ᰋ ˓ includes fluff, reader is a anti-hero
ᰋ ˓ a/n: someone requested me to do a AK game version so here you go :] (btw i love Batman: Arkham Knight that game is FIRE)
ᰋ ˓ credits to whoever made the bow dividers (i can’t find the original creator)
゛FIRST TIME MEETING : ⸝⸝⋆
𓆩𓆪 you two meet during the arkham knight's siege on gotham alongside scarecrow’s alliance with him. you're not with the militia but you're definitely not helping batman either (you’re more of a freelancer that does stuff when you want too like catwoman), and that catches his attention immediately
𓆩𓆪 he finds you taking out a group of his soldiers and instead of being mad.. he's intrigued? you're efficient, brutal when you need to be, super cool, and you don't hesitate to show your true emotions. he watches from the shadows before revealing himself in full armor
𓆩𓆪 the voice modulator makes him sound terrifying but you don't even flinch. just look at this new armored vigilante and go "nice suit, compensating for something?" he nearly shoots you on the spot (he's lying, he thought it was funny on the inside)
𓆩𓆪 he offers you a position in his militia. good pay, full armor, get to kill batman. you turn him down because you don't work for anyone, but you're not against working WITHsomeone if the goals align. he respects that more than he'd like to admit
𓆩𓆪 you end up in this weird alliance where you're both going after batman's allies but for different reasons. he wants revenge, you want gotham to change its ways. close enough?
𓆩𓆪 he's paranoid and controlling at first. needs to know your real name, your backstory, your motives. but, you give him nothing. it drives him insane
𓆩𓆪 the militia soldiers are (lowkey) scared of both of you. the arkham knight is their terrifying boss but you're the wild card who doesn't follow orders and somehow… he allows it?!
゛HIM CATCHING FEELINGS : ⸝⸝⋆
𓆩𓆪 with feelings, jason todd under the arkham knight persona is obvious. plain obvious. that everybody knows is obvious except him (and you, of course).
𓆩𓆪 it starts when you question one of his orders. he's about to do something that would kill civilians and you straight up tell him that's not happening. everyone thinks you're about to die but he just... pauses. recalculates. changes the plan. the militia is shook
𓆩𓆪 he starts requesting you specifically for missions. "i need someone competent" he says through the modulator. slade wilson is literally right there but sure jan
𓆩𓆪 you're the only person allowed in his personal command center. the militia has orders to let you through any checkpoint, any time. you don't realize this is a big deal until a soldier looks at you like you're some kind of cryptid
𓆩𓆪 he gets tense when you're out on missions without him. watching your tracker on his screen, monitoring your comms, ready to send his entire militia if you need backup. it's definitely just tactical he tells himself while having a mild panic attack
𓆩𓆪 I feel like the crush really hits him when you see him without the helmet by accident. he's in his private quarters and you walk in without knocking and he spins around, face bare, scars visible, and you just... don't react with pity or horror. you just say "you good?" and it breaks something in him
𓆩𓆪 starts leaving supplies in your room at the militia base. new armor, better weapons, medical supplies. no notes, no explanation. you know it's him
𓆩𓆪 gets unreasonably jealous when deathstroke talks to you. slade thinks it's hilarious and definitely does it more just to mess with the knight. "your guard dog is growling again" he tells you. you're starting to suspect it's not about loyalty to the cause
𓆩𓆪 the crushing phase is him trying to maintain a scary militant persona while also making sure you ate today. "you're useless to me if you're not in peak condition" he says while handing you food. sir this is a wendy’s
゛”FEELINGS” TURNS TO DATING : ⸝⸝⋆
𓆩𓆪 dating the arkham knight is intense. he's so damaged and angry and he's got an actual vendetta going on. but you're the one person who sees jason, not just the knight
𓆩𓆪 he takes off the helmet around you now. not all the time because it's his security blanket, but enough that you get to see his face, his expressions, the way his jaw clenches when he's stressed (which is always)
𓆩𓆪 the voice modulator stays on during militia business but in private it's just his voice. rough, tired, and most importantly, real. he whispers things to you he'd never say in front of anyone else
𓆩𓆪 his room becomes your room. you'll be going over plans at 3am, sitting in his lap while he monitors the siege, and he's got one arm around your waist while the other works the computer. multitasking king
𓆩𓆪 you're the only one who can talk him down when the anger gets too much. when he's about to make a decision based purely on revenge, you're there to remind him of the actual goal. he listens to you when he won't listen to anyone else
𓆩𓆪 trains with you personally. hand to hand combat that definitely gets a little too close to be professional. he's pushed you against the training room wall more than once, both of you breathing hard, and the militia knows to NEVER interrupt those sessions
𓆩𓆪 possessive on a whole different level. you're HIS partner, his equal, his weakness that he pretends isn't a weakness. anyone who disrespects you answers to him and the arkham knight is not known for mercy
𓆩𓆪 the batfamily would be horrified if they knew batman's worst enemy had a partner who made him even more dangerous. you balance his rage with strategy, his hatred with purpose. you're the only reason he hasn't completely lost himself
𓆩𓆪 soft moments are rare but they hit different. he'll trace your face with his gloved hand, or rest his forehead against yours, or just hold you when the weight of everything gets too heavy. no words needed
𓆩𓆪 you patch him up after fights with batman. (he's always worse after those), the personal history making every hit sting more. you clean his wounds and don't ask questions when his hands shake
𓆩𓆪 he's secretly terrified you'll leave when you find out the full truth about him and bruce. when it all comes out, you just look at him and say "i chose you before i knew, i choose you after knowing." he has to turn away because the helmet's off and you're not supposed to see him cry
𓆩𓆪 you are both the ride or die for each other. literally. if the plan goes wrong and one of you doesn't make it, the other is taking everyone down with them. it's unhealthy and codependent, but perfect for two anti-heroes who've got nothing left to lose except each other
⠀✦ REQUESTS/ASKS ARE OPEN (FOR NOW)
⠀⋆.˚ᨒ do not copy, translate, or plagiarize my work in anyway including the use of ai onto any other social media platforms or it will permit an instant block on all platforms.
"still so good f'me, after all these years…" (or, dilf!jason takes his sweet, sweet time with you~)
dilf!jason todd x wife!reader
a/n: i have been plagued with thoughts of this man for far too long. seriously. huge thanks to @artficlly for helping me figure out how to get that moodboard sorted mwah mwah mwah <333333
word count: 2.1k
decription: jason todd comes home from patrol, only to start realising he's actually aging when he looks in the mirror. lucky for him, you're here too~
content: this is smut. don't like, don't read! dilfson todd has me in a chokehold oh my GOD MDNI! they get freaky, soft sex.
dc fics ♡ f'(uck) me
Jason Todd stands in front of the bathroom mirror this fine Gotham morning (read - horrible, terrible downpour, fog that can only be described as 'Silent Hill-esque' in nature, and that strange feeling that someone's always somewhere that only Gotham carries), looking back at his reflection.
Well, no.
He's not really looking, is he?
He's.. staring. With that crease between his brows that only you can kiss away, those piercing eyes that seem to glare at everything and anyone that isn't you and a frown plastered across his face, he's staring.
Because Jason Peter Todd has greys. In his hair…
Not the ones after he was resurrected! No, no, those were always there. And to be honest - he'd come round to them. At the time, they felt like a silent, quiet rebellion (one he hadn't chosen, but still).
No, these were the other greys. You know, the greys that come with… age…
Not just greys though. The crow's feet beside his eyes, lines accentuating his face. The way his bones ached a little more after every patrol. How he'd wake up every morning with a new muscle cramp or pain. How he could no longer push himself past his limit without severe consequences (lying face down in bed and groaning as you rub your hands over his aching muscles).
The way he looked like.. him.
It was strange, to be honest. Still is, he thinks, as he stares at his features in the mirror - hand grazing over the stubble before he sighs and slowly begins shaving it down. Of all his children, Jason was the one that looked most like Bruce. Jason. You know, Jason 'not the golden child' Todd. Jason 'shoot first ask questions later' Todd. Jason 'oh I died except not really so now I'm back. But also different from before. Hey what's up?' Todd. That very same Jason, now stared back at himself in the mirror.
And this time, his eyes don't find his own. No, instead they find a softer, kinder set of eyes - looking back at his with a love and adoration he still doesn't feel he deserves. One that he still blames himself for corrupting, for ruining with… well, him. Your arms snake around his shoulders from behind him, chin barely resting on one shoulder as you stand on your tip toes. There's something in your eyes today - something that glimmers and glitters as his thoughts shift away from the depressing thoughts bathroom mirrors often hold, to a more natural calm. As if you know exactly what he's turmoiling himself with.
Things weren't always like this. Once upon a time, Jason was a man filled with a rage so unbridled, so unrestrained and unstoppable, that he'd rarely know such a calm like this. Then again, you had changed that.
You're not quite sure of what goes on in Jason's brain right now (though, who is?), but the softened smile across his face as his eyes shift from that overly critical glare he stares back at himself with to a much gentler, sweeter look he keeps reserved just for you has you practically melting. All without saying a single word.
He turns towards you, raising an eyebrow as he pulls your body against him. He thinks about you for a moment. Properly. The way you never stopped loving him - even in his worst days. How fiercely you fought for him, held him close to you after every horrible night. And now he holds you close before lifting you over his shoulder. Of course you squeal and gasp as he walks the two of you over to your shared bed. Where the young, fiesty Jason would have thrown you down and teased you, the older, gentler Jason lowers you with a sweetness that makes your heart melt. Gently pulling off his shirt and pants - leaving him just in his boxers.
And year - he could rush into this, get straight to fucking you into the mattress until you're raw and sore. You wouldn't complain, but he would. So instead he sits on the edge of the bed, beckoning you closer as he waits for you.
You join him, hands immediately splaying across his collarbone first as your thumbs roll circles into his skin. He sits patiently as you eagerly explore his body, his own hands pulling you into his lap and holding you steady.
You've changed too, he realises. Where once you'd look at him with that lustful gaze, now you look at him with a sweete- No, wait. It's still there. Still that lustful gaze. Except there is a sweetness to it now. Something softer underlines it this time.
Your nails lightly trace over each and every scar, lips pressing a kiss to them as you reclaim him to be yours once more.
For at night, he may belong to the city of Gotham and its people, but now? Here and now? He was yours. And only yours.
Nothing else matters as he leans back onto the bed, his own hands trailing up your body - slowly pushing up the night shirt that held back what he had yearned to see all night, pulling it up and off you. All as you lower yourself down to him - pressing your body against him as lips trail up his body. Starting low at his abdomen, snaking up towards his chest as you pause. He knows what comes next, and a smile graces his face. He watches you slowly lick your lips, tongue flicking across them as if to wet and prepare them for him. He's not much better - biting his lower lip and lowering his gaze as your hands splay across his chest once more. Your arms push your body closer as you do, and he still can't tear his eyes away from your chest. His hands snake up higher, finding the sides of your chest as his thumbs move out over your already hardened nipples.
Just like always, your back immediately arches - body leaning further into his touch as your own hands lift ever so slightly from his chest. He continues to circle his thumbs across your chest, slowly picking pace as you begin to roll your hips over his painfully hard cock - still restrained by the cloth that separates the two of you. Your hips move faster, eager to relieve the growing heat in your lower belly, until his hands snake back down.
Stopping you.
And suddenly you're frowning, sighing as you pout back at him.
Dear Gods is he a susceptible man, when you look at him like that. He should be stronger, able to hold himself back from giving in to anything. Surely he can hold out longer, no? But then your eyes are so pretty and wide, practically begging he take you so sweetly. And your lips push out in that pout that only makes him want to drag you down to him and bite you. And you're so, so soft and gentle - how could he ever deny his sweet girl like that?
Plus, that delighted gasp you make when he finally takes control - flipping you over as his lips press against your ear - is so very worth it all,
"Hello there, pretty girl. Miss me last night?"
"Miss you every night, Jay…"
"Still so good f'me, after all these years…"
Now - just because Jason is older and takes his sweet time loving you, does not mean that he wastes time. Not when he knows you, so well like this. He knows you're practically soaked at just the thought of him making love to you, and you're already so antsy - twitching and shifting around as you whine at him.
So Jason does what every good husband should.
He starts by pulling your panties up and off you - finally letting the cold, cool morning air around you hit your folds as his hands spread your thighs open. Then, he lets himself free - tugging his boxers off as his achingly hard cock springs out, coated in cum. You giggle and he sighs, raising his eyebrows,
"Oh, Jason!"
"What's up, pretty baby?"
"Wet and ready f'me? I'm flattered~"
"…You can't use my own words against me, ya know that, right?"
"Yet here we are?"
"Yet here.. we are.."
Despite his words, he can't stop himself from smiling as your blissfully saccharine giggles bounce around the room, tickling his brain in all the right ways. All as he lines his cock up to your folds once more, tapping it against your clit. He practically revels in how your body writhes and stretches as he slowly sheathes himself into you - pausing only when each and every thick inch of him fills you.
When he pauses, he lowers his forehead to yours. Chapped lips find your own, and traces of stubble tickle against your cheeks. His hands find the small of your back, holding you up to him once more as he begins to very slowly rock in and out of you. Savouring you. He hums into your lips, eyes pressed closed as you hum back. And there's nothing more you'd want in the world, than him like this right now.
Because sure - you could have him pound you over and over again, body twisted and contorted into angles as he works you the way only he could. Your nails could be digging into his back, dragging down as he fucks you into the mattress below - bed creaking aggressively as he entirely ruins you.
But that's not what you want. Not right now, when he feels so tender and loving. Filling you with both his thick, long cock but also a sweet warmth that trickles into each and every part of you. Each thrust is slow and gentle - only picking up pace when you ask him, with that satin soft voice of yours,
"Please, Jay! Faster, baby, faster!"
"Anything for my pretty girl.."
Yet even when he picks up pace, he still keeps himself just slow enough to really relish in each movement you make. The way your walls still remember and welcome him after all these years. Or how you push up further into him when he thrusts in at that one specific angle.
Especially though, he savours your sweetened, cock drunk babbling. Words entirely lost as you lose yourself entirely on him. And there's something else about it too - the way you trust him entirely, to feel comfortable enough to be like this with him. Reminding him that he is your safe space.
Similarly, his own thoughts begin to tear and wisp away - because what is your safe space is also his safe space. He allows his thoughts to loosen, and strands practically float around in clouds of lost thoughts as the only thought remaining is just how perfectly you wrap around him,
"F-fuck, pretty girl, you take me so well, huh? So fuckin' pretty, all f'me, all like this. Always f'me baby, fuck.. Never, ever gettin' tired of this.."
You're long past words, your walls tightening around him as you feel yourself climbing higher and higher with each thrust. He's messier now - less practiced and accurate, and more needy and desperate. One hand sneaks lower as his thumb teases over your clit, rolling circles into you as you only grip on to his forearms even tighter.
He drives you over the edge, hand only leaving your clit when you begin to shake under him. And then it finds your back again, holding you close as he now flips you to be on top of him. As much as he'd love to continue, rounds and rounds of endless sex as the two of you find your releases in one another, he only thrusts up into you long enough to finish his own high. You sigh as he finally cums, thrust stuttering in you as he holds your body flush against his. One hand raises up to your hair, pulling your head into his chest and slowly stroking your hair as you sigh (somewhat wistfully, he might add).
"My love… you have bewitched me… body and soul…"
"Pride and Prejudice, Jay?"
"Mhm."
The two of you remain entangled within one another for a while, actually. Before, Jason might've rushed to clean you up and hold you in his arms - the two of you drifting into dreamland -but now he reaches for his reading glasses (you know - the one's that drive you wild, the one's that practically have you foaming at the mouth, biting your lip as you whine and moa- another time.) and slightly tattered copy of Pride and Prejudice. He flicks through the pages, before landing on Chapter Thirty Four (where the two of you had last left off, last week), and begins to read to you,
"When they were gone, Elizabeth, as if intending to exasperate herself as much as possible against Mr Darcy…"
And so - as Gotham resumes its regular hustle and bustle of every Gotham morning (oh, you know. The horrible, terrible weather, the crowds of people brushing past each other and the absolutely awful traffic), the two of you lie in bliss and in peace.
For Jason Todd has aged gracefully, with his sweet wife.
xoxo, roe~
btw yall need to see what my setup was (watching re5 playthroughs as i write smut LMAO):
He liked to take his time, to watch, learn, memorize—every reaction, every sharp inhale, every way your body responded to his touch. He was never in a rush. Never let his ego get ahead of him. But this?
This was new.
You were pinned beneath him, legs hooked around his waist, your body shaking as he pushed into you—deep, slow, relentless. His hands were firm against your thighs, keeping you open, keeping you exactly where he wanted. The feeling of your warmth wrapped so tight around him sent a slow, burning pleasure through his spine, but what really had him losing his mind was you.
The way your breath stuttered every time he rolled his hips. The way your nails scraped at his arms, your legs twitching as he stretched you out. The way you gasped his name like it was the only word you knew.
And then it happened.
The moment he angled his hips just right, just deep enough to press against that sweet spot—
Your breath hitched—
Your entire body tensed—
And then, you came.
Fast. Hard. Too hard.
Suna felt it, the way your walls squeezed him tight, the way your legs locked up, a choked cry breaking past your lips. The way your hands clawed at his back, searching for anything to hold onto as you shattered underneath him.
He stilled—just for a second—his sharp eyes flicking up to watch you completely fall apart beneath him.
Oh.
Oh, yeah. This was it.
A slow, wicked smirk stretched across his lips. He liked that.
"Didn’t even last a minute," he murmured, voice low, teasing, smug.
You barely registered his words, your body limp, your mind foggy with the aftershocks. But Suna wasn’t done.
He let you catch your breath for a second, his hands rubbing slow, lazy circles over your thighs. But then—
He pressed his weight into you, rolling his hips again—deeper, slower this time, dragging out the pleasure until you gasped, your body twitching from oversensitivity. And he felt it. The way you clenched involuntarily, still on edge, still sensitive.
"Oh?" His grip on your thighs tightened, his smirk deepening as his voice dipped into something darker, lower. “Still sensitive?”
A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest as you whimpered, your nails digging into his arms. He was going to have fun with this.
One of his hands left your thigh, sliding up the length of your body—slow, teasing, purposeful—before wrapping around your throat, his thumb brushing over your pulse. His mouth hovered just above yours, his breath warm, teasing, his words coated in amusement.
"That was too fast, baby," he murmured, tilting his head slightly, watching your dazed expression with something like satisfaction. "Guess that means this is my new favorite."
His thumb pressed against your jaw, tilting your face up toward him. His dark, lidded gaze roamed over your features, soaking in the flush on your cheeks, the parted lips, the way your chest heaved. You were wrecked. And that made something primal twist in his stomach. He wanted to see it again.
So he moved.
Slow. Deep. Unrelenting.
The pace was different this time—no teasing, no holding back. He wanted to feel you come apart again. Wanted to feel your walls flutter around him, to watch you drown in the sensation. He wanted to chase that reaction again and again until it was burned into him.
"Too much?" he mused, his voice dripping with false innocence as his thrusts got sharper, pushing you right back toward that edge.
Your response was lost between a gasp and a moan, and Suna grinned.
"Nah, I think you can take it," he murmured. "You were made for this, weren't you?"
You barely had time to process his words before he angled his hips just right again— and that coil in your stomach snapped.
Your head tilted back, a cry tearing from your lips as pleasure flooded through you, crashing over you even harder than the first time.
Suna groaned, feeling your body clamp down around him, squeezing him so tight that his rhythm stuttered for half a second. His grip on your throat loosened, his hand sliding down to grasp at your waist instead, holding you steady as you shook beneath him.
"Fuck," he muttered, watching the way your body trembled, the way your fingers scrambled at the sheets. He let his hips slow, dragging out your high, letting you feel every second of it.
And when you finally collapsed, boneless and wrecked beyond belief, Suna pressed a kiss to your jaw, his smirk returning as he murmured—
જ⁀➴ Rintaro Suna, your neighbor and bane of existence. Ever since his family moved in next to your family, the tension between the two of you was thick enough to cut with a knife. Yes, maybe you did make out with him at the neighborhood barbecue party and perhaps you did end up in bed with him - or rather, in the backseat of his car. But you didn't expect your families to get along so great that they would go on a two week long vacation together - so now you're stuck with your annoyingly handsome neighbor who somehow always gets under your skin.
ﾉ including: Suna
ﾉ cw: fem!reader, Suna and you are both around 20 and still live at home here, exhibitionism, public sex, car sex, fingering, cunnilingus, nipple play, protected sex
ﾉ wordcount: 1.9k
ﾉ info: requested by anon // I hope I didn't disappoint you dear anon 🥹
REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED!
"Rintaro, stop! Someone could see us!" You squeak at the man that latched onto your neck like a leech, sucking small marks onto your sensitive skin before kissing them. His hand was gently caressing your breast beneath the thin fabric of your swimwear and you couldn't help but melt at the attention he gave to your body.
"And who would that someone be? The beach is entirely empty," he chuckled against your skin while his fingers gently rolled your pebbled nipple to get any sort of reaction out of you. One word could stop this all, you knew it, yet you didn't say it because deep down you wanted this too.
Your back arched against his hand ever so slightly, craving his caress and the sound of a single seagull started to sound like it's laughing at you, mocking you for surrendering without a real fight.
Suna’s lips curled into a wolfish grin as he continued to press lazy kisses against your neck, gently nibbling at your pulse point every once in a while until his hand eventually wandered further down. Your left boob was left exposed to the gentle breeze of the ocean, your bikini top shifted from the way his hand played with your chest.
A pleasant tingling spread over your skin, leaving goosebumps behind where his fingers danced along your body and it felt addictive - Strong hands kneading your inner thighs, fingertips brushing past the spot where your legs and your core connected but never quite touching where you needed him the most. It took everything inside of you to not give in, to buck against his hand so he gently nudged his knuckles against your cunt to relieve this need for friction- even if it was only for a single second.
“Rin… please,” you plead breathily, but Suna pulled his hand away instead.
A wicked smirk appeared on Suna's face after he pulled away, acting like nothing has happened between the two of you.
"Please what? I thought you wanted me to stop?" He asked, feigning innocence as he reminded you that you told him to stop because you were scared of getting caught.
Just seconds later, he casually laid his shirt onto your upper body to cover your still exposed boob. This action alone made you wonder what was going on, but you soon heard the voices of a couple walking by. Sly fucker.
"I think it's time to head back, don't you think? Quality time with the family and all that," he mused and pulled his shirt off of you the second the potential risk of getting caught was gone - just like the couple disappeared, so did Suna, who was already on his way to the car you two came in.
Quickly, you fixed your bikini top and grabbed your things before running after him like a lost puppy. It's not like he would have left you behind at the beach, but you were furious with him for the relentless teasing.
"What is your fucking problem?!" You hiss at the man who just closed the trunk of his car with a loud thud. Of course he squinted his eyes at your question.
"I have no problems, thanks for asking," he hummed, acting innocent.
"But I think that you have a problem, hm? One that needs my help?" He teased further while his hand slowly moved to rest on your hip, playing with the strings of your bikini bottoms.
"Out here? Are you insane?" You asked him with alarmed eyes, looking around once again, but you were the only people there, no other car near and far on the small parking spot.
"If you'd rather help yourself back home where our parents are, be my guest." His eyes were glinting with mischief when the words left his mouth. He really did want you to beg for it.
The desperation grew inside of you until it became unbearable and you decided to push your pride aside, giving in for once and allowing him to win this stupid game. Without further hesitation you crashed your lips against his in a kiss that was both passionate and full of yearning.
It only took a heartbeat for Suna to respond. His lips melted against yours as if they had always belonged there, made for each other.
Time and space seemed to stop for the both of you as you were making out against the car. Suna's thigh slowly made its way between your legs, letting you grind and rub your clothed pussy against his bare thigh - finally granting you that sweet friction that you so desperately craved.
"Get into the backseat," Suna urged you as he opened the door for you. His cock was painfully erect from teasing you all this time and the way you humped his leg almost had him come undone in his swim shorts.
You weren't fast enough for his liking, slender fingers already opening the strings of your bikini shorts before you landed on the cushioned seat where you spread your legs for him in a moment's notice. A sharp intake of air was all you heard from the man in front of you, who was eyeing you down like the most delicious meal, before looking around once more to make sure that no one would interrupt the two of you.
Suna leaned into the back of the car, his lips softly pressed kisses against your chest before capturing one of your nipples in his mouth while one of his hands slipped between your bodies. Feeling you arch against him left the brown haired man smirking as his tongue leisurely caressed your nipple that he latched onto and two of his long fingers slipped inside your dripping wet entrance just to curl right against your sweet spot.
"Just listen how wet you are for me, hm?" His voice rasped out in a teasing way against the swell of your breast. The squelching noises were obscene at this point and it rendered you so desperate, unable to hide your need for the pleasure only he can provide.
Suna released your nipple with a loud pop and his kisses traveled over your belly down between your legs, where he wasted no time to give your clit the same attention that your nipple held mere seconds ago. The man just had to get a taste of your arousal and he groaned against your pussy, which sent vibrations through your entire body.
"Please don't stop," you whine as you gently tug on his hair, trying to keep his head nestled against your cunt, but Suna didn't plan on stopping when you were that close.
His cock might have ached from how hard it was, but he was a firm believer that women come first. His tongue lapped against your clit in fast strokes while his fingers worked you open and massaged your sweet spot until he could feel your thighs quiver around his head. Your own hand shot up to muffle your cries of ecstasy as you came undone within seconds, your hips rolling against his tongue, which flattened out to allow you to grind against his face.
Suna eventually pulled away to lick his fingers clean from the remnants of your arousal, his chin still glistening with your juices in the setting sun. Once he stood up to his full height again, you could see the tent that had formed in his swim shorts, but he disappeared to the front of the car to rummage through the glove compartment.
"You're awfully prepared," you laughed softly when he appeared with a condom in hand and he shook his head with a small chuckle.
"Only because I had to pull out last time," he answered smoothly and you weren't sure if he meant that one time after the barbecue party with you or if he fucked other women in the car after that.
You lean up to watch him roll the clear condom down his shaft in just one stroke as if he had practiced this many times before. When he leans forward to drag his bulbous tip through your folds, you reach down to stop him, your hand resting on his hip bone uncomfortably. Why did you even care?
"You do this a lot, huh? Taking pretty girls to your car to fuck," You ask almost hurt, even though you had no right to feel bitter about it. Yet, that little voice in the back of your head had to ask, had to know how many girls laid where you did. At least he used protection, you thought.
"Too busy fucking my neighbor for that," he mused and leaned forward to kiss you gently - almost sweetly and your hand removed itself from his hip to line him up with your entrance.
Both of you groan at the feeling when his cock slides into your pussy, gripping him tightly as if you were made for him. Suna, however wasted no time to thrust into you with these deep strokes that weren't fast but knocked the air out of your lungs each and every time. He allowed himself to get lost in the feeling of your sweet pussy wrapping around him so fucking tight his mind completely blanked out.
Your soft mewls of his name brought him back to reality, however, reminding him that you're still in a parking lot and he shouldn't drag this out too long and you shouldn't get too loud.
One of his hands slipped between your sweat-slick bodies to rub your sensitive clit. The stimulation paired with his deep thrusts had your eyes rolling back into your skull in pure bliss. His lips found yours again to swallow your moans and to keep himself grounded since his thrusts grew sloppy from how tight your walls squeezed around him, but when they finally started to flutter and pull him further inside, he allowed himself to release as well.
Suna made sure to keep up shallow thrusts to ride out both your orgasms before stilling completely. When he stood up again, his thumb caressed your cheek in a loving manner before he retreated completely to discard the condom.
"Water is in the front if you need any," he called out from the trashcan a few feet away where he tied up the condom to throw it away while you tied the strings of your bikini again, still struggling to catch your breath.
"You're not gonna hold me like last time?" You asked teasingly as you climbed to sit in the front of the car where he was already getting buckled up to leave.
"Who said that I was done with you?" He looked at you from the corner of his eyes and smirked when he saw you melt further into the seat at the promise of more pleasure.
summary: as a rookie witch, it was common tradition for you to have a familiar to enhance your magic, so you do the logical thing and try to summon one. key word: try - because instead of a cute little witchy animal, you summon a sarcastic demon who gives you multiple reality checks. how fun!
content: it's literally just reader being tired of anything that comes out of suna's mouth 😔
word count: 2.6k
main masterlist || hq masterlist || series masterlist || ao3
➺ chapter two - coming soon!!
Chapter One - How to Summon a Demon (and Regret It)
Brows furrowed, scowl etched upon your face, you blow a few stray strands of hair out of your eyes as you sit cross legged in front of yet another summoning circle on the stone-cold floor, the only light in your dimly lit cottage coming from the flickering red candles surrounding you.
“C’mon little familiar, you don’t even need to be some extraordinary animal. I’ll be happy with anything at this point. Literally anything. Even a rat. A rat, okay? Not picky.” You’re practically begging for this to work, the desperation in your voice is obvious and you think if the goddesses are watching down on you right now, they are definitely suffering from second hand embarrassment.
Seeing as this was your third try (this week) - it had to work. There was no reason for it not to. You had drawn the summoning circle perfectly, the herbal concoction was precisely positioned at a 60-degree angle from the centre, and the 12 surrounding red candles had been lit in clockwise order. You had followed every instruction from the grimoire word for word, you even memorised the incantation in latin for fuck’s sake. So there’s no way anything could have gone wrong, right?
Wrong.
Very wrong, little witch.
You let out a frustrated sigh, closing your eyes and steeling yourself to recite the incantation (again). The words you murmur softly echo around you, and you feel a gust of cold air against your back, the candles flickering as the energy in the room thickens. Your eyes snap open, fixing onto the centre of the summoning circle, although you’ve learnt not to have your hopes up at this stage, since this is usually where - you guessed it - absolutely nothing happens.
“Please work,” you mutter to yourself, fingers tapping impatiently on your knees, “I’m not asking for much, just a rat. A goddamn rat. That’s it.”
And then it happened.
Your fingers still against your knees as the ground beneath you begins to rattle - enough of a surprise to make your pulse quicken. Was this it? Were you finally about to get a familiar? A surge of excitement rushes through as you expectantly keep staring at the circle, which is now emanating a bright red light across your surroundings. This bit has never happened before, did this mean it was working? Surely, this meant it was working…
You’re brought out of your confused state as you start coughing, a red cloud of dust appearing in front of you and before you can even register what’s happening, the familiar—or whatever this is—has already appeared.
You blink.
In the middle of your summoning circle lay a figure, lounging on your floor like he was sunbathing at the beach and he looks a bit too unbothered for your liking. He stands up, and you realise he’s infuriatingly tall - a towering presence that most certainly did not belong in your tiny cottage, as you watch him dust himself off as if this whole ordeal was beneath him. His emerald eyes, glinting with amusement immediately lock onto yours, strands of dark, brown hair falling onto his forehead almost perfectly and he’s wearing the most bored expression you’ve ever seen in your 20 something years of living.
You let out a loud, dramatic groan, throwing your head back in frustration as you immediately reach for your grimoire, hauling it onto your lap, muttering,
“What a grand fucking entrance. Great. Just great. Of course, this would happen to me. Why wouldn’t this happen?”
The demon stares at you, head cocked to the side in confusion as he waits for the usual exaggerated shriek of fear. No? Okay maybe you’re more of a panicked gasp girl… or not. Because all he gets is another annoyed sigh escaping your mouth as you pinch the bridge of your nose, furiously flicking through the worn pages.
“What are you looking at? I wanted to summon a familiar, not… whatever you are.” You wave a hand vaguely at his entire being, not even bothering to look up from your page flipping frenzy.
His eyes narrow further as he processes your reaction - or lack thereof. He was so used to humans freezing in fear at the mere mention of his species but you? No, you looked more bothered by his presence than anything.
“Okay, but like… you do realise I’m a demon right?” he finally speaks, the piercing on his raised eyebrow catching the light, a slight hint of incredulity lacing his words.
You just roll your eyes, waving him off. “Yeah yeah. Big, scary demon. Whatever. Can you turn into a cat or something?”
He sputters. He actually sputters, eyes bulging out of his head, as he stares down at you, with your chin propped up in your hand as you look at him, ennui etched onto your face.
“No? What — why would I—?”
“Okay so you’re basically useless. Got it.” You grumble, fingers coming up to rub at your temples tiredly.
Anndddd… now he’s offended. You’re just full of surprises aren’t you? First you summon him accidentally and have the gall to be annoyed, and now you’ve just outright offended him to his face. He wasn’t planning on staying around quite frankly, he was planning on taunting you for your (embarrassingly) poor witchcraft and then vanishing back off into his realm. But now? Oh, now, he’s interested. So interested in fact, that he’s decided he would now be staying with you, purely based on the fact that this novice witch not being scared of a demon is the most entertainment he’s received in centuries. And also based on the fact that he thought you were really, really pretty - but you didn’t need to know that. No, instead, he’ll just make you think that once you’ve summoned him, he simply can’t go back. His green eyes twinkle with mischief at the thought, small smirk on his lips, gaze still trained on your figure as you slam the grimoire shut with yet another sigh.
You’re still fixing him with an unimpressed look, hoping his next words would be something along the lines of ‘joke’s over, I’m vanishing back into hell now!’. But instead you’re hit with this:
“Well that’s a shame cos you’re stuck with me now, little witch.” He grins lazily.
“Excuse me.”
“Can’t go back.” He merely shrugs, hands shoved into his pockets as he bites the inside of his cheek to hold back a laugh as he’s met with utter silence from you.
And then.
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN’T GO BACK??” You exclaim, damn near giving yourself whiplash from the speed at which your head snapped up, eyes locking onto his face in pure, unfiltered disbelief. “You’re a demon, shouldn’t you be able to… I don’t know - poof away or something? Vanish back to where you belong?” you exclaim, throwing your hands up in exasperation, eyes wide with something caught between confusion and mounting dread.
The demon - who was still standing in your summoning circle, in your living room looking as relaxed as ever - makes a show of examining his nails.
“Nah.”
NAH???? You’re almost certain you were about to pop multiple veins from how hard you were glaring at him right now.
You swallow back any retorts, clenching your fists and taking a deep breath before speaking, wracking your brain to try and come up with any other solutions.
“Okay well if you can’t go back on your own, can’t I send you back or something?” Absolute genius idea if you ask me. But alas, it seems this demon was sent here as a reality check for your ego.
“Send me back?” A breathy, almost mocking laugh is let out before he continues, and if you were a psychic witch, you would have really wished he didn’t continue. But unfortunately for you, you’re not psychic so here you go!
“You can’t. I don’t know if you’re aware. I’m assuming you’re not since, well… I’m still here. But summoning a demon? Bit of a one-way trip, little witch.”
You just stare at him, trying to process his words. “Fuck you mean ‘one way trip’.” Make no mistake - you heard him. Very clearly in fact. Your poor soul was just in denial.
His smirk widens at your words as he hums in faux sympathy. “Mhm. Here’s a little lesson for you, I’m not sure if you’re familiar with what a lesson is but I digress. When a demon is summoned, we can’t exactly go back whether you try to send us back or whether we try to go back into our realm ourselves. Unless you know how to perform an extremely advanced banishment spell, which judging by your previous -” He pauses, eyes sweeping briefly around the living room of your cottage before settling back on you, “successes, I would be correct in assuming that you don’t.”
Your eye twitches.
He’s lying. Because all men do is lie. Demon or Human. They’re all the same. So he has to be lying. Right? RIGHT? But then again, you don’t know the first thing about summoning demons because, shock horror, you weren’t trying to summon one in the first place.
Your fingers clench on your grimoire and for a brief moment you consider throwing it at his head. You’re certain demons can’t be that durable, right? If you aimed hard enough— Okay no. Focus. Try to fix the problem first, and if all else fails then we resort to murder.
You also didn’t want to deal with the consequences of murdering an entity you weren’t supposed to summon anyways so you just settle for a disgruntled remark. “They didn’t mention this shit in the book.”
“They don’t usually mention silly mistakes.” He chimes in, ever so helpful.
You shove the grimoire off your lap, making it land on the floor with a thud as you stand up from your seated position, secretly pleased you would no longer be breaking your neck to be able to look at this man (demon? creature? whatever) but once again your hopes were crushed because you still had to crane your neck to look up at him.
“First of all, rude. Second of all, I don’t want you here.”
“Too bad, I’m staying.” He shrugs, hands shoved in his pockets.
You guessed it. Another sigh, although this one was leaning more towards a groan.
“You know what. Fine. FINE. Seeing as I supposedly don’t have a choice-” You shoot a glare at him when you hear him mutter ‘you don’t’ under his breath and he makes the gesture of zipping his mouth shut so you can continue. “What exactly are you? So I can figure out how to deal with this. Are you like, a chaos demon, a nightmare demon, a-”
“Suna.”
“Huh?”
That damn smirk is still painted on his face, eyes shining with mirth. “My name. Suna.”
“Right. Well, thank you for giving me information I did not ask for.” You mumble crossing your arms. “What kind of demon are you then, Suna?”
“The hot kind obviously,” He replies, clearly enjoying getting a rise out of you.
Nostrils flared, you took another deep breath to stop yourself from doing something the goddesses would definitely not approve of. “Not only are you useless, but you’re a smartass too. Great. Just my luck.”
“You wound me, little witch.” He dryly exclaims, hand over his heart like you had deeply insulted him.
Another sigh. Gosh, you really like sighing don’t you?
“Trust me. If I could, I would.” You mumble under your breath with a sneer up at him.
His irritating smirk turns into a somehow even more irritating grin.
Oh, you were fun. Yeah, he was 100% staying.
You, on the other hand, were seriously contemplating setting something on fire. Maybe yourself at this point, since this fucking demon made it clear he wasn’t about to be ‘poof’-ing away anytime soon.
Instead, you decide to scramble to one of your multiple bookshelves, fingers trailing over the spines of ancient tomes in search of anything remotely useful. You see him making a move to step out of your summoning circle from the corner of your eye, and your head whips round to him with a seething glare. Because, rookie or not - EVERY witch knows if anything steps out of your summoning circle before you fully accept it, well you can say bye bye to any chance of sending it back. And you know, you know he’s stuck here now because of your stupid mistake but you’re still holding on to that small glimmer of hope that one of your many, many books will tell you how to fix this.
“Step back into that damn circle, you’re far too close to the edge for ANYONE’S liking.” One foot teasingly nudges the salt, there’s a sharp flash in Suna’s eyes, lips curling wickedly. And those eyes don’t leave you as, with deliberate slowness, he lifts his foot and steps over the boundary.
“Or you could just step over haha… yep that’s- that’s fine too I guess. TOTALLY FINE.” Your barely restrained panic-laced laughter makes him break out into a smile, and if you weren’t so annoyed right now, you would have stood and admired him because, fuck he had a pretty smile. Your eyes track his movements as he languidly moves to your couch, flopping down onto it with a content sigh, arms stretched out along the back, legs spread (like an absolute slut, but who’s judging).
Your mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.
“Goddesses above, I’m so fucked.” Is all that comes out of your mouth before you turn back to your bookshelf, and you have half a mind to bang your head against it as you mumble to yourself, “Surely, surely there’s a reversal spell that can fix this. I just need to find it. ” Yeah…delusion levels have clearly reached an all time high, fingers frantically flipping through old parchment, Suna watching you with mirth like you were his daily dose of evening television.
“Y’know… it’s kinda fun watching you struggle like this.”
Evidently, this was your last straw.
Slowly - painfully slowly - you turn your head to where he’s sitting, or rather sprawled out on your couch, brows furrowed, fists clenched. You were pretty sure he could see steam coming out of your ears too.
He grins.
You glare.
Then, with one last dramatic groan, you shove the book back onto the shelf haphazardly, “That’s it. I’m done. I’m dealing with this tomorrow.”
“That’s your grand plan?” He mutters, that same incredulity in his voice, head peeking over the top of the couch.
“Yes. Because this is all a VERY bad dream, a nightmare you could say, and by the time I wake up, YOU,” Cue a menacing finger being pointed in his direction, “are going to be gone.”
“Hate to break it to you, but I’m still gonna be here.” He shrugs.
“How unfortunate.” You deadpan, before spinning on your heel, stomping toward your room. Suna watches you in amusement, his enhanced hearing picking up on you muttering something about how you’re ‘most definitely banishing him tomorrow’. His snickers echo through as you slam the door of your room, forceful enough to rattle the walls as he collapses back onto your couch, hands folding behind his head, getting comfortable.
There is no way in hell he was about to leave and miss out on so much fun. So much chaos.
For him, by the way. As for you? Not so much fun.
Good luck little witch, looks like you’re going to need it…
ミ★ notes from star: if you want to be in the tag list, let me know!!
tag list: @rowensboat
Jason Todd is the type of man who dips his hands in holy water before ever thinking of touching you.
Maybe it’s superstition. Maybe it’s the weight of sins he’s yet to confess. But it’s you—standing in the dim light of your apartment, hair a mess from sleep, eyes soft with something close to love—and suddenly, his hands feel too unclean to deserve the warmth of your skin.
He watches you from the doorway, glove-clad fingers twitching at his sides. Outside, the city hums, neon signs flickering against rain-slick pavement, but here—here, it’s quiet. Safe.
You tilt your head, an unspoken question in your eyes.
He exhales. Steps forward.
“Rough night?” you ask, voice laced with sleep as you reach for his arm, but he doesn’t let you touch him just yet.
Instead, he lifts a hand, slowly, hesitantly, and brushes the backs of his fingers against your cheek. A ghost of a touch. A prayer in motion.
Your breath stills, and he knows you feel it—the reverence, the restraint, the unspoken fear that if he holds on too tight, you’ll slip through his fingers like everything else he’s lost.
“I should wash up,” he murmurs, voice rough, edged with something vulnerable.
But you catch his wrist before he can step away, press your lips to his bruised knuckles—once, twice—before meeting his eyes.
“Stay.”
And maybe he doesn’t need such religious incantations. Maybe your touch is absolution enough.
random thoughts i have about comp sci suna and art major reader
college au ,,, this is my roman empire btw. i cant stop thinking abt this. tell me if you want more bc i have so many more random ideas abt this 😭
— the meeting
it starts with a very unfortunate event. you, running late to your figure drawing class, barrel down the hallway—only to crash into suna rintarō, sending his laptop flying.
it lands with a thud, his headphones tangle around his wrist, and you're horrified to see a small crack on his screen.
“you're paying for that,” he deadpans.
you panic. “i–uh–what if i compensate you with art?”
he raises an eyebrow. “you think a drawing of me is worth a macbook repair?”
“um. maybe?”
that's how it begins—suna, reluctantly accepting a portrait in exchange for a slightly cracked screen, and you, unknowingly drawing your way into his life.
— late night dates
suna doesn't get art. he doesn't understand why you have to spend hours mixing paint for the ‘perfect shade of blue’. you don't get coding. you don't understand why he stares at black screens with neon text for hours, only to say, “it's broken. i hate everything.”
but you both try.
he sits in your studio, pretending to be interested as you explain color theory. you bring him coffee during his all-nighters and listen as he rants about debugging.
one night, as you sketch in his dorm while he codes, he glances at your notebook.
“are you drawing me again?”
you grin. “you're my muse, duh.”
he groans, but you catch the small smile he tries to hide.
— he leaves cryptic code comments about you <3
suna has a habit of writing stupid comments in his code when he's tired, but when you check his screen, you notice things like:
// y/n is annoying but also cute
// reminder to buy them more art supplies
// if (y/n == mad) { apologize(); buy_snacks(); }
when you point it out, he immediately minimizes the window and acts like it never happened.
— the gallery opening
you invite him to your first big showcase. suna, despite acting nonchalant, actually shows up early. he's dressed nicer than usual, hands stuffed in his pockets as he waits for you to notice him.
when you finally do, he tugs at your sleeve.
“you painted me?”
you nod, suddenly shy. “you're my favorite subject.”
suna doesn't say anything. instead, he pulls you into a hug—tight, warm, and lingering.
“okay, fine,” he murmurs into your hair. “i guess i kinda like being your muse.”
random thoughts i have about comp sci suna and art major reader
college au ,,, this is my roman empire btw. i cant stop thinking abt this. tell me if you want more bc i have so many more random ideas abt this 😭
— the meeting
it starts with a very unfortunate event. you, running late to your figure drawing class, barrel down the hallway—only to crash into suna rintarō, sending his laptop flying.
it lands with a thud, his headphones tangle around his wrist, and you're horrified to see a small crack on his screen.
“you're paying for that,” he deadpans.
you panic. “i–uh–what if i compensate you with art?”
he raises an eyebrow. “you think a drawing of me is worth a macbook repair?”
“um. maybe?”
that's how it begins—suna, reluctantly accepting a portrait in exchange for a slightly cracked screen, and you, unknowingly drawing your way into his life.
— late night dates
suna doesn't get art. he doesn't understand why you have to spend hours mixing paint for the ‘perfect shade of blue’. you don't get coding. you don't understand why he stares at black screens with neon text for hours, only to say, “it's broken. i hate everything.”
but you both try.
he sits in your studio, pretending to be interested as you explain color theory. you bring him coffee during his all-nighters and listen as he rants about debugging.
one night, as you sketch in his dorm while he codes, he glances at your notebook.
“are you drawing me again?”
you grin. “you're my muse, duh.”
he groans, but you catch the small smile he tries to hide.
— he leaves cryptic code comments about you <3
suna has a habit of writing stupid comments in his code when he's tired, but when you check his screen, you notice things like:
// y/n is annoying but also cute
// reminder to buy them more art supplies
// if (y/n == mad) { apologize(); buy_snacks(); }
when you point it out, he immediately minimizes the window and acts like it never happened.
— the gallery opening
you invite him to your first big showcase. suna, despite acting nonchalant, actually shows up early. he's dressed nicer than usual, hands stuffed in his pockets as he waits for you to notice him.
when you finally do, he tugs at your sleeve.
“you painted me?”
you nod, suddenly shy. “you're my favorite subject.”
suna doesn't say anything. instead, he pulls you into a hug—tight, warm, and lingering.
“okay, fine,” he murmurs into your hair. “i guess i kinda like being your muse.”
He feels every bat of their lashes, every movement of their glances at his sleeping face, his subconscious acknowledges it, and slightly goes into fight or flight. He whines as he forces his heavy eyes to open-
Only to gasp in fear as his subconscious was right: there’s two eyes watching him, unblinking as they stare intently at him, their gaze puppyish and innocent.
He groans, “Sachie, Sachiko, please.” He presses the heel of his hand against his eye to rub them awake, “we talked about this; you can’t scare mommy and daddy awake like this.”
“We sowwy,” Sachie whimpers.
“Just wan’ some wata,” Sachiko finishes. The twins always had a knack for that- being able to finish each others thoughts and sentences.
At any other time, rintaro would be incredibly enamored by it.
Right now, however? Not so much.
Rintaro chuckles softly at their cuteness before looking to the sky, as if to ask for patience. Next to him, you whimper at all the noise, hiking the blankets higher. Rintaro smiles. “Okay, angels,” he says softly, swinging his legs from under the warmth of his covers. “I’ll get you some water.”
“T’ank you,” Sachie murmurs. Sachiko nods at her sister’s appreciation. Rintaro ruffles their hair and gets up from his bed, hands scratching his stomach as he bonelessly shambles to the kitchen. He grabs the cabinet door and opens it to retrieve two cups with lids, making sure they’re clean by sniffing them. He shrugs and makes a move to the fridge, pressing the cups against the water dispenser to fill them enough for the girls to get through the night.
He yawns as he fills the other, eyes growing heavier and heavier the longer he’s vertical, as if the sandman himself is throwing pebbles into his eyes.
He wastes no time in capping off the two cups and making his way back down the hallway to his little girls room, cocking a brow when their two tiny beds are empty.
He spins on his heel to make his way to his bedroom, and god, he’d be so mad if it wasn’t so cute.
Sachie and Sachiko, his precious terror twins, are curled up next to you in his spot, Sachie sucking on her thumb while Sachiko clings to your night shirt. The must’ve tugged you onto your side, because instead of your original position facing away from them, you’re curled against them, one of your arms strewn across them to cuddle them close. You’re drooling softly, and Rintaro can’t fathom the precious sight.
He yawns and plants the small cups on his nightstand before curling up behind Sachiko, trying to get comfortable in the all too small sliver of bed he can just barely fit on. His arm drapes over them both too, burying his face in Sachiko’s soft hair and trying his best to drift back asleep, despite the already deep cramping forming in his back for the uncomfortable position.
Not that he’d dare move them. Nor have it any other way.
TLDR I got sad and i missed the loml let a girl live
Hoping this inspires me to get back into writing again but i thought id share this small angsty hurt comfort i whipped up to make myself feel better / weasley content tbc because i really miss writing
It was hard for her to admit this to him. Just how cold the bed was on her own, the deafening silence of the apartment without his presence. Almost three months he’d been away from her, that was never the plan.
“Baby it’ll be a couple’a weeks and i’ll be back in no time, yeah?” He spoke softly, smoothing the hair down at the back of her head as she sobbed into his chest. Rintaro hated leaving, felt his heart tear in two as the tears rolled down her face, but it was work.
He could hardly break the news to her when it came. “I’m sorry princess, i’ve gotta stay… shit none of us anticipated making it to the quarters, let alone semi finals.” He could feel his world shatter as a single tear rolled down her cheek, not even able to wrap her up in his arms and take the sadness away. Tears welled in his eyes as she choked out, “But you’ll be home soon?”
Soon couldn’t come fast enough, counting down the days, eating meals alone. Suna had never felt so distant from reality, they’d spent every day together for 4 years, and now two and a half months was too much for him to take. He paced his hotel room, trying his hardest not to overthink the text he’d just received. I miss you, suna, i hope you miss me too.
Fuck, of course he missed her. This tour, it was life changing; enough to put that down payment on their forever home, even enough to get her the ring that she deserved, stashed in his bag ready for his arrival home, he wanted to provide for them. The exposure was enough to warrant a contract other players would fight for, but it was security for them. As much as it killed him to be away, he was setting things up for the future he wanted, a future that made her happy.
He hit dial, needing to hear her voice. It rang, eerily long for his liking, until the video call connected, the screen was dark and all he could hear were faint sniffles down the phone. A switch clicked on and their bedroom illuminated, showing him his puffy eyed and sleepy girl, a sight that shattered his heart into a million pieces. “Baby…”
“please don’t, rin… i don’t wanna think about it.” she sighed, every part of her missed him, the way he let her tangle her legs between his as she curled into his chest, how he traced hearts and smiley faces on her shoulder as she slept, waking up to his gentle snores and warm body, or how he pulled her in just that bit tighter when they were both sleepy.
“I’m breaking your heart, aren’t I?” He was blunt, almost too blunt. He didn’t like seeing her like this, not when he was hours away, exhausted after a day of practice and just wanting a kiss from the love of his life.
She stayed silent, tears spilling again as she clutched her bear to her chest just a little tighter. She’d made a home in Japan with him, but right now all she wanted was to be in her childhood bed, curled up and listening to the sound of the british rain against her window. “I can’t do this without you rinnie, I hate being alone.
“I’m sorry, kit… I-“ he was at a loss for words, “I hope you know that i can’t breathe without you, i can’t sleep properly, i’m totally lost without you by my side through this.”
“Then come home,” she pleaded, choking out a sob, “please, i’m begging you come home.” He watched the world around him crumble. No amount of money or exposure was worth what he was putting her through. “baby, i’ll be home soon, I love you.”
“Soon, sunarin, i love you.” She knew it wouldn’t change a thing, pressing her lips to the camera as she disconnected the call. She needed him now, but she knew she’d have to wait, for how long though was the question.
Suna had never packed a bag faster, finding everything in that hotel that belonged to him before he was out the door, flying down the expressway to her, to his heartbeat. Four hours it took him, four hours more he was separated from her.
He opened the apartment door quietly, gently placing his bag on the floor as he kicked off his shoes and set down his keys. He pattered down the hall, finding the door open and the faint glow of tokyo lights reflecting around the room, she was sound asleep.
The bear was pulled tight to her chest, salt stained cheeks now dry and he’d known she’d cried herself to sleep. Pulling off his hoodie, he gently lifted the covers and slipped back into their bed for the first time in what felt like a decade, pulling his baby into his arms.
She stirred, the faint smell of his cologne entering her senses and she curled in tighter, content in the dream of her rinnie. As she came to her senses and he didn’t fade away, butterflies erupted in her stomach, sleepy eyes peering open and she could almost cry again at the sight. “You came home.”
“And l’ll never ever leave you again, baby i promise.” He kissed her forehead, pulling her tight to his chest once again. He reached into his pocket with one hand, pulling out the small box, flicking it open behind her back. He sighed deeply, lifting the gleaming emerald into the light of her lamp, “I simply can’t live without you princess, and i want you to be mine forever, mrs suna”
suna rintaro x reader. 609 wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ timeskip suna ﾉ suna is out of the country ﾉ honestly just lovesick ramblings :3
“do you miss me?” suna asks, only his eyes and the fluffy dark hair peeking out from his hood visible on the screen of your phone. if you had to guess, he must be lying on his stomach, phone lazily tilting back in his loose hold.
“hm, i don’t know.” a crease forms between his eyebrows at your unfavorable answer. you try to stop yourself from smiling as you continue. “having the bed to myself has been nice. i haven’t had to worry about your ice cold feet waking me up in the middle of the night.”
“they’re not that cold…” you can’t see it but you can hear the pout in his voice.
“liar—they might as well be actual blocks of ice.”
with a defeated sigh, suna’s phone tips back even more, obscuring the entirety of his face, leaving you with nothing but a view of the ceiling. even his voice feels a little farther away. “maybe i’ll just stay here forever then.”
“so dramatic,” you declare with a laugh. a smile lingers on your lips even after you put the joke to rest. “i’m just kidding. of course i miss you.”
he adjusts his phone once more, finally fitting the entirety of his face in the screen. he doesn’t look convinced of your words, eyes squinted in skepticism, lips still tugged down in a small frown. “what exactly do you miss about me?”
“everything,” you tell him.
“that’s not specific enough.”
you almost call him out for being so needy but you suppose listing off a reason or two is the least you can do, considering you were the one to start all of this. “okay, i miss the smell of your cologne in the apartment.”
it’s nothing specially, really—the same fresh scent he’s been wearing for as long as you’ve known him, but the lack of it seems to make you hyper aware of his absence. like a candle you light for comfort, his signature scent has become a homey one to you, not so easily replaced by others.
your answer seems to bring suna some type of consolation, his eyes softening. the frown he wore has all but disappeared but he doesn’t let himself smile quite yet. “anything else?”
you hum thoughtfully for just a moment before something comes to you. “i miss your late night snacking and how you always share with me.”
as much as you scold him about eating so late, you’re just as guilty whenever you find yourself sitting down to enjoy ramen with him far past midnight. though, there’s something strangely peaceful about the two of you passing a warm bowl between each other in the silence of the night—when the rest of the city has gone to sleep. little moments like those make it feel like the world belongs to the two of you alone.
suna nods in acceptance of your answer, although he still isn’t willing to let you off the hook. he meets your gaze through the camera, wishing that he was able to do so in person. “one more.”
“fine…” you don’t have to think for long to come up with one final answer for him. “i actually do miss sharing the bed with you. it feels empty when you’re not here.”
that’s probably your least favorite thing about him being away—how you have no choice but to go to sleep without him beside you, how you’re forced to wake up without him near.
“i knew it.” a grin takes over his face but it isn’t victorious nor cocky—he’s genuinely happy that you’ve admitted it.
because sleeping without you is like not sleeping at all to suna.
thanks for reading! if u enjoyed, please consider reblogging or commenting ❤︎
WARNINGS // 8.6k // SMUT 18+, George x Reader // Fred x unnamed OC, Angry Fred, Racer!George, light angst, fighting, rough sex, soft sex, breeding kink af, mentions of alcohol, cars, sex, possession, praise kink, a (tiny) amount of degradation, oral, unprotected sex.
A/N // Ladies n gents we are back n better than everrr!! This has legit been sat in the WIPs for a year and I have not had the energy or motivation to get back to it until now. ps.. thank you to @darthwheezely for helping me out on this one as my co-writer, idk what i'd do without you!! pps.. stay tuned for more works in the future!
It was always good to be home. As much as George adored being on the road, there was something so blissful about waking up in his own bed, with the woman of his dreams curled tightly into his chest. This was what made it worth it.
“Good morning, muffin,” you muttered peacefully, hand reaching up to push the messy tufts of hair from his sleepy eyes. He threw his head back and groaned at your use of the corny nickname so early in the morning.
“That divorce and sweet sweet alimony cannot come soon enough,” he grinned, soon getting whacked in the face by the pillow next to you, his own hand reaching to pull you by the scruff of your neck into a sloppy kiss.
Like most mornings, George was already out of bed, walking around aimlessly in his low-slung plaid pj bottoms as he searched sleepily for either his shop uniform or at the very least something that would easily pass without Fred throwing a fit.
“Are you sure you want to leave me?” You teased, pushing yourself out of bed, letting his t-shirt fall past your hips as your feet patted along the wood floors, taking you to him. You wrap your arms around his waist groggily, forehead resting against his back as you take in his warmth.
“I’m never sure about leaving you, angel, I doubt you’ll take much convincing if I suggest lunch?”
“I’ll make your favourite sandwich and swing by later, yeah?” You smiled, giggling as he spun you around, strong hands holding your arms as he leaned down to kiss you.
“They say you’re the lucky one, but lord, woman you make me the luckiest.”
The sun was not Fred’s friend today. But honestly: no one was Fred’s friend today, not when the sun was over a hundred and two degrees in a shop with shitty A/C with his wife away playing hostess for god knows how many interviewees in that pretty black dress.
He probably wouldn’t even be this angry if she hadn’t been an insufferable prime American tease, waking up to her lips wrapped around the base of his cock and sending delicious vibrations throughout his body before pulling off right as he was about to release:
“You’ve got work today, ace, I need you to be a good boy.”
So there was Fred, as horny as a fourteen year old, deprived as a fourteen year old, and about as pouty as a toddler. Even George knew how pissy his brother had been, eyeing him rather sharply.
“You know, Freddie, It would be nice to come into work one day with you having not woken up on the wrong side of bed.” George chuckled, pulling up the bottom of his already oil-stained shirt to wipe at his jaw. The older twin stalked around him and hit him in the chest with his rag.
“Actually, I was sleeping quite well on my lovely and rosy smelling side of the bed until I got fucking booted like a small boy and-” he was briefly aware of George laughing at him and made to punch his younger brother over the hood. “- it’s not funny, you know...it’s…” he swallowed, the familiar feeling of his strawberry tint rising to the surface, “...ithasn’tbeenasrecentasyou and before you ask me how I know that, remember you’re the other half of my DNA in mum’s womb,” he childishly spat. He slid into the driver’s seat of the Mustang they were working on and began drumming the dash, his knee bouncing against the side door - a tell tale sign of his frustration.
“I thought we established that you are in fact half of my DNA, just because you were born first doesn’t mean shit.” George rolled his eyes, throwing the rag on top of the car before joining his brother in the passenger seat.
“No, because I, in fact, am the prettier twin, which means I not only had sex first, but also get more privileges such as Denny’s coupons, discounted smoothies, and more phone calls with my mother than you.” Spotting you walk into the workshop area he honked the horn a couple times and giggled, whistling when you walked in.
“Ahoy my lovely sister-in-law!” He grinned and honked once more, a loud and obnoxious greeting - so uniquely Fred.
Rolling up to the side of the car, you laughed, seeing George rub at his temples, sighing to himself over the continuous blaring horn. You leaned in against the window, poking your head into the car with a smile, pressing a kiss to George’s cheek while Fred’s smile dropped, his face forming into a stare of jealousy, quickly forcing a smile again to hide his obvious frustrations.
“Oi! Get a bloody room you two!” He huffed, honking loudly when George leaned in to kiss you again.
“Do you mind?” George gritted out.
“Yes, a bit, actually, you may have the back office for now to do somewhat lovey and sinful things but please try to be discreet, kids!” He winked salaciously and leaned forward against the wheel, his elbow cocked on the dash as he fought to not think about destroying his wife to be the second she got home. Usually racing helped, kept his mind (and libido) wandering if he felt a bit pent up - but at least for a few months or so, there wouldn’t be any release. The thought alone had him throw his head back and groan in displeasure.
“I brought lunch, wanna eat with me?” You grinned, batting your eyelashes, a move that practically had George falling out of the car, grabbing your hand as he followed you out to the back office. It was definitely hotter in the back, if you were being honest, yet that had nothing to do with the blazing sunshine but the way your fiance could have practically drank you in whole by the way he was staring.
“Stop staring, George, your eyes will go square.” You laughed, setting your bag on the table, pulling out the sandwich you had made for him, pushing it into his chest as you pulled out your own lunch.
“You know that doesn’t work with staring at humans right? Just TVs.” George retorted, walking backwards before plopping himself down on the sofa. “You didn’t happen to bring my-” You had already reached into your bag, pulling out his water bottle, something he not only had a habit of leaving at home but something he nearly always drank with lunch. Props to him for staying hydrated but after so long together you had managed to pick up on nearly all of the smaller things about him.
“What would I do without you, huh?” He smiled, taking the bottle from your hand as you slipped onto the sofa next to him, legs swinging over his thighs as you unwrapped your sandwich. This was normal for you, reminding you of the days before racing and before America, a part of you growing fond of those memories.
“You seem lost, Angel.” He muttered, hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, a worried look painting his expression. Shaking your head at him, you pulled yourself up to be straddling his hips, your nose bumping against his softly before capturing his lips into a kiss.
A part of both of you needed this, the locked lips while his hands held your hips in their place, effortlessly controlling the way they would rut against his growing bulge, both desperate for the friction. He was moaning into your mouth, his hips bucking up to meet yours as the innocence in the kiss quickly slipped away, his own desperation to have you ruling how his hands had practically ripped your shirt off of you, his lips messily pressed against the newly exposed skin of your chest.
“Shit, baby, I just wanna get those tight little fucking shorts off of you.” He groaned, hand snaking up to tangle in the hair at the back of your head as your hips continued grinding relentlessly. You were ultimately putty in his hands, moldable and pliant only for his skilled grip and teasing touch.
“No time for that though.” He chuckled, his quick fingers effortlessly slipping the material to the side before the pad of his thumb found your clit, rubbing in teasing circular motion, a loud and lewd groan falling from his lips at the feel of just how wet you were already. Your hand flew to his mouth, finger pressed against his plump lips to keep him silent.
“Not so much noise, Georgie.” You giggled, a faint moan falling from your lips as his fingers began to tease your entrance. Your own warnings of silence had fallen short the second you found yourself wrapped around his fingers, his long digits pulling desperate moans from you by the second.
“Not so much noise, angel.”
—
The elder twin had watched his brother follow you out, had seen the way his twin’s eyes had smoothed over the curve of your ass, how he’d admired your shorts and in utter and complete disdain Fred kicked the inside of the car. It was dumb, the way he was wishing he could have his girl thrown in front of a bathroom counter and force her to watch him fuck that pretty pretty cunt of his, and unknowingly slid his hand down to his jeans and started to palm.
His jaw was clenched at the thought of her slutty little stunt she pulled this morning when they both knew how wet she would get when she had her mouth around him, and gritted in a groan as he squeezed his clothed erection.
“God, fuck, love,” he panted, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans half way to slide his boxers down, his cock springing free instantly. He thought about how her cunt fit perfectly to his cock, how no matter how many times he’d slipped deliciously into her, she always seemed just as tight as the first time, meanwhile his hand loosely pumped back and forth on his shaft. This was pathetic, he knew it was pathetic, but still the idea of her underneath him while her breasts heaved and her smokey chocolate hair was strewn about the pillow had him grunting.
“God, I’m so surprised you’re not pregnant yet, with the amount of cum I stuff you with and the rounds we do in a day,” he growled, all eleven inches sunk deep into her.
“Oh, shit, baby, god, you feel so good,” he panted, his thumb tightly rolling small circles on his tip.
“Want it so bad, baby, wanna be so full and round soon as we can,” she had moaned, arching so far into his hold that he had thrusted at the same time a nipple brushed his lips and into his mouth, biting the sensitive flesh and causing her to whine.
“Such a fucking whore,” he snarled, his hips bucking up to meet each stroke of his fist, his head thrown back in ecstasy as he imagined his palm to be nothing but her - no, his - soft and soaked pussy.
His hips were jerking at the speed of sound, he didn’t really care if anyone else could hear, if anything it made him more turned on, let ‘em hear, he could give less of a shit and especially if she were here, he’d make damn sure everyone from Houston to L.A. knew exactly which racer she was getting boned by each and every night.
“Freddie, honey, please, I need you to so bad,”
“I’m right behind you, baby, goddamnit so fucking good,” and with a faint shout of her name he released, his dick twitching under his own rough touch, his eyes screwed shut at his own frustration, none of it was real, the memory of it and the smell of sweaty sex in not only hotel rooms but in cars across the country dimming his mind back to square one. He laughed harshly at his own predicament, assessing his own situation before whistling lowly.
“Fuck, I need a drive.”
—
“George, for the love of God, stop fuckin’ with the carburetor, we already checked it an hour ago,” Fred whined, leaning against the back of the car. The day had been relatively slow beyond that one car, the hour approaching about 4:30, Fred eagerly awaiting until those hands hit 6.
“We did? I could have sworn we didn’t but I wouldn’t know, would I?” George rolled his eyes, pushing himself away from under the hood, heading over to you to take the tool you aimlessly held from your hands, not before his hands pressed against your neck, pulling you into a quick kiss.
Fred went to retort, interrupted only by the grizzly rotary of the engine rev close by. He knew exactly what the sound was, the same kind of rev that ecologists blamed on the hole in the ozone, the smell lewd and hungry for attention.
It wasn’t just any old car, it had to be for racing. And sure enough it was, two in fact, fully souped up in high gear and brand new paint blinding in the Arizona sun. Fred held a hand above his eyebrows to see who it was, and George leaned back around Fred trying to do the same thing. When the cars pulled up and swerved albeit messily into the lot the twins broke into grins.
“Is that-?”
“-yeah, it’s-”
And then the car doors opened, one man rather lanky and lean and the other shorter and stocky, the rather lean one putting both his hands on his hips and clucking: “Well, I’ll be damned, freshen up then lads,” and grinned mischievously.
“DEAN!”
“SEAMUS!” They both yelled and jumped at their friends, a chorus of rowdy hugs and how are yous being traded from each of the boys.
“Alright then, boys?” Seamus quipped.
“Well, Jesus, we sure hope so, haven’t seen you since, shit what March?” George ran a hand through his hair, looking at Fred to confirm that and he nodded in response.
“Sounds about right, we’ve had to keep to ourselves - don’t want a bust like what happened to Diggory, y’know,” Seamus smirked.
“That arsehole from - shit what was his sponsor, Georgie?”
“Wonderbread,”
“Yeah, I never liked him, hits on everything that moves he does, my girl included,” Fred made his way to their mini-fridge swinging out a couple of bottled cane-sugar Coke (the only kind he and his wife ever drank, unfortunately for their bank account), and distributing them to each of the boys, passing around the bottle opener.
Dean scoffed. “Fred, you think everyone flirts with your girl and Y/N.”
“I’m a protective man, Thomas, not my fault I see a douche bag and-”
“Anyway,” George cut him off, leaving a rather pouty Fred in his place, and leaning back to sit on the hood of the car. “What brings you two ‘round then?”
Seamus and Dean visibly held their bottles a little tighter, then looked at each other.
“Well, we um...we have this thing we do on Thursdays down behind Tucson-” Seamus started.
“-not the raceway...it’s a bit more shifty, if you get it.” Dean finished, taking a swig of Coke. George studied the two for a second and finally leaned back on the car hood.
“Boys, what is this?” He asked softly, Fred shifting uncomfortably on the minifridge.
Seamus opened his mouth again, his face a great shade of crimson when Dean leapt in again.
“We do it in secret because if Indy or Nascar found out we’d all be dead but...we never really stopped racing you know. We just...we do it in the backwoods area of town-”
“Where it’s basically just sand and flat land for miles,” Seamus added, nodding vehemently.
“Count me in.” Fred spoke quickly, pushing himself up off the mini fridge and over to the two boys, a smirk hanging off his lips in anticipation of being able to put his foot to the floor again on a track, albeit a dirt-road track, it was a course nevertheless.
“Yeah, no, Fred you can’t, if the Wood Brothers find out you are never racing again.” George cut in, fingers pressed to his temple in fear of his brother’s own recklessness.
“Come on, baby brother, I think you need to loosen up a little, what do you think, y/n?” Fred’s smirk only grew as he raised his eyebrow, hoping to entice the younger twin into his lure.
“You know, Georgie, I think it would be good for you and Fred to race together, you know, just for fun...” You shrugged, staking over to George, arms wrapping around his waist, as you looked up at him with a pout.
“I suppose if those two big brains can still have jobs, we’ll be fine, right?” George sighed, feeling himself giving in, purely from a look from his girlfriend.
“That’s the spirit!” Dean smirked, a smile cracking up on Seamus’ lips as the four boys looked among each other, almost silently communicating a plan until they had erupted with laughter.
—
The clock had said 9:34, roughly 26 minutes before Fred would be ecstatically waiting for George outside his studio apartment. His neck was tilted upwards, covered in shaving cream with a bath towel wrapped loosely around his waist. The sink was littered with expensive cologne and aftershave, the first purchase he ever made after his first check at the shop, his scalpel grifting smoothly up his jawline.
Fred had learned very early on that preparation was absolutely everything, and after his little twelfth place charade - he felt his mates needed to remember that he was, for all intents and purposes, that bitch.
“Fred, baby, you home?” He heard her call out, the clanging of keys falling into the empty fishbowl on the coffee table.
“Yeah, cupcake, I’m in here,” he called out stiffly, listening to her start to rant on about the interviews at hand - none of them were ever any fun, he’d been to enough to learn that all they cared about were raunchy questions geared at his wife and female reporters flirting with him in front of studio audiences.
“...and god my feet were killing me, she wanted to walk with me all the way down the block and-“ she stopped analyzing his posture, his broad and freckled back still slightly covered in drops from the shower, his V-line angled to the side to a point where if she tugged on his hips juuuust right it would be sure to drop in one fell swoop, combined with the fact that he was shaving.
“Honey?”
“Yes, dear?” He side eyed her and smirked before turning his eyes back to the mirror, finishing the last of the area around his upper jaw and by his cheekbones.
“Are you going somewhere tonight?” She questioned, standing next to him now, looking at him directly through the mirror. He licked his lips at the sight of her minorly aggressive position and broke contact.
“Just for a bit, love, I’ll be back probably when you’re asleep.”
“And were you planning on telling me?”
“And were you planning on being a tease this morning after I gave you such a lovely time last night?”
He watched her mouth open and close as if she were about to say something and faltered, and snorted. “Yes, exactly, I thought so,” he said, turning around to grab a hand towel, splashing water on his face to rinse off the cream.
“Oh...I see what this is,” she purred. He stopped and slowly pulled his face up to the sink, setting a hand down on the sink to ground him from the massive hard on that was occurring under his towel, and turning towards her.
“What was that?”
“I think you’re a pent up, horny teenager that doesn’t like being told no,” she smiled cruelly at him and watched as Fred’s jaw tensed ever so slightly.
He rolled it gently and went to move past her but she was quicker, and pushed him backward with five painted red nails to his chest. She looked up at him and roughly scratched down his torso, causing Fred to hiss at the fresh red stripes. She slid a hand up his chest and stopped at the column of his throat, gripping ever so slightly, before leaning up to kiss him and pulling away just so he could feel her exhale.
“Have a nice night, Freddie,” she whispered before quirking a brow and grinning, prancing off to their bedroom alone.
When she was out of earshot he shakily breathed out, trying to steady his breathing and his yearning cock - he’d deal with her later for sure, regardless of his behavior or not.
It was 9:32, approximately 28 minutes before George would pick him up outside his studio apartment…
—
The twins arrived at around 10:15, the drive there filled with only uncomfortable silence at what was to come. George was a bit pissed to say the least, once again Fred was getting his way for an adrenaline run, and this time Y/N had backed him up.
George’s last place he would be right now is behind the wheel of his own fucking car.
He parked it next to Dean’s sleek, jet black chevy, his hands gripping the steering wheel ever so slightly as he leaned back against the headrest.
“You realize if we get caught we could never race again, right?” George prompted quietly.
“Here’s an idea; don’t.” Fred rolled his eyes, reaching over to flick his brother in the ear, eyebrows raised playfully.
“Yeah, no shit, sherlock.” George grumbled, turning off the ignition, listening to the signature growl of his engine grind to a stop.
“Why is it always such a bad idea to do anything fun once in a while, Georgie,” Fred grumbled, his knee bouncing against the floor of the car. “It’s not like we’ve had anything to do as of late, you know.”
“Of course, besides, hmm, I dunno, not making our sponsors upset? By like possibly following the very slight and basic set of rules we’ve been given?” George snipped, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. He sighed to himself and went to get out of the car when Fred grabbed his arm.
“Hey, you agreed to this too, you know-”
“Yes, at the behest of my lovely fiance and my snot nosed, ant thorax of a barely older brother and as such, I’m driving this thing when this shit factory of a drag race starts.” He whacked Fred’s arm away and exited the car, immediately all but smiles on his face as he went to greet his friends, a sporadic and adrenaline heated Fred on his tail.
“Well if it isn’t the two most obnoxious bastards in NASCAR,” Fred turned to see his best friend and ex-pit crew member, Roger Davies, and excitedly gripped him in a hug, hands clapping backs and tears falling down cheeks at the renewal of friendship.
“Georgie! Look, it's Rog!”
“Holy shit, not my first husband-!”
“Your only husband, Weasley number 5, and Fred can disagree all he wants,” Roger grinned and pulled both boys into a hug before whispering in their ear, “watch out for Finnegan and Thomas, boys, the cheating hasn’t stopped since last season,” leaving the twins utterly confused.
“Oi! Not another sleepover without me?” Boomed Dean from behind them. Roger immediately pushed past the two entirely confused twins and went to clap Dean on the back.
“Just getting them acquainted with the rules before a race...you know how hard it is to follow all the rules, don’t you, mate?” Roger winked and headed back to the twins, moving them back to the car as all the other drivers retreated to theirs.
“Rog, what was all that?” Fred whispered.
“Dean has been known to be a bit...well, shifty as of late with these. Always been a bit of a windy bloke, you get it, but ever since Target dropped him from the sponsorship he hasn’t really been...getting off as much in racing as he used to.” Roger nervously laughed, rubbing the back of his neck, leaning against the back of George’s car.
“By ‘cheating’ what does that entail?” George crossed his arms in repose.
“He’s always been a thrill chaser, you know this, Georgie.”
That was true, Dean had always been after a nice high. An adrenaline junkie back at primary school, Dean and Fred (as George unfortunately remembered) would feed off each other like invasive flowers, the group think of two singularly aggressive and needy young boys clouding the canopy of their friends (and brothers) with misfortune. Anything from groundings to almost arrests to nights spent aimlessly wandering the London streets in the wee hours of the morning - to Dean’s favorite: bets.
Dean would bet and bet and bet if his life depended on it and when it came to racing, if there was a bet out in his name to win, he was sure as shit going to make sure that he was the winner, this led to more and more alterations to his cars, some that even street racing frowned upon. The media never got their hands on the true reason Dean had lost his Target sponsorship; just one simple, illegal, engine part. One that gave him the lead in a race that caught him out.
“How hasn’t someone banned him then?” George laughed, looking over at his friends, only for Roger to clear his throat with a chuckle himself.
“You can’t ban someone from street racing, Georgie, not without the authority that NASCAR has.” Roger explained, pushing away from George’s car to head towards his own. “See you on the track, boys.”
“Track?” Fred choked over the words, confused thoroughly at this point.
“I don’t think we’re in for just a drag race, Freddie.” George gulped, watching Roger slip inside his car, the lights flashing on and the sounds of rumbling engines echoing through the air.
—
“What do you mean I can’t drive your car.” Fred practically whined, if his eyes rolled any harder they would be in the back of his head.
“I mean what I said, dumbass, you’re not driving my car.” George protested, his arms crossing over his chest as he stood protectively in front of the driver’s side door.
“But you’d let me drive it in a drag race, that doesn’t make any sense, like at all.”
“That was when you had to drive in a straight line, you are not putting my baby in danger just to race her round a track.”
“Your baby? George, you do realise I race too right?”
“Fuck off. You’re not driving, that’s final.”
“Yes the fuck I am, now move.” Fred was practically pushing his brother out of the way as he tried to get himself in the driver’s seat. “Twenty minutes ago you didn’t even want to be here, now you want to drive?”
“Fine.” George sighed, finally stepping aside, only to grab the back of Fred’s shirt. “One scratch and you’ll be fixing it, either that or I’ll break you.”
“I’m not gonna crash the car, George, now get in.” Fred slid inside the car, George following suit on the passenger side. Fred went to pull out of the space that George had parked the car in, only to stall, dropping the clutch out of excitement, causing his younger brother to yell, out loud and quickly.
“Nope! I’m not doing this.”
“Fucking hell, George, shut up I can drive.”
—
There was something about the way tires kicked dust up as they sped around the dirt track that had Fred on edge. This race was unlike anything he’d ever seen or been a part of before, if he was being brutally honest it was exhilarating to be doing something like this, much more so when his brother was sat in the passenger seat. He didn’t need to look over or even take his eyes off the road to know that George was already being hypercritical of Fred’s driving skills, especially when the livelihood of his pride and joy of a car lay in another’s hands.
If George were gripping the steering wheel in that moment, his knuckles would have been well and truly white, watching clouds upon clouds of dust spray over the freshly washed exterior of his car. Instead, George’s hand was dripped tightly on the door, bracing himself for the sharp corners and bumpy jolts, thinking about how all the up and down was surely going to fuck his suspension.
Fred laughed to himself, but mostly at the way his twin was acting, almost as if George hadn’t spent most of his adult life behind the wheel of a car driving faster than any other man would dream of. Fred shouted over the roar of the engine “Jesus, Georgie, let loose a little will you?”
“I’d be way less uptight if you would have just let me drive.” George replied, sighing to himself, a small ‘woah’ falling from his mouth at the feeling of the back wheels spinning.
“It’s a bit fucking late for that decision.” Fred laughed back, passing a car that had the unfortunate and untimely end of spinning themselves off the joke of a track. Once the dust parted and George saw the mess in front of him, his eyes widened, heart racing if it could have beaten any faster.
“I will kill you if you do that.” the younger man grumbled, watching Fred speed past car after car, pushing them up the ranks.
“I told you I won’t crash your precious car… I’m starting to think you love her more than your lovely lady.” Fred bit his lower lip to stop himself laughing at his own comment. Looking up in the rear view mirror, he spotted the glistening black and bright blue of Roger and Dean gaining on the lead the twins had.
It was nearing what Fred hoped to be the end of the track, watching as the finish line grew nearer with every second. In what seemed to be all at once, a loud revving came in from Fred’s Left, The lightning bolt blue car overtaking George’ in a matter of seconds, pushing right past the finish line without a care in the world. Following closely in second was Dean’s beauty of a car, Fred managing to keep right behind his two friends, pulling third rank in the race.
—
Fred was the first out of the car, slamming the door behind him as his rage was starting to bubble out from his lungs. George hurried to catch up with his older brother, the look in his eyes and his body language evident that nothing short of violent impulsivity would amount from the situation. Fred pushed past Roger, ignoring the pleas for peace, he was never mad at Rog, Rog deserved a top rank, but his anger was centered towards Dean.
Dean needed a nice loss.
“Oi, Thomas.” He got closer to the man, Dean turning around slowly, a haughty sense of pride glazed on his face. “What’s wrong, Freddie, I’d figured after your little twelfth place at the table third should be a nice welcome to you,” he drawled, before Fred lunged at him, getting held back only by Davies.
“Aw, does poor little Freddie still need a babysitter?”
“Open that mouth one more fucking time-”
“Fred-” Roger stuttered.
“No,” he pushed from his grasp and proceeded to get inches from Dean’s face
Dean smirked and leaned back to grab a beer from the cooler beside him. “Fred. Your little tough guy act doesn’t scare me anymore, you know that.”
George stepped up next to Fred, “It’s not an act, mate, I think you know us well enough by now to get that we don’t take kindly to cheaters,” he said softly, rising to his full height.
Dean immediately leaned back at the sight of the two gingers, and even going as far as shrinking at the pure sight of Roger Davies, not as tall but definitely as intimidating, standing between them.
“The track never did cater to a liar, Thomas, we figured you’d know that by now,” Roger added quietly.
Dean scoffed, the adrenaline clearly rising in his chest, as the men behind him started to eye each other, the violence of the situation reaching a silent all time high. “I’m not gonna take shit from a losing tosser, his stooge of a younger brother, and a dumb blonde-“
Fred had launched himself all the way forward, his index and thumb forming a U shape as he grabbed Dean’s face, slamming it directly into the window. Dean struggled in Fred’s grasp, lifeless and sloppy fists flying in every direction possible. When Fred finally pulled off the boy and began to walk off, a smug and bloody smirk gracing his haughty face, Seamus lunged forward, a punch matching the back of Fred’s head.
A full on fight occurred, George rushing forward to slam Seamus to the ground, dust flying in every which way under the artificial lights. Fred had taken to pummeling Dean as if he was losing himself entirely in aggression.
The twins had always had an aggressive streak - but it had rarely been released in their current younger years of “adulthood.”
Amongst the mess of brawling fists and kicked up dirt, Roger had managed to summon the presence of one of the two Weasley girls - you, the understanding quick thinker with a tendency to be for whatever your boyfriend did and Fred’s Wife, the american firecracker who rarely took no for an answer.. When you had arrived, Rog and George were stopping Fred from lurching at Dean once more, Instead you were focused on the graze that lay above George’s brow, taking a deep breath and shaking your head at just how reckless he had become.
“George Weasley, I swear to fucking god you bastard.” You shouted, pulling him up by his bicep and pushing him back against his dust-covered car. “One night I leave you, One night and you end up in a back street race nearly getting your ass handed to you by Dean fucking Thomas-”
“It was Seamus, actually-”
“Not the fucking point, George.” you slapped his chest, only for him to wrap his arms around your waist, keeping you pulled close, a small smirk hanging off his lips.
“Fred said I needed to let loose, and I did and it was the best fun I’ve had since the end of season… but that obviously isn’t what I should be saying… I’m sorry, really am.”
You rolled your eyes, a sigh falling from your lips as you rested your head on his chest, with all the stress that NASCAR had given him, it really was the best thing that he was getting some actual joy in his free time. “At least you had fun.”
-
You knew you couldn’t be mad at him for long, not with the puppy dog eyes he was giving you as he knelt down on the floor, elbows resting on the mattress to look at you. Part of him realised that he needed to not piss you off any more than he already had, after all it was a little more than what you were expecting from him and with so much on the line after all of his hard work you were more mad at the fact he would so easily chance it.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” He quipped, a small smile on his lips as he stretched his back out, leaning forward across the mattress, fingertips grazing over your knee.
“You know what you’re doing.” You sighed, trying to look away from him, only to feel his full firm grip squeeze at your thigh.
“I’m just trying to apologize to you.”
“Yeah right.”
“I know how much you gave up to be here with me, for us, for me to achieve my dreams and I only went and nearly threw it away for a cheap race and I’m sorry.”
His eyes were glassy, filled with a sadness that you only recognised from the day he left for America, he truly was sorry for what had happened.
“I want to make it up to you, princess.” He pushed himself up onto the bed, his head resting on the pillow, your eyes never leaving him as you watch him shift to get comfortable.
Your hand reached out to brush the hair out of his eyes, watching his eyes flutter closed as a small sigh fell from his lips. You were quick to shift so that you lay next to him.
“There’s nothing to make up for, Georgie.” You smiled softly, shifting slightly closer to him, feeling his hand drape lazily over your side. Something about seeing him so vulnerable made you want to protect him with your whole heart and yet he was always the one to protect you.
“There’s everything to make up for, my love.” He smirked, leaning in to nudge his nose against yours softly before pressing a small kiss to your lips. “Just let me make you feel good.”
“George you don’t–” You went to protest, but he was quick to cut you off with another kiss, this time his hand gently pulling your hips closer towards him.
“I know just the way to make things up to you.” He pushed himself up slowly, arm wrapping around you to lay you down on your back, finding his place between your thighs, your legs either side of his hips.
His hands slowly raked up your thighs, finding his way up to your hips, fingers hooking underneath the waistband to pull the material down your legs, leaving you bare from the waist down. You had almost forgotten how much of a tease George could be, the way his fingers had quickly found your clit, the long digits finding your entrance soon after, only to warm you up.
Positioning himself with your legs hooked over his shoulders, he drew in a breath, releasing the cool exhale over you as you sighed frustratedly, hips bucking to try and get some friction if any, only for his hand to push your hips back down, a chuckle falling from his lips.
The second his tongue was licking a prominent stripe along your aching pussy, you were well and truly putty in his hands. Each flick of his tongue had you squirming, unrestrained moans falling from your lips as the pleasure built.
It didn’t take him long to attach his lips to your clit, sucking relentlessly at the bundle of nerves, his fingers pushing knuckle deep into you, curling up to hit your favourite spot, having you a wordless mess of nothing but moans of his name.
“Such a pretty thing you are, baby.” He hummed, thumb coming up to circle over your clit as he watched the way you had thrown your head back, your hands finding his hair to pull him back down needily, earning a chuckle from him.
His tongue continued its work, pulling you closer and closer to release with every flick. He didn’t let up until your thighs were shaking and your chest heaving, mind clouded only with thoughts of him and how lucky you were.
—--
Fred Weasley got home all too late, the door closing a bit louder than the man had wanted behind him. The slightly elder Weasley crept from the doorway to the bedroom, careful to mind the light creaks in the hardwood floor, taking every ounce of stress on his feet to avoid any miscalculations.
When he got to the bedroom, he saw the woman he loved, asleep no doubt by the sight of her mussed hair and lightly agape expression on her lips. Fred exhaled slowly, what he thought was quietly, until he heard her voice clearly say:
“So where were you?”
The man before her felt his heart thump harder than he felt when his own mother would corner him in the kitchen, the memories of sneaking out and sneaking back only to return with a-
“So are you going to tell me where you were?”
“Out.”
“No, really?” She spat, sitting back up and clicking the lamp on, her face etched with rage.
“I waited up for you the entire night, the least I probably deserve is an explanation.”
“Well, love, you didn’t seem to want to talk to me earlier, so I guess the lack of communication goes both ways, now move over.” he said briskly, beginning to take off his shirt. When she didn’t move, her face unwavering in anger, he rolled his jaw, swallowing back and refusing to feel the light effervescence of guilt in his throat.
“I said m-”
“I’m aware. See, Fred,” his wife exited the bed, and unfortunately for him, she was clad in only the black satin nightie he had gotten for her after his first big win. The guilt was rising now, as was something else low on his hips.
“Sweetheart, I’m sorry, okay? I am, I-”
“Interrupt me again, and you get the couch, got it?” He nodded, his eyes drawn to the tears welling up in hers. “Fred, I’m your wife now and-and knowing my husband, my husband was out doing god knows what or who for that matter and has the audacity to come back in at three in the morning and be pissed at me? Who the hell are you?”
“I was racing! I was racing alright, and I’m sorry, I’m sorry I-I came in late and made you pissed because I love you and I am never going to do this again but God can you please put something else on so I can focus correctly-” and then he was kissing her, and somewhere deep in his cerebral cortex, this was probably unbearably toxic, for him to start apologizing angrily for the shit that he put her through but-
“God, you are a piece of fucking work aren’t you?” She snarled, already beginning to unbuckle and unzip his pants.
“But ‘m your piece of work, and currently,” he spat back, mouth melding in a messy and unkempt addition to hers, the entire situation wholly and completely Fred in every way possible, as he shed himself of his shirt and picked her up, “-I’d like to be fucking you.”
It didn’t take him long to pitch her body on the bed, his wife scrunching delectably at his fiery hair and his own ropy and iron hands squeezing at the bottom of her bare thighs. It had been long, too long, and with the already latent tension from their little bathroom incident earlier in the day - there wouldn’t be any denying Fred nor his girl of a quick, ravenous fuck tonight.
“Missed you so much, baby,” she whined, yanking his head up to mold herself to him in a heated kiss, the man atop her not needing to be shown twice at her action. “Missed you more, had me fuckin’ twitching and creaming in a car earlier, you did,” he chuckled, arousal thick and evident in his tone.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” He rasped, his eyes scrunching close as one of her delightfully un-dainty and gently calloused hands palmed him over his boxers. “God, wanted you so bad, baby, wanted to just drop the towel and have you on the sink, then ‘n there.”
“You mean that?” She said shakily, as he kissed her one last time before sliding down her body, his lengthy digits trailing down above him.
“God, absolutely, and if I look under here I wonder if - oh look at that, ‘was right, wasn’t I?” Much to her disagreeing whine, he sat up on his heels, his damn near naked body covered in sweat, his myriad of constellations adorning his chest like only the finest stars in the night sky. He looked up at her, the face only him or his twin could make, rum eyes bright and full of mischief, but also something else more sinister as his fingers trailed up her thighs.
“Fred, please-”
“‘Got you, baby, don’t you worry about me,” he mused, lazily almost, while his fingers drifted higher up the apex of her thigh before-
“No.” She said simply.
“Shit, I’m sorry do you want me to stop-?”
“No.” Fred’s wife, almost too fast for him to register, threw her left thigh around his waist, gathering momentum from her other leg fast enough to get him on his back, effectively pressing her hand to the center of his chest before all he could say was:
“Didn’t know you could do that, love,” he drawled, a quirk of a brow and a little smile on his face.
“You didn’t know I could do a lot of things, Freddie.” She shot back, bringing her nails up and in to scratch at his bare chest, her hips rolling to his and rubbing his tip under his boxers so well he thought he was going to explode.
“You have any plans beyond making me cum in m’pants, dear?” He hummed, his hands reaching up and under her satin to cup and squeeze at her bare ass.
“I was planning on making you cum so hard your ears pop, actually.”
“Merlin, woman, get on with it then,” he groaned, her laugh bubbling in his ears like champagne as her nails abandoned their spot on his broad chest to the hills and valleys of his v-line, the light grazing and nimble touch causing a wanton moan to erupt from the back of his throat along with a small, “fuckin’ hell, petal.” He watched with rapt but seemingly pained eyes as she slowly - too slowly, for his personal taste - began to lift her hips and grind the tip of his erection, his palms getting more clammy as he waited with need for her to sink onto him - if she’d even give him that.
But all too soon, she stopped her rolling onto his cock, making him swear at the loss of contact. “Goddamnit, fuck me already.”
“Oh, Freddie,” she preened, moving a hand back to cover one of his own sliding it to her soaking cunt, “after how bad you’ve been today? And you think I’m gonna reward you? Baby…” she drawled, reaching down to squeeze his thick cock, the action alone making him grunt and his neck veins pulsate with life.
“‘Do anything y’want, anything,” he whined, desperately trying to fuck his hips up to meet her friction. He knew his wife would push him, push him to the absolute limit until his dick exploded and his throat gave out from how hard he’d be screaming, she’d done it before, but it was so late, and God, he needed to bury himself deep in the milk and honey of her sex before it was too late.
“Then you have to be a good boy, Freddie, remember?”
“I know, I know, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry, ma’am,” he babbled, the pleasure and lack of stimulation running through his veins. “Please,” he whimpered, his voice small and pliant like rubber.
She cocked a brow at him, curling her shiny red nails around his chin and gently tilting him toward hers.
“Been so bad, baby boy, but I guess ‘m gonna have to give you a treat some time…you just look so delicious like this,'' she purred, moving her hands to the swell of his bulge, delighting in the whine that escaped his throat like the rush of water in a stream (or something a bit more sinful in its entirety.) Fred’s wife swiftly lifted his cock free from it’s confines, his hands coming immediately to steady at her hip bones and kneading greedy circles into the tough skeleton.
“Ready f’me, precious?”
“Fred, don’t be pretending you’re the one on top at present,”
“Good Lord, woman, stop the banter and rock already.” The two chuckled breathlessly at Fred’s words, his wife pressing an airy kiss to his red and puckered mouth before bringing her cunt to just barely graze his tip, a movement that had the ginger subjected to her ministrations roll his eyes back and murmur a throaty “fuck” against her lips.
“Baby, please-“
“I know, Freddie, my love ‘ve got you,” she whispered before finally sinking down onto him, both partners releasing hisses and throaty moans at the feeling of being one.
It took no time at all for the ginger beneath to bring his hands to her now bouncing ass, guiding her roughly to every ridge of his cock. She was sloppy, the ride of pushing Fred’s high further and further to the forefront of his system. Fred oh the other hand had started to spastically fuck up into her now, moaning out her name the more he listened to the sound of her wet cunt being slid up and down on his thick cock.
She was close, dangerously close, the feeling of his balls clapping against the bottom of her ass in time with her pants. Fred was in nirvana, the way the light graced the sides of her face making her look like the most fallen of angels when-
“Fred, I can’t, I, please”
“I know, bub, ‘m right there with you,” he coaxed, all too soft in contrast with the rampant fucking he was giving her, waiting until he could feel her about to soak his cock before flipping her over, almost too quickly throwing her legs around his waist and thrusting further than what he thought was possible. His hands gripped hers and somewhere in his mind he blacked out against the feeling of the black satin rubbing against his torso.
“Baby-“
“Fred-“
Fred relished the feeling of her collapsing around him, his back fully extended as he rolled softly and slowly into her to push them through their conjoined high. He loved this, he always had, how her body heaved gently under his and his hands and mouth could whisper sweet nothings into her skin, soothing her form and giving her all the love he could possibly muster.
“I am sorry you know, bub.” He finally said after a while, his hands rubbing back and forth on her thighs.
She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his nose and then his lips, smiling lightly against his mouth as her eyes fluttered shut, “yeah, yeah, I know.”
“Just…don’t do it again okay-?” She whispered.
“Baby, you know I won’t. Scout’s honor ‘n all-“
“You didn’t let me finish, Weasley!”
“Well, then what’s the rest of it?”
She smiled at him before craning her lips to his ear: “next time you drag race, I better watch.”
She giggled when he threw the covers above their heads.
—
It was two days later, the sun blaring just as brightly as it had when Dean Thomas proposed a drag race, and now, as the front door bells jingled an entrance, the twins had done something they didn’t last time.
“We’re closed,” they both said flatly, not looking up from the respective cars.
“Even for me?” A familiar voice asked the boys, causing them both to raise their heads.
“Sirius!” They both squawked, the lanky men scrambling to their feet to hug their favorite agent, the older man hugging them back immediately.
“Why’ve you come from LA?”
“Yeah, is something wrong? I can guarantee you whatever it was it was 100% George’s fault-”
“Fred.”
“Sorry.”
Sirius released a small smile that had been tugging at his face the whole interaction. “Boys, I’ve got a bit of an announcement for you.”
“And what would that be?” George asked suspiciously. Fred looked out the corner of his eye at his twin, and all Sirius did was throw his hands out and up.
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