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lilystyles · 3 days

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part three of style, written by @lilystyles

my masterlist xx & style masterlist

authors note I AM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG??? UR SUPPORT HAS BEEN AMAZING I LOVE U ALL SM ALL UR ASKS R SO SWEET. LOVE U LOVE LOVE U. IM SORRYYYYYY UNI SUCKS RN!!! ENJOY ANGELS <3333333

brief description niall throws the party of the century, and harry gives y/n a gift.

warnings! slight age gap, smutty (daddy kink, romantic sex, m!receiving, f!receiving, steamy, dry humping) sexual tension, drugs and alcohol abuse, fratboys. (wordcount: 11k)

fratboy!older!bffsbrother!harry x younger!innocent!reader

* * * * *

Harry Styles, for what felt like the first time ever, was jealous.

It had now become obvious to Harry, that he is definitely a jealous person when he loves someone.

Which had never happened to him until her, he’d never cared enough to be jealous. He couldn’t care less normally, and he never really understood feeling possessive. It used to turn him off so much when someone was possessive over him, he hated the idea of being tied down and suffocated. His ex-girlfriends could and did cheat him and Harry didn’t care, he was young and wanted to have fun. He didn’t blame others for enjoying themselves. He moved on without the bat of an eye, and he never held grudges over it.

Life was about feeling good, having fun, and enjoying yourself. And before Y/n that meant mindless sex, parties, and smoking in pretty girls’ beds. He knew for a lot good girls that his past would be a major turn off, he honestly didn’t remember half the people he’d shagged, but he didn’t care. Life was a bunch of fleeting moments for him.

But lately, his feelings about possessiveness were different. His feelings for Y/n were all-consuming and so strong he didn’t know what to do with himself, he felt like his world was flipped upside down. He didn’t know how to ground himself, he felt like he was floating, and so far from his feet. When it came to Y/n he cared. A lot. Too much.

He found that even the way people were looking, just looking, at her right now was enough to have him clenching the can of beer in his hand. His fist tightly squeezed around it, imagining it was the jugular of whoever was walking in her direction that wasn’t him. And despite the fact he could understand people hitting on her because seriously she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever had the pleasure of knowing, that didn’t matter to him. Y/n owned every inch of him, and he felt like he’d made it clear she was belonged ot him too.

Harry found himself watching her intensely from across the room, eyes locked directly on her pretty little perfect figure. Which was unlike him normally he was off causing mischief and getting incredibly out of his mind drunk and high. Probably get a blowie outside by the pool.

But she was so striking, and he felt like he was in a trance. She stood out from the swarm of people like the brightest star in the sky, her h/c shined under the lights catching his attention immediately when he walked into the room. Y/n just looked so fucking gorgeous, like the embodiment of beauty, and everything Harry loved was embedded in her very being. He couldn’t have ripped his eyes away even if he’d wanted to.

If he had to describe her in one word right now, he’d say entrancing. She looked…well it took his breath away how beautiful she was. Harry always found Y/n very beautiful but tonight she looked especially scintillating. He wasn’t sure if it was her outfit or the fact his infatuation was growing by the second each day, but wow.

He wanted her so badly.

Her face was flushed from alcohol and the heat of the room, a soft pink that was similar to the shade of her lips, and a glisten of sweat coated her from the sweltering evening, making her look like an ethereal being that Harry adored. God, she was adorable. He could see her giggling, nose scrunching and all smiley. He couldn’t hear her, but he wished he could. She had the cutest laugh known to man.

And there it was, that itchy jealousy and annoying possessiveness rolling through his veins as he watched her laugh with another boy.

His green piercing eyes fell further down her figure. Her costume was fitting. The little dress she wore was very short, so short that the bottom of her plush ass was almost peeking out of it and Harry’s thoughts turned from wholesome to not-so. He’d never seen her wear that dress before, but if he had anything to do with it she wouldn’t even be wearing one and she’d been in his bed with the flimsy material on the floor. The material of her dress was almost a second skin, the silky white material left very little to the imagination except for where it puffed out at the bottom like a tutu. Her tits were round, the perfectful mouth for him to suckle on, nipples hard and obvious pressing against the satin material.

However, her luscious legs and smooth skin were the stars of the show tonight, Harry had been lucky enough to feel those wrapped around him, so he knew how soft they were. In that dress, her legs looked so long, the sight of her made his blood rush through him faster, almost like he was high. He’d only had one beer, so he didn’t know what had made him so dazed.

Harry wouldn’t be surprised if his prick was hard in his pants, he didn’t have it in him to feel ashamed. It got like that when he smelt her perfume on his clothes after being with her all day. Y/n had an unfathomable power and control over him, that she hadn’t even known she possessed. It didn’t take make much to get him budged up like that anymore, if Y/n crossed his mind then boom, just like that his prick was begging for his fist.

Harry kept watching her protectively. A few guys were leering close by, and he didn’t like it one bit. Instead of looking at the boys, he turned his attention back to the details of her dress. The top of it had puffy short sleeves that made her look adorable, and the neckline showed her perfect tits sitting comfortably and plump. That little necklace of her initial sitting between them, it sparkled under the dim light.

He bit his lip, and the beer in his hands was no longer enough to distract him. He licked his lips and calculated how he’d get her alone with him tonight. For once, Emma was sticking to her like glue. His sister normally found a way to disappear off and get herself sickly drunk, and with some lad. They had that in common, neither ever one to mingle unless it was for a shag or a spliff.

But not right now, no Emma stayed close by her side, talking to Zayn and a guy Harry thinks is called Liam. Harry’s jaw clicked, teeth clenching as he watched Liam’s eyes linger a moment too long at Y/n’s chest. His fist clenched by his side as he tried to breathe.

Shutting his eyes only for one second to remind himself to get his lungs working.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

As he repeated those two words in his mind, the only thing he could that he wanted to go in and out was his prick inside of her perfect sweet pussy. He wanted her pressed nice and close to him, he wanted to hold her, and press his cheek to her head and shut his eyes. Maybe then he’d be able to breathe normally. He certainly couldn’t from over here, and now as stood across the room he realised maybe all those girls sobbing hysterically with ice cream in their dorms over his frat brothers weren’t so crazy, and maybe those idiots who ran through airports weren’t really idiots. Just people madly, stupidly, overboard, in love.

This absolute possessive carnal caveman rage was something Harry hated because he knew it was stupid. But God the thought of anyone even looking at what was his pissed him off beyond the point of sanity. Y/n was a fucking beautiful little thing, she always had been, all innocent and soft, the kind of girl you wanted to scoop up into your arms and take care of.

And he wanted to do just that. He wanted to take care of her and keep all harm from her direction. He didn’t care if he was getting obsessive with his staring, he couldn’t stop.

He smiled at the little furry feathered halo that sat on her head, wings decorating the soft exposed skin on her back, and glittery cheeks that sparkled like magic under the pale blue lights of the room. She looked ethereal. His real-life angel and she was dressed the part too. Little fluffy white heels decorated her feet that he was sure would look better by his shoulders as he made her melt around him like he had every intention of doing.

He really was the devil for thinking that way. But that’s who he was, and her unforgettable sweet pussy had infiltrated his mind. He smirked silently to himself because he knew despite their total differences and things that got in the way of them, the world had made them for each other.

Moulding his hand to fit perfectly around hers. Like a sculpture with his clay, the world carved Harry just for her, and Y/n just for him. He was more sure of it than anything in the world.

Even if she didn’t know that yet, he was more than certain.

So Liam could just right fuck right off, that was his angel. Anyway, who comes as a basketball player when you already are one? How lame is that costume? Harry hadn’t worn his football clothes here and called it a costume. Even he wasn’t that bad.

Harry hadn’t tried as hard as Y/n had with his get-up. The only thing to give away his costume was the cheap plastic red horned headband hidden in his curls. He was in a pair of black jeans, and a black t-shirt, nothing special. He didn’t fancy costumes all that much. But he thought that Lucifer likely didn’t give a fuck about his outfit, at least that’s what he’d told Niall when the bloke almost didn’t let him inside due to his very shitty costume.

Y/n hadn’t noticed Harry yet, despite his icy green eyes boring into her skin for the past twenty or so minutes. He’d been lurking in a corner away from her sight. But when Emma left with Zayn to who knows or who cares where, he made his way over quicker than a blink of an eye. Liam noticed him first, and Y/n felt a warmth radiating near her back which made her spine shudder.

Must be Styles. She thought but didn’t turn, waiting for him to speak first.

“Oh hey, Mate.” Said Liam offering a wave. Liam and her had a physics class together and she was complaining to him about the professor and how she was pretty certain she was going to fail the class.

Harry’s chest pressed into her side and she finally turned, smiling up at him. A soft delicate one that made Harry’s lungs finally kick back into working like normal. Heart beating fast, as he thought to himself, oh there you are heart.

Being with Y/n was like realising he’d spent his whole life without oxygen but now he had air.

“Hi.” He said curtly to Liam, moving his eyes to Y/n’s precious ones, and he could feel Liam watching them. She really had no idea how badly every man in this room wanted her. How didn’t she notice the staring? The whispers? How did she seem so calm when she was like a baby lamb in a room full of wolves?

“Can you come and help me with something please, Trouble? Niall asked after us.” He asked leaning down close so his mouth shadowed her ear. He was lying, but he wanted her alone, and Emma wouldn’t notice. She was already incredibly drunk and he knew that because she was already dancing on a table in the dining room.

Y/n nodded squeaking out a soft sure, and she slid her palm around his bicep, thoughtlessly and instinctively. When they went off campus, and spent time together they always held each other close.

His body was so warm and welcoming, she was used to being close to him now. He brought her so much comfort, and Harry felt smug at the way Liam’s face dropped at the sight.

Yeah, suck it, stupid basketball player. He thought. Butterflies fluttering through his tummy at the feel of her hand on his arm.

Y/n hardly had a chance to wave goodbye to Liam before Harry had dragged her away hands melting into her skin. Everything with him felt so natural. Their physicalness was normal now, and she hardly noticed it as much as that first night. It felt routine and safe, and she loved it. He never did that with anyone except her, which made her heart flutter in a strange off-beat rhythm.

Despite having always been a sexual creature, he wasn’t touchy with people he slept with outside the bedroom. He wasn’t the type. But he honestly couldn’t keep his hands off Y/n.

He guided her upstairs leading her into a random room, and shutting the door behind them. It was a fairly clean room, and Y/n soon recognised it was Niall’s. She guessed by the rainbow flag hung up by his posters, and of course, the biggest sign was an Ariana Grande poster. He fancied the pants off her, and would always play her songs in the car. If they went to karaoke which sometimes they did, Niall always without a shadow of a doubt sang Ariana. Despite the fact his throat could not at all easily sing that high-pitched.

She walked over to sit on the edge of the bed, her dress riding up ever so slightly at the movement. Niall had these pale dusty blue sheets and they smelt like citrus and wood on the bed. She never came into his room, or even to the frat house because, well, it’s a frat house.

Harry walked over to her towering over her, cutting her thoughts of their best friend from her mind. His hand moved to touch her cheek, the curve of her skin was searing hot and Harry could feel her melt into his hand.

“Hi, Styles,” She whispered shyly, lips moving as slow as molasses dripping off a spoon. He knew for a fact she tasted just as sweet too.

He smirked down at her, God he wanted to just eat her right up. She was looking up at him all doe-eyed, her little hand creeping underneath his shirt. She was so cute, so fucking adorable. He could feel the gentle caress of her nails against his hip and he felt his skin pimple in goosebumps.

“Hi, Baby.” He replied, moving to sit down beside her. His large, muscled, thigh pressed into hers emitting a warmth she welcomed. Her hands fell into her lap now as she watched him through hooded eyes.

She blushed some more, “What does Niall need our help with in here?”

Harry laughed and it bellowed out, as he placed a soft hand on her knee. Her skin was soft like butter, and he rubbed her knee tenderly. She was perfect, in every sense of the bloody word.

“Nothing, I just wanted you to myself, Trouble.”

She giggled, and it made Harry’s chest swell. He loved her. He loved her so much.

“Oh I see,” She said, her hand landing on his. He slowly dragged his hand further up her leg and couldn’t wipe the smile off his face for the life of him.

“You look fucking beautiful, by the way,” He whispered, squeezing her thigh.

She smiled brightly, and she leaned over to smear a quick kiss on his jaw. “Aw, thanks Styles, I went all out because I knew Niall would have my ass if I didn’t dress ‘properly’.”

Harry laughed, tipping his head back. “Well, I’m certainly enjoying you like this. You look…Jesus Y/n, I mean, are you trying to kill me? You really are trouble, aren’t you gorgeous girl?”

She pouted at him leaning in closer, he could smell her perfume and shampoo so heavily now and he was intoxicated by it. Y/n smelt so good, and the scent of her grounded him. He wanted to keep her right here all night, and maybe he would if he was lucky. Y/n didn’t seem to be in a rush to leave their little bubble.

And she knew Emma was very distracted with Zayn, they were still going out. But honestly, Y/n didn’t suspect they’d last much longer, she could already sense her best friend’s restlessness. It wasn’t anything that Y/n judged, but Emma never stayed with a boy longer than a month. She used to think it was a Styles thing, but Harry hadn’t been with anyone else in months, not since that night they shared.

“Am not.” She said, faking petulance. He leaned down close enough that his lips just grazed hers, and she wanted so badly to join their lips. But she didn’t know if that was what he wanted, so she just waited.

“You so are.” He replied.

She leaned into his neck with a sigh, he smelt like always; mint, tobacco, vanilla, and something undeniably Harry. He was intoxicating and the drink she’d had made her blood rush with a want that thumped so intensely. She wanted Harry, so badly, and her control was wilting away with each second that passed.

The devil had a magic spell on the angel.

“Can I kiss you, Trouble?” He asked softly, pushing a strand of loose hair behind her ear. He noticed a pair of dangly pearl earrings and untangled the hair from them.

Y/n was amazed by how soft and gentle he was with her. She’d imagined him to be a lot cooler, icy, and most of the time he played the part brilliantly. Before that night in the kitchen, all Harry had been was a cold-hearted frat boy who she thought was sexy. Because that’s all he pretended to be around her before this.

She hadn’t known hiding underneath the cool exterior was a warmth more scorching than the sun.

She giggled at him, eyes shutting for a second, before open to see him smiling back at her. “Do you even have to ask that? Isn’t it obvious I’m dying to kiss you, Styles?”

He rolled his eyes, smirk growing even bigger. “C’mere.”

She shifted closer swinging both her legs over his lap and scooting so close their chests pressed together. She felt her heart speed up at the thought of their lips becoming one. Harry was the one to lean down and connect their lips together in a soft gentle greeting. She tasted like rum and peaches, and he sighed at the taste. He’d wanted to do that all night, and he was relieved to have finally fulfilled his wish. Her soft hands had found their way onto his cheeks, and his hand landed on her waist to keep her nice and snug against him.

It wasn’t long until the little breathy sounds she was making had him needy for her, his tummy curled in desire. And in a hurry of want, he pulled her onto his lap properly and she squealed quietly. Laughing against her lips, he smiled. Pulling away to whisper, “I missed you, so much.”

She rolled her eyes. “You saw me like an hour ago.”

She saw him before they arrived. Having got ready at Emma’s, he’d seen her before she was dressed and left for the party. He snuck a quick peck on her lips while Emma was in the shower before he left. The sneaking around was getting more bold, and Y/n knew she should tell Emma soon but she just didn’t know how.

Plus what were they? She could hardly say ‘Hey Em been shagging your brother for a bit.’

Harry shrugged at her words. “I don’t care, I miss you the second you’re gone.”

Her lips landed on his cheek, leaving a kiss print of pink and she giggled, thumb coming up to wipe it off.

“Oops.” She giggled.

“What, you didn’t miss me, Baby?” He whispered, tone all sultry, it made her stomach curl viciously. He seriously would be the death of her. She should’ve known from the minute she met him it would be.

“Obviously. Now kiss me like you mean all that sap,” She ordered him, and there was no need to tell him twice. He kissed her again, tongue sliding into her mouth to swirl against hers. His lips moulded perfectly into hers as his hands slid up under her dress gliding over the soft skin of her bum. The tiniest underwear she owned covered her and he felt the lace under his palm, which pulled a groan from out of him as Y/n shifted herself against his hips unconsciously. She moaned softly at the feeling of his stiff cock digging into her knickers, one of her hands balling his shirt up in her hand.

He squeezed her ass tightly and pulled back for a breath to leave kisses along her jaw and neck. Nipping at the skin below her ear, he whispered to her softly. “Such a good girl, Y/n.”

She sighed at the feeling, eyes fluttering closed and mouth open slightly. She couldn’t help it, Harry was just so warm, so inviting, that she felt herself melting against his firm chest. She’d been so needy without him, and the pep talk she’d given herself before tonight had gone out the window as soon as she’d seen him.

They hadn’t been together in so long, and she’d gotten herself off this morning but it wasn’t the same without Harry there. She’d been wishing it was him the whole time.

“You’re mouth is criminal, Styles. Could get me to do anything.” She admitted softly finger running along his bottom lip. It was all pink and wet from her mouth, and she briefly remembered the feeling of him sucking on her clit, fighting the urge to stop her eyes from rolling back into her head at the memory.

He looked up quickly, meeting her eyes.

“Anything?” He asked mischievously.

She shrugged leaning down to plant a quick kiss against his swollen lips, “Probably.”

He laughed at that and trapped her into another kiss. They were growing more heated and passionate, her hips grazing against him ever so slightly, as gentle moans left her mouth. Harry swallowed each sound and let her use him for friction, the dull ache in his balls subsided a little less when she did it. He honestly thought he could cum his pants from it if she just went a little bit harder, for a little bit longer.

His hands gripped her a bit harder and pushed her more firmly against him, and the feel of her warmth against him grew stronger. He guessed that by now she was probably wet, and the thought made his cock twitch. Her pussy filled his daydreams, and his mouth salivated at the thought.

She whined into his mouth and whispered a swear against him. His large hand rubbed a circle on her bum, and he decided that this must be heaven. A pretty angel with Y/n’s form was here with him, and sitting right up against his stiffy. That was his idea of heaven.

His hands hidden under the dress, smooth skin under his palms, his hand could barely feel any fabric he knew just how tiny the sorry excuse of knickers she was wearing was, and this only riled him up more. She was so fucking hot. Sexiest little thing.

As she began to grow more needy for a release the feel of his rough jeans combined with the thin lace knickers she was wearing rubbing against her clit, she thought she could cum from this. The prickling heat had started to spark up her spine and she moaned at the bulge of his cock pressing into her. He began to kiss down her neck again and along her chest, and she felt her pleasure growing in her tummy.

Suddenly feeling close, she pushed his shoulders down so that he was lying on his back, and he smirked at the way she grew more needy for it. He loved seeing her use him to get herself off, he didn’t mind letting her be in charge every once in a while. She rested her cheek against his shoulder as she moved her hips in long but hard motions. All rough, and desperate, and Harry loved to see her so riled up. God, she was so perfect. They hadn’t properly seen each other since that night after her terrible date with Peter, and he was growing tired of fisting his cock in the shower. It didn’t compare to the real deal.

Not to mention he just missed talking to her and being with her, and even if the only thing to happen tonight was for her to get off on his leg while he kissed her pretty little mouth, he’d be completely happy with that.

With Y/n he would do just about anything because, well, it was with her.

Eventually, she whispered a soft, “I’m close,” in his ear.

Harry shifted his hips to move with hers “Cum for me angel,” He whispered into her ear. And just as she was about to cum the door swung up and her movements halted. Harry was about to shout a quick ‘fuck off’ because it was probably a drunk person looking for the loo, but the voice that met their ears wasn’t a stranger.

Oh shit.

“Y/n? Is that a- is that a Harry under you?” Asked the drunken voice of Niall. His voice was slightly slurring, and the gasp he’d let out made them know for sure who it was.

He could see the familiar tattooed arms wrapped around her which made him immediately know it was Harry and underneath the fluffy material of her dress he saw a flash of pink knickers and that mermaid tattoo Niall actually went with him when he got done, caught his attention, as he let out a loud yelp.

Honestly, he’d never date either of them. But the bisexual side of him was slightly aroused. They were hot, and together? God. Just delicious.

Y/n winced and shut her eyes, sitting up, “Uh…no??”

Harry laughed at her attempt to lie and she hit his chest. “Shh! Shut up, Styles!”

Niall shut the door walking inside further, uncaring of the position they were in, and the fact he could see Harry’s stiffy pressing up into Y/n’s thigh.

“What the fuck?” He said, and they could hear the betrayal in his tone. Normally Harry told him everyone he slept with and always stayed in the loop, even if it was a simple statement like he hooked up with blah at blah he always told him. And Y/n told him everything too, mostly, or at least he thought she did.

Y/n sat up sliding off Harry who sat up, stiff cock still standing tall, and his balls aching. Sitting beside him, Y/n hung her head, like a child ready for scolding.

“We wanted to tell you, mate,” He started, lifting his hands up to run through his hair and chucking the plastic red horns onto the bed, as he shifted on the bed.

Niall placed a hand to his chest mouth parted open like a fish. His long sheet turned toga covering very little of his muscled chest as he squeezed the flesh there.

“I’m like so betrayed bitches, why didn’t you tell me? Did this just happen? Is this new? What on earth is going on?”

Y/n laughed at his bombard of questions, he obviously wasn’t too cross with them which relieved the tightness in her chest.

She didn’t look at Harry when she spoke, instead playing with her fingers in her lap and fidgeting, “We haven’t told anyone…it’s well, I’m not sure exactly what is, Ni.”

Harry looked up at her statement and rolled his eyes. “I am, I fancy the fuck out of you, Trouble. We just haven’t told anyone because Emma would lose it. Remember when I got with Y/n’s old roommate that redhead I forget her name, and Emma shunned her from the group?”

Niall nodded, mulling things over. “Right, yeah. She wasn’t happy about that. Which is sad, I liked that girl, great tits.”

Y/n rolled her eyes and wanted to laugh, clearly, they didn’t like her that much if they couldn’t remember her name.

Y/n stood up. “Ni, I know you’re in shock and offended we didn’t tell you. Which is so fair, but Em doesn’t know yet, and she will kill me. Seriously murder me, especially if she finds out from someone who isn’t me. So you can’t tell a soul.”

He looked down at her and nodded. “Of course, I won’t tell anyone, just Benny.”

Benny was his cat, a fat ginger tabby, who was an old thing that Y/n found hiding behind his car one afternoon. Turns out he was abandoned, back then he’d been a thin little thing, but now Niall fed him up probably too much.

Y/n hugged him, and Niall’s hands slid down to her waist. “Thank you, mate,”

He just nodded, and let out a breath.

“Okay, I’m gonna grab some spliff from in here,” He rustled around, “then you can get back to it. Just don’t spunk all over my bed kids, and if you need a cum rag still one from next door, Jimbo keeps stealing my spliff so,” He said walking over to his shelf and grabbing a tin box full of weed, and his monkey bong from beside his telly.

He shut the door with a hushed bye, and then Y/n finally looked at Harry to see he was already staring up at her from his seat on the edge of the bed. Still standing up, anxiety fluttering her tummy.

“So you fancy me, huh?” She said teasingly with a smile, her lipstick was smudged and he could taste her peach-flavoured lipgloss on his lips still, he licked them in thought.

They hadn’t really discussed much about their relationship. But she was fairly certain he liked her. And she could tell he got jealous, that was obvious. But the sudden change from being the brooding older brother of her best friend, who constantly treated her like a ghost, and teased her about her behaviour to this. This intense, honest, and obsessed boy. It was like whiplash.

All those years? What had changed him in these few weeks?

She would probably always fancy him even if nothing ever comes from this, a piece of her will always belong to him, does he know that? She always felt like she was more transparent than he was.

But right now, just his eyes were a giveaway of his feelings.

The normally stoic, and cold, gaze was suddenly soft and molten. Even though only a few minutes before they’d been seconds away from getting off and kissing, now it was a soft cosy little bubble.

She was suddenly overwhelmed with a memory. When she was a kid and she’d go to her grandparent’s house she’d find herself sitting in their attic, which they’d turned a library nook which had a big window seat that caused the carpet to get all sun-soaked around noon and she’d flick through dozens of photo albums of her grandparents. The couple had grown up together as neighbours, and been in love since they were five years old.

Her grandparents were still so in love to this day, and her grandma always said you can tell by someone’s eyes if their feelings are true. Y/n’s grandfather’s eyes never turned hard around his wife, and Y/n always took notice. The strong, tall, soldier, was an absoloute sap for her.

Y/n had always hoped one day, she would find a love timeless and comfortable like theirs. Which is probably why she’d never gotten into many casual things, and was against that, she just always hoped one day Harry’s eyes would be like that but now that it was happening she almost couldn’t believe it.

Can people lie with their eyes like they can with their mouth? Can Harry?

He nodded. “Isn’t that very obvious, gorgeous?”

She sat down next to him, and she could feel the steamy moment blossoming into something more intimate and soft. She shrugged and looked down at the hands on his lap, and said nervously, “I don’t know,”

He pouted and slid his hand onto her knee. “We can’t have that,”

She looked up at him, her confidence melting away. She felt fourteen all over again, watching Harry pine over other girls and crying when she got home that he didn’t fancy her. Trying to dress more maturely and act like the girls he’d fancied the next day only to go unnoticed. Praying the red bikini she bought that was pretty skimpy for fifteen would catch his gaze when they had a pool party, only for him to makeout with some girl in front of her.

She could admit her crush on him was embarrassing to look back on, but when she got older a few years down the track she’d grown to accept it wasn’t supposed to be and decided she wouldn’t try to change to be perfect for him. Because in reality that isn’t what Harry went for anyway.

She couldn’t help but feel fourteen and insecure again. Why did he all of a sudden feel into her?

“Well, y’cant blame me. You hook up with a lot of girls H, and that’s okay, but you know I’m not very experienced. I just- I like you. I always have. But what makes what we are doing different from Jenny, the redheaded roommate from first year.” She said, and his eyes pinched with a prickle of sadness.

He had no idea Y/n still felt this way, after the past few weeks he was certain she’d always secretly known how much he liked her. He thought his affection for her was so bloody obvious but clearly she’d never picked up on that.

He sighed, “I used to get with a lot of people, Trouble. Used to, I don’t want too anymore. Not after the night we shared.” He started, licking his lips and leaning closer. “And you are different from everyone I’ve ever slept with because I actually want more than that…I love having sex with you, Princess, but I also love talking to you, I love being with you, and you are the most lovely person I have ever met.”

Y/n felt the air disappear from her lungs. “You’re special, and I wish I would’ve done something about it sooner instead of wasting our time.”

She smiled, one that hurt her cheeks. She felt them grow rosy as he continued talking.

“And fuck, you drive me crazy. But I miss you the minute you leave, and you are the only person I have ever wanted. Even when were kids. I don’t know how you never noticed, Y/n, but it’s probably because I’m such a tit sometimes. I never made things easy on you, and I’m sorry.”

The validation and shock were overwhelming to Y/n.

Her heart practically stopped.

He’d liked her too?

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.

Her heart skipped a few beats in her chest, and she felt herself trying to process his confession.

He’d liked her too? All this time he’d liked her too? What the fuck.

“I may have always been a total dick, but I’ve always fancied you. Ever since I could remember. If Emma wasn’t an issue I would already have told everyone that I fancy the fuck out of you, including you.” He said, lifting a finger to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, “I would’ve tried to get with you years ago, but the idea of not having you at all was what stopped me.”

He paused, swallowing as he watched her stay silent, and listen. “If I could change the way we started this I would’ve done it properly. Asked you out somewhere nice, worn my best, all of it. But I didn’t expect for us to happen.”

He sighed, “And I didn’t want to have to make you choose between me or her, like I know Em will probably make you, and I’ve been selfish letting myself have you these past few months. But fuck, I just have no control when it comes to you,”

Y/n blinked slowly. Because holy fuck. He liked her back, he always had, and he would’ve been with her sooner if not for the obstacle of her best friend. She couldn’t believe it. She really was sure she must be dreaming and had to stop herself from pinching her skin.

Her lips curved in a smirk, and she put her hand on his hand that was resting on her knee and said. “So, what exactly does that make us, Styles?”

He smiled and for what felt like the first Y/n thought Harry looked nervous. He lifted his free hand to scratch the back of his neck, cheeks dusted in a rosy hue as he tried to get the words out.

“If you’ll have me, I’m yours.”

She giggled and he felt nervous while he waited for her response.

“Mine?” She asked, liking the way it rolled off her tongue, her long lashes fluttering as she looked up at him.

He nodded once again, and she leaned close nose brushing his, and kissed him. As a soft ‘okay’ slipped past her lips he wrapped his arms around her back and smiled pulling apart from her lips for just a moment.

Excitement rushed through him, as his heart raced. She was looking right back at him, and he felt blissfully happy.

“Okay?!” He asked, unable to hide his relief and surprise.

She laughed tossing her head back, “Yes, Styles.”

He pulled her into a tight hug and she couldn’t stop smiling against his chest, he smelled so good. When he pulled her back at arm’s length once more he looked at her, eyes scanning the plane of her beautiful face. The dim lighting didn’t offer much but he already had every detail of her face memorised.

“Y’do know this makes you my girlfriend, right?” He said, once again checking she knew what she’d just agreed to.

She nodded laughing, and sliding her hands up under his shirt by his hips. “Yes, I’m aware, boyfriend.”

This made him kiss her again and her hands moved to his back as he rolled them over, his chest pressing into her as she melted into the plush bed. He kissed her desperately, leaving them both no chance to breathe. As her legs split open for him to rest on top of her, she felt something hard press into her. Not his prick, no it was in his pocket, how come she hadn’t noticed before when she was sitting on him?

She touched it with her hand, and Harry took notice, pulling back gently as his ragged breath fanned her flushed face.

“Sorry, Trouble.” He whispered breathily, as he dug around in his pocket, sitting up on his knees as Y/n leaned back on her arms watching him.

In his hand was a little black box, it was velvet and she wondered what on earth he had in there. She frowned, eyebrows pinching confusedly, as she watched him hesitate to open it or explain.

Rather than speaking, he opened the box finding inside a sparkling gold necklace. It glittered under the fairy lights Niall had on his headboard. She squinted sitting up straighter, slightly dizzy from it all.

A soft giggle erupted from her lips, and she felt her smile grow wider. Her dainty hand reached out to graze it.

This boy really was full of surprises. “I just- I thought we’d talk tonight so….”

A little golden H on a chain glittered the box, and she felt eagerness bubble in her tummy. Flowing through her veins, as she smirked at him, and bit her lip, “I thought you were joking when you said all those things.”

That night after he’d picked her up from that horrible blind date, and they’d shared a long night together. She thought his jealousy, and possessiveness was laced into his sexual fantasies. Not real jealousy. Because since when was Harry one to care about anything when it came to girls, other than getting his cock wet?

He only smiled, a wicked look coming across his features, God, he really was so bloody devilishly handsome.

“I don’t joke about what belongs to me, Y/n,” His voice drawled softly, and her stomach curled. The way he was looking at her was enough to rile her up all over again.

She moved one of her hands to slide up along his arm, her pink long nails scratching the inked skin softly as she lifted his wrist to her chest and pressed a kiss on his knuckles softly. His breath hitched at the sight of her.

She was so adorable.

Y/n gradually brought his palm to her neck, and his fingers gently slid around her throat and she bit her lip.

“Take this off,” She sighed.

He knew she was referring to her initial around her neck, and his cock twitched. Fuck, for an innocent little angel, she knew his game.

His fingers found the clasp and took the necklace off. It was dainty in his hands and what she did next surprised him. Grabbing the necklace from his palm she sat up a bit more on the bed and slid it around his neck, the chain was still warm from her neck, but he shivered as she touched him anyway.

She clasped it on, and it dangled alongside the cross his mother had given him. It was so dainty, you’d hardly notice it. She liked the idea of her initial constantly hanging there beside the cross. He never took the cross off, not even in the shower. Her finger lined them up perfectly, the cross was slightly longer and she made sure they weren’t tangled.

He leaned down now, almost face to face.

“Now everyone gets t’know what’s mine too, don’t they, Harry?” She whispered and licked her lips at the way the chains dangled down near her forehead.

He smirked down at her, dimples popping. “Yes, Angel, they do.”

She grabbed the necklace from the box and handed it to him. “Put mine on, Styles.”

He obeyed and put the necklace on, the cool chain made goosebumps pimple her skin. It dipped just above the swell of her tits, and he smiled at the sight. His perfect little angel, marked under his name.

“Gorgeous little thing.” He whispered and put the box on the bedside table.

Y/n grabbed his shoulders bringing him back down, he captured her lips against his and they kissed. It was all tongues, teeth, and a mess of noses bumping each other. A feverish kiss, full of a searing heat that had been waiting to burst for a few weeks now.

Y/n’s soft legs wrapped around him, the heels of her shoes digging into his bum as she pressed her heat closer to his once again stiff prick, as he moved his mouth down along her jaw and neck. Slowly spreading his kisses to her chest, and once he got to the H necklace he smirked to himself. He had to be dreaming.

His hands found the zipper of her dress and began to tug the fluffy sleeves down, which revealed her bare chest. Her nipples hardened as his hands grazed them, rough and calloused fingers teasing her nipples, and he moaned, at the feel of her, before latching his lips around one of them.

His filthy, fast, searing hot tongue glided along her. He looked up to see her reaction and the breathless, blushed face made him jut his hips into the bed. God, he wanted her.

“Naughty lil’ thing,” He whispered, looking up at her as he began to leave marks along her chest. Her hands fell to his hair and tugged on the mess of curls, playing with the hair distractedly.

“Tiny knickers, no bra, all for who, Baby?” He tsked her, looking up to see her expressions but her eyes had shut, and she was sighing softly. She looked off in her own world.

“You,” She keened, eyes opening only to find that green already staring right back at her.

He smiled at that and planted another kiss on her lips before moving down the bed, shifting so that he was kneeling on the floor as he tugged up the fluffy skirt hem, and put his face between her thighs. Kissing, sucking, and nipping on her soft skin. She moaned at the feeling of him, and the drink she’d had made her loose-lipped and slightly louder than she normally would be in a bedroom at a party hiding from her best mate.

She knew they shouldn’t be doing this, but they were together now, she could hardly leave this conversation without celebrating.

His nose brushed against her knickers, and her hips jolted up in his face. He smirked against her and his big, strong, ring-covered hands pushed her hips flat on the bed as he looked up at her. “That’s right, Trouble, all f’me. Only f’me. Sucha’ good girl.”

One of his hands moved to her knickers and pushed the thin string aside, revealing her gorgeous dripping pussy. His mouth practically watered at the sight, ever since the night he had a chance to taste her it was something that had overtaken his fantasies when he fisted his cock, he loved being between her legs and it was all he could think about most nights before bed.

When he began kissing her clit, she knew it was going to be hard to pull him away. His tongue darted out along into her hole, and he started licking into her desperately, as her legs fell over his shoulders and she let out a soft cry.

“Mm, fuck, Daddy,” She moaned, and her hands fell into his hair as she began to tug on it in gratitude. Her long nails scratched his scalp, and he moaned against her clit causing her legs to squeeze against his head in pleasure.

One of his hands moved up to her thigh and he pushed it backward, giving him a better view of her. With his other hand, he moved his fingers up to her lips and tapped against her bottom lip. She knew he wanted her to suck on them, and did so happily. They muffled her moans as he continued hungrily licking up all the slick dripping out of her needy little pussy.

He could feel her tongue swirling around his fingers and his cock jealously throbbed in his pants. He was happy with how dripping in her saliva his fingers had become and he brought his hand back down to join his tongue. With his middle finger, he slowly started teasing her weeping hole, and she let out a harsh cry.

“Please,” She begged desperately and tugged on his hair.

He pulled back, lips covered in slick all plump and pink. “I know, Princess, I know,”

And just like that his fingers slipped inside her, filling her up so that she felt nice and snug with him. His lips moved to her clit and he began sucking firmly, this caused her spine to spark with the familiar feeling of her orgasm rising. Her tummy was rolling in waves of pleasure, and her clit was throbbing against his warm wet tongue.

“Daddy, fuck,” She cried, and each breath she let out was a whimper. All desperate, as she clawed his arms and hair, so ready for him to be inside her. So ready to cum. So close.

She felt so fucking good. His mouth was like heaven and she felt the high she’d been chasing for weeks close enough that she could almost taste it. The way he was lapping her pussy up like a hungry feral animal. His fingers were long and thick, but nothing compared to his gorgeous prick. They were curling inside her and she could feel him hitting that spongy spot that made her toes curl.

He noticed her thighs begin to shake and the especially loud gasp she let out when he hit that spot. Continuing his merciless and hard pace he was certain she’d be coming undone soon. His tongue sped up, growing more sloppy and hungry for her orgasm to melt onto his tongue. His free hand squeezed the soft flesh of her thigh, as it shook uncontrollably underneath.

The animalistic needy way he was licking into her was almost like a beast and its prey. He’d lost all sense of his surroundings, where he was, and what was happening outside of this room, all his focus was on Y/n. Her sweet, tangy, taste, the sounds of her whimpers which went straight to his throbbing cock, and the feel of her skin under his hands, the slick coating his tongue.

Her.

When Y/n came for him, it wasn’t gentle and quiet like they’d planned. No, her hands clawed at the soft cotton bedsheets as her back arched up uncontrollably. A loud long cry of Harry’s name fell from her swollen lips, as her pussy throbbed and waves of pleasure washed over her. Her body shuddered and his tongue hadn’t stopped until he’d licked up all the slick off her, and she pushed his head back with a shiver.

“Sensitive,” She whispered.

He smiled at her. “You’re so fucking beautiful,”

She blushed, and pulled him up closer to her, trapping him in a long loving kiss. She could taste herself on his lips but didn’t have it in herself to care. His hands caressed the curve of her body as she rolled on top of him.

His firm cock was digging into her hip as she kissed him, in no particular hurry at all, and her hand found its way to his jean button. Popping it open and sliding her small, warm, hand into his briefs. She could feel how hard he was and pulled him out. He sprung up against his tummy, and Y/n began to stroke him softly and slowly. The reddened tip of his cock was drooling in beads of precum.

Her lips still smearing against his, as his tummy curled in desire. The sleeves of her dress had fallen down, and she looked all messy from having cum just a few seconds before. She was so beautiful.

As she moved down the bed. Her legs bracketed his and she rested her cheek on his hip bone, lips pouty as she looked up at him. Her hand was still holding the base of him, as smiled. A shadow of him cast over her innocent looking face.

“You have sucha’ pretty cock, Daddy,” She whispered, eyes mesmerised by the sight. And she wasn’t lying, he really did have such a pretty cock. The prettiest.

“All yours, Princess,” He said softly, and despite the fact his hard massive prick was out, the way he spoke was so tender and gentle.

“Can I suck you off?”

He nodded. “Course y’can, Angel, go ahead.”

She rested between his legs with her bum arched up as she leaned down to swallow him in her mouth. Her saliva dripped down along his shaft, as he watched her take him in her mouth. He hardly fit, so she used her hands too, and each time she dared to go deeper her throat gagged around him. Coughing and spluttering, as she attempted to suck him off.

She tried for a few more minutes, unable to get the fast deep pace she wanted. Harry wanted to laugh at her attempts, she was so adorable trying to fit his huge cock inside her little mouth. He didn’t mind watching her pathetic attempts to deep-throat him.

She pulled off for a second, a string of drool connecting them, “Can y’help me make it fit, Daddy?”

He nodded, hand coming to stroke her cheek, “Just tap my thigh if it’s too much, Baby,”

She nodded before moving back down to wrap her lips around a third of him, she could feel his tip hitting her throat already. Her slick spit had dripped all the way down to his balls and her free hand moved to gently massage them.

He moaned. “Fuck, good girl,”

His hips slowly moved up into her mouth, and she choked on him without pulling away, his pace began to become more regular as she let him fuck her mouth.

“Daddy’s good girl, aren’t you?”

She made a noise his cock, and he just pushed himself deeper, hands moving to hold her hair in a loose ponytail in his fist, “What was that, sweet girl?”

He teased, as she tried to mumble a yes, despite the fact her mouth was stuffed full of him. He laughed sadistically, tossing his head back as he let out a deep rumble of a groan.

His hips speed up desperately as he feels orgasm feels closer. “So fuckin’ good, Y/n, fuck,”

Her hands massaging his balls, and the base of his cock that couldn’t fit, along with her warm, wet, hot, little throat made Harry certain he’d only last a few more minutes. His rhythm grew more sloppy, as he watched Y/n take him. Her eyes were crying with tears from his rough pace, and she was squeezing her thighs together at the noises he was making.

His cock disappearing into her, was enough to have him hissing and whimpering. “Oh, fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me cum, such a good girl f’me.”

He pushed her head down a few more times, listening to the way her mouth made sloppy noises around him, and he let out a deep guttural moan as he felt his cum start to leak out into her throat. His throat rumbled gravelly moans as his hips lifted up into her throat. Holding her head there to take all of his cum, before finally pulling her off.

She let in some deep ragged breaths, mascara running down her face, and his cum dribbling from her chin. There had been so much of it, that she was almost jealous he hadn’t spilled it inside her. She shut her eyes and let her lungs finally have some air again. She’d gotten dizzy around him.

Her tongue darted out to collect the cum that had split, as she drooped to rest her head against his thigh again. His hands moved to her back and rubbed some soft scratches along her shoulder blades.

“You okay, Trouble?”

She nodded looking up with her glassy eyes, and glossy-coated lips, “Did I do alright, Styles?”

His brows pinched and he shook his head at her question, grabbing her so they were face to face, “You are the most beautiful girl in the world, and your mouth, was made for my cock,”

She sat up and pulled him in for a kiss. A soft one, slow, and comfortable. As he rubbed her exposed skin. She was so warm, silky, and supple under his palms. He wished to stay like this always.

He eventually turned her so that she was on her side, one of his legs between her two plump thighs, and they continued to kiss. His kisses travelled to her shoulder and neck as she played with his hair.

She whispered softly in his hair, which smelt like his shampoo, a chestnut-scented one. “I want you, Harry, please,”

And if Harry thought he’d been really needy before, he was sorely mistaken, because seeing his messy-looking girlfriend begging for him to fuck her, had him only thinking of him stuffing her full until she cums for him, over and over and over. His cock had already hardened once more and he rolled on top of her.

“Okay, my love,” He said softly, as he kissed her forehead, lips meeting again in a kiss.

Her soft hands moved up under his shirt squeezing his hips, soon tugging on the hem until Harry realised she wanted it off. They parted their lips breathlessly as he pulled the shirt up over him, muscles flexing as he threw it somewhere they didn’t care to look. She smirked against the curve of his shoulder as he moved back on top of her, and her hands stroked the rippling muscles of his skin, finding a home on his back.

They were too desperate to get all their clothes off, but Harry had tugged down the top of her dress, fluffy sleeves hanging on her arms lopsidedly, revealing her beautiful chest which had marks already blooming from his previous bites, and he’d bunched her dress up around her hips. The plumes of the skirt of her dress hid her wet little pussy from them both, but he could feel her. He slipped his hand down between her thighs and shoved the thin string that was her knickers to the side so he could slip his prick inside of her with ease.

He looked up at her. She was biting her lip, eyes shut, a look of complete desire on her face. Waiting for him.

“You okay, Trouble? Ready f’me?” He asked her, the tip of him teasing her. Pressing into her swollen clit as her hips squirmed at the attention of him. She was about ready to cry over how much she wanted it.

“Yes, please, Daddy, want you.” She said in a desperate tone, she almost looked in pain over it. He leaned down to kiss her temple before he slowly guided himself inside her. Inch by inch she felt herself split open for him, a familiar sting washing over her like always because of his absolutely ridiculously large prick.

When he reached the hilt of her and had stuffed her as full as he could he leaned back down, arms hugging her close to him, chests pressing together as his head fell into the crook of her shoulder. Her arms had moved to his back, long nails already digging into his skin.

“Fuck,” He whispered. As she moaned at the feeling of him. A soft cry, that had his balls aching for release.

She was breathless from the feeling of being full of him.

When she eventually told him he could move he began to, at a hard but slow pace. Each thrust hit her so hard she let out the loudest noise she ever had. Her pouty lips formed an O shape as she clung to him tightly, trying to stay still despite how sensitive she felt. He was groaning against her shoulder and neck, and the tightness of her pussy had him shaking. She was so warm, and tight, and god. So perfect.

Her mouth was by his arm and she kissed the soft skin, as he began to speed up. The pair of them both getting more and more desperate for their release. She could tell because his thrusts were growing more sloppy, and less calculated. Her hand slid between where they joined, and she began to rub firm lazy circles on her swollen bud. It wasn’t long before she unravelled on his cock, he could feel the way she squeezed him, and soaked his prick, as she cried out his name.

“M’cumming, H, please,” She didn’t know what exactly it was she was begging for. But he seemed too.

He kissed her lips, a gentle peck, “I know, Baby, let me take care of you,” He whimpered, he was trying to help her through it without cumming himself.

Her nails scratched into his back, harshly, as he hissed in pain and pleasure. She nodded, letting him help her through the intense feeling of her orgasm. His cock was so deep, she felt like she wanted to cry.

“Thas’ it, m’love, such a pretty little angel, f’me,” He praised as she squirted on his cock.

When the peak of her orgasm subsided, she noticed Harry’s thrusts grow uneven and she helped him by rolling her hips to meet his.

She looked so spent, and her eyes opened to watch him as he came undone, lip caught between her teeth.

Those eyes are what did it for him. He came, hard, and fast. Hot cum shooting up inside her, as he flopped down with a guttural, deep, moan of her name. Whispering sweet nothings as he let himself fill her up with his release. Balls twitching, while his hot breath raggedly hit her neck.

“S’fuckin’ good,” He said, kissing her lips. “My perfect girl,”

She kissed back tiredly. Just as they were about to kiss even more deeply the shrill sound of Y/n’s phone ringing erupted in the room. Fleetwood Mac was her ringtone and Y/n pulled back to see who it was.

Incoming call from Em💛🌻 lit up Y/n’s screen and a photo of Emma from primary school was the picture. She looked so cute and ridiculous in it.

Y/n now noticed about five messages from her. And Harry noticed her stiffen, pulling out of her to sit up and, she winced at the feeling. Suddenly empty of him, and wishing he’d stayed a little longer.

Harry tried not to notice the way his cum leaked out of her, but it made his cock twitch, he walked around Niall’s room until he found some tissues. Coming over and gently wiping her up, while Y/n replied to Emma’s text.

Her pussy was sore, and swollen, from pleasure. As he cleaned her up, she flinched.

He leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Sorry, Trouble, I’ll try n’ be gentle.”

Once he’d gotten her all cleaned up they sat up and fixed her outfit. Pulling the straps back up over her shoulders, and her fluffy tule down, the sticky knickers covered in their cum made their way off her. His rough hands remained soft on her hips as he slid them off.

“What are you doing, Styles?” She asked eyes wide, and doe-eyed. Suddenly all innocent again, like she hadn’t just squirted all over his cock in someone else’s bed.

“Can’t have you all sticky can I? Don’t worry I’ll hold onto them.” He said sliding them into his front pocket. The pale pink lace bunched up in a tiny ball, not sticking out. All tucked away, their filthy little secret.

She blushed a rosy hue and was about to protest but he kissed her and grabbed her hand to sit her up, pulling her by her wrists to stand up with him. Tugging the hem of her dress down so she was covered, as hunted around the room for his own clothes. Quickly tidying himself up and finding the devil horns that Y/n had thrown out of his hair at some point, before stealing one last kiss from her.

It was deep and slow, tongues melting together, as he moaned softly against her, his hands hugging her body nice and close to his. He felt weird having sex and going back downstairs so quickly, he was so used to cuddling with Y/n now, but he was sure she felt okay and he tried to assure her.

“Go find Em, I’ll find you in a bit, okay? Don’t go anywhere, Trouble,” He said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears and placing one final kiss on her forehead before letting her go.

Her face hurt from smiling so much, and she turned to leave, but just as she was about to open the door she turned back around and ran over to him to quickly place a kiss on his cheek. He smiled at her, god, she was cute.

And watched as she disappeared back outside into the real world, sighing to himself. He took a moment to sit down on the bed, taking in deep breaths as he beat himself up silently. He was partly celebrating in his head because holy shit, Y/n was his girl now, officially, she’d signed her name on the dotted line with the devil, handing over her precious angel soul. His initial hung around her neck, a silent show.

But he did wish he could’ve told her he loved her. Because god, did he love that girl, his chest physically hurt to be apart from her, it ached. He never felt that way about anyone before. Y/n is home, Y/n is happiness, Y/n is his childhood, and Y/n is his first and only love.

He should tell her. He silently decided to work up the courage soon, when the moment felt right. When neither of them had been drinking.

As Y/n walked down the stairs in search of her decidedly drunken best friend she sighed quietly, hoping the sex she’d just had didn’t wear on her face, praying her cheeks weren’t flushed in a show of how besotten she was for Harry.

Y/n’s legs were stiff, and her pussy was still coming down from the high Harry had given her before. She was sore, his cock was still too big for her, and as she walked she tried not to let on how much he’d ruined her.

Finally spotting her best friend with tears standing by the kitchen she rushed over. Emma began to bombard her with questions but Y/n just shrugged saying she bumped into some people from her Pysch class.

Emma was far too inebriated to notice the stutter and lie and pulled her to the kitchen to do a few shots. By the time they’d done their third Niall pulled them over into an intense game of beer-pong which surprise surprise they both sucked at, resulting in them drinking a lot of stale-tasting beer. After their harsh loss, they floated over to the dancefloor, which was just the living room. Niall was playing some good music tonight, as per usual, and Y/n felt happy as the two girls melted together in a huge mess of limbs and dancing.

She swayed her hips, ass pressed against Emma who had wrapped her arms around Y/n’s neck and shoulders. They were both very drunk now, the shots they’d done catching up to them, and the intense game of beer-pong Niall had roped them into had Y/n stumbling.

The house music that was playing made her feel even more off her face as she let her eyes flutter shut. Emma’s hands crept over to his hips and Y/n began to grind against her. They always danced pretty sexually together, and Y/n felt safe in her arms, she’d rather shake her ass against her best friend than some random frat guy.

And if she had to settle for the other Styles she didn’t mind, but she would rather be dancing against Harry. Who she’d lost, she didn’t know where he had gone now. But she let those thoughts drift away as Emma spun her around and they melted into a hug.

Singing to the song as it came to an end, Y/n lifted her head to look at Emma’s pretty face.

“I love you,” She slurred, obviously drunk. She also thinks Zayn and her had maybe spliffed up a bit. Because Emma’s eyes were red and she looked more out of it than normal.

Y/n smiled. “Love you too, Em.”

“I’m gonna go find Zayn, will you be okay?” She asked.

Y/n nodded, “Yeah, go find him. I’ll go see if Niall is anywhere.”

Emma leaned over planting a peck on her lips, which wasn’t unusual for her, and left. Y/n sighed and instead of finding Niall, she found her body continuing to move along to the rhythm of the song. Her eyes shut once more as she raised her hands and danced her heart out.

She sang along to the song and pretended she was off in a magical land on her own. Time felt like it had slowed. As the song drew to the beat drop she felt a pair of hands slide on her hips and she spun around, uncomfortable at the thought of some strange man grabbing her.

But it wasn’t a strange man, no, it was Niall. She laughed. “Nialler!”

Her hands fell to his shoulders and she began to dance with him. Niall was a notorious flirt across campus, he was bisexual and that meant no one was safe from his constant flirting. And even though Niall had a boyfriend, and wow, now technically she did too they danced like two single people ready to leave together.

His hands melted to her hips and she leaned her chest into his. They jumped and swayed and they were both drunk and on a different planet almost. When she felt another pair of hands melt onto her waist and a warm back press into her she turned to look over her shoulder, it was Harry.

She leaned into his back her bum pressing against his crotch as she felt his hands firmly stay on her hip bones while Niall’s stayed around her waist. Sandwiched between the two very attractive men had her wanting to laugh.

She giggled, and they both did too. Her head fell back to rest against Harry’s shoulder as they continued vibing along with the song. After a few songs, which flew by in the blink of an eye Paddy wandered over and whisked Niall away who left with an eyebrow raise and from the looks of it they were about to go blowie and make up.

As Y/n turned to face her boyfriend she sighed. Her boyfriend. She had one of those!

She leaned forward to plant a quick peck on his lips.

“Take me home, Styles?”

So he did.

love u thanks for ur patience more soon - L xxxx

339 notes · View notes

ssahotchnerr · 2 days

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OMG OKAY, AN IDEA INSPIRED BY AN OUTFIT (or two) I FOUND ON PINTEREST!! (I'd like them, but you can't on anon)

Okay, so, you've been dating Aaron for a little while, long enough that you guys live together and Jack would like, love you.

Jack would have a lot of friends at school, and all the mom's would be really close and friendly and would hang out for the sake of having their kids hang out, and they'd sort of be friends in a sense. So, one day, (I don't have the logistics figured out, so bare with me.) you'd have been talking to one of the moms about a way to kind of insert yourself into the school a little more and make more friends so that it's less awkward when he wants to hang out with his friends. And, the mom would suggest you host a garden party. So, you'd throw a garden party with all the mom's and their kids and Aaron would just be the most supportive person ever because he knows how stresses you are. Like you'd be planning this for weeks and you'd spend hours setting up. He'd go to the grocery store with you and help you pick out good foods. And he'd help you pick out decorations and hang them all up. And he'd make sure everything was as perfect as you'd want it to be. And ofc he'd be there during the party and talking to the mom's about how sweet you are and about you in general.

Anyway, sorry about the word vomit that thought has just been rotting in my brain. 🫶

STOP <3333333 fem!reader

when you first bring up the party to him, you're a bit nervous. you're afraid he'll think it's dumb or unnecessary (which you know isn't plausible because he would never) - he's fully on board, soo supportive and immediately off the bat says, "let me know what i can do to help🥹" and gives you suchhh a sweet kiss 🥹🥰🥰🥰

all the prep <333 you're scouring pinterest for ideas constantly - food, decor most importantly, outfit planning, fun activities for the kids. hehe you do this in bed at night, with aaron resting his head on your shoulder. he's watching you scroll, adding input, answering your questions: "is this cute?" "what do you think about this???" and eventually he has to pry your phone out of your hand, place it on his nightstand, so you go to sleep 😭🫶🏻

and week of the party, he's the most helpful assistant <333 as the two of you are grocery shopping, he's in charge of the list, reading off to you what you need as you grab it off the shelves. aaron also helps put together little party favors, helps you make name tags for the tables, and simply does anything you ask of him. he knows how important it is to you that it goes smoothly 🥺 hehe i also like to think at this point, you, aaron and jack have moved out of his apartment to a house with a backyard - where the party will be taking place - so he's on landscaping duty. making sure the grass is mowed and neat, no leaves or sticks are laying around, and even jack helps!!! hehe you planted some pretty, colorful flowers for the occasion as it is garden themed, and jack helped with that 🥹 aaron also wakes up early with you the day of, to begin the prep and setting up. omg imagine him putting together the balloon arrangement you picked out 🥹<333 he would get SO frustrated LMAO but in the end it turns out perfectly 🥰🥰🥰

and since you're so stressed out about it going well, about the other moms liking you and making friends, if the weather is going to cooperate (you were in tears a few days before the party, the forecast predicted rain😭) and aaron clearly knows how stressed you are, he makes sure you take breaks, provides reassurances and helps you get your mind off it frequently <3 hehe he uses the excuse that he needs attention 🥺🤨🫵🏻 and how can you say no to him 🥰

and during the party, aaron's making sure you're enjoying yourself - this is your party. so he takes care of everything - if something is needed, he grabs it or resolves it himself, makes sure the plates of food are always replenished, cleans up. you went through allllll the trouble of putting this together, so you're going to be a part of it and not solely on hostess duty <333

aaron's even outfit-coordinated with you 🤭 his button-up of the day matches the color of your sundress <333 jack's shirt too!!!

AND AHHH HE LOVESSSS gushing about you to the other moms 🥰 he has the most sickly sweet smile on his face the whole time. about how sweet you are, how attentive and loving you are to jack, how lucky he is, how you complete their family perfectly <333 he of course compliments you on the party you put together too 🥹 "isn't it amazing? she did the most amazing job." 😭💞💓

and throughout, he keeps going to your side, pulling you close at the waist, kissing your temple 🥹🥹🥹🥹😭😭😭😭😭😭 and simply keeps an arm around you as often as possible <333 either listening or adding to the conversation you're partaking in <3

after everyone's left and the two of you are cleaning up - jack fell asleep on the couch, all the excitement wore him out 😭 - 🥹 aaron's keeps saying how proud of yourself you should be; the party turned out better than he could've ever imagined, the moms all loved you, he's proud of you, etc <3333 hehe he even throws in the teasing comment that now they're all going to be asking you when the next party is 🥹🥰

#🍭anon #AHHHHHHHHHH #THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds drabble

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queer-n-here · 1 day

Note

I just read the akutagawa fic someone requested so I wanted to request smth similar if that's cool!

Sigma comes home with an attitude after getting all stressed at work so we cockwarm him

Take ur time btw ik you're prolly stressed w school and stuff 🙏

Gah, brother! Ittookmeashittonofwhiletogetthispieceoutimsosorryireallyreallyreallytriedveryhard-

*clears throat* I... *Sigh* I'm sorry it took me so much time to get this out. But I'm really proud of myself for finally finishing this, ngl. Hope you like it, and thank you for being patient.

Contents: Making Sigma cockwarm reader.

Warnings: Smut, Top male reader, cockwarming. Think that's about it.

Sigma was more than just irritated.

He was tired and annoyed; there was a dull ache in his head and his body was too heavy for his legs.

So when you pressed your signature soft kiss to his temple, and asked him if he remembered the date you'd planned for him, he snapped a little too ferociously.

"[Name], I can't go today, okay?" He said, his brows furrowed. "There's too much on my mind and I don't have time for stuff like that anymore."

A part of you was hurt by that. 'I don't have time,' You'd always thought he enjoyed your dates.

But you pushed it to the back of your brain.

About an hour later, Sigma was more than regretting the way he'd talked back.

You were fully clothed; just your pants were unzipped so your cock could be buried in him as it was, nestled between his walls all warm and snug, but achingly stationary. You were pretending as if everything were perfectly normal, scrolling through your phone and blatantly ignoring Sigma, who was sitting in your lap straddling you, naked.

He was starting to grow desperate; he wanted you to fuck him the way you always did, aiming at his sweet spot with the accuracy of a professional archer. He needed it. But you weren't listening to him at all.

"[Name]," Sigma said, voice slightly unsteady as his hands clutched at the fabric of your shirt. "[Name], please..."

"Hmm?" You raised an eyebrow, not quite looking up from your phone.

"Don't do this, please..." He looked up at you with those teary eyes of his. "I need you."

You glanced at him, the sight of his gaze making you almost give in. You sighed, putting the phone down and looking at him fully. "Need me? I thought you had too much on your mind and not enough time."

Sigma looked slightly hurt, but then he buried his face into the crook of your neck, wrapping his arms around your neck. "I'm sorry."

A sob shook his shoulders, and you felt tears drip onto yours. You sighed again, and put an arm around him.

"I can't take it anymore," He mumbled.

"Fine," You said. How were you supposed to remain firm when your love was crying? "But you're gonna have to do it yourself."

Sigma pulled away to look at you, cheeks red. "What do you...?"

You put your phone away, and turned to look at him again. "I'm not really feeling like doing anything, to be honest. And since you want it so much, you can do it for yourself."

With these words you sat back against the couch, looking up at him as he contemplated your suggestion. Sigma had never ridden you before; it was usually just you doing nasty stuff to him that made his eyes water and brain fog up.

But times were desperate, and you did not look like you were gonna cave in soon, so he nodded.

"Okay," He murmured, eyes downcast.

"Perfect," You said.

And so he started moving, grinding down on your cock slowly as his fingers tightened around your shirt. He bit his lips trying to muffle the moans he knew would start to spill out soon. His whole was fluttering around your cock already, his own dick twitching with want.

It was almost painful for you to not move, to not flip the two of you around and pin Sigma against the couch beneath you and fuck him till he was screaming. Gods, and he didn't even know the effect he had on you.

"Come on," You caressed his waist softly, stomach taught and shoulders tense with your restraint. "You can go faster, can't you?"

Sigma nodded, and sped up slightly. He was still shy, unable to make eye contact with you and with a stiff blush across his face. His eyes were tearing up slightly, and no amount of biting his lips was keeping in the ah-ah-ahs that spilled from his mouth as he bounced on your cock.

You could feel your dick twitching with want and restraint inside him. Your breathing had grown laboured, and you couldn't help but lean forwards and kiss Sigma slightly harshly.

He moaned into it, hole clenching around your cock and eyelids fluttering shut as a tear rolled down his cheek. You bit and nibbled so hard at his lips that he had to pull away to stop you.

"Don't- nghh! Don't b-bite so hard," He panted.

"Hmm," You grabbed his love handles, mediating his pace. "Don't you like it?"

Sigma flushed, burying his face into the crook of your shoulder as you made him bounce wilder on your cock. When you hit his prostrate, he whimpered, clutching your shoulders so hard his short nails dug into your skin.

So you hit it again and again, your hips snapping up to thrust your tip against his sweet spot, making him start to whine from the feeling. His own hips were bouncing to meet your thrusts half-way, and the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin that echoed through the room was making you restless.

You decided, fuck the punishment, you needed Sigma.

Flipping yourselves around so that Sigma was laying on the couch and you were on top of him, you pressed his pretty legs to his chest and fucked him, bullying his sweet spot and abusing his hole as he cried out underneath you.

Your pace was destructive and brutal, sending Sigma scrambling to find purchase as his chest heaved with each breath. You could tell from his blurred-up eyes that his brain was starting to cloud, his hands clutching your shoulders so tight his nails had managed to draw blood from your skin.

Soon, his thighs started trembling violently, his hole clenching around you in the way that it did when he was close. You smirked, teeth-half gritted against your arousal, and sped up.

Sigma cried out, cum shooting from his dick as a sound of pleasure ripped itself free from his throat, his hole so tight around you it was almost impossible to pull out and thrust in.

You weren't far behind, what with him so tight around your dick it was making you see stars. The white hot coil in your intestines snapped, and you painted Sigma's walls white.

Slowing down to a stop, you huffed to catch your breath, eyes landing on him.

He was out of breath and dazed, quite obviously in subspace. You pulled out of him, earning a small whimper from him, and placed a small kiss on his forehead.

It didn't take long to get a bath ready for Sigma, and you soon carried him to it from the couch. As you set him down in the water, he reached out to hold onto you.

"[Name]..." He murmured, perhaps already out of subspace.

"Hm?" You stroked his hair gently.

"Something's bothering you, right?" He looked up at you, voice quiet. "You looked weird earlier."

You sat down on the floor next to him outside the bath. "Earlier when?"

"When I said..." Sigma bit his lip. "When I said that mean stuff."

You smiled softly, even as the memory made you want to wince. "Hmm, yeah. It did hurt a little, honestly."

Sigma lowered his head, pouting slightly. "I'm sorry. I was just upset because of-"

"Because of something that happened at work, right?" You finished for him, nodding. "I know, that's why I didn't say anything."

He bit his lip. "I'm sorry."

You smiled at him again, leaning forwards to kiss his temple. "It's alright. But next time..." You paused. "If you don't want to go out somewhere with me, just say so."

"No!" Sigma sat up straight, looking at you with his wide eyes. "I like going to places with you. I didn't really mean it, I swear."

You looked at him, and this time the smile that tugged at your lips was automatic. "Really?"

"Yeah," He nodded furiously. "I really like spending time with you."

You chuckled softly. "Mn, good to hear."

#dom male reader #top male reader #dom reader #bungou stray dogs #sub bsd #sub bsd x you #bsd x you #sub bungou stray dog x you #sub bungou stray dogs #sub character #sub character x you #sub sigma x you #sub sigma

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sentientcave · 11 hours

Text

Retirement Party

Price has retired from Military life, and he's not handling the change well. But on the one year anniversary of him hanging it up, his boys bring him something special to help keep him busy. You.

Chapter Two - An Understanding

< Prev Chapter -

Contains: No Y/N, Kidnapping, Forcible relocation, Generally creepy behaviour, Alcohol mention, Smoking mention (Tobacco), I guess this might count as human trafficking?, Dubcon everything because Reader is terrified (non-sexual), plus-sized reader, fem/afab reader, There is something fucking wrong with these guys for real, More reader details given, but we're still pretty vague about it. Even though it is hard for me. No promises for future chapters though.

~3.8k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above

The captain looks at you for a long moment, dark blue eyes wide with surprise as he takes you in. You have to admit that he’s handsome, dark brown hair and well-groomed facial hair (muttonchops, no less) flecked with silver, and a nice nose that skews to the large side. It gives him a friendly, approachable demeanour, despite the weight of his stare. His heavy attention shifts from you to the other three, and his expression turns serious. “Lads,” he says, his voice a rumble that you can feel through your own body. “Please tell me this isn’t what it looks like.”

“Weeeel. It might be,” Johnny says apprehensively. “But I did my research, sir. She’ll be perfect for ye, ye’ll see.”

“She’s a good girl,” Ghost adds. “Sweet as can be. Won’t be any trouble for you.”

“Already moved her in and everything.” Gaz gestures around the room, looking rather too proud of their work.

The captain nods slowly, taking in the new additions to the space. “So you did. And did this pretty little thing agree to having her life upended, or did you lads just decide for her?” His arms shift around you, and you feel almost protected, oddly enough, even though by the size of him, he’s just as dangerous as the others. Probably even more dangerous, the way they defer to him, standing in a line like cadets, eager for his approval.

“Not… Not exactly,” Gaz admits. “I mean, we didn’t ask. But this’ll be better for her. She was living in a real rat hole before. Tiny little apartment in a shite neighbourhood. Was only a matter of time before something bad happened. We’re just looking out for her.”

Johnny shuffles his feet. “Dealt with a few neds while I was doin’ reconnaissance, even. Poor lass coulda been in real trouble if I hadna been there. Bawbag employers would ask her to stay past the last bus to watch the bairns an’ no’ even offer her a ride or ta pay fer a cab.”

“It wasn’t that far a walk,” you protest, glaring at Johnny. As if it’s any of his business. “And they did offer to drive me, I just wasn’t— It doesn’t matter! You had no right—”

The captain shushes you, and your words wither on your tongue, your cheeks turning hot under his stern blue gaze. He cups your jaw and turns your head to face him again, the rough pad of his thumb stroking your cheek gently. “Sweetheart, you and I will talk in a moment. Soap’s right about that not bein’ safe, and you know it.”

Your stomach flutters nervously. He gives you a little smile, and his crow’s feet deepen, the lines fanning out further. There’s a moment where you’re tempted to smile back, but his legs shift under you, and you wince sympathetically instead. “Sorry, I should get off of you,” you say quickly. “I’m heavy.”

“I won’t stop you if you’d like to sit somewhere else,” he says, that cheeky smile deepening more. "But you’re not heavy, and I'd like it if you stayed put."

"Told ye he'd like her," Johnny whispers, loud enough that it shatters the isolated pocket of reality that, for a moment, housed only you and the captain. "Hasna even introduced himself an' he's flirtin' like mad."

"Soap!" Gaz hisses back. "Shut up."

Ghost scruffs them both. "Let's finish getting dinner on. Give 'em a minute to talk."

Johnny grins at you and gives you two thumbs up as he circles around to the kitchen, as if you’d actually been a willing participant in all of this.

"I'm John, by the way," the captain says, calling your attention back to him. He drops his hand and settles it on your knee, his fingers curling around the joint. "You alright, doll?"

A loaded question. "Well. Not really."

"You're keepin' it together real nicely, all considered. Wouldn't blame you if you were hissin' and scratching."

"I'm not much of a fighter," you admit. "And even if I was, I don't think it would do me much good."

John chuckles, squeezing your knee lightly. He's gentle, but there's power in those hands, the kind that comes from years of hard work. There's scars all over it, from his the tips of his calloused fingers up to the leather band of his watch, etched in evidence of violence. If there are scars further up his arms, their hidden by the buffalo plaid flannel. "No, it probably wouldn't."

"Are you going to let me go home?" you ask.

He sighs. "The thing is, doll, the boys have put me in an awkward spot here. If I let you go on home, you're going to get them in trouble, and I don't want to see that happen."

"I promise, I won't say anything, I just--"

He shushes you again, and you shut your mouth, biting your lip. "Let me finish, sweetheart. You're being so good right now because you're scared. But that's not gonna last, is it? And worse, it sounds like you don't really have much to go back to."

"I'll find a new job. I always do."

"With another family who doesn't appreciate the work you put in? That doesn't make you feel safe?" His fingertips toy with the edge of your skirt absently, but his eyes are on your face, studying your reaction with rapt attention. This is how a rabbit must feel, pinned under the stare of a grizzly bear, frozen in place and hoping that no claws come down on top of it. "I can read between the lines, doll. That man you were workin' for made you feel so uncomfortable that you'd rather walk through a bad neighbourhood at night than get into a car with him alone."

You can't dispute it, although you're surprised he can glean so much information from half an outburst. "It wasn't like that-- He wasn't that bad."

John hums. "You're tellin' me you've had worse?"

A dozen jobs with a dozen managers or coworkers that took your silence as permission to stand too close, or put their hands on you flash across your mind. Mr. Kinsey was just the latest of many. You know that the thought is displayed on your face, from the way his eyebrows pinch together just slightly, not angrily, but concerned. You try to deflect with a little laugh. "Oh, well. I suppose I have. But hasn't everyone?"

"Soap had a bad lieutenant once and locked the man in his own car when he was just a private. Just because you have a bad boss doesn't mean you have to take it." He looks at you so seriously as he speaks, his fingers dancing distracting circles against the top of your knee, rough fingertips catching on the nylons just slightly. The heat from the arm curled around your waist bleeds through the fabric of your dress, his hand twitching slightly, like all he wants to do is take a handful of soft flesh. “You should speak up when you’re not comfortable, doll. You just need some practice standin’ up for yourself, don’t you?”

If a statement could have teeth, this one would, and you’re not sure if agreeing or disagreeing will have him closing his jaws around you. He’s probably right, you do need to do a better job of standing up for yourself. But you’re certain that he doesn’t want you to start by standing up to him, or his three attack dogs either. “I’ll work on it,” you say meekly. You test his commitment to the statement by gently picking his hand off of your knee, although there’s nowhere to really put it either.

“We’ll work on it,” he agrees, lacing your fingers together. When he rests your now-entwined hands, it’s a little further up your thigh. “You want a drink, darlin’?”

“Oh, um, no thank you.” You wouldn’t mind another tea, but you don’t think that’s what you’re being offered.

The scrutiny he puts you under is intense, like he’s determined to figure out what every microscopic shift in your expression might mean. “You sure, doll? You gotta ask if you want somethin’, or you won’t get it.”

“I would like a tea. But I can make it, I don’t want to be trouble.”

“Nonsense. Lads?” he tips his head back slightly.

“On it, sir,” Gaz replies cheerfully.

Ghost leans over the back of the couch to hand John a tumbler. Whiskey or scotch, by the sharp smell that hits you. John pulls his hand away from yours to accept the glass. “Thank you, Simon,” he says pleasantly. "Good lad."

“S’your party, sir. An’ you’re busy, ain’t you?” Ghost rests his hands on the back of the couch and studies the pair of you, dark eyes gleaming with pride. The man has the demeanour of a cat that’s brought in a helpless little bunny to his master, while it’s still alive and struggling.

“Gettin’ to know our pretty guest.” John smiles at you over the rim of his glass as he takes a sip. “She’s a sweet girl.”

“Isn’t she just?”

“Could I, um, sit over there?” you ask, glancing at the chair. Somehow John had managed to distract you from the idea of moving for a while, but you were still eager to get a little space from him, especially with Ghost looming over both of you.

“Of course, sweetheart,” John’s arm loosens, and you quickly get up and move to the chair.

You almost feel cold, without the heat that radiates off of his body. His attention feels weightier now too, or maybe it’s just that his body isn’t shielding the stares from Johnny, Gaz and Ghost, and you’re subjected to all four of them watching you, like you’re either fascinating or delicious (or both). You cross your arms over your chest and shrink into yourself as much as possible, eyes wide.

"Here's yer tea, hen. And may I just say, ye've go' a fantastic rack from this angle." Johnny hands you the mug and sits on the arm of the chair, leaning over you. "Weel. Ye've go' a nice rack from any angle. Nice arse too. Captain's lucky I like him so much, or I'd've gone for you myself."

You breathe in steam, wrinkling your nose slightly. It doesn't smell quite right. "Did you put something in this?"

"Aye. Finger of whiskey. Ye look all stiff and peaky still. Need a pick me up, don't ya?"

You look at him reproachfully. He sighs and plucks the tea from your hands and takes a big sip. "There's nothin' else in there, if that's what yer askin', ye suspicious wee daftie. A little whiskey ne'er hurt no one." He hands the mug back to you, smile crooked, doing his best to be charming, but he's too intense, too fervent, to be anything but unsettling.

“Got Johnny checkin’ everythin’ for poison, do you?” Ghost asks, chuckling. “Can’t say I blame you.” He nudges John with the back of his hand. “She’s smart, worth keepin’ an eye on that. Know’s ‘ow to ‘old ‘er tongue, but she’s listenin’ and payin’ attention.”

“Of course she is! Wouldna choose a lass withoot a brain in her head. Wouldna be worth the captain’s time. Weel, maybe worth a wee bit of time.” He winks down at you. “But no’ wife material, ye ken. Chose her because she’s delightful, no’ just ‘cause she’s bonnie.”

The few times you’d spoken to Johnny before you’d thought that he was so nice. Laughing and joking with you in the pick up line while you waited for the children you were respectively responsible, greeting his niece and nephew with big smiles. And Finn and Rory were always so excited to see him, you’d chalked him up as harmless. Clearly you hadn’t been paying enough attention then, too focused on the Kinsey kids and your job, maybe. You hadn’t noticed that he was appraising you like a piece of livestock, judging your value like you’d been put up to auction.

The whisky-fortified tea is a bit on the strong side, but you take a few sips anyway. Getting drunk would be unwise, but you’re so tense that your whole body is starting to ache, and that’s not doing you any good either.

“Dinner’s ready,” Gaz announces, untying his kiss the cook apron and setting it on the counter. “Hope you’re hungry. Soap made a cake earlier too.”

John raises an eyebrow. “You can bake?” he asks, surprised.

“Aye, picked it up while I was gettin’ rehabbed for the big fuck-off hole in my head,” he replies airily. “Was goin’ mental putterin’ around Kirsty’s waitin’ for the bairns to get out of school, so Ah picked it up. Isnae so hard. Just chemistry, aye?”

“He did make a big mess,” Gaz says. “Had to wash about fifty dishes before I could get started on dinner.”

“Everyone’s a fuckin’ critic,” Johnny complains. “See if I bake ye a cake for yer birthday, Garrick. Ye’ll be sorry then.”

“Oh no, how will I survive?” Gaz clutches his chest like he’s deeply wounded by the statement, laughing. “I have two mums, I’m still pretty much guaranteed a cake.”

“Always braggin’ abou’ that. Thinks he’s more evolved than the rest of us just because his da’s a woman.” He hovers next to you as you get up, and sticks close as you walk over to the table. You don’t choose a seat, in case there’s an order to things you’re not aware of.

“Pretty sure the whole point is that he dun’t ‘ave a dad,” Ghost says. “Now sit down, mutt. Yer not sittin’ next to the bird. You’re botherin’ ‘er.” He points at a chair, and Johnny sighs and slinks into it.

“Here, sweetheart,” John says, putting his big hand on your back to guide you the last few steps and directing you to a seat. He slides the chair in for you too, masquerading as a gentleman, and sits next to you.

Gaz settles in on your other side, all smiles. “Feeling better?”

They keep asking you how you are, as if the answer is going to change. Like all you need to adjust to the reality of being kidnapped and relocated to some stranger’s house in the country is a little time. Like you’re going to be just fine, if you just get a few more minutes to adjust. “Not really.”

"Ah, don't worry, doll. Captain's gonna be real good to you. You'll get there soon enough. Probably'll feel better once you've had a proper meal."

At least they don't try to make you talk much at the table. They fall into easy conversation between them, and let you eat roasted chicken and potatoes and carrots with some kind of sweet and mildly spicy glaze. Ghost pulls the mask down to eat, so you're able to watch when he goes slightly pink from what barely qualifies as spice. Gaz gives you a little side-long glance, and you almost laugh. There's some solidarity to be had, even in a situation like this one, something funny about how a little more spice could probably straight up kill the other three men at the table. Maybe that would be the key to you freedom: Murdering John by feeding him something full of chilies.

Admittedly, you do feel begrudgingly more charitable towards them after eating. You could maybe blame it on the tea too, which, against your better judgment, you do end up finishing.

John stops you from helping clean up when you stand automatically and try to stack Gaz's empty plate with your own. "No, sweetheart. C’mere." He guides you to the door and out into the chilly evening air. You wish that Ghost had let you put on a sweater over your summery dress, but he had been so keen to show you off, and you’d been too scared to insist. You curl your arms around yourself for warmth, and keep quiet, watching as John trims and lights a cigar, looking out into the darkness beyond the porch.

Fear has morphed from pressing terror to something that gnaws at you from the pit of your stomach. You could try to run for it, but you’d probably roll your ankle wearing the stupid red heels, and you have no real idea where you are, or how far you are from someone who could help you. Outrunning John would be a feat anyway. He’s older than you, but he’s in better shape, nearly perfect shape, broad and strong, that long military career not yet forgotten.

There’s a bench by the door, so you sit down to take the heels off. You’re not used to wearing them, it’s so rare that you have anywhere to go that calls for spicier footwear than your comfortable, worn in trainers.

“Here.” John slides his flannel shirt off and drapes it over your shoulders, and kneels down in front of you, cigar clamped in his mouth, pulling your heels off for you. Smoke curls around you for a moment, thin and blue in the scant light, before a breeze carries it away. He leans on his one leg and studies you, but he doesn’t stand. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

You put your arms through the sleeves of the flannel, humming noncommittally. You know you’re pretty enough, by most standards, but you feel like his interest— And the interest of the other three— is disproportionate, too intense.

“I’d like you to stay a while, doll,” he continues. “I won’t force you, I’m not that kind of man, but I’d have a hard time letting you go back to living paycheck to paycheck in a bad nieghbourhood, workin’ for creeps that don’t know how to keep their hands to themselves. You deserve better than that.” It’s as though he doesn’t even hear his own words though, or imagines himself better, because he absently runs his hands over your calf, squeezing the tense muscle gently.

“I have to work,” you protest, biting back a moan. You didn’t need to encourage him, even if you weren’t quite brave enough (or willing) to stop him. “I have student loans, and I send money to my lola in Vigan. I can’t afford to just disappear off the face of the earth.”

He nods thoughtfully. “How much?”

"Three hundred pounds a month to Lola. I know it might not seem like a lot, but it goes a lot further there."

"And the student loans?"

"Sixteen thousand. Not that much, I worked through my degree, and I inherited a bit of money from my parents. But I still have to--"

"I'll pay for both. You'll stay until you find a good job, and a safer apartment." He says it like it's a final edict, no room for argument.

You pull your leg out of his grip, tucking both further back under the bench. "No, John, I don't want to owe you either--"

"You won't. My boys kidnapped you and disrupted your whole life. I'd pay a lot more if it keeps you from going to the police over it. Least I can do is make sure you're better off when you do leave here, hm?"

You bite your lip. Starting over with a clean slate is tempting, but you're not sure you can trust John. He seems so earnest, blue eyes clear and guileless, but he can't be much better than the other three. Unless he was just holding their leashes tight as their captain, and had to let them loose when he retired.

"Can I think about it?" you ask.

"Of course." He puts his hand on your knee to steady himself as he leans across to ash the cigar in the ashtray that sits on a little table next to the bench. "But I think you'll say yes. You're a smart girl, hm?"

You're tempted to say no, just to test weather or not he's being honest about not forcing you to stay, but there's a niggling worry in the back of your mind that the veneer of civility will evaporate if you push him on it. He's nice enough now. And maybe that niceness isn't a show, maybe he has no darker side, maybe it's all just paranoia on your part. Perhaps the worst thing about him is his predilection to protect his "boys", even though all three are clearly insane.

Military is like that, isn’t it? The whole brotherhood thing? Maybe fighting for your life beside someone changes how you see them forever.

“How long did you all serve together?” you ask. “Johnny mentioned that he was SAS before— I asked about the scar once.” You tap the side of your head, the same spot where Johnny has a nasty bullet scar.

“Long time. Hand-picked Gaz and Soap for my taskforce about ten years back. Simon and I served together longer. He’s a captain now, even if the lads still call him LT. They’re both lieutenants, and Gaz’ll be a captain himself before long. Probably would’ve been already if he’d transferred out of the 141.” He gets up with a grunt and settles onto the bench beside you. “Don’t think Simon’s long for it. He’s only still in because he wants to keep an eye on Soap. Man’s a bloody romantic. Live together or die together.”

“I didn’t realize that they were together at all.”

“The way Soap’s been droolin’ all over you, I’m not surprised.” He puffs on his cigar thoughtfully. “But Simon’s just like that, as far as I can tell. The world’s divided into three categories. Enemies, his people, and everyone else. Enemies ‘n’ everyone else can’t touch what’s his, but he’s never given a damn about Soap sleepin’ with Gaz, or me.”

“I’m not his people.”

John looks at you and shakes his head. “Course you are, doll. You’re one of our people now. They might’ve gotten a bit overzealous, bringing you here the way they did, but those lads would do anything you asked of ‘em now.”

A bit overzealous. You laugh, but the sound comes out bitter.

"Relax, doll. I know you're determined to hate them, but they're good lads. Their hearts are in the right place." He pets a big hand over your head and rests it on the back of your neck, warmth seeping into your bones, relieving some of the ache from all the tension of the day. John has a way of soothing that terrified little animal in your chest that would otherwise threaten to kick it’s way free from your ribs and flee into the dark trees. “Lookin’ out for me, in their own way. Lookin’ out for you too. If your situation was a better one, they wouldn’t’ve plucked you out of it like that.”

There’s hope in his eyes when you look up at him, hope that you’ll forgive and forget, that you’ll come around to some kind of understanding in time. His thumb brushes a sensitive spot behind your ear, sending an awful, irrefutable thrill through you.

You’re worried that he might be right.

My favourite John Price to write is the sneakiest, most charming, manipulative bastard on the planet. I definitely take a lot of inspiration from 391780 's portrayal of him. The Rear Window and Neighborly have been forefront in my mind while working on this (Largely because I think my John would have taken a similar approach if the lads hadn't jumped the gun. The Rear Window is dark, so be warned! Early writes delicious dark fics, but that may not be everyone's cup of tea, so mind the tags.)

Image Credits: Banner

Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune

#Retirement Party #Chapter 2 baybeee #Doll is coming to terms with the weirdest situation she's ever been in #cod mw fanfiction #John Price x Reader #x reader #Some hints of Poly 141 (I think it'll crop up properly later on)#Gaz wearing his kiss the cook apron wondering why Doll's not kissing him ): (It's because you kidnapped her)#Johnny never change baby boy you're a dog and we love that about you

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billskeis · 1 day

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can you please write something for Tom where he's like sooo in love with the reader but also really in denial and a bit scared cause he's never been in love before/ felt like this? (I know this sounds mega kitschy)

i love your account so much, everything is so pretty on here!!

thank you my love, i hope i didnt disappoint c:

ᡣ𐭩 tom, a dummy in a denial

tom was your friend. your rock. you don’t remember how it happened, but as soon as the two of you met, sparks flew. not in the way that you think, god no! the two of you couldn’t ever imagine being anything other than friends. more than friends, right? well, so you think ..

as tom grabbed his car keys, he ushered bill to be at the doorstep in ten seconds or he would leave without him, “fuck! tom! i can’t find my rings..” with a scoff, tom rolled his eyes already beginning to open the front door, “just leave without them! we’re gonna be late.”

“what’s got you in a rush? it’s a goddamn house party..” bill skipped down the stairs fumbling to now put his shoes on. as tom ran his hand through his hair, he hesitates to respond, not really sure what DOES have him in a rush.

as bill waits for his older brother to respond, seeing as how he breaks out in a cold sweat he can’t help but realize now, letting out a small laugh, “oh..” “oh what?” “it’s cause you want to see y/n,” and tom can’t help but widen his eyes and so hard they might pop out of his eye sockets.

“what?? pshh, i don’t know what you’re talking about—i mean—me and y/n are friends, best friends!” bill pushes tom out the door as the two walk to tom’s new cadillac. “for someone who you consider a best friend, you’re so eager to see her.” tom sarcastically laughs at bill, “i am not!!” “yeah, lemme know when you’re done being in denial, tom, i’ve seen the way you look at her.”

upon arrival, both the kaulitz twins enter the house already booming with house music. loud voices and laughs were shared, dancing, engaging and talking, making out, drinking. but there you stood. standing there, solo cup in your hand, laughing with a couple of your girlfriends as you sip on the alcoholic drink.

you looked amazing, tom had to blink twice to truly comprehend it was you. what am i even saying—of course he knew it was you. you were no lesser than a diamond to his eyes. the way your dress hugged tightly around your curves, glossy lips and hair ever so shiny. you were his aphrodite.

“stop staring and let’s go talk to her!” bill exclaimed pulling tom by his arms, “what’re you doing?? stop!” “tom cut the bullshit right now before i slap you in the face—hey y/n! how are you??” he cuts himself midway as bill nagged at tom while pulling him to where you stood.

“bill! oh my god hi!! ‘m feeling good tonight, hi tom!” you wave at tom before pulling him into a hug, wrapping your arms around his body, not noticing at how he tensed up around your presence now. “hi y/n..” you tilted your head to the side, ‘hi y/n?’ what kind of a greeting was that?

you hold one of tom’s hands, running a thumb over the back of his hand. he swears his heart fell out of his ass as he choked on his spit but tried to conceal it, “you okay tom?” “yeah! perfectly fine! now where’s the alcohol??” he grabd a bottle immediately pouring himself a shot, downing it within the quick ten seconds of having poured it, fire trickling down his throat.

tom needs liquid courage. he’s never really realized that he’s felt a certain way for his best friend. she now makes him, nervous. like he needs to find the perfect words to say in order to put a smile on her face. as if he doesn’t already do that. but now, it’s different. he can’t fuck this up. he’s scared, alcohol will do the trick for sure!

“easy there tiger!” bill giggles as you look at his twin brother in confusion. bill can only shrug, as he walks off to go find georg and gustav who are already drunk off their minds dancing in the living room. you focus your attention back on tom who already seems like he’s had four more shots in the time that you only spent exchanging looks w bill.

with a gasp, you swiftly grab the bottle and shot glasses from tom and head towards the dance floor. you hold tom’s hands and give him a little spin. “seems like ya had fun with those shots eh?” “mmhm.. glad to see you y/n, been a while :),” and you perk up, smiling at tom who’s hip swayed in rhythm with yours.

wanting to spice things up a bit (with your bestfriend?) you hold tom’s waist, pressing it flush against yours. if it weren’t for the dim, flashing lights, you would see how red tom’s face is. and it’s not from the alcohol. he can’t help but open his mouth in shock, hiding his face in your neck.

“y/n..” “mmhm?” he whispers in your ears, tom now has his arms wrapped around your waist as you slowly danced with one another. arms engulfing his neck, you push it even further to your ear, almost sending tom into an orbit of emotion. but it seems as though the alcohol has caught up to him.

dizzy, he can only rock side to side now as the two of you stand. it’s now quiet between the two of you, with only music to fill in the silence. admittedly, tom speaks before he thinks as he mumbles a “god you are just so breathtaking tonight y/n..” well, that was a first, you immediately latch him off your body and hold his shoulders to get a good look at him.

his head is lolled down as it looks as if it’s being hung of his body. you can see a dopey smile plastered on his face as the rest of him is like putty within your hands, doing as it’s told while you simply hold him straight. oh, he’s fucking drunk, and he might puke. you remember the last time the two of you were out together he gets all giggly and loopy before needing to let it all out. the little details matter.

“oh no, we need to get some fresh air,” you hug his body against your side, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you make your way towards the balcony. shoving through the crowd of people, you are met with bill, gustav and georg who stop you in your tracks. “y/n! where are you going??” “to get your brother some fresh air!” jokingly, georg screams a ‘seems like you care about him!’ and you scream back ‘i do!’ without hesitance.

a coo is heard from your side as you look down to tom who’s body is slumped against yours. opening the slide door, he whines “aww, you care about me?” “shut up tom,” and he dramatically pouts before holding himself on the railing of the balcony, taking in the fresh, cold air to somewhat rid of his nausea.

you lean on the railway, looking at your best friend whose movements are extremely sluggish and slow. you pat his back, following by rubbing circles on it, feeling the cotton of his black t-shirt which, made him look really good. his hair was tied back in a low bun, as his sunglasses hung off the collar of his shirt. how could such a simple outfit make someone look so good?

after a few moments of silence being exchanged between one another. tom finally backs off the railing to bring back up all the shots he drank without eating prior to it, puking it all into a plant pot for, let’s say, plant purposes! you wince at the noises but can only hope that plant is a plant the house owner neglects and doesn’t see the puke.

spitting out the remnants, tom immediately feels better. but he can’t bring himself to face you, not after embarrassing himself in front of the girl he found out to have liked since the beginning of time. you notice this, and soften a gaze at his back, muscles defined through the thin fabric. with a tap of his shoulder, he hesitantly turns to be met with you holding out a water bottle.

thanking you, he immediately twists open the cap to drink the water, downing almost half the bottle. as he almost finishes it, he places the bottle onto the ladder attached to the railing, now holding onto it again, leaning his head on it as he stares at you. you were looking through the sliding door glass admiring bill, georg and gustav dancing. looks like they’re having an amazing time!

“oh god, i can’t believe how much i adore you..” you jerk your head to look at tom so fast you swore you gave yourself whiplash, “what!?” “oh fuck—sorry—i don’t know what came over me.. pretend you didn’t hear that.” you mouth hangs open in disbelief, pretend you didn’t hear that!? what is he talking about??

you step closer to him as he pretends to look away into the stars of the night sky, “tom!! look at me and tell me what you said..” your expectant, you wanted to hear those words again. you couldn’t believe it, the best friend whom you’ve liked for so many years might reciprocate your feelings. you hold onto that hope as much as possible. as his eyes dart in many directions but yours, you shift your head quickly enough to always meet his gaze.

“mmm fine..! i said i adore you..” “why thank you, i adore you too..” wanting to make a little joke out of it, seeming as though you adore him just as a best friend and nothing more, “no, no not like that y/n. god i can’t believe it took me this many years to realize how i truly felt about you,” and he licks his lips, becoming dry with anxiety. you cross your arms, “and what is it that you feel about me?”

“well, for starts, i love you. i love you so much y/n that i couldn’t see myself with anyone but you. why it took me so long? i—i don’t know i think i was scared?? felt as if my whole life i was incapable of loving or even being loved. my whole life i’ve been through materialistic relationships, temporary relationships, relationships with a motive.. was scared you were gonna end up as one of those so i, didn’t take the risk.. ‘m hearts never skipped a beat before until you. until you, i’ve never felt so content with life, i want to be your boyfriend but you obviously don’t have to say yes we just can remain friends—”

“tom!!” you interrupted midway through his rambling, he just stops in his tracks, “you didn’t even ask how i felt! you only assumed i wouldn’t return the feeling,” and he bites his lips, goddamnittomyoustupidfuckingidiotyoushouldveletherspeak. leaning even further into the railway, he awaits your answer. nervous, an uncomfortable pit forming in his stomach expecting the worse. “oh! i um.. ha, sorry..”

you inhale a deep breath, exhaling as you clench your palms together, “you dummy, i love you too. i guess i’ve always adored you, a lot. it’s also hard for me to convey my feelings, dunno what it is, but hey! glad we got that out huh??” you giggle, smiling at tom, who has a cheeky grin plastered on his face. in a world full of complicated girls, you were simple. easygoing. it was as simple as that. he couldn’t be any more happier over the fact that the one for him considered him as her one. you immediately pull tom into a hug, who then awkwardly asks you to be his girlfriend, and of course, you said yes.

“i’m so into you, y/n.”

“i know!”

i dont have the knack to write fluff anymore .. im soo sorry anon T_T

i was inspired off these pics , just imagine tom looking up at you with those with those eyes after finding out you liked him too , cute !

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel x y/n #tokio hotel x you #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel fluff #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x y/n #tom kaulitz x you #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz fluff #2000s #fyp #billskeis

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picklypickle · 15 hours

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- The only one -

a/n: hiii everyone!! this is my first little story, I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it, if you want to see more of my writing feel free to send me a request!! Enjoy! ;) words: 1.9k

warnings: tiny bit of swearing, I wrote this with a fem reader, kinda jealous Melissa

When you walk into the staff room in the morning, the first person you notice is your beautiful girlfriend, sitting at her usual table, sipping her coffee with her work wife, Barb, right next to her. At first, she doesn’t notice you, being way too preoccupied by whatever story Barbara is telling. But when she does turn to you, with a frown still on her face from the conversation that was happening prior, her gaze softens and she gives you a soft smile only you can recognize as an “I love you”.

“There she is!” you hear Jacob saying from across the room “Where were you? How come you didn’t get here at the same time as Melissa? Oh no, did you guys fight?” He nervously says as he quickly makes his way over to you.

“Nooo!! No no, I was just running a little bit late so I told Mel to leave without me, thank you for your concern tho!” you laugh.

Everyone at Abbott knew you and Melissa were together, infact, they were the ones who had gotten you two together in the first place, six months ago and they were the biggest fans too. If anything ever happened between you two, your colleagues would probably be more crushed than you and your own girlfriend.

You hear the teacher’s lounge door open and turn around to see who it might be. Suddenly, one of your very close friends and fellow teacher at Abbott, Lauryn, bursts into the room with her usual smile plastered on her face. When she sees you waving, she makes her way over to you.

“Hey girl!! Such a nice day today huh?” she says.

“It is! Oh my god I love your dress!!” you exclaim as you look up and down at her outfit. She is wearing the most beautiful flower patterned dress. You make a mental note to look online for a similar one when you get home tonight.

“Thank you so much!! You know, I bet it would make that perfect ass of yours stand out, you should get one.” She says and proceeds to lick her lips.

You blush out of embarrassment. Did she forget you are with someone? Even worse, that Melissa is literally sitting not even 2 meters from where this very awkward interaction just took place and heard it? You quickly try and look at Jacob, trying to see if he heard the same thing, but unfortunately, he has already left and is talking to Gregory. You quickly glance over at your girlfriend who you can tell very well, has her fists clenched so hard and is fuming right now.

“Uh, thanks!” you try to say as normally as possible, trying to hide the confusion in your face. “Um anyways, I really have to go, the kids are going to get here soon.” You quickly say and wave goodbye, smiling at her. You rush out of the room, wanting to get away from this whole situation as fast as possible. However, Melissa notices this weird behavior, as she is getting up to come check on you Barb sits her back down.

“Melissa, you heard what she said, the kids will be getting here soon, she probably just wants to prepare everything.” she says “And besides i'm not done with my story yet, so sit back down.” she adds, while tugging at her sleeve to bring her back down.

When you get to your classroom, you start writing everything you need down on the board, such as the date and the kids schedule that they can rely on during the day. While you’re writing with your favouite purple dry erase marker, your mind starts to wander off. You start to think about how everyone has been telling you for weeks now that Lauryn might be in love with you, but you’ve just been denying it and shrugging it off. But now, you’re starting to wonder if it’s actually true. It’s not like you’re into Lauryn or anything, you have the best girlfriend in the world! Infact, Lauryn’s flirty comments are starting to make you feel uncomfortable, you thought she knew that you were dating Melissa…maybe she forgot?

Before you know it, the bell rings and your little kiddos are running in and hugging you like they normally do every morning. You snap out of your thoughts and start your lesson, you’ll deal with the issue eventually, but for now, all that matters is your students.

★

After lunch was your free period while your students were in gym class. Today, you preferred to avoid everyone and stay in your classroom to do some grading on the most recent test.

Just as you put a sticker on the last copy, you hear a soft knock at the door, you turn arround expecting to see Melissa but you’re met with Lauryn’s grin, holding her cellphone.

“Hey! Am I bothering you?” She asks, peeking into your classroom to see if anyone else is there.

“Nope, I just finished grading these papers.” You reply, gesturing to the stack of documents on the corner of your desk.

“Ahhh alright well, I need to show you this video, it’s so us!” She says excitedly and comes to stand next to where you’re sitting down.

You start to watch the video but quickly realise it’s dedicated to couples… you stop paying attention and focus more on the reflection of the glass of the phone, when you see Lauryn, she’s not.. looking at the video? You try to see what she’s looking at and realize that she is staring directly at your cleavage, practically drooling too. You get red. You get uncomfortable. You start to pray for her to leave or someone to wal-

Someone knocks at the door, again.

“Am I interrupting something?” You look up, recognizing the voice.

Melissa is standing at the door, hands on her hips.

“Oh hey Melissa!” says Lauryn “You aren’t interrupting anything, I was just showing Y/N this video.” She goes to show Mel the clip.

Your girlfriend clearly also realizes the video is meant for couples and clears her throat, crossing her arms. This makes you look up at her. You can see that she’s jealous, she is part of the group of people that think Lauryn is in love with you and she is also not having it right now.

“Well, I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it!” Says Lauryn, she waves goodbye at the two of you and walks out of your classroom. Clearly she knows that you and Mel are together, so what is this all about?

You and your girlfriend stare at eachother for what feels like forever, until you decide to speak up first.

“Look I d-” You start.

“What the hell was that?” Your girlfriend cuts you off.

“Listen Melissa, I have no idea she just, ugh!” You say, being exhausted from this whole situation “Please don’t be mad, I don’t feel like fighting, I’ll talk to her later.” You finish.

“Hon,I'm not mad, heck if anything I'm jealous!” she says, uncrossing her arms and slowly walking towards you “She’s always making these comments and remarks about your body and undressing you with her eyes! I’m the only one who gets to do that here. And the worst part is, I can tell you hate it, it makes you extremely uncomfortable.” She continues, bending down infront of you and resting her hands on the armrests of your chair. You blush, she knows you perfectly.

“It does.” You say, getting more and more red. You quickly look down at her lips, unknowingly licking your own. The redhead in front of you notices.

“I know it does” she answers, bending her face down to yours, your mouths are inches away from each other “And no, i’ll be the one to do something about it.”

You smile before kissing her softly, she kisses you back with just as much softness. After a moment, the kiss starts to turn more and more hungry. She places her hand on the back of your neck, pulling you closer. You smile into the kiss. The school bell suddenly rings, signaling that you have to go get your kids from the gym.

You groan as you pull away from her mouth

“Fuck, I have to go get my kids at the gym! I’m so sorry Mel, I'll talk to you later!” You quickly peck her lips before exiting your class.

Melissa stays there for a moment, smiling to herself, thinking about how much she loves you.

★

It’s the end of the day, you students have alrea dy gone home and all that’s left to do is go down to the teacher’s lounge to collect your things that you had left there.

When you get there, you’re greeted by all your friends who are also gathering their things.

“Hey girl, did you have a good day? I didn’t see you around much?” Asks Janine, with a small frown, her face slightly coated in worry.

“Yes I had a good day, I just had a lot of grading to do and preferred to do it in my own space.” You reply reassuringly.

“Oh okay!” She smiles at you.

“Hey, uh, Y/N?” You recognize the voice, it’s Lauryn “Do you think maybe.. you’d wanna um, get drinks or something tonight?” She asks nervously.

“Uh, um” you have no idea what to say “I uh..”

Melissa, who was talking to Barb as per usual, notices you and Lauryn right away and decides that this is her time to shine, this is where this little Lauryn thing stops.

“Hey, Lauryn?” Melissa says while approaching you from behind “Have you ever noticed in the last six months that, I don’t know, me and Y/N are dating? Or did you just think we were joking?”

“Oh! Well..” The girl in front of you says

“Save it glasses, and save up that money for a new pair because this one isn’t working” Mel says “Now back the fuck off before I throw you down the stairs and the only drinks you’ll be getting are jello cups from the hospital” She finishes, before quickly turning around to grab her things and you by the arm and dragging you out the door.

“Oh, bye guys!!” She loudly says to everyone else in the room to make sure everyone heard.

“Bye Melissa!” Janine awkwardly says and makes her way towards Lauryn to check on her, not to comfort her, just to make sure no one ends up hating her in the future.

★

When you get to Melissa’s car, you can’t help but smile at her, and then well, laugh. You had no idea she was going to do this right then and there but she did. She joins the laughing fit after a few seconds.

“Oh how I love you!” You kiss her passionately before turning to your own car “I’ll see you at home sweetheart!” You yell at her before shutting your car door and starting your engine.

“I love you more hon, i’ll cook you your favorite pasta for dinner!” She yells back before shutting her car door as well.

With that, you both drive away to where was originally only Melissa’s house, but is now yours too, and you plan on it being for a very long time. Plus, you get to look for that new dress you want!

#melissa schemmenti #x reader #fanfic #oneshot #abbott elementary #melissa schemmenti x reader #i love her

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amongemeraldclouds · 7 hours

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spoiler alert

Life can be complicated when you possess a rare kind of magic: the ability to see your future with someone upon meeting them. A chance encounter with Mattheo Riddle reveals more than you bargained for.

(Choose your own ending)

Mattheo Riddle x f!Reader

Warning: Mostly angst, some fluff, no use of y/n

✿ Masterlist | 1k words

You cradled the warm cup of tea in your hands as you made your way up the Astronomy Tower, careful not to spill any drop. It was a clear evening, the cool breeze floated lazily through the sky and the stars twinkled brightly. It was the perfect spot to unwind from the pressures of the day.

As you approached the arched balcony, a small orange glow caught your attention. Someone else was here, smoking. He turned upon hearing your footsteps approach.

“Hey stranger,” he called out. You took in his features, curly hair and bright eyes with a lopsided smirk, he was adorable.

“I’m Mattheo, care to smoke with me?” He asked, offering a fresh one from his pack of cigarettes.

You felt it then, magic coursing through your veins from the encounter. Time slowed down as it always did, vague images flashed in your mind and the all knowing voice of your future self spoke to you:

I tried to find all the words to tell you about this boy and how much you’ll love him. Oh the adventures you’ll have together and all the ways it will break your heart. One day you’re sixteen and you’re falling in love for the first time. Everything feels new and exciting. The warm buzzing in your veins when Mattheo bumps into your shoulder and runs his hand through your hair to brush off a leaf that fell. As if, as if. You’ll know it’s just an excuse but you won’t mind it at all. You’ll spend countless evenings in the Astronomy Tower, you with your tea and him with his cigarettes. You’ll talk for hours even though you’ll never remember every word you exchange. It’s enough to get to know him and hear his voice, a melody you’ll want to keep as the soundtrack to your life. You’ll find yourself spinning at the Yule Ball in a lovely dress feeling like the most beautiful girl in the world. You’ll laugh with him, his hand placed perfectly on your waist, bodies flush as you danced in sync, as if you were made just for each other. His other hand in yours, firm and warm as if he’ll never let go. Of course you had grown up with magic, it belonged in the air like oxygen and it sang in your bones. So you’ll wonder how it’s possible that the world is even more magical when you’re around him? Fast forward to when your wedding dress is tucked away at the back of your closet and his vows are on a crumpled paper in a drawer somewhere.

He’ll be good at forgetting dates and breaking promises. Too busy with his plans and ambitions, none of them will seem to include you anymore.

You’ll be good at forgiveness and do overs. After all, his jagged words and actions will be served in bite sized pieces so you’ll think you can stomach it all. You won’t realize it until your friend tells you that you smile less and stopped talking about your goals. You’ll figure out too late that you hacked away who you were to fit into his life, a wild hedge now perfectly manicured in his front lawn. You’ll tell him what you need, afraid you’re asking for too much. That you are too much. He’ll reassure you he can do better and for a while he does. Spoiler alert: it never lasts long. But here now, you are sixteen and evergreen. The stars are bright and so are your eyes. Your heart burns with dreams unrealized and passions you have yet to discover. Don’t take it for granted. My love, life is short but if you stay where you’re unhappy, life becomes insufferably too long.

You blink as the quiet returned and time resumed its course. The cool wind caressing your face brought you back to the present. You took a deep breath, warding off the looming nausea in your head. You’ve never seen that far off in the future before, someone potentially so significant in your life.

A crossroad: Do you choose to stay or leave? Scroll down for your answer.

Stay

“Well hi Mattheo, it’s nice to meet you,” you say as you walked towards him and introduced yourself. You take him up on his offer and held the cigarette in between your lips. Mattheo lit it for you so you inhaled the smoke, the first of many, and watched the wind carry away your exhalations. The air hummed with possibilities, romance, and heartbreak. That’s the thing about your visions, there was no way to know for sure if it would play out exactly as you’ve seen it. Where does one draw the line between destiny and our influence on the outcome? If you considered yourself seriously, you could say you’re an adventurer aspiring to chart her own course. But if you were more honest, perhaps you were simply in denial. Either way, you made your choice. You turned to Mattheo and watched him expertly take a drag from his cigarette. You studied the flex of his jaw and the curve of his lips. How can one stranger grow into something more and take up so much space in your life? Soon, you’ll be in love and dancing at a ball. You’re about to have some of the best years of your life and some of your worst. But maybe it’s worth it.

Leave

“No thanks,” you replied to the boy with curly hair and eager eyes and waved goodbye. You walked away without glancing back. Mattheo simply shrugged and returned to his cigarette, lost in his own thoughts once again. You retreat down the stairs, each step distanced you from a future of bliss and grief. No boy had to be worth your dreams, you thought. It was better this way. As you swivel back to the corridor, your mind swam in the power of choice as future regrets faded from your periphery. You yelped when you stumbled onto someone’s hard chest and warm tea spilled down his shirt. “Shit, I’m sorry,” you exclaimed, far too exhausted with the evening’s surprises. “It’s okay, nothing a little magic can’t fix,” said the boy with perfectly wild hair and a kind smile, already casting a spell to return his shirt to its once pristine condition. You didn’t know him personally, but you recognized him as Lorenzo Berkshire.

“Now about your spilled tea, can I help you get another one?” he asked. You smiled back at him as magic thrummed in your veins and time started to slowed down.

✿ Masterlist

Author's note:

✿ Based on the question, “if you knew how things would turn out, would you still make the same choices?”

✿ Another moment I was in my feels and spilled ink instead of the alternative. May have spilled the alternative anyway.

✿ If you chose to leave, of course I had to sneak in my sweet and lovely Enzo in there ♡

#mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo x y/n #mattheoxreader #harry potter fanfiction #slytherin boys #hp fanfic #slytherin boys x reader #amongemeraldcloudswrites

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d3adlyromb3ar · 1 day

Text

✰ sinking lily pads

— synopsis. he thrived in the sorcerer world, she was forced into it. how could two people that strayed so differently from each other become so close?

— pairing. gojo x oc!fem!reader (main), toji fushiguro x oc!fem!reader

— word count. 4.1k

— contents. mentions of child abuse, neglect, abandonment, angsty asf, injuries, blood/gore, depressing thoughts, dissociation, ptsd, mentions of death, jjk violence/fighting

series masterlist | previous chapter

✰ chapter two. lives left

He would’ve preferred to leave Moon’s room in a better mood, but the reveal that she had died on her previous mission had his blood boiling.

All of a sudden he was seeing red, wishing to resurrect the creature that had killed her— just to kill them again. This time slowly, giving him time to make this evil being suffer.

I have this technique for a reason.

Her words echoed in his head, and logically he knew she was right. She wielded the 9 lives because she was strong enough. She was meant to. Although, it never brought him comfort. He rather her never having to use the 9 lives technique at all.

Despite all that had happened in the past with Moon and himself— he never stopped caring for her. He wished it could be like that, a switch that he could turn off. All too quickly, he knew that weren’t to be true. He’d always care about her, no matter how hard she tried pushing him away.

Besides, he always knew there was something deeper to her. Something that had her thinking as such. He didn’t need the Six Eyes to recognize the pain she hid underneath her facade.

He didn’t even know where he was walking, letting his feet guide him aimlessly through the school. His mind was empty of a destination, and instead forced him to remember that day. The one he remembered all too well.

(Flashback to a year)

The sun shining through the treetops mixed with the cool breeze, it couldn’t have felt more perfect outside. The distinct smell of the flowers blooming, the sweet aroma filling the air. It was addicting, almost easy to let yourself get lost in the moment.

Gojo had his glasses pushed up into his hair, the object being used as a makeshift headband. He leaned back on his arms, letting his face point towards the golden rays. It felt heavenly on his skin.

“God,” Moon’s voice whispered next to him, “Feels so perfect outside.”

The white haired sorcerer tilted his head in her direction, giving her a smirk when they met eyes.

“Of course it's perfect. I’m here after all.” He said.

She rolled her eyes, fighting down her smile as she finished off her sandwich. Using the back of her hand to wipe off the crumbs from the corner of her lips.

“You know, not everything is about you.” She told him, taking a sip from her juice.

Gojo held a hand to his chest, gasping dramatically with mock hurt.

“So mean!” He whined, “And here I thought we were having a nice time.”

She giggled at his antics, setting down her drink and leaning back on her arms– matching Gojos posture. He smiled to himself, the sound of her gentle giggles like music to his ears. Somehow he made it a mission to himself to always draw that sound from her. Whether it was because he just wanted to make her laugh, or maybe he just adored the sound so much. The way her eyes would crinkle– her smile contagious as he always found himself mirroring her.

“We are having a nice time, just making sure I keep you in check.” She told him, glancing over at his smug expression.

He tilted his head curiously.

“Keeping me in check huh?” He wondered with an amused tone.

She nodded her head as if what she was implying was so obvious.

“Yup. Gotta keep you humble.” She told him.

It was his turn to laugh, the hearty sound echoing in the distance as he fell all the way back– hands clutching his stomach. Moon couldn’t help herself from laughing at the sight.

“Nines you kill me! You know that?” He managed to get out.

“Ah see, already showing me how humble you really are. Admitting that I can kill you– because you’re so right.” She stated proudly.

This had his laughs dying down, the dominance shifting from his aura to somewhere in between the two of them. Although it wasn’t fear he felt, not even a threatening feeling– he felt challenged if anything. If he was anything, it was arrogant for knowing he truly was the strongest.

“Is that so?” He asked, sitting up and scooting closer to you.

She watched him scoot closer, not thinking twice about the action.

“Mhmm.” She hummed, running a hand through her hair.

“You think you can kill me?” He asked her, his eyes focused on hers.

She leaned closer this time, getting inches from his face as she held his gaze confidently– no faltering. Gojo held his breath, letting his eyes dart from one to the other– her hazel ones capturing him in a trance. Her eyes always were unique to him– the inside always looking like a blooming flower or some beautiful explosion. He could sit and stare all day– depicting where the green stopped and where the yellow started, morphing into a gorgeous dark blue.

“You know I could.” She whispered.

Maybe he should have felt threatened. Maybe he should have felt the frustration that someone challenged him of his all powerful role. But he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He admired her power, because he knew full well that she was. He respected her strength, the abilities she possessed. She was magnificent, and he was truly captivated by her. He didn’t know if it was the power that first pulled him towards her– excited to meet someone that could keep up with him. All he knew is that he wanted to be around her– know her. He didn’t want to live a life without her involved in it.

He’d never felt such a pull towards anyone in his life– therefore why he wanted to stick around.

He felt himself getting lost in the moment, his eyes glancing down to her lips– watching her tongue wet the pair. The pink, plump flesh trapped him in his stare. The only thought swirling through his mind was how badly he wanted a taste.

Moon saw the way his gaze traveled down to her mouth, the sudden realization of what he was thinking hitting her. She always had that weary thought in the back of her mind, but she never believed it would be true. If only she could have the true strength to submit herself to her own desires– but she didn’t. She already let herself slip up by letting a mere friendship bloom between her and the white haired sorcerer. But now in this moment, physically seeing the emotion speak within his eyes as they traveled back up to hers– she knew she had to stop.

She’d never let anyone get close to her… again.

She leaned back and turned her head back in front of her, facing away from Gojo completely. The sudden movement pulled him out of his trance, leaving him to attempt to mask the hurt he felt from the rejection. Even if it wasn’t spoken– he knew. Although he ignored his own feelings when he noticed the far away look she suddenly sported in her eyes.

“Moon?” He tried.

She took a deep breath, willing herself enough strength to walk away. Learn to stick true to her word and stay away from people. She knew it was unfair to him, but she couldn’t feel that pain again– the same pain that never left. After all these years, the wound still bled– and she never had the power to stop it.

“I gotta… I’m gonna go–” She rushed out, gathering her things.

“Hey, hey, what's the rush?” He asked, sitting up straighter.

Uncomfortable with the sudden shift in the mood.

“I just… I just remembered I have to meet with Yag–”

He furrowed his brows at her rushed movements, the way her hands slightly shook when trying to zip up her bag. He couldn’t help the worry bubble within him.

“Did I do something?” He voiced out loud, wondering if he was the cause for her sudden distress.

Her chest twinged with pain, her guilt doubling at the thought that he was already trying to blame himself. Her lips twitched with the urge to tell him otherwise– to scream out to him what she really felt. But she couldn’t, and would never.

She faced him, trying to keep her face neutral.

“Not at all, just forgot I had something to do.” She explained casually, and hoped he bought her lie. “Gotta go, see ya.”

Without another glance towards his beaten down expression, she hurried off to the steps of the school– making her way towards her room. She needed to be alone right now– she needed to think.

Although she had thought she lied well to him, she didn’t realize that while she looked at him– he could see the pain written in her expression.

He was left sitting under the tree by himself, letting himself get lost in his thoughts. All at the same time, feeling hurt and concerned.

(Present)

His feet carried him towards the school stairs, and he gladly took a seat– letting himself come back to reality after the memory.

It wouldn’t have been such a painful memory if things hadn’t changed drastically after that. She had isolated herself almost completely from him, everyone even. She didn’t talk as much as she did– although she was never that talkative to begin with. She kept her distance– staying calculated about the time of interactions. Gojo was the first to bring it to his friends' attention. Shoko and Geto barely saw it as an issue at first.

She’s just going through something. Maybe she needs her space. They both told him.

For a while, he supposed he believed them. Perhaps that was easier than thinking it was something he did. If he scared her off or if, she truly didn’t feel the same way he did. The rejection was harder to accept, so he stuck with believing you just needed time.

Now almost over a year has passed, and you still keep yourself far from everyone– from him.

“With how hard you’re thinking, you’re gonna end up hurting yourself.” A smooth voice called out from behind him.

Gojo already knew it was his dear friend Geto, making his way down the stairs.

“I ain’t thinking that hard.” Gojo mumbled into his palm that he rested his head on.

“I can practically hear it.” Geto joked, earning a chuckle from the white haired sorcerer.

His laughed died down, going back to staring aimlessly at the stairs that descended in front of him. The long haired sorcerer gazed with watchful eyes at his friend, curious as to what was bothering him so.

“Yaga’s been hinting at a big mission soon. I’m curious if that’s what got you so preoccupied.” Geto wondered.

Gojo had heard the same whispers of the same mission, but it definitely wasn’t what he was stuck in his head about.

“Nah. It’s Moon.” Gojo admitted, knowing when it came to Geto— he wouldn’t judge.

He was his best friend for a reason. Always able to calm him down when he felt slightly out of control.

Geto hummed and ran a hand through his hair, fixing some strands that fell out of place from the light breeze.

“Did something happen?” He asked his friend.

Gojo sighed, and glanced towards Geto with a disappointed expression— not directed at him of course.

“Did she tell you what happened on her mission?” He wondered.

Geto shook his head with a chuckle.

“Do you think she would? Doesn’t seem like her style to come to me and vent.” He pointed out, although he wished she would.

Geto cared for her, and knowing something was bothering her– it bothered him. He felt useless sitting on the sidelines, waiting for the day she’d finally express herself. When would that be?

Gojo scoffed, knowing he had a point– but disappointed nevertheless.

Geto saw the worry etched into his friends features, and grew serious all of a sudden.

“What happened?” He asked, despite not wanting to know the answer.

“She lost a life.” Gojo whispered, his eyes dropping back down to the stairs.

Geto felt his stomach knot up slightly, concern for Moon growing more intense by the second. He knew a great amount about the 9 Lives technique– knowing how traumatic and difficult that was to possess, to experience. Knowing she had gone through it, all alone. It made him feel sick.

Gojo lifted his gaze back up to his long haired friend, the silence making him wonder where his thoughts were. By the look on his face– he almost knew what he was thinking.

“Oh Miss Dair…” Geto trailed off, frustrated that you didn’t come to him– or anyone for that matter. This was serious and you were trying to isolate yourself. “Does Yaga know?”

Geto glanced to his friend, watching the white haired sorcerer shake his head. A part of Geto wanted to tell Yaga, not to get you in trouble– but to bring awareness to your odd behavior.

“He should know about this.” Geto stated, irritation lacing his tone.

“She wouldn’t want that, you know. She’d be furious with us if we told him.” Gojo told him.

Geto scoffed, shaking his head this time.

“She already acts indifferent with us– would it really matter?” Geto questioned, genuinely offended, how Moon treats them.

Gojo again couldn’t argue, knowing Geto had a point.

“I hope she’s okay.” Geto suddenly softens, his worry overcoming his frustration. “Losing a life is like losing a piece of your soul, I can’t imagine what she had to go through.”

Gojo perked up at that information, swallowing with difficulty through his tight throat. A thought suddenly popped into his head, and despite him truly not wanting to know the answer— he found himself asking.

“What happens when she only has one life left,” He whispered into the air, glancing over to Geto’s unfocused expression. “Will she be… herself?”

He watched closely, narrowing his eyes when he saw the long haired sorcerers eyebrows twitch. The silence was killing him, although it had only been a mere few seconds of it.

“I don’t want to lie to you, my friend. Though I am not positive what will be the outcome, I doubt she will be the Moon we know now.” He admitted solemnly.

Gojo tensed from his words, running a hand through his white locks. It was all theories— he knew that. But it didn’t calm him from his anxious thoughts. How much longer did he have to live his life being concerned to death for his friend. It was exhausting— yet completely out of his control.

“Don’t let my words alarm you Satoru,” Geto placed a hand on his shoulder in comfort, “This is Miss Dair we’re talking about. She’s a strong one.”

The white haired sorcerer nodded, but couldn’t find the relief that his words meant to bring.

“We all have an ending, and she won’t be meeting hers any sooner than she’s meant to.” Geto assured him.

Gojo wanted to ask how he could possibly know that— but couldn’t bring himself to.

Geto gave his friend’s shoulder a squeeze before standing up— brushing off his robes.

“You should get some rest. Our lives are about to get much busier.” Geto suggested.

Gojo knew he was right— again. The sorcerer life wasn’t one of relaxation. He knew all too soon there would be a mission to keep them occupied.

“Now— get some rest.” Geto called out as he walked away.

Leaving Gojo alone on the stairs, still stuck in his head. He needed to push all these worries away for now— there were bigger things at hand. He needed to focus.

Not too far from the school stairs, Moon stood in front of her bathroom mirror– staring intensely at her reflection. She couldn’t figure out what bothered her so much about what she saw– although there was indeed something. An evident change in her appearance–

No… I look the same… yeah. She argued with herself.

She gripped the edges of the sink, leaning closer to her reflection’s tip of her nose. It wasn’t until she focused harder on her eyes, when she finally recognized the unfamiliar haunted look in her gaze.

With a frustrated huff, she pushed off of the white porcelain– stumbling backwards from her reflection and into the door with a thump. Her chest started rising and falling faster– her breathing erratic as she felt herself losing control.

Her eyes squeezed shut as a violent image from her most recent fight came flashing. The destruction, the loud screech from the monster as it ruptured her ear drums. Last of all, the indescribable feeling of death. The anxiety when your senses start to dull. The last thing she faintly heard was the struggling pounding of her weak heart– attempting to keep her awake for a few more seconds. It was all too much.

The thought came and went like a fleeting shadow, but nonetheless it appeared.

Sometimes I wish I could’ve stayed dead.

Her hands gripped her hair, pulling and squeezing as she shook herself out of the images, the memories of what she had gone through. It would haunt her– it haunted her now as she struggled to keep sane.

Her chaotic state had her stumbling around the bathroom, her body leaning harshly against the shelf next to her shower– causing the furniture to tip over and smash against the tub. The sound rang and echoed throughout the porcelain walls, the noise causing Moon to flinch back– stumbling back into the bathroom door.

She was overwhelmed, feeling helpless as she couldn’t do anything but let herself succumb to the panic she was trying so desperately to fight off. She cried out as she held a shaking hand over her chest, the pain suddenly sticking out to her. Her lungs felt constricted, like someone was squeezing the air out.

The pounding intensified in her head, causing her to miss the knocking coming from her main door.

Geto stood patiently outside of her door. He just needed to see for his own eyes that she was okay before he let himself fall asleep. The talk from earlier– the reveal that she lost a life. He needed to check on his friend for himself.

After waiting another minute, he started to wonder if she had fallen asleep. Disappointed that he wouldn’t get to see her, he started to walk away– making it a goal first thing tomorrow to see her.

Before he could take his first step to leave, he heard the faintest cry coming from her room. He furrowed his brows in confusion and leaned his ear closer to the wood– listening again for something.

Perhaps he’d heard something that wasn’t actually the–

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard another cry, louder this time. Immediately he grew tense and knocked again– more urgent this time.

“Moon? It’s Geto, I heard something in there. Everything okay?” He called out, listening again when he didn’t hear her answer.

Although he could hear lots of noises, and what had sounded like whimpers– her whimpers. Her broken sounds panicked Geto– making him wonder if you were hurt.

Geto sent a hurried text to his friend, not even a second later– the white haired sorcerer was appearing before him.

“What’s going on?” Gojo asked, his voice stern and serious.

“I heard distressing sounds coming from inside, but she wouldn’t answer me when I called for her. I’ve been knocking for a bit, and she won’t answer.” Geto rushed out, worried deeply for his friend.

Gojo thought quickly and mumbled under his breath before placing his hand on Geto’s shoulder.

“She’s gonna hate me for this.”

Before Geto could ask, Gojo had teleported the two of them inside her room. The sounds of her whimpers louder and so clearly coming from the bathroom. The noise broke both the men, the two giving each other a look before moving towards the bathroom.

“Moon, are you okay in there?” Geto asked, seeing as Gojo grew suddenly silent.

The whimpers died down, the shuffling almost stopping immediately. The two men glanced at each other– trying to figure out what she was doing. Before they could talk amongst each other– the door suddenly opened.

Moon walked out, glancing at the two standing before her in her room.

“Yeah I uh… my stomach’s been off. Must’ve been something I ate.” She explained to them, keeping her gaze on the floor as she walked towards her couch and plopping down.

Her episode had tired her out, and she felt ready to pass out at any moment.

Geto was the first to study her, his eyes trailing up and down for injuries– but stayed stuck on her pale and clammy face. Her skin looked a little sickly.

“Sorry to hear that, and sorry to barge in– we just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He explained this time.

She waved him off, giving him a weak tired smile.

“I appreciate it, but I’m fine.” She assured him.

Geto wasn’t entirely convinced, but he was happy to at least see her with his own eyes. No injuries were enough to keep him relaxed for now– but he was still worried about her. Always would.

The long haired sorcerer glanced over to Gojo, who was gazing intensely at Moon. His blue eyes exposed and studying her features, memorizing every freckle– every inch of her skin.

Moon lifted her gaze to Gojo, swallowing nervously when she became aware of how deeply he was looking at her. It was an overwhelming sensation of feeling seen– like someone could finally see her pain written all over her body. The pain that she refused to reveal.

Despite Gojo having so much to say, to ask– to know. He stayed silent and followed Geto as he said goodbye and left her room.

Moon sighed in relief, a part of her grateful that they hadn’t caught her in such a state. Although the other part of her longed for them to stay– for him to stay. She wanted to tell him everything, but instead she kept telling him nothing. The way it should be.

The two sorcerers walked in silence next to each other, both too lost in their thoughts to create small talk. It was almost as if they knew they were both thinking the same thing, or at least they had the same ideas– same theories about what exactly was going on with Moon.

Geto was the first to break the silence, after taking note of the concerned look on his friends face.

“Satoru…” He started, but was quickly interrupted.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be focused for the mission.” He rushed out, running a hand through his white strands.

Geto frowned and stopped walking, causing Gojo to turn and study his friends expression.

“Let’s not shut each other out, okay? We already have that issue at hand.” He started, his tone stern but his expression soft. “I just need you to be honest with me. I’m worried about her too– so I need you to talk to me if you feel there's something wrong.”

Gojo’s eyes softened and his shoulders slumped, knowing he was right. It was easier to ignore the issues– ignorance was bliss. Although, he knew all too well that it would only be worse at the end.

“I just want our friend back.” He whispered, his gaze dropping to the floor.

Geto let his hand rest on his friends shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze– bringing Gojo’s attention back on him.

“Our Moon is very much there Satoru… we just have to keep being there for her.” He reassured him.

Geto wasn’t pigheaded, he knew very well that Gojo was blaming himself heavily for this whole situation. Despite it being completely out of his control– he knew Gojo well enough to know that wouldn’t matter.

“I feel like I’m not doing enough.” He expressed, his voice weak.

Geto gave his shoulder another warm squeeze before removing his hand from him completely.

“You are, my friend.” He promised him.

The dark haired sorcerer left in the direction of his room, leaving Gojo alone with his thoughts. But he knew there wasn’t much else he could say to comfort him. Geto knew he would just have to keep reminding him he was doing enough, until Gojo believed it himself. Meanwhile, maybe his own words would convince himself too.

Gojo did feel comforted by his friends words, but he knew that all too well that the pit in his stomach wouldn’t stray away.

Where’d you go Nines… Gojo thought lastly before heading to bed.

ending notes. hmm, now we are starting to see the two different perspectives of why they aren't close anymore. poor miss moon is kinda a mess 😭 feedback is appreciated as always 🤍

#jjk #anime #jujutsu kaisen #gojo my beloved #gojo satoru #gojo x oc #toji fushiguro #angst #angst with a happy ending #fic rec #fic series #sinking lily pads fic #hurt/comfort #major angst #slow burn #geto suguru #jjk geto #jujutsu geto #geto suguru is such a sweetheart

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abouttofillhisshoes · 13 hours

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And how can I refuse? - M.H x Reader // blurb

A/N: am still not ready to let MPIND Matty go so have this xx

wc: 5k

content warnings: smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), marking, lipstick kink?, lingerie, begging, praise, teasing, general possessiveness, matty wears a skirt x

Most people live off of food, water, and oxygen. You know, the actual building blocks of life. When it came to Matty, it was all about your eyes, specifically, where they looked. It always had to be with him. Matty. Only him, no one else.

He might tease and poke fun, but it was his weakness. Seeing you reach for your camera even your most intimate moments made his insides twist up and his stomach flutter with butterflies. Posing and contorting to your will, he did his absolute best to look amazing for you, to look how you wanted him to look. He relished in the small gasps you’d let out when the picture developed, his skin glowing under the flash, a thin layer of sweat sticking to it.

Which is why, when you had left the house to go pick up something you’d left at Ross and Hann’s flat, he saw an opportunity. The door slammed shut with an echo through the foyer, signifying you had departed. This was one of the rare times you hadn’t taken your bag with you, leaving it hanging on a chair in the kitchen, completely out in the open.

Matty’s eyes flickered over to it from the sofa, waiting a few moments to see if you’d come back for it. The house stayed silent, the only sound coming from the sofa creaking as he got up, tentatively walking over into the kitchen. Your bag was already zipped open, the contents of it clearly visible. One specific item stood out to him, glimmering under the light. Your precious camera.

The purple plastic was smooth in his hands, his fingers gliding over the surface. Matty could feel his heart begin to race at the thought of what this very lense had seen. His bare skin, your hands on him, nails raking over his chest, leaving scratch marks in their wake. Memories flashed through his head as he mindlessly walked into your now shared bedroom.

The once warm white fairy lights had been swapped out for pink ones instead, a new addition to your shared space that you were yet to discover. Your bed was unmade, sheets scattering across the mattress in a messy fashion, everything covered in an obscene amount of pillows.

This had been on Matty’s mind quite a while now, though he never had the opportunity to act on it. That is, until now. It was perfect, with you gone out for god knows how long, he had the ideal set up for a bit of “mischief” as he himself put it.

He groans as the warmth of the bed enveloped him, welcoming him home. Pink light poured over the sheets, painting them in a warm hue. Perfect.

Mattys began setting up.

Femininity wasn’t unknown to him. He owned multiple skirts and dresses, makeup products, even hair pins and clips he’d managed to nick from you when you weren't looking. You knew about all of this, seeing him every day, it would be pretty hard to miss it. Though, there was one thing he hadn't told you about yet. His affinity for womens clothes wasn't just limited to the odd skirt or sheer top, but also included undergarments.

Neatly folded in a drawer underneath piles of socks and shirts, was a small collection of womens lingerie. Panties and garters in various colorways, ranging from cotton to silk or even the odd piece of lace. It wasn't like he’d been hiding it from you, you just never asked. Feeling slightly giddy, he grabbed a pair of black lace panties from the pile, slipping them on underneath his basic grey joggers. Showtime.

Matty had decided to forgo a shirt for this specific photoshoot, knowing you'd much prefer him without one. The camera was heavy in his hand, weighing it down slightly as he lifted it slightly above his line of sight. Offering a sly grin to the lense, he pressed down onto the shutter, the flash almost blinding him. The picture looked innocent enough, the only remotely suggestive thing was his lack of top.

Ruffling his hair with his fingers, he tugged down his joggers slightly, letting them hang low on his hips as he snapped the second picture, this time, from below. His hip tattoo was the most visible, standing out against his pale skin like a sore thumb. That still did nothing to distract from the obvious bit of lace peeking out from the band of his pants. The thought of you seeing him like this drove him insane, but he quickly regained his composure before getting in place for the third photo.

Matty had managed to pull off his pants with only one hand, the other inspecting the fresh polaroid that the camera had just spit out. Now completely naked, apart from a skimpy pair of panties, it was time to get a bit more creative.

Setting the camera on the desk adjacent to the bed, he set a timer. Hearing it tick down, Matty found a good position and stayed. Flash. The sudden light was something he could never get used to, his eyes always slightly scrunched up in the pictures.

The camera was placed further away, but not too far, capturing the entirety of Mattys body. He was perched on the bed, on his knees with his legs spread, chest pushed out dramatically.The underwear he had on was now fully visible, the thin material barely concealing anything. His hand covered his growing erection, the thought of your reaction to the pictures once he was done was enough to give him a semi. The flash didn't bother him too much, throwing his head back just in time for the shutter to go off.

Leaving the picture on the bed next to him to develop, he grabbed the camera off the desk, setting it aside. His hand trailed down his chest, ghosting over his nipple piercing. Giving it a tug, just as you would if you were here, he let out a wanton whimper, letting go. The other hand was already palming himself through his panties, getting him fully hard.

The sensation of the lace rubbing up against his cock was almost too much, precum oozing out of the tip, painting the front of the panties with a wet patch. Working himself up, his hand reached for the camera, turning it around to face the lense to himself. Forcing his eyes open, parting his lips, he groaned desperately, clicking the shutter as he did.

The picture didnt show anything below the top of his chest, but fuck, it didnt need to. The expression on his face was one of pure want, lust, desire. Taking deep breaths to pull himself together, Matty moved on to his fifth and final position.

On his stomach, he propped a pillow underneath his elbows, giving him something to lean on. His curls fell over his face messily, covering most of his left eye. Knowing you, you'd probably make some offhanded comment about how he looked “terribly emo” like that, but he pushed the thought to the back of his mind. That wasn't important right now.

Angling the camera just right, his finger came up to meet his lips, pushing through them and into his wet mouth. Sucking on them slightly, he lets them hang out lazily, coating his lips and chin in spit. The flash reflected brilliantly off of his fingers, making the whole picture appear even lewder than it already was.

Quite happy with his work, he sets all five polaroids onto the bed in front of him, admiring himself. Painfully hard underneath his panties, he knew you would be coming home soon, and quickly scrambled up to put on some clothes. Grinning as he walked over to the wardrobe, he knew exactly what he was going to wear for you.

—---------------------------------------------------------------

The sound of the keys hitting the counter echoes through the house. Eyes darting across the room, you see no sign of Matty anywhere. Brushing it off, you shrug your jacket onto the sofa, sitting down on top of it, hand itching for a cigarette. You look around for a stray pack Matty had left somewhere.

That's when you see it.

The posh glass table had almost hidden the items that were placed upon it. You immediately recognised them as what they were: Polaroids. Heart racing a thousand miles an hour, you pick up the first one.

It was of a shirtless Matty grinning up from below, and you feel butterflies in the pit of your stomach. Another picture, this time from below, also shirtless, with pants hung low on his waist. Your breath hitches at the sight of his underwear peeking out from the waistband, holding the polaroid to your face to get a closer look. Lace. You moan audibly at the sight, blushing slightly at your reaction.

Hands shaking from excitement, you take the third picture, and you swear, your heart stops. Matty looks like a work of art, legs spread onto your shared bed like a true pornstar, head thrown back in an attempt to show off his long, slender neck. The bulge in his panties was badly hidden by his hand, leaving barely anything to the imagination.

The fourth is your favorite, always partial to Matty’s beautiful face. His open mouth and hooded eyes made your head spin, feeling lightheaded at the sight. The thought of him like this underneath you made your thigh clench, soaking your underwear.

The final picture is probably the filthiest. Fingers in his mouth, spit covering most of the bottom part of his face. So distracted by it all, you almost manage to oversee the bright pink post-it note stuck to the center of the table.

“upstairs x” was scrawled onto the paper, Matty’s handwriting immediately recognisable. It hits you at once. Matty was upstairs, waiting for you. He was waiting for you and you knew he was ready. Scrambling to get up the stairs, you stub your toe against the bannister, cursing out loud.

Before you can open the door, you're greeted by another note. This time, there was heart scribbled onto a green post-it, messily encasing both of your initials. An arrow ran through it, and you got the message immediately.

The door seemed awfully heavy as you pushed against it, pink light flooding your senses. Matty.

Matty was laying on the bed, legs stretched out on top of unorganized pillows and sheets. A green skirt covered his lower body, the satin shimmering in the light, almost blinding. The mesh top he had paired with it showed his piercing perfectly, the sight going straight to your core.

Before you can react, or even properly take him in, a flash actually blinds you. Matty has your camera. You rub your eyes to get rid of the burning sensation, before turning your head back to meet his eyes. A grin makes its way onto his face, the purple object clutched in his hands as the polaroid comes off of the top. Waving it through the air as it develops, you give him a look, holding up the pictures he had left you.

“You like em?” he asks, eyes darting over your body. You knew you looked desperate, hands slightly shaking and pupils completely blown out in lust. Nodding your head, you take a step towards the foot of the bed just as he gets up. Patting the space next to him, he looks at you expectantly, setting the photo and camera aside.

Getting a closer look at him, you realize he’s wearing makeup. This isn't unusual for Matty, but what was unusual was the bright red shade of lipstick lining his mouth. The sight made you smile, seeing as the product had smudged ever so slightly down his face.

The moment you settle in next to him, he flings his body on top of yours, straddling your waist. No genre of porn could top the sight in front of you right now, not even close. His curls stuck to the top of his forehead, and you could see his raging hard on through the thin material of his skirt.

“Why don't you get this off for me, yeah?” you tug at the seam of it, and Matty nods frantically, pulling it up and over his head before discarding it in a random corner. If heaven was a place on earth, it would be right in this room, with Matty, half naked and hard.

As seen in the picture he had so kindly gifted you, the lace panties truly didn't do anything to conceal him. The mesh top (yours of course) ended right above his hip bone, showing the perfect amount of skin. His eyes looked dazed as he leaned down to kiss you, lips smashing against yours.

The kiss is slow at first, with Matty deepening it the moment you kiss him back. Tongue and teeth and spit and his soft moans as you licked into his mouth filled your senses, your mind thrown into a lustful haze, the only cure being Matty finally fucking doing something.

Your hands thread into his hair, tugging in that way you knew he liked as his lips trailed down your jaw and onto your neck, sucking deep purple hickeys into your skin. A rough hand pushes your shirt up over your head, meeting the same fate as his skirt, forgotten in a corner. You silently thanked god today was a no bra day as your nipples hardened against the cool air.

You feel his hips grind down onto your thigh, soft whimpers leaving his lips as he continues his assault on your neck and chest. Nibbling at your collarbones, you see him reach under the pillow for something.

Red flashes across your vision, before settling right in front of you. Lipstick. Uncapping the top, you watch as Matty refreshes his lips, dabbing the product on softly, just as you had shown him months before. His eyes never left yours, a certain air of cockiness surrounding him.

Before you could react, Matty’s hand pushes you further into the bed, your head sinking into the pillows. The lipstick is slightly warm against your chest, and your breath hitches as you realize what he's doing. Matty is writing on your body, and you know exactly what.

His name.

Ever the territorial type, he had a knack for carving his initials into things. Whether it be the chair in your old room he used to have monopoly over, or random benches he sat on often. Bus stops, furniture, even walls had either his first name or initials carved into it. You were no different.

The red of the lipstick is bright against your skin, and Matty knew it would stain, which was exactly why he chose it. Small gasps leave your mouth as he palms your tits, leaning back to admire his artwork.

Kisses litter your ribcage, and you feel him lick a hot stripe across your underboob. Never breaking eye contact, he tugs at the waistband of your jeans, silently asking permission.

“Yeah, go ahead baby.” you say, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips. He smiles back at you, moving further down your body. Tugging your pants off of you, he snaps the waistband of your panties against your skin, making you yelp in surprise. A light giggle escapes him as he rids you of your underwear, now face to face with your glistening core.

The room felt unnaturally hot, and with Matty looking up at you from between your legs with that look in his eye that screamed “I'm going to devour you”, it seemed like even the slightest touch could have you coming in seconds.

His hand reaches around your thighs, making you scoot up slightly before diving into your folds, lapping at your clit with dizzying accuracy. It was so much all at once after endless teasing, and you were unable to control any other bit of your body. His strong hands gripped your skin, digging into it with such force that the spot started to go numb.

Writhing underneath him, his tongue licks circles around your clit, up, down and side to side, never letting you get used to something for too long. One of his hands leaves your thigh, instead, joining alongside his mouth between them.

Matty had big hands, the type basketball players and athletes usually had. His finger pushing into you felt like two of yours, and you immediately clenched around him, borderline pornographic moans spilling from your lips. Pumping in and out of you, that paired with the stimulation of his tongue had your head spinning and the world around you blurring as he added another digit, curling both upwards.

“Good?” you could smack him right now.

Smirking as he hits your g-spot, you squirm under his touch, trying to warn him of your approaching orgasm.

“F-fuck Matty, so good, you’re so good- Ohh god fuck.” your eyes screw shut, and you can feel the elastic in your core tightening as he speeds up, thrusting his fingers in and out of you at an animalistic pace.

He sucks your clit between his lips, and that's what throws you over the edge. You come, hard, probably harder than you have in your entire life, shaking and twitching as he tries to prolong your orgasm up until you start to move away from him.

His hand finds your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingertips as your eyes shut, basking in the afterglow of a mind blowing orgasm. You're at peace, completely oblivious as Matty shuffles around for a second, and you hear a shutter.

It happens so quickly, the photo was already in his hand developing when you finally open your eyes. Matty’s eyes stare back down at you, piercing your soul. In one hand, the camera, and in the other, he holds a fresh polaroid. One of you.

A blush spreads onto your face when you realize what he had done, covering your cheeks with your hand. Matty breaks eye contact to glance at the picture in his hand, his eyes widening at the sight.

It was all you, for the first time since you had pulled out that godforsaken camera. Hair strewn over the plush pillows, eyes screwed shut, and Matty’s hand groping your chest as he snapped the picture. You looked fucked out, like the personification of sex itself.

“Fuckk- you’re so pretty.” The first word sounds like a moan coming from his mouth, but he tries to hide it with the rest of his sentence. The red lipstick across your chest really did it for him, his cock twitching in his panties as he stared at the shiny polaroid. You start to get impatient.

“Why’re you looking at those when you have the real thing right in front of you?” you ask, cocking an eyebrow. You can hear the cogs turning in Matty’s brain as he lowers it from in front of his face.

Your hands travel up to grope your own tits, slightly smearing the imprint of his name. Letting out an obscene moan, you feel his own hands caress your face, pulling you in for a passionate kiss.

“Can I?” The question is small. Even in the heat of the moment, Matty always stopped and asked, gently stroking your hair and looking for any and all signs of hesitation. You decide to be mean, putting on a faux confused expression.

“Can you what?” your voice drips like honey, covering him from head to toe. Feeling him buck against your thigh, you shoot him a look, expecting an answer.

“Can I fuck you?” he whines, arms holding himself up right next to either sides of your head. “Please.” he adds, his eyes full of want and desperation. You pretend to think about it, averting your eyes and looking at the lamp on the ceiling for a moment while sucking in a deep breath.

The only thing that can be heard is Matty’s heaving breathing as he continues to buck into your thigh, although involuntarily. He tries to control himself, counting in 7’s and thinking of anything else but the person in front of him. Finally, you open your mouth to speak.

“Fuck me like you mean it, Matthew.”

The speed at which he took off the thin lace panties confining him could be recorded as a world record. Basically ripping them off, he throws them onto the steadily growing pile of clothing in the corner. Gasping for air, his eyes roll to the back of his head when your hand meets his throat, pressing against each side.

You hum, and Matty snaps back into reality, and you feel his hard cock leaking against your thigh. You wonder how long he had been sitting there, on the bed, waiting for your return. Did he touch himself? Has he cum already today? Or was he good and waited for you to give him what he really wanted.

“Did you touch yourself while I was gone?” you ask, right before he was about to push into you. The question takes him aback, and he nods his head.

“Only a bit, to get myself hard for you.” his voice shakes in anticipation as you process his answer.

“You didnt cum?” Matty shakes his head, curls moving with him.

“No I didn't, I promise. I waited for you. Only want you.” he mumbles into your hair, breathing in the scent of your conditioner.

You finally nod, hands pressing against his back, giving him the official go-ahead.

The moment the tip of his cock brushed against your entrance, his voice cracked. Loud moans spilled out of his mouth and directly into your ears as he pushed himself all the way inside of you, making you whimper at the stretch.

You both lay like that for a moment, before you finally tap him, telling him to move. When he finally does, he thrusts himself all the way back into you, making you cry out, nails digging into his back.

The animalistic nature of his thrusts makes you feel lightheaded, gripping onto Matty for dear life. He murmurs incoherent cries of pleasure into your hair, his hands moving down to grip your hips, meeting his thrusts halfway.

“So gorgeous, no one can compare. Feel so fucking good too, oh my go-” you clench around him, effectively cutting him off. The feel of his hands digging into your skin is painful, mixing in with the pleasure blooming between your thighs perfectly.

He doesn't let up, keeping a steady rhythm as his moans become more high pitched, signaling to you (and probably the whole neighborhood) that he was rapidly approaching the edge.

“Please let me cum, you feel so good- oh my god. You’re so wet- and warm fuckk- a-ah.” His words feed your ego, and you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in incredibly deeper.

Sweat beads on your forehead, and you see him pull away from the crook of your neck to stare at his name scrawled across your chest. The lipstick had started to properly smear, red running down your skin, painting it.

“C’mon, come f’me, such a good boy, go on, I know you can do it-” a guttural moan falls from Matty’s lips, his thrusts getting sloppier, cock slamming into that sweet spot inside of you over and over and over.

You come for the second time that night, your vision whites out as your orgasm crashes over you in waves. Stars dance behind closed eyelids and he slowed down slightly, giving you time to catch your breath.

“You like it when I call you a good boy? You're being so good- fuck filling me up-” This was all about Matty now, and you were determined to give him the most mind blowing orgasm of his life.

His dick twitches inside of you as you tell him to keep going, to use you to get off. Eyes widening in shock at your statement, his face quickly morphed into undeniable pleasure as his cock dragged along your plush walls, the friction sending him into what seemed like an alternate dimension.

“I look pretty, don't i? Look at your name on my chest.” you breath, your hands cupping your chest, gesturing to the bold red of his name. Matty.

“You're mine, no one else’s” his possessive side finally truly comes out to play, words spilling out from his lips before he could even properly think about them.

“I’m yours, only yours, my perfect boy, fuckk” you egg him on, your hands moving to his back, digging your nails into the muscle. You dig deep enough to draw a bit of blood, and Matty groans, raspy and desperate to fucking come.

“You’re perfect, fuckin’ made for me.” He right there, and you know it,

“Matty, you’re so good to me, so pretty- all for me, isn’t it?” you voice drips with lust, determined to make him finally fall over the edge.

“Oh god- fuck- A-ahh.” His voice is high, higher than yours even. He spills into you, his come filling you up to the brim. You moan at the sensation, pulling him in for a messy kiss, your teeth clashing together.

Matty flops on top of you, your chests pressed together as you continue your post-fuck makeout session. You can feel his come leaking out of you, pressing your thighs together to keep it off the bed.

“Why’re you so tense? I just gave you the best orgasm of your life, thank you.” of course Matty would say something like that, cocky and egotistical as ever. Your roll your eyes, debating on telling him or not.

“You just came inside of me, it's not like it just disappears.” his eyes widen in realization, and you laugh sheepishly, your face growing red. A grin spreads onto his face, and his head suddenly disappears from view.

“Let me just-” you feel his tongue in between your thighs once again, lapping up the remnants of his own orgasm. You shudder at the feeling, the overstimulation being almost too much.

He crawls back up to kiss you again. It's chaste, innocent almost, barely even a peck.

You can feel him shuffling around again, reaching to the side to grab something. The picture. He holds it up so you can both see it.

“Can I at least wank to this one? Since you have all those others of mine you constantly get off to.” he tries to sound indifferent, but deep down, you know he’s begging for your approval.

“How do you know I get off to them?” you ask, raising your eyebrows at him. Matty just laughs in your face, not realizing you were serious. How did he know?

“You're not slick, the walls are thin.” he gives you a wink, and you blush a deep shade of red, rolling your eyes at him. He sees right through your act, but chooses to leave you be.

Night had already fallen, and both of you were too exhausted to even move from your spot. Matty had switched with you, laying your head onto his chest, letting you use it as a makeshift pillow. It wasn't even 20 minutes before his soft snores filled the room, gracing your ears.

You smile to yourself, feeling his hand still in your hand from where he was stroking it. One though was clear in your mind, and you speak softly.

"I love you so much, I'm never letting you go."

#the 1975 #matty healy #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy smut #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #matty x you #matty the 1975

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luvyujun · 1 day

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secrets.

“i’m just as mean as all the other girls before me.”

it started as a little study session, which consisted of him trying his best to understand what you were saying. but when it turned into his own personal secrets getting shared to the world, it was either he gave in or suffered a lifetime of issues.

osaki shotaro. suggestive. dark content. angst. blackmailer!reader.

part of creeps.

i will repeat this one more time. d a r k. DARK content. i wont warn you again. xoxo - yana.

he needed help and he needed it quick. shotaro had a secret. a secret that would make heads turn, people whisper, the earth fall off its axis.

he was cheating in all his courses.

so maybe he was a little dramatic about the severity, but in his defense he was considered an academic weapon, even if it wasn’t necessarily the truth. ‘excelling’ in everything he did. not only that, he was a skilled athlete. your stereotypical “perfect guy”. the type of dude that everyone wanted to be or be with. but no one had to know that he was an absolute fake and everything he did wasn’t necessarily his work. until he found something that he couldn’t cheat his way through.

he was sure that he had exhausted all his options. rubbing his temples as his eyebrows knitted together. why did he even bother taking a french course? impending doom fogged the mans mind. until he saw you across the study — looking all put together, neat, and organized. recognizing your face from the shared course, he would constantly overhear your self praise when getting yet another perfect score as he sat right behind you. he couldn’t even compare with his fake 90s’ and 100s’ on almost every test. every assignment. but you? you passed with flying colors, just by using your own brain.

every. single. fucking. time.

he was jealous, but shotaro would never say that outloud. his happy-go-lucky persona never once faltered, he couldn’t possibly show that he was jealous of your success. at least not in public. so that’s how he got here. standing in front of your table while your eyes burned holes into his. shotaro had never felt so, judged. yeah, you were judging big time. what kinda weirdo stands in front of someone in silence. the silence was thick. the type of silence that you’d expect strangers to have, it was almost unnerving.

fingers clawing at the back of his head, as if looking for his words, a nervous smile spread on his face. “can i help you?” not sparring another glance as he stood idly. you had all intentions to study for the whole afternoon. glancing at the electric clock that clicked on your wrist, this detour was messing with your schedule. truly a wast of your time as he stood there in silence. a hushed scuff slipping past your lips, so quiet that he almost missed it.

just almost.

he took it as a sign to quickly jumble the words together. “i was wondering if you could help me. you know, study a bit for this upcoming paper in french.” he seemed — embarrassed. so used to being the one being asked, never the one asking. or maybe he felt embarrassed at the thought of you saying no. but you had no reason to deny him a little extra help. no reason at all.

taking small glimpses from your screen to his face, you couldn’t help but be . . . surprised? skeptical? amused? all of the above. you could sit here and simply say no. that seemed like the most reasonable option, because why did you need to help him? shotaro was known to have his shit together so why did he need help now. eyes darting across his features for any hint of malice, none was found. maybe he genuinely needed help. but wasn’t he supposed to he some prodigy?

huffing, your body relaxed in the chair, arms draping over the armrest, head hanging off the back of the seat. “yeah,” stopping to pull yourself to your feet, “yeah i can help you.” but you had close to no intentions of lifting even a finger for him. and with that, you were gone. he wasn't even able to get your number.

as the days progressed, he couldn’t help but feel more and more hopeless. watching you leave without giving him an update, as if you forgot. he sat in the lecture hall. fingers running through his hair as shotaro started his fourth attempt at writing his paper. it was due in a week and frustration was quickly overcoming his senses, cheeks flushed and red as his staring contest with the laptop in front of him continued. he was so stressed and focused that he didn’t see you leave today. before you were able to even step out the lecture hall, his sadden face caught your eye.

maybe

sliding in next to him, you placed your bag on the ground — reaching in to slip out your laptop. “what are you struggling with.” your voice ringed in his ears, causing his neck to snap around, your presence scaring him blue. “everything.” he muttered. letting his body go slump in the stiff chair, hands hiding his face as he tried to relax himself. taro hated how much this was getting to him. “well, what are you writing about?” leaning over, you dragged his laptop closer to your side. reading what little he had. amused by how . . . how bad it was. fighting back the laughter that desperately wanted to escape your throat, you waited and waited for shotaro to finally speak.

and god did he take a long time.

“i don’t even know anymore. i can barely keep up.” his usual happy expression being replaced with one of dread.

craning his neck, he watched as you typed on his device. stretching every here and now. noting how your brows furrowed every time you had to backspace, or when your tongue poked at your cheek when you were thinking.

“there.” sliding the laptop back over to him, he stared at his screen. bullet points of what he could do to make his essay somewhat acceptable. he looked over at you, watching as your fingers darted around your own respective keyboard. “and if you ever need help with anything else, call me.” you spoke, eyes still glued to your screen as you finished up — soon the lid of the device was closing and you were rising up from your respective chair. “and you’re welcome shotaro.” watching as you left, shotaro looked back at his screen. catching your number at the bottom of the document that he’d missed the first time around.

the week had come and he was anxious. granted that his professor wouldn’t notice that it wasn’t completely his work, but it was never his work, so why did it matter? his face lit up and he immediately when he got over a 50%. scanning the room for you — he watched as other individuals filed out the double doors and shotaro found himself walking to your seat. standing behind you, the male placed his laptop down on the desk. “look” he spoke, excitement lacing his voice.

nodding your head, you stared at the 85% blaring on the screen. nodding your head at the number, he slotted in next to you. “next time, i’m gonna need some payment for assisting you.” standing up, your patted his back before heading for the door — shotaro followed in suite.

“well actually, i was wondering if you could help me study. i want to actually do my own work this time.” he spoke while trailing behind you. unsure if his words were being acknowledged. your pave faltering for just a moment at his sentence while his sentence lingered in the air.

his own work for once.

thrudging to your car, he hadn’t realized what he said would inevitably lead to the next string of unfortunate events. it wouldn’t hurt him per-say, if he didn’t make it difficult. maybe you could get paid too. maybe you could get something extra. reaching the drivers side, you turned on your heels to face shotaro who was still behind you. “you know what, i guess i could do that.” the silence was heavy as he digested your words.

“i’ll text you my address then. does 7 today sound good?”

nodding in agreement, you slide into the seat of your car. watching as he walked away, painfully oblivious to the hot water he was standing knee deep in.

what a shame.

by all means, you weren’t a bad person. at least not to the public eye you weren’t. bad people do bad things and get caught, so if you didn’t get caught, you couldn’t be considered a bad person. the people who knew what you do and why do it would consider you as, frankly disgusting. but they don’t dare say a word, because if you go down, everyone goes down with you. but why would a student with a seemingly clean record blackmail people? for the power.

it’s quite simple and cut-throat actually.

arriving in front of shotaros’ house, you pulled out your phone — sending a quick here before getting out of your car. stepping up to the door of his home, it was quickly swung open and a weirdly excited shotaro stepped into view. after a few quick greetings, he was leading you through the house. pointing out bathrooms and the kitchen, saying something along the lines of make yourself at home before opening the door to his bedroom.

throwing your bag onto his bed, you sat on the edge of the mattress. pulling out your laptop, shotaro stood awkwardly in the doorway. not noticing until you went to look at him, but he wasn’t next to you. it was almost as if he was waiting for you to tell him what to do. i mean, this was his house. why was he waiting for you to call the shots.

“are you going to stand there or are you going to make this worth my time?” your voice coming off a little, harsh. it was what he needed to get his ass into gear. stumbling over his own two feet, shotaro grabbed his own laptop from off his wooden desk. sitting against his headboard, he watched from above his laptop screen as you shifted at the foot of his bed. taking in your attire, as it was drastically different from how you clothed yourself for a school setting.

the usual crisp, minimalistic cardigans and blouses being replaced with a thin black tank top with a deep u-neck that allowed your necklace to slip a little too far down your chest. modest skirts and leggings replaced with shorts that left nothing to his imagination.the only thing indicating that it was in fact you, being the shining jewelry that complemented your skin and of course way you broke him apart with your stare.

the same stare that you were giving him as he eyed you with no shame. a loud cough bringing him back to reality. “you barely know me and you’re already being a creep.” he was greeted by a repulsed expression on your face. mumbling a quick sorry, he never realized how hostile you were. or maybe you were good at hiding it.

before shotaro knew it, 30 minutes would turn into an hour and an hour into four. “i need a break.” slamming his laptop down, shotaro let his head fall into the palms of his hands. tears threatening to roll down his cheeks at any given moment. not use to actually putting in the work, it was making him second guess his own intelligence.

intelligence that was never quite there from the start.

hours had passed and the intense studying atmosphere was too much for him. from the way you got irritated when he got a word wrong, down to the nonverbal ways you’d belittle him. strategically placed snickers when he would get visibly worked up. seeing his usual smile fade into a deep frown. glancing forward, a gut wrenching smile on your lips, you took his distress as an easy opportunity. sliding your now warm laptop onto his bed, you crawled up the bed and situated yourself next to him. using the palm of your hand to rub slow circles onto his shoulder, giving him some sense of comfort. comforting that unbeknownst to him, wouldn’t last long.

“you know, this wouldn’t be this hard if you had been doing your own shit from the very start.” the way you paired such cruel words with a sweet tone nearly gave him whiplash. whipping around to look in your direction, his words got caught in his throat when he realized you were smiling.

“and you know, you should reaaallllyyy watch what you say. the wrong people might hear it!” continuing to taunt the man, it only further pushed him into a state of hysteria? fear? both? whatever he was feeling was only getting fueled by your words. “but listen, i won’t tell anyone. as long as you just, give me what i want. and i’m not asking for much taro.” hands sliding over his thigh, the muscle tensed and but was quick to relax. boarder-line breaking down, shotaro quickly collected him.

it was bad, but it could be worse.

“what do you want me to do?”

“you know what i want you to do.”

“we love when yana gives us a cliffhanger” you all said in unison. ok but am sorry it’s not actually smut. my creative uh, jucies were running low. first taro writing and its not even complete. whoops! question of the day, will yana ever write a fic thats 3k. the answer is probably no!!! this is like 2.1k words though so cutting it close. after 1k i start to get a little groggy. love you junebugs.

#luvyujun #riize shotaro #shotaro #riize angst #riize suggestive #riize x reader #creep!riize #riize reading #riize

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osaemu · 7 months

Text

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ CAN I PUT YOU ON HOLD? ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ he picks up the phone in the middle of fucking you. NSFW

contents: fem!reader. cunniligus, lil' bit of dirty talk and more... i'm too tired to type it all out </3

author's note: idk personally i wouldn't take that.. but i guess i would if it was satoru. anywaysss enjoy

satoru's a busy man — balancing his responsibilities as a teacher and as a sorcerer is no easy task, but he finds a way to make it work.

anyone who's known him for longer than a minute can easily tell that satoru's committed to his line of work. as much as he complains about it, the truth is that it's one of his top priorities. maybe even the first one.

and you get a taste of just how devoted satoru is when he picks up the phone in the middle of fucking you.

"hello?" satoru cooes, eyes focused on your indignant expression as he holds a finger to his lips. "yeah, i'm free to talk. what is it?"

"free to talk?" you mouth at him incredulously. satoru replies with a wink and grins, enjoying the show. you're still pinned underneath him, bedsheets haphazardly strewn across your body, and satoru savors the sight of you all needy and pouty.

"yeah, take your time," satoru says amusedly to whoever's on the other side of the phone after a moment. when you reach up and swat satoru's chest indignantly, he uses his free hand to pin your wrists above your head, a clear warning in his eyes.

after a couple of mhm's and of course's, the conversation still isn't over. your patience is waning — who is satoru to just stop in the middle of fucking you to pick up a phone call and say that he's free to talk?

you try to distract yourself by thinking about the mindblowing sex you were having just minutes ago. the longing, glassy stares; the red scratch marks down satoru's back; and of course you couldn't leave out the words.

"fuck, you're taking me so well, sweetheart." "atta girl, you're a natural slut, aren't ya?" "your pussy was made to be fucked by me, wasn't it?"

how did that turn into "yeah, make sure the higher-ups know about this, otherwise they'll give me hell for it. mhm"?

after another bland minute, satoru rolls off of you and sits up with his back against the headboard, sheets falling to expose everything from his waist up.

you whine in impatience, glaring at him like a sullen child. satoru basically just edged you — one second you're about to get to best orgasm of your life, the next you're forced to watch your boyfriend chat on the phone nonchalantly as if he wasn't just moaning your name like a slut three minutes earlier.

satoru shoots a glare at you and pats his lap, pressing a finger to his lips as a reminder to stay quiet.

well then, he shouldn't have picked up the phone in the middle of fucking you.

you scoot yourself into his lap, purposefully positioning yourself so that your pussy just barely rubs against the head of satoru's still-dripping cock.

it's so worth it when you hear satoru inhale a sharp breath and start to squirm under you, somehow both trying to push himself inside but also trying to inch himself away. it's like he can't decide, but the way his face flushes red speaks volumes.

his voice is breathier than normal as he squeezes his watery eyes shut. "yeah yeah, that's perfect. you mind if i put y'on hold for a sec? alright, thanks."

you glance over at satoru as he retracts the phone from his ear and puts it on mute. not even a second later, he's back on you, manhandling you into a position where he can comfortably eat your pussy, a cheeky smile on his lips.

"you think you're so fucking funny, don't ya?" satoru cooes, looking up at you as he eats you out sloppily. a mixture of his saliva and your essence drips down his chin, and the lewd sounds slipping from his lips are pornworthy. the wail that slips out of your lips when satoru bites down on your thigh hard enough to leave a mark is anything but appropriate, especially when he presses his lips back to your pussy and laughs in the middle of tonguefucking you.

"fuck, you're so lucky my phone's on mute right now," satoru groans, still buried in between your thighs. "god, if my old man could hear you now—"

"your dad's on the other end of the phone?!" you gasp, swatting satoru's head and frantically reaching over him to check if the phone was actually on mute — knowing satoru, it could've just slipped his mind. intentionally.

satoru scowls, muttering a reminder for you to stay still while he eats his dessert before rolling his eyes and grumbling "what does it matter?"

"uh, that's embarrassing!" you whine. when satoru nudges his nose against you again, you reluctantly spread your thighs for him so he can continue his meal. satoru mumbles a thanks, but he doesn't respond beyond that.

"satoru!"

"what??"

"don't you have to finish your call?"

satoru sticks out his bottom lip, fixing his cerulean eyes on you and pouting. "you were just complaining about the call and now you want me to go back??"

"it's your dad, satoru," you groan, pushing his shoulders away from your legs and ignoring his protests. "you don't get any more pussy until you finish that damn call."

"i hate you."

"love you lots, baby."

satoru sighs dramatically and unmutes the call, not bothering to respond to his dad's questions with answers longer than a word or two. after another minute of this, his dad finally hangs up and satoru lets out an elated cheer.

he turns to you with a mischievous smirk.

"now, where were we?"

#osaemu #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo smut #satoru gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x y/n #gojo x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x y/n

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gorejo · 3 months

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▸ manager in public, creampies in private - gojo satoru (hockey player/fwb!)

synopsis: His jinx — fucking the manager behind his coach’s back before every game — has become a rather risky ritual that he’s secretly developed over the years. With you, a regular pattern of his life, Satoru proposes a deal before his final game — the last time he’ll confess, “you wanna fuck me or do wanna date me?”

contents: wc: 15.2k(i am so sorry y'all.... i have no words for this), unedited. fem/afab!reader, she/her pronouns, reader is referred to as "girlfriend," pet names: baby, pretty, (there are so many), satoru calls himself daddy as a joke, locker room sex, fwb!, explicit language, p -> v penetration, creampies, lots of fucking. suguru moved to another uni. cunnilingus, squirting, fingering, teasing, mating press, doggy, gojo can carry the reader because he’s strong like that. little bit of Satoru’s pov..

The stadium is cold the moment you walk in. It’s enough to make your cheeks mildly sting and send shivers down your back, leaving the tip of your nose to feel frozen. From the crisp smell of the rink that’s been brushed out just moments prior, to the vibrant conversations of adults and the cheers from children anticipating the next game, everything tugged for your attention.

At the apex of winter sports, today will mark the champions for the national collegiate tournament for Division I Hockey.

For the normal attendee or avid fan of the sport, being there should be exciting.

But it couldn’t be far more inapplicable for you. A nervous pit coiled inside your gut — a dichotomous force of friction that made your heart thump in anticipation, but your stomach churn in anxiety.

Your mind felt like a fuzz. Guess, it didn't help that your ears also felt plugged, with every sound muffling inside that annoyingly distorted your rational thought — or whatever was left of it.

Stumbling onto the bleachers with your cheeks feeling hot despite the chill that surpassed your skin, your legs felt wobbly while walking over to your designated seat as the beloved team manager; like a broken record, your mind replayed a moment you had not less than an hour prior.

“Control him from doing anything irrational off the courts. That’s your only job today.” the head coach warned before making his way out of the locker room, his thick calloused hand placed on your shoulder, his firm grip a forewarning to not disappoint him.

“Whatever he chooses to do on it, he can go crazy all he wants as long as he brings home the trophy. I don’t care,” Yaga Sensei muttered, lowly chuckling as he hitched up his glasses, “you’re good at your job, make the last one count,” he firmly stated before closing the door behind you.

Of course, that was your job and in no way were you going to fuck things up. Every game was the same: regulate your star player, do damage control for his unhinged actions, and babysit him – the prodigy for the University of Tokyo, from doing anything negative that the press could get their hands on.

Or in simpler terms: control your fuck buddy and do whatever it takes for him to not be so unfiltered — keyword: whatever.

You recalled the week prior, cringing at the aftermath of his actions, with you sowing the repercussions of damaging your almost perfect reputable reputation — a total disaster of an interview, the distress to your migraines you had every game day thereafter from both him and Yaga-sensei.

Granted, conducting an interview post-game wasn’t fun for anyone especially when it was painfully knowing that the reporters were only interested in trying to leach out any information to make a viral post of the handsome center.

His articles sold, and any gossip obtained was always a hit.

His last article went viral — a hot topic of gossip in all outlets of social media, trending not only in Japan but in other countries as the hot man that kicked a reporter, Gojo Satoru, University of Tokyo’s center, and the most infamous, Gojo’s girlfriend. It was of a photo of Satoru midshot, kicking a reporter with his long legs easily reaching to their face with a cheeky smile while his hands were haughtily in his pants with a blurred figure hiding behind his back, nimble fingers grabbing hold of Satoru’s clothes.

Surely, pretty privilege very much exists when more than half of the comments of netizens were:

omg look at his legs! He’s so pretty! That reporter deserved it.

damn, wish I looked that good kicking someone.

He makes me question my sexuality. What a beautiful man.

Definition of looks like a cinnamon roll, but would kill you.

Don’t worry y’all! That’s me behind him! I’m the girlfriend 😘

SATORU HAS A GIRLFRIEND? I’M SICKKKKKKK

Is it weird to find this hot? I don't condone violence but if it’s Satoru…

“So Gojo-san, what do you foresee as your next plan to defeat your rival player next week? Can we expect some friendly competition?” The reporter asked, intently waiting to type up any information Satoru had to give.

Sludging over the microphone, his voice vacant of any enthusiasm, but instead endowed in annoyance, “If he can keep up, then yea. It’s been over a year since we’ve been on the same court, I don’t keep up with his updates but I’m sure he’s been training on his own. He’s good at what he does.” Satoru tiredly sighed, brushing his bangs over his forehead, while lightly clutching onto the mic stand with his other hand, “Next question.”

And of course, the rather infamous question he gets asked every interview.

“Are you currently dating anyone? I’m sure you have loads of people wanting to date you.” Upon hearing the rather obnoxious giggle of the reporter, Satoru’s jaws clenched with irritation. “Any special plans for the New Year with a certain special someone, specifically maybe the one you were pictured with?”

Getting questions about his private life wasn’t out of the norm and was a regular occurrence. Usually, he’ll flirt with the idea and throw a little bait to the reporters, but particularly on this day, it rubbed Satoru the wrong way.

“What a stupid question, don’t you get tired of asking who I’m fucking?” Satoru numbly responded with life drained from his eyes despite the rather harsh clench of his jaws, “Well, if you’re so dying to know, I’m currently getting rejected on the daily by a rather oblivious person.”

“Any hints as to who —”

“Why?" he scoffed with a brow raised, unfazed, "so you can go harass her for information? Next question.”

“Hello, Gojo-San could you explain about the rumors that are going around about your fallout with Kyoto’s new center?” Another reporter quickly rode off the previous questions.

“What rumors?” Satoru furrowed his brows, clicking his tongue against his teeth, briefly glancing at you off to the side. A fair warning that he was getting uncomfortable.

Talking about his ex-best friend was still a sore spot for Satoru, a breakup without proper closure.

It happened without a notice, a fallout that occurred in the middle of the season during Satoru’s sophomore year, and for a year he’s been silent until he’s made his return with the rival school.

Closing his eyes to calm himself down, fisting his hand as he clenched his teeth, Satoru annoyingly answered back, “We just aren’t on the same team anymore, nothing crazy about that. It’s normal in sports.”

“Well, people are wondering if it’s true that he betrayed you to give the game plays away to his current team.” The man responded, his ignorance seemed bliss, but the malice undertone with the slight tilt of his upper lip told otherwise.

“Betrayed?” Satoru scoffed, the air in the conference room immediately felt cold, irked from the reporter’s nonchalance in picking at his ego, “the only thing getting betrayed is you when your wife sucks my co —”

On instinct, you rushed over to cover his mouth — fucking idiot — and quickly stated through the mic with a routined rueful expression you’ve made one too many times — on behalf of this dumbass.

“I’m sorry, but we’ll conclude this interview from here on! I thank you all for coming.”

While leaving, you quickly glanced at Yaga-sensei’s disappointed expression, his jaws clenched as he watched you both hurriedly make your way to the locker room with Satoru trailing behind with your grip over his wrist.

You were one hundred percent going to get an earful from Sensei.

Gojo dumb fucking Satoru always making your life a complete hell; you were determined to chew his ear off.

“Just wait till we get into the lockers, Satoru” you stated through gritted teeth, your grip on his wrists getting firmer with each step.

“Yea? Ooo I like it when you’re rough with me,” he grinned, the utter audacity of him to take you as a joke, “what are you gonna do to me in the locker rooms?” he gasped, his voice innocent — it’s laughable, really — despite his breath close to your ears with his firm chest right behind you, taunting you to continue with your harmless threats.

It’s cute and makes his cock twitch and quickly pool with blood whenever you’re being dominant — at least when you try to.

Opening the door, you snapped at him while taking a step in, “You’re fucking annoying —”

But things always seemed to take a turn to his advantage — always.

The milliseconds leading to the locker rooms were silent — silence breaking the moment you stepped foot into it with Satoru’s lips rammed to yours, his hands hungry for greater access to your body.

You’re completely caught off guard when his lips come crashing onto yours. The slight grunt of his voice mixed with a hint of a whine when he pushed you against the lockers, your hands naturally landing on his firm chest, easily melting into his grip — a sinful vice he’d been swaying over your head like a pendulum for the past years every time you both snuck around to fuck.

“I fucking tried,” he groaned into the kiss while he rapidly unclothed you. The annoyance that he’d felt a couple of minutes prior all dissipated out and funneled to you. It was apparent in the sheer urgency of his hands ripping off your clothes that his patience was running thin.

“Ngh, S-Satoru!” your chest felt heavy, your mind feeling fuzzy when you met his carnal gaze, “we need to talk —” you’re cut short when his lips latch onto your neck, his hot breath lacing up your skin as he pulled your arms upward and caged your wrists with one hand, while the other traveled down your stomach, straight to your heated core.

“Talk about what? How we fuck?” he moaned at the pleasurable feeling of your pussy being wrapped with his favorite cotton panties — the one he jokingly gifted for being his fuck buddy for a year — where soon he’ll be able to play with your cum coated folds while he fucked you against the mirror walls.

“Oh god,” you huffed in the split moment he pulled away to catch his breath when his fingers started stroking up and down your folds, the tips of his middle and ring finger playing with your tight entrance, “Toru, w-we gotta talk, Yaga-sensei —”

Scoffing out a chuckle, he let go of your lips, his teeth pulling against your lower flesh with his voice deep. He peered down at you with his orbs strictly dilated and dark, “Aren’t you cheeky? Trying to get Sensei involved.” His thumb brushed against your lower lip, the throbbing pain of your skin feeling sensitive when his calloused finger presses against it, “but you need me to explain to him how we always fuck behind his back?”

His hand traveled down your throat, his long fingers organically wrapping around your neck, a pleasing accessory around your neck, “I’d like that, too, it’s thrilling isn't it?” he taunted, his breath brushing against your heated cheeks, “but I don't think Sensei will particularly like what I say.”

“Y-your teammates ahh! —” You barely could let out a whine when his lips came crashing again, gasping when you felt the suffocated tension of your bra unclasping, exposing your breasts to the damp, cold air, the buttons of your shirt falling to the floor, “t-they’ll hear!” you tried whispering.

“They aren’t coming,” He growled, “ I locked the door,” his tantalizing voice contrasted with the sharp pain of his teeth biting into your shoulder, a dainty string of spit hung from his lips as he continued to paint your skin with his marks, felt all together euphoric.

“But they're more than welcome to listen, we'll give them the hottest free porn.”

You can feel his hardened bulge being pressed against your hips, it was torturous to not cup your hands over his hefty cock. And he knew. He could sense it, feel in the way you pulled back into the kiss, the wanton sounds of your needy breaths pleasantly luring him to want more of you.

“I need you,” he groaned while releasing your wrists and leading them to his member, having your hands hold his throbbing flesh, now painfully pooled with blood, while he aggressively shoved down his athletic shorts, freeing his very erect cock to spring out.

It was a sight to see — his cock freely nodding with pre cum leaking out of the slit, his head flaring a bright red while his veins bulged down his length. You can feel your mouth salivating at the sight of tasting his pebbled release sitting so prettily on his head.

It’s embarrassing how you were so weak to his touch, how desperately you wanted a taste of his release, to ultimately end up being completely stuffed with both his cock and his cum filling you up to the brim that it just had to leak out of your tight hole.

And it doesn’t help how your mind becomes a blank slate the moment his fingers stroke perfect circles around your hardened clit, the sounds of his reciprocated desires to devour you echoed so licentiously through your ears.

And accustomed to, your insides perfectly carved with the shape of his length, your inner walls throbbed, clenched the moment his fingers — one, two, three — slowly stretched out your needy pussy.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” his voice was teasing with a hint of impatience, “good girl," he praised when he feels you innately opening up for him. "show me how much you can suck me in, I wanna feel every inch of you,” Satoru coaxed, “trained this pussy so well, yea?”

Obediently nodding, your arms immediately latch around his neck, pulling him closer to your heated body. And with that, something short circuits in his brain the moment he sees you vulnerably so ready for him.

“You’re so fucking cute,” Satoru purred, the playful glint of his tone was the opposite of the sheer force he had when he quickly propped up your legs under his arms, pushing you further into the locker room as he rammed his cock inside you, your back arching at the sudden penetration — a dichotomy of pleasure and pain as three fingers surely cannot suffice and prepare you for the length and girth of his cock no matter how many times he’s fucked you.

“Hold tight,” he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips traveling down to your ears, tauntingly whispering, “I gotta swoon over my manager with a good fuck.”

Aggressively thrusting upward as the tip of his head searched for your sweet spot, your body folded from his strength. It doesn't take him long to find it — gummy and deep — especially when you're trembling and writhing in his grip. "because she just loves my cock, doesn't she?"

“T—toru,” you moaned out, the sweet mating call of his name ringing pleasurable to his ears.

“Who’s my good girl?” cooing as he placed a kiss on your nose, gently smiling despite his cock bullying past your wet, puffy folds, the sharp slapping of his skin meeting your thighs harshly echoing in the empty locker room.

And he swears he saw stars when he hears you.

— “Me.”

Currently shaking off the memory you had a week prior, you had one job: stop that from happening.

Well, that being another disastrous interview session — sex just so happens to come with it… always.

It’s not like you didn’t enjoy his company. It was rather quite the opposite — you craved his touch and longingly wanted to be by his side despite your words stating otherwise.

In short, you’ve been in denial. A secret you’ve upheld since the realization that he’s crept into your heart and took much more space in it than you would like to admit.

Falling in love with the university’s hot shot wasn’t something you’ve planned to do within your academic agenda. Being prompt with your studies, attending clubs, and enjoying time with friends while studying, with the occasional partying, maybe getting a boyfriend here and there, while accruing a job and work experience was part of the plan.

Not, him.

More specifically, loving Gojo Satoru, the bane of your existence, the pretty boy with an even devilishly handsome cock, that’s won your heart despite being your fuck buddy, was not part of the plan.

It should be a universal law: to never fall in love with your friend with benefit. And if there was a fine for being defiant of such a law, you would be the one prosecuted and trialed for such a wicked crime.

And to no surprise, even today, you were no saint.

Moments before —

“You know?” panting with his arms wrapped around your waists, thrusting upwards while he met your pace as you bounced on his cock.

With sweat dripping down his temple, he sucked onto your perked nipples, groaning when he feels you further tightening around his length — which was already snugly wrapped around him, “we should seriously date,” he frankly stated.

“Shut up,” you groaned, combing through his hair, adjusting your position to move your hips in rhythmic waves, the fire of your thighs making it difficult to withstand this position.

“Why not?” he groaned while pulling you down, cradling the back of your head with one hand while the other motioned your continual movements, his firm touch gratifying and making you feel safe despite the vulnerability of fucking in a public space.

“I—I don’t ahh ‘Toru that’s too deep! —” moaning from the hitch of his hips, forcing himself to go even deeper, the tip of his cock teasingly poking at your sweet spot as his girth stretched you out — each motion helping him to bottom out.

Your eyes are brimmed with tears as you hold his hair, pulling against his strands while the other digs into his shoulders, marking up his body — it was so easy for him to make a mess of you in such a short time, and he loved it; absolutely craved for it.

“You let guys that aren’t your boyfriend,” chuckling while he pushed your body down, feeling your juices run down his inner thighs, satisfied at how nicely his cock was soaking in your soft walls, “fuck” thrust “you” thrust “like” thrust “this?”

Despite the rather light tone of his voice, jealousy raged inside him. Because there should be no other answer than —

“No — “ your grasping at his back, using any part of his body to find leverage to mitigate the fullness you were feeling inside your tummy — the red scratches of his back and shoulders remnants of your relationship with him.

“Good,” he praised, gripping your ass with a sly smile teased at the corner of his lips, eventually blossoming into a brazen grin when he intentionally stopped his thrusts just to hear you whine out for him again, “and it should stay that way,” he confidently professed.

Dating Gojo Satoru. That would be nice.

Commitment issues? Sure, guess you can say you had that.

Insecurities? Most definitely so when your so-called partner was The Gojo Satoru — the university's hottest athlete currently in the process of being scouted to play in the professional league.

It felt all too surreal, everything inside of you was filled with him — literally and figuratively. From the way his lightly trimmed, now wet with your cum, hair tickled your clit to the way his cock filled every inch of you in one second only to be languid — slow and easy — pulled out and the next, rammed into you like a pistol releasing its bullet.

He usually took his time before games to fuck you, to enjoy and absorb your godly pussy power — he liked to always add while balls deep inside you with your thighs plastered to your chest, his weight pushing against your body, with the silliest smile despite the rather not so silly act he was doing with you.

A jinx, he liked to argue. A just happened chance of a one-night stand, now leading to years of fucking multiple times a week, under his solid impression that without you, there was no success.

Win after fucking. And a loss without it.

What can you say? Dick was good, but being in his arms felt even better.

It’s a sin. But at this point, did you have any leisure to contemplate if that’s even an option for you to not partake in anymore?

For someone that sleeps with drool coming out of his mouth, to the obnoxious thirst pics he would send only to you with an even more atrocious emoji ‘😜’ with a little ‘heh’ at the end, he sure gave you butterflies in your stomach; his mere presence made you feel good.

Crying and fervently pleading, with broken moans while every crevice of his cock continually carved your insides with his template, “Right there! — fuck ‘Toru, I—Imma cum please!” and he’ll reply with the most greedy moan as he pumped his seeds into your tight hole.

Satoru liked taking his time, but he also lavished under the thrill of a quick fuck. Desperately clinging onto each other, fucked into an absolute mess while he quickly rearranged your guts — that was his favorite.

“Can’t talk anymore?” he smiles. At the same time, he painfully fucks you at a slow pace, “Thought you were going to put me in my place?” cock twitching inside you when he notices how swollen your lips have become and the little squirm you release when you feel him growing within you, “it’s a shame, I like it when you curse at me,” he chuckles.

“Shut up,” you tiredly croaked, “you talk too much.”

“Tired?” he breathed out, looking up with his lips slightly bruised from the feverish kiss you had with him just moments before he chose to open his mouth — the type with tongue with spit drooling down the sides, unafraid to use to teeth to bite and tug.

“Mhm,” you quietly nodded, pulling yourself closer to his body.

“Thought you’d get used to me by now,” he peppered your shoulders with gentle kisses, “you know? by how much I’ve fucked you,” his touch now soft — almost fragile in the way he held you.

“You wanna try getting impaled by this,” clenching on his shaft for emphasis while you relished in his comfort, “and then tell me if you can get used to it too?”

“Relax,” he coached, chuckling as the padding of his fingers gently massaged your hips and eased out at your muscles, “I hear ya, just lean on me a bit.”

The warmth of his skin felt nice. The touch of his hand pressing against your body felt like electricity pulsing through your body while the circuits of your neurons flashingly fired to cause the heat of your core to spark in flames when he pressed tender kisses against your shoulders — one too gentle and comforting for a fuck buddy to be doing.

“You know,” he hummed, “dating me won’t be all too bad.”

“Sure,” you thoughtlessly answered back, snuggling your face into the crook of his neck, taking a whiff of his natural scent.

“You like me,” he placed a kiss on your temple, “and I think we’re pretty compatible,” he continued to kiss areas of your face, spending time to adorn every inch, “Sex is good, and I’m hot, so I don’t see why you won’t date me?”

“Who said I liked you?” your useless pride spoke before you registered his confession.

“Rude, who’s the one that won’t let me go in the mornings?” scowling as he lightly flicked your head. “and you mumble when you sleep, you know?” he smirked, the tilt of his lips teasing, his crystal blue eyes half hidden from his lids as he briefly looked down at your swollen lips, “it’s cute, but I would rather have you confess to me when you’re not half asleep.”

“You freak,” pouting as you tried hiding your face, embarrassed that you unknowingly outed yourself yet still chose to proudly reject his confessions.

“How about this,” looking up with eyes sparkling with anticipation, “if I make the last point, then you go on one date with me.”

“Is there an option to decline?”

“No,” offended you would say such words, you could practically see every aspect of his demeanor — hair, face, eyes — all simultaneous sulk in unison.

“Then what if you don’t make the last shot?”

“You won’t need to worry about that,” he cheekily smiled, cupping your face to place a soft kiss on your nose before reaching your lips. You can feel his cock starting to harden and twitch, evident from the small hitches of his hips to burrow himself slowly into you.

Leading you into a kiss, pushing you upward to give a little space for him to squeeze his cock inside you, the patience within him to wait for you to slowly sink onto his length again dissipates the moment he hears you tease.

With your mouth gaping open, and eyes tightly shut while your nails dug into his chest, barely managing to garner the strength to go for another round, you always talked so big. “You’re prideful to think one date can win me over.”

“I mean I already have,” shrugging as he leaned back on his elbows, scanning down to see where you’re both connected. it's arousing when he sees your pubic bone perfectly nestled on top of his, “You’re the one that’s sitting on my cock, no?”

“your mouth is the problem, Satoru,” rolling your eyes while you pushed him away, the heat of your cheeks burning up just as the core of your stomach flared up and coiled inside you.

Pulling you back, tilting your chin to meet his wanting eyes, “Hey hey, look at me,” he softly breathed, “I’ll be good to you,” he whispers, “I don’t go fucking around other girls, it’s just been you. I promise.”

“ ‘Toru —” you feel him slightly adjust his hips and in tandem, his cock moves deeper inside.

“Shh… just trust me,” shoving the rest of his shaft fully inside you, clenching his jaws and immediately wrapping his toned arms around your waist. From the sudden suffocating tightness surrounding his size combined with the pleasurable sensation of you writhing in his arms, he knew today was going to be a good game — his career best, at the least.

"I'll prove it to you. I'll win."

"what if —"

And through gritted teeth, while he steadies himself inside you, with each breath he emphasized, the gushing of your wet pussy coating his cock, and the desperate whimpers of your moans sounding so organic and delicate in his ears as he prepared you for another climax,

“Shh... you should know that best, princess. I always finish the job.”

—

Squirming in your seat, heart racing as you watched Satoru belatedly enter the rink, shaking out his white hair before putting on his helmet — droplets of sweat peeking through from his prior rendezvous, the slight bliss on his cheeks blooming with the puff of smoke huffed from his mouth.

Swiftly skating to his teammates to start on warmups, donning a blue and white jersey with white lettering with the number 6, there was a divide of a deep chant of his name coupled with the shrieking enthusiasm of his fangirls whenever he effortlessly made a practice shot. Whenever he slightly even glanced over to the audience, there was a roar of adoration.

“Keep it all in for me, yea?” the source of your migraine chuckled as he held your trembling body. His hands naturally moved to lightly massage your sore hips, the huffs of his solid chest inviting you to breathe and wind down.

In response you reached up to pinch his nipples, groaning from exhaustion, "pervert..."

“it’s my last game, so be nice to me.”

Fucking you till the last minute he could spare, Satoru decided to be cheeky and shoot his cum so deeply inside you. Huffing curses close to your ears as his arms pulled you further down on his cock, nearly piercing you with his length, his member pulsing with every splurt of his seeds pushed into you.

In conclusion, you’re now sitting in your seat, not daring to move for fear that it will spill. He was usually good at cleaning you up, taking his sweet time to kiss your cheeks and brush his bruised lips against your skin as he steadied his breath. But maybe it was from the nervous thrill he had of meeting his once friend, or the pent-up frustration of this past season that’s gotten to him, but one thing for sure was that Satoru came a lot — your wet panties currently pooled and soaked in his cum being proof of it.

“What took you so long, was looking all over for you?” Someone chirped behind you.

Flustered from hearing his voice, you quickly turned around, flinching when you felt a lump of fluid squeeze out of your pussy.

Cheekily smiling as he pulled up his skates while apologetically smiling, “I need my strings fixed… wondering if you had any extra?”

“Haibara-chan…” you forced out a chuckle, trying to shake away the sudden surprise, lightly shaking your head while you took his skates, “I’m starting to wonder…” slowly untying his laces, the cold stadium making it a bit difficult for your fingers to grasp onto the material, “if you’re doing something fishy with these?”

“... That's Gojo-san,” Haibara mumbled under his breath, sitting down on the bench, the clothes of his uniform oddly too big for his growing physique, “It just somehow ends up getting worn out all the time,” the younger man sulked, “I blame Yaga-Sensei for running us so hard during practice.”

“Mhm,” you hummed while searching through the team bag to find a new pair of white laces, “I’m teasing, Haibara-chan,” opening up the fresh pack to string his skates, “just promise me, you won’t be like him.”

“Him?” Haibara curiously asked, cocking his head to the side, his blunt bangs moving with the angle of his head.

Yes, Him — the one who’s currently in a headlock from Yaga-Sensei for completely blowing off the pre-game interviews.

“Ah, guess you’re referring to Gojo-san,” Haibara looked into the field, and took a glance at you, “but you like him, no?”

“Huh?” you felt a sudden pang in your stomach when hearing those words.

“Sorry! I meant like friends!” He raised his hands to rectify the tension from your question, cheeks blushing in embarrassment. “You’re close to him, right? We've noticed you both spend a lot of time together,” he hummed.

“Ah, yeah… I guess,” you softly answered, barely audible.

“He’s handsome and friendly, awfully a good athlete, and is smart too?” Haibara was practically bouncing on his seat while bragging about his beloved senpai, “There’s practically nothing the man can’t do!”

“Sure… but he’s the most insufferable human I’ve ever met in my life,” you grumbled, slouching in your seat to hide your face from possibly showing any emotion while talking about him.

“Really? Wow, I’m jealous,” he whispered, yet his voice chirped in adoration, “maybe he just really likes you, you know… like how close friends do that to each other! ”

Close friends.

Guess the dynamic of the relationship was of close friends but… not with a good conscience — close friends with benefits.

Despite the nature of your relationship with him, he wasn’t what you imagined. Indeed, you both didn’t start with the most cordial dynamic. You hated him and despised his guts when he “accidentally” stepped on your white shoes while he rushed out of the lockers.

Normally you wouldn’t mind. Accidents happen and you weren’t particularly fussy about those things to care. But when the contender that stepped on your shoes had size twelve feet, a literal giant compared to yours, of course, you’ll get livid — especially when the dirt of his soles made your shoe look gray from one step alone; furthermore, when he didn’t dare to say a simple sorry.

You recall grunting, mumbling curses at the stupidly tall asshole, with an even stupid smirk on his face while cleaning your shoes with a toothbrush during the middle of the night. You slept with the intent to kill him the next morning and make his life a living hell when you’re introduced as the team’s manager.

But guess what, Satoru would always have the upper hand. Before you can even introduce yourself, he’s stiffly walking towards you with a hand awkwardly scratching the back of his head while pushing something in your direction.

“Here,” he stares off to the side as he hands you a shopping bag, “I wasn’t sure what size you wore if it doesn’t fit, you can exchange it.”

“What?” you eyed him, unsure why he was acting so weird.

“Sorry, we got off on the wrong foot,” Satoru lamely threw out a pun, hoping the tension would ease out with a small laugh, instead he was met with your unfazed expression.

“tough crowd,” he softly murmured, sighing before leaving the room, “well, the receipt's in the bag if you don’t like it.”

Suspiciously eyeing the bag, you took out the box and opened it. Inside was a pair of shoes that were similar to the ones you wore yesterday before he ruined them, with a little note inside and a rather cute drawing of himself.

‘Hope we can get along. Welcome to the team.’

You felt acid slowly creep its way up your throat, gurgling in your stomach, making it painfully difficult to succumb anymore to this conversation. A stamp of reality that Gojo Satoru may possibly, after this game, become nothing more than a fever dream.

It’s silly, really. And it was even more ridiculous how you pulsed in your seat, longingly wanting that he would win — not for his own success, but for yours.

“Sometimes I wish he would be —”

“Yu and Kento, get your asses over!” Despite being from across the rink, Yaga-sensei’s voice boomed as if he was right next to you, breathing down your ear.

“I think Sensei is calling for you guys,” you interjected, kindly smiling with your eyes as you passed on his skates.

“Oh shit!” His eyes rounded, face paling and body antsy in his seat, “Ahh thank you for stringing these for me.” Bowing multiple times in gratitude as he reached over his skates, “Nanami! We gotta go!”

“Tell Sensei I’m not here.” You could hear his faint voice coming from the corner, his thick jacket covering his whole body with only his laced skates peeping from the bottom.

“I’ll give you five seconds, ” Yaga-Sensei threatened, “or you’re both running laps around the field till you drop tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir!” Haibara immediately stood up, quickly dragging his fellow blonded friend along with him — for someone less enthusiastic about his games and practices, Nanami was always fully dressed for the game.

“Ahh Gojo-san! Look this way!”

“GAHHH! Gojo-senpai is coming here! My phone! I need a picture!”

The shriek of his fans' screams painfully rang in your ears.

The chant of his name gets louder, the shrill becoming overbearing when you notice him skating towards your side of the stadium.

“Don’t you dare come here,” you mouthed, your eyes shooting daggers at the smirk on his face.

You could tell — no, you could feel every inch of your body being observed by the audience, daggers being sent in your direction.

Did he just fucking wink at me?

It was infuriating just how normal he was on the court while you writhed in your seat, having a mental shock whenever you felt a hot gush of viscous fluid drip onto your panties.

Satoru makes a crisp stop in front of you, taking off his helmet and shaking his hair. It was comical the way his fans fell to their knees, girls practically foaming at the mouth and guys mentally noting how to up their rizz game like the athlete.

Opening up the side door, he leans against the railing with his elbows resting on the surface, “you good?” he arrogantly asked. Though his words sounded caring, the slight mischievous twinkle in his eyes told otherwise.

“What do you think, Satoru?” You hissed through your teeth despite the friendly smile you gave him.

“Good girl,” he whispered out, just enough for you to hear, “ wouldn’t want you to waste any of it.”

“Gojo Satoru, I swear —”

The stereo briefly shrieks before announcing, “Ladies and Gentleman! Here come the visitors onto the rink! Give them your loudest cheers!”

Immediately you can see his jaw clenching, and the once vibrant color of his cerulean eyes becoming a shade darker as he turned around to face the opposing team. his gaze specifically lands on the team captain — Geto Suguru, Kyoto Spartan’s center.

“Are you going to be okay?” softly placing your hand on his forearm, worried he wouldn’t be able to control himself and act on his emotions.

“Yea,” he turned around half-heartedly chuckling as he looked down at your hand comforting him, only to look up with a smug look on his face, “you worried about your soon-to-be boyfriend?”

“I’m being serious, Satoru,” you lightly gripped his arm, the look of your eyes solidified his one of many reasons why he fell for you in the first place.

You were kind. well, kind enough to accept all his bullshit.

“I know, and I am, too.” He calmly reassured with his gloved hand placed over yours, “It’s gonna be a good game, and I gonna make you my girlfriend, so don't fall too hard, okay?” Satoru playfully winked, briefly squeezing your hand before leaving you to join his team, “I’ll be fine, worry about me after the game because I’m going to need it.”

Today would mark the champions for the Mens Division I finals: the Tokyo Trailblazers vs. the Kyoto Spartans.

The final terminus of once childhood best friends, Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru, now stood on opposite sides to be the final victor. Star players of both universities who played together till two years ago now stand as rivals at the collegiate championships.

“Eyes on the puck at all times,” Yaga-Sensei forewarned, “You’ve practiced with Suguru, and knowing his playstyle should be second nature, by now.” taking a glance at Satoru in his zone, eyes fiercely determined yet his composure was calm, “he’s not in our team, so play aggressive. Don’t ever fall behind Satoru, keep up at his pace and pass when you see the moment.”

“Yes sir,” the team harmoniously responded.

“Yu and Kento, remember to be careful, be vigilant and sharp, especially you, Nanami…” Yaga-Sensei cautioned, the lines of his furrowed brows behind his sunglasses deeply cut into his forehead, “No one else knows your position better than Suguru.”

Sophomore year, summer —

Jinx. noun. An evil spell; a person or thing supposed to bring bad luck.

It all started during your second year of university.

Just like how everything just happens, so does your relationship with Gojo Satoru. It started naturally — or you would like to convince yourself.

You were the team’s manager by title, and Satoru’s freelancing PR manager in private.

“Why the fuck do you always have to make my life miserable!” You hissed at Satoru uncaringly stuffing his clothes from his locker into his bag, “Sensei’s gonna kill me tomorrow,” you groaned, leaning against the lockers and sliding down to the cement floor.

“I think that’s a you problem,” he hummed, taking a glance down at you before he continued to pack his bags, “I told you, I wasn’t going to do that interview, especially after that shitty game.”

“You're doing this on purpose huh?” you numbly asked, the throbbing pain of your head making you feel dizzy, “you’re just a prick that can’t accept a loss.”

“Not exactly,” he nonchalantly responded while closing his locker, clicking his tongue in annoyance, “I just didn’t want to answer the same damn questions I get all the time, that’s all,” he stroked his hair back to expose his forehead before crouching down, leaning on his elbows, manspreading to your level while sitting on the bench, “it’s nothing personal, princess,” he winked.

His face was dangerously close to yours, almost as if he was taunting for something more than just a petty banter — especially in the way he titled his face, making it so easy to just —

“I wanna strangle you sometimes, you know?” you huffed out, glaring at him gloating down at you with the most irritating grin to exist.

Maybe it was the anger that blinded your senses but strangely he looked so fucking handsome, especially in his gray sweats that — you scanned him from top to bottom, and you can almost see the definition of his crotch through the lining. he was big.

You can almost bet the pink of his lips was so soft to touch, and plush to suck — what the fuck were you thinking.

Smirking when he caught your gaze on his lips for a second too long, he drew even closer. reaching down to grab your wrists to grip around the collar of his shirt, licking his lips while he challenged, “It’s your lucky day, Princess. Try me.”

Starting is always the hardest, the rest is easy.

you wanted to kiss him, badly. clenching onto his shirt with a million thoughts spiraling through your head, mentally cursing him with every possible word you knew. Everything soon became quiet the second your eyes zoomed in on him licking his lips — it was absolutely perfect — glossy with a perfect shade of pink that seduced you into agony.

So without thinking, your lips go crashing onto his. The harsh breathing through your nose sounds impatient and gruff. Kissing him, with teeth clashing and tongues fighting for dominance, Satoru immediately reciprocated by pulling you up to his firm lap.

“You wanna fuck me so bad, don’t you,” he panted in between kisses while his hand sneakingly ventured under your clothes to unclasp your bra and while the other pushed its way into your pants, harshly groping onto your soft ass.

Despite the tease in his voice, the quick speed of his hands curiously touching every inch of your body, groping and clawing, showed otherwise but leisure.

“you started it,” groaning as you threw your head back, allowing his lips to peck kisses on your skin and for his tongue to trace up to your chin.

“You’re so honest when you’re needy,” he chuckles, “practically fucking me with your eyes.” Satoru always had a way with his words. He always irritatingly managed to get under your skin, as if he had an encyclopedia written on how to annoy you, he was practically an expert at it by now.

Normally you would scoff at his ego, and throw in curses just for some flavor. But you fell silent, pussy suddenly clenching on the air when you took a peek at Satoru, easily pulling off his shirt with one hand. His warm body was draped in a perfect muscle tone while he molded your breasts to his palm, his mouth sucking on your nipple, tongue tenderly swirling around your areola.

“ngh shut up!” you rasped, “you’re so full of yourself.”

“Hmm,” he sounded pretty humming in response. Using his lips as a decoy to distract where his fingers were trekking towards, he pulled your panties off to the side to slip his slender fingers to touch your pussy — throbbing, warm, and laughably wet.

“let’s see,” groaning when he feels the warmth of your core, and your viscous juice coat his fingers. He swears that’s enough for him to cum in his pants but with all the willpower he had, he didn't — he couldn't until he's at least fucked you a couple rounds and has gotten a taste of your pussy — he lowly chuckled, “where you’re weak, princess.”

you gasped out a quiet, “fuck mhm, right there ‘Toru — j-just like that — please,” while tugging onto his hair, the hiss through his teeth sounding so melodic to your ears.

With your fingers harshly entangled in his hair, you tried to register how this all happened. Your clothes were one by one thrown onto the cold floor, with Satoru now shirtless as he littered your bosom with tender kisses, holding you behind your curved waist while you pressed your chest further into his mouth, to feel the gratification of his warm tongue sucking on your nipple.

As his fingers stroked up and down your folds, the lewd noises of your erection squelched loudly while his mildly calloused fingers rendered pleasurable friction to your clit — a new, profound sensation you’ve never felt before, especially not with your fingers or even your most reliable toys.

And it felt good — so fucking good.

“you’re so soft,” he pulled out a groan deep in his throat, “hold onto me,” he ordered, his tongue trailing up your chest while he switched positions to have you lie on the bench.

Quickly pulling out his hand from touching your cunt, to strip you from your pants and throw them off to the side, he smirks when he hears a subtle whine subconsciously release.

“No — ’Toru please —”

That's all he needs to hear. Satoru doesn’t waste a second before he’s crawling between your legs and meeting your dripping pussy.

it’s wet—so wet, he can see it through your damp panties. He almost wants to chuckle and tease you a bit. call you out on your ego, but the ache that shoots down to his cock, painfully throbbing in his briefs, banging to be freed, reminds him that he’s in no position to tease you when he’s not faring any better himself — probably worse and much more needy, desperately wanting, than you can imagine.

“I got you,” he huffed, pressing a tender kiss on your knees before spreading out your legs to settle in between them, his eyes soaking up every inch of your pussy to have it practically memorized, “I just wanna see you a bit.”

Pulling up your panties and seeing your puffy folds perfectly enveloping the fabric made his cock twitch, forcing his hips to push his hardened bulge against your needy core while a tantalizing, static pulse ripped through his body.

The thick padding of his finger pushes against your flesh. And if there was a pageant for the prettiest cunt, Satoru was goddamn sure you would win. especially with how your pussy softly recoiled every time he poked your wet flesh, simultaneously eliciting an even prettier, desperate moan.

“god you’re fucking wet,” Satoru purred as he played with just how thick your juices strung onto his fingers, “prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen,” he delightfully praised under a solemn breath.

“Satoru,” you gasp in embarrassment, hands reaching for his hair and tugging him closer to where you need him most.

So what better way is there than to play his own game — to tease and have him be the one yearning, begging at his feet.

“Yea?” gaining a bit of your conscience to lean your weight on your elbows, instead of needly lying on the bench, expecting Satoru to do something — anything, fast, “you’ve seen other pussies? Thought you were a virgin,” you teased while looking down at Satoru, pushing his bangs away from his eyes — his white hair a mess, cheeks heated and eyes dark and dilated.

but, it’s his game. no one knows the rules better than he does.

So instead of your expected reaction, Satoru chuckles, and takes his time to spread your folds open with his thumbs, blowing air while he watches in wonder as you flutter around nothing. your hole pulsates in desire as arousal drips and leaves you into a burning mess.

It’s perfect—you’re perfect, everything about you is what he’s dreamed of — no, it’s better, far better than what he's fucked his fist to all this time.

“Cute, you think so highly of me,” he snorted, unfazed by your mockery, eyes still focused on your pussy, “but you can see for yourself —” Satoru fastly pulled you down, causing you to yelp in shock at how strong he was. his face was now dangerously close to your leaking core, fingers delicately spreading out your folds, to uncurtain your pulsing hole and clit, contently smiling in adoration.

“—if I’m a virgin or not.”

“do you even know where the cli— oh my god,” you sobbed, the heaves of your chest becoming greater the moment you feel Satoru suck on your hardened bud, the plush of your thighs pushing against his head, curving your back as you pulled onto his hair, breathless from how he, too, was desperately eating you out.

it’s jaw dropping hot when his veins bulge and Adam’s apple bob while he gulps down thick saliva mixed with your sweet cum down his dry throat, his palm presses down your stomach to keep you pinned from squirming away.

he hears you and feels that you want him to. so he works, he works till his forearms burn and his biceps beautifully flex every time he fucks his finger into you, completely stretching you out, expertly adding more of his fingers to see your tight rim around his fingers clench in needy desire.

It doesn’t take him long to make you cum. Perfectly in tandem with the pressure of his mouth sucking your clit, to the rhythm of his finger inching deep within to find your sweet spots, guess, it’s not a surprise it takes him less than two minutes to locate it and another minute for you to be gushing. Quivering in his reign, the pleasure overwhelming as you came in his mouth— it’s almost painful how euphoric it felt.

Sucking and lapping every last bit of you while steadily pulsing his fingers in and out as you slowly came down from your climax, it wouldn’t be Gojo Satoru if he didn’t get the last word.

Letting go of your abused pussy with a soft kiss to your clit, his lips down to his chin were drenched, glistening, and dripping with your cum.

“You were saying?” he grinned.

Two hours thereafter, that day, Gojo Satoru performed a career-high of scoring seven goals.

Day of finals, thirty seconds till the game starts —

“Nanami,” throwing his arm around his Kohai, "I always knew you would be most fitting for this position,” a gentle voice welcomed himself.

“Geto-san,” Nanami's voice was emotionless, “you’re more than welcome to come and take it back,” the junior sarcastically jibed.

“Me? Don’t know if Satoru —”

“Get away from him, Suguru,” Tokyo’s team captain cut the rival off, “the game’s about to start, Nanami.”

Suguru shrugs while Nanami swiftly strides to his position as right-wing, carefully watching the scene behind Gojo’s back.

“Satoru!” The raven-haired now standing in front of Tokyo’s center amicably called out, eyes forming a crescent behind the thick black and white helmet, “long time no see.”

Satoru was straight to the point, desperate, “why’d you leave…?”

“No hello? My… Satoru,” the other chuckled while he comfortably situated his stick, next to the puck while both teams waited for the starting bell to ring, “where have your manners gone.”

“are those rumors true?” Satoru asked while lowering his stance, preparing himself to get the first puck to start the game.

“The rumors?” Suguru questioned, a slight twitch of his lips giving away his faux innocence, “Oh —” scoffing while reciprocating Satoru’s actions, “Ahh, the one about me being a traitor?”

“Suguru, I know you. Tell me the tru —”

A loud buzz echoes in the stadium, Satoru’s words falling blank under the blaring cheers of the fans.

“Taking the lead —” the announcer reported live through the blaring amplifier.

“Guess, we’ll both have to see how much you know me, Satoru,” Suguru swiftly stated in the milliseconds of passing Satoru, speedily making his way for the opponent’s goal.

“— ladies and gentleman, has the Tokyo Trailblazers finally found their match? The Kyoto Spartans will take the lead with player Geto Suguru setting the pace!”

The second period, five minutes till the buzzer for intermission —

Tokyo (3): Kyoto (3)

Grunting as he pushed his way through the defense, despite the chaos of the stadium, he could hear the familiar crisp sound of skates closely behind him, “I heard you’re finally sleeping with her,” Suguru smirked, now skating parallel to Satoru.

“Shut the fuck up,” Satoru grunted, making every effort to keep pushing for the offense, expertly navigating through the rink while juggling the puck past the opposing team, quickly passing the biscuit to Nanami, “it’s none of your damn business,” Satoru hissed out.

“You're scared that she might not like you? ” Suguru breathed behind his ear, “when that’s all you’ve been painfully doing till now?”

Wrong, Suguru couldn’t be more far from it.

Because since the beginning, for him, noncontingent of your response to him, it’s always been you.

And outside being the gifted athlete who’s endowed with greatness, with you, Satoru had two personas.

the one that desperately fucked you.

Crashing into the lockers, the impact of your back being further pushed onto the cold medal sent shivers down your body with every desperate thrust of his cock into you. It was awfully dangerous to moan out of his name, let alone to even breathe when his teammates were just outside the door.

“Shh, be a good girl,” he grunts while slowly fucking his cock out of you, only to ram it back in with even greater force, while his hand simultaneously covers your mouth, “don’t want people to hear you getting fucked, do we?”

Muffling your moans with his palm, his cock relentlessly pistols in without any leisure to be accommodating to your aching core. His breathing becomes more hitched as his thrusts become more languid to press deeper — his length reaching as far in as it can go — it would be an understatement if you weren’t scared that he could practically rip you in half in this position.

You grab him. and your nails dig deeply into his back, marking his skin with angry scratches of crimson red. maybe he was a masochist, but the pain of your nails coloring his back was nothing compared to the pleasurable satisfaction he got when your gummy walls suffocated his cock.

Kicking out his teammates, only to fuck behind their backs as they cluelessly started on their warmups before a game was routine.

He’s memorized every inch of your body, studied where it makes you writhe, tremble, and immediately latch onto him for your dear life while he helps you reach your high.

And right now, he knew. He can feel it in the way you’re clenching down on him that you were close. Not that he had any idle leisure of his own, but just enough to pump his cock feverishly into you, bullying past your abused hole as he lavished in the melodic symphony of his balls slapping against your cunt.

He has you folded against the wall, his arms holding you up and hitched under your thighs while he mercilessly fucked you. The burning in his muscles and the strain he felt in his body was nothing comparable to the heaven he was experiencing with your powerless stance under him while his hips snapped forward, his cock dominating your insides with his hand covered in your drool.

“—Toru please” you tried yelling, only for your voice to fall faint each time he rutted inside you, his cock completely disappearing in your body only to magically reappear to stretch you out again and burrow its length deeply within.

“angel,” he taunted, his breath fanning against your heated face, causing your eyes to swell up in tears when your eyes linked with his, briefly opening up his hand to allow you to breathe, “you gonna be quiet?”

You softly nodded, your insides clenching to stop the weird pressure that was building up inside, “it feels weird here, Toru — ahh it’s too much!” you whimpered, touching your tummy while your body ricocheted from his force.

“Yea? Then cum for me princess, I know you’re close,” he growls into your ear, his hot breath making it even more difficult to breathe, “you’re such a good girl taking my cock so well,” he praised, groaning when he immediately felt you throbbing around him in response.

The moment you see stars and your mind fall blank is when thick ropes of cum shoot inside you. you can almost feel the individual splurge of his hot seeds coating your walls, with every desperate thrust he made to completely milk out his cock, his tip throbbing while he grunted with pleasure.

“I fucking love —” he rasped out, face nuzzled into the cave of your neck. it was difficult to mesh out his last word from his harsh panting to catch his breath as he felt the lumps of his cum squeeze past his member, still inside you, splattering onto the floor with a warm trail of liquid gushing down his thighs.

“good luck today,” you whispered.

Luck? he didn't need.

But you? he absolutely, detrimentally did.

Or, the latter.

The one that, still, fucked you — because he loved you, like a lover.

With the days that surpassed as being his friend — with benefit — the more he’s taken a place in your life. It started with freely coming over after practice — fucking, despite not having a game the day after. Your bathrooms would naturally have another towel hung, and an extra toothbrush would stand next to each other.

Groceries were always Satoru’s duty, while you stocked up on the self-care necessities. Satoru particularly loved getting a facial with you with all the high-end masks and oils, cuddling under the blanket while you both watched cringy romcoms.

But it was undeniably his personal favorite when he could give you a facial with his cum splattered onto your face — it’s beautiful seeing you covered with his seeds. Or when his face is drenched in your sweet juice, despite his lungs desperate for air he immediately pushes you further down to sit on his face when he catches you trying to move away.

It’s become a ritual. you've become his religion.

He comes at exactly 8:47 P.M. And you wait for him.

The key to your door opens at the exact time.

He grins when you walk up to greet him.

“Waited for me?” he softly cooed, placing his index finger under your chin, his lips onto yours while sucking gently before pulling away, a string of saliva connecting you both, but quickly snapping when he brushes his thumb across your cheeks.

If the universe orbited around you, he was your centripetal force.

“So pretty,” he praised while looking into your eyes, breathless as if he could be absorbed into it.

“I have food —”

"Later,” he abruptly cuts you off, pulling you close to his body, ”but, I think —” humming with his lips barely brushing against your cheeks, his hand squishing them together as he confesses.

“— I'm gonna fuck you so hard,” his voice was unusually sweet for saying something so crude, “that you won't even be able to see out of those pretty little things."

You softly gasped, flustered and unsure of how to respond to such a comment. Instead, you roll your eyes as your hands find the back of his head to pull him into another kiss, moaning into his mouth as he grinds the throbbing erection in his sweats over your heated core.

His hands roam around your body, particularly groping your ass before his fingers tug at the waistband of your shorts — his favorite ones that always managed to get him bricked up.

"No panties, huh?" He states with amusement, "Aren’t you a bad kitty acting all coy,” he chuckles.

"Shut up," you retort, your cheeks feeling hot under the pressure.

“You don’t want it?” he rebuttals, taking a step back as if there was even a choice.

It’s infuriating how much power he had over you, enticing you in his grip as you mindlessly frolicked in his palm. And it doesn’t help that he looks… well… he looks gorgeous, dangerously handsome — especially with his hair mildly wet, and his warm body fragrant with cologne and body wash.

“I said,” wrapping your arms around him, further pulling him by the neck — so close that you can feel the tent that’s bulging under his sweats and the desperation that overflows in his visage while he angles his lips to perfectly match yours, “fuck me.”

“That’s more like it,” he murmurs before kissing you — it’s feverish and wanton, the type that makes you weak in your knees and your core to burn up in flames.

His steps immediately guide you to your bedroom, groaning and grunting while clothes are being stripped off one by one, leaving a trail of evidence with no intent of stopping the kiss.

Your feet knock against the foot of the bed, his signal to push you onto the mattress, abruptly ending the kiss as he looks down at your flustered expression with a smirk on his lips.

Relishing in your gaze, Satoru strips in front of you. Pulling his shirt over his shoulders with one hand, he flexes his stomach and takes his time to get naked.

He knows you'll look — you always do. Outside of being an athlete, what was the purpose of hitting the gym? To catch you lusting after him. He can practically see your mind racing with thoughts, and he couldn't wait to show that he's better than what your silly, pretty, little brain could ever imagine him doing to you.

Examining him from top to bottom, propped up on your elbows, you absorbed the sight of his smooth, toned chest as he stripped, the dentures of his muscles beautifully sculpted down from his chest to the crisp lining of hip dents that led to his crotch.

Leaning over, his body caging you with his toned arms, he gently places a kiss on your forehead, “like what you see?” he chuckles, “I’m pretty sexy, right?”.

"what the fuck?" you suddenly gasped.

“what?!” he whines — you can see his hair practically deflate.

Brushing your fingers over his chest, running your hand down to his abs, it’s smooth and toned. “thought your nipples would be pink,” you snorted, pinching his nipples.

He flinches at the pain, "it’s a brownish pink, for your information," He states, pouting, “and you’ve only noticed it now after how many times you’ve seen me naked?”

"I’m joking, stupid," You laughed, the melodic tune of your joy ringing in his ears like a constant melody.

“but I’m pretty right?” he pouts, biting your shoulders and softly kissing his denture marks.

“Yea sure whatever,” you breathe out, throwing your head back as he now kisses up your neck, your heart just about to burst out of your chest.

"Let's get this off, hm?" Satoru kindly asks while tugging on the bra strap.

Obediently nodding, you raise your arms like a kid, and he pulls it off over your head. And unlike the trail of clothes you’ve both left behind, he manages your garment with care — especially after the last one he “accidentally” ripped.

His hands rest on your stomach, fingers stroking every curve before he brings them up to cup your boobs, pushing up your breast to squish it softly.

“Feel good?” he asks, watching your expression slowly unfold in bliss.

And before you know it, he's dragged his hands down to your thigh, his fingertips softly grazing slowly to your panties, getting dangerously close to womanhood.

"Tell me how much you want me to touch you," He whispers, and in response you shove your fingers into his hair, gripping tightly.

The light callous of his fingertips trail over your clothed clit, gently stroking the base with his fingers, feeling your panties slowly becoming more damp with each touch.

Further opening up your legs, allowing him full access, he immediately takes the offer and ventures further along. situating himself in between your thighs to pull your panties off, kissing your hardened bud while peering up to see you touching your breasts, it’s a sweet sight to see for Satoru — breathless — while you longingly waited for him to just hurry the fuck up.

“god, you’re soaked,” he groans, chuckling as he murmurs, “That’s fuckin’ cute.”

"Right there-" you whisper, and he nods, dragging his fingers along, slowly moving them around to stimulate you as he sucked on your clit, taking his time to prep you

“You still didn’t —” The vibration of his voice further stimulates your needy pussy, gasping as you curve your back, desperately reaching for more of his perfect stimuli, “answer my question,” he states.

"Don't piss me off," you groan, pushing his face back into its rightful place.

"Goddamn," He mutters, the grip of his hand on your thighs becoming harsher, and the stuck of his mouth further fueled fire to your core.

"I don't know how much longer I can wait when you treat me like that," he grunts while standing up again, simultaneously pushing down his pants and briefs, wasting no time as he wiggles out of his sweats.

You can see his dick is hard, twitching as it greets you.

He exhales heavily, stroking his length as he situates his head to brush over your pussy. He’s seen it countless times, but will never get enough of measuring just how far he can settle inside you. The sweet plush of your tummy offers more cushion and excitement as he watches you hitch up your hips, impatiently waiting for him.

"aren't you excited?" Gojo says with a grin, using his thumb to rub circles around your clit, guiding himself past your folds, purposefully missing your entrance to coat himself with your natural lubricant.

He doesn’t even wait for your answer, and wastes no time pushing himself in, pulling out a whimpered groan, allowing your walls to open up and welcome his entrance.

He picks up his pace, rhythmic and balanced while sliding his hands under your hips to lift you up slightly to make sure his entire length can fit inside.

"You're so tight.” Satoru grunts with a furrow in his brows as he dug his nails into your ass. hissing through his teeth while he continued to fuck through your tight hole, “You don't make this easy for me, do you?" He mocks, his grip tightening on your hips as he pulls you forward, your naked breasts bouncing with every impact.

You close your eyes, feeling every inch of his cock inside you. The slight tickle of his trimmed pubic hair brush against your clit as he slowly starts to roll his hips.

"You're so —" You whined, concentrating on keeping your sanity every time his tip painfully brushed back your sweet spot, "ngh — lazy!"

"Lazy, huh?" he scoffed, licking his lips like a predator locked in on his prey.

“ahh!” you yelped. within seconds you immediately find yourself on your stomach with Satoru’s weight crushing you from above. flipping you over without notice, wrapping a hand under your jaw as he turned your face towards him to deeply kiss, his feet harshly spreading and locking your thighs apart while his cock rammed into you, his balls splattering your wetness with each thrust.

"Maybe I won’t be so lazy if you become my girlfriend,” He states with a smirk, “just give in angel, you like my cock.”

“fuck — ‘Toru! slow d-down” you managed to cry out his name, his cock mercilessly thrusting into you, “you have n-no,” by now you were a babbling mess at how good he was fucking you, drooling with your lungs burning inside your ribs, “game tomorrow.”

“boo you’re boring,” He provokes, pushing his hand under your stomach to pull you on all fours, “never answering my questions.“

It doesn't take long for Gojo to adjust himself behind you. especially since your dripping cunt made it so for him to slide through every time. but it takes moments for you to readjust to him — every new position meant greater access for his cock to rearrange your insides.

“but this pussy will always be my good luck charm.”

It's almost as if you can feel his smirk as he grabs your hips, and begins to roughly pound into you in doggy.

"Look who’s lazy, c'mon, keep hips up, angel," He effortlessly teases, spanking your ass and firmly gripping onto the pulsing flesh.

"S-shut up, asshole,” you hissed, putting your head down on your arms for more leverage — it’s shocking how you’re not flying onto your headboard from the force of him thrusting into you.

"That's rich considering your asshole is right in front of me.” he chuckles, spreading open your cheeks to see your other hole pulsing on top of the one he was currently fucking, the rim barely withholding his girth, “ wanna try anal? it’s pretty, by the way."

"D-do you ever shut up?" You complain, reaching over to grab your pillow to muffle your moans. but in that split second, Satoru catches your wrists and pulls you backward, your back heavily arching and breasts rapidly bouncing in all directions, mimicking the robust thrusts of his cock pistoling into you.

“how can I, when you look so pretty,” his thrusts become more aggressive, “getting” thrust, he watches you crumble, face contorting in pleasure, he can tell you’re close, “fucked? thrust “by” he quickly catches your hand trying to reach down to stimulate your clit, “my” deeply pushing in, further splitting you open in half, the tip of his member knocking against womb, “cock.”

“too much…ahhh—wait! ‘Toru!” The bed violently shook as he drove his cock, balls slapping your wet pussy as your legs trembled with warm liquid dripping down from your thighs, slowly pooling onto the sheets.

“just say it, princess, you love me,” he growls, thrusting more as he nibbles on your lobes, pleasurable tears sliding down your cheeks as you instead gasp out his name.

“at least your pussy is honest.”

---

“I’m not here to talk, Suguru, get the fuck out of my way,” Satoru growled while pushing the other off.

“Don’t tell me, you still got no pussy to ask her out, Satoru,” the raven hair taunted.

“Nanami!” Satoru called out noticing his wing’s position wide open to shoot for a goal. It was apparent in the way Satoru briefly lost his balance, his composure starting to chip away from the strain of his muscles that he was getting exhausted — a feat Satoru would normally never struggle with until the last couple minutes of the game.

But speedily passing by and braking with thick shaving of ice spraying from the sudden stop, intercepting the puck when Nanami passes — a gameplay Suguru’s practiced countless times with Satoru — the Kyoto’s center was now in possession of the puck, taking no moment to rest before charging the opposite direction.

In those split seconds, Suguru jeered, “wasn't this our favorite play?”

“Fuck!” Satoru muttered under his breath, quickly changing momentum to skate the opposite way.

And just before the buzzer goes off, Suguru easily angles his stick to chip the puck, the force of the impact causing the biscuit to shoot straight into the net.

Satoru huffs just meters away, dumbfounded at how much Suguru’s improved and curated his craft. A force he once relied upon and leaned on, trained tooth and nail while shedding blood, sweat, and tears together since fourteen now has become a thorn to his side that contrived to bring him down, Suguru bypasses his once best friend, standing in shock.

“are you still in denial, or have I answered your question about who’s the traitor, Satoru?”

Tokyo (4): Kyoto (5)

Intermission before the third, final period —

A tie (6:6)

It was the longest eighteen minutes of your life. no one dared to even speak. Through the chatter and vibrancy of the stadium, only the heavy huffs and gulping of electrolytes of the players were heard. Even Yaga-Sensei just sat there, brows furrowed with his thick arms crossed over his chest.

And Satoru, too, silently sat on the bench, leaning on his elbows parched to his thighs, manspreading with a towel thrown over his head. The heat of his body contrasted with the gelid stadium had faint white smoke radiating from his expended body.

“Satoru,” you gently called out while handing out a fresh towel for him to use, “you’re going to catch a cold.”

“Don’t need it,” he dully murmured without taking a second to raise his head to acknowledge you.

“I —,” Yaga Sensei grasped hold of your shoulder to stop you from saying anything regretful that would further disturb him. Biting your tongue, you sighed, “Sure.”

The cold response of someone who literally just rearranged your guts so wantonly before the game, sharing an intimacy with him throughout the years that bloomed into something more than what you’d like to acknowledge than simply being a friend with benefit caused both frustration and helplessness to boil within you for not being unable to help him.

Not like he needed your help, nor did he ever ask. But from time to time, you wished he would let down his burdens with you, and allow you to carry his weight for a while.

Only once has he ever shown you his emotional side. The infamous night when Satoru received the news of Suguru’s departure, you found him drunk in front of your apartment waiting for god knows how long.

all you could remember was that the night was awfully cold for someone to have a broken heart.

That night, despite no words being said, the comfort of your arms and the warmth of your skin helped him to sleep despite the storm that raged in his mind.

It was understandable his mood. Normally he wouldn’t be so emotionally invested in a game, even if he had lost. During intermissions, he would either be chatting up a storm, blowing your ear off about all the plays he’s made and if you’ve finally fallen in love with him. Or, two, he’ll be listening to you nagging at him to not go throwing his opponents against the wall while wrestling for the puck.

Hockey was aggressive, but it was also an athlete’s duty to learn how to play smart and do their best to abstain from injuries that could potentially harm their career — especially, if the athlete in question is one preparing for his national debut to representing Japan in the Winter Olympics the following year.

Awkwardly, eyeing your expression, Haibara laughed while scratching the back of his head, cheerfully asking, “I would like a new one, mine’s a little damp.”

“Me too,” his blonded friend chimed in, his voice not as enthusiastic as Haibara’s.

Smiling in appreciation, you lent them a towel and extended the care to the other players as well.

“Why’d you give him the steal?” Sensei bluntly asked, looking at the rink while sternly watching Suguru make his way onto the field. His ex-disciple gave his old coach his respects with a little bow when he caught his gaze.

“Are you seriously asking me that right now?” Satoru numbly stated, the clenching of his fists reflecting his true emotions.

“You know what to do,” Yaga-Sensei firmly stated, pushing his sunglasses up his thick nose, wasting no time before the buzzer rang again to redirect his player, “you know him better than anyone else, trust your instincts.”

Twelve minutes till game —

The crowd roars. Currently in the last period, with a couple more minutes on the clock to crown the final winner, both teams ferociously fought to control the game.

The pluck clicks with each hit against the blade. Speedily sliding against the ice it was almost difficult to see it on the field.

Currently, in possession, Nanami pushed forward, putting pressure on Kyoto’s defense as Haibara simultaneously rushed to the other side, leaving Satoru wide open for a pass. Nanami prepares to hit a pass over to his captain, hitching the puck in the air for a quicker velocity towards Satoru, who’s ready to receive —

The glass walls tremble on impact. Flinching at the loud noise, your eyes widen when you see it unfold in slow motion. Both bodies harshly collided against the wall with Satoru getting sandwiched between two forces. expelling out a groan as he slid down the wall, with puffs of white smoke spewing from his lips with each harsh huff of his chest.

“Seems like a brawl has occurred between the two captains!”

“And from the looks of it, Gojo Satoru is struggling to get back on his feet!”

“No,” you muttered under your breath, face paling and body going cold despite the adrenaline pumping through your blood, you pushed your way through the audience to get to where he was.

Your mind felt like a minefield. With bombs ticking, threatening to explode with each step you took. Nauseous from the anxiety, it was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe as if there was a ball stuck in your throat. And despite the efforts to try and stay calm, it was rather difficult when your thoughts replayed the countless other injuries Satoru sustained during your time as his manager.

“He’s going to have to take at least 8 to 10 weeks off for his fracture to heal.” The emergency physician stated, pointing at the small crack on his right clavicle.

“He probably won’t listen,” Sensei remarked, crossing his arms while letting out a deep sigh, “is there any way he can recover faster?”

“It’s fine guys —” Satoru tried playing it off.

“Shut up,” you and Sensei simultaneously interjected, scolding him to be quiet as if he were a child.

Clearing his throat, “As I was saying, it must’ve been painful for him to have played in this state, I imagine this was an ongoing injury he’s sustained in the past,” the doctor murmured while further analyzing the film.

You immediately shot daggers at him, glaring when the doctor unintentionally outed Satoru’s injury he’s been keeping a secret. Flinching, Satoru slowly sank further into his bed, covering his face with his blanket.

“Though, being diligent with his PT and fully resting his body for at least six weeks will be the fastest route for recovery.”

But, well… it doesn’t take more than five weeks for you to get a text from Suguru.

From: Suguru

Don’t get mad…

To: Suguru

You saying this makes me already mad. What happened?

From: Suguru

Just bring some icepacks and some sweets and head over to Satoru’s place.

To: Suguru

I swear to god if you guys play —

From: Suguru

... it's his fault.

And it doesn’t take you more than thirty minutes to be blowing up his doorbell, knocking on his door at exactly 12:34 A.M. with an ice cooler with icepacks and a bag full of his favorite candy.

Thud!

“Fuck… ow that hurt.” You heard a muffled voice through the door.

“It’s me.” You curtly announced.

Quickly opening the door, his elbow leaning against the door with an insouciant tone to his voice, he cracked a boyish smile, “Ah, isn’t this my favorite person. What brings you here?”

“I told you not to —” Rage bubbled up inside you as you glared at him.

“Okay!” Nervously holding up his hands, doing his best to calm you down, “before you get mad —”

“I’m already mad, Satoru —”

“Okay! Fine! Before you get even madder,” taking the heavy loads off your shoulders, settling them onto the floor, his warm hands cup your face, “it’s really nothing big. Just feels a little strained that’s all,” he tried to reassure when he sees you about to object.

“Really, I’m fine,” his eyes urged you to trust him, “I just… missed being on the rink, that’s all.”

Your eyes soften when you see the little sulk on his lip, and notice how he’s lost a little weight in his cheeks. Quickly letting out a deep sigh through your nose, you mumbled out, “I’ll be the one to decide if you’re fine or not.”

---

“Take your shirt off.” You ordered, firmly holding onto the hem of his white shirt while saddling on his thighs.

“Oh wow.” he placed his hands on his chest, acting innocent from your forwardness.

“Satoru, take your shirt off,” you grumbled, pulling at his shirt and rolling your eyes when it was easily removed, despite him acting naive, again his hands covered his bare chest — just managing to barely cover his sculpted pectorals.

“It’s really nothing,” he blushed, awkwardly looking off to the side with a guilty smile.

“Satoru you just took off your sleeve,” you murmured, placing an ice pack on his collarbone, your voice filled with worry.

“I’m really fine, baby,” he loosened up after seeing the cute pout on your lips, your brows faintly furrowed as your fingers ever so lightly iced his injury.

“I’m not your baby,” you stated with a glare, clearly not impressed with his defiance to go against his doctor’s orders, “I don’t date people that don’t listen to me,” you said without much thought while tending to his bruised clavicle.

“Oh —” his ears perked at hearing your words.

Fuck.

“Wait! What I meant was —”

It was evident that he was trying to contain his smile from the way he bit his lips. “You so wanna date me don’t you?”

---

It’s not a surprise how you ended up in this position.

It started off with a light kiss, lips softly meshing with each other with light teasing of tongue — he swore, it’ll be just one kiss.

Soon enough hands start to idly move on their own accord, groping areas, and massaging places that wouldn’t particularly follow with just one kiss, leaving you both simultaneously panting and yearning for more.

And then you’re grinding on his throbbing cock, spit slightly leaking from the edge of your mouths while tongues feverishly fought for dominance, naked with your pussy pulsing and dripping in need to swaddle and engulf him whole.

Progressing forward, you’re slowly sinking onto his length, bottoming out with your ass seated on his thighs, foreheads linked while you both took a minute to adjust to one another. like an unspoken language, you both solemnly breathed, that even if the world crashed around you both, nothing would matter because the other was there.

He’ll cum.

It’s beautiful how he does it. And in moments like these, you can’t deny that the man who’s chasing after his high under you was the man you loved.

With his mouth gaping open, his white brows furrow as he gasps for air while his large hands grip your bum, spreading out your cheeks for easier access through your hole. He desperately thrusts into you, unrhythmic and hips helpless from the warm seduction your plush walls have over him. His seeds shoot straight to your womb, filling you entirely with pulps of his cum leaking through your cunt. And it takes him a couple seconds to breathe as he rides out his high.

And then you’ll be sandwiched in between the sofa and his heavy body, his cock rummaging inside, amplifying the sound of his member shoved through your dripping cunt. It’s loud and sloppy the way he fucks into you. Wanton and bashful in the way his muscles tighten in tandem with you clenching down when his head hits just the right spot.

Your legs immediately wrap around his hips, securing him down to fuck you in that position. And he doesn’t retaliate from the limited position, instead, he welcomes it. With his face burrowed into the curve of your neck, his palms pushing your thighs to your chest— biting, clawing, scratching, and licking — doing whatever it takes for you to rectify the burning ache in between your thighs, and for him to release his seeds into you again — again, and again, and again.

“—toru! please,” you cried out and in your plea, he answered, “I’m right here,” Satoru groaned, “Keep up with me — fuck, I swear, jus’ a little more.”

Tightly wrapping his arms around you, his face nuzzled closely to your ear. Despite him already being inches deep within you, his every grunt and pant, the desperate moans he releases while he states your name, mixed with delirious curses has you craving for more.

With his mind hypnotized from the pleasure of his cock rummaging your insides, swaddled in care despite his cock bullying past your folds, he becomes possessive and carnal.

“This is mine,” he harshly bites your shoulders, pleased when you yelp while simultaneously tightening your reign on his cock burrowed within your walls, “all mine. You’re fucking mine,” he proclaimed.

“ — ‘Toru please keep going fuck right there!” you sobbed, cheeks stained with euphoric tears.

“Just say you want it,” he growls muffled with his lips smashed with yours, “tell me you want me.”

“yes, I want it. I want it so, so bad — need you so bad ‘Toru!” you mewled, letting out a soft whimper, feeling the vibrations of his grunts, pulses of ecstasy pulsing through your veins and straight to your core as you succumbed all authority and control for him to do whatever he desired.

“Fuck fuck fuckkkkkk.” he curses when he hears your words. Like a broken record, it echoes in his brain, with every release of his cum, his breath hitching and body vibrating as he finally reached his climax.

The voice of you calling out his name so dearly repeats so melodically in his ears.

Soon, the room once filled with the savage slapping of wet skin and immoral use of dirty curses of pleasure while you both partook in unholy matrimony was now filled with a thick smell of post-sex pheromones, coupled with softened breaths and sweet hums of foolish lovers.

“Be careful,” you softly mumbled, under him, while your hands lightly weaved through his damp hair. you placed a soft kiss on his bruised collar, his pale skin accentuated the blue-green tint, making it look far worse than it was.

“aw, you worried for me? I’m so touched,” he faked a sob as he pulled you tighter into his arms, mumbling while he lavished in your warmth.

“I still didn’t forgive you,” you lightly pulled on his hair. his eyes were droopy and his body felt even more heavy over your limp one.

“Yea?” he hummed closer to your lips, gently kissing you while slowly grinding his hips to your wet core, “thought your harder harder ‘Toru harder was you forgiving me,” he lightly chuckled in between kisses.

“You’re the worst,” grumbling as you tightened your arms around his neck, snuggling closer to his warm body.

“Wow, you love me? I’m so touched,” Satoru softly chuckled, gently stroking your heated cheeks as he held you in his arms, he too, soaking in the warmth and feeling the beatings of your heart.

—

Your eyes focused on nothing but him despite the chaos around you — just a couple of steps from touching his slumped body,

A loud buzzer goes off, quieting your thoughts, the loud announcement ringing static in your ears.

“ Sustaining the blow, Gojo Satoru gets back on his feet again! He proves once again on the court he is The Honored One!”

Two minutes till game —

Head throbbing, and every inch of his body burning from the strain, Satoru vigilantly fought for control of the puck. Every second felt like an eternity, and every stride of his skates felt tortuous as if every fiber of his muscle were being torn apart.

Satoru quickly passes to Haibara, and fastidiously receives the puck again when he's open. Faking a move to juke out his opponent, Satoru was getting closer to Kyoto’s goal.

It was evident that fatigue was overwhelming each player on the court. With their voices hoarse, and sweat starting to sting their eyes, while puffs of smoke perspired with each agonizing breath causing their lungs to burn in their chest, no one was willing to back down.

Watching from the side while nervously biting your cheeks, you observed the game as Satoru flew through the rink. From the calmness of his eyes, and confidence in his strides, to the quickness of his feet and the gentle care to his game, things started to make sense.

For the man that obnoxiously barged into your life, ruining your pair of white shoes, to managing a spot in your heart, he sure made you fall — hard.

On one random afternoon while you watched him soundly sleep in your arms, lightly drooling as he mumbled something incoherent about some zunda and cream at Sendai Station — loving him came easily.

Because even if you tried running away, your feet would always end up back to him. And you knew the fire that you'll hold for him was going to burn, but you couldn’t resist the flame that he lit in your heart.

“With seconds to the clock, with Gojo Satoru’s lead, the Trailblazers are fighting desperately to win this game!”

Gojo Satoru — with him, it wasn’t exactly love at first sight, but it was something like that.

“The Spartans are putting up a ferocious fight, Geto Suguru tries to steal the puck but is unsuccessful! Ladies and Gentleman, Gojo Satoru goes for the goal —”

Satoru sped his way across, the white tint of his jersey barely recognizable with his speed. The crowd cheers, sirens blow off to the throne the victors of this year’s champions.

And currently, tears freely flowed down your cheeks. And you let them despite the blur as you rushed onto the rink, the soles of your shoes about to slip on the scratched ice.

Because the saddest word in the world is almost, and he was worth more than being dwindled down to a regretful almost.

And if you had to defy fate, and create your own ending, so be it. You’ll suffer the consequence of meddling with destiny, and amend for your sins, in the future, when you’re dead if that meant there was a guarantee to have him in the present.

Because in the world of almost 8 billion people, somehow your worlds are intertwined.

“Be careful!” He panicked, throwing off his helmet as he rapidly skated over to you, “You’re going to hurt yo—”

Grabbing holding of his jersey, you slammed your lips with his — with thousands in the audience, cameras obnoxiously flashing up the rink in all directions.

You won’t hear the end of it from Yaga-Sensei, he’s certainly, most definitely mad.

Your anonymity is fucked, and now everyone will know you as the ‘girl that kissed Gojo Satoru’ — probably will be trending on all socials for at least a week, and that's being generous.

Maybe you were delusional or so high off adrenaline that you didn’t notice the mayhem surrounding you — especially not Satoru’s shocked expression when you suddenly kissed him.

But your ignorant bliss was soon interrupted when you slightly opened your eyes and were met with a thousand flashing lights that almost blinded your vision.

“— oh my god!” you squealed, immediately embarrassed at what you just did, only for Satoru to quickly hide you in his embrace, your face nuzzled into his chest.

“Looks like I’m not the one that’ll get in trouble by Sensei time,” he teased with his cheek placed on top of your head.

“Get me out of here,” you whined, “I’m so embarrassed…”

“Nah” Satoru cheekily smiled, tightly embracing you, “not until you give me a date.”

“You didn’t make the last shot stupid, Nanami did.”

“False, I assisted,” he stated after briefly calling out for one of his teammates, “If you weren’t so lovestruck by my handsome face, and actually saw my brilliant performance, then you would’ve seen the phenomenal play I had with Nanami.”

“Satoruuuu,” you whined, lightly stomping on your feet, getting increasingly squirmish from all the mess you’ve created.

“Told you,” whispering into your ear, “I’ll always win,” he stated before pushing his helmet over your head, reaching down to hold your hand as he led you out of the rink. The confidence in his walk looked almost arrogant, with you helplessly following, as he made his way to the lockers — a routined celebration after a game now as your boyfriend —

“Because you're my lucky charm, babe.”

author's note: if you made it to the end, thank you. i didn't expect a silly thought to lead to my distress about creating another au for him. But nonetheless, I hope you've all enjoyed ◡̈

#ae.writes #jjk x reader #jjk smut #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #darkmode.

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saetoru · 9 months

Text

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。what’s mine is yours

synopsis. suguru is a good best friend—he shares everything. just this once, he shares you too

word count. 2.1k (it's short i promise)

contents. fem! reader, reader is suguru's girlfriend, minors do not interact, virgin satoru <3, cuckolding, fingering, safe sex (who am i ?? jk suguru would not let satoru hit raw lol), petnames (princess, baby, and sweetheart), suguru teaching satoru how to fuck <3

notes. dash pls look away. i am horny at 1 am

satoru, for all his big talk and loud front all these years, is still a virgin. suguru finds it a tad bit funny—but out of the kindness of his heart, he decides to help his best friend change that.

how? you, of course.

“be careful how you handle her,” suguru says with a sly smile, “she’s still my girlfriend—and i have to take care of her. isn’t that right, baby?” his gaze turns to you, finger stroking your cheek gently as you whimper.

“so wet,” satoru mumbles, fingers sinking curiously into your dripping cunt, flexing slowly to pump in and out of you as you whine. his fingers are long, maybe longer than suguru’s—but not nearly as skilled.

“yeah?” suguru chuckles, “bet you like that, huh? careful though, satoru—don’t get used to this. she’s still mine.”

suguru, the ever gracious best friend, has always been one to share. he decides perhaps he can extend the favor to include his girlfriend too—but you’re precious, sweet and kind and oh so doting. he can’t share you permanently. no, it’s a one time thing—after that, satoru will have to find his own perfect little pussy to savor.

“you really get all of this? all to yourself?” satoru marvels, thumbing your clit as you gasp, your hand reaching over to clutch at suguru’s pants. his hand rests over yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles as he hums soothingly.

“yeah,” your boyfriend grins, “every day. whenever i want. right, baby?”

“uh huh,” you nod—and then you cut yourself off with a squeal when satoru’s fingertips brush against that sweet spot deep within your walls, making you flutter around him with a tight squeeze. he doesn’t find it as easily as suguru, doesn’t know how to angle and curl the tips of his fingers when he sinks into you.

and fuck, satoru thinks, suguru is so damn lucky.

“she’s a vocal one,” he chuckles, “you’ve been living the dream.”

“you should hear her when you use your mouth,” suguru chuckles—how embarrassing. you want to crawl onto his lap and hide away in his neck, hide away from satoru’s eyes that are watching you so carefully. satoru has good eyes—the best, even.

but you also like it. for some reason, when his eyes stare down at you with a darkened shade of blue you’ve never seen before, you feel the slick pooling from your core, smearing down your thighs and glossing over his fingers, wetter than ever.

satoru has that effect on people—even if he is a bit inexperienced.

“do i get to do that too?” he asks, sending your boyfriend a lopsided smirk.

suguru raises a brow, tightening his hand’s grip on yours before grunting a low, “don’t get ahead of yourself, satoru.”

“you said it yourself, suguru,” he chuckles, “what’s mine is yours.”

“not her,” suguru growls. and then, sweetly, he turns to you before pecking your forehead with a gentleness he keeps for only you. “you ready, princess?”

“princess,” satoru repeats thoughtfully, “yeah i guess you’re a bit of a princess, aren’t ya?”

“p-please,” you sniffle, tugging on suguru’s wrist, “need more, sugu.”

“yeah? he’s not doing his job, is he?” suguru pouts in sympathy, but his eyes are laced with amusement—like he’s enjoying the show in front of him. you’re sure he is, if the throbbing erection he sports is of any hint.

“hey,” satoru gasps, wounded, “i’m doing exactly what you told me—”

“here,” suguru throws him a condom, cutting him off, “put that on. you’re out of your mind if you think you’re feeling her. that’s only for me.”

“fine,” satoru huffs. you watch as he rolls the condom over his neglected cock—it’s red, swollen and aching, flushed at the tip and drooling with pre cum as he hisses when his hand wraps around it.

it’s pretty, you’ll give him that. satoru isn’t as thick as suguru, but he makes up for it by being a bit longer. he curves a bit with a thick vein running along the underside of his cock, balls heavy as they hang painfully, achingly full. he’s neatly trimmed—messy white strands of hair unlike suguru’s dark ones. you don’t know which one you prefer, if you could even pick one of you had to.

you watch with wide, fascinated eyes as his mouth parts with a low gasp when he accidentally teases the tip a bit as he clumsily works the rubber over himself. he’s sensitive at the head—just like suguru. gives those sweet little breathy whimpers when his slit is thumbed at. it’s cute, you think, maybe not as cute as suguru—but it’s still pretty adorable.

“go slow when you go in,” suguru warns, “if you hurt her, i’ll kill you.”

“she’s tough, she can take it,” satoru pats your cheek with a sly grin, “aren’t you, princess?”

“watch it, satoru,” you hear suguru growl, “don’t get too comfortable.”

“aw, it’s all in good fun, right? she’s taking it so well.”

you do take it well—you let satoru’s fingers play with your for ages, let him learn where to find that sensitive spot is in the back of your walls, let him rub your clit slowly—even if you ache for those fast circles suguru always gifts you with. and now, you’re even letting him slide into you, slowly but surely, inching his hardened cock into your impatiently wet cunt with agonizing patience.

“that feel good, baby?” suguru asks you once satoru’s buried to the hilt, splitting you almost in two as you breathe unevenly and nod. and satoru? well, he’s not faring any better—grit teeth and clenched jaw, panting harshly as he focuses on not cumming right then and there.

you’re tight—way tighter than his hand, and way warmer too. fuck suguru for making him wear the condom, and fuck suguru for landing such a perfect pussy too. he doesn’t know how he’s meant to go back to using his fist after a taste of this.

“you can move now—go slow at first, and then go faster when she’s close. she likes that. and don’t forget this,” suguru’s hand travels to your clit, giving a soft little pat that makes you whimper before he rubs it with those quick circles you love so much. “she likes when you touch this too. they all do—so when you get yourself your own girl to fuck, make sure you remember that.”

“i know what the clit is,” satoru grumbles, “i’ve watched porn, y’know.”

“i bet,” suguru chuckles, “is this your first time seeing a clit in person? pretty, isn’t it? everything about her is pretty.”

“suguru,” you whine in embarrassment, burying your head back into the pillow as much as you can, “you talk so much.”

“baby,” he insists, “someone has to humble him. he’s all bark and no bite.”

“i can too bite,” satoru grunts—and to prove it, he angles his hips to pull out, almost completely, before thrusting back into you. you cry out—clutching suguru’s hand tightly as your tits bounce. satoru let’s out a choked moan, gasping as you squeeze around his sensitive cock, eyes fluttering shut with pleasure.

it’s so good. suguru has it so good. you’re so good—perfect, even.

“f-fuck, more, need more,” you sob, and because suguru can’t help himself, his hand grabs at your tit, pinching and tugging at your nipple as he lets you squeeze his other hand in yours. “please, please—faster.”

“you heard her,” suguru hums, “she needs it faster.”

satoru’s good at fucking you—for his first time, he’s got your back arching and toes curling rather quickly. the blunt head of his cock brushes against your sweet spot with ease, long and curved enough to nudge against it with every roll of his hips. of course, no one knows how to fuck you until you see stars like suguru—but he comes to a close second.

your gasps have turned into long, wanton moans, and satoru moans in sync, head falling next to yours on the pillow as his breath fans over your shoulder with every harsh pant. his hips are rutting into you, slamming desperately as he feels you squeeze around him with every deep thrust. you can hear the squelching sound of your arousal as he bullies into your dripping cunt, smeared along the insides of your thighs. it’s messy, it’s rushed, it’s desperate and it feels so, so good.

satoru has never felt this good—and you? well….you have to admit you’ve never felt like this before either. it’s new, maybe not better, but certainly not worse.

“oh, fuck,” satoru groans, voice cracking as he whines against your shoulder, “f-fuck your so tight—‘s so good. so, so good….’m not g-gonna last much longer.”

“are you close, baby?” suguru strokes your cheek, watching as your eyes squeeze and your face twists in pleasure, “can’t have him be the only one cumming. that’s no good.”

“close! ‘m…’m so close, sugu. gonna cum,” you gasp as you nod.

if satoru wasn’t so lost on the feeling of your tight walls constricting around him, fluttering so perfectly that he almost feels like he can’t move, he might have protested that you addressed suguru and not him—he’s the one fucking you after all. it should be him you’re telling that you’re close, not your boyfriend. just because suguru is your boyfriend doesn’t mean he’s the one who gets to bear the reward for making you cum.

right now, that’s satoru.

“aw c’mon, sweetheart, you’re gonna—o-oh, shit,” he cuts himself off with a breathy moan, “you’re gonna make me cry. say my name too, yeah?”

“satoru,” suguru warns lowly.

“see? jus’ like that. yeah, pretty? say it just how suguru did,” satoru, murmurs against your ear, biting your earlobe softly.

your hand, much to suguru’s dismay, tugs from his grasp so your arms can wrap around satoru’s neck and cling to his large figure as he towers over you, fucking you mercilessly. his pace is frenzied now—that steady ache building up in his throbbing length is about to burst, and that coil in your belly feels like it’ll snap any second too.

“s-satoru, please—‘m c-close, so close,” you mewl, “wanna cum.”

he grins, blue eyes raking over your body as his thumb finds your clit and rubs harshly over it in that way you’ve been craving.

“yeah? you close, pretty? ‘s good to hear. i am too,” he murmurs lowly, finishing the sentence off with a shaky gasp as you squeeze around him.

and then you fall over the edge—he sends you hurtling into your high before you can ever register it. it’s new, satoru thinks—it makes his hips stutter for a second when he feels you spasm around his cock like that, sucking him in and squeezing around him enough that he chokes on a whimper and cums right then and there too. he thinks it’s a miracle he held out just long enough to cum after you, thanking anyone who’s listened to his prayers of lasting. it’s almost impossible not to finish immediately with how your walls hug around his length.

by now, his hips have lost any rhythm they might’ve had before, sloppily rutting into you as he desperately rides out his orgasm, thick ropes of cum spilling into the condom that separates him from fully feeling your warmth. he’s sensitive—his cock is throbbing even as he lets go of that built up tension in the form of white, hot release. you milk him until he’s almost certain he’s got nothing left to give, dry and worn out from the way you pulse so harshly around him.

“so good—m-make me feel so good,” satoru breathes in wonder as he finishes, thumb slowing itself along your clit before his body slumps over yours.

it’s hot, it’s sweaty, it’s a mess of limbs as he rests over you, still quivering over your body from the aftershocks of his orgasm. it’s earth shattering—how you make him feel. has he really been missing out on this all this time?

“you’re heavy,” you grumble, patting at his shoulder. he chuckles into your neck, catching his breath.

“yeah? heavier than suguru?”

“i’m careful enough to collapse next to her,” suguru mutters from the side.

“fuck, that was amazing,” satoru rolls over, sprawling himself on the mattress next to you, chest heaving as he breathes, “i see why suguru spoils you so much. you keep him happy, huh?”

“oh yes,” suguru drawls, eyes narrowing. gently, he grabs your wrist and tugs at you, making you sit up as you eye the bulge in his pants and the large wet spot of pre cum staining the fabric. “you’ll see just how happy she makes me in a second here—she’s good with her mouth too.”

idk what possessed me to write this i rly don't. all i know is i want them both carnally

NO PART TWO — please STOP commenting that

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luveline · 2 months

Text

𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

Spencer calls you drunk and in need of rescue. You confess a few secrets to him while he won’t remember them (or so you think). 3k, fem

cw drunk!spencer, mentioned past drug use, confident/bombshell!reader, flirting, spencer getting some well deserved comfort, a handful of his drunken compliments, insecurity, intense mutual pining

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You’re blissfully sleeping in the arms of a REM cycle when your phone rings. It pulls you by the chest, a punch of shock and expectancy at once. It’ll be someone calling you into work, Hotch himself if you’re lucky.

You search blindly for your phone. If you’re even luckier, it’ll be a wrong number. Your fingers curl around the little body of your phone and you bring it to your ear without checking the number, frazzled. “Hello?” you ask hoarsely.

Total quiet.

“Hello?” You pull the screen away. The caller reads: SPENCER. You pull it back rather than hang up. “Hey, Spencer. Are you there?”

“Hello.” He laughs. “Hello, are you there?”

“I’m here, Spencer, where are you?”

“That’s an interesting question, actually, and I’m sure there’s a great answer, but…”

“But what?” You sit up quickly, your throat aching with sleep. Your room is black as coal pitch. “Spencer, what time is it, my love?”

“You shouldn’t call me stuff like that.”

“Stop being weird and tell me where you are.”

He laughs like a hyena. You can see it in your mind, his smile and all his pearly perfect teeth. You love it when he smiles like that and he rarely ever does. “I’m somewhere and I need your help getting home!” he says with another funny laugh.

“Are you alright? You sound…” He sounds inebriated.

Spencer struggled with his drug problem for so long before you found out. You just hadn’t been around enough, and when you were he’d gotten good at hiding it. You can still remember how furious you’d been with everyone, including him, because you could’ve helped, would’ve done anything to support him through it. If he’s hurting now and hasn’t told you, you love him, but you’ll be insanely angry.

“Spencer?” you ask quietly.

“I went for drinks with a girl but she didn’t like me and I may have drowned my sorrows too much,” he admits. “Um. Did you know gin is very strong?”

“Aw, baby. You’re cheating on me?”

“I’m afraid so,” he says, and hiccups.

“Where are you?”

After some hassle wherein you persuade Spencer to give the phone to someone else in the bar for a slightly less drunk interrogation, you dress and gather your bearings for the drive. You zip a hoodie up over your pyjamas, stuff your feet into some old converse, and set out into the dark to find him.

He calls you again as you’re parking. “Hello,” he says as soon as you answered. “I need you to come and get me.”

Spencer called you twice to save him. Even if he doesn’t remember, he’s called you to come and get him when he knows he needs help, and that realisation is hard to ignore. “Spencer, I’m two minutes away, I’m parking. You’re still where you were?”

“Where was I?”

“At the bar, sweetheart. Are you still there?” It’s scarily dark out and you didn’t grab any sort of defensive measure before you came, which you regret now, climbing out of your car to walk the dimly lit road. The bar glows like a beacon to be followed.

“Still where?”

“Did you hit your head?”

“Not to my knowledge. Though I’m not sure I have much right now. I feel like I’m forgetting everything I’ve ever read, and I’ve read a lot. You know I can read about eighty average length novels in one hour on an e-reader? The buttons make it faster.”

“You haven’t told me that before.” You shiver against the nighttime winds, footsteps heavy on the grey sidewalk.

“I’m trying to be more conversational. Emily says it’s not working.”

“You’re conversational. Isn’t the only condition of being conversational to prompt a conversation? We’re always talking.”

“…What?”

You laugh like crazy. “Spencer, you don’t need to change the way you talk.”

“I annoy people.”

“You don’t annoy me.”

You approach the door of the bar, a ramshackle sheet of plywood over what looks to be a glass door. The bar building seems in similar dessaray, with modern features wrecked by scratches and smashed panes. It’s a real dive. Spencer couldn’t have meant to come here.

You war with both hands to open the door and find yourself faced with a long and empty corridor leading to another door. Worried you’re going to get kidnapped, you bring the phone back to your ear, Spencer’s chatting an immediate greeting. “…telling me I’m doing something wrong without telling me what it is, it’s impossible.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, can you come to the door?”

“I don’t think I have control of my legs,” he says without inflection.

“It’s definitely the building with the smashed door?”

“Yesssss. Are you here?” he asks excitedly.

“I better not get murdered, Spencer Reid.”

“Am I in trouble?”

“How are you even keeping the phone to your ear right now?”

“I’m on speaker phone. Milly showed me how to do it. Say hi, Milly.”

“Hi Milly,” a new voice says.

You rub your eyes with one hand and square your shoulders, prepared to defend yourself if the creepy door leads to a creepier room.

Spencer is immediately visible from the get go. You open the door on to a rather cosy looking bar, which you’re thinking might be the whole point; wretched exterior, secret attraction. Warm orange light ebbs into the space from sconces and a faux fireplace, while a wrestling match playing from the small TV behind the bar casts brighter light down onto Spencer’s shoulders. He looks out of place, dressed in a white oxford shirt and a suit jacket, his tie loosened and hanging from either side of his neck, compared to the lingering patrons who sit dotted around the room in booths and on barstools. One such patron sits in a plaid shirt and a trucker hat, her hair to her back, thick and dark.

You hang up the call and put your phone in your pocket. Spencer gasps like he’s been smacked and picks his own phone up from the bar, clicking at buttons with clumsy fingers. “No,” he hums sadly.

“Spencer,” you say, not wanting to disturb the people spending their sorry-looking night here. “Spencer. Hey, Spence!”

His phone tips between his fingers. The woman you assume to be Milly catches it and offers it back without looking too far from her beer.

“Hey,” you say gently, crossing a wide empty space to meet him. The room itself is shaped like a horseshoe, the bar taking up a surprising amount in the centre, and booths and tables placed around it. Spencer’s off of his barstool as you approach, eyes like puppy dog’s, arms extended. “You okay?” you ask.

You can feel eyes on you both from every angle, but it doesn’t matter, not when Spencer’s falling into your arms (or on to them —he’s surprisingly tall when you aren’t wearing heels). “You alright?” you ask again.

“You don’t have to be worried, I’m fine.”

He’s less coordinated in real life than he’d sounded over the phone, his slurring unmissable, his hands like jumping fish as he tries to hug you. It’s weird and straining to take his weight but you do it without complaint. He smells the same, at least, only his cedary cologne is sharpened by the tang of gin on his breath.

“Thank god you’re here,” he whispers.

“Why?” you ask, pulling away to check for danger.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too, handsome,” you say, genuine but laying it on thick simultaneously as you ease his head back to cup his cheek. You can’t help yourself. He’s the prettiest man you’ve ever met, and it gets worse every year.

He frowns at you deeply. “I don’t like first dates.”

“Then don’t go on them,” you suggest, “you don’t need to until you’re ready.”

“I’m ready for love,” he says. You pull your lips into a flattened line, unsure of what to say, how to explain that it’s waiting for him, but his chin dips towards his neck and his eyes lock onto your face. “You’re not wearing makeup. God, you’re so pretty.”

You flinch away from him. “Fuck, Spencer.”

“I’m sorry! It’s not that you don’t look pretty with makeup, but I never see you without it!”

You’d forgotten you weren’t wearing any. Makeup isn’t a shield, exactly, but you like putting your best foot forward, so to speak. You’ve no clue what you look like tonight, hadn’t managed to look in the mirror, you’d been focused on getting to Spencer before he got lost. You can imagine the puffiness.

Spencer touches your cheek. You let him turn you mostly because he’s surprised you, his eyes roving up and down your face with a fawning curiosity.

“You’re beautiful. You know that already, but people don’t tell you enough,” he says, his hand falling from your cheek.

“Spencer,” you say softly, “let’s get you home.”

You thank Milly for her help and grab Spencer’s bag from the floor to hang on your shoulder. You’d make a joke about how heavy it was if you didn’t think he’d take it from you, and, considering how drunk he is, topple over from the imbalance it provides. His shirt is clammy where you push your hand through his arm to link them, his footsteps wobbly.

“I didn’t want to go on a date,” he says.

“Then why did you go?” you ask, helping him over the door jam into the long hallway.

“I don’t want to be alone forever.”

“Spencer, you won’t be.” It doesn’t feel like the best time to bring up how much you like him. You’re sure he thinks you’re kidding, doesn’t everybody? Don’t torture him, they say. Don’t toy with him. Every time you flirt with him the team acts like you can’t mean it, and for a while it worked for you; you weren’t in love with Spencer. You weren’t playing with his feelings, but you didn’t love him, and then you joined the team and got to know him, watched him fluster at every comment you made or under any soft looking and realised you could love him. It was easy to fall for him. You liked doing it. But now he’s determined to write your affection off as a joke and going on dates?

In the morning, when he’s sober, you’ll have to tell him how you feel. Or you could let him find someone more like him… ugh. It’s such a mess.

You grapple with the size of your feelings for him as he hums and laughs his way down the hall to the glass door. On the street, he squints and straightens his back, fighting to regain his arm from your hold to cover your shoulder instead. “It’s cold,” he says in surprise. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, I got my jacket. It’s a short walk, come on.”

His arm stops acting as protection and starts to use you for support. “I didn’t mean to drink so much.”

“Drowning your sorrows is always a terrible idea because it tends to work,” you lament, less scared of the dark with him at your hip, though what protection he might offer is negated by the alcohol.

“She kind of looked like you.”

You squeeze your eyes together quickly. “Oh.”

“I didn’t know she was going to. But she didn’t– she didn’t– it’s hard to talk. She didn’t listen like you do,” he says, lightly slurring, “she just stared at me like everyone used to in high school. Like she could tell there’s something wrong with me.”

“Spencer, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I know,” he says.

“Do you?”

“Yes.” He frowns. “No, I don’t know. I don’t feel like there’s something wrong with me,” —his voice turns to a nearly indistinguishable mumble— “but everyone else always does.”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.”

“Is that why you make all your jokes?”

“What jokes, babe?”

“Like that! Like babe. It’s funny ‘cos you’d never date me.”

You’d slow if he weren’t already walking at a snail's pace. “That’s not true. Let’s talk about it in the morning, okay?”

“I won’t remember to ask you in the morning.”

“Spencer, you remember everything.”

He drags his feet. “I wish I wasn’t so weird,” he whines. It’s playful at the forefront but desperate otherwise, and it gives you pause. “I wish I was normal, and you could like me normal.”

You look down at your hands, panicking, a flash of Is this a good idea? like an alarm in your head as you turn on the sidewalk to face him. He’s looking at you like he’s begging you to disagree with him.

You’re happy to.

“Spencer, I like you like this,” you insist loudly. His eyes and all his sweet lashes track the movement of your hand as you touch your chest, and your neck. “You’re not normal, I’m not normal. Do you know how many times I’ve been rejected? Just for being me? I’m too bossy, too outspoken, too– too high maintenance. I've had friends with good intentions tell me I need to lower my standards, need to relax, because otherwise I’m going to end up alone for the rest of my life. I feel alone all the time.”

“But you’re perfect,” he says, puzzled.

“To you. And you’re perfect to me.” Your hand crawls to the base of your throat. “So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do. You think I’d come and get anybody else in the middle of the night dressed like this?” you ask him, gesturing to your ratty pyjamas and your dingy converse.

“You look so cute,” he says mournfully.

You roll your eyes. He’s too wasted for this conversation. “Come on, sweetheart. You can think about this too much in the morning. Let’s just get home in one piece.” Physically and emotionally.

“Can I come home with you?” he asks.

That had always been the plan. “Ask me nicely and I’ll consider it on the way.”

— —

Spencer shuts his eyes, hands itching to clap over his ears as you scratch the head of a spatula across your frying pan. “Is three eggs too many? People usually have two but that’s never enough for me.”

“I think…” Oh my god the metal screeching is so loud. “You should have as many as you want. You know your body. There’s this study on intuitive eating…” I'm too hungover for this. “Three eggs is better than two.”

“So you want three?”

He cannot eat right now. “Yes. Please.”

Spencer’s half sick with dehydration and half grief. He stayed at your house last night and he was too drunk to be nosy. He slept in your bed. He slept in your bed. He woke up to you at your vanity doing your hair, the nutty smell of hair oil mixed with the heat of the hair tool on high and realised with a start that he’d missed something he thought about all the time.

You’d tipped your head back to smile at him. “There’s my boy. Sweet dreams?”

He didn’t dream, but if he had, it would’ve been another agonising wish where you were his girlfriend, or his wife, or just there looking at him with love. He wakes up feeling sick because it isn’t true. And now you’re making him breakfast, humming a tune under your breath, sourdough sizzling under the grill and a shoddily blended avocado sitting in the bowl in front of him.

You asked him for one thing. He picks up the fork and starts to mash the avocado again. He can’t fight the foreignness of sitting in your kitchen, a gap in his memory.

He knows he told you about his date, how she looked like you, how she didn’t seem to like him much, but he’s struggling to collect the finer details. Why had you picked him up? He must’ve called you, but you could’ve said no. He remembers thinking you looked beautiful, but he always thinks that.

The avocado is making him feel sick.

“Here,” you say, sliding a plate of toast in front of him. “Do you want butter?”

“I think I'm gonna throw up.”

“You’re okay.”

“I can’t believe how I acted,” he says, pressing his palms to the hollows of his eyes.

You turn off the hob. Fat bubbles and pops until it’s cooled. The clock on the wall by the refrigerator ticks incessantly. His slept-in shirt feels too tight despite the undone button.

“Hey…” You round the island but don’t touch him, your voice gentle. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He drags his hands down his face. “I can barely remember what I said.”

“You were really nice to me… told me I looked pretty without my makeup, n’ that I was perfect. You were really nice.”

Your tone is off. No flirtatiousness, no endless confidence, you sound wistful, like you’re glad he said it. You take the bowl of avocado he’s made a mess with and put it aside with the toast, resting your arm on the counter, and leaning into his space. “Spencer, last night? You didn’t do anything to be embarrassed of. You were nice, and kind. You tried to open the car door for me and you almost lost your eye, but you were fine. You don’t have anything to be worried about, really.”

“But it’s you.”

“Gonna touch your hair,” you say, giving him enough time to move away as you reach out and rake back his fringe. His heart leaps into his mouth. “You said something last night like that, you know? Do you remember that? You said if you were normal.” You grace the skin beside his eye with the tip of your thumb, your perfume floating his way as you move. “And I said–”

“I’m not normal,” he says, remembering now.

You’re not normal, I’m not normal, you’d said.

But you’re perfect, he’d said.

To you. And you’re perfect to me.

“Right. We’re not normal, Spencer Reid, so forget that girl. She didn’t deserve you anyways,” you say.

You draw a short, silken line down his cheek with the side of your pinky. To be touched so lightly has his stomach in knots —he’s not shocked by the swiftness with which your affection can make a bad situation good again.

You turn away. “Now we should eat before everything goes cold.”

He watches your shoulders move, and he remembers one last detail. So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do.

The way you’d said it… you couldn’t really mean…

“How’s your appetite? Still feeling sick?” you ask.

Spencer smiles to himself, the ghost of your touch glowing warm on his cheek. “I’m feeling a lot better, actually.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!!! please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed, i appreciate anything and it always inspires me to write more<3!! my requests are pretty much always open for bombshell!reader (even though this one strays a bit from their usual story haha) so if you wanna see more let me know❤️

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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