itself and they actually never cared too much about anyone else's opinions. He convinced his girlfriend to move in with him and she also agreed on keep traveling with him until she ultimately had to stay home for the baby's safety.

"Is six weeks really that bad, Amour? I mean, maybe you're jet lagged or something". Charles nervously wondered from sitting at the bottom of the bed, his girl anxiously pacing around the room.

"That's not how periods work, Charlie". She was trying to stay calm and not bark at him, but that was a difficult task.

"Then let's buy a test and find out". He got up and started walking to the door when she grabbed his arm.

"Wait! You can't just go to a pharmacy and buy a test!". She looked at him like he was insane.

"Why not?". If there was someone humble enough to always forget he's rich and famous, that was Charles.

"Because you're Charles fucking Leclerc, that's why!". She let go of his arm and ran her hand down her face, exasperated. "The press is going to have a field day if you do that".

"Shit, you're right". He sighed and his shoulders sunk. He could see her shaking, scared and stressed and all he wanted to do was give her answers so she could get some peace of mind. "I'm sorry, Amour, I just don't know what to do".

"Let's call Lorenzo, maybe Charlotte can buy it for us".

He watched her take care of everything: call his brother, open the door for him and Charlotte, explain the situation, decide over test brands with his sister in law, drink loads of water, all while he sat on the couch, his mind running faster than he had ever drove his Ferrari. How could she think so clearly even with how scared she was? What would he do if the test was positive? What if she didn't want to keep the baby? Why was he feeling so sad with the mere idea of the test turning up negative? Was he really ready to be a father? There were so many questions and so little answers. He could hear Charlotte walk out the door and his girlfriend go their room, he clearly felt his older brother sit by his side on the couch, but he just couldn't move. Lorenzo said something Charles never caught, too drown inside his own head.

"I really want this baby, Enzo". Was all he let out and his brother just squeezed his shoulder.

Charlotte came back pretty fast, a paper bag with at least five different tests for his girl to do. The older woman explained the younger which ones were more effective so they could compare the results later. The possible future mother lock herself into the bathroom while the other three waited outside. Charles felt like he waited for an eternity before she came out with the five little white sticks. She placed them over a napkin on the coffee table and Lorenzo set the timer. Now, they had to wait again. She was sitting on the same couch he was before, looking at everything but the tests in front of her, so he sat down and took her hand in his, hoping for the contact to be enough to ease her thoughts. He wasn't exactly the epitome of calmness and the sweat that covered his hand made it hard to grip at. She looked at him and smiled, she knew that he was going to be there for them, no matter what, but she was still scared of what he would think, she still needed to know if he really wanted this. Still, she refrained from asking and simply rested her head on his shoulder, searching for comfort on his scent. She had her eyes closed when she suddenly flew to the other side of the couch while Charles' loud yelp filled her ears.

"What the fuck was that?". She looked around, trying to find what could have startled him so much to trow her like that, but all she could see was Charles clumsily trying to grab one of the tests while his feet barely kept him up. She had never seen him so uncoordinated in the two years they had been together. His fingers had a mind of their own and his legs were trembling.

"Two lines, this one has two lines". Charles, who had been quiet and petrified for the past hour, was mumbling like a madman as he showed his brother one of the tests. In the background, the alarm set by Lorenzo started ringing and they all looked down at the coffee table, searching for the lines of truth. Charles grabbed the the tests smiling wide as he showed them to the others. "THEY ALL HAVE TWO LINES". He was hyperventilating, his whole body shaking and Lorenzo couldn't help but let out his loudest laugh as he watched his younger brother loose the little bits of sanity he had. "CAN YOU SEE IT, BABY?!". He shoved the sticks into his girlfriend's face. "It's a baby! We made a baby! Putain de merde! I'm going to be a Papa!".

"Yes, Charlie! I see it!". She said sharing his enthusiasm. But then she saw him go pale really fast. He walked backwards a few steps and Lorenzo caught him from behind before he could fall butt first on the ground.

"Okay, I think you need to process this rollercoaster of emotions while sitting on the couch, Cha". The older Leclerc helped his bother to sit down next to the now confirmed future mama. There, Charles took her hand and smiled, a high-like expression covering his eyes. He may be scared, but he had never been happier.

If Charles' reaction to the pregnancy was that chaotic, it was a sure thing that the following nine months would be as well. Before the first trimester was up, he had already brought another house to move to, where the baby could have their own room and a playroom. He brought every piece of Ferrari merchandizing he could find on the internet, he didn't even care if it was original or not. Was it pretty? Yes. Was it Ferrari? Yes. Then he was buying it. His girlfriend even went to the extent of taking away his cards and threatened with getting rid of wifi to make him stop. He didn't, took her extension in the middle of the night and kept binge-shopping for his baby at 4 am. He brought furniture for the bedroom and the playroom, and then he found his biggest rival till the day. A rival he wanted to beat more than Max Verstappen: a crib. She wasn't even showing and he was already putting a crib together, or let's rephrase it, fighting with the crib and losing pathetically.

"Cela n'a aucun sens". (This makes no sense). He complained while he tried to attach what was supposed to be 'Part B' to 'Part 3.1'. Why there was a part 3.1, he didn't know and was too stress out to try and figure it out. He growled, he literally growled when the whole crib came crushing down in front of him. "Je déteste cette merde". (I hate this shit).

"Charlie? What's wrong? I heard a loud noise". He looked at the mother of his child and all he could feel was embarrassment. "Are you alright?".

"Yes. I'm fine". He answered from the floor, looking at his lap. He wanted to cry, but he also didn't want to upset her.

"Hey, you know you can tell me anything, right?". She sat next to him on the floor and searched for his eyes, but he kept looking away from her. "What is it, Charles?".

"I-". He tried to start talking, but he was cut off by his own sob. She quickly made him turn towards her, looking for injuries, but he seemed to be physically fine. She saw the tears running down his face and did the best she could to wipe the away. Moving to sit on his lap, she threw her arms around his neck and pressed herself flat against him, trying to get as close as she could. He cried on her shoulder, soaking her his hoodie and crushing her with his arms around her waist. They stayed like that for a while, until Charles stopped crying. She scratched his head to calm him down and after some time, he did. In a painfully soft whisper, he admitted his fear to her. "I'm going to be a terrible Papa".

"Don't say that. We both know that's not true". Shushing him, she pulled away and grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her. "Is this about the crib?".

"I've been fighting this crib for four days. Our baby is going to sleep on the floor and it's all my fault". She laughed and for a moment, she regretted it, seeing the hurt in his eyes. She calmed down and pecked his lips.

"Charlie, our baby has barely formed their ears yet, you have more than enough time to figure this out". He didn't look convinced at all.

"But what if I don't?". She smiled at him.

"I know you will. Do you want to know why?". He nodded and she ran her fingers through his hair to move it away from his face, so they could look into each others eyes and make him believe her. "Because you already are the best Papa in the world, Charles".

He won against the crib just in time to catch up with the worst part of the cravings period. They were into the fourth month of pregnancy and the little bump was proudly starting to show. Charles couldn't keep his hands away from it. He was constantly touching the bump, kissing the bump, talking to the bump, even scolding the bump whenever he saw some discomfort tinting his girlfriend's face. In the paddock he practically forced her to go everywhere with him and on interviews he answered every question while looking at her. He insisted on people staying at least ten centimeters away from her and he even took upon himself the task of preparing every meal she ate, just to make sure that it was safe and she didn't get food poisoned. He checked places' and foods' temperatures, chairs' and couches' safety, if her shoes were properly tied (at least 20 times a day), the only thing missing was him wrapping her on bobble wrapping. He safety proofed the every hotel room they stayed in so she wouldn't 'accidentally hit the bump against unknown furniture in the dark'. At some point, she had to put a stop to the madness, specially when Charles' newly-daddy paranoia messed with her cravings.

"Amour, what are you eating?". He asked when he caught her hiding with Lando and Max behind the Red Bull garage, a massive greasy half eaten hot dog on her hands. Lando was opening a mayonnaise sachet with his teeth and Max was feeding her french fries with his bare hands, all three of them sitting on the floor. It wasn't exactly the most sanitary situation, but the fuzzy feeling she felt inside her chest thanks to that hot dog made it all worth it. Charles could swear he had an aneurysm just by the sight of it all. "Where did you get that?".

"Uhm...". Her and Lando looked at Max, waiting for him to answer, since he was the one who brought it.

"Well... It's from a professional, I can assure you that, Charles". The monegasque frowned and Max swallowed, scared, just to find out his mouth was completely dry. He wasn't an easily scared guy, but something about Charles' over-protective-dad mood just terrified him.

"And where's the professional's place? Can you show me?". Max, still sitting on the floor, looked at everything but Charles.

"Oh, you see-".

"It's from the stand outside of the paddock". Lando blurted out, followed by him covering his mouth with both his hands and the three of them heard Charles growl.

"Max did you just feed my pregnant girlfriend a hot dog from a dirty street-stand? YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW IF THE PERSON WASHES THEIR HANDS-"

"They definitely don't, I mean, they don't have where to".

"Lando, you're not helping me, mate". Max advised, not moving his eyes from the fuming Charles above him. Then the pregnant girl decided to intervene.

"Charlie, babe, it's okay. I asked him to buy it for me". Charles then looked at her, his gaze softening a little, but still angry.

"Amour, you know that's not good for you". He walked to her and hooked his arms under hers to help her off the floor.

"But the baby wanted it". Max still followed Charles, afraid of what the future father could do to him for messing with his unborn baby's diet. Lando stayed very still, hoping to make himself invisible. "I was just craving this so bad! And you never let me have this type of food. The baby is fine, I promise".

"Don't do that face, it's not fair". He complained when she gave him her best puppy eyes. She didn't stop, and he finally dropped the attitude. "Okay, maybe we can make some room for a hot dog once in a while. But you have to keep eating healthy, we don't want the little Tifosi to come out malnourished".

"Yay!". She squealed and hugged him tight, the hot dog almost falling from her hand. Charles hugged her back and then directed his gaze towards the other two drivers.

"And you two". Max and Lando looked at him wide-eyed. "This better be the last time you pull off something like this. Did I make myself clear?".

"Yes, sir". Both said at the same time and got up from the floor.

"Okay, go on. And think about what you did". They nodded their heads, Max handing the girl the fries and then walking away with Lando.

"I like you daddy-voice". Charles shrugged at her comment.

"Amour, don't call it that or I won't be able to use it without laughing".

Charles' paranoia got better. He calmed down a little, but then the fear of being a bad father came back. Around the seventh month, already knowing they were having a boy, Charles found himself with insomniac. At the beginning of the pregnancy he was scared of not knowing what to do to take care of a baby's basic needs: bottle feed, change diapers, help him to sleep, and things like that. But as the date of the delivery got closer, Charles' fears shifted to the more existential type. What if he was unable to guide his son through life? What if he failed on teaching him good values and a strong sense of ethics? What if he ended up raising a spoiled kid, arrogant and narcissistic? What if he couldn't make his boy happy? What if his kid hated him? Those questions kept him up at night, turning over and over on the bed, and cold sweat covering his body. He would walk to the baby's room and look at the painting his girlfriend did on the walls, the name 'Jules' written on lilac on a clear sky, over the race track so carefully crafted. What if his son didn't want to race cars? What if he was forcing him to do so when he wasn't even born? Sitting on the rocking chair, he would look out the window, the yachts at the bay clearly visible from there. What if his son didn't like Monaco? What if his son would rather adopt his mother's nationality and culture over his? The dark sky adorned with shinny little dots would look back at him without answers.

"Charlie? Why are you up, love?". He heard his girl's sleepy voice call out to him from the doorway. He smiled at her, his eyes glossy as he fought the tears that wanted to escape.

"Just thinking, Amour. Don't worry". He gave her his best smile, but she could read his real feelings underneath it. "Go back to bed, I'll join you in a minute".

"I think we love each other enough to cut the bullshit, babe". She walked further into the room and stopped in front of him, her big belly at his face's height, and he couldn't help but reach forward and kiss it. "What is it?"

"It's... it's just a lot and it's late. Don't worry, really-"

"Charles, I'm not sleeping until I'm convinced that you're alright". He sighed, and pulled her to his lap. The weight was a little bit more than what he was used to, but he loved that, it made it impossible for him to overlook the fact that his baby was there, with them. He made her rest her back against his chest and rocked he chair, hugging her tight against him and resting his chin over her shoulder. They both looked out of the window and she patiently waited for him to tell her what was going on inside his mind.

"I'm scared. I feel this huge responsibility over Jules". She smiled, loving whenever they talked about their baby using the name they choose for him. "I just want to be a good Papa, but I'm so scared of messing up, of making the wrong choices, of using the wrong words, of leading him in the wrong direction. What if I don't raise him right? If I'm not a good role model?"

"Well, you're not alone in this, Charlie, I'm with you till the end of the line. Like Bucky and Steve. I know that we'll be alright. I just know it". She sounded so sure of herself. He wished he could be that sure about everything.

"How do you do it? How do you manage to always be so sure and composed?". She laughed and he felt the baby kick under his palm, he always kicked when she laughed.

"I've been the least composed person and you know it, Charlie! I break down crying at least five times a day. You've seen that! You're the one who comforts me every time". He laughed softly, that was true, those had been some pretty crazy seven months. A true rollercoaster of emotions. And they still had two more months to go. "I know that we'll be alright because we're already asking ourselves these questions. Because we care about Jules so much that we truly take time to think things through. We are going to be alright because we love our baby and we both know we will always do the best we can for him. We won't let the bad choices from our parents be repeated and we'll make sure to copy the best from them to give to Jules. That's why I'm so sure". She turned to look at him for a moment. "I trust you to be the dad of my baby because I know how great of a human being you are, Charles".

"I love you". He said, feeling a lot better. He kissed her tenderly, and then another kick was felt under his hand. "Thanks for being here for me, Amour".

"Always, just as you had always been for me". She nuzzled her nose against his. Another kick and they both laughed. "Let's go back to bed, Papa".

The two months passed by in a blink. Charles asked Ferrari to give him a leave of absence for the first two races of the season. He wanted to be world champion, but he would rather be there when his son was born. Ferrari let him take his time, but Jules decided to be born at eight and a half months. It seemed like he couldn't wait to meet his parents, because everything happened so fast that Charles had barely had any time to react. They were having lunch at his mother's house, and he was having the best time. His girl looked amazing, all radiant and happy, her belly covered by a cute but comfortable dress, his sisters in law both touching the belly and fighting for godmother duties. Lorenzo and Charlotte were definitely the chosen ones, but they hadn't tell anyone yet, after all both Lorenzo and Charlotte were there for them when they needed them. His mother was showing him little clothes that she had crocheted for Jules and his brothers discussing which one was going to be the 'responsible uncle' and who the 'funcle'. Arthur was definitely unable to be the responsible one, so he was already chosen to be the 'funcle'. Every conversation was cut short when the faint voice of the future mama rang through the air.

"Charlie". Her shaken voice called out, and he turned around to see what she needed. There was a wet patch under her and she was grabbing her belly, a painful expression on her face. "I think my water broke".

"The baby is coming!". Arthur shouted excitedly, but Charles' brain just stopped functioning. He saw everyone running around to grab things, Charlotte and Carla helping his girl out of the house and towards his car, Lorenzo grabbing the baby bag the carried around just in case since the beginning of the last trimester, Arthur pushing him outside and his mother speaking, but he just couldn't move. H was petrified. He felt like his blood pressure had dropped in a second and if it wasn't for Arthur behind him, he would have certainly fallen to the ground. His mother took his car keys out of his pocket and then they pushed him on the back seat, next to his girlfriend. Her hand crushing his brought him back from his outer-body state and he was able to react, turning to face her and running his other hand down her arm, doing his best to sooth her.

"It's okay, mon amour. Breath, breath with me". He instructed her and he started to exaggerate his breathing so she could copy her. She did and that calmed her down enough to count the seconds between one contraction and the next. "That's it, Amour, you're doing so good". He praised her and she smiled a little, her happy expression cut short by another waive of pain. She screamed and cried, sweat covering her forehead and running down her face, mixing with her tears. It was probably the most messy she had ever looked, but he had never seen her as beautiful as in that moment. "I love you so much". He whispered it, but by the squeeze she gave to his hand, he knew for sure she was saying it back. "We're almost there, hung on a little longer".

He almost carried her out of the car and into the hospital the second Arthur parked the car. Then, they found out that she was ready to deliver in that second. Jules didn't want them to keep him waiting, she was brought to the delivery room and Charles was given surgical gown so he could join her. Inside, the whole process was quick, in 30 minutes, Jules was crying on the doctors arms and Charles could feel his heart skip a beat. Wrapped on towel and with the small hat they had for him on, Jules was passed on to his mother, who took him instantly while she cried her eyes out. Charles, still on delay with reality, was trying to process the information. That was his baby, he was finally there, he could finally touch him. The doctor walked to him, placing a hand on his shoulder, Charles couldn't stop looking at his girl and little Jules. He heard a softly "go ahead, meet your boy", and that was enough for him to place a shaking and gentle hand on Jules' head. He ran his thumb over the soft little cheek and the tears started to fall. He felt his girl's hand wipe away his tears and heard her laugh softly. She just found funny that after overreacting about every little thing for the past eight months, Charles was barely able to react that day. He was a mess in that moment, but he was the perfect mess in her eyes. The most extraordinary mess. He finally smiled and reached down to kiss her head, then he looked at Jules.

"I am your Papa, Jules. I love you. I'm so happy to finally meet you".

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I hope you guys liked this one!

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x reader

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thebestofoneshots · 2 months

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Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 8.8 K Warnings: None Prompt: It's finally time to test Peter's theory? Will all the cuddles be worth for something or will things end terribly wrong? It is time for Vixen to face Moony. This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovelies: @aremuslupinsimp and @nagareboshi-chiyo (for the French <3)

Chapter 39: Running With the Pack

Wednesday, December 22nd. 5:37 PM

As you leaned closer to the dark tunnel that had once haunted you, you took a deep breath and stared into the vast darkness. You had run through it so many times in your dreams, crawled out of it as you were chased by a giant wolf about ready to turn you to shreds, broken your nails as you dug your fingers through the dirt and now, now you would slide down, and walk all the way to the wolf’s den, willingly.

What once had been scary, keeping you awake at night in fear of going back to it, was now drawing you in, a magnetism so strong it was almost irresistible. You took a deep breath and then smiled, greeting the darkness like an old friend rather than a foe, and letting yourself fall down the dark rabbit hole that would take you to the wolf. But not just any wolf, to Moony. Your best friend Moony. Your Moony.

The beautiful wolf you had had the grace of witnessing once before you had to run from it, the large creature with claws as sharp as honed blades and fangs that could pierce skin as one might tear through a fragile sheet of paper, eyes so sharp they could follow you through the forest before you even had enough time to think of an escape route– but they were kind too. Golden and dangerous and beautiful. They shone with the kindness of your friend, of the man behind the sleek coat of fur that shimmered with the moonlight. The eyes of the soft-spoken boy that smelled of chocolate and old books, of the one that had been kind enough to show you through the school and cheered you up after a rough day after merely days of meeting you.

They called you insane for throwing your wand on the floor as the wolf advanced on you, but you had not been looking at the wolf then, you had been looking at him, at your best friend. That had gotten you almost killed, seeing the beauty in chaos might be a noble trait, but a dangerous one nonetheless.

You now knew what a terrible idea that had been, Remus had not spared a chance to remind you of your recklessness, and perhaps you needed it, being mesmerised by the wolf was not an excuse for getting murdered. Either way, you’d be lying if you said the prospect of seeing the wolf up close –even as Vixen– wasn’t exciting.

“Sirius?” you whispered, he was a few steps ahead, walking with his wand held high and a Lumos charm. James was just a few steps behind and Peter had gotten ahead as Wormtail, to make sure Remus was still Remus when you got there.

“Yeah, Luv?” he asked.

“Are we too far?” you asked and revised your clock “It’s 6:00 pm already, and the moon comes out in about a quarter of an hour.”

You had never walked through the tunnel, you had only ran through it, and you would be lying if you said that it didn’t feel much longer now than it did back then. Not that the path hadn’t felt eternal while you were running and throwing spells at Moony, but you were rather certain that that had to do a lot more with your own perception of time than time itself.

“We’re less than 5 minutes away,” James responded, he too had been keeping an eye on the clock, trying to make sure that things would be alright.

Sirius slowed his pace until he reached beside you and whispered, “Nox,” over his wand, he placed a hand over your shoulders, drawing you close to him as he pointed deeper into the tunnel, “See that light reflection?” he asked. You nodded in response. “It’s the door you blew up last time you were here.”

You looked at him with a frown and then back at the place he was pointing at, Remus must have told him, you realised as you saw it, and you picked up your pace, almost sprinting towards it. Sirius turned to James who gave him a shrug and the two boys ran behind you.

You reached the door just under two minutes later, and you brushed your hand over the hinges, “You fixed it?” you asked as you turned to the boys, who were just behind you.

“Peter and I did, when we brought Remus over after the last moon,” James responded.

“It was in an awful condition,” you replied, remembering the Bombarda you had used and how many of the pieces of the door had flown about the room, you were pretty sure you had turned it to shreds.

“Yeah,” James agreed with a diverted smile.

You looked at the door a little closer now and located the thick bar of metal that held it in place, you brought your hand under it and started pushing it up. There was a click and the door snapped open, Remus was on the other side, he was leaning on a bed, bouncing one of his legs up and down while looking right ahead. He turned to you shortly after and seemed relieved to see everyone there. Peter was still Wormtail, and he was sleeping on a worn-out pillow on the floor. He hadn’t been sleeping well that week, staying up late to work on the final projects he had left for the last minute (It had been all of them).

You walked forwards and sat beside Remus on the edge of the bed, “How are we feeling?”, you asked. James sat beside you and Sirius had plopped down on the floor, staring up at the three of you.

“Fantastic!” he said sarcastically.

You pushed him with your shoulder lightly, having him crash against James, “Don’t be such a downer.”

“You can still leave.”

You let yourself fall back into the mattress. “No thanks.”

Sirius laughed from the floor and considered whether it would be a good or a bad idea to jump on top. Perhaps it wouldn’t be too clever, at least not with how nervous Remus was.

Remus sighed with your reply, “But what if it doesn’t work?”

“It will,” Sirius reassured.

“But what if it doesn’t?”

“Then we go for plan B,” you responded as if it was the simplest course of action.

“What if you’re not fast enough?”

“Werewolves don’t eat animals,” you said.

“No, but we can kill them,” Remus muttered as he remembered the time he had killed a squirrel that had walked close to his cage when he was 7. He had cried about it for weeks and even asked his parents to bury her in the garden. He called her Juliette, since his mom had been reading Romeo and Juliette to lull him to sleep back then and he knew she would die in the end.

“Remus!” you whined as you bumped your knee into his, “Drop the negativity, would you?”

It’s not that you didn’t have doubts of your own, but it was easier to ignore them and be brave about it if he was not repeating all the ways that things could go wrong over and over again.

“Sorry,” he said.

James let himself fall on the bed, imitating your earlier action, “I’m sure it will work,” he said, “Besides you’ve been doing research about it, right Vix?”

“I think I read more about werewolves and wolves this past month than I did for classes,” you sighed.

“I can confirm that,” Sirius said, he’d been going to the library with you too, and he’d read just as much.

You had also talked to Damocles and asked him about the potion, to use as a failsafe in case the plan didn’t work, he said he was still working on it but that he hoped he’d have it ready at some point next year. He had also given you all his notes on werewolves since you had asked if he had anything other than the ones he’d given you at first, and while those had been useful to learn about Moony, none of them helped you either prove or refute your theory.

“Right,” Remus said as he started bouncing his leg again. And then he bent down a little bit. When he looked up at Sirius, his eyes were completely golden. James stood up and turned into Prongs in the blink of an eye, standing defensively as he stared at Remus. Remus was now clawing at his own shirt to try and take it off, last time he had ripped it to shreds and he didn’t want the same thing to happen to this one. Sirius stood forward and helped him get it off.

You saw, this time even more than the last, how his skin started to rip, but you also got a small glimpse of his muscly back, and while the potion had already worn off, you’d be lying if you said he didn’t have a very nice and defined one.

“Turn,” he said as he placed his hands on his pants. You instantly turned your head to the wall.

“Into Vixen!” Sirius said, almost laughing at your instant reaction. Remus would have laughed too if he hadn’t been busy trying to hold back the cries of pain that threatened to leave his mouth.

“You too,” he said as he looked at Sirius who had placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“It’s fine,” Sirius countered. You were already Vixen, and you were still looking at the wall, tail waving restlessly as you heard Remus whimper. “I’ll do it right before you’re Moony.”

“Sirius,” Remus said as he tightened his jaw to hold back another groan and ended up stifling a whimper instead.

“You’re not going to change my mind,” he said as he helped Remus kneel on the floor.

“Sirius.”

“I’ve got it under control.”

But I don’t, Remus thought as he tightened his fist on the floor, scratching the wood with his nails, which were a lot more claws than nails themselves.

“Sirius!”

“Moony, we’ve been through this, just let me help,” Sirius insisted as he tightened his grip on Remus’ shoulder, reassuringly.

Remus huffed and turned to Sirius angrily, his eyes were menacingly golden now. But Sirius held his stare, a reassuring smile on his face as he tightened the grip on his shoulder again and sent Remus a wink. Remus would have scoffed if he’d had the chance, but he ended up just bending over a bit more and letting his head fall over Sirius’s shoulder, who was now helping to hold him up. Remus would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the closeness to Sirius. There was something about his hand on his bare back and the feel of his curls crashing against his face, that was dreadfully comforting.

If only he could bask in those feelings at any moment other than when he was about to turn into a fucking werewolf. He couldn’t though, because those hands, those curls and those beautiful lips of his belonged to someone else. To the pretty fox waving her tail desperately on the bed as she struggled to not turn her head. But then he felt it, the Wolf gnawing at him and taking his agency away, locking him up in the cage of his mind, his last ounce of control slipping away.

“Siri-us…” His voice broke near the end. And you couldn’t take it anymore you turned your head to look at the two boys and barked as Sirius. Your best friend’s face was already turning into a snout, but Sirius looked awfully calm as he held him between his arms.

You barked again, now more desperately and jumped towards Sirius, pulling at his shirt with your snout. Remus tried to push you away so that you weren’t that close to the wolf when he came about but his hand was no longer a hand anymore and his paw ended up accidentally bopping your head. You looked at him reproachfully and barely managed to make out his wince. You barked again, and this time Sirius actually listened, he turned into a Padfoot and seconds later, Moony let out a shrieking howl, no wonder that’s what they called this place.

Moony stood straight and imposing, last time you had tried to escape from him as a fox, you hadn’t had time to actually see him, too busy running the hell away. But this time around, you could see how much more bigger and imposing he looked to Vixen, as if he wasn’t imposing enough to you already.

At first, Moony seemed disoriented, but then he spotted Padfoot, who stood just a few feet from him and he howled again, this time around a much more playful one. The black dog imitated him and then Moony jumped his way, raising his front paws and letting them fall over Pads who barked happily. Moony was nibbling on Pads’ left ear while the dog continued to bark excitedly. And then, he spotted you.

He stopped the nibbling and tilted his head to the side as if analysing the intruder. He narrowed his eyes at you and bared his teeth, growling lightly as if telling you to step away, he felt Padfoot tense underneath as he too turned to you, but the dog had a worried face instead of a menacing one.

Every single instinct on your fox self was telling you to run. To find a small nook in a wall and crawl inside of it like you had done the previous moon. Alarms blaring in your brain loudly urging you to step away, to pull back, to hide. But you held your stance, you knew the wolf was trying to scare you because he didn’t recognize you, and it was his immediate reaction. He probably remembered you from the last moon too, the fox that had gotten away.

But this time around you weren’t planning to run from him, you’d held your stance until he leaned forward curiously, or until he did it intending to eat. You pulled your head a little higher and he barked at Padfoot, a simple question: «Who is she?»

Padfoot barked a much simpler answer in return «A friend».

The wolf narrowed his eyes at Padfoot now and slipped his paws off the black dog’s back. You were so used to how big Padfoot was in comparison to Vixen, that seeing the wolf standing right beside him, with the staggering difference between Pads and Moony –who was much bigger and much more imposing– was a little daunting, but you fought the urge to flee, imposing yourself over Vixen’s more animal side.

The wolf tilted his head again and started walking in your direction, one paw after the other, looking every bit like the regal beast of the night it was. You found yourself resisting the urge to step back again, looking at the wolf and tilting your own head slightly to the side. You didn’t say a thing but it was clear what you meant «I’m not afraid of you».

Moony snarled again, baring his teeth at you «Your heartbeat says otherwise».

You barked this time «Try me». Padfoot intervened this time around and barked a warning to you. And you held your tongue from barking anything else, regardless you were looking at Moony attentively, keeping your stance as calm as possible.

The wolf walked close enough to tower over you, and you stood still, he leaned his head down, leaning on his front paws to level it with Vixen’s, and he stared.

You held his stare again, a lot calmer now that you could see his eyes, there he is, hidden beneath the fur, your friend. You could always see Remus through Moony’s eyes. The wolf noticed your change in demeanour, not understanding why the closer he was the calmer you seemed to be. You leaned your head forward a little and bumped your snout with his much bigger one in a teasing manner and he pulled back with a frown.

«Careful», Padfoot barked. You ignored him, deciding to tease the wolf a little further as you jumped forward and bit one of his legs playfully.

Moony looked as scandalised as a wolf could, his features conveying a mix of confusion and irritation in the face of such unexpected audacity. How could this tiny little animal tease him like such, he was sure he could split you in half in one bite. Not that he wanted to, he was too curious to do it. Regardless, he reacted like you would expect any apex predator to react when bothered; he used his head to push you away from him, you rolled about half a metre to the side and ended up, belly-facing the ceiling as the wolf stalked towards you and snarled.

Padfoot seemed just about to jump in your defence when Moony threw him a warning look and bared his teeth at him just like he had done to you, now vulnerably underneath him.

Padfoot barked again, «friend» he reminded Moony.

He huffed in return and turned to look at you, your eyes locked with Padfoot’s who seemed to be telling you to stand back, but you knew whatever relationship you managed to develop with Moony forward, strongly depended on how you acted today with him, you had seen how playful he had been to Pads, perhaps you could have a similar experience.

You turned back to look at Moony who was looking at you with curiosity as if he was still trying to decipher your character, and you used one of your paws to hit his snout in a playful manner. He pulled back and snarled, you did it again and barked. When you tried to do it again, he held your paw in between his sharp teeth. Not biting strong enough to break skin.

You heard Prong’s hooves crashing on the floor, as if he was ready to push Moony off of you, but everyone held their place. You had all agreed on a sign, a rather specific scream that foxes could make, and they had to stand back if you didn’t make said sound or they thought danger was imminent.

You, on the other hand, looked like you were having fun as you teased the menacing wolf. You leapt forward enough to lightly bite his snout and he let your paw go in surprise, pulling back again as he stared at you.

What was that? She smelled… familiar.

«Friend?» he barked.

«Friend» Padfoot confirmed.

Moony leaned down closer to you again, his snout close to yours as he took in the way you smelled. He frowned, he was sure he had never been close enough for you to smell like him and yet, you did. Was it some kind of trick? Had you also tricked his friends? He pulled back, and stared, circling around as you turned back on your heels in the most playful of movements and sat on your back legs as an obedient little puppy. Turning your head only to follow the steps of the huge wolf.

The initial urge to run had faded away and now, even the most primal and fox-like part of you was excited to continue playing with the wolf. He barked at you, and you barked back, a polite bark this time around. Eventually, and after circling you a few more times, Moony walked closer to you, leaning from the back and moving his snout close to Vixen’s body.

First, it was close to your neck, then along your back and eventually, he leaned down to smell your belly again, meanwhile, you stood there, patiently letting him do his thing, allowing him to slowly realise you really were a friend. He pushed you to the side with his head and you pushed back. He gave you a warning look and you reluctantly did what he asked. Moving to a different side of the room where he repeated the entire thing again.

Eventually, he stood right in front of you and laid down on his paws, staring at you with his eyes narrowed. You nudged him with your snout, and he gave you a dismissive look. And then you jumped forward and nibbled his ear like he had done to Sirius earlier.

Wormtail turned his small head the other way around, thinking that would be the last straw for Moony. Perhaps you really were stupidly brave. But contrary to his expectation, Moony simply barked in response, clearly diverted. Even Padfoot seemed surprised. And after you bumped your paw against his snout again he reacted. You pulled back and barked yourself.

«Catch me if you can».

Moony barked in response and stood from the ground, chasing after you as you moved around in circles and all over the small room in the shack, crossing over the furniture, the old raggedy sofa, up and down from the bed, under the bed, under the desk that seemed close to falling apart, close to the –now wide open– metal door, under the rundown piano, and many other pieces of furniture laying around.

Eventually, you ran under Padfoot and after Moony tried to also get in between his legs, he too joined the game. Wormtail and Prongs were looking at the whole thing with both incredulous and satisfied looks. Incredulous because Moony –who had been awfully hard to control the last full moons– was playing along the room all merry and bright like a puppy rather than the angry wolf they saw too often. And satisfied, because the plan had clearly worked. Moony had accepted you as part of the pack, in fact, Prongs would even dare say he liked you. Perhaps as much as Remus liked your human self. He certainly seemed to be enjoying his time as he jumped about chasing you and Sirius as if you were all playing some canine version of tag.

After a while of playing inside the shack, Padfoot barked as he leaned towards the door, Prongs, who had been sitting on his hooves as he lousily watched you play, since he was too big to join the game inside the small room where there was barely enough space for the two big dogs and the small fox to play around, stood up in an instant. And while Prongs –being a stag– did not speak canine, like Moony, Pads and you, it didn’t take a genius to know exactly what Sirius wanted.

Prongs nodded, looking all regal in his Stag form –completely contrasting to his goofy human self– and walked towards the entrance, allowing Sirius to cross the door first and following right behind. You realised the opportunity you had then and decided to make the game a little bit more fun. You walked over to Moony, as casually as you could, and when you had the chance you bit his leg again. He growled at you in response and you took off running.

«Catch me if you can» you barked again and crossed right underneath Prongs, who had merely a second to realise something small and swift was running under his legs and stopped moving entirely, trying to avoid stepping on you. Once you got past him you ran beside Padfoot who gave you a questioning look before turning his head backwards and realising the gigantic wolf stalking behind the two of you, being slowed down by Prongs who was too big for the narrow hall to allow both him and the wolf to pass through.

Padfoot seemed about to panic when he saw the wolf chasing behind you, but when you bit him the same way you had bit the wolf just seconds ago, he realised you were playing, just like you had been inside the shack and started running just beside you, his legs were a lot longer, and he had easily gotten ahead of you. But that didn’t stop you from running as fast as you could, leaving the wolf and the stag behind. Once you reached the end of the tunnel, you crawled your way to the top. It was much easier to do it as a fox, you realised. Perhaps if you had been a fox back then, you wouldn’t have ended up as bruised as you had.

Once you were up though, you saw Padfoot near the entrance, keeping himself there as he watched the Whomping Willow stir about.

«Scared?» You barked.

«Starshine, it’s dangerous» he barked in response.

You are scared then, you thought as you sprinted forward, zigzagging your way out of the willow’s reach and barking at Sirius a short «chicken» as you ran into the forest. You felt unbelievably free, and you were having the time of your life.

Running as Vixen had always been a way for you to feel better, and after last moon, you never thought you’d consider running away while being chased by the same wolf that haunted your dreams would ever be enjoyable, not when you were hiding in the rock and not when you had been pulled by the tail with his mortifyingly strong jaws, and yet, here you were, biting his leg softly and inciting him to chase behind you, as a bIoody game.

The fact that the association made the last moon, of running away from the big bad wolf, was changing so quickly after just hours of officially meeting and playing with Moony was insane. You didn't see running from the wolf as scary anymore, but rather, it was exhilarating. The cold air of the night filled your small lungs as you ran through the crisp and thin layer of snow underneath your paws.

Was it cold? You were having so much fun you didn’t even realise it. You continued running all the way to the forest, not bothering to look back to see if the others had caught up with you, you could still smell them, they were far, but not that much. And if you could smell them, Prongs and Moony, who had the most developed senses in the gang, would definitely be able to find you, if you didn’t run fast enough, that was.

So you kept running, twirling and zigzagging all over the forbidden forest as you did, to try and make sure to leave traces of your scent on as many places as possible, to try and confuse the boys into following fake trails and so you could continue running.

You had just jumped over a dry branch when you felt something push you from the side, you rolled a few metres and took some time to figure out what was going on when you realised Moony was there, looking at you with what could be interpreted as a self-satisfied expression. He’d caught you. He pushed his snout next to your neck since you were still looking at him as you tried to get back on your feet and then howled. A loud, high-pitched sound that reverberated all over the forest.

You barked in response «Congratulations, you won».

He howled again, and you knew what he wanted, and even if you were still on the ground secretly trying to catch your breath –even foxes get tired, you know?– you followed suit. Howling along with the big bad wolf like you were part of his pack. No, you were part of his pack, the precautions had worked, and this? This meant he’d accepted you.

Another howl floated through the wind, it wasn’t far but it wasn’t close either. It’s Padfoot, you realised after hearing the slight give of his voice. You wondered if you would have been able to tell it was Pads if you had been human or if knowing was inherently a fox thing. You sometimes found it fascinating that even though you had been a fox for almost as long as the boys had been their own animagi, there were still so many things for you to discover, perhaps it was because you hadn’t spent as much time as a fox as they had spent as their own animals.

While you had roamed around the grounds of your old school as Vixen a couple of times, you had never really had time to explore that much, let alone to actually interact with other animals like you had done now. Heck, you didn’t even know you could talk with other canines while you were Vixen until a couple of days ago when Padfoot barked something at you and you understood exactly what he meant. It was so shocking to you at that moment that you had instantly turned into a human and accidentally crushed Remus awake.

“Sirius!” you had said, eyes opened like saucers as you stared at your boyfriend turn back into his human form and look at you groggily as he rubbed his eyes, he had been half asleep.

“What is it?”

“You said something to me,” you whispered, “and I understood it.”

Sirius frowned and gave Remus a look, by then you had already half gotten off of him after apologising for crushing him as you turned into yourself and were sitting on the bed as you leaned close to Sirius, your bent legs brushing against Remus’ torso.

“Yeah, you speak canine when you’re Vixen.”

“I what?!”

“You didn’t know?” Remus asked as he placed a hand on your shoulder to get your attention, you turned to him and shook your head slowly as if still considering what he had said.

“I assumed you’d know already,” Sirius said with a shrug. “You even ran when I told you to back on the last moon.”

“Because it was the obvious thing to do…”

“Are you sure you weren’t just understanding canine?”

You swallowed and turned your gaze back to Remus, “You speak canine too?”

He nodded in response, “At least when I’m Moony, I do.”

“You talk to each other?”

“I spent the last moon trying to calm him down while he wanted to pull you out of the rock,” Sirius responded.

“Wait–” you said as you considered the new information the boys had given you. “Does that mean you can talk to other dogs?”

“Yeah,” Sirius said with a nod. “Did you never encounter a fox out in the wild yourself?”

“Well, I– I didn’t stay as a fox too long when I was in my old school. Didn’t have much free time. And I had more roommates.”

“And no cuddle mates,” Sirius joked and yawned, turning back into Padfoot seconds after. He then barked.

Remus gave you a look, “He says we should go back to sleep.”

“Thought you only understood when you were Moony.”

He huffed a laugh, “Doesn’t take a genius to know what Padfoot wants,” he said as he opened his arms out. “Come on, get back here, you have to wake up early tomorrow.”

You laughed as you shook your head and turned back into Vixen. Remus carefully picked you up and placed you back on his chest as Sirius got comfortable himself.

Another bark startled you out of your thoughts and you turned to the side, looking at Padfoot, who had now jumped over Moony to try and throw him off balance. You jumped happily before spotting Prongs already catching up with you three and you barked at him as you jumped around a little, exploring the small clearing you had ended up in as Moony and Padfoot continued playing around themselves.

Being smaller, you had gotten tired a lot faster than the other two dogs and you had found a small nook on top of a fallen branch where you had leaned in to watch. Prongs had joined their playing at some point too, and they had gone on small “races” against each other, going back and forth from one spot to another. Prongs would jump on his back hooves in a much less regal way than before whenever he won while Moony and Padfoot would howl as loudly as they could when either of them got there first.

Moony tried to get you to join them on a race at some point and you just barked back something along the lines of «Not stupid enough to think I could win». Which had the wolf pull you from the tail like he had done last time –a lot softer now– and caused you to fall on the soft mossy floor.

You barked at him in reproach and he just barked again, telling you to join their race.

«Play!»

«I’ll lose»

«Play!!!»

You huffed in response, a tired sigh but in fox version. He barked again, and looked at you while peeling his eyes open a little. Was he doing the puppy eyes at you? The big, scary werewolf, making puppy eyes so you continued playing with him? Who would have thought?

You tilted your head to the side a couple of times and eventually nodded, walking towards the branch they had all deemed the finish line and prepared, Padfoot barked and you ran as fast as you could, jumping through branches and pulling through as fast as you could. But Prongs had already gotten ahead and Moony was running as fast as he could to try and catch up with him. Prongs was the largest of the pack and that helped him easily outrun most of your friends, that didn’t mean Moony was no match for him, even compared to other wolves, he was huge and incredibly clever.

The real match for you was against Sirius, who was not as fast but certainly a lot larger, if it were a race towards a specific point rather than a circle, perhaps you could have outmanoeuvred him by finding smaller places and shortcuts through the forest that he didn’t have access to, but in this case, it really was a matter of raw speed and he was far larger than you were.

Regardless you were pushing through as much as you could, jumping and crawling around to catch up with him. He wasn’t too far ahead, in fact, you could probably bite his tail if you jumped towards it, and you were so focused on trying to level up that you barely noticed the giant stag running top speed straight towards you. Padfoot veered to the side and you jumped towards the other, only to be –in the most literal sense– caught in the air by Moony.

His head pushed you to the ground and then grabbed onto the skin in the back of the neck as he picked up even more speed to outrun Prongs.

You barked in protest, not because his hold was hurting you, in fact, it was so gentle that you weren’t sure what the hell he had done to his sharp and blade-like teeth. You protested because you didn’t understand what the hell he was trying to do by carrying you through the forest at top speeds. Once you crossed over the branch, Wormtail raised one of his small hands and pointed it towards you and Moony, shrieking as he gave you the win. Prongs was just a few feet away and he jumped over the finish line branch and turned to look at the now proud-standing Moony with a tired huff.

Moony left you on the ground and howled, a testament to his victory over Prongs and then he turned to you and barked «We Won!»

«You won» you replied, not even thinking it over.

He shook his head and pushed you with his snout letting you see you were standing right over the finish line and barked again «WE WON!»

At that point, you realised Moony was far more whimsical than Remus and shook your head with a slightly amused air to your features, then you joined his victory howl.

After another while of playing with the boys, you all seemed to be running out of energy, even Moony who seemed to run on endless batteries was starting to slow down his movements. The night was still dark, but judging by your probably skewed perception of time and the position of the stars, the night wasn’t going to last much longer.

«Let’s go back» Sirius baked.

Moony snarled at him as if he were angry about the mere idea of going back to his cage.

«You’re tired, you’ll feel better if you sleep»

Moony shook his head as if he despised the idea of having to go to sleep, almost like a small child who wanted to continue playing. He turned to you as if you could help him change Padfoot’s mind. You had been the one to start him in a playing mood, after all. But you were far too tired to continue jumping around with him, you were not used to pulling all-nighters as an animagus like the boys were, and your small muscles already felt sore from so much use.

As if the abuse you had given them for trying to keep up with the much larger animals was taking a toll on your body. It was much easier to just lay on Remus’ chest and sleep than to keep up with Moony’s whims, even if both were equally relaxing and fun. You opened your mouth to bark but a yawn came out instead.

Moony leaned closer to you and started whining, much like a hurt dog «I don’t want to go» he barked in between whines. You wonder if he meant the forest or if he meant he didn’t want to turn back. It made you wonder if he knew he would turn back, in the same way Remus knew he would turn into Moony. If he was aware of his nature as a werewolf and if he felt so energetic because he knew he wouldn’t be around for another month or so once the sun came up.

You thought it was best not to ask him, it seemed like a rather delicate subject and you did not want to get your head bitten off for asking the werewolf if he knew he would be locked up in a human body for weeks until he came back again.

You wondered if it was the same thing for Moony as it was for Remus while he wasn’t transformed, if Moony saw everything Remus did in the same way Remus saw everything he did without being able to do anything about it. It didn’t seem like so, and while Remus and Moony seemed to be two separate entities, there was definitely something that connected them to each other, perhaps the potion Kless was working on would strengthen that connection, joining them together rather than dividing them in the way it did during the moons.

You yawned again and he nudged you with his snout, trying to get you up in the same way he had done for the race, «Sleep» you barked.

He whined again and Padfoot got closer, barking a few things that you didn’t care to understand, and after they seemed to reach an agreement both he and Padfoot went to nudge you «Let’s go back» Sirius barked, and this time around, everyone listened. You stood up lousily and trailed in between the two much larger dogs. Wormtail had crawled on top of Prongs and he was lying there as the stag walked carefully to avoid disturbing him. You were rather jealous, Wormy had gotten his good deal of sleep while you had to walk all the way back, then you remembered you had been the one to run headfirst into the forest as if tiredness was a state of mind instead of an actual fucking feeling in the muscles and you almost laughed at yourself.

Once you got back to the shack, you jumped on the bed and made yourself into a small ball, yawning once and then falling soundly asleep. You didn’t feel when Moony crawled on the bed next to you and placed his head on top of your back, closing his eyes as well. And you also didn’t see what happened afterwards.

Padfoot tried to get on the bed as well, which didn’t seem to bother Moony at all, but when he tried to place his snout close to yours, Moony snarled at him, baring his teeth and his hair standing on end, and expression so vicious that even Pads was taken aback.

He tried to get close again and Moony emitted a low growl «Away!» he warned.

«Friend,» Padfoot said, trying to get close to you again and Moony barked louder.

«Mine!»

«NOT!»

Moony’s growl got deeper, it was a miracle it didn’t wake you up at all and Sirius took a step back. Remus could live with seeing you and Sirius close, he would be lying if he said he never felt jealous or possessive whenever he saw you all over each other. He’d be lying if he said he’d never felt a sharp tug on his chest when he saw you kiss unexpectedly, not because he wanted you to stop, but because he yearned to join in. But Moony lacked the level of control Remus had gotten over the years.

Moony was more animal than man and Moony did not like it when you and Pads were all over each other. He could tolerate it if it was a game, but that was his Padfoot and his Vixen and they had no business sleeping next to each other if it wasn’t next to him. Was he overreacting? Probably. But unlike Remus, Moony didn’t care if he was overreacting and he didn’t care if he upset you or Pads by being possessive over the other. He didn’t care because he was the biggest, he didn’t care because he was the strongest, and he didn’t care, because he was the king. And as long as Remus was Moony, you’d have to comply with his silly little whims because, after all, he was still the scary werewolf that had once haunted your nightmares, only acting tame enough to play around with you all because he wanted to and not because he had to.

Eventually, Padfoot resolved to move to the other side of the bed and laid down next to Moony instead of next to you like he did all the time when you were cuddling. About half an hour later, you woke up after feeling a hand grip tightly at your belly, pulling you towards them. You turned around only to spot a very naked Remus, sleeping soundly. You looked at the old clock on the wall and barked to try and get him to let you go. If the clock was right, then you only had but minutes to get the hell out before Madam Pomfrey came to get Rem.

Since your barking didn’t seem to do a thing, you stretched your head as far as you could to lick his face, you had seen Sirius do it, so you thought it would work. As you stretched though, you felt your tail brush against his lower abdomen and you were so incredibly glad that foxes couldn’t blush because dear Merlin! A little lower and you would have been feeling the very private, and very exposed parts of your best friend. After getting rid of that initial shock, you stretched your head again and started licking his face.

“Little witch?” he asked groggily as he started to get up. And while you had cuddled with Remus –as Vixen– more than once, you almost always left before he woke up since you went to fly with the boys, you rarely got to actually see him in his barely lucid state. You licked again and he laughed, his voice was raspy, which made you wonder if it was just his raspy morning voice or if it was raspy because of how much howling he had done as Moony last night. You leaned closer to him and focused on a wound near his neck from where his skin had split open to let Moony out. You barked.

“It’s all right, Luv.” He said calmly, “It’ll heal soon.”

“Yeah, and we should go back now,” you heard Sirius say, he stood by the door and was brushing his fingers over his hair to get it to look less messy, both you and Remus thought it was adorable.

“You should cover up mate,” Peter said as he pulled one of the covers your games had dropped off the bed last night and threw it over Remus, covering his more private areas. He was immensely thankful for that.

“And stop hogging my girlfriend,” Sirius added, you had your small head on the crook of Remus’ neck and he was holding you rather close, just enjoying how warm you were and how deliciously you smelled, of moss and wet soil, of Padfoot and Moony, and most importantly, of Sirius and himself. If only he could cuddle you and Sirius every day like this, he would be the happiest man alive. Sirius, on the other hand, was a little cranky over the fact that Moony had kept Vixen away from him at early morning cuddles, he had already gotten used to biting your ear in the morning to wake you up only to have you turn back into your human self and shove him off for waking you up in such a crass way. He would then say something silly and get you to laugh. Sometimes you would even place a soft kiss on his lips as you climbed over him and out of the bed. He adored how domestic it was, something he hadn’t tried before, and he hadn’t seen it either, such simple acts of affection lifted him up immensely. He’d never had something like that at home.

You thought of turning back, to give Sirius a rather snarky remark when you remembered you were still lying next to your naked best friend and decided it was best to step off the bed before you were human again. And so you wiggled out of Remus’ grasp, who groaned in return.

“Stay a little longer,” he said with a pout as you tried to get out. You barked in response, something along the lines of «It’s late, Pomfrey will be here any minute now», not that anyone understood, neither of the boys were dogs anymore.

“It’s late, Moony,” James said as he walked over to the bed, took you from Remus’ grasp and dropped you in Sirius’ arms, who, by the way, looked absolutely pleased with himself now that he got to hold you. “You better get dressed or you’ll be naked by the time Pomfrey is here.”

Remus just groaned in return and covered himself with the bedsheets entirely. You were aware that Moony liked his hours of sleep, you also knew he got cranky if he didn’t, but it was surprising to see him act so childishly. Either the moon fucked him up real bad, or he just considered you already close enough to him to act however the hell he wanted when you were around.

“We’ll meet you at the infirmary before the train leaves,” Peter said and you barked afterwards, to confirm his statement.

Remus just groaned in response, something akin to “okay” but not quite it either.

Peter turned back into Wormtail and James placed him in the front pocket of his pyjamas before he took the cloak out of an old trunk in the corner of the room and covered himself, Sirius –and you for default– with it. That’s how you stepped out of the old raggedy room of the shack and back into the dark tunnel.

You thought it was silly how different the tunnel felt each time you’d passed it so far, the first time you had been running from the wolf, anxious, stressed and fearing for both your life and Remus’, the second time you had been walking with both curiosity and hope that your plan would be all right, and it had felt a lot longer than the first. The third time had gone in an instant, you had been running from Moony again, but this time you were diverted, since it was all a game and the two of you knew as much. The fourth, on your way back you had been exhausted, but the kind of exhausted that felt good. The kind you felt when you were a kid and you had played for hours and hours and your eyes were giving out, but you still wanted to continue playing. And now, being carried by Sirius as he and James walked alongside each other back towards their room, you felt so comfortable you might as well fall asleep.

And you did, next time you opened your eyes, you were lying alongside Sirius on his bed, curtains drawn and silencing spells clearly cast around them, since you couldn’t hear anything from the outside. You turned back into yourself and Sirius stirred on the bed, taking hold of your waist and pulling you to him. “Morning sleepy head,” he whispered in your ear.

You yawned, wondering what time it was as you turned around and leaned on Sirius’ shoulder. “We need to pack,” you sighed.

Sirius groaned in response, pulling you closer to him “Non, nous devons câliner.”

“Sirius…”

“S'il te plaît, Étoile“

You sighed again “The train is leaving at 3, what time is it?”

“Assez de temps pour que tu me fasses un câlin.”

“Ugh,” you said as you buried your head in his chest, he loved it, he too thought you smelled delightful. “You make it hard for me to be responsible.”

“Désolé.”

“You’re so not sorry,” you said with a smile as you shoved him lightly. You weren’t sure when it had been the last time you had cuddled Sirius. Just you and him, you missed it, even if it felt like something was missing from it. You then started drumming your fingers over his chest “It worked,” you added.

Sirius nodded, “It did.”

“Who would have thought, Wormy had it right…”

“You didn’t think it would?” Sirius asked as he looked at you with a frown.

“I had hope…” you responded with a shrug.

Sirius shook his head as he scoffed a laugh and bit his lip, of course, you would go through with it even if you weren’t 100% certain.

“Does that mean we have to continue doing the cuddle thing with Remus?” you asked then, a small frown forming between your brows.

Sirius was taken aback by your question, the three of you had gotten so used to it by now, that the idea of not doing it anymore seemed preposterous, for the three of you, since even Remus was thinking he would miss the hell out of it now that it wouldn’t be happening anymore. Moony had accepted you as part of the pack.

“I– perhaps we should continue it, if only for the next moon or so, just in case…” he said, thinking if that excuse was too silly to be believable. If you would see right through him like you so often did and instantly tell there were secret intentions behind them. Was he using you as an excuse to be close to Remus? To be close to both you and Remus at the same time? Was that so bad? Was he so selfish for wanting to have the two things at the same time? Boy and girl? Wolf and Fox? Remus and you?

Would he even get away with it? With being in love with you but having this pull towards his best friend that he just couldn’t quite grasp yet? Only that he knew he liked burying his face on Remus’ neck and he liked how much bigger he was in comparison and how strong he felt, but he also liked how much smaller you were and how much softer. Was there a worst possible time for him to discover he liked boys? For him to discover that he liked– no. He liked you.

You didn’t want the cuddles to stop either, even if you told yourself it was an excuse to be Vixen, even if you told yourself it was an excuse to be next to Sirius at night, that you certainly loved, even if you kept telling yourself that it was for Moony and for Remus’ sake, it would be a lie if you said you didn’t like laying over Remus’ chest and sleeping with his hand on your head, carefully brushing the back of your ears. Vixen adored Remus’ cuddles, there was no question about it. But perhaps, you were lying to yourself too, as much as Remus and Sirius were lying to themselves at least. It wasn’t only Vixen that liked the cuddles and it wasn’t only your animagus side that liked to be pampered.

“Yeah,” you responded, “just in case.”

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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A/N: So... it was actually all cute and fluffy during the moon. Who would have thought? You guys were asking for a new Q&A so I'm working on it at the moment, send all the questions you may want to be added here, or directly on asks. Love, Lils xx

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makos-hotbox · 1 year

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can i req more ghost x reader x konig poly relationship stuff ?? i loved ur other hc list sm <33

LARGE FONT VER.

| extra info :: I decided to make the reader a k9 handler because I had a req for that but I lost it so I hope this is good! It’s also very scattered I’m sorry- |

… 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖

`⌁ ◜ 𝐰𝐞’𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐰𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬. ◞

You already had scary dog privileges before with your actual dog. But after you got into a relationship with both Ghost and König, two more scary dogs were added.

When Ghost first met Shadow, you were a bit nervous on how both of them would react. You were worried that Ghost’s mask would spook the dog, but thankfully, it wasn’t that bad. The two of them were able to get used to each other really quickly.

But when it came to König, they got along immediately. He loves animals and it made him super excited when your dog took a liking to him. König loves to spoil him when he comes to your room and sees Shadow laying around. The two of them are adorable when they play around.

Sometimes the two of them stop by the K9 area to watch the two of you train. Watching from afar as you run Shadow through his different commands or test him on his searching skills. Usually, they wait for you to finish so they can walk with you next. Taking you to wherever you’re going next or just going on a stroll.

When you take Shadow out to go play, König and Ghost love to tag along. König will run around with the dog like crazy, it’s hilarious watching that 6’10 man sprint from that dog. Ghost prefers to stay back with you and just throw Shadow’s toys around for him instead.

Now back to some other normal relationship hcs-

König loves to cook for you and Ghost. Ghost isn’t really allowed to cook that much, since he usually burns the food accidentally. So König likes to take up that job when you guys are home. His favorite thing to make is breakfast for you in the mornings, breakfast in bed is a must for him.

The three of you have movie nights on the couch every time you guys are off. Ghost usually takes care of the snacks, running to the store for anything you and König would want. While you and König take care of picking the movies and grabbing blankets and pillows to get you all comfortable.

The three of you will lay piled up on the couch all night, König and Ghost on either side of you. You will switch from leaning against König’s chest and resting your legs over Ghost’s lap, and vice versa.

More than half of the time, you all fall asleep there and wake up aching in the morning form being crunched up on a tiny couch. Ghost laying with his head on your stomach with his arms wrapped tight around you. As you used König as a mattress, the German man was still sleeping soundly without issue.

If needed, König and Ghost will babysit Shadow for you. Even if they get a bit nervous that they will mess up somehow. König gets worried that he isn't feeding him enough and Ghost sometimes thinks Shadow suddenly hates him. You have to just explain that Shadow gets upset when you leave, he doesn’t want to be left with his parent’s boyfriends! He wants to be with his parent!

Ghost loves to spend quality time with you and König. Sitting with you as you binge watch tv or interest yourself in your hobbies. He doesn't mind sitting and doing nothing, as long as he's with you. Will love to have small conversations with you about the simplest of things.

If he's hanging out with König, the two of them will probably work out or even train together. You can join them too if you would like, but that’s what they're doing 75% of the time. If they're not doing that, they're probably playing some sort of video game on the couch together. Cursing under their breaths as they get frustrated and shit talking about other players with each other.

Every once in a while, you and König will have random bursts of idiocy with each other. Becoming absolute dorks and annoying the shit out of Ghost is your favorite pastime with him. Filled with giggles and jokes as Ghost curses the both of you as he tries to shove both of you in bed to sleep. He has to admit he sometimes feels like a mother when he has to care for the both of you.

König and Ghost love to spoil you and almost can never say no to your wants. Easily being able to convince the both of them to do little favors or go with you somewhere. Ghost is usually the one to go with you places.König doesn't like to go because of his anxiety so the Brit does it instead. Accompanying you to the store or the drive through of a restaurant. König however makes up for it by buying you gifts or things he notices you want. If the three of you are at the store and he catches you eyeing something, he will buy it. Either secretly or right in front of you, ignoring you tell him that he doesn’t have to.

Overall, being in a relationship with these two is very stable and protected. They're not too much for you and always love to put you first. They don’t want to see you upset or hurt so they try and make it the best for you. Showering you with love and tons of quality time with each other when you all can.

The sun had set long ago, Ghost and König still waiting for you to get home. You had recently just come home from a mission, Shadow and you had been doing some heavy work raiding a house filled with narcotics. Your boyfriends were sitting at home hoping you would come back safe. The two large military men sat in front of the tv on the couch, gaming controllers in hand. They were enjoying themselves and their games, completely engrossed in the tv to distract themselves as they waited.

König cursed under his breath as he missed a shot, causing him to get killed. Ghost immediately got revenge and killed that person for König, cursing him out as well, just louder. Once the game had ended, König leaned back and checked the time on his phone, realizing how late it was getting. “When did Y/n say they would be back again?”

“No idea but it should be soon, it couldn't have been that long since they got released.” Ghost replied, starting up a new game, single player since König was taking a break. The German man stayed silent as he awaited your arrival, he missed you a shit ton and honestly just wanted to have you in his arms again. As Ghost leaned forward to start the new round, the front door swung open a black blur sprinting into the living room.

Before he could react, Ghost was tackled by the blur. A surprised yell coming from him, fighting off the attack enough to realize that it wasn’t a monstrous blur, it was Shadow, your K9. “Shadow! You son of a- down!” Ghost yelled over his own laughs, pushing the large dog off of him. König was laughing as well, but he managed to escape in time to go and find you by the door. Placing your bag down, you spotted your tall boyfriend and threw yourself into his arms. König squeezing you in a tight hug, placing a quick kiss on your head as well. “Welcome home mein Schatz…” He smiled, leading you into the living room where Ghost was barely beginning to get Shadow to calm down.

Seeing König, the dog immediately bolted to him next. The man greeted the excited animal eagerly, crouching onto the floor to rub Shadow’s belly. Now that he was free, Ghost got up from the couch to welcome you home finally. Pulling you into a strong hug, he buried his face into your shoulder. Ghost didn’t want to let go, he missed you too much. But you still had to unpack and you really wanted to shower so you tried to pry yourself away.

“Awh come on.. I missed you.” Ghost grumbled, but paused as you leaned in to give him a kiss. Causing Shadow to start barking at the man, sending all three of you into laughter. “After all this time I have been with you two and he still gets jealous when I kiss you guys?”

Ghost sighed and let you go as you babied your dog, “I think he just secretly hates me. I knew he didn't like me from the beginning.” He scoffed and squared up with Shadow again as he suddenly barked at Ghost. The two of them going at it again, Shadow sprinting through the house as he played with Ghost and König.

REQUESTS :: OPEN

» 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 … 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞

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sukunaology · 4 months

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Hello, I am a first time reader. May I please request for Yandere Nanami Kento one shot wherein his darling is trying to hide from him inside their shared home.

𝚗.𝚔. — 𝚓𝚓𝚔

a/n: hihi !! thank you for requesting!! i was so excited to see my first request! i hope i fulfilled what you asked for you! kento is a new character to write for me so i hope i do him justice lolol

w/c: 758

synopsis: in which you screw up royally

trigger warnings: pet names (dear, darling), general yandere scariness, kidnapping mentions, forced financial dependency, mentions of violence, mention of punishment, forced domestic roles and spanking. MDNI, read under the cut.

it hadn't been long since kento had brought you back to his home. you still have nightmares of that moment when you had been knocked out and taken to the home that he had recently bought. he told you that it was perfect, it would be just you and him, in a shared domestic bliss.

though in your eyes, it did not feel that way. even though you greeted him every evening at the door, you never ever truly loved him. it was a matter of survival for you.

you quickly learned kento's pattern, if you had disobeyed or made any attempt to run away, he would bend you over his knee or he'd lock you up in that strangely large basement depending on the severity. kento isn't quick to anger, in fact, compared to everyone else, he has loads of patience toward you. he didn't mind that dinner was not always ready when he came home. he didn't mind that learning how to sow took you a long time. it was only when you decided to challenge that domestic fantasy he had created that were you subject to the worst of kento.

"dear, i'm going to work now"

his voice pulls you from the chasm of your mind, and you look up at him. you feel his lips press gently against your forehead, his hands cupping your cheeks. you lean into his touch, feeding his fantasies. you began to notice that he trusted you more than he did in the past.

he lets you watch tv for a certain amount of time, he lets you outside when he is home. he also started letting you access the knives in the kitchen, you hadn't tried to test his patience since the last time he had locked you in the basement.. but today you felt brave.

you walk kento to the door, giving him a final goodbye kiss. you wave as he enters his car and he drives away.

closing the door, you decide to occupy your time by reading books or doing menial chores around the house, it's the only thing you can really do. you watched carefully as the clock ticked by, waiting for that very specific time. 3'oclock. this busiest hour of kento's office job.

when that fated time clicks on the clock hands, you get up and carefully head to the farthest window down the hallway that connects the living room to the stairs. you push up the window lock and you cheer mentally as it opens with no problem. it seems easy.. almost too easy, but you pay no mind to the minute details of the moment.

pulling yourself up to the window ledge, you freeze as you notice the green light reflection in the window. your hands feel clammy as you jump down, closing the window. you turn slowly, meeting face to face with the camera. damn it. you should have seen that coming

kento plans everything

he knows everything you do

he must be coming home now.

in the distance, outside the door, you can hear the tires of kento's car tires screech. you shake out of your stupor to find a place to hide. instinctively, you go where you always hide when kento gets like this. the bedroom closet. predictable, but it allows you a moment to get ready for what is to come.

like clockwork, you hear the door slam. his footsteps stomp up the steps and you can hear as he enters the bedroom. "dear, come out. now" he speaks evenly, but you know of the hell that will come to you. you might as well face it now. you get up from your fetal position and you step out of the closet door.

kento sits on the edge of the bed, and he gives a stern yet disappointed look. "i expected better from you, darling. you know what to do, come here"

you do as you are told and you come to him, you bend over his knee. he hikes up your pants, "we'll do fifteen. this will help you remember exactly what happens if you do this again" clenching the sheets from where you lay, you prepare yourself for the first hit.

then the next

the next

and the next

it feels like forever before it is over. he rubs his hand up and down your back as you sob, the stinging pain hitting you like a freight train. "i know it hurts, but you'll do good to remember that this is for your own good darling"

#yandere kento nanami #yandere jjk #𓆩♡𓆪 juni writes #jujutsu kaisen #yandere jujutsu kaisen #oh god i hope i did this right ue ue

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lazyneonrabbitt · 2 months

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I've been seeing some words in the tags and thought, hey, why not. I hope it's any good!

Daryl x male!reader

Being the new guy in the recruitment party was scary.

You ran with Aaron, who had a mace for a hand and was a badass.

And Daryl, who was probably the biggest walking distraction you had ever seen. He was everything you wanted to be, or to have? You weren't sure you just knew the crush you had on him was obvious to Aaron, and Daryl was luckily oblivious to it.

Daryl did always look out for you, though. He cared for his party members and whowed it in many different ways, like heading into a store to find you new, sturdy steel-toed boots after seeing you shove walkers to the ground and stomping their skull with worn out shoes that could easily tear if you did that more often.

"C'mon, give 'em a test run." He'd call out after knocking a walker down on its stomach and holding it down for you to crush its skull with much more ease now.

Next time you guys were going out on a run when the weather got a bit colder Daryl made sure to find you a thick leather jacket. You thanked him only for it looking really good and wondering how he knew you wanted a cool jacket, but when he told you why he gave it to you it was even better. "Walker won't tear this as easy as yer other coat. Will bite through it so don' go bein' reckless now just cus ya look badass." The pat on your shoulder radiated through your entire body as heat rose to your cheeks and Aaron laughed from next to Daryl. "Looks good on you, you two match now."

Aaron found it hilarious how you had confessed to being head over heels with the huntsman but always declined when he told you to go make a move. "He clearly wouldn't mind if you cooked dinner for him or let him teach you stuff about his bike." With a fork pointed at you from across the dinnertable he continued. "Which you still need to ride, by the way." The way he made a fece when he said 'ride' had you almost choke on your dinner. You swallowed the food and coughed. "Oh come on! Just when I take a bite, really?" You both laughed and Aaron decided to drop the teasing, letting you finish your dinner in peace.

The next day he found Daryl working in the garage, deciding to go fish for a bit so he could see where he was on the spectrum of liking you.

It was difficult to fish when he couldn't just outright ask seeing Daryl didn't talk about these things, but he managed to learn he was absolutely fine with having you around and teaching you stuff. He counted that as a win.

A couple of weeks passed and Aaron was getting tired of seeing his friends be a bunch of dumbasses and rung them up for a supply run to a stocked warehouse to take whatever they could fit in the car.

"Where do you expect me to sit, dude?" You stared at the car's trunk, backseat and passenger seat stuffed full of random crap you disn't even know the community needed. Only when Aaron pointed out you could ride back with Daryl the hint dropped. You didn't really need all this junk, he just wanted you two to admit your feelings.

"Hop on, yer with me." Daryl was already seated on his bike and waiting for you to join him, watching you approach slowly and get on the bike with awkward movement.

"Now hold on tight, ya don't wanna fall." He revved the engine but didn't drive off yet, instead looking over his shoulder. "Said hold on tight. Tha' aint' tight, kid."

You pressed further into his back, but still he grabbed your hands and wrapped your arms closer around him. "Tha's tight. Now lets go home of we wanna be done unpackin' all tha' crap 'fore nightfall."

With that, you were off to home.

You never imagined how amazing it felt to ride on a motorcycle, but maybe that was because of how you were squished against Daryl's back.

Which was something Daryl was enjoying an awful lot too, if he had to admit. He really had to invite you on solo hunts more often.

It was in fact far into the evening when you had finally empties out the car and sorted all the items. Tired and sore you bid the men goodnight and headed home, in dire need of sleep.

Daryl had taken you out on a hunting trip not long after. "Pretty boy like ya shouldn't be out there unprepared." He claimed while teaching you how to soften your steps and breath through the process of keeping aim on a target far away. You managed to catch only one small animal but Daryl still called it a successful hunt and took you home to continue the teachings by showing you how to clean and skin in preparation for cooking.

You shared dinner together and hung out on the couch, going over the day, how proud Daryl was of your quick learning and how thankful you were for him teaching you.

Daryl came back from the kitchen with new drinks and sat down closer than before, setting the glasses down on the table and lounging back. He lifted an arm to drape around you and pull you against his side, finally gathering the courage to do what Aaron told him to, in his own Daryl way of words of course.

"I like havin' ya around, kid. Stick around fer a while longer?"

#sometimes i write #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x male reader #x male reader #twd daryl #twd #the walking dead

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tsumuhours · 9 months

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AMERICAN JESUS PAIRING: suna rintarō x fem!reader TAGS: alternate universe – gang world, smut, oral, flirty suna WORD COUNT: 10k

Life always has a weird way of fucking you over.

Whether it be in the form of finding an injured member of a notorious gang near your apartment, or trading silence for safety, or how he pulls you into a complicated relationship which goes against integrity and... possibly laws.

mature content !

Life always has a weird way of fucking you over.

Not to say you haven't deserved half of the mandated karma – you haven't always been the best person, given the borderline psychopathic attempt of climbing to the top – but a break, or a nice surprise would be a great change in routines.

Whoever said success is a lonely road was, painfully, correct. To think that you spent your high school years working hard to get into an ivy league, spent those four years working at internships to make those desired connections people dream of!

Only to get out at the age of twenty-two and spend the next year as some glorified, under-paid, under appreciated, assistant. And no, that's not what the job description is supposed to entail, you're meant to be an associate – associates are not supposed to run around getting coffee – with the main purpose of developing your career and hopefully making partner in seven to ten years time.

Not to mention, since the city has unbelievable prices of living, you had to move to a neighbouring borough just for the possibility of having a studio apartment that isn't the size of a closet for the same price. Is it the most convenient?

No, not really, considering the fact the commute is over thirty-minutes and you have to go back and forth from work at unreasonable hours because your boss insists on bringing you to every little, insignificant meeting, or post-work drinks at nine at night – which is an excuse for the woman to spiral further into alcoholism – where you will inevitably end up carrying your boss back to her penthouse on the upper east side.

And no, it doesn't get better, because afterwards, after spending two hours at an expensive bar with the drunken, divorced, mess of a boss you have by the time she gets home safe, you're expected to deal with the city's delayed – and inconsistent – subway times at this ungodly hour and spend the next thirty-minutes in a train with rando's and sketchies.

Oh! No, that's not where it ends, because by the time you get off the subway, it's almost midnight, and you have to take a lovely – scary – ten-minute walk alone to your apartment, but walking anywhere at night is terrifying... Except for the rumour, or fact, that violence has been making its way around the borough, and according to new statistics – regarding the quarterly crime rate review – it's been looking a bit too stabby for your liking.

Now, this walk home is nothing different to how it is every day. You stride down the street with purpose, clutching your taser, and eerily aware of your surroundings. Although, remember how life always has a new way of fucking you over through some odd, irrelevant, way of testing your resilience?

This is one of those occasions.

Let's say it's not common for a man to be curled up in the small alley where residents keep their trash, but then again, crime rates have increased by a percentage that can make anyone uncomfortable – still, committing those types of crimes in a residential neighbourhood where people are simply trying to live their lives is ridiculous. Have some class.

Sure, as a law abiding citizen or natural samaritan would help, but no, not you. Living in a densely populated city means one thing, and one thing only, keep your head down. It's a game of see nothing, know nothing. Everyone minds their own business, that's how you stay safe and avoid danger – including scammers, or the random cult recruiters.

So, you intend on reaching for your keys to the front entrance of your small building, until you hear a small groan come from the neighbours dumpster alley. Sighing, you swallow your pride – and maybe your safety – holding your phone in one hand, and taser in another, and go over to look. The flashlight turned on, as you flash it on the curled up body.

You cannot see his face, but you instantly recognize the leather jacket and matching bandana. Of fucking course, out of everyone in the world, you happen to come across a member of a gang – as if this is some cruel joke from the universe. What do they call themselves? The Foxes? That awful group that parades around in black and maroon, with their emblem of a fox printed on leather jackets that they display for the world to see.

You're reluctant to step forward, maybe it's the threatening affiliation this guy has wound himself with, or the blood on his hands – literally and figuratively – as he grips onto the side of his stomach. The thing is, you've got a massive report to read over and playing doctor with someone is not on your list of side-quests – as it doesn't benefit your position, or reputability on the job any better. However, people are always watching, so if word were to magically get out that you saw a member of this notorious, tight-knit gang and ignored him, that could put a dangerous target on your back.

But, if you help him, you can probably lawyer your way into securing safety for your silence. You could exchange saving his life, for him, inevitably, saving yours in turn – ensuring that you're home, your spaces, where you are at all times is a no-go zone. Sure, that means turning your back on the entire legal system you've spent studying is thrown on the backburner, but you need to look out for yourself.

What is success if it means you've got strangers pinning a vendetta against you, and watching your every move before they strike? How could you ever reach partner if you get killed? How could you ever live with the benefits of making partner, if you get killed before you can exercise those benefits?

The short-term pride is not worth it if you don't get to brag about it... and silence for safety seems like the best option on the table. No one ever said that law always has to be good, it's unjust – at times – unfair and just as corrupt. Only ten percent of people who go into this job do it out of the good of their heart, the rest, the majority do it for the money and respect.

And it isn't part of your job description to be a good person, you're not a doctor. You didn't pledge to an oath about refraining from causing harm or hurt, or to act honestly and responsibility. No, you are conducting yourself with dignity and conscience – and as far as you care, freedom of speech and association still exists, and what you're doing isn't necessarily illegal unless you get recruited or actively participate in a crime.

And since when helping someone not die a crime? He's part of the Foxes, for christ sake. They can invoke power anywhere, he can potentially make you untouchable. You can live your life somewhat more peacefully if it means that safety is a guarantee. If you save one of them, they have no choice but to repay you. That's how the system works.

Sighing, you step closer, bending down to get a better look at him. Flashlight illuminating the severe wound on the side of his stomach, the blood surrounding his black top and his hands. "Fuck my life," you mutter. He's practically losing consciousness with every second, you doubt he's capable of standing up by himself, and there's no way you're going to attempt to fix him by a pile of trash.

So, you do what you can, gently lifting up his upper body, draping his arm around your shoulders as you begin to stand. God is he big, and getting him up the stairs will undoubtedly be a struggle. Still, as if on impulse, his feet start moving as you carry more than half of his weight towards the front door of your building, up the stairs to the second floor – where your apartment remains.

Forcefully, pushing open the door, you find all the strength in your body to lead him to the couch – internally crying at the stain that will taint the grey cushions – where he falls over and lays on his back. Absolutely winded, you walk into your bathroom, searching for that old – raggedy – first aid kit in the cupboards along with cotton balls and comically large band aids that you have no reason for owning.

God, it's as if this was planned, fucking written in the stars. Yes, you were meant to end up in this situation because you are one of the only people in the world who thought it'd be fun and convenient to own large band aids that can temporarily cover a stab wound. Good going!

Gathering all the materials in your hand, you walk over to the couch where he remains in limbo. Again, you're no medical professional, no, the most training you have consists of a short one hour life skills lesson and a topic on human physiology that was part of your biology course in high school. So, yes, you're a bit rusty – but that doesn't mean you're incompetent.

Kneeling down on the floor, scattering the items next to you on the floor, reaching for the cotton balls and bottle of disinfectant. But as your fingers graze over the skin on his torso to lift up his shirt, he flinches, and for the first time since running into him, you look at his face with an offended look on yours – as if he's able to see you through his shut eyelids.

He catches you off guard, the delicate and mesmerising features. Strong jaw, dark hair, furrowed eyebrows that mix in well with the discomfort he must be feeling. Yes, he's beautiful, but he's also bleeding out on your couch and part of an infamous gang that got himself stabbed. Letting out a frustrated, hmph, you lift up his shirt to examine the wound – as if you have any idea what you're doing.

First, you need to unarm him. You run your hands through the pockets of his cargos, pulling out a phone, wallet, and pocket knife, then dig through the pockets of his leather jacket finding nothing alarming.

Next, you cover your hands with latex gloves, then get to work. Letting the cotton balls absorb the disinfectant before running it along his skin, in which he finches in response. "Stop flinching, I'm helping you." You mutter, sure, maybe using water would be a better alternative than bathing him in on the shelf disinfectant, but water is not going to effectively clean him up.

You don't even know what you're doing, and your body, mind, even fucking adrenaline knows that by the way your hands shake. Do you need to stitch him up? You don't know how to suture a wound, you don't even know how to stitch! You don't even own string, yarn yes, but you doubt that sealing someone up with lilac yarn is the most sanitary or safe.

So, of course, you do the most reasonable thing and search it up, and given the short research it confirms that you don't have to do anything – then again, how many people get stabbed and don't receive certified medical attention?

Hands still shaking, you dive into the medical box, looking for antibiotic ointment. "I hate you, you know?" You begin speaking to yourself as you uncap the cream, "You're bleeding out on my couch. Is it a good couch? No, it is uncomfortable, and by the way your legs hand off the arm rests, it's not the biggest. But it's my couch, I found it on the street."

You apply the cream around the puncture, hearing his quiet groans and incoherent murmurs. After that, you reach for the band aid – or non-adherent pad as they call it – peeling off the back and gently placing it over the puncture. It's not a good replacement for proper medical care, but it will suffice until he manages to crawl his way back to wherever he lives and gets professionally treated.

"You better pay for a new couch, or a deep cleaning." You continue, beginning to pack up all your things before standing as you remove your gloves, and move to the kitchen to toss them out. "I have things to do, you know?" You say from the kitchen, washing your hands thoroughly.

That's partially a lie, the things you claim to have insist on reading a fucking brief or case while sitting on your couch watching something on Netflix – because cable is a waste of money – with one of many microwave meals stocking up your small white fridge. Still, this momentary distraction has moved those plans to tomorrow night. A Saturday night.

"I don't know who you are, or what your rank is in this stupid gang of yours, but I don't care." You continue your rant, grabbing a glass of water and pain-killers – placing them on the small cushioned ottoman, because who has the space to own a coffee table? – pacing back and forth in your apartment, where you can finally kick off your shoes by the front door and grab the purse you discarded by the small circular dining table next to the fridge. "I have work to do."

You storm towards your bedroom, dumping your purse on your bed and digging through it for your laptop and thick file, then you grab a highlighter sitting on the bedside table. And hopefully by the time he wakes up, you would have done something worthwhile and beneficial to your career.

So, yes, in conclusion, life always has a weird way of fucking you over.

An hour has passed since you fixed up the stranger who lays, practically comatose, on your couch. Since then, you've changed out your clothes, showered, and gone through at least fifteen pages of this case you're supposed to assist with and eventually write a report for. Sitting in bed, music softly plays through your laptop as you bite on the end of a highlighter, re-reading the same paragraph over and over again.

It's safe to say that your mind is a bit distracted, maybe it's the fact you're harbouring a criminal in your apartment, waiting for him to wake up and possibly kill you. The Foxes are notorious for many things, heists, robbery, petty murder, but particularly famous for the sale of illegal goods – whether it be drugs, or unlicensed arms – and you happen to have one sitting in your living room.

All for what? The fear of getting murdered? Having a target on your back? Trading integrity for safety? To be fair, those are all valid reasons why you've decided to take him in. You can call the police, turn him in, do greater good for the grand community. He's docile and helpless right now, you've searched him for weapons and you keep his belongings hostage on your bed. But, what are the cops going to do?

You hear a groan coming from the living room, and immediately shoot up from the bed, swinging your feet over the mattress and feeling them hit the cold wooden floors as you turn around to grab the baseball bat leaning against the mattress.

The first, and big thing he feels is pain. An unbearable type of pain on the side of his stomach. He places a hand over the plaster, expecting to feel blood or an infection, but jolts awake when he's proven wrong. He sits up, painfully, and scans the apartment for any sign that will tell him where he is. The messy decor of the room, the glass encased bookshelf that's filled to the brim with trinkets, novels, DVD's, CD's, and records. Behind him, on the wall are framed movie posters and paintings. Lamps, candles, and a full wall tapestry behind the tv. A plethora of coats and bags hanging on the door. So much clutter in this little living room.

He turns his gaze to the small kitchen, a shelf lined with snacks, spices, a bowl of onions and garlic, and a concerning amount of liquor. On the counter, are dishes, coloured pots and pans, empty jars. Whoever lives here loves their fair share of pink, grey, and light blue cups, bowls, and plates. They apparently also love their fair share of tea and instant chai latte mixes, and colourful string lights.

He has no idea where he is, or who happened to pick him up from the streets. All he knows is that he was ambushed by the Crows and left for dead, talk about sending a fucking message. Understandably, he turns his head to look behind him, where you stand holding a baseball bat to your side. He reaches for his pocket, where his knife always remains, only to feel nothing. You've disarmed him.

While he should be focusing on that thought. The logical sense that you must know who he is; hence why you've hidden all his belongings and why you're holding a baseball bat for defence, or the fact that you must've called the police by now. But no, his mind is focused on who you are, why you've brought him into your apartment to avoid death, and how those little shorts look on you. Those little black shorts, that tank top, and that big knitted cardigan.

So what if he's about to get arrested, he loves this sight.

"You brought me here?" He asks, watching the way you nod your head.

"You were bleeding out near a pile of trash, and while I considered leaving you for dead, I figured that I could get something out of saving your life." You explain nonchalantly, well as nonchalant as you can given that you've invited a known criminal into your house.

"Who do you work for?" He questions. There are always upcoming rivals or new recruits circling the scene, they love dirty work and favours – an eye for an eye – and will extort, abuse, and come up with the worst reparations. While you don't look threatening at all, especially in that little outfit, he can't underestimate you.

"Specter and Hastings, the law firm." You reply, causing him to laugh out of pure irony. Out of everyone he could have gotten entwined with, it had to be a lawyer. The universe really loves to play games on him, doesn't it?

"What do you want?" He sighs, "Names? Operations? You want me to snitch?" He'd rather die than rat out his friends, his family, just cuff him and take him down to the station because he's not speaking.

"No." You say, "I want safety." A flash of curiosity flashes across his face, allowing you to elaborate. "I want to make sure that wherever I go will be unharmed, untouched, or fall victim to whatever wars you guys get into. I want to be left out of danger, and never have to worry about getting followed home, mugged, or stabbed. I want the guarantee of safety... for my silence."

"What?"

"Is it so hard to understand?" You huff, "I save your life, you look out for mine. And in doing so, I will pretend that I didn't potentially break a law by not turning you in, I will turn a blind eye and ignore that tonight ever happened."

She's looking out for herself. He can't blame her. If anyone were to find out that she left him for dead, she would be a target. However, as someone whose job literally regards the law, you can't blame him for thinking you're hypocritical and maybe the slightest bit untrustworthy. If you can't even stick by your career, how can he expect you not to snitch on him?

"So?" You say, "Is that a good arrangement?"

"I can't guarantee anything sweetheart," he claims.

"Fine, then can you at least keep the stabbings out of this neighbourhood?" You question, "When I get home at night, I'd rather not come across another bloody body and risk getting more blood on my couch out of fear of being targeted."

That he can do. He can tell the guys to avoid this particular area, in exchange for a stranger – who happens to be a lawyer – that saved his life. Not to mention, you didn't call the cops, didn't turn him in, and you're supposedly open to turning a blind eye. In regards to the blood he got on your couch, he can easily fix that. He nods, "That I can do." There's no reason why he should deny anything, you already know he's part of the Foxes – that's the only reason you bothered saving him – and you are well aware about the culture and how no good deed goes without payment.

"Okay, great." You nod, resting the baseball bat against the frame, you've negotiated poorly, and your terms and conditions are promised to be met. Now, you can move along with your life. "Excuse me for a moment," you say, disappearing back into your bedroom to gather up all the things you took from his pockets.

In your short-lived absence, the man glances over at the painkillers and glass of water on the ottoman. He grabs the packet, reading the warning on the bottom half of the box that informs the users of the small percentage of codeine and its addictive properties, only to ignore it and swallows down the pill. It's drugstore painkillers, so of course, it's not going to be the strongest but when it kicks in, it'll help.

You return holding his things, hanging them to him before sitting on the curved back armchair next to the couch. You are unsure of what to do, or say to the brunette. You've never been put in a situation where a gang member is sitting in your apartment, wounded, and you've offered up your silence in turn of safety. Is it time for you to kick him out, or should you try to make conversation?

He, on the other hand, glances down at his phone, texting away to his friends about what happened and how he'll be back soon. There's no doubt that they're all mad about the situation, how he got ambushed by their rivals, and left by a pair of trash bags to bleed out. Though, it's not all that bad, he got saved by a pretty girl who graces him with skimpy shorts and a tank top that loves to plague his imagination. Better yet, this girl happens to be a lawyer, and if he plays his cards right, he can get a run down of loopholes and secure defence.

"So, do I get a name?" You ask, wrapping your cardigan closer around your body. "Or is that confidential? I'm not going to rat you out, I'm barely a lawyer, let alone a narc. And I need a solid ally in case anyone part of your... um, group ambushes me."

"We're allies now?"

"Are you going to give me a name or what?"

You've already seen his face, and he doubts you'll ever be able to say anything to the authorities without ratting yourself out in the process. Also, he's sure he's never going to see you again, or the maximalist, messy design of your apartment... including the row of CD's and records that you keep in that bookshelf despite being in the age of digital streaming.

"You can call me Rin," half a name, but one nonetheless. "Yeah, Rin is good, or Suna, whatever floats your boat." If he could, he'd try and leave, but he doubts he's in a good enough physical state to do so. Also, being stuck in an apartment with a pretty girl makes him want to stay even more. "Do I get a name from you?"

"No."

"Whatever you say sweetheart," Suna shrugs. "So... a lawyer, what made you go down that route?" He questions, wanting to get his mind off the unbearable ache in his body and sharp pain on his side, as he lays back down on the couch. Might as well get some information on you while he's here.

"I'm doing it for the money." You reply, crossing one leg over the other – unaware of how his eyes follow your movements – as you lean back against the seat, finding some sort of strange comfort in talking to a criminal. "I'm an associate, and in ten years I hope to make partner and move out of this place to somewhere closer to my job. I'm aiming for an apartment on the upper east side, maybe west."

"Is that all?" He hums, watching as you glare at him, "Just for the money?"

"Isn't that why we do anything?" You remark, "For the money, so we can sustain ourselves and live. And it's not like I'm doing court law, or criminal justice, I'm mainly interested in business law – contract and tort law – which is what my firm focuses on, including divorce law, because that's where all the money is."

"So, you're just a lawyer who conveniently knows how to bandage up a wound and goes around saving gang members?" Suna comments, "Oh, and how can I forget the whole trading a life thing for safety."

"Well, it's better than running around on the streets causing havoc." You retort, "Besides, becoming a lawyer is in my blood, meaning both my parents are lawyers and I was told as a young girl that I'd be a good one. Whether or not that was a compliment, can be debated. It's a stable career, a respectable one, and once I move up the ranks, I'll be able to order myself town cars."

"And law is something you really want to do?"

You're quiet for a moment before getting up to walk to your kitchen to brew yourself a cup of tea, "Yes. It is. I don't see what else I could do; the arts are a dying career where only one in a million makes a name for themselves, I don't plan on being the next big entrepreneur, and I hated biology and anything medical." You flip on the kettle, hearing it begin to boil as you dig through your tea bags. "Besides, law seemed easy enough, and there's nothing wrong with sitting through prenuptial meetings."

Suna feels a lot better about getting trapped with a lawyer now. He was initially scared of getting trapped with a potential narc with a six-foot pole up their ass, but you, you're just like every other sleazebag lawyer who's in it for the money. It's refreshing.

"Yeah, and I guess there's that whole thing of justice, but I don't even work in that field." You continue, "The justice system is fucked up anyway, and why would I want to contribute to that? I mean, I could get an innocent life out of prison but then again, I could fuck up and let a guilty person run free or risk them getting a reduced sentence. But, I don't work in that type of field, I just praise the people who do."

You wait for the kettle to finish boiling, and once it does, you pour the water into your mug, adding in honey or sugar into the mix before walking back to the living room. Not before grabbing a bag of chips from your shelf, tossing it at him. He is a guest, can't be that rude.

Reluctantly, Suna accepts it. He hasn't been around you long, but the way you've abandoned your baseball bat and returned all his belongings must mean you don't see him as that big of a threat. Well, how could you? You saw him at his weakest, and he hasn't given you a reason to be afraid... or he hopes he hasn't. Additionally, you're not that much of a threat either, you're smart enough to get through law school, attend an ivy, and work as an associate at a well-known firm in the city. And while he doesn't see much of what you do in your private life, he can see the few small framed photographs on the lamp tables next to him.

He can see you partying with friends, clearly drunk at the time when the photograph was taken, which must mean that you do know how to have fun in whatever spare time you have. Also, your refusal to give him a name eliminates the idea of him ever searching you up online. Meaning, whatever worries he's supposed to have can easily be debunked.

"So, what exactly is your role?" You ask.

"I work in the background, I help plan out whatever, I stay on guard, I'm there to protect them." He explains as vaguely as he can, not wanting to give the gorey details of his role or job description. By the way you nod, it's clear you accept that fact since you don't bat an eye or demand an explanation. Both of you know that the less you know the better. "Are you not scared of me?"

You can't blame him for wondering. Usually, you'd be terrified or the slightest bit frightened, but enough has happened tonight to make talking to a criminal the most normal thing. However, he's not exactly the worst presence. Sure, you can see the way he's looking at you, feel his gaze burn into your skin, how they trail up and down your body – and while it gets a piece of your heart racing, at least you know that he isn't planning on harming you.

"No." You shake your head, "I mean, you probably would scare me if I were to be walking alone on the street at this time of night, and I would definitely be terrified if you happened to be with all your friends. But you're alone, in my apartment, I can see your face, and you're wounded. You can't hurt me, at this point in time, I'm a lot stronger than you."

Unfortunately, you make a good point. He doubts he can walk comfortably, let alone act as a proper threat. "Right, of course," he hums, noticing the obvious blood stain on your couch. "Sorry about that, sweetheart." He comments, "I'll get you a new couch."

"Good," you say, biting back a smile. "I'd prefer one in cream, or even this light grey. In terms of style, I'd like one with a wider back and comfy cushions – like a cloud couch – if you can find one that will fit this apartment, that'd be great."

Suna's lips twitch up in a smile as he listens to you give him a detailed description, you avoid his eyes, staring down at the steam coming out of your mug. He tries to sit up to get your attention before it fades away – and for the act of dramatics, he lets out an exaggerated groan, which causes you to rush towards him – you place your mug on the lamp table behind you and crawl onto the floor in front of him.

You push him back down onto the couch, the force being more painful than when he tried to get up, you lift his shirt up to examine the damage you poorly tried to cover up, it looks fine physically, but you can't imagine what he's feeling. "I can't do much, as I said, I'm not a licensed medical professional." You say, moving down his stained shirt. Your touch ignites a trail of flames along his abdomen that takes all his willpower to fight.

"At least, I'm alive and not curled up by a pile of trash." He remarks.

"Yeah, but who's to say that's going to happen again?" You question, "Next time you get into a situation like this, I can't guarantee that someone will be there to patch you up in time."

"If it's not you patching me up, I don't want to live."

"Oh," you say, surprised, backing up from him. "Well, that doesn't give you an excuse to show up to my doorstep all bloody if it does end up happening again."

It has been a week since you've seen Suna.

Last friday you were nursing a gang member back to life with the promise of safety for silence, and a new couch – both of which you aren't sure you're going to get anytime soon. Instead, you still clutch your taser while you walk home, and you've done your best to wash the stain on the couch cushion. However, nothing is getting rid of that disgusting, faded stain, so you've opted to flip it over and hope time will make you forget.

The individual lamps and overhead lights illuminate the apartment, the candles flames are burning– casting a mixed scent of florals, vanilla, and lavender – creating the perfect ambiance for a Friday night in.

You sigh, collecting a mountain of rice – from your ready-made curry – on your spoon, curled up on your couch, gaze fixed on the television that plays an old show you were obsessed with in your teens. Beside you, is a glass of wine filled with ice cubes, and the bottle is placed on the floor awaiting refill. What else is there for you to do than stay home on a Friday night?

"Previously on Pretty Little Liars," you hear play through the speakers, shoving a mountain of food into your mouth, "It's Mona– Hanna won so Mona loses..."

You sink down into the couch, suddenly engrossed in the recap. It's been a while since you've had time to catch up on television, so the recaps serve a well-needed purpose to remind you of the over-the-top drama and plethora of plotholes. There is nothing better than unwinding after a long, long, week at work. Grabbing the wine glass, ice cubes clinking as you bring the drink up to your lips.

It's an odd combination, putting ice cubes in wine– that's unheard of – but you don't mind the diluted taste, also, you aren't the biggest fan of wine, it just seemed classier than making yourself a sad looking cocktail. Though, given the fact you're watching one of the more questionable teen mystery dramas, wine with ice does not seem like the worst situation.

You could have easily gone out, but all your friends are all too tired to go out, and drinks at bars are far too expensive. And let's be honest, going out by yourself is possibly one of the most depressing things a person could do, also that would mean walking home by yourself intoxicated. Obviously, that's not the smartest or safest decision, given the current rise in crime.

Engrossed in the show, absentmindedly feeding yourself until you're scraping the plastic container with your spoon picking up scraps. Sighing, you slide off the sofa, dragging your feet towards the kitchen where you toss out the empty container and dump your spoon into the sink. Half of your attention is still focused on the television, not wanting to miss anything going on.

Drifting back towards the couch, leaning against the armrest as you refill your wine glass, bringing the bitter alcohol to your lips and tasting it on your tongue. This will be your second glass of the night, the first glass came and went as quickly as the previous episode did.

A loud knock on the door sounds throughout the apartment, causing you to choke on your drink. Frightened, you place the glass down on the lamp table, pushing yourself away from the couch as cautiously and quietly as you can. Walking on your tiptoes back to the kitchen, reaching into a drawer for a knife.

Of course you're not going to open the door, you're not stupid. You're simply going to sit against it, clutching the knife until whoever is on the other side goes away... like a responsible, intelligent, adult. It could be someone with the wrong address, despite how persistent they are on knocking. And no criminal would think of knocking either!

Maybe you should turn off the television, give the illusion that no is home, or alternatively, you could turn the volume all the way up and drown out the sound of their fist pounding against wood. Nevertheless, hiding out in front of this door with a knife seems like the safest option. If things go wrong, and the intruder does break in, you can stab them and leave their body on the street.

Crime isn't news around this area, unfortunate things occur all the time! And the police, being police, won't bother stepping in. It's an accidental murder in a bad part of town, or another victim to gang violence, they won't bother finding out it was a kitchen knife that caused the death. Morally, will it crush you? Yes. It will.

You lean back against the door, the continuous knocks do not falter... Until they do, you hear them rest their head against the wood. Maybe they've finally given up. Slowly, you get up from the floor, the faint noise of police sirens flying by. You backpedal until your back hits the counter, reluctantly, you place the knife on the surface behind you.

Heart racing in your chest, then you hear it. You hear him. "Sweetheart, open the door." His voice is muffled, but a simple piece of wood is not going to hide the exhaustion lacing his tone. "Please," he adds.

You hope that your home isn't the new hideout for gang members running from the police, but you can't stop yourself from quickly striding towards the front door and swinging it open. "Oh my god," you gasp, catching him in your arms before he plummets onto the floor. Stumbling back, you quickly catch your balance and drop him on the couch – the same way you did last week – where he falls back, arms resting on the back cushions.

Apparently, Suna has taken an involuntary liking towards you and insists on showing up outside your apartment, and door every time he gets hurt. At least, this time around, he's not shot, stabbed, or badly wounded, he just looks a little... beat up. Busted lip, and black eye that's beginning to form. You know this is not the time, but god does he look so good.

Lord knows what he's gotten himself into, why he's bruised or why out of all the places he could run, he ran here... to you. What happened? Why is he suddenly out of breath, unable to stand, and exhausted on your couch? You climb over him, straddling his lap, and grab his face between your fingers, forcing him to look at you. "What the hell have you gotten yourself into?" You huff, slapping the side of his face to jolt him awake, "This is no time for a nap Rin, you need to tell me what happened."

Even in this dazed state of mind, even after running five blocks, being chased by both the police and the Crows as a distraction while his team can get away. Getting cornered, beat up (not as bad as the others), picking the lock to get into your building, then running up the stairs, and waiting for you to let him in. He can still appreciate the sight in front of him, including those shorts, his hands running up your thighs, leaning his head back while his lips turn up into a smirk.

"Sorry, sweetheart, I had to run, and believe it or not, this is the safest place for me." He mutters, sitting up to lean in close to you. "And I know you won't refuse me," he hums. Suna's breath is hot against yours, his touch running up and down your thighs setting a fire to burn and a shiver to involuntarily run down your spine. He kicks off his shoes, opting to make himself comfortable on your couch.

"This is not your safe haven," you scoff, pressing a hand flat on his chest to push him back from you as you climb off his lap. You storm over to the kitchen, opening the small freezer hatch on your fridge to pull out a frozen bag of peas for his eye. Sure, it's not your job to care for him, but you can't help doing it – as if it has been engraved in your memory after one experience. You toss the frozen peas at him, which he luckily knows what they're for. "I did you a favour, which you have yet to return, by the way."

He holds the frozen bag of peas up to his eye, this is not the warm welcome he's been expecting, and for your information he has kept up one side of his deal. He has kept your street a no-go zone, and he has been making sure that you are safe. Sure, his methods are a bit stalkerish, he's been trailing you to and from work – lurking from the shadows and wiping out any potential threats that come your way. In terms of the new couch... he's working on it.

"Don't tell me that you're running from the police," you say, beginning to pace back and forth in your living room. "What do you think you're doing?" You exclaim, "You can't keep coming here to hide from the police! Do they know what you look like? Do they know that you came here? Do you know that my entire career can be ruined?"

"Calm down sweetheart," Suna hums. "No one knows I'm here, you're fine. And speaking of the police... yeah, I'm running from them, but I managed to get away through a couple short cuts. Trust me, you're safe." He stands from the couch, one long stride taken to reach you, his hands running down your arms in a somewhat reassuring manner. With one hand tilting up your chin, "And I wanted to see you."

His eyes are mesmerising, a perfect combination of green, yellow, and grey. It's hard to not melt under their gaze. Your hand wraps around his wrist, moving his touch away from your face before turning on your heel to walk towards your bedroom. He hates to see you leave, but he loves to watch you walk away. Maybe this is the universe repaying him for almost dying, it sent an angel in the form of you.

"Wanted to see me," you mutter to yourself, packing up the mess on your bed. The files, loose papers, highlighters, notes, and your laptop. You move them to sit on your cluttered vanity. "As flattering as that is," you continue, "I'd rather you come see me when you're not running from law enforcement. You owe me."

"Sorry to add insult to injury, but I was wondering if I could camp out here for the night?" Suna asks, leaning against the doorframe of your room. He knows you're not going to deny him refuge, whether you want to admit it or not. You don't have it in your heart to leave him out in the rain. Even if you want him gone, he's not going to leave. He's never been that good at taking hints – hence the black eye and busted lip. "Just for the night."

"One night." You sigh, "Only if –" there's always a catch "– you avoid robbing my bank, and stay clear of where I work, and make sure that everyone knows that. And no more attracting police to this side of town," you list. "And if you're going to stay here frequently, I'm going to need some sort of compensation."

"Is that all?"

"Yes." You nod, "now," you begin pushing the brunette back into the living room and onto the couch. Since he's here, may as well check up on how that old stab wound is going. You force him down onto the sofa, his back hitting the cushions – the wind escaping his lungs – as you lift up his shirt. There's still a nasty cut that's bound to turn into an even worse scar, but at least it's healing correctly.

"You sure are quite aggressive," he comments, propping his head up with his hands as he looks up at you. "I don't mind, kinda like it." He purrs, softly laughing at the way you pull his shirt back down and storm up off the ground, grabbing your wine glass and downing the rest of the contents. "I was just teasing babe, no need to overreact."

"Are you aware that you're an idiot?" You comment, placing your glass and the wine bottle on the kitchen counter.

"Do you like that I'm an idiot?" He retorts. He's got a bit of a little infatuation with you. A hot shot associate with a morally grey high ground, and a weakness for criminals like him. It is not everyday a pretty normal girl like you fixes him up and lets him into the apartment while he's running from the cops.

"The same way I like how I continuously find myself harbouring a fugitive." You reply, "It could be better. And can you please either use the frozen peas or put them back in the freezer."

You have better things to do! Sure, the situation could be worse. At least Suna is decent to look at, and he's alright company who doesn't want to kill you, and you have felt the slightest bit safer on your walks to and from work. Though, it's not like you're thrilled to have him in your apartment.

He gets up from the couch, places the peas back where they belong, then slides in next to you. He grabs the wine bottle, taking a swig from the bottle. You watch him intently, the way his Adam's apple moves, the beginning traces of a bruise forming around his eye, and the cut on his lip. He still wears that stupid leather jacket, but at least there's no blood on his hands, legs, or torso. Suna glances at you from the corner of his eye, holding the bottle firmly in his hand, "Take a picture. It lasts longer."

"I would," you say, "but that would mean proving a direct affiliation with you. And lord knows if you ever get caught, I'd rather die than testify in court and risk losing all respect I have in this industry."

"I get it," he shrugs, "I'm bad news, but that doesn't mean I'm necessarily a bad person. I mean, you make money off people's brokens marriages, shouldn't that equate to something? I think that we both do bad things, but we're not bad people."

"Comparing me to you is a low blow," you snort. "That's like comparing apples and oranges."

"They're both fruit aren't they? They both grow on trees, they both make juice." Suna argues, "One is sure, significantly better than the other, but that all depends on personal preference."

You meet his eyes, seeing nothing other than the greyish-green hues. He's got that tough exterior that can draw any girl toward him – including you – the danger that people write about, the allure and flirty personality that makes him less of an asshole and more human. He is the fallen angel that the universe sent to you as a form of twisted karma and dilemma of morals that cross a line. He's beautiful, prideful, a criminal, but has got a strong sense of loyalty and protection. Why else will he make himself the scapegoat to every situation?

"Yeah, well, anyone with a brain can tell who's the better one of the both of us."

"If this is about breaking the law," he says, placing the bottle down on the counter. He steps in front of you, trapping you between his arms, pushing you back against the counter as his body presses against yours. "You're breaking a lot by being here with me, hiding me from the law, trading silence for safety, I'm sure there's something in the constitution that you've broken by not turning me in." He lowers his voice, dipping his head down to yours, "I'm sure if I string enough together, you can be charged with aiding and abetting."

"That's one thing out of the many covering your roster."

He bends down, lips brushing against your own. Heart pounding against your chest. He's so close. Remnants of his cologne fill your senses; oak, wood, musk, sweet amber, cardamom, raspberry. He's addictive in all the ways he shouldn't be. A real fallen angel. Beautiful, perfect, but dangerous, treacherous, and duplicitous. But what does that make you? You're addicting, the light in his dark tunnel, his bittersweet obsession that he cannot indulge in.

"You don't care." He rasps, "If you did, you would have kicked me out. You like me, you like having a dirty little secret, you fucking revel in it."

You don't respond, verbally that is. You break the small gap between the two of you. He reciprocates the action, deepens the kiss, presses you further back against the counter. A hand gripping your hip, while the other travels up your neck, holding under your jaw tight between his fingers. His body against yours, fingers wrapping around the belt loops of his jeans trying desperately to pull him closer. It's messy, driven, and lustful.

Your hands travel under his shirt, feeling the burning skin and the shiver that runs down his spine. The hand he has on your hips, his fingers dig harder into your side while the one around your neck shifts to the nape, reaching up to tug at the roots of your hair. The throaty moan that he elicits from you sends him into overdrive, fuck you're addictive. He wants you, so bad. He needs you.

Palms placed flat on his stomach you step forward, pushing him back onto the couch. He takes in the sight of you, standing over him in those little shorts and tank top that hugs your body so well. You climb on top of him, straddling his lap, and his hands instinctively run up the back of your thighs, sliding under your shorts. Rough hands making themselves comfortable, holding the flesh in his hands, squeezing hard as he helps you grind down onto him. He's hard as a fucking rock, and your moving against him so needy. The friction against your clit, slow and tortuous, small whimpers and staggered breaths that Suna swallows.

Your hands move to move the leather jacket off his body, which he tosses across the living room, leaving him in a black muscle tee that shows off all the hidden, scattered tattoos on his arms you've never had the pleasure of seeing. His fingers grab the front of your tank top, tugging down the fabric to expose you to him. His cold hand cupping your tit, the pad of his thumb running over a hardened nipple as goosebumps scatter down your body and you press down further into the bulge in his jeans.

"Fuck," he groans at your reaction, breaking away from your lips to kiss down your jaw, neck, collarbones, before his lips wrap around your chest. His tongue pressing against you, teeth grazing your skin, while his hand continues to work and massage against the other.

Your back arches, hands tangling themselves in his brown hair, continuously grinding against him as his leaves scatter hickey across your chest. "Sweetheart, you're killing me." He murmurs, reconnecting your lips together. You hum against him, lifting your arms in the air as he pulls off your top, throwing it across your apartment before he does the same with his shirt.

You begin to kiss down his chest, his torso, his stomach, falling down to the floor in front of him – between his legs – as you undo his belt. Suna's eyes fixed on you, the sweetly dangerous glimmer in your eyes as you unbutton and unzip his jeans. He lips his hips, allowing you to pull them down – jeans and briefs – letting his clothes drop to the floor. He shudders the second your hand wraps around his dick, head dropping back and hands gripping onto your hair.

Wrapping your lips around the sensitive tip, you tease the spot hearing desperate whimpers escape his throat. Tongue flat against him, head beginning to bob back and forth, cheeks hollowing out as you literally suck the soul out of him. The salty taste of pre-cum on your tongue, his hands firmly entwined in your hair as he lets out a strain of whimpers, bucking his hips up, controlling your movements making you take him deeper in your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat repeatedly.

Tears begin to prickle in your eyes. Head moving back and forth at a faster pace, his hands knotted in your hair as he takes control, fucking your mouth. Looking up through teary eyes, laying eyes on a sinful sight. His abdomen flexing, head thrown back, eyes shut, and Adam's apple moving at every repressed whimper and moan. You grip onto his thighs as he increases his pace.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Breathless moans coming out in repeated pleas that chase a high. He's so close, impatient, and seeking a heavy and desperate release. "Just like that baby, keep going."

You don't stop, you continue as a mess of fallen tears, pre-cum and saliva. You can't breathe, throat filled with his cock. He fucks your throat, using you for pleasure. He fucks your mouth, swollen head hitting the back of your throat, shuddering as you to swallow or gasp for air. You feel his dick twitch, and in seconds a hot load is shot down your throat and his grip on you loosens. You swallow down his cum, tongue and lips cleaning him up. Once, your lips remove themselves from his cock, he wastes no time to pull you up and reconnect your lips, tasting him on your tongue. You stand from your knees, and he pulls down your shorts along with the simple black panties, then pulls you down onto the couch, laying you on your back.

He hovers over you, hand wrapping itself around your throat as he kisses you. The other, spreads your leg, calloused rough fingers pressing against your cunt. Using the arousal to rub against your clit, a harsh play of light and rough. Fingers pressing hard against your clit, causing a strained moan to sound through the living room, he rubs against the bud. Playing between teasing movements, to forceful mechanisms. He's fast and slow, teasing you, edging you.

"Rin," you muster out, biting down on his lip which pushes him to give you what you need. Working his fingers swiftly, skillfully, roughly against your clit. You squirm beneath him, he's vicious against you, his free hand kneading your tit in a hard grasp. "Fuck, Rin." You moan, chest rising and falling, as he quickens his pace. Eyes rolling to the back of your head, you grip onto the armrest of the couch, mouth agape.

Legs twitching, as he brings you to an insatiable climax. His fingers are covered in your slick. He brings them up to his mouth, getting a taste of what he's missing out of. He doesn't waste time, wrapping your legs around his shoulders before he buries himself in your cunt. Lips wrapping themselves around your clit, sucking on it, his tongue moving at a rapid pace. He feels how sensitive you are. Fingers digging into your thighs, sucking your clit into his mouth.

You're a mess, a writhing, mess. And the way he looks up at you through half lidded eyes, buried between your thighs. You sink your hands into his hair, looking for something to hold onto. A groan rumbles in his throat, sending you farther over the edge. He increases his pace, devouring you like a starved man who hasn't eaten in years. He's pushing you over the edge, your heels digging into his back, pulling at his hair, forcing him deeper into you.

To add fuel to the fire, he thrusts two fingers inside you, curling into your sweet spot that has you bucking your hips into his mouth. He pumps his fingers in and out of you, perfectly matching the pace of his tongue. He continues until he feels you come undone, pleasure and heat clouding your vision as he pulls away from you. He examines the sight, leaning in close to you.

"I need to feel you." He pleads, the blood already rushing back to his dick, "I need you sweetheart."

You nod, "Please." Whispering, "It's fine, I'm on the pill." You reassure.

He almost collapses right there and then, letting out a whimper as he slides into you. Feeling you raw and whole, he's going crazy, losing his mind at the way you suck him in. Your walls around his dick, warm and so good that he could come right there and then. His find is spinning, he's going absolutely feral over being in you. He slowly moves out, before bottoming out, stealing your breath in the process. That's all he needed, the feeling of having you grip around him.

Suna thrusts into you, picking up a faster speed and your ragged breaths urging him on. He revels in the way your tits bounce, his movements causing the sinful shake of your body. Your nails digging into his back, scratching the skin. If he could save this as a permanent memory in his mind, he would, and he'd replay it over and over again in his dreams. He bottoms out, rolling his hips each time he does so, thrusting in and out at a faster speed and pace.

He then pulls out, the lack of touch jolting you back from your daze, only for him to flip you over onto your stomach, harsh grip on your hips as he lifts your ass in the air. He grips onto the flesh, holding it in his palms while he tugs them towards him in a big thrust. You let out a moan, face buried into the couch cushions, as he pounds into you.

Dick reaches deep into your cunt, watches you shake under him, the couch shakes, and the lamps shake. He holds both your wrists in his hands, pinning them behind your back, as he pushes himself faster, rougher, crazier than he did before. The sound of skin slapping on skin echoing throughout the apartment, mixed in with your strained whimpers and his throaty groans. "You like this?" He mutters.

This is so much better than he imagined. All the nights he spent with his hand wrapped around his dick in the shower and in bed. The thought of you crumbling beneath him, moaning out his name, becoming nothing but putty underneath him. The thought of him pounding into you relentlessly, feeling you bare and raw, the way your walls wrap around his cock. Imagination never could have prepared him for this, it's so much better than he imagined.

You're so wet around him. He fucks into you, in and out so quickly that you can't even grasp onto the feeling despite your cunt quivering and tightening around him every time he fills you. He lands a hard slap on your ass, only to rub over the red spot, roughly massaging and kneading the flesh. Suna continues to go harder, faster, more feral, moving both your hips to meet. Back is arched and he pushes you further down into the cushions, if that's even possible.

"You're no saint sweetheart," his hips stuttering, "you fucking love getting fucked dirty by a criminal." He rasps, tugging you up by your arms, whispers close to your ear sending a shiver down your spine. "Tell me how much you love it," he instructs. "Go on."

"I love it." You breathe out. Suna forcefully pushes you back down onto the couch, harshly pounding into you, "Fuck, so good."

"No one's ever gonna fuck you as good as I will. I'm going to make you mine, I'm going to corrupt you, I'll protect you." His voice falters at the feeling of you tightening around him, his cock twitching in response. "Fuck, you're mine. Mine only, and I'll fucking kill anyone who comes near you."

You listen to him, losing all sense of strength in your body. You're so close, he knows you are. "Rin, please keep going, I'm so close." You whimper, and he endures, picking up his pace and pushing into you faster, deeper, and harder until you become a limp mess, tightening around him, giving him the greenlight to release.

He cums inside you, white liquid filling you and dripping out as he pulls out. Your hips fall to the couch, as you flip over in time for him to collapse on top of you. If you didn't need a new couch before, you definitely need one now. His arms wrap under your body, he lays between your legs, head resting on your rising and falling chest, hearing your heartbeat in his ears. You brush your fingers through his hair.

He meant what he said. You're his, and he will fucking kill anyone who comes near you.

#suna rintarou #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu suna #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu scenarios #suna rintarou x reader #suna smut #suna rintarou x you #suna rintaro x reader #suna x reader #suna rintarō #suna rintarou smut #suna rintaro haikyuu #suna rintaro x y/n #suna rintaro fic #✰ workie works

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edmundspevensea · 11 months

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𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑

in which y/n is done with pregnancy, but jack comes to the rescue.

warnings; pregnancy, excessive vomiting, hospitals, make out session

Seven months ago, you were over the moon about having a baby. Jack and you had been trying for a bit before getting pregnant, and both of you had been ecstatic when you flipped the test over at 7:00 in the morning. You took three more just to be sure, and when those all came back positive, you and Jack both screamed so loudly that Luke had run into the bathroom with a baseball bat, ready to strike in case an intruder was present.

But that was seven months ago. Now eight months along, everything was killing you. Your feet hurt, your back hurt, and you had more heartburn than you had ever had over the span of your entire life, but that wasn’t the worst of it. In your first trimester, you had been diagnosed with hyperemesis gravidarum, also known as excessive morning sickness. While most usually get over morning sickness before the beginning of their second trimester, you were well into your third trimester and were still vomiting almost nonstop. You were extremely ready for the pregnancy to be over.

It was definitely scary. Earlier in the pregnancy, you had vomited so much that you had become extremely dehydrated. So dehydrated that you had passed out on the floor of the bathroom while Jack and Luke were at morning practice. When the two boys came home that day, they were greeted by an eerily quiet house. While Jack checked your guys’ bedroom for any trace of you, Luke found you face down on the cold tile of the bathroom. The next thing you knew, you woke up in a hospital bed with an IV in your arm, Jack’s hand holding yours, his worried eyes scanning over your frame. He never wanted to leave you alone after that accident, but you eventually managed to convince him that you’d be okay so that he wouldn’t take too much time away from his job.

In this moment, however, as you were lying on the couch with a bucket in your hand and the Devils game on the TV, you wish you hadn’t been able to do that. The boys had a home game against the Stars, and were down early on. They managed to tie the game up with goals from Nico and Graves, but that didn’t do you any favors. Currently, the boys were in the second overtime of the game and you were absolutely miserable. It was 11:00 PM and all you wanted was Jack. Your prayers were answered not a minute later when Marino scored, ending the game with a final score of 4-3.

Not even ten minutes later, you received a text from your boyfriend: see you soon baby. i love you.

You smiled slightly as you gripped the bucket closer and turned off the TV. All you wanted was the pregnancy to end and to be able to meet your sweet baby. But you knew he or she wasn’t coming for another month or so, and that made you want to cry. As much as you tried to hold it in, you simply couldn’t. Tears fell out of your eyes as all you could manage to focus on was the discomfort you were feeling. You were so done.

You were so worked up that you didn’t even hear the door open. When you finally noticed the figure dumping his shoes off at the front door, you sat up as quickly as you could and attempted to wipe your tears. The figure, whom you realized was Luke, gave you a look of sympathy before coming over to you and giving you a brotherly kiss on the top of your head, “Jacky’s just putting some of his gear away. I’ll go get him for you,” he whispered, cleaning up the empty water bottles you had finished shortly beforehand.

“Thank you, Lukey,” you sniffled. He nodded softly and went out to the garage to grab his older brother. You waited as patiently as you could for your boyfriend, who came inside with his younger brother on his trail. Luke went upstairs to his room as Jack slowly made his way towards you, his eyes gentle and his arms outstretched for you.

“Oh baby,” he cooed, gently pulling you into his strong arms as he sat down on the couch. You placed your head onto his shoulder as the tears began streaming down your face again, “tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m so done,” you cried, tearfully looking into your boyfriend’s eyes, “I can’t do it anymore, Jacky. The morning sickness is killing me, and I can’t deal with the heartburn any longer! And my feet hurt and my back hurts… and I can’t take it anymore! I just want our baby to be here!”

Jack looked at you sadly and placed a sweet, gentle kiss on the top of your head. He grabbed your chin softly and forced you to look him in the eyes, “I know baby, and I’m so sorry you have to feel this way. I want to meet our baby more than anything, but you’re doing an amazing job, sweetheart. I need you to know that, alright? Our baby is not going to have a more amazing mother than you. We just need to wait a little while longer.”

“But what if I’m not a good mother, Jack? What if I’m a terrible mother? I want to give our baby the best life possible but I’m terrified that I’m going to end up like my mother, and I—” you were cut off by an extremely passionate kiss on the lips. As cliche as it sounds, it seemed as if all your worries fluttered away at that moment. After a few seconds Jack pulled away, but you pulled him right back in. After worrying yourself sick for the past few hours, this was the one thing that was reassuring you.

After a pretty heavy, long-lasting make out session, Jack pulled away. Smirking, he whispered, “Feel better, sweetheart?”

You laughed quietly, “Much better.”

“Good,” Jack smiled, “Now, I’ve been thinking about names, and I think I have the perfect one if we have a little boy.”

This peaked your attention. You and Jack didn’t know what you were having yet, as you both agreed that you wanted to find out the sex of your baby at the birth, “Oh yeah? I want to hear it.”

He smiled again, this time even wider than last, “Ellis James. I figured that Ellis is close enough to Ellen and James is my dad’s first name, and I think it flows pretty well together. What do you think?”

You smiled, wrapping yourself around his left arm. Although you hadn’t come up with many names yet, you both agreed that you wanted your baby to be named after close friends and family, and Jack captured it perfectly, “I love it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Speaking of, I have a name I love if we have a girl,” you whispered, peering into his beautiful eyes.

Jack raised his eyebrows at you, his face full of curiosity, “What is it?”

“Lucia Quinn,” you spoke up, looking at Jack for his reaction. When you saw his grin grow, you knew you could continue, “Obviously she’ll have Quinn’s name as her middle name, and Lucia is a female version of Luke, so we’ve got both of your brothers covered.”

“I love it.”

“Yeah?” you asked hopefully.

“Yeah.”

Boy, you couldn’t wait to have this baby. But, as opposed to the reasons you were thinking about earlier in the day, these new reasons were pretty good ones. That’s all you wanted. And as you focused on the look in Jack’s eyes, you knew that’s all he wanted too.

#jack hughes #nhl #new jersey devils #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes imagines #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x y/n #nhl hockey #nhl blurb #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nj devils

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sevcasejay1chicago · 1 month

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Can’t spell panic without pain- Matt, Kelly, Jay

Authors note: This has been a fic that I’ve been working on the past couple of weeks. I was gonna post last week, but I wasn’t happy with it. Hopefully you guys enjoy!

Summary: The boys make sure to take care of their girl when she is panicked and in pain.

Warnings: possible inaccurate medical jargon, anxiety attack, crying, mentions ovary cysts.

—————————

You’ve been having a rough couple of days. More like rough couple of weeks, but it seemed to be getting worse the longer the weekend progressed into the week. Now, on a Wednesday afternoon, you are sitting in your car outside of the house you share with Matt, Kelly, and Jay. Matt and Kelly have today and tomorrow off. Jay got home a bit before you, having left before you when he assumed you had already left or were close behind. Since it’s been long enough for Jay to worry, your phone starts to ring over the speakers in your car. You almost miss it with the ringing in your ears, but you connect the call just before it’s sent to voicemail.

“Hey baby. I figured you’d be home by now.” Jay says casually as Matt and Kelly are heard cooking and talking softly in the background.

“I-I am.” You force out, voice strained with more unleashed tears, you gasp in a breath as you hear Jay curse and tell the others something is wrong.

“Hang on baby.” Jay says, disconnecting the call as he practically jumps down the stairs and sprints to your car with Kelly behind him.

They see the tears as soon as you’re in view. Kelly slides into your passenger seat as Jay opens your door and crouches to your level. They quickly look at each other as they slowly peel your fingers away from the steering wheel.

“Shhhhh. We gotcha now. We gotcha baby.” Kelly whispers, wiping at your tears and testing your skin for a temperature, which he thinks you have. It’s hard to tell if your warm because you are actually running a fever or if it’s because you are upset.

Jay is checking your pulse as Kelly attempts to soothe you. He knows that Matt is getting the first aid kit out of their master bathroom, which is upstairs and in the very back of the house, so he’s not worried about being completely accurate, but he wants to gauge it before he moves you. Currently, your heart rate is pretty high, but steady.

“Come on sweet girl. Let’s get you inside.” Jay says, helping Kelly unbuckle you before he hoists you into his arms. “What’s goin on? Hmm?” Jay whispers to you, but as he suspected, he doesn’t get a verbal response as you whimper like you are in pain.

Kelly pushed the push start button to turn off your car before he grabs your phone and keys, deciding that he will grab your bags later on so that he has time to jog to the door and open it for Jay. Matt is already getting the med bag open, placing a few things on the coffee table. He’s just tossing the necessary equipment onto the coffee table to check your vitals, not knowing what the issue is, but he already has his suspicions.

You have a cyst on your right ovary that has been bothering you for a week and a half now. The boys tried to talk you into staying home, especially after a scary er visit earlier in the week, but you were stubborn and refused to rest when a big case was brought to the intelligence unit.

Jay sat down, cradling you in his arms. He made sure that one arm was accessible for Matt, but he also wanted to make sure you were as comfortable as possible. Kelly was stood not too far off, waiting for something to do and giving Matt space to check you over.

Matt checked your blood pressure and stuck a pulse ox on your finger as Jay whispered softly to you, encouraging you to breath. Jay’s sweet nothings were barely audible to your other two lovers, but they also were barely making it past the still constant ringing in your ears.

“Tachy. BP is a bit high and oxygen is low.” Matt said out loud, quickly running the thermometer over your forehead. “100.3.” Matt read off, tossing everything back in the medical bag.

Jay did his best to calm you down as Kelly retrieved a wash cloth and some fever reducers. Matt sat in your line of sight, lightly rubbing the tears from your face with the pad of his thumbs. Both men were lightly shushing you and whispering sweet nothings in an attempt to calm you down. Eventually, it seemed like you started to respond to what was happening and reached one shaking hand to lay on Jay’s chest. Jay immediately started breathing at a deeper, more even, pace that was easy for you to follow.

“Baby. You gotta tell us what hurts.” Matt whispered, locking eyes with you. “We can’t help if we don’t know whats wrong sweetheart.”

You sucked in a deep breath, curing further into yourself and Jay’s lap. “I-I’m hurting and I c-can’t stop crying.” You whimpered. “It f-feels like a p-panic attack.”

Kelly came back in and immediately knew the problem. “The cyst must be rupturing.” Kelly stated, laying the wash cloth over your neck and offering you a Gatorade with your medicine. “This should help the pain baby girl.”

Matt sighed, laying a gentle hand on your knee. “Okay. Well, we know the drill. Your gonna feel really crappy and emotional for a couple days. However, we will do everything we can to help you feel better, okay baby?” Matt said, taking the hand you offered.

You nodded, leaning back into Jay. “It’s okay to cry sweet girl, but you gotta breath. Okay? Just follow me.” Jay encouraged, kissing the crown of your head as you tried to focus. “You are definitely having a panic attack, but we gotcha now. Your not alone baby.” Jay encourages, kissing your temple.

You started humming, not liking the feeling of your stomach shaking and your lips buzzing. You had gotten yourself worked up so much that the anxiety made you feel like a live wire. You knew that your boys were attempting to ground you, but it was like it was impossible to turn it all off.

“What can we do?” Kelly asked, sitting on the coffee table to get in your line of sight without standing over you. He knows that you get anxious when people stand over you on a good day, so it probably wasn’t advisable today.

“Think you wanna try a popsicle?” Jay asked, nudging your cheek with his nose. “I can feel you shaking, but you aren’t cold, are you baby?”

You shook your head no, not offering a verbal response.

“I need a verbal response sweet girl.” Kelly said, leaning forward expectantly. He knew the more he got you talking, the more likely you were starting to come back down to earth.

“Not cold. Popsicle please.” You whispered, not wanting to use full sentences, but knowing that would get your point across.

Kelly nodded before getting up and jogging into the kitchen for your popsicle. He was back in no time, having cut the plastic open and wrapped the popsicle in a paper towel. “Here princess. It’s a pedialyte popsicle. It should help hydrate you to flush all those toxins out.” Kelly explained, watching as you quickly calmed down as the cold from the popsicle helped focus your brain on the taste and sensation.

“Good girl. We gotcha. It’ll be over before you know it.” Matt praised, laying your favorite blanket in your lap to help calm you further. He knew it would be a long couple of days, but once you calmed down, they could start working on taking the proper steps to ensure a quick recovery.

Tag list:

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@amie134

@lane-rodgers-barnes

@pensfan5871

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#one chicago #one chicago x reader #kelly severide #matt casey #jay halstead #matt casey x reader #fluff #jay halstead x reader #comfort #kelly severide x reader

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goddessmelon · 9 months

Text

Lawrence Oleander x (gender neutral) Reader- Tease

CW: Teasing, sexual content, touching, restraining, oral sex

You went too far.

It’s a Saturday night… though probably late enough to be more like a Sunday morning. You know because it’s one of his nights off. Rain falls lightly against the building, and you kneel to peer out the window to watch droplets slide down the window, heaving a soft sigh of boredom to yourself. A few feet from you, your captor, provider, twisted-love interest (but oh, what are labels?) sits on the floor, his lower back propped up against the metal and mattress of his shoddy futon, and hunched over a thick book. It’s an encyclopedia of some sort that you’ve seen him read from before, the pages lightly water damaged but the bleeding colors not bothering him at all. You watch him as his eyes trail across the page slowly, fixing on an image here and there, his fingers idly tracing the shapes on the paper including the areas that bled. You think you can even catch a hint of a smile here and there.

You can’t help but love moments like these; Lawrence wasn’t exactly a relaxed individual. Ever since he decided to keep you, even after breaking one of your legs and the other foot in a fit of what he considered love and protection, he still seemed constantly on edge by one thing or another: you, work, the outside world, or whatever else went on in his constantly brewing headspace. Seeing him relaxed was nice in a way, but deep down, a slightly meaner part of you wanted to take that mild tranquility away from him yourself, just as he took it away from you all too often. It wasn’t a good idea but… where did all your good ideas get you anyway? He was totally unpredictable. And sitting around with nothing to do, you felt like testing the waters.

So, you sit against the wall to face him fully, holding your head up in your hands and holding a smile. For a while he’s too entranced in his literature to notice, but before he turns a page he looks at you. His lazy eyes meet yours and widen instantly, darting to the floor at your feet as if the eye contact alone equated to touching a burning stove momentarily. His face instantly looks a little flushed and he presses his lips in a fine line. “Stop that,” he says in a voice that must have meant to sound decisive but in reality came out a tad shaky.

“What?” you ask innocently, still looking at his eyes through his downturned lashes. He looks up at you again to check if you had listened to him but upon seeing that you did not, turns to instead look back at his book, his face burning even brighter than before.

“Y-You… you know what!” he sounds frustrated, flustered, voice rising just a bit before falling into silence again.

“I just think you look pretty,” you say honestly, smiling again though sweating a bit internally. You never know what makes him flip.

“Don’t.” He presses his forehead into the palm of his hand, sounding genuinely upset, yet still red in the face. He sounds serious enough for you to drop it though… for now.

But you have some ideas of ways to make him tick. Frankly, it didn’t seem to even matter what you did and what you believed to be something “good” or “bad” for him. Obedience, silence, and acceptance were generally what he needed from you but even then, too much of a good thing drew him to scary extremes. Where would this bring him?

So you let him read, but after a few minutes, he exhales sharply and closes the book, standing up swiftly. He must not be able to focus anymore. It wasn’t uncommon for the scatterbrained lunatic to drop something the second it no longer “felt right.” He goes into the kitchen abruptly and starts to brew something- you hear the water running as you watch his back while he works quietly. In the meantime you end up looking at his plant book yourself, flipping through the photos and diagrams idly. This page on poppies is pretty well loved… you notice a dogear and pull it open to a section on ferns. Some stuff about true leaves… reproduce through spores… a set of diagrams…whatever.

Soon enough, he’s walking back over to you, two cups of steaming liquid in his hands. He sits on the bed this time, his legs a few feet from your head, and holds out one of the cups. “I… want to go to sleep soon,” he says, offering the drink to you. You recognize the familiar scent of lavender radiating from the liquid as you gingerly take the cup from him, alongside something else you couldn’t put your finger on. He’s been making both of you simple herbal teas rather than whatever it was before now that you were somewhat settled in, for lack of a better term. Probably still not completely legal in terms of ingredients, but it wasn’t something that would knock you out on the spot.

You nod in response as you start drinking the tea, enjoying the lightly sweetened mix with what was probably a little bit of honey. Still kind of bitter, but it was a flavor that was growing on you. In between sips you peer over at him, watching as he stares forward with dull eyes as he downs the hot liquid, as if the temperature hardly bothers him. With another mischievous thought, you scoot slightly over and lean onto his legs. He jumps at first, gulping down what he had in his mouth, but after a quick look at you doesn’t make an effort to move. He seems stiff, though. Even though you’ve been physically intimate before, he can never seem to calm down, unless he is the one initiating. It’s cute, in a way… and it’s why you feel this sudden urge to tease him. When he’s looking away again, you reach an arm up and begin to trail it down his thigh lightly, only to yelp when he grabs your wrist, hard, holding up your arm with little effort as he stares at you. You can feel his glare even as you look away with a whimper. Realizing your pain, he drops your wrist and you let your arm fall weakly to the floor. For a moment you both just sit there quietly, until you break the silence. “It’s okay, you didn’t hurt me.”

You look at each other shortly, before he replies quietly. “I… don’t know what you’re… nnn…” Your gaze trails down his body to the obvious tent forming in his sweatpants. When he notices where your eyes are, he clears his throat and puts his hands in his lap to hide it, eyebrows furrowed and face flushed again.

Before giving him the chance to do anything else, you start to limp-crawl away toward the bathroom. “Well! I’ll be getting ready for bed!” you stammer awkwardly. You can’t see if he reacts any further since you quickly shut the door behind you then climb to sit on the toilet, breathing heavily. God, he was so easy to mess with, but you were afraid of what the consequences of your actions could be. After all, taking it out on you wasn’t ideal with how rough and insensitive he was but… you shook your head as you pictured his flushed face again. You couldn’t help but want to see where this went. Removing the unholy thoughts from your head, you start to freshen up, brushing your teeth and washing your face.

After enough time to calm yourself down and what you hope is enough time for him, you push open the door to find him standing there before you, causing you to make a surprised noise. Unphased, he holds out a large t-shirt toward you, watching your hands. “Here… it’s clean.” It was not an unusual act; since you mentioned once that his clothes were comfortable, he’s been giving you a pair most nights to sleep in and washing what you came in that first day occasionally enough for you to continue wearing during both of your odd waking hours.

You take the oversized clothing and thank him in a soft voice, quickly changing into the shirt as usual and… also as usual, asking him about the shorts in his other hand, “can you help me?”

Normally, he didn’t think anything of it, and since he didn’t, eventually, neither did you. He loves when you need his help with things, and while you probably can do it yourself at this point, he never let you after the first time he watched you struggle and in pain over your freshly broken bones. He always thinks he knows you better and, at this point, you just ask because you can tell it makes him happy.

But today, with still a blush over his face, he looks reluctant.

“I… can do it myself,” you start to say, noticing him standing there unmoving.

“No, you can’t,” he says, quickly moving to his usual position on his knees before you. With you looking at the wall and him at the ground, you both go through your usual act of you shimmying out of your pants while he helps pull it off your legs so you don’t have to bend down and then delicately placing your legs into the new pantholes. Today, though, it’s much more tense. You’re blushing, and so is he. Shit, you didn’t even have to try with this one, but now it was weird for you too. Even when it’s said and done, he stands up and clutches his arm with that same uncomfortable energy as before. You hear him swallow loudly as he appears to debate something internally. “I can… b-bring you to bed… so you don’t have to, um,” he gestures toward your legs.

Of course, you could still sort of crawl by only putting weight on the unbroken knee and, as much as he enjoyed to see you struggle without him sometimes, sometimes he was offering (actually, usually skipping the asking part) to carry you to where you needed to go, whenever he was in a mood.

Tonight is apparently one of those nights, and so when you nod your head, he sheepishly hooks one arm under your legs and another under your back and carefully hoists you up off of the toilet. You bury your face into him so as to not have to meet eyes and can feel his heart pounding for the few seconds he takes to bring you over to his futon. His hand squeezes your thigh as he involuntarily shudders before bending over to place you down in your spot beside the wall and climbing in next to you. With no room for personal space and no desire to give you any, he wraps his arms around you tightly, tighter than usual, and you listen to his heavy breathing. Silently, you press in closer to him, grazing his crotch with your butt “unintentionally” and intertwining your non-broken leg with one of his. You notice his breathing becoming raggedy and pretend not to notice any other changes your action causes. When he doesn’t move, you whisper your goodnights with a racing heart yourself, and eventually are able to fall asleep with the help of the tea.

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When you wake up, Lawrence is sleeping like the dead behind you, quietly breathing against your ears. Turning around in his now loosened grip and propping yourself up by an elbow, you survey his sleeping face. He looks peaceful, but the dark circles stamped against his eyes darker than normal have you wondering how much he even slept at all. His hair was messy, his lips were bitten, and on top of that…

You look down under the covers to try to determine if what you thought was pressing into your stomach was what you thought it was, or just his hip bone. Not being able to see much, you slowly, rather shyly, dive a hand into the sheets to confirm… and your stomach turns over when you feel him hard in his sleep. Very lightly, you run a few fingers along their landing point back to your stomach, until, to your dismay, his eyes snap open. Lawrence shoots to an upright position and when you start to let out a startled shriek, one of his hands flies to your mouth and the other grabs both of your wrists, forcing you to drop to your back against the mattress. His pupils shake as he stares at you, his face burning. But it wasn’t just from shyness, he looked angry. “Y-You! I’ve had enough of this! I…” he shakes his head and releases the hand against your mouth. “I-I haven’t been able to sleep, or just… fucking… relax, because of you.” Hearing him curse startled you, not that he never did it, but he must have genuinely been pissed off.

“I…” you start, as if to apologize, but he suddenly gets up and, grabbing your shoulders, forces you upright and glares down hard at you. He then looks toward the chair in the center of the room, and your heart sinks. “W-Wait!”

Lawrence ignores your protest and easily lifts you out of the bed under your arms to roughly place you down in the wooden chair. You know better than to fight back as he tapes your ankles and wrists to the chair, and can’t help but wince with the little care he applies to your poorly “healed” leg and foot. When he gets back to his feet, he looms above you looking calmer, albeit still frustrated, with a thoughtful look on his face. “Th-then… we’ll just see how you like it… when you, err, I-” he groans, as if trying to say what he wanted was a challenge.

You feel the tension in your shoulders loosen when he proclaims his intentions. He looks… vengeful? But the violent glint in his eyes that’s usually there when you find yourself in the chair isn’t there.

He doesn’t say anything else as he stands, as if calculating what to do, then smirks slightly. He double checks that your arms are sealed and quickly dips around the corner with purpose. “Lawrence?” you call out softly, and though he doesn’t say anything, he quickly comes back before you with some kind of bandage wrap in his hands. “..What’s that for?”

Not answering your question, he bends down to your level and, looking past your gaze, starts wrapping the soft material around your head at eye level, effectively blindfolding you. Again, you call out, “what are you doing? Lawrence?”

Feeling slightly anxious with your sight taken away, you don’t feel any better when the only response given to you is a thoughtful hum as Lawrence stands somewhere before you. After a few moments of the following silence, you start to feel his cold, clammy hands, running through the hair not behind the thick bandage. Your breath catches in your throat as one starts to trail down your neck in a featherlight touch, gasping when his fingernails eventually graze your shoulder. His other hand runs down the side of your face and stops at your lips. His thumb and forefinger grasp gently at them and you swallow. For a moment, he allows your saliva to just barely wet his thumb as his other hand runs down your arm to grasp your own, lifted just slightly against the tight tape. He rubs circles into your palms in a way that can only be described as sensual, and when you start to softly pant against the tip of his thumb, he sighs contentedly.

“I know what makes you tick,” he says finally, decidedly. Both hands lower further to your chest, though still clothed, and he gives your nipples a gentle squeeze through the fabric. You let out a yelp, much to his supposed satisfaction, as this makes him momentarily squeeze a little harder before releasing you fully.

“And I’m not done yet… I want you to…” he struggles to find the right words. “I want you to know h-how it feels.” The way he puts it is negative, but you only hope for him to touch you more. Your insides were fluttering from his carefully calculated strokes and grasps. You wonder if he had wanted you to touch him more, too, though knew he’d never admit it if it were the case. In the end he was taking out his frustrations on you. And you couldn’t help but want more of it.

You open your mouth as if to say something but quickly stop when you feel Lawrence’s hands grip your sides just above your hips. His hands roam as they hike up your shirt just slightly, and you shudder as you feel him drag his fingers across the skin of your belly by the nails. He must be kneeling at this point but you can’t seem to get a feel for where he is while focusing so intently on his touch. You bite your lip when his hands drop lower, running over your thighs and then moving inward to your nether regions. You start to gasp slightly, “Lawr-”

He quickly covers your mouth and coos, “shh, just relax.” When you nod your head, he begins to palm your most sensitive area, definitely noticing the evidence of your arousal even through your clothing. When you whimper into his hand, he begins to press harder, rubbing you up and down rhythmically yet never dipping inside your clothing. You try to get his attention but he doesn’t uncover your mouth and continues to tease you from the outside, methodically testing your limits. When the mix of pleasure and intense desire for more becomes dizzying, he finally releases the hand blocking your mouth and, lightening his touches on your lower areas to gentle strokes, leans in so that you can feel his breath on your neck. “How does it feel? How does it feel to b-be messed with like this?” he interrogates you though never lets up, awaiting your answer.

“G-Good,” you moan out, bucking your hips further into his hand as much as the chair will allow you, feeling controlled by arousal brought upon you. “Please… I want…”

But before you can finish talking, he removes himself from you again, much to your dismay. You can hear the sound of metal clinking softly as well as the subtle movement of fabric. No time is given to you to ask anything more before he starts to cut the tape off of your legs swiftly, followed by your wrists. As soon as you’re freed he pulls you out of the chair by your underarms and places you on your knees, leaving the blindfolding bandages around your eyes. You wince at the weight placed onto your hurt leg, but when you instinctively try to lower your body he straightens you back up and mutters something about staying still. Then he pinches your nose and, when you open your mouth to breathe, feel his long, throbbing cock push into your mouth, causing you to let out a surprised garble against him. He moves to hold your head in his hands as he continues stuffing himself down your throat until your nose brushes against the hairs of his crotch, making it difficult for you to breathe. You weakly take in air through your nose, sex still throbbing, and he speaks to you again in a wistful voice. “You… you take my breath away. S-Sometimes, it’s hard to deal with. So now…” his voice stays matter-of-fact. “I’ll take away yours.”

Gripping your head securely, he starts to rock his hips against you, thrusting himself in and out of your mouth slowly, at first, but very quickly picking up the pace, though never pulling out enough to let you take in a breath. His fingers tousle your hair as he scrambles to find a place to grab onto as he continues to plunge his dick down your throat repeatedly, his breathing becoming more irregular by the second. Your eyes water and the desire to gag plagues you, but your body isn’t given the chance.

Feeling dizzy from the lack of oxygen, you use your free arms to try to push him away, but he only responds by pushing even harder, moaning quietly above you. “Don’t… stop…” he breathes out in a heated pant, though leaving you no choice in the matter either way, his body rolling into you again and again. His hold on your head gets harder, pulling at your hair painfully. He ignores the tears that roll down your face from the intensity of his movements and the pain it’s causing you. His breath hitches as you notice his thrusting becoming more needy and erratic. You keep trying to breathe, struggling against him still, fearing that he may actually cause you to pass out. He must be getting close, and with what effort you could muster to get him there faster, you stroke your tongue along the underside of his cock as it slides through your mouth. He gasps out loud, provoking you to work harder, tears still falling from your eyes and collecting with drool that drizzled from your mouth around his massive size in what must be a horribly messy scene, but all you can focus on was trying to get him to finish, and the way it was making you feel.

Lawrence’s moaning and gasping sounds grow louder and you feel his manhood become even stiffer than it already was. He was moving in strokes as long and fast as he could get. The man pounding into your mouth gave you no warnings as he bottomed out in your throat, pulling your head against him as far as it could go just before his cock started to throb as he came to a shuddering orgasm. Your stomach lurched as he came heavily down your throat, gasping for breath. His knees buckled as he finished, and he stayed in that position until the throbbing fully stopped. With a contented sigh, he pulls himself out from your mouth and continues to gently hold your head up as you start coughing and sputtering, gasping for air. Your arousal now even greater than before, you moved a hand to grasp at him yourself, but he let you go and took a step back.

“Lawrence,” you moan, still breathing intensely. “Please, I need you to…”

“I have to go,” he says over you, seeming to have collected himself already. He spoke in a self satisfied manner, as he continued, “I need to… get some things from the store before work.” He brushes sweat-slick hair from your face gently, and coos, “you’ll be okay.”

“W-Wait, but I-” you start, but he comes around and takes a hold of your wrists from behind and begins to tape them together behind your back.

“You won’t need these, either,” he hums, preventing any way for you to be able to touch yourself when he leaves. You grind hopelessly against your good foot with a needy cry, but the only sound you can hear is the opening and closing of the apartment door behind him. He leaves you kneeling on the floor, blindfolded with tied wrists, with no indication of when he’d be back.

You knew it before, but he ground it into you this time. Lawrence was a grudge-holder, and he always got his revenge.

#lawrence oleander #lawrence btd x reader #lawrence oleander x reader #lawrence btd

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