#10k x Fem!Reader

[tetriminas]

dating Miles Edgeworth headcanons (Miles Edgeworth x fem reader)

He leaves you for a man

[bwabys-scenarios]

NSFW

He likes to look up at you while he eats you out with those pretty eyes full of lust… “look at me, angel. look at how good I’m making you feel.”

He loves holding your hand, and if you look away he’ll hold your bud between his teeth lightly as a warning…

He usually doesn’t like to see you cry, but your eyes are so pretty when you’re crying from all the pleasure he’s given you.

He likes to tongue fuck you too but man… he loves sucking on your clit.

He likes to hear you whimper and whine, and loves when you tug on his hair or give him a little guidance

He can’t deny he gets really hard when you gently push his head towards your entrance, wanting some attention there too!!

The sounds…

He’s squeezing your thighs as he sucks, nibbles, licks… you’d think he was starving for pussy

He really just wants to make you feel good, but honestly he eats you out because he really really enjoys it.

He would do it regardless but… it does help that he loves it!

Trying to do anything around the house after he’s gotten a taste of pussy is hard. And god sitting on this man’s face?? He would go to cloud 9…

——————

|| GOJO|| NANAMI|| GETO|| SUKUNA|| CHOSO||TOJI ||KURAPIKA|| LEORIO|| CHROLLO|| ILLUMI|| FEITAN|| EREN|| JEAN|| ARMIN|| RENGOKU|| OBANAI|| TENGEN|| YOUR FAV

[undressrehearsal]

is it casual now?

chapter 1

summary: you and ellie agreed that this was just for a little fun - so what's the harm in her inviting you to joel's for a movie night?

word count: 2.3k

tags: nsfw, fingering (e and r receiving), angst, dub con?? i think?, does this count as public sex?, this shit's messy af y'all, mean reader, toxic relationship

a/n: i've wanted to write a fic based off this song for a while now. i've seen a few people write it (the song's a banger) but i only ever see ellie being written as the distant toxic one and tbh i don't think that matches her character so here's the opposite

also i hid a one last stop reference in here if you find it you get a prize (it's not hard to find)

if you wanna be tagged in the things i post, just lmk in the replies!

Joel was trying to decide what movie you should watch. 

At least, Ellie thought he was. She could see the way his lips were moving - could even make out the words Dawn of the Wolf, whatever that meant - but she couldn’t actually hear him. She sat across from him at the dining table, nodding along, trying to school her expression into a pantomime of interest, but his words were drowned out by the ringing in her ears. 

Your hand on her thigh crept higher. 

Ellie shifted in the uncomfortable wood chair, uncrossing her legs only to recross them, and your hand didn’t move. You stroked slow circles into her jeans with your thumb; she would have thought it was absentminded if she didn’t know you so well. Ellie could see you in her peripheral. You smiled politely, nodding along as Joel listed off what movies he had found lately - it had become his mission to hunt for them while he was on patrol. (He always insisted that Ellie needed to be familiar with all the classics from before the outbreak.) 

Somewhere past the sound of her heart pounding in her ears, Ellie heard Joel say her name. She blinked, shifted in her seat again, and replied intelligently, “Huh?” 

He shook his head at her and laughed as he said, “Where you at, kiddo?” 

She ran a hand through her hair, purposely avoiding looking at you - she knew she’d only find that shit-eating smile on your face. “Sorry, had patrol late last night. Yeah, that movie sounds cool.” She had no idea what movie he had suggested. 

It didn’t matter much in the end. After switching off the lights, Joel sat back in his big old recliner (he’d looked like a fucking kid on Christmas morning when Tommy gave that to him), leaving the couch to you and Ellie. You leaned into her with your head on her shoulder; she had her arm draped over the back of the couch, not quite touching you. She was dancing a fine line between wanting to hold you and knowing you wouldn’t let her, but the tightrope was slipping from under her feet because you had put your fucking hand on her thigh again. She’d swear there was a damn magnet connecting your hand to her. 

Ellie covered a gasp with a cough when your hand drifted between her legs. Your eyes were glued to the flickering television, but there was no hiding the small, satisfied smile on your lips. And she fucking hated herself for wanting to kiss it more than anything. 

The tattered blanket you shared covered up the fact that the tips of your fingers were grazing across the seam of her jeans. Even the ghost of friction made her squirm, the movie becoming nothing more than white noise. You were too fucking bold, and her head spun when your nimble fingers undid the button and slid the zipper down so slowly it ached. When your fingertips dipped below the waistband of her boxers, she couldn’t stop herself from glancing at Joel. He was enthralled in the movie, and she couldn’t even pay attention to it; she hated herself for that too. 

She knew she shouldn’t; she knew she should’ve grabbed your wrist, told you to stop so she could just enjoy the movie with her… with Joel. He’d been trying to plan a movie night with her for a week, and tonight she had finally been free from patrol. God, she shouldn’t have invited you, but when he asked if she wanted to bring a friend, of course your name had popped up. 

She should have known it would be a mistake - an intoxicating one, but a mistake nonetheless. And when you dragged your fingers over her, pressing the lightest pressure to her clit, it took everything in her not to tilt her hips against your hand in search of friction. 

Ellie bit down on her lip so hard she'd swear she tasted blood when you dipped just the tips of your fingers inside her. It was embarrassing how easy it was - how wet she already was and you had hardly even touched her. But when you circled her clit, your fingers already soaked, the shame burning in her chest evaporated. Her eyes fluttered, heat burning in her stomach, your touch setting her aflame. Her fingers dug into the back of the couch. She longed to touch you, to just wrap her arm around you and hold you close, press your head to her chest so you could hear how her heart reached for you. 

Instead, she could only grip the couch behind your shoulder, gritting her teeth against the ache of it. You didn't even look at her, playing with her as though it were an afterthought, but there was no missing the smirk on your lips. She hated it; God, she wanted to kiss you. 

Ellie didn't dare look at Joel - she didn't think she could handle seeing him so engrossed in the movie he had been so excited to show her while she sat only a few feet away, coming undone on his couch. She couldn't handle the shame rising in her throat again. If she looked at him, she was sure she'd be sick right there. 

She tried so hard to keep it together - her hips ached from the force of holding them still, her lip surely cracked from biting it. Her chest burned with the moans she had to swallow like acid. But she couldn't keep it all in - it was overflowing. And when finally, the coil in her stomach threatening to snap, a low groan spilled from her lips, Joel turned to look at her. 

Ellie didn't want to think about what he saw, but whatever it was, it made his brow pinch in concern. She couldn't meet his worried eyes when he said, “You okay, kiddo? You don't look too good.” 

Your fingers hadn't even fucking slowed. You looked at her with a mask of concern, batting your eyes so innocently even as you pressed your fingers into her, curling them so you hit that spot that made her see stars. And then Ellie did grab you, gripping your shoulder in warning and glaring down at you. You wrinkled your nose, but relented and slid your fingers out of her; her grip tightened when you slid back over her clit. Fuck, she never should've invited you. 

Ellie cleared her throat; she couldn't look at either of you without feeling sick, so she turned her gaze to the movie. What was it even about? 

“Sorry, I just-” Her voice was strained, suffocating in her own throat. She felt like she was going to swallow her own tongue. The coil in her stomach tightened and she felt nauseous. She groaned again, and the words tripped over themselves in a rush when she said, “I don't feel good.” 

Ellie stumbled to her feet, forcing you to withdraw your hand; when she glanced down, she could see that your fingers were wet and it made her stomach twist. Keeping one hand over her stomach to hide the fact that her fucking pants were undone, she hurried from the room, ignoring Joel when he called after her. She couldn't look him in the eye or else she might actually puke.

Making a beeline for the bathroom, Ellie slammed the door behind her and leaned against it, the wood cold against her back. She took a deep breath, counting the cracks in the ceiling until her heart finally stopped bashing against her ribs, her throat burning. Pinprick tears stung her eyes as she fixed her pants, her fingers shaking so hard she could hardly grasp the button. 

Cursing under her breath, Ellie braced her hands on the bathroom sink, her shoulders sagging. Her eyes were rimmed red; she scrubbed her hands over her face roughly, willing her stomach to settle. 

She shouldn’t have been upset, really. The first time your hand had found its way into her pants, all those months ago, you had made it perfectly clear what this was. She could still hear your voice from that night, saccharine sweet and smelling like the whiskey you had nabbed from her cabinet: Come on, Els, Jackson’s so boring. We can just have a little fun, right? She remembered the weight of your body when you climbed onto her lap, your thighs warm on either side of her hips, your hands pressing her back against the couch. She could still feel the way your breath had ghosted over her neck, your voice dripping with honeyed desire: It's just a little fun.

Her own eyes looked so unfamiliar, a stranger peering at her from the bathroom mirror. 

Cursing again, she turned on the faucet, bending to splash water on her face - it was December and the water was so cold it numbed her hands. It was a welcome relief against her burning skin. 

Ellie felt so fucking dirty it hurt. No matter how she scrubbed at her skin, rubbing it raw, she couldn’t seem to rid herself of it. The cold water stung her cheeks. 

A knock on the door made her jump, cold water splashing down the front of her shirt. She cursed, pulling the damp fabric away from her chest with a grimace before calling, “Give me a minute, okay?” 

But you had never been very good at listening, had you? You didn’t even look surprised when you pushed the door open, ignoring her protest, and found Ellie leaning against the counter, water still dripping from her chin. If anything, you looked almost amused, quirking an eyebrow at her. It was the look you gave her every time you got her worked up, your eyes showing the laughter you bit back. She fucking hated that look. 

Ellie glared over her shoulder at you, but there was no real malice behind it - even when she hated you, something in her still softened when you were around. A switchblade girl with a cotton candy heart. 

You closed the door softly behind you, leaning back against it with a smug smile that she wanted to wipe off your face - she just wasn’t sure how she wanted to yet. Ellie could hear how your ego tinted your voice when you said, “Joel sent me to check on you. Probably thinks you're barfing your guts out or something.” 

Ellie rolled her eyes, looking away from you and mumbling, “Yeah, I guess dinner didn’t sit well….” 

You scoffed and the sound went straight to her stomach. She felt rather than saw you step behind her; she tensed when you placed your hands on her hips, leaning forward to put your chin on her shoulder. Her hands gripped the edges of the sink so hard she thought the porcelain might crack. She could feel the heat of your body all the way down her back, your hips pressing into her ass, and her traitorous heart fluttered embarrassingly. 

Ellie met your eyes in the reflection, watching as your smile grew into something almost mocking. You placed a kiss on the back of her neck, pressing your words into her skin: “Damn, Els, I didn’t know Dawn of the Wolf got you so hot and bothered.” Your fingers pressed into her hips, pulled her back against you. She failed to smother the sigh it pulled from her. She hated how it made your smile widen, and she hated even more how much she wanted to fucking kiss it off your stupid face. She shivered when she felt your teeth graze over her neck, and almost missed it when you muttered, laughing, “God, you’re so fucking easy, you know that?” 

Ellie shoved away from the counter, spinning on her heel and grabbing your wrist before you could flinch away. You had only blinked before she slammed you back against the wall, praying that Joel didn’t hear it. Her fingers wrapped so tightly around your wrist she could feel your pounding pulse, pressing it to the wall above your head. She slipped her thigh between your legs, pressing up into you, and she only had a moment to register that smug fucking grin before she slapped a hand over your mouth. She relished in the way your eyes flashed in something akin to fear. She had to find wins where she could, right? 

Leaning forward so her nose brushed yours, Ellie growled into the back of her hand, “Don’t make a fucking sound.” 

And she did get to wipe that cocky smile off your face. She kept her hand over your mouth, releasing your wrist to snake her arm between your legs. She muffled your moans, hissing when your nails dug into her biceps. 

Joel was in the next room, she thought distantly. Joel was in the next room, watching the movie he had been so excited to show her. He was in the next room, concerned about her, waiting for her, and here she was pressing her best friend into the wall of his bathroom. She had your pants around your ankles, two - three - fingers pushing into you. She could feel the vibrations of your moans against her hand - she wanted to press her lips to yours and swallow them, knowing you would never let her. 

It came too fast, Ellie pressing into you relentlessly if only to make you fucking shut up for once. Your body shuddered against her, and she wanted to hold you through it, but by the time it was over you were already pushing her away. When her hand fell from your mouth, you were smiling again. Maybe she was going to be sick after all. 

@filtered-sunlight

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

croissant - send me a sfw request! 

shy!reader asking eddie munson to be her boyfriend

a/n: bro... I think it's been like half a year since i've written something for this dude.........

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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“You want me to be your boyfriend, huh?” Eddie smirked down at you as if you’d just told him the juiciest of secrets that he could now hold over you till the end of your days.

“I mean, only if you want to, of course,” you averted your gaze to your sweaty palms as they nervously fiddled and tangled in one another, “I don’t wanna–”

But then his fingers found your chin and tilted it up till your eyes met his once more, “baby,” his thumb gently swooped across your skin as he uttered, “I thought I already was.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[wandaverse]

playing with fire.

— buff firefighter!wanda x college student!reader

— summary: the 5 times you meet and the 1 time wanda lights a different kind of fire

— tags: pure fluff, major horniness, implied smut

— word count: 1,252 words

1. the first time you meet is late at night when there’s a fire in your dorm.

someone down the hall sets fire to their microwave trying to heat up a burrito. deeply asleep with fatigue from the week’s intense assessments, you don’t hear the screeching alarms.

without hesitation, a chilvarous wanda arrives at the scene and kicks down your door, carrying you out bridal style. wanda’s not complaining, not with the way you sleepily nuzzle into the safety of her neck.

through your sleepy haze you wonder who the buff woman carrying you out the building is, she smells like smoked cedar with faint hints of sea salt. you decide that you like this scent and the warmth that accompanies it.

2. you next meet at a sorority party gone wrong.

your friends get the stupid idea of trying fire breathing. the only thing you end up breathing though is clouds of smoke when your sorority house almost burns down. wanda arrives in the nick of time in her blaring red truck and douses the flames.

something else ignites within you though when you meet her properly for the first time, awake and certainly alert. you take in the sight of her breathless figure after rushing to fight the flames. so this is who saved you that night in your dorm… oh.

wanda is not particularly amused at you and your friends’ irresponsible antics. you shrink under the weight of her disapproving gaze, but also can’t help but cheekily grin. wanda can’t stay upset, she has to admit you look cute with ash all over your face.

3. your paths cross again when you notice a kitten stuck in a tree while studying on your campus’ lawn.

after many futile rescue attempts, you call emergency services and once again your knight in shining armour (or rather, reflective PPE) arrives. she gallantly climbs her ladder and saves the kitten. you don’t deny enjoying the view of her sunkissed skin when she takes off her jacket to swaddle the kitten.

afterwards, wanting to prolong the encounter, wanda asks if you want to ride with her in her fire truck to drop the kitten off at the nearest vet. you excitedly accept her offer and enjoy the trip around the city. wanda secretly steals fond glances at you, looking adorable with the kitten in your lap.

4. the next time you meet is not in the face of life threatening danger, but rather danger to your self-composure.

on a regular trip to the supermarket, you pass the row of calendars and your eyes land on a familiar face on the annual westview firefighters calendar sold for charity. you can’t ignore the curiosity that compels you to take a sneaky peak at its contents.

your cheeks instantly burn red when you turn to february’s page and find your favourite firefighter scantily clad and leaving little to the imagination. standing in a shallow pool of water with flames raging around her, wanda poses with an axe slung across her shoulders, wearing only a black training bra and her firefighter pants. her buff arms and unsurprisingly toned abs are on show as she stares directly at you the camera. you fight the urge to bite your lip at her flexed muscles, her sunkissed skin, the shine of her sweat mixing with ash. you’ve never felt so taken before, you forget your bearings for a second.

that is, until you hear a familiar voice call out your name.

your ears register her presence before your eyes and you quickly shut the calendar, throwing it back on the shelf as if its touch has burned you. you ready to make an excuse until you finally look up and find the firefighter just as scantily clad as, if not more than, her outfit in the calendar’s photoshoot.

wanda approaches you, seemingly in her post-workout fit and you have to stop yourself from drooling at the sight of her sweaty and taut arms and abs, only this time in real life. god, the photo doesn’t even do her justice. wanda calls out your name again with a husky laugh and your blush profusely, realising you’ve been caught ogling her not once but twice.

5. you meet once again when you move out to an apartment near campus and decide to cook dinner for yourself.

you quickly realise that you actually have no idea how to cook when your entire kitchen ends up in flames. wanda arrives just in time and puts out the grease fire. for a second, you can’t help but question fate. it’s as if there’s only one firefighter in all of westview with the way wanda always finds her way back to you. you’re not complaining though.

she turns to you and scolds you for your carelessness, but not before checking that you’re okay and not hurt by the wild fire. your heart secretly skips a beat at the continued display of care. ever the prince charming, isn’t she?

before she leaves for the next emergency, though, she asks you out for dinner instead. unsurprisingly, you say yes.

+1. the evening of your first date arrives.

you’re lounging on the couch in your apartment watching a sitcom when you hear a knock on your window. wanda has climbed up the fire escape and asks to be let in like a lost kitten. you lift open the window with a laugh and she tells you that she’s set up a picnic under the stars on the rooftop. she escorts you back out the window and up the fire escape. you giggle adoringly at her antics.

the evening goes well as you two happily find that the spark between you wasn’t imagined and isn’t going to fizzle out anytime soon. conversation flows naturally and you enjoy the food wanda has cooked for you. she jokes that at least one of you can cook, which earns her a playful slap. but when you reach over to do so, you accidentally knock over a candle and almost burn the entire picnic blanket. the fire is quickly avoided though thanks to wanda’s quick reflexes. she gives you a humuored tsk, but you secretly revel in her display of protection.

the evening comes to an end as the city around you calms down and the stars settle in for the night. wanda escorts you down the fire escape once again and the butterflies in your stomach continue to take flight. when you reach your window, you turn to wanda and thank her for the evening, for thinking of such a lovely idea and packing such a delightful picnic. when you place a goodbye kiss on her lips though and she takes you in her arms, you quickly realise that that’s not the only thing she’s packed.

wanda pulls back and blushes sheepishly at your realisation, but it’s enough to set you off. all night you’ve been teased with the sight of her shirt lifting and showing the slightest glimpse of her abs, the tight fit of her t-shirt’s sleeve around her arms, the simple yet alluringly attractive way she runs her fingers through her hair. she’s been teasing you all night and you decide that you’ve had enough. you quickly engulf her in kisses and pull her boldly through your window.

your night rages on and as the flaming sun begins to rise, wanda pleasantly learns that there’s one particular fire that she just can’t put out.

the end.

[thisisxli]

𝐓𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝. - 𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐑.

Rs: Prince Sukuna x Cinderella Reader

Warnings: none other than your bitch step-mother and step-sisters. And Mahito! Slight curse words

Tags: Cinderella AU

Summary: After your father died, your step-family has forced you into becoming their scullery maid. What if there was something or someone that was a one time in a life chance that could change your way of living? Of course, Prince Sukuna.

Wc: 10.2k

A/N: mostly proofread, ignore any mistakes I've made! A lot of monologue and scenes from the 1950s Cinderella movie and a few from the 2015 one.

Gojo clears his throat, opening the book as mice and a few more animals crowd around him. "Once upon a time.." Gojo looks up, thinking to himself for a moment before nodding, averting his blue eyes back into the book, "a life passes and a life begins anew, when poor little (Y/N) worked as a scullery maid..."

"Prince Sukuna," the Duchess speaks. Sukuna smirks as he fences with his partner in front of him before quickly dodging their fence, his own fence easily making way to his partner's body. "Prince Sukuna," the Duchess speaks once again except more firmly, a few butlers coming up to stand next to them. "Prince Sukuna-" "nice job out there," Sukuna's smirk widens when he takes off his eepe mask, high-fiving his fencing partner.

"Prince Sukuna!!-" "What, Uraume!??!" Sukuna turns to his Duchess with visible annoyance shown on his face, his posture starting to droop. "Can't you see I'm busy here? If my father needs something, he can do it himself," Sukuna spits, pulling his mask down and getting into a stance to fence. Uraume's face quickly drops to a face of aggravation as she rolls her eyes before turning stoic, "what your father requests of you is to be wedded with a wife in hand." Sukuna stiffens as his fencing partner gets the opening, hitting him in the chest with the tip of the sword. "H-hey! I did it! I did it guys! 1 to 29! Hey....!" Heads turn to Sukuna's fencing partner when his voice starts to trail off, meeting the glowing eyes of Sukuna through the mask. Sukuna sighs before taking off his whole entire head piece, throwing his fencing sword to the ground. "He wants me to marry," he turns to Uruame, deadpanning. Uruame nods and starts to bow, "he suggests you come up with who you wish to wed." Sukuna groans as a hand drags down his face, his face tattoos scrunching along with his grimacing wrinkles. He thinks for a moment. A wife? Maybe it is about time. "So..." He starts, peaking people's interest. He knows when they slowly turn to a stop in fencing. "Would that get me some pussy?"

His fencing partner starts to snicker along with other fencers, a few chuckling in the back. Uruame sucks in her lips behind her teeth, biting down. She bows down again before walking away, waving to the butlers to stay there with him. "I don't get paid enough for this.." She mutters as she adjusts her monocle.

Sukuna sits in his bed with a black silk robe wrapped around his body, his pecs slightly exposed. His arms loosely hung around two girls who were laying at his sides that were wearing slightly revealing clothes. Sukuna turns his head when he hears a knock at the door, sighing, "come in." Uruame glides into the enormous room along with Sukuna's father following close behind her. Sukuna nearly chokes on his own spit, retracting his arms from the girls beside him and putting his hands in his own lap. Sukuna slightly frowns when his father looks around in the room, "father." The king looks back at his son for a moment before continuing to speculate the room, "Sukuna." Sukuna clicks his tongue, roughly tapping the two females at his sides. They quickly move off the bed and out the room.

"What's this nonsense about me getting married? I'm only 24, damn it-" Sukuna's eyes widen when he gets cut off by a slam on the table. He meets his father's death stare, not too short to make a death stare of his own. His father falters for a second before letting out a boisterous laugh, opening his arms. "My, my, you have grown, son!" Sukuna chuckles and gets off the bed to meet his father, hugging him and patting each other's backs roughly. Uruame just watches silently, blinking at the two. "You are soon to be wed! You're a man, for gods sake. You will take my place as king," he walks up to the large balcony along side Sukuna, looking at him, "and maybe even create your own heir." His father raises his brows in suggestion as Sukuna snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. "Sure, maybe," he smirks, looking over to his father, "I'd just have to find the right one." Sukuna ponders for a moment, looking off to the city that dimly illuminated both their faces. "But how?"

They both think for a moment with their chin pinched by their fingers as Uruame speaks up, tired of the two, "we could throw a ball." They both look back at Uruame and then back at each other before letting out the same rich laugh. Uruame nearly backs out before having her back pat roughly by the king. "That's a tremendous idea! We'll have the servants set up everything in the ball room and have Uruame send out the invitations to every woman in the city!" Sukuna grins as he pats his old man's back, his Duchess mentally sliding a hand down her face. "Soon.. You'll take over everything."

As said and done, servants set up the ballroom that was themed in a deep red with gold encasing the walls and pillars in designs, beautiful diamond chandeliers hang from the ceilings and tall candles light up the room along with the paintings of bloody naked women. Large drapes hang loosely around the King's chair, half-naked women clinging to his legs and sides.

Uruame appears in front of the short stair case, bowing on one knee. "Has the invitation spread throughout the city?" The King slightly smirks, pushing his fingertips together and leans forward. "Yes, my Sire. Every maiden has received an invitation," she pauses, looking up as she smirks, "everything is going according to plan, Sire." The King chuckles in amusement as he waves over a servant, whispering in her ear before sending her off to fetch Sukuna. "Well then," he stands up, arms open, his Royal mantle falling back from his shoulders. "It starts tomorrow night," he grins as the women below him slightly cower in fear, some clinging onto his pants.

You wipe the sweat off your forehead with your arm before clipping wet clothes and dress onto the hanging rope, small dirt and rubble covering parts of your work dress. When all the clothes were hanged, you set a empty basket near the wall and walk over to your Airdelle Terrier, Shoko. The brown thin-furred dog whines in delight when you scratch behind her ears, giggling when she thumps her leg on the ground. She pants as you feed her a treat, walking off with three little mic trailing behind you. Your other dog slept soundly next to Shoko, your Afghan Hound named Nanami. Your horse, Geto, neighs when he sees you. You giggle and wave.

You quickly come to a stop to look down at the three mice following you that bump into the back of your heel. Yuji, following Nobara, and Megumi. "Aw, I didn't know you guys were following me," you sweetly say before scooping them up and dropping them in the pocket of your apron. You enter through a back door of the château, a bell violently ringing against the wall. "(N/N)!! mop the floor downstairs!" The three mice covers their ears in annoyance, Yuji, the one in the red shirt poking out the pocket with a fist curled in the air. He gets shoved back in when Megumi, the one in a dark blue shirt, pushes his head down. You sigh before getting a bucket near the fireplace and fill it up with soap and water, grabbing a towel along the way. You head over to the main room, watching as one of your step-sisters, Yorozu, step up the stairs with dirty heels. She smirks as she slides her feet out of them at the top of the staircase and picks them up, huffing in pettiness before carefully carry her heels within arms reach from her dress, walking away to the shared room with her sister. You sigh when you hear the door shut, quickly dipping the towel in the bucket and start to scrub the floor. The mice jump out your apron's pocket and slides across the slippery floor with small bubbles following closely behind them.

Mahito, the cat, peers from behind the staircase, eyes slitting into lines when he sees the three mice scattering across the floor, struggling to get up.

"Itadori! Get up!" Megumi shouts, his round ears twitching. Yuji fails to do so, slipping before making Nobara slip on her own two little feet, falling back as her bottom half hangs over her face. Her tail wiggles in aggravation as she takes a quick hit on Yuji's head, a 'bonk' sound being heard from the mouse's head. A red bump appears over his pink and black ombre fur. "Ow! I'm trying, Fushiguro! Woah, woah, woah! Hey- look out!" Yuji's small clawed finger points to the now scurrying cat headed their way, all mice's feet skedaddling on the floor. The cat's face meets the wall, his fur standing up from all over at the impact. Yuji snickers before moving on all fours, the blue cat charging at the mouse. Yuji and Mahito slip across the floor, Mahito's claws missing barely an inch on Yuji. Mahito had a thick coat that had a natural baby blue color along with a creamy white color spotting over his paws, nose, and stomach. Dark colors etch on his fur on the back, resembling lines of stitches. Nobara, the mouse that was in a small pink work dress like you, stood on top of a table. Mahito creeps under it, trying to catch the movement of anything. She squeaks when she uses all her might to push a heavy book off the table. Mahito looks up just as it lands in his face, yowling as his paws clutches his face. All three mice scurry through a hole in the wall, closing their small door as you make way towards the cat with a confused expression.

"Mahito, what are you doing down here? You're getting your dirty paws all over the place," you sigh as you pick up the book and set it back on the table, a small frown on your features as you watch the cat walk up the stairs, an unknowing scowl on its' face. You make your way back to your bucket of soap and water, picking up the towel and wiping what stain or streak was on the floor.

The main doors open causing you to turn your head, meeting the eyes of your step-mother. She had a black short bob with a stitch lined across her forehead, a sun hat covered in dark red roses wrapped in a ribbon that was a color of an eggplant. She rolled her eyes at you before opening her mouth to speak, "Yorozu! MeiMei!" Her voice was sickeningly sweet, a hand was cupped next to her mouth, her other holding a envelope and a fan. Both tall women hurry down the stairs, their thick dresses bouncing with each step down the stairs, their hind parts thickened and round in the dress. "Yes, mother," they both say in unison, one's large silver haired braid hanging over their face and the other with a tie up, black spiky hair sprawling out on all sides, a few hair strands resting at the sides of her face. They both bow politely, all three women ignoring your presence.

"Guess who's throwing a ball tomorrow night, girls?" Both step-sisters look at their mother in shock before turning to each other, squealing as they hold each other's hands, jumping in excitement, their dresses bouncing with them. "He's looking for a wife," she explains, a glint in her eye. Both girls squeal even louder, Yorozu balling her dress into her hands. "He'll marry me!" Yorozu claims boldly before having her sister push her shoulder, her braid swaying with every turn of her head, "no, he'll marry me! What are you on, sister?" The girls inch closer to each other's faces as their bickering echoes throughout the room, quickly shutting up when their mother's staff hits the ground. Your step-mother clears her throat, firmly pursing her lips as she explains again, "you both will dress your best. We'll all live in the castle if one of you are able to be wedded." Both of the girls giggle just before you speak up, "step-mother Kenjaku.. May I be able to attend the ball?" The room goes silent as they all turn to your figure, piercing eyes staring daggers into your soul just as they all burst into laughter in unison, your form shrinking and faltering by their boisterous laugh. "Now let's see.." Your step-mother taps her purple-colored fingernails around the ball on her staff, eyes wandering around the ceiling of the room. "If you are able to scrub every corner and edge, clean each of our rooms, and manage to get a dress.." She pauses, jaw pushed to the side for a second, "you're able to attend the ball with us," she seethes with sarcasm, emphasizing with the word 'us.'

You urgently nod your head, bowing at waist-level. "Now then, girls get ready for dinner. (Y/N), prepare the dinner," your step-mother waves her hand at the three of you, all obediently listening to her orders.

"Chop, chop, boys!" Nobara squeaks out to Yuji and Megumi who were cutting and sewing through pink fabric, three other birds working on the bows. One female that had raven colored feathers, the other having silver feathers, and the third having two shades overlapping each other, black and white. A mice, Choso, helps his brother Yuji and have him stand on his shoulders. The raven feathered bird chirps happily when another bird joins in, being quite small compared to her. "Yuta! I'm so glad you could make it," the female bird chirps, watching the smaller bird land on the desk. "I wouldn't miss it for the world, Maki," Yuta chirped back, flapping his wings in greeting.

"Gosh, I can't believe I'm stuck with you two," Megumi murmurs, dragging a clawed hand down and over his snout. Yuji blows a raspberry at him before jumping off the desk, sewing the fabric shut. Nobara finishes it with a bite to the string, the rest of it falling loosely to the floor as Yuji scurried his little feet to the desk. Yuta and Maki work their way to raise the dress up high as Panda places a bow in the center of the neckline when Megumi places a turquoise pearl bead necklace around it, small cheers and squeaks erupting from every mouse at the finishing touch. Inumaki flies to your door, hearing your footsteps come up the stairs.

"Mealworms!" Inumaki chirps to the others. Panda sighs before flapping his wings in alarm for the mouses as he translates, "she's coming!"

It was almost sun-down and you were trembling out of your wits end, your body tired and overworked. You open the door to your room, your face twisting into a face of surprise at the sight. "W-woah!" "Surprise!" Mice jumped up from behind large objects, birds flying into your room as you analyze your new dress. It was a simple but beautiful dress to you, you could only stare at it in awe as you touch it and let it fall from up ur fingers. You start to squeal in delight, carefully taking the dress in your arms, hugging it tightly as you danced around the room. "Thank you! Thank you to you all, thank you so much!"

"I have to show step-mother this," you exclaimed as you went behind the paper folding screen, birds flying over to help remove your clothes. The dress easily slides over your figure, hugging yourself as you hurriedly did your hair just the way you wanted it with a pink bow at the back.

Your step-mother and step-sisters descend the stairs as they both pat their faces in dry powder, the back of their dresses bouncing each time they took a step. "Now when you're presented to his highness, be sure-" Just as they were about to leave, you quickly step down the stairs, a hand up in the air, "wait!" They all look back, gasping audibly when they see you in a dress. As you leave the staircase, you immediately twirl before politely bowing. "Isn't it lovely? Do you like it? Do you think it will do?" Yorozu and Mei step back, absolutely astounded. Yorozu had her hair down with a dark pink dress, Mei's hair was half-down and half-up, wearing a vibrant yellow dress. "N/N!!" "Mother she can't-" "oh no!" "You can't let her-" "GIRLS, please," your step-mother holds a hand up at both of them, holding a stern look. She quickly puts on a smile on her face, looking back and forth between her daughters. "After all, we did make a bargain," she looks up to you, "didn't we, (Y/N)?" You only grin in response before having it slowly fade as she steps up closer to you. "And I never go back on my word. Hmm, how very clever. These beads.. They give it just the right touch, don't you think so, MeiMei?"

Mei turns away as she huffs, "no I don't, I think she's-" Mei's eyes are quick to open, turning back to your beautiful form. She ghastly gasps, her face twisting in anger, "oh! Why you little thief!" She stomps her feet under her dress. "They're my beads! Give them here," she demands before ripping them off of your neck before quickly hearing Yorozu pop in, "oh and look! That's my sash! She's wearing my sash!" You stand there in distraught, panicking as your gaze switches to both the girls as they start to rip apart your dress. You plead as they rip off the ribbons and fabric, feeling their breath against your cheek when they get into your face to yell. "Girls! Girls... That's quite enough," your step-mother scoffs before opening the door, "hurry along now, both of you."

They both walk out the door, holding their dresses between their thumb and index fingers with their hind parts bouncing behind them. You look down at the ripped pieces of your dress on the marble floor, looking up at your step-mother looking down at you with a smirk. "Goodnight," she says one last time, closing the door behind her, leaving you alone in the château. You raise your hands to your eyes as you cry out, running out of the house and to a bench where your mother once sat at.

Hot tears go spilling from your eyes, hands clutching onto the seat and your dress. You weep as you speak out, "no, it isn't true." You sob, hiccuping as mice and other animals you know come to gather to watch you. "It's just no use, no use at all," you whimper to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut, "I can't believe. No, not anymore. There's nothing else to believe in.. nothing."

"Nothing, my dear?" A voice speaks out as you continue to weep. "Now you don't really believe that-" "oh, but I do-" "nonsense sweetheart! If you lost all your faith, I couldn't be here," the voice speaks, soft tender hands holding onto your arms. A hand slides to your chin, your head lifting to see the face of the voice. You gasp when you see a pale man with white hair, blue eyes glowing in the dark. "And here I am," he exclaims, smirking when you nearly fall back before holding your arms gently, lifting you up to stand. "Oh come now, dry those tears," he wipes your tears away with his thumbs, "I don't know what to do when girls cry in front of me. You can't go to the ball looking like that anyway."

"Oh! But- but I'm not-" "of course you are, but we do have to hurry," he chuckles, sliding his fingers through his hair. "Even miracles take time," he rolls up his sleeves, closing his eyes. "Miracles?" He nods, humming in response, "just watch," he smirks just as he attempts to pull out a wand confidently, nothing coming out and appearing on his hand. He blinks at his hand, blushing in embarrassment. "Oops, mistake there. Shit- what did I do with my wand? I was sure..." He bends over to look under the bench and inside his cloak as you peer over him in amusement, "a wand? You must be.." "Your fairy godfather? Why yes, of course. Always been here. And before you ask, I swear I'm not that old- oh! Never mind, I just remembered- I put it away," he smugly says, turning to you with raised brows, his fingers pinched as he lines it down in the air, a wand appearing through the pinch of his fingers. You're taken aback when you see this, your feet shuffling on the floor as you step back.

"Fushiguro! Did'ya see that?!" Yuji exclaims in bewilderment, shaking the shoulders of his best friend. "Yeah.. Yeah, I did," he grumbles, whiskers twitching in annoyance. "How'd he do it?!" Other mice exclaim as Choso pries Yuji off his friend. "Now let's look here.. First thing we need is.. Well, to.. a pumpkin! Yeah-" your godfather points his wand to a fresh grown-out pumpkin in the garden, sparkling magic carrying the pumpkin over. You watch in amazement, hearing him mutter words. "What are you saying? What's your name?" Your godfather looks back at you before chuckling, rubbing a hand at the back of his head. "I'm chanting some magic words but it's a little embarrassing for a man like me to say. Name's Gojo Satoru for you!" You nod feverishly, watching as the pumpkin floats its' way over. Vines grow and starts to curl in itself, the pumpkin growing larger with each chant that comes out of Gojo's mouth. The pumpkin changes its' color.. turning white... it's a carriage? It's a carriage! "Isn't it wonderful?" Gojo turns to you in his flirtatious voice, leaning his weight on one hip as he raises a brow at you.

You giggle, ghosting your hands over the wheel of the large carriage, "it's beautiful," you breathe. "Yes, yes it is. With a elegant coach like that of course- we'll have to.... get mice!" He points down to four mice on the floor, Yuji, Choso, Megumi, and Nobara. Your horse, Geto, stomps his hoove on the ground in offense. "We'll have a coach when we're through. Now let's see here- bibbidi bibbidi boo," he whispers, waving the wand at the four mice that turn into large beautiful stallions. "Ah, now see- that's great. You can't go without a horse!"

You tilt your head at him in confusion, "another one?" You ponder, watching him shake his head and chuckle. "It'll be a change- he'll handle the reins instead," he pets your horse before even more sparkling magic carry Geto, turning Geto into a tall grown man that was... quite attractive. He gets sat in the driver's seat, reins in his hold. He blinks before looking down at himself, then at you. You shrug before blushing, watching him start to smile at you. "He'll be a coachman. And another thing.. The finishing touch! You!" You await for the magic to connect with your skin but nothing tingling comes. You open your eyes to see your dog, Shoko, being carried through the air. She was then transformed into a beautiful girl with a brown bob.

"She'll be the footman," he puffs out his chest pridefully, closing his eyes at his work. "Now, go ahead- hop in because we don't have much time," he bats an eye at you, "I know, I know, don't thank me-" you deadpan at him, pouting. "I wasn't.. Well, I mean- I am thankful! But.. My dress.. Don't you think it's..?"

"Hm?" He turns around to fully take a look at you, gasping in horror when he takes a look at your dress. You deadpan at him again. Did he seriously not notice? "Oh good heavens, no. You sweetie, are not going to the ball looking like that, " he mutters, eyeing your dress up and down. He quickly walks over to you, bending down to measure you with his wand. Your face becomes hot when the attractive man gets close to you, wand pressing against your side. He hums before backing up to create a certain amount of distance, chanting again as the same magic before circles around you, your dress quickly puffing into a poofy light-blue dress. It sparkled under the moon light, puffed out sleeves hugging your shoulders as gloves the same color as your dress were worn by your hands.

You twirl around, hands clutching the sides of your dress as your feet drags you across the floor. "Have you ever seen such a beautiful dress? I even have glass slippers!" You sighed happily, seeing Shoko's head nod quickly as she eyed your dress with a sparkle in her eye. You twirl your way to Geto, a toothy grin on your face as his cheeks turned pink. "M-miss (Y/N)! You're beautiful," he breathes, eyes kept on you as you bow at him and twirl your way towards your godfather who was smiling fondly at you.

"It's like a dream, godfather Gojo-" "please," he raises a hand up before taking your gloved hand in his own, "call me Satoru, sweetheart." You giggle as you twirl away, wrapped in the moment. His smile slightly drops as he taps the tip of his wand against his chin, cocking a brow at you in concern. "Jus' letting you know, like all dreams, this won't last forever. You'll only have until midnight.. And then.."

"Yes, yes, midnight- thank you," you grin, swaying your dress as you stare at your reflection in the water. "Hey now- just wait a minute. You must understand, sweetheart, that at the stroke of midnight, all of this," he draws a circle with his wand, gesturing to every object and being he used magic on, "will go back to the way it was before, d'ya hear me?"

You nod before quickly running to him, taking his hands and holding it to your chest, Gojo's cheeks slightly pink at the unexpected action. "I understand.. but it's anything I could ever hope for," you breathe, leaning in to give him a peck on the cheek, your glass heels giving you leverage. "Ah.. Yeah.. Well ah! Goodness shit- it's getting late, you ought to go," he ushers you off, gently shoving you in the carriage, "the ball can't wait." You quickly adjust to the seat as the door closes, the carriage already being sent off in the dirt road. "Remember, sweetheart! Stroke of midnight!" You stick your head out the door window, smiling when you see his figure slowly fade in a sparkle of magic.

"Mademoiselles Mei Kenjaku and Yorozu Kenjaku, daughters of Lady Kenjaku."

Sukuna's eye peak interest when he sees Yorozu, a small smirk on his lips. He does nothing of the matter though, and just bows as they bow at him, eyes lingering on his figure. Sukuna's father sighs from the stands, rolling his eyes and shaking his head in disapproval. "Y'know sire, I did try to warn you about the prince. He's not interested in any of this and you are a hopeless romantic," Uruame speaks through his sighs and groans, a gloved hand rubbing his forehead.

"There's no doubt when he just bows and right when he suddenly stops and looks up,"

Sukuna raises his head, his whole body stiffening when he sees you, his heart stuttering. "And there, she stands. The girl of his dreams. Who she is or whence she came from, he does not know nor does he care," Uruame speaks away as Sukuna's father notices Sukuna's sudden change in behaviour. Sukuna rushes past Yorozu and Mei, making his way towards your wandering and curious figure. "His heart tells him that here," Sukuna grabs ahold of your hand, only for you to be quick to draw back, "here is the maid that is predestined to be his bride." Sukuna is quick to bow down before you just as you do after him. Uruame lightly chuckles, rubbing her monocle against her suit as the King blinks at the scene of his son and your beautiful form below. "A pretty plot for fairy tails, sire. But in real life, oh no. It was fore doomed to failure-" she quickly gets cut off when the King locks her head with his arm, his gloved knuckles rubbing against her scalp. "Failure, huh? Then take a look at this, you damn pompous hag!" He quickly shoves her down, along with her monocle to watch the two youngsters interact.

Sukuna kisses your hand gently before looking up at you with his red gleaming eyes, ones that were so opposite from Gojo's. It kind of scared you. His eyes almost held possessiveness and so many dark things behind, eyes more piercing and slit than Gojo's who seemed much more kinder and seemed to have good-will. As scary as it was, his eyes also told you he had a sense of security and protection. It almost made you weak in the knees.

"Your highness, it would be an honor. May I take your hand?" His deep voice rumbles in the air, cold air puffing out your mouth as you stare at him in slight surprise. A smile slowly spreads onto your face as you take your hand in his, guiding you into the ball room. Sukuna was nearly gonna shit his pants. He thought you were so fucking beautiful, he didn't know what to say. "You look amazing tonight," he gestures towards your dress, gently squeezing your hand. You blush and cover over your mouth with a hand as you both walk over to the ballroom, starting to gain the eyes of other maidens.

"Who is she? Do you know her?" The King exclaims, peering down with Uruame's monocle. "No, Sire. I've never seen her before," Uruame shakes her head and peers down with him, invested in the sight of Sukuna in the hand of a woman. "Well that's one thing in her favor- shit, they're coming over here," the King quickly turns to gesture to the musicians, hands waving at them, "the waltz! Do the goddamn waltz!"

"Dim the lights!" The King nearly falls over the edge, Uruame's face turning red and round as a tomato as she struggles to keep him up.

"Huh?" Sukuna looks around before looking back at you, his heart nearly melting at the sight of the eye contact. "I guess this is where we should dance," you joke lightly, his hand wrapping around your waist as the other continues to squeeze your hand gently but firmly. He chuckles at your comment, gazing down at you. "You're funny," he remarks, swaying you back and forth as you pick up your dress.

You grin up at him as the music carries you both, lost in each other's gaze. Maidens stare at you both in jealousy and hate, others' heart crumbling at the sight. Some are even happy.

"If anything goes wrong," the King cuts off before sliding his thumb across his neck just as he disappears behind the curtains, leaving Uruame dumbfounded and in charge.

"Mother," Mei whispers in an aggravated voice, clinging to her mother's side. "Mother, who is that," Yorozu growls, twisting her foot into the ground. Your step-mother stares at you and Sukuna from afar, brows raised as her eyes held a jealous glint in them.

"Do we know her?" "Well the prince certainly seems to- but I know I've never seen her-" your step-mother cuts them off with a wave, "nor I, but she's certainly is- wait.. There is something familiar about her," your step-mother's eyes follow you and Sukuna, her own feet moving to inspect your familiar figure. You and Sukuna dance your way out the ballroom elegantly just as your step-mother tries to take a good look, curtains being closed in her face. "Oh my," she embarrassingly looks around, a hand placed on her chest before turning to the sound of another voice, "ahem." There stood Uruame, cocking a brow at her before rubbing her monocle against her suit.

You hum a tune as you both dance, staring into each other's eyes as the night carries you both away. For Sukuna, it felt like it had been a very long time since his heart started to beat. And when he looked into your eyes, it was like seeing the stars. It was in that moment that Sukuna decided that you were to be the one made into his wife.

You two are both met with stairs and that's when you decide to disconnect from each other, your gloved hand and waist savoring the warmth his hands once left you. "So, are you a princess?" Sukuna looks at you as you sputter, nearly choking on your words, a hand waving at your face as you blush. "Ah- no.. I'm merely.. just a girl that lives in a chateau resided in the city," you smile, tucking a few hair strands behind your ear. "Are you.. Are you a prince?"

Sukuna stiffens in surprise, scratching his head, "well.. I'm the prince that's asking for wife," he slightly smirks when he sees your shocked face. "You- you're the prince?! The prince?!" Sukuna laughs, bowing politely at you. "I'm not exactly the prince, I'm just a prince. But I mean, hey," he looks down at you, eyeing you up and down, "I'm the best prince of all there is." You stifle a chuckle, snorting as you turn away to dab away your tears, "he's so corny," you whisper to yourself. But that didn't go unheard by Sukuna that makes a face. "I'd ought to have your head chopped for that, beautiful," Sukuna looks down at you with a mischievous glint in his eye, smirking when your smile slightly falters. You scoff as you turn your head away, waving your hand at him and completely ignoring what he said. "If you must," you shrug, making your way to a fountain.

You were definitely the one. He chuckles before walking beside you, gazing down at the reflection of both of you. You were an amazing sight to behold, like a newly-bloomed flower covered in a frost of snow. He sees you turn to him, getting the chance to look up at you.

You both inch closer, lips lightly brushing at the tips and ghosting over each other. His hand slides over to your waist, gently rubbing up and down your sides that made you shudder. Your eyes quickly open. Just before he got any closer, you step away far enough that your lips was out of reach. "What time is it?" You bite your lip just as Sukuna makes a confused face, turning to look behind him. "It's currently 11:59. Why?" You quickly detach your body away from him, clutching your dress in your fingers, "goodbye! I'm sorry but I have to go!" You step away from him, his hand reaching out for you. "Hey wait!!" A clock starts to ring in your ears now, hurriedly making your way through the garden and back into the ballroom, Sukuna following not too far behind. When you walk past the curtains, you catch the eyes of other maidens just as Sukuna comes through who was quickly swarmed with women. "Wait- I haven't even got your name!" Uruame gets up quickly to chase after you, shoving past the swarm of women heading Sukuna's way.

"Mademoiselle!- pretty lady!-" she nearly trips over her own feet, her eyes watching your leaving figure unexpectingly run down the stairs with such speed. As you run down the stairs, one of your glass slippers fall off, growling in frustration when you have no time to make a grab for it. Uruame makes a grab for it as you dash into an extravagant carriage, "close the gates! Follow that carriage and close the goddamn gates!" Uruame shakes her head in anger, pointing towards your leaving carriage.

You all make it into a forest nearby your house before everything returned to its' original form, your 'horses' turning back into mice, your coachman turning back into your horse, your footman turning back into your dog, and your carriage turning back into a pumpkin that was now squished under your bum.

You look back to see men with large horses charging at you. You gasp before quickly moving out the way, gesturing to the rest of the animals before they got crushed like the pumpkin below that glittered with left over magic. "Oh.. I'm sorry. It seems I had forgotten about the time," you murmur, looking to your horse and dog apologetically. "But... It was so wonderful. And he was so handsome- and when we danced..- I'm sure that no man could have ever.. man," you laugh, wiping a tear. "(N/N)! (N/N)!" You look down, seeing Yuji's small clawed finger pointing at your feet. "A slipper!" "Yeah, your slipper!" Yuji and Nobara shout over each other, pointing their little fingers as they push at each other. You let out a shaky 'oh' and slip your feet out of the glass shoe, holding the delicate thing in your hands before you look up to the stars, eyes glimmering. "Oh, thank you. Thank you so much, for everything."

The King's snoring abruptly stops when he hears knocking at the door, grumbling as he gets up, rubbing the side of his face, "come in," he says urgently. Uruame breaks a sweat as she enters, quick to bow at his feet on one knee. "Uruame! So he's proposed already! Sit down, sit down," he easily lifts her up to her feet, pushing her down on a chair as she slightly frowns, clutching her monocle carefully. "But I haven't told you-" "now, now, we have much more important things to discuss. Arrangement for the wedding, special occasions, national holiday, all that sort of things."

"But Sire-" "here, have a cigar," the King grins, shoving a large cigar in Uruame's mouth that was already lit in the end. "But-" the King laughs, shoving more cigars in her suit. "Better practice to be handin' these out, eh?" He cackles, throwing his head back as Uruame stutters over her words, sweat covering almost her entire back. The king pulls out a sword, Uruame's eyes shutting tightly as she braces for pain but nothing comes. "And for you my friend, a knighthood!"

Uruame peeks an eye open, clutching the hem of her suit. "I hereby dub you Lady... Err- uh.. By the way, what title would you like?" Uruame swallows her saliva thickly, ignoring his question, "sire, she got away." "Well if that would be your title-.. she WHAT?!" The King shakes in anger, his face quite literally turning into a deep shade of red. "Why you- you little imbecile!" Uruame backs up on her feet as the King steps towards her, raising his sword, "b-but sire- remember! Y-you're sick! Your blood pressure!"

"Treason!" He swings down his sword, cutting Uruame's cigar in half. She blinks, gasping just as she crawls backwards, getting up to hide behind the chair she was on. "N-no sire!-" "sabotage! You were in league with the prince all along!" "No sire- I did try to stop her! But- but she vanished into thin air!" "A likely story!" He swings his sword at her, quickly scrambling under and through a table just before he cuts it in half. She quickly jumps onto his bed, jumping as high as he can as he swings at her. They both look like children. "He loves her Sire! The only thing left of her is this slipper! He won't rest until he finds her!" The King's eyes slightly widen at her words but continues to swing, "what did you say?"

"The prince, Sire! Swears he'll marry none but the girl who fits this slipper!" She lands on her back on his bed, the King landing along with her, his large feet planted at her sides. "He said that, did he?" He grins, snatching the glass slipper before smooching it like it was his mother's cheek. "Jackpot!" "But Sire- this slipper may fit any number of girls. Especially in Shibuya!"

"That's his problem- he gave his words, we'll hold him to it," the King hops off the bed, throwing the sword to the side and the slipper on the bed as he walks off. "Nuh uh, I'll have nothing to do with it," Uruame crosses her arms, her usual stoic expression back on her face. He picks up the sword again to lift up the glass slipper, gliding past Uruame's face. "You will try this on every maiden in the kingdom. And if the shoe fits," the King lowers the sword to her throat, "bring her in." "Y-yes.. your majesty," Uruame gulps.

"The prince?" You mutter as your mouth goes dry, accidentally dropping the tray of breakfast on the floor. "Oh you!- you clumsy little fool! Clean up that mess. And help my daughters dress up," your step-mother ushers, pulling the blanket off her daughters that was still in sleeping wear. "If he's in love with that girl, why should we even bother?" Mei pulls the blanket over her and Yorozu again, butts sticking up as their mother roughly snatches the blanket, both of them looking at her in surprise. "Listen to me! There's still a chance that one of you could get in," their mother explains urgently, nodding her head towards where you assumed the palace was. "What?" They say in unison. "One of us?" They turn to each other, blinking.

"Why mother, what do you mean?-" "just this.. No one, not even the prince, knows who that girl is," she explains thoroughly. "We know, we know! (N/N)! (N/-" Yuji quickly gets cut off by Megumi's punch, a frown displayed on his furry face. "The glass slipper is their only clue. Now, the Duchess has been ordered to try it on every girl in the kingdom. And if one can be found if the slipper fits, by the kings command: that girl shall be the Prince's bride."

"His.. bride," you breathe out under a whisper, processing the information. Your step-sisters were quick to process the information though, demanding for you to quickly get them ready and prepped, rushing out of the bed and such. They grab clothes across the room that was laid all over the place, placing it in your arms as you stare off into space, a loving grin on your features as you reminisce your last night interactions with the prince.

"What's the matter with you?!" "Wake up stupid!" "We gotta get dressed!" You blink at them before you look down at your own clothes, your work clothes worn out and covered in dirt and stains. "Dressed.. Yes, I've got to get dressed. It wouldn't do for the Duchess to see me like this.." You set down the pile of dresses and clothes down in Yorozu's arms.

"Mother did you see what she did to me?!" "Mother, are you just gonna let her do this?!" Your step-mother raises a hand at them, "silence." She glares at your back, squinting close to your figure as you sway your way down the hall, humming the same tune as you were the night before. As you go to your room, you quickly undid your hair and start to brush it, singing the tune more louder. Chose lifts up Yuji on his shoulders as Megumi and Nobara stand next to each other, all four shouting at you. "Hm? What?" Your eyes widen just as you look up in the mirror, gasping when you see your step-mother's reflection. "Oh no!" You turn to run to the door, pulling the handle and shaking it. "You can't- I- shit! You can't do this! Oh, let me out!" You cry out, tears starting to form quickly. "You must let me out! You can't keep me in here! Oh.. Oh please," you sob, sliding down your door as you weakly punch it.

Yuji and Megumi hide inside a tea cup, whispering to each other as they plan on how they get the key from your step-mother's pocket. They climb over it and crawl their way over, Yuji slightly pulling on Megumi's tail when he falls into the pocket. Megumi musters up his tiny strength and lifts up the key, Yuji reaching for it as it pokes out. Your step-mother looks up at the stairs just before she starts to reach in her pocket. Yuji jumps, shaking his head profusely as he pushes the key back down in the pocket, a hand going inside to grip the key and going outside the pocket to pat against it. Megumi rubs his head, silently growling under his breath. "Damn old lady," he mutters.

"You must be quite fatigue, your grace. May we all drink some tea?" Your step-mother suggests as Uruame sits herself down on a chair, clearly exhausted. Kenjaku nearly pours a drop of tea that Yuji was in, who was sucking in his stomach when it came too close. "No thank you, ma'am. But we must proceed with the search," Uruame slowly blinks, her monocle falling off her face. She nods politely before gesturing to her daughter, Yorozu. "Yorozu, dear," she says tenderly, grinning when the servant holds the glass slipper right under Yorozu's foot. The servant slips it in, clapping in delight when he sees it fit. Or as he thought. He lifts up her foot, revealing her long slender foot that the glass slipper barely fit in. It seems her dress was covering most of her foot.

The servant's toupee nearly jumps out, clearly shook. "Oh! It- it may be a trugle snug, y'know!? Dancin' all night and all.. I can't understand why of course! It- it always fit perfect before!" The servant tries his best to shove her foot in the glass slipper, Yorozu chuckling awkwardly.

Yuji reaches over for the key, Megumi trying to push it towards his reach as he tries his own attempt to climb out the pocket. Yuji lets out a squeak of pain, both of them dropping to the ground, sliding off your step-mother's dress. "Now c'mon, Yuji! Up the stairs! Now!" They lift up the key, only making it by a few steps. "Boy, do we have a long way to go," Yuji complains, frowning when he looks up. "Oh come on! We gotta help her, now quick! They're already moving to Mei!"

You sob and cling to the door, hearing soft patter draw in closer to the sound of your ears, peering your teary eyes through the key hole. You gasp and cry in relief, "you got the key! My goodness! Thank you, thank you so much!" Megumi slides under your door but before Yuji ever can, Mahito comes in and traps him with a bowl. "Oh! Mahito! Let him go!" Mahito tilts his head to the sound of your voice at the other side of the door, letting out hisses of laughter, his tongue rolling over his fangs. Megumi quickly rushes back out the door, grabbing Mahito's tail, biting it as hard as he can. Mahito jumps, hair spiking up as he grabs his tail. He quickly puts the bowl over Yuji again.

More mice start to charge at him with forks before getting flicked away by Mahito's paws, a grin plastered on his furry face. A candle comes towards him which he easily blows out. Birds come in to throw unused dishes at his head which he quickly jumps up to swipe at them to a stop. "Shit.. Shit!" You panick, banging your head against the door before looking through the keyhole, "Nanami.. Get Nanami!"

The birds quickly rush over to the barn, tugging at the ears of your other dog that hazily woke up by the sound of chirping birds and the barks of Shoko beside him, Geto joining in on the bundle of sounds.

Uruame quickly catches the glass slipper with a finger, sighing in relief. "Oh, your grace, I'm dreadfully sorry. It shouldn't happen again-" "precisely, Madam," Uruame frowns at the grown woman. Nanami growls at the cat that was now cowering in fear, yowling as Nanami chases him out the window. Other mices lift up the bowl that Yuji was under, balled tightly into himself while clutching the key. "Itadori, c'mon!" Yuji shakes his head before Megumi knocks him in the head, dragging him under the door along with the key.

"You are the only ladies in the household I hope I presume?" Uruame cocks a brow tiredly, rubbing her monocle against her suit. "There's no one in the house, your grace." Uruame blinks before bowing her head lightly at the three ladies, "quite so. Good day then, good day-" she nearly walks out before getting cut off by your alarming voice, turning around just as quick as you run down the stairs, your step-family looking at you appalled. "Please wait! May I try it on?" "Pay no attention to her," your step-mother persuades, your step-sisters chiming in, "it's only (N/N)!" "Scullery!" "From the kitchen!" "Ridiculous!" "Impossible!" "She's out of her mind!" Uruame's expression lightens when she examines your feet through her monocle, a twitching smile making way to her lips. "Yes, yes- just an imaginative child!-" "Madam, my orders were 'every maiden.'"

Uruame shoves past her, gently gesturing you to come closer. "Come, my child," she takes your hand in hers as she sits you down, waving to the servant carrying the glass slipper on top of a silk purple pillow. The servant nods happily as he rushes over. Your step-mother grits her teeth, stepping her foot out as he trips over, pretending not to have seen the scene, smirking when it shatters on the ground. "N-no.. Oh no, no, no... This is.. terrible. The king.. What will he say?" Uruame mumbles in despair, getting on her knees to pick up the broken pieces. "You see if I could help-" you get cut off by Uruame's despair, "no, no. Nothing can help."

You chuckle, dipping into your apron pocket, "but you see," you smirk, looking down at her. "I have the other slipper," you pull it out and your step-mother's face goes pale, her jaw dropping nearly to the floor. Mice cheer as they watch the scene, your slipper fitting just so perfectly on your foot. Uruame nearly kisses the shoe as she stares up at you in delight, glad that she finally does not have to search all over the city anymore. And of course, that she found you, Sukuna's soon-to-be wife. Your step-sisters' go into a fit, pouting and crossing their arms to hug themselves for comfort while they stomp on the marble floor.

"Should I go get my things?" You quirk up at Uruame who rubs her monocle against her suit jacket. She blinks at you in surprise before chuckling, "there's no need. But if you please to do so, do it by all means, your Highness," she lightly bows down your way, other men in suit following her action. Your cheeks turn pink before you quickly head upstairs, checking if you wanted to bring anything. You stop rummaging through your drawer when you come across a photo of your father and your mother with little you in between them. You smile bitterly at the picture, bringing it up close to your chest. And of course, you were gonna bring the animals.

"And then- and then what else happens?" Yuji's clawed fingers tug onto Gojo's sleeves, earning a smack on the head from Megumi. "Well, of course, the wedding happens," Gojo smirks, looking back into the large book in front of him.

"Does mommy and daddy have a happy ending?" Gojo looks over to the twins with pink hair, one of them having your colored eyes and the other with red. He chuckles, patting both of their heads, "just listen, okay?"

Maidens scurry across all over the room, various of old women complimenting your features and a few others criticizing you. They made sure your dress fit perfectly and when you came out of the changing room, your beauty had all girls young and old gasping, enchanted by your beauty. "My god, you're so beautiful. Not even I looked like this when I was your age," one comments, "somebody switch our bodies!" Another goes. "You're so beautiful, your Highness," a young one pipes in. You accept the compliments and chuckle with them before the door of the room bursts open, revealing none other than Uruame who held a grumpy face. "Alright, alright, wedding's about to start. Are you guys all set?" A following of quiet 'yes's and a few nods come from all over the room, Uruame sighing when she's had her confirmation until her eyes went over to your figure. Her eyes go wide at the sight of you. "Y-your Highness..." Uruame blushes, bowing. You were wearing a big puffy dress that was as white as snow, your dress being as nearly as similar as the one you went to the ball with. Except parts of the dress had more glimmer and lace designs, especially in your corset. Flower lace designs adorn your ribs and sides, fine linen covering the part for your breasts. Of course, your dress had puffy sleeves made out of fine linen also. You were also the only one wearing white. Everyone else in the wedding was wearing either a dark red or black(which was thankfully allowed). Sukuna made sure you and him were the only one standing out. "You're ethereal," Uruame finishes, bowing once more. You blush at her compliment, draping over the veil over your face.

The King enters the room before bowing deeply, a cute and friendly smile setting onto his face, "you look lovely, miss (Y/N). Gosh- I bet my grandchildren will be beautiful-" he grunts when he feels Uruame jab him from the side, chuckling before extending his arm to you. "Let's see where this beautiful day takes us," he grins wider when you loop your arms around his, hearing sounds of music playing. Was this what it was like? To get married? You were quickly handed a slightly large bouquet of flowers, mixed in with Lilies, red and white roses, some sweet asylum flowers adorning the sides.

The place was dark-colored and yet it seemed so bright with the colors of the sun leaking through the windows and past the drapes. Everyone stood up, many gasped and was in awe at the sight of you. You realized your dress was extended a little longer from the back but you didn't mind. You liked the attention. You could hear the pounding of your heart in your ears as you stepped closer to the alter, Sukuna's figure coming more into view behind the veil. You both come to a stop before he hugs you, clutching your bouquet tightly as you turn to the alter. You couldn't really see Sukuna's face over the lace of the veil but you could see his hair. His pink hair was slightly slicked back, some of it sticking up, giving that 'bad boy' or 'she calls me daddy' vibe.

"We are gathered here today to celebrate union of these two loving beings, Sukuna Ryōmen and (Y/N) (L/N)," you nearly gasp when you recognize the voice, turning to see the same blue eyes wink at you. You smile, turning your gaze back to Sukuna. "We stand here to honor and celebrate the love shared by these two people, as they come together to start their new life in a solemn vow, surrounded by their closest family and friends," you almost cringe at that part. Because you don't have much friends or family here besides the animals. "They are enjoyed that many of you are able to join us today. As we stand here today to mark this occasion, we remember that what matters most is not the ceremony itself, but the love and companionship you will continue to share throughout your married life together. It was by chance, that Sukuna had stumbled across this woman that he now claims his own," you hear Gojo fondly say. You hear Sukuna gruff, agreeing with him. A couple of people from the side laughs, including you. "To honor the strength of love and the role it plays in our lives, Sukuna and (Y/N) have called upon two of their nearest and dearest to share readings that have moved them,

Your wedding vows are a sacred declaration of your love for each other, the foundation of your relationship as a married couple, and the life you want to build together.

Please face each other as you declare vows to one another. Sukuna, you may start." You hear Sukuna suck in a breath, watching him fumble with his gloved fingers through the veil. For Sukuna, it was like his heart was in his throat. For the first time, in front of his own people, he felt so scared. "(Y/N) (L/N)," he says in a firm voice. "When I first met you, you were the most beautiful and enticing person I have ever seen. The dance we had the night we met felt.. special, really. But at the same time, it was like you were out of reach, something I couldn't grab or have, even as a prince," he calmly says without a stutter, looking up at you. "Within every fiber of my being, am I glad to have met such a great woman. One look at you and I'm lost and I feel... vulnerable," the word 'vulnerable' coming out of his mouth had a few people from the crowd gasping quietly. More like almost a few hundred people. "I, Sukuna Ryōmen, take you, (Y/N) (L/N) to be my wedded wife. I promise to stand by your side through good and bad times, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health. I vow to stay true to you and love you unconditionally for the rest of my days." Out pops a silk pillow with two rings on it, both golden and one decorated with beautiful glimmering diamonds. Four mice are underneath it.

You let out a shaky sigh, looking up to the ceiling so tears wouldn't fall and ruin your makeup. A few people chuckle including your maidens. "(Y/N)," Gojo turns to you, his brow slightly raised. You inhale and exhale through your nose and look up at Sukuna, secretly glad your veil was covering your face. "Sukuna Ryōmen. When I first met you, I wouldn't lie and say you didn't have me scared shitless," you spat, smile wavering as Sukuna snickers, a few people gasping at the use of language while Sukuna's father chuckles at it. "But I realized you were just more than scary. You're funny and kind when you want to be. You took me away from what only I can call a nightmare, and for that, I thank you for everything. Maybe someday in our marriage, I'll get to break past your rough cold exterior," a few awes are heard throughout the crowd.

"I, (Y/N) (L/N), take you, Sukuna Ryōmen to be my wedded husband. I promise to stand by your side through good and bad times, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health. I vow to stay true to you and love you unconditionally for the rest of my days," you let out a sigh from speaking all those words. Who knew vows could be so overwhelming? "Oh yeah- I forgot, before we start, does anyone have any objections?" Silence. Gojo chuckles before beckoning you both to take the rings.

"Do you, Sukuna, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?" "I do," the softest words ever to come out of Sukuna's mouth. You were sure your cheeks were as red as beetroots right now. "Do you, (Y/N), take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?" You nod, squeezing the trunk of the flower bouquet, "I do." You both slide the rings onto each other's fingers, smiling at it adoringly when it fits perfectly. "You may now kiss the bride," Gojo triumphaly announces, watching in anticipation when Sukuna lifts up your veil. You nearly took his breath away. Before you could even blush and turn away embarrassed, he smashes his lips against yours. It became gentle quickly after that, his lips moving amongst your own. His lips were soft, demanding but soft. It felt nice. It was passionate. From that day on, you were now married to each other.

You walk down the hallway just before coming to a stop, eyes widening as you turn to peek through a door. Your eyes soften when you see your godfather with an open book, animals and your children surrounding him. You smile but it quickly fades away when you feel a hand on your shoulder, your soul almost floating away. "Woah, there. Sorry, darling," Sukuna kisses your cheek, moving his hand on your waist as his thumb caresses your side. You sigh, shaking your head before reciprocating the kiss onto his cheek, not too long until you lay a hand on your own. "I'm happy, Sukuna," you look up at him. He smiles down at you, moving to kiss you. "Eww!" You both quickly turn to see everyone staring at you through the crack of the door. Sukuna growls, moving away from you and marches into the room as you snort at the sight.

As he scolds everyone and tells them to go to bed, you smile. You could never ask for anything more than this.

A/N: was rlly fun to write, I completely made Sukuna into a softie in this one so he's not completely himself. But it's Cinderella only she can change him! 🥰

This is kind of a make up after the eternity fic.. But I still hope you enjoyed! Thank you for reading <3

If you liked this one, go check out my other works and see if you enjoy them as well! Follow and give me a note if you enjoy<3

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Tags: @sircatchungus

[hoshigray]

Could you maybe do the jjk men with a brat reader?

˚₊‧꒰ა !! BRA✮T✮AMER !! ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ | jjk men

✿꫶ ᩨkento, satoru, suguru, sukuna & toji × taming their bratty baby

contents: JJK men x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - size differences - brat taming - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (m! receiving) - manhandling - shibari; rope bondage - sex toys - impact play (p + a slapping) - Daddy kink - overstimulation - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - more stuff specified in their respective perspectives - mentions of drool/spit, pain, and tears.

word count: 3.8k

a. note: my first multi-chara post to celebrate 10k, yippeee!! lmk how i did ( •◡-)-✩

── ✿ Nanami Kento ⋮ sex in a public space; office room - thigh riding - fingering (f! receiving) - clitoral play (pressing and pinching) - orgasm denial - pet names (baby, [my] love, sweetpea).

“Taaahhh, Kentooo, more, mooore…”

All you had to do was be good, not cause too much trouble for your boyfriend in his place of work, and be patient.

So why does your man have to pull you aside to one of the offices of Jujutsu Tech to correct you?

“You’re not supposed to be enjoying yourself, love. Especially after that stunt you pulled a few minutes ago.”

Nanami pressed you against a wall, his arms caging you and a leg between yours. After a rather inappropriate display of affection, you had showcased to one of the faculty members he was speaking with–poor Ijichi–he grabbed your wrist and stormed inside to find the quietest area to deal with you. What is supposed to be a talk on your childish antics turned into…you riding his thigh?

He doesn’t know why or how it happened; one moment, he was lecturing you on how indecent your behavior was (in a school, no less!), and then he watched your attention drift downward, away from his chocolate eyes to the tan pants. Your hips slowly come to and fro, sliding your groin on the hard surface of his thigh. He catches on after the third or fourth thrust, the tone of this conversation dialing to a more intimate connotation. 

Your hands grab hold of his blazer, shaky huffs escaping your lips. “Ohhh, Kentooo,” you purr with a bitten lip. “You feel so good…”

“Is this what you wanted?” The blonde man comes to your ear to whisper and shivers crawl up your spine as you nod. He brings a hand to cup and squish your cheeks. “But explain why you were playing with my belt in front of my peers, my love?”

“Because,” you drop your head on his chest, the rhythm ace of your hips going a bit faster. “You're supposed to—Mmmm!—give me…attention.” 

“Yeah?” He chews on your ear, and a soft gasp exits your mouth. “Doesn’t mean you have to do stuff like that, honey; it makes me look bad.”

You giggled. “You know how much I love to see your reactions, babe. It’s funny—Eeyaah!”

“Well, I’m not laughing,” Nanami’s hand glided down to your skirt, lifting it to touch your groin covered by underwear, and it’s not surprising to feel a damp spot getting wetter. “I’ve told you multiple times to be patient.”

“I…I–I can’t help it!” He shushes you as your voice gets a bit louder, but that’s expected when his thick fingers press hard on your clit. “Whenever I’m with you, I want to be the—fuck—the only thing you care about…”

Nanami kisses your cheek faintly, and you melt to the kiss as his fingers slither inside your panties. “You know I always care about you,” his middle finger teasing your labia and getting covered by your slick. “And when it’s just us two, I always know how to treat you right, huh?”

“Yessss,” you sigh heavenly; the feel of his digit teasing your entrance have you giddy, and his thumb brushing and pressing up on your clit makes you jitter. “Ohhh, Ken, right there…”

“What’s that, sweetpea?” He gently pinches your bud with his thumb and fore, and you grip his blazer as reins. “Want me to care for my baby like I know how?” You slam your lips onto his; he groans and permits the kiss, sucking on your tongue while his fingers curl and erupt moans of pleasure for him to drink. You separate to pant heavily, and he says: “Tell me, my love.”

Oh, God, yes! The bucks of your hips get faster. “Yess, pleaseee…!”

He huffs with a tiny smile. “Well, not right now.”

….Huh?

Nanami removes his fingers from your skirt and immediately removes himself from you, wiping your essence with his tongue and handkerchief. “Like I said, you must be patient to get what you want.”

Wait, huh?!? “W-Wait a minute, we were,” you watch him walk to the office door. “Just getting…started.”

“I know; I gave you a small taste of what’s to come after my meeting,” he opens the sliding door. “Until then, stay here and be good like I told you.”

“Hold on—Kento, stop!” Before he leaves, Nanami gives you a smirk, a tiny sign of victory on his part. And with the close of the door, you groan out loud for all the people of the school to hear.

── ✿ Gojō Satoru ⋮ oral (f! receiving) - fingering (f! receiving) - clitoral play (licking + sucking) - multiple orgasms - overstimulation - pet names (angel, baby, princess, sweetie) - mention of drool/spit.

“Haaaahshiiiit! Ahhhh, ‘Toruuu, shtop iiiit!!”

“Mmphaa—fucking God, you taste so fucking good, angel.”

Gojo is just as childish as you—don’t let the height and the intimidating aura fool you, motherfucker is a literal overgrown child. When he needs to be serious, he will deliver as the strongest sorcerer of the modern era, and his confidence and indestructible arrogance are what aid him in flying through his enemies or people who wrongfully think they can try to control him.

And that also goes for you, his little cute brat of a crybaby.

“Sat’ruuuu, don’t suck so h—Aaaahh!!”

You loved to play fire with fire with your tall boyfriend, both harboring an ego that clashes periodically. You never want to make it easy for him; he’s the strongest, after all—he should be able to handle you! For example, one thing that Gojo can’t stand when he’s with you is ignoring him. You want to get him really on his nerves? Just ignore him as best as you can! And that’s what you did, walking around your shared apartment, not coming to him when he calls or listening to music on full blast while scrolling on your phone until he snatches it off your head.

Or–and this is the best–moving away from him whenever he’s affectionate towards you. Oh, it messes with his head! He puts an arm around you? Scoot out of his reach. Wants to hold hands with you? Nonchalantly remove yours and act like you’re checking your nails. Pulling you in for a hug and kiss? Suck your teeth and put your hand on his expecting lips, and move somewhere else to really add salt to the wound.

It leaves him shellshock, gawking at your figure walking away from him—and you know his expressions must be golden. But he’s not dumb—he knows what game you’re playing. And, most certainly, two can play that game. 

“Gaahhh, nnnhh, y-yo’r tongue—Ghhhh!”

Gojo knows you’re putting him through this trivial hell for your enjoyment because he’ll come crawling right back to you for attention. And he will…and he’ll do it in a manner you hadn’t envisaged tenfold.

He pulled you by the legs on the living room couch, hearing you giggle as he stripped you off your leggings and underwear. It started small—kisses and light nibbles on your inner thighs, spreading your legs for access. You peer down to his snow-haired head, grinning in triumph as you finally get what you want.

However…there’s a catch.

Gojo’s tongue feverishly tongues you down, nestling the wet muscle in between the lips of your labia. His saliva and your come blend with the swishes of his tongue and is then sucked into his mouth. Your body quakes from the commotion of your boyfriend eating you out so ceaselessly, his nose bumping into the hood of your clitoris.

“Fuuuck, baby, you taste too good!”

 “‘Toru, stop iiit, it’s too muuuch!” You shake your head that’s pounding relentlessly. “I came three times already!”

“Ehhh, but this is what you wanted, right?” He loves the way you shudder as he licks and flicks your clit. “Wanted me to treat you like a princess, huh?”

You writhe as he blows and spits on your messy cunt, yet the hands on the back of your knees keep you aground to the couch. “Nnnmph, n–not like thisss, one was enough—I’m gonna break…!” You nearly choke on your drool as Gojo sucks on your clit roughly. “D-Don’t…! Fuuuhuhuuck…!!”

The white-headed man lifts his face to look at you, watching your expressions and wailing cries as he stuffs his fingers to please you. “Awww, what’s wrong, sweetie?” The blunt of his fingertips scraping your texture has you moaning aloud. “Think you’ll cum again?” 

You babble and nod so frantically; God, you were too adorable for him.

“Mmmm, I don’t know,” the sing-song tune meant to patronize as Gojo’s fingers go faster. “I’m still kinda hurt you avoided five of my kisses today,” he returns his face to your chasm. “But if you can cum for me five times, all is forgiven, princess~.”

“Bu–But I can’t…!” Teeth find your bottom lip to chew once he stuffs his mouth back onto you, latching his lips to slurp more of your fluids with a firm hold on your knees. “I’ll breaaaak…!”

“That’s exactly what I want!”

── ✿ Getō Suguru ⋮ shibari; rope bondage (boxtie) - fingering (f! receiving) - sex toy; clit vibrator - finger sucking - clitoral play - overstimulation - pet names (baby, pumpkin, sweetie).

Do you really think a man who raised two girls on his own doesn’t know how to handle a minx like you?

“Hahhhh, ohmyG—Mmmph! Suguru, pleaseee—“

“Shhh, quiet, baby. Or they might hear you.”

Let’s be honest with ourselves—if anything, he likes it when you try him like this.

If Gojo was overgrown child #1, then Geto is second in proclaiming that title. However, unlike Gojo, he’s not going to come to your level and try to one-up you in your game—no, no, no; that’s not his style of play. Instead, Geto aims to bring you down from your high horse and humble you.

You experience it firsthand after trying to badmouth him earlier, calling him some stupid nicknames that aren’t appropriate for his cult members to hear, doing or going places you were told not to, or whining at him for attending to his activities rather than spending time with you as he promised. You are supposed to be his top priority, and, to your dismay, you are not being top prioritized now. Hmph! 

Of course, Geto is witness to your little tantrum, letting your childish nature reign supreme until he has the availability to deal with you. And when he does deals with you—

“Ughhh!! Fffshiiit, d-don’t doo that!!”

He deals with you.

Now you’re in his quarters, stripped from your flared mini-skirt and your hands tied behind your back with shibari rope. Your back to his chest, vulnerable to him as he gropes your chest with one hand, the other in between your spread legs, fingers playing with your leaking cunt. Fingertips rub on surfaces you can’t reach, and you can’t help but release your cries.

He chuckles as you writhe from the rough tweeze of your nipple. “You’re such a handful, you know that?” His hand leaves your shirt to toy with the blindfold that shields your eyes. “Just can’t behave and make things easier for me, can you?” 

“Mmmm—ohhshiiit,” you throw your head after a curl to your upper vaginal wall. “…J-Just because you tell me to do something, doesn’t mean I’ll—ohhh!—do it…!”

“And you wonder why you’re in this predicament.” Geto then grabs the small remote sitting idly by his side, presses a button, and the moan you let out grows predictably louder. “Woah, that’s a nice sound!”

The vibrator that’s held by your panties stimulates the sensitivity of your clitoris, having you gasp and wail from the intensity and your legs wanting to close. This is impossible as Geto’s ankles keep your feet apart; your feeble attempts to squirm out of his proximity only farce him. “Don’t try and run now, sweetie. Gotta stay still to correct your behavior.”

“—Nnnaaa, ahaha, correct me?” You titter in pants, moving your face to peer at your lover with innocent doe eyes. “You wouldn’t punish…me, your sweet babygirl, right?” 

The narrowness of his violent eyes, paired with the broad smirk, has you clamping onto his digits like crazy. Geto sighs as he removes his hand from your aching slit, your fluids coating his slender fingers before she shoves them inside your mouth. “Look at you trying to act sweet now,” you lather his fingers with your tongue, sucking on them and tasting your excess come. “We haven’t even gotten to the real punishment yet, but you’re already crying.”

Your hips sway voluntarily, your ass purposely grinding on his groin. “D-Do it, then! I’m not scared—Daaah!!” Geto removes his hand from your lips to travel back down, pressing on your panties to have the vibrating clit toy overwhelm your senses.

“Heh, bet you can’t even last five minutes in, pumpkin.” He grinds the vibrator on your clit more.

“Nnmph! Make that ten!”

He scoffs. “We’ll see.”

── ✿ Ryōmen Sukuna ⋮ size difference (true form! kuna) - double penetration; anal and vaginal - eagle position - degradation - clitoral play (pinching) - impact play; pussy slaps - choking - unprotected sex - pet names (little toy, pet) - mention of pain and tears.

“—Haahhh, fuuuck—Aaaaht!”

“Shut the fuck up, little shit. You even scream like a fuck toy.”

Oh, to be a brat to the King of Curses. Indeed, you have a death wish.

Not only is Sukuna the powerful curse user of Jujutsu history, but he is also the most selfish, egotistical, and vilest man ever to walk on this Earth. People and curses around him know better than to challenge his standing, knowing that they’d end up in minced pieces or beheaded in their first step. It is that fearful respect that Sukuna feeds on, besides cutting down on those who absurdly test him.

And you, his little consort, tested him the worst of all.

One thing that Sukuna fancies about you is your independence; it’s the thing that had him curious about you in the first place—it beats someone clinging onto him and seeking comfort in his personal space. The problem, however, is how that said independence has its faults. For his life, no one in this rotating globe has found joy in pushing the giant cursed man’s buttons other than you. In his philosophy, when Sukuna commands–never asks–to do something, nothing is expected outside of doing simply that. 

He does not expect the “Nah, don’t wanna”s, the “I’m busy, ask someone else,” or worse: “Ever heard of please, big buy? Oh! Better yet, how about begging me to do it~?”

Infuriating is the best word to describe having to deal with you. Your only saving grace is that he treasures and finds use in your presence; if not, your blood would be seeping down to the bedrock.

…However, that doesn’t mean he won’t pin you down and teach you a lesson if necessary. After all, he eats people for less.

So here you were, back on the futon while your legs were propped up by Sukuna’s upper arms, all of your clothes scattered around the tatami flooring surrounding the room, and sweat decorating your hot skin. 

Your hands find purchase on his massive thighs as he bullies one of his fat cocks into your asshole; the sheer girth of him is enough for your eyes to run for the ceiling. “Daaahh, hooohshit, i’m ‘o fuuull…!”

“Hmph,” the four-eyed man scoffs at your comment, watching your expression contort to pitiful euphoria. “Fucking pet, the only thing you can think about is dick.” He slams his hips, roughly smacking your ass and scraping the walls of your rear channel with the tip of his cock. “Too stubborn to even follow what I tell you to do.”

The mouth of his stomach licks your tummy. “Mmmm, w-who pulled your pants up a notch?” You dare flash a smile at him during this, yet it withers away when the forefinger and thumb of his lower left hand find your clitoris and give it a pinch.

“Still got enough spark to talk back, huh?” The digits roughly squeeze your sensitive bud and only have you screaming louder and your anus puckering on his length tighter. “Hnngh...Just doing things I tell you when you want to,” another snap of his hips causes a howl, along with another nip to your clit. “But when it comes to this, you’re a real submissive tool, hmm?... Oi, I’m talking to you.” 

Sukuna slaps your cunt—and he slaps it hard—the impact has your eyes shot wide and cry out from the pain flourishing. “Nnnfff! F-Fuck…I only listen to you when it benefits me!”

“You never listen to me.”

You giggle wickedly with tearful eyes. “That’s the point.”

Maroon orbs narrow with the growth of an evil grin. “Fucking whore,” you earned yourself another smack of the palm on your chasm. 

“—Ffffuuhuuck!!” Your head is thrown back to the sole pillow you lay on, your small frame overshadowed by his gigantic size. “I’m so clooose…gonna cuuum…”

Another slap. “What makes you think I’d let you cum?”

Your face returns to look at him with a bitten lip, eyes fierce yet playful. “Because I fucking said I so!” Oh, fuck did that reply tickle something in Sukuna, a guttural chuckle sneaking up on him. 

He switches his upper right arm with the lower right to grab your neck. Your tiny fingers come to his wrist as the crook of his thumb is enough to add weight to your windpipe, yet your hazy smile refuses to leave your face. “Your say so means nothing to me. You will cum when I say so, little toy. Is that clear?” 

Your resilience is still present in your eyes, but you’re smart enough to know you should comply. You nod slowly, and the grip on your throat loosens a bit. Sukuna then silently moves his lower left hand to guide the top of his dual cock, kissing your aching folds. The hand on your throat grabs for your cheeks to keep your face on him—he likes to watch what happens once he inserts inside you. Your eyes roll with tears striking down, your mouth goes agape to the push of his cockhead, and the silent shriek at the addition of his second cock nestling within you all has him snicker malevolently.

“Pathetic.”

── ✿ Fushiguro Tōji ⋮ manhandling - restricted movement - oral (m! receiving) - Daddy kink - backshots/leapfrog position - impact play; spanking - unprotected sex - pet names (baby, babygirl, mama) - cervix-fucking - creampies - mention of pain and spit/drool.

“Ohhh! Ohh! D-Daddy, it huuurts—Shaaaah!!”

“Gonna keep hurtin’ more if you don’t quit squirmin’ like that.”

Toji is one motherfucker who knows how to deal with brats; like Sukuna, he gets a kick out of it. So, someone like you who likes to cross a line with him? He’s just waiting for you to give him the chance.

That chance came today when you really wanted to try him. You always had a big mouth on you—something that humored the older man more frequently than not. Walking up and down saying shit that tries to tick him off because, he knows, that’s what you want: to get a rise out of him. And sometimes he’d brush it off, not buying into your bullshit or saying, “Don’t talk big unless y’re tryin’ to learn.” 

Nevertheless, there are times when that big mouth of yours felt like you did want to learn. You opened your mouth earlier, telling how you’d take whatever hell he’d give you without problem. The first sign was a single eyebrow raised as he sipped his coffee, yet you still pushed on, giving him the rundown on how you were ready. He scoffed and retorted. “No, y’re not.” His nonchalant tone sparked you to keep pressing him on, only for him to send a tiny glare. “I’m tellin’ you; y’re not ready.”

But you never knew when to quit, giving your signature smug grin as you walked towards him. “Why, too scared? Don’t think I can handle you?” He says nothing, letting you dig your own grave. “Guess I should find a real man who isn’t afraid to prove me wrong.”

It wouldn’t be befitting as your partner for him not to take the bait. If there’s one thing Toji loves to do, it’s screwing that humble lesson into your thick skull…with the help of his cock. 

Toji smacks your bare ass harshly, erupting a sharp cry from your drooling lips. “C’mon, baby, what happened to that bigass ego of y’rs?”

So…fucking big! It was borderline embarrassing–pathetically so–to act like this. You were going through the absolute most you swore you could handle. Now, you’re stuffing your face into the pillow, your arms pulled to your back and caught by your wrists by a firm hand, ass propped up for Toji to roughly play and plow with.

His girth was surreal; the stretch was beyond words to describe and overwhelming to experience. You mouth seeping incoherent words that can’t be pieced together. Toes curl as the girthy limb in your chasm stretches you out like crazy. And your eyes water from yet another slap on your ass, Toji’s fingernails pinching the skin. “Ghh—ahhaaa, shtoop iiiit!”

“Shtooop iiiit,” he mocks with a dark snicker. “Stop what? Y’re the one who wanted this, right?” He pistons hard, and the raunchy sound of skin smacking onto skin fills the room. The white come that slides out with every push decorated his dick with a white, soapy ring. “Wanted to be filled to the brim and smack around like a bitch in heat, huh, babygirl?”

“Daddyyyy,” you wail, spit rolling out your puffy lips. “T’oo muuuch! I-I can’t take it…!”

“Oh no, we’re way past tapping out now, mama.” Toji’s hips go erratic, and the hold on your wrists grows tighter. “Told you, don’t talk big game if y’re just gonna cry and act like a baby.”

Fuuuck, I can’t!! The hot pain stings your asscheeks, getting worse with every snap of his pelvis. Toji was too much, stretching your velvety walls so badly yet ecstatically good, bringing your face up with just his fingers pulling your mouth and jackhammering his girth so deep inside you. You hiccup to every graze of your G-spot, sounding so dumb with how you’re squealing.

“OhhhhJesus, Daddy, please, I’m sorry,” you plead; that’s all you could do while being fucked out of your mind like a toy. More spanks to your butt threaten more tears to fall off your face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!!“

“Hmmph, if y’re so sorry, why ya clenchin’ me so tight, huh?” His hand releases your wrists, adding more of his weight on you by pinning you down by the shoulders. The move creates more babbles to escape your mouth and your brain to go mush. “Y’re not sorry f’r shit!”

And to tell the truth, Toji was right. He’s so good at making your body feel good that this had you at an all-time high, your gummy walls contracting around him as you grip the satin sheets in euphoria. Shivers crawl through your frame as he pokes your womb with accuracy, words sputtering in an obscure fashion.

“Hoooohshiiit, fuuck, I-I’m, I’mmm…!!” There’s no room for you to warn him; he doesn’t give you that chance. He pushes your face to the pillow as he keeps pounding you until he reaches climax, spilling his semen into you for the third time that night. But he doesn’t stop until you get off your high, jabbing your cervix so that it has your head battering like a storm. Finally, you let loose and succumb to your orgasm, your vagina clamping onto him as you experience the most Earth-shattering shocks of your life. 

Toji hisses with a deep sigh, finally allowing his waist to rest and slowly removing his length out of your quaking figure. But he doesn’t permit you the 

same courtesy, grabbing you by the scruff of your neck to slap his dick on your cheek. “Suck it clean.”

Your visage, in a complete haze, come slides out of your cunt and messes up the sheets beneath you. Yet, you titter with an aimless smile and take in his cock with a hum. 

“That’s it, mama, atta girl.”

© HOSHIGRAY2024 ✮ reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ⊹ header art by hyocorou + dividers by @cafekitsune.

[kamitv]

▷ What You Need

Sypnosis . In which your dad, who’s worked closely with jujutsu sorcerers his entire life, finally allows you to meet his best friend— who’s half-curse, half-human, and 100% your type. / Pairing . dbf!Choso x fem!reader / Content . afab!reader, age gap (reader is 20 & Choso is like 150 lol), jjk au, pet names (baby, princess, sweetheart, etc), dry humping, teasing, reader’s pretty blunt, dirty talk, Choso is so soft with the reader, heavy tension, filth, pussy slapping, squirting, creampie, semi-soft sex, semi-rough sex, overstim, etc . / wc . 10k (heh..)

A/N: I can’t even explain where this idea came from. Just know I was listening to ‘What You Need’ by The Weeknd & then my mind went from there. If you have Daddy issues, you’re welcome. [MDNI]

You wanted to fuck him.

Plain and simple, straight to the point, your first impression of your father’s best friend was that you wanted to have sex with him. Unfortunately for you, the problem with such fantasies was that you had a boyfriend at the time.

A really really shitty one but, still. You were in a relationship when you first met Choso. And you remember meeting the man so clearly too— partially because you ran right into him, and also because one conversation with him had you forgetting your sorry excuse of a boyfriend’s name.

——

You were yawning as you glided down the flight of stairs of your home with your phone in your hand, the smell of coffee simmering into your nose, and a deep unfamiliar voice heard coming from your kitchen.

And to think you nearly regret coming home to your father’s estate for the summer. You’d left all your friends in the city just to come out to the countryside and spend time with your parents. More specifically, your father.

The first week home you were bored out of your mind. The most exciting part of your day would be a lengthy phone call with your best friend about whatever drama you’d missed out on while you were out of town. 

Your mother was out on a business trip and your father spent most days holed up in his office despite pleading for you to spend the summer home. The days dragged on and the hours felt endless.

Up until a rather particular Friday morning.

Time and time again over the years, your father had always mentioned one name when it came to his friends; Choso Kamo, his best friend. For whatever work-related reason, your dad always told you that you weren’t allowed to meet the guy. And yet, something had changed— apparently, the man needed a place to stay for a few months.

And yeah, sometime throughout Thursday night you briefly remember talking to your father about meeting the mysterious ‘Choso Kamo’ the next day but, you didn’t expect to run into the guy first thing that following morning.

Standing in the middle of your kitchen as you’d carelessly waltzed in, large hands latching onto your waist from the initial contact of your forehead meeting his chest, and husky deep tone hitting your ears with a sexy, “Woah,” The man uttered, causing your body to tense up from head to toe, “Careful, sweetheart.”

His voice was heavy in such a low purr, prompting a chill to slip down your spine before you angled your head up to look at the source of such a tone. An immediate lump was caught in your throat and you think you forgot how to speak properly because you’re blurting out a startled little curse before you even realize it.

“Sorry I-, damn.” You breathe out in reaction to the man in front of you.

His hands, which you’re only just now realizing are at your sides, are steady to leave you after assuring you’re not going to fall forward. The deepest set of dewy brown eyes settle on your face and you think you’re in love. Dark bags from lack of sleep weigh sexily beneath his low-lidded eyes, a jet black shade of ink is printed across the bridge of his nose, not a single blemish in sight, and a sweet yet masculine scent rushes into your nose all at once.

It was as though God decided to deliver an angel directly to you in the form of a very very attractive man— only thoughts of sin clouding your mind as he tips his head to the side and studies your face carefully, the messy strands of hair at his forehead swaying slightly with his little movement.

And then this man, whose skin noticeably has a deep red undertone, has the nerve to smirk at you. Pretty plump rose-tinted lips curve so suavely that you’re staring way harder than you meant to and watching his mouth move as he says something to you once more.

Although, you don’t hear a thing he says. You’re in a daze, stuck staring so rudely at his lips and how perfect they appear until your name is said. 

You flinch and lift your gaze to meet his, “H-Huh?” You stammer, getting flustered all over again by the intense eye contact.

He lets out the softest little chuckle and you can feel your heart swooning, “I asked if you were alright,” The brunette repeats for you, studying your eyes closely, “You walked right into me so…”

“I-I’m fine,” You stutter before clearing your throat and taking a slight step back to gather yourself. That rich scent of cologne oozing off of his body was making you dizzy with desire, “Sorry for walking into you.”

That smile on his face only seems to grow softer, “It’s alright,” He says, soon extending a hand out to you, “I’m sure your father wanted to introduce us to one another but, this works too. I’m Choso-“

“Kamo,” You finish for him as you meet his hand with your own, shaking it firmly, “I-, wait,” You can finally feel the thumping of your heart settling down— meaning you can return to a proper reaction to that information, “You’re my dad’s best friend?”

Choso gives you a little nod, “I am,” He hums before eyeing you up and down, “And you’re…” His eyes freeze somewhere for a split second but then he’s snapping them back up to your face, “A lot older than I thought.”

Your brows pinch together, “I’m sorry? How old did my dad say I was?”

“That’s the thing, he didn’t say at all. I just assumed you were a little girl,” He admits, finally retracting his hand from yours after becoming overly aware of the way your thumb was slipping across his knuckles while you shook his hand. “And as we can see,” He lets off a little scoff, “You’re far from that.”

The way your eyes widen at that has him rushing to correct himself.

“Well, n-not that that’s a bad thing, I just-, I mean, you’re a grown woman and I wasn’t expecting that,” Choso manages out quickly.

Then you’re chuckling and it’s like a sweet melody to his ears, his entire facial expression simmering to a look of ease. “It’s okay, I know what you meant,” You tell him, flashing the prettiest smile he thinks he’s ever set his eyes on, “After all, I was expecting an old wrinkly man but no, Dad brings home some 6ft sex symbol with tatts.”

His brows meet for a second as he bats his lashes at you as if to see if you were gonna realize what you just said. Little did he know, you’re aware of what you said and you meant every syllable— boldly making your attraction to him known from the very beginning.

And maybe that was where it all started. Maybe that was the calm before the storm of whatever it is you’d call the things you and Choso experience over the remainder of the summer.

Because after that little encounter, you and Choso get along a little too well. 

——

The first day was a breeze. After getting friendly with one another in the kitchen, you were sure to skip over to your father’s office and inform him of having already met his best friend so he wouldn’t try to awkwardly introduce you two later.

Your dad made sure to ask you how you felt about his best friend staying there for a few months— to which you explained that you didn’t care too much, you’d be leaving back to the city for school again in like a month and a half so who cares?

That, and why on earth would you complain about that sexy curse living just down the hall from you?? Which was another thing in itself, you were aware of what he was, your dad briefly explained it to you before which is all the more reason why you expected some old wrinkly person.

As such, you needed to express your infatuation to someone as soon as possible. And what better victim than your best friend back in the city? 

Now laying on your stomach across your old bed, your legs swing back and forth in the air as you thoughtlessly chat it up with your friend, “No, you don’t get it. He’s sooo hot,” You exclaim for like the millionth time since the call connected.

She chuckles from the other end, “Girl, this is your sixth time reminding me within the past thirty minutes, I think I get it.”

“But you don’t,” You whine dramatically, “His eyes, they’re so pretty, the prettiest brown eyes I’ve ever seen-, ugh,” Your face drops down into one of your pillows for a second as you smile to yourself and recall the countless times you and Choso have made eye contact, “And the way he smells— like fuckin’… roses or something, but roses in the middle of a dark rainforest with-“

“Okay, okay,” Your friend laughs, “We get it. He smells good. What’s next? You’re gonna tell me about how you want this guy, who’s probably in his forties, to fuck you on the nearest surface as soon as possible-“

“Yes,” You huff, “Yes, I do. I want him to fuckin’ ruin me.”

The sound of your friend scoffing can be heard, “Uh, I think you’re forgetting something.”

Your face scrunches up, “What?”

“You have a boyfriend,” She scarcely reminds you, her tone light and gentle with you.

To which you roll your eyes, “Oh whatever. You mean the same ‘boyfriend’ who cheated on me two months ago? The same asshole who I’ve given chance after chance even though he treats me like shit? The ‘boyfriend’ who took like two hours to make me cum that one time? The guy I literally told you I’m gonna break up with soon??”

“W-Well,” She lets out a heavy sigh, “Yeah… that asshole. I know you’re leaving him soon but please don’t go fucking your dad’s best friend before you break things off with him-“

“I’m not stooping down to his level, don’t worry,” You hum softly as you flip over to lay on your back, “Though… I did consider it.”

“Seriously?” She scoffs in surprise.

You nibble on your lower lip and smirk, “You don’t get how hot Choso is.”

Your best friend chuckles, “Girl.”

“I’m jus’ saying! I can’t even think of any other guy when he’s around. He’s so…” As you continue your ramble about the small crush you’ve developed for your father’s best friend— you’re completely clueless about the man having heard almost everything.

Choso wasn’t spying on you or anything, he was simply walking down the hall and happened to hear a thing or two since your door was left cracked open. And sure, he took the slightest peak inside to spot you resting atop your bed but he was about to walk away until he heard you describing him.

Of course he was inclined to stop and listen to you ramble about his appearance— he thought it was cute. He’d seen how you’ve been looking at him anyway, he’s not dumb.

The problem is that you’re his best friend’s daughter. The last thing he should be doing is taking any kind of romantic or sexual interest in you. You were off-limits in his mind.

Or at least, you’re supposed to be.

——

But God do you make things difficult.

You and Choso share your small interactions in the morning usually, asking each other how you slept and whatnot, basically making casual small talk every morning. You learn more and more about the man, asking him questions about what it’s like being half-curse and half-human, questions about his cursed technique and the things he can do.

Most of which he waters down for you since, even though your father’s a part of the jujutsu sorcery world, you aren’t. You know a few basic things like how cursed energy works but that’s about it so Choso keeps his answers to you very simple.

That aside, you are a goddamn enigma to Choso. He’s always caught between wanting to stare at you for hours on end and knowing he shouldn’t have his eyes on you for longer than five minutes because then his mind’s drifting elsewhere.

But again, you make it so fucking difficult.

One hot Tuesday morning, Choso notices he hadn’t run into you in the spacey kitchen of your father’s estate yet. He was busy making the same coffee he prepares daily, wondering what time you were gonna make your way downstairs. He can’t lie to himself, he has grown quite attached to your little morning talks with him.

Tapping his fingers across the counter as he watches his coffee brew, his ears suddenly perk up at the sound of a splash. Lifting his attention, Choso glances back over his shoulder to the direction of which the sound came from— looking out the large sliding glass door that leads out to the pool and wondering if your father was out there or something.

To his everloving surprise, the source of that sound is anything but your dad. It’s actually you, swimming around peacefully until you’re floating toward the edge of the pool, right in Choso’s line of vision as you lift yourself up.

Everything moves in slow motion like some cliche film, Choso’s eyes widening at the water rolling down your body and the goddamn bikini you have on. Holding yourself up on the edge of the pool, not yet exiting the small body of water yet, Choso finds himself studying every inch of you (that’s visible at least).

And then, as you finally push up, there’s that natural arch in your back that has Choso swallowing-, no, gulping down something thick in his throat. His lips are parting and he’s letting out a breath of air he didn’t realize he was keeping in as he watches those small droplets of water glide down along your glistening wet skin. 

And fuck when you’re out of the water and you lift your arms into the air to stretch, your body on full display to the man— slick with water, exposed skin sparkling beneath the morning sunlight, and that bikini leaving hardly anything to the imagination.

Choso has to physically fight himself to rip his eyes off of you, turning back to the coffee in front of him and clearing his throat. The image of you in that bathing suit is doing wonders for these wandering thoughts he’d been trying to avoid. You were so wet— literally soaked before his very greedy eyes, your entire body dripping in sex appeal, and the sight of you like that steadily rushing heat down to his c-

The sound of the sliding door opening makes Choso flinch like crazy. He lets out a little huff and glances back to see you with a towel now wrapped around your waist.

Your tits were sitting so prettily in that bright red bikini top-

“Morning’ Mr. Kamo,” You greet sweetly as you enter the kitchen.

Choso gulps down his nerves, “Mornin’ princess,” He says casually whilst moving to grab his mug of coffee.

That little pet name he’d randomly picked up for you somewhere along the line makes your heart warm every time you hear it. A smile forms on your face as you approach his side and glance around his little setup for coffee making, “Aw, you didn’t make me one this time?” You say with a little pout on your face as you glance at him.

He shrugs, “Didn’t know you were up yet.” Then Choso avoids looking in your direction at all costs by turning to the other counter to grab a spoon, “What made you go for a swim this early?”

“I dunno but,” You hum, following right behind him and approaching his side once more as you watch him stir nothing into his coffee, “You should join me next time.”

He swears his entire body heats up as you say that. Just the thought of being in the pool with you, hardly clothed, swimming together, and wetting each other up makes his mind spin. “Dunno if that’s a good idea, sweetheart,” Choso says casually, as if he wasn’t having thoughts of pressing you against one of those poolsides and-

“Hm?” You bat your lashes up at him and he glances at your face for a split second before ripping his eyes off you, “Why not?”

“What would your dad think?” Choso sighs, continuing to stir nothing into his coffee as if that’ll help him forget about you standing half-naked beside him.

You scoff, “Nothing? It’s just you and me swimming together.”

Choso rolls his eyes at your innocence, “Alone,” He adds on, “Me and you swimming alone together.”

“Are we supposed to have an audience?” You tease, leaning closer to him and entering his peripheral line of vision, “Or, are you uncomfortable being alone with me?”

He freezes, slowly turning his head to look down at you, “Not at all,” Choso quickly tells you, “Being alone with you like that is just…”

Your eyes widen slightly in anticipation and he can feel his body warming again. Then, you glance off to the side innocently, “…Tempting?” You offer.

To which he answers without thinking, “Exactly.”

You part your lips to say something snarky in response but he’s moving away from you yet again. Cursing himself mentally for letting that slip. He didn’t want you to realize he was growing just as interested in you as you were him. 

Then, with perfect timing, your father comes from around the corner with his mouth wide open as he lets out a hefty yawn. 

“Mornin’ you two,” Your dad grumps as he shuffles his feet toward the fridge.

Choso had somehow made his way to the island in the middle of the kitchen already, now sitting comfortably on one of the three bar stools, his eyes low on his phone screen as he lifted his cup to his lips, “Good morning.”

Your eyes are directly on the man as you replay his response to you moments ago over and over in your brain. The nerve he had to go and sit down casually as if he didn’t just he didn’t just imply something very-

“Daughter,” Your dad sighs out, to which you snap out of your daze and glance at him.

“Father,” You hum in response.

He looks at you, sending you a kind and tired little smile, “I’ll be gone for a few days for business, you okay with that?” He asks, subtly nodding his head back at Choso and silently asking if you’re comfortable being alone for a few days with the man.

Of course, you have to physically contain your excitement— being alone with Choso means no more interruptions like what had just happened, “Yeah, that’s fine by me.” You say with a little shrug.

Your father nods at that and then tends back to the fridge to prepare himself something. You smile to yourself before tiptoeing your eyes back over to Choso, only to find his eyes already on you.

All of you, drinking in the sight of you in that damn bikini top before he boldly and directly cracks a lazy smirk and lifts his gaze to your face. You can feel a wave of heat rushing to your cheeks as he tilts his head and sends you a little wink from across the kitchen— bluntly letting you know that he’s thinking the same thing you are and your excitement is mutual.

——

Day one alone with Choso was actually really fun. The two of you spent time together in your father’s massive basement, lounging around together and even indulging in a friendly game of pool.

It was nice, comforting even, to have Choso around. He was very respectful and kind with you, subtle with flirting with you because he didn’t want the true levels of his desire to be known, and so gentle with you that it made your heart turn to mush every single time.

Day two was even better. You both finally went on that swim you offered— to which you nearly drooled when he first stripped himself of his shirt, eyeing his washboard abs that were decorated with such pretty scars from previous fights he’s had. 

The two of you just swam and talked, you’d splash him a bit every now and then and he’d splash you back whenever you uttered something way too flirtatious.

At some point you felt like that was his way of turning you down. Sure, he was interested in you but, Choso had his way of silently telling you it wasn’t gonna happen. Or at least, it shouldn’t happen.

Day three was when things changed. Well, night three specifically.

Choso was in the kitchen, where the two of you always seem to run into each other, sitting on his favorite bar stool while working on something on his laptop until he heard you coming downstairs. His ears twitched and he glanced up to see if you were coming into the kitchen a few times, noticing your steps sounded oddly determined.

When you do enter the kitchen, the enter mood shifts. Choso opens his mouth to greet you since it’s past midnight and he hadn’t seen you in a few hours but he freezes when he sees the look on your face.

Flushed and fuming with emotion, your breathing unsteady and ragged as if you’d been crying, and your hands shaky as you make way for one of the wine cabinets. He almost doesn’t move. Choso sits there in shock for a minute, watching you rush to grab a glass and a bottle of alcohol at random, slamming it down on the kitchen island and moving to find something to open the bottle with.

It’s then that Choso’s standing to his feet and walking toward you, “Hey, hey,” He coos, seeing the frustration in your face as you jerk a drawer open with an upset pout on your face, “What’re you doing? What’s wrong?” Choso asks as he nears your side.

You don’t even look at him, pulling your lower lip into your mouth and biting back tears. “I-Isn’t it obvious?” You snap back in an annoyed tone, responding to his first question and first question alone as you swipe up a corkscrew out the drawer and push it shut with your hip.

Then you shuffle back over to the island where your unopened bottle and wine glass are sitting. Your hands are shaking due to the rush of adrenaline throughout your body and Choso follows your every move, standing to your left as he leans against the counter and tilts his head at you.

He carefully moves to slide the bottle of alcohol away from you, which earns him an angry glare from you. Choso only grins kindly at your expression, “Aren’t you a little too young to be drinking?” He teases.

You scoff, in no mood for his teasing right now, “Oh fuck off, I’m twenty years old.”

“I know,” He says calmly, his tone as soft and sweet as ever, “But the legal age for drinking is twenty-one, no?”

“Depends on where you live,” You huff, reaching for the bottle once more only to receive his hand being placed over yours.

You freeze and Choso tilts his head a little more, “Talk to me, pretty,” He hushes out, inching closer to your ear and furthering the softness of his deep rich voice, “What happened?”

You can feel yourself melting at the warmth his body brings as he gets closer to you, your breath hitching slightly due to his attentive curiosity, “My… My boyfriend jus’ broke up with me,” You grit out.

He can tell you’re more upset than you are saddened but either way, he wants to help you, “The asshole you told me about?”

“Uhuh,” You nod, making a small attempt to pull that bottle toward you again.

Choso smirks and his fingers weave through yours slightly before pulling your hand away and pinning it to the counter, “So talk to me about it, princess,” He hushes out, “The last thing you need is alcohol right now.”

You’re quiet for a few seconds before you sniffle, relaxing under his small touch, “Well… I just, I hate feeling like this.”

“Like what?” He whispers, carefully rubbing his thumb against the soft skin of your hand.

“I was gonna break up with him but he fucking beat me to it and now I just-, I dunno, I feel like shit,” You huff out before you slowly turn your head to look at him again.

Your eyes are all glossy and your lashes are noticeably wet, a small tear slipping down your cheek. Choso moves without thinking.

Taking his hand off of yours and bringing his palm to cup your cheek, watching you lean into his touch as he thumbs that tear of yours away, “You feel like shit?” He repeats.

Nodding against his hand, you mumble a little response, “M-Mhm.”

“I’d love to say you shouldn’t but,” His gaze kindly flicks back and forth between your left and right eyes, “I understand. Break-ups are hard.”

You pout, “They shouldn’t be. He was fucking terrible to me. I was supposed to break things off, not him. H-He doesn’t get to just do that. It’s not fair.” Your voice comes out in a slight whine at the end and he can see your eyes glossing over again.

“I know, I know,” Choso coos, bringing his other hand to your vacant cheek and cupping your face in his big hands.

“Do you?” You unintentionally huff out to him, “Have you ever even-“

He scoffs playfully, “Yes, princess. I’ve had multiple relationships in my lifetime.”

You snort, “‘In my lifetime’, you make yourself sound old as hell,” A slight grin forms on your face amist your sorrows and it makes his heart churn.

Choso’s gaze rakes over your face in his hands, “Baby, how old do you think I am?”

“I dunno,” You shrug, “You look like you’re not even a day over twenty five.”

He smirks, “Do I?”

“Mhm. How old are you?”

“A hundred ‘n fifty.”

You choke, “Holy shit, seriously??” You gape as your eyes widen in surprise.

“Yeah…” Choso trails off for a moment, tipping his head to the side, “Does that scare you?”

You almost laugh at that, “What? No, I love older men,” As you say that, there’s almost a look of bliss on your face.

To which sparks Choso’s interest as if he hadn’t picked up on that fact a long time ago, “Oh?”

“I-I mean-, wait,” You stammer, looking away from him, “N-No-, actually, yeah… I meant that.”

“Careful,” Choso says simply, “You’re gonna make me think the wrong thing if you speak like that.”

Slowly, your eyes trail back over to him and he removes his hands from your face, “Would that be so bad?” You murmur, leaning closer to him ever so slightly.

His eyes bore directly into yours, “Yes. You’re my best friend’s child.”

Your face twists up, “Yeah but I’m not literally a child.”

“I know-“

“So don’t treat me like one,” You cut off, gazing intently up into his mesmerizing brown eyes.

His look softens, “I’m sorry if I have.”

“Don’t see me as one either,” You continue, earning a light scoff from his lips.

Choso shrugs, “I don’t.”

“You don’t?” Your eyes widen slightly and the room feels so unbelievably warm right now.

“Never have,” Choso admits, licking his lips for a moment before continuing, “Even though I should be.”

Your brows furrow, “Why?”

He flashes a small smile, “I’m literally seven times your age.”

“So?”

“So this-,” He gestures between the two of you, “Whatever ‘this’ may even refer to, is horribly wrong in so many ways.”

You roll your eyes and cross your arms, “But ‘this’ isn’t anything yet.”

“Yet?” Choso echoes.

“Oh c’mon, Mr. Kamo,” You purr, “The only reason we haven’t given in to what we both want is because I had a boyfriend.”

“Choso,” He corrects, “I’ve told you to call me Choso.”

Your gaze becomes noticeably sultry as you lower your eyelids and soften your voice, “I know, sorry sir.”

“Stop that,” He huffs, glancing off to the side.

You lean toward the direction he’s looking off to and fein innocence, “Stop what, sir?”

“That.” Choso rasps, clearing his throat seconds later to collect himself.

“Why?” You urge, inching closer and boldly speaking your mind, “Does it turn you on?”

He scoffs but you see his lips twitching into a smirk, “No.”

Growing curious, your brows pinch together, “Wait, does anything turn you on?”

“Huh?” Choso breathes before looking at you.

“Like, since you’re half-curse… does that affect your bodily functions or anything? Can you even get aroused-“

He lets out a chuckle in reaction to your ignorance, “Yes, yes I can.”

“Really?” Sparkles seem to light up in your eyes and it doesn’t go unnoticed.

“I’m more human than I am curse.” He states simply.

You smirk, “Everywhere?”

“Yes, everywhere.”

“Like… even your c-“

“Yes.” He cuts off, “Now stop it.”

Your lower lip gets caught in between your teeth, “Stop what?”

“Trying to get me to have a sexual conversation with you,” Choso says in a commanding tone before taking a respectful slight step back.

“I want a lot more than just a conversation,” You whisper loud enough for him to hear.

Choso becomes cold with you in an instant, “And I don't care, it’s not happening.”

At that, there are several twinges in your heart. You grit your teeth and turn for that not-so-forgotten bottle of alcohol, quickly popping it open and pouring yourself a glass. Then, before Choso can even react, you’re gulping it down and he’s sighing in defeat.

After which, you send him an annoyed glare and he frowns softly at you, “Princess-“

“Don’t call me that.” You cut off curtly, licking the bit of liquid intoxication that rests on your lips.

His eyes flicker down for a split second, “Why? ‘Cause I won’t fuck you like you want me to?” Choso asks boldly.

“I-, yeah…” You utter, “Y-Yeah. That’s exactly why I don’t want you to call me that.”

He shakes his head softly and moves to push the bottle away from you again, “I told you alcohol isn’t what you needed.”

“What I ‘need’ won’t let me have him,” You say, pouting yet again.

Choso sighs as he returns his eyes to your face, grinning at your expression as he lifts a hand to your chin, “You don’t ‘need’ me.”

You lean into his touch instantly, “I do-“

“You want me,” Choso corrects, his gaze narrowing on your mouth as his thumb wipes up a small slip of alcohol that missed your lips.

“No” You huff, tipping your head toward his thumb and pushing your lips against the pad of it, “I need you.”

The man can feel his resistance thinning, “You need me?” He echoes lowly, his voice dropping suddenly.

“Yes, I-“

“Need me to what, exactly?” Choso’s thumb applies slight pressure to your lips before he’s parting them and feeling against your lower lip. Then, before you can even answer, he’s looking into your eyes and leaning close to you, “Hm? Need me to fuckin’ ‘ruin’ you?” He quotes.

You were too caught up in experiencing his teasing to realize he gave away the fact that he heard one of your previous phone calls, “Please?”

“Say it,” Choso whispers as his free hand slips over to your waist.

“I need-“

“Want.” He scolds, weighing your bottom lip down a bit.

You whine, “But-“

“Speak properly to me ‘nd I might give you what you want,” Choso says.

You perk up at that, “I want you to ruin me, Choso.”

He takes a deep breath and leans in, “I shouldn’t.” The man whispers to you.

Your eyes are lowering to his lips, “But you want it to,” You point out, yearning for the soon connection of his lips to yours, “I know you do.”

“You don’t know anything,” He argues.

“Choso, you’ve been undressing me with your eyes from the moment you first set them on me.” You refute in a low whisper

“I…” He trails off— refusing to deny or agree with that.

The way your arms unfold and you slowly bring your hands to his shoulders, leaning in and tilting your head, has him in a trance, “Just take me.”

He chokes, “I won’t.”

You scoff, “Then I’m turning back to my drink…”

“No. Instead,” Choso swallows thickly and retracts his hand from your face. “We can do something else.”

You miss his touch already, “Like what?”

“Watch a movie.”

“We both know exactly what that’s going to lead to.”

It’s then that he seems to finally give in, “Let it lead there then since you want it so bad.”

——

And that’s why you don’t regret coming home for the summer. Because how else would you have ended up like this?

Yeah, you and Choso watched some random movie together to get your mind off things but, just like you’d said— you both knew what it’d lead to and it did. After the movie, you find yourself asleep, all your emotions and adrenaline having caught up on you.

The thing is, you fell asleep on Choso. He was right there with you, deep in his slumber just as you were for a while. So perhaps that’s how you ended up the way you are now.

Both of you had woken up to your body right in front of Choso’s. He was laid out against the stretch of the couch, his head resting on a pillow that was propped up against the armrest of the couch. You both woke up at the same time and you were lying on your side.

He had an arm around your waist and his crotch was flush with your ass. Slowly, you turned your head back to look at him and he met your gaze intimately. Lifting his head slightly from the pillow, leaning in toward you, moving a hand to angle your head up some more, his thumb gently rubbing against your chin.

“Choso,” You whispered, earning a groggy little hum from him.

His eyes lower on your lips. So soft, they look so fucking soft. He’s always thought that but the closeness right now and the dim lighting coming from the TV was killing him, “What?” Choso whispers, “Y’still want it?”

You shake your head, “Not ‘it’ Choso, you.”

He gulps and begins to inch his face closer to yours, his breath carefully hitting your lips as he whispers to you, “You sure? Once we start… I won’t hold back.”

“Don’t want you to,” You utter, trying to lean up to him some more.

He smirks at that, “Alright…” Then his lips are practically on yours, “Jus’ remember you asked for this.”

That’s the last thing said before he’s kissing you, lightly too. Choso’s always so gentle with you as if he fears you’ll break. 

And hell, maybe after tonight you will have been broken. Because what starts out as a slow testing taste of lips, soon turns hot and needy. His tongue glides past your moist lips, eager to taste you, to feel you, to make you feel good. 

Then his hand is sliding down your body, ghosting your chest before he pulls away for a second to whisper, “Can I touch you?”

“Yeah…” You utter, trying desperately to place your lips back on his.

He smirks, “Where?”

“Everywhere, Cho. M’all yours,” You claim.

Choso groans as his lips press into yours again, his hand sliding down just to slip under your shirt and grab a very firm hold of your breast. His touch is gentle for a second but then he’s squeezing the fat of your boob in his hand, his lips slipping over yours eagerly.

He’d only pull away for air for a split second before he’s sucking on your bottom lip again, intertwining his tongue with yours, and shifting his hand under your bra to wrap his fingers around your perky nipple. He gives the sensitive bud a small little pinch to test the waters and grins at the way you whine.

“Like that?” He whispers gingerly into your mouth.

You nod and the rest of your body is simply squirming against his, his cock twitching behind the fabric of his pants at the way your ass rubs against him just right. Choso rocks his hips forward ever so slightly, pressing his erection against you and nibbling on your lower lip hungrily.

Your mouth was so damn sweet— he just couldn’t get enough. Touching all over your breasts, pinching and lightly tugging at your nipples just to feel you moan against him. Then his hands, which are just so big, simply knead your breast within his palm as his mouth slides off of yours and he begins kissing your neck.

“You’re so tense, sweetheart,” Choso whispers into your skin, his warm breath tickling your neck, “Relax f’me.”

You let out a small sigh, “I’m tryin’…”

He smiles against you, “You nervous?” Choso asks as his hand slides out of your bra and rests against your stomach.

“No,” You huff.

Then, Choso’s moving to sit up and you move with him. He slips back against the armrest of the chair, his hands going to your hips to pull you on top of his lap with your back still facing him.

Choso’s hand trails to your stomach once more as his lips near your ear, “Lean back f’me, baby.” He guides, feeling the way you do just that and rest yourself against his chest, “There you go,” God his voice had you soaked, “Lemme take care of you, princess.”

You gulp loudly at that, your breathing beyond unsteady as you comfort yourself in his lap. His chest is so firm against your back, the feeling of his heart pounding within his ribcage so vividly felt behind you— he was just as anxious and nervous as you were. Cute.

His lips meet the space just behind your ear and his hands slither around your body. Choso carefully positions his fingertips at your inner thighs, “Do I have to guide you through everything, hm?” He hums playfully.

“N-No but,” Your eyes are glued to his big veiny hands playing with the skin of your legs, “I like the way you talk me through it.”

“Yeah?” He hushes out, “Alright then, go ‘head ‘nd spread your legs for me, pretty girl.”

You’re so horny you can hardly think straight. The air feels heavy and every touch from the older man has your skin tingling and your pussy pooling. As your thighs part, Choso’s quick to move his fingers to the waistband of your shorts, teasing you by running his fingertips under it.

“Tha’s it,” He purrs, “So good f’me.”

Your hips lift involuntarily as if to force his fingertips where you want them but he moves to grip onto you. 

Choso snickers at your eagerness, “Patience, baby. I’m tryin’ to take my time with ya’,” He admits, pressing his lips into the crown of your ear, “Wanna show you what sex is supposed to feel like.”

“H-Huh?” You gape in a breathy tone, “Choso, y’know m’not a virgin, right?”

He grins, “Mhm, I know. But that doesn’t mean we can’t take things slow for a bit,” He explains lowly, steadily pulling your shorts down as you help him with small wiggles of your hips, “Plus,” His middle and ring finger inch toward your panties, lips curving into a smile at the noticeably damp red fabric, “I gotta prep you anyway.”

You scoff, “For what? Is your dick that big?”

He shrugs, running the pad of his middle finger over your clothed center lightly, “You’ll find out soon enough.” Choso promises.

Then, he’s tugging your panties to the side, biting his lip as your cunt is exposed to him. Choso’s such a tease, caressing your soaked hole but not yet pushing his fingers in, kissing the side of your neck as he taunts you until you’re whining for him.

“Cho-“

“Two hours, right?” He suddenly asks. Your brows furrow and he senses your confusion, smirking slightly, “Your ex, he took two hours to make you cum one time, no?”

“I-,” Your jaw drops slightly as Choso easily draws his finger up to your clit, tracing soft circles around it, “H-How do you know about that?”

“Heard you talkin’ about him a few weeks back,” He whispers to you, “S’kinda sad, y’know. Two hours?” As he casually converses with you, his finger is providing you with slow stimulation.

You rest your head back against his shoulder, “Uhuh… he couldn’t figure anything out.” You explain as a pout pulls at your lips.

For whatever reason, that seems to boost Choso’s ego a bit. As such, his fingers dip back down and finally start pushing into you, “Oh yeah? Bet I can make you cum in two minutes.”

A brief chuckle leaves your lips, “He said the same thing…” You huff.

To which Choso scoffs, delving his fingers deep past your folds and groaning at that slick squelch that enters the air. “He’s not me, princess. Listen to how wet this pussy is f’me already,” The man taunts as he works a careful pace inside you, “So tight too… shit.”

The first moan you let out makes his cock twitch against your ass. Your lips part and you let out heavy breaths as Choso fingers you skillfully, talking you through his every movement.

“Tell me somethin’ baby,” Choso says, pushing another finger into you and curling his fingertips upward against your gummy walls, “When’s the last time you touched yourself?”

You pant, “Hah… U-Uh, I dunno…”

“Oh c’mon, don’t lie t’me,” He scoffs. He can’t help but watch the way his fingers disappear inside your cunt, your slick coating his skin and making the most obscene noises imaginable.

“Maybe last week,” You eventually utter in response to him, words coming out all in one short breath.

His cock is felt throbbing against your ass, hips rolling up slightly for the slightest bit of friction, “Yeah? Who’d you think about when you touched yourself? Hm?” The curse asks.

“Y-You, Choso,” You admit honestly, recalling the week prior when you had the man in mind as you relieved yourself.

He lets out a throaty grunt. The thought of you touching yourself to him was making his tip drip excessively within his boxers. “Mmh. Thought about me?” Choso huffs, fingering you a bit faster now as he searches for a particular spot.

When he finds it, you moan, “Yeah.”

“Fuck…” Choso groans against your ear, “Thought about me doin’ what? This?” He emphasizes his words with a firm rub of his fingertips against your sweet spot and watching your sloppy pussy drip off of his knuckles.

“Yes Choso,” You gasp with your back arching off of him.

He bites his lip, “Anything else?”

His two thick fingers pick up in pace, pumping deeply in and out of you and earning pretty moans from your moist lips. You were losing your mind. Choso’s fingers were so damn skillful and deep inside you, dragging his touch all along your walls, and digging into your g-spot over and over again.

“I-, ah… I thought about you-,” You mumble in between your moans, “Mmgh, f-fuckin’ me.”

“Where?” He purrs, his fingers swiveling inside you and making you gasp loudly, “How? Gimme details, pretty.”

“E-Everywhere-, fuck, right there… ‘Specially the kitchen, wanted you to bend me over the counter so many times…” You whine, cunt clenching around his fingers desperately.

He places a small kiss on your cheek and whispers, “Shoulda’ said somethin’.”

“You wouldn’t have done it,” You argue through slightly gritted teeth.

As you do so, your hips are lifting to meet his fingers while they thrust inside you. Your moans become more constant, more confident even, as he explores your pussy with his two fingers.

“I might after today,” Choso hushes out before pulling his fingers out of you for a split second just to deliver your cunt with a messy little slap that has you spasming.

“Please,” You mewl, your legs threatening to close on him as he rubs his fingers over your cunt in a sloppy manner, smearing your sappy slick all over the same place and making even more of a mess of you.

“Hey, keep these thighs open,” Choso huffs, landing yet another light smack onto your pussy and watching the way you quiver and clench around nothing, “M’not done, c’mon.”

Then he’s stuffing you full of his fingers again. In and out and in and out— so melodically pressing against your g-spot and then spreading his two fingers apart inside you, invoking a gasp from your throat, “Feels so g-good Choso.”

“So keep feelin’ it then,” He smiles, “Stop runnin’ from it, baby, give it t’me.” Choso requests.

And he knows you’re getting close, he can tell by the way your pussy greedily sucks his fingers back in every time he tugs them out, the way you’re moving a hand to cling onto his arm, and then there’s your legs struggling to remain open for him.

Not that he minded anyway. Choso had no problem with forcing your legs to stay open for him, it was cute watching the way you squirmed and the constant rutt of your ass against his achingly hard dick was what made things better for him as well.

“Cho,” You whimper as your back arches off of him yet again, your toes curling when he hits this particularly sweet and juicy spot inside you.

“Gonna fuck you real good after this,” He speaks right into your ear with that deep husky tone of his, his words making your pussy clench even tighter around his digits, “Ruin ya’ jus’ like you want me to.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from whining, “Please.”

“Look at me,” Choso directs, earning a steady turn of your head. As your eyes meet his, his fingers curl against you, “There she is, such a pretty girl.” The man whispers, watching your jaw drop and listening to the moan you breathe out in response.

“S-Stop that,” You pout, batting your lashes at him.

He chuckles, “Stop what?”

“Bein’ gentle with me.”

Choso almost scoffs, his fingers digging into you, “Why? It turns you on.”

You can’t even think straight enough to respond properly— your legs trying to shut on him again and your reply coming out in a lazy, “Nuh uh…”

“You’re so cute,” The way he’s talking to you, holding you, looking at you, it made you want to just melt away.

Your body was so damn hot, you could feel a coil in the pit of your stomach as your orgasm neared. Shit, he knew how to hit every spot inside you with ease. So much so that even his palm was pressing against your clit and providing you with even more stimulation to the point where your eyes were lulling back.

“Shut-, ah, mgh-, fuck. S-Shut up,” You blurt out in between breathy moans.

Choso’s eyes lower on your expression, “You’re gettin’ close, aren’t you?”

All you can do is nod, “Uhuh..”

Then you’re losing it again, seeing stars as he moves his free hand to roll a finger over your clit raw. Choso’s voice is rough with you, “Gonna cum f’me?” He asks, and you’re nodding desperately before he lets out a lower rasp of, “Say it.”

Your eyes squeeze shut and your hands mindlessly move in an attempt to push his away so you could fucking breathe for a moment, “Oh fuck, I-I’m gonna cum.” You whine.

“For who? Say my name, baby.” Choso orders with his fingers moving in and out of your cunt faster and faster, the sounds only getting wetter and wetter.

“For you, Choso,” Your voice is hardly even there but it’s loud enough to satisfy him, “Gonna cum f’you…”

He leans in a bit and looks you dead in your eyes, slamming his fingertips deeper and deeper, “C’mon then, give it to me. Cum f’me.”

And then you are. It felt so abrupt too, as if he hadn’t been coaxing you to that point anyway. Choso’s fingers are digging in and out and in and out, his pants hitting your lips as he softly rubs his hard cock against your ass. Your legs tried to close on him but his arms wrapped around you prevented you from doing so, both of his hands firmly stroking you through it.

Then there was the eye contact, intense gaze pouring into yours as you came around his fingers with a whiny cry of his name. “Good girl,” Choso praises, “Such a good fuckin’ girl f’me— makin’ a pretty mess ‘round me like that. Think you can gimme another?”

“Choso,” You puff out, shaking your head no in response.

He just grins at you, “Jus’ one more baby, one more. Promise.”

——

That was the biggest lie you’d ever heard. ‘One more’, yeah, and then he’s asking for another, and then another, and then another.

At some point, you could hardly move because of how intense your orgasms were, making the filthiest mess around his fingers and on his hands, and grinding against his hard cock as you cried out his name for what felt like hours. Choso had you geeked, high off of your own arousal because even though you were whimpering about it being ‘too much’ your pussy was singing an entirely different song.

Literally. The sloppy squelches from your cunt made Choso so unbelievably hard. He couldn’t wait to have you on his cock, whispering in your ear about how deep inside you he’s about to be, telling you to just give him one more so he can have his way with you, and rubbing himself against you so he doesn’t lose his damn mind.

He swears he almost came in his pants from just fingering you alone, especially when he brought his drenched fingers up to his mouth and fucking tasted you. The groan he let out came straight from deep within his stomach, causing butterflies to swirl in your stomach. 

Followed by that was him sucking your juices off his skin and then moving to your ear, “You taste so fuckin’ good, baby,” Choso practically moaned before moving his fingers to your lips, “I don’t wanna be selfish with it either so, here, taste y’self f’me.”

You gradually take his fingers in your mouth and suck on them tentatively with Choso’s eyes all over your face. And you suck on his fingers so skillfully, sliding your tongue in between them, taking them deeper into your mouth and almost into your throat, and even gagging against them.

“Fuck,” Choso breathes, his cock on the verge of nearly exploding in his pants. “B-Baby…” He pants.

With his fingers still in your mouth, drool slipping down your chin, “Hm?” You hum innocently.

“If I don’t fuck you right now, I’m gonna embarrass myself.” That was his final warning to you before he was snatching his fingers from your mouth and quickly moving his hands to your hips. Choso pushes you forward slightly and he suppresses a whine, soon placing a hand on your back, “Do me a favor ‘nd bend over f’me.” He requests.

You don’t hesitate to do just that, lifting yourself off of him and then leaning your upper half down against the couch, arching your back, and parting your legs for the man. Choso felt like he could cum from the sight alone. Your pussy was on full display for him, your thighs wet with your own cum and sweat, red panties still tugged to the side, and legs spread just for him.

Then Choso moves to his knees, positioning himself behind you as he rushes his sweats and boxers down— bulging cock springing out and slapping against his abdomen. He had precum dripping from his fat tip, his veins twitching, and his entire cock hot with an aching need.

You barely look back at him for a second, only for your face to be pushed back down to the couch as he presses his leaking tip against you. Your pussy lips twitch around his thick cockhead, feeling him rub against you as Choso groans.

“Too long,” Choso whispers, “We waited too long for this.” He starts rutting his hips forward ever so slightly, teasing his tip in and out of you as he tests your tight ring of resistance. “S’gonna be a big stretch, baby,” He warns, trying his hardest not to just ram himself inside you all in one go, “Need you to relax f’me, alright?”

If anything, you wiggle your hips back against him and force more than his tip inside you, moaning against the couch cushion your face is still being pushed into. “I can take it, Cho,” You whisper, “Jus’ give it t’me, please. Fuck me.”

That’s all it takes for him to start pushing himself inside you, immediately tossing his head back at your pussy gripping onto him, and tugging him deeper inside your warm entrance so damn welcomingly. He tries to go slow as he hears you hissing at the sheer stretch his big cock causes, your fingers curling against the couch and your back arching even further.

But the way your cunt just swallows and sucks him in has him letting out the prettiest groan you’ve ever heard from a man. There’s a tinge of a whine laced within that groan of his, feeling your saturated walls squeezing around his hefty shaft has Choso panting as he pushes into you. The last thing he wanted to do was cum too early so it doesn’t take much for him to just snap his hips forward.

Ripping a moan of his name from your throat, you feel all of him poking just everywhere. Choso’s cock is so damn big and thick, curving into that syrupy spot his fingers were teasing moments before. He reaches the hilt of your cunt with ease and watches the way your legs quiver.

“Choso,” You’re practically drooling into the couch whilst he reels his hips back and eases them forward again.

He lets out a loud huff that fans over you as he leans forward a little, pressing his hands into the cushion beside your sides, “So fuckin’ tight, mgh.” He grunts from behind you, “Been holdin’ out on me, huh?” Choso suddenly comments as he tilts his head and peers down at the sexy curve of your arched back.

You shake your head stupidly, “N-Ngh.. n-no,” You murmur softly, “Been tryin’ to… mgh, give it to you…”

“Yeah?” Choso smiles while slamming his hips forward a little harder than before, “You’ve been tryin’ to give this pussy t’me?” He huffs out with a heavy thrust.

Your jaw falls open, “Uhuh, but you k-know that, Choso.”

His smile widens a bit when he recalls the countless times he rejected your advances, “Hah, maybe…” As his worlds trail off a bit, his focus goes to your ass and the sexy recoil that’s caused every time his toned pelvis meets your ass.

Everything about you was so sexy, his hand instinctively lifting to land a harsh slap on your ass. Cock plunging in harder-, deeper, you found your legs quaking with every thrust and your eyes glossing over completely.

“Ah, oh fuck-,” You choke out as his achingly hard tip narrows in on your g-spot, hammering into you mercilessly.

Choso lets out a heavy breath of air and grabs a handful of your ass, glancing down to your sloppy folds, taking his glistening cock so well over and over. Inch by bruising inch, your cunt swallowed him gratefully every time he fed it to you.

“M’not gonna last long, baby,” He soon admits to you while his eyes roll back at the way you’re clenching around him simply because of his voice alone.

You throb at that, “H-Hngh.. you gonna cum s-soon?”

Choso nods almost drunkenly, “Uhuh, been holdin’ it in.” He explains to you before grabbing a firm hold of your hips and pinpointing his hips, sharpening his thrusts, and thrashing his throbbing cockhead against your dripping pussy.

He was addicted. He didn’t even have to finish yet to know he was never going to get enough of this— enough of you. All he can do is think back on all those times he could’ve flirted with you, and could’ve brought you to this very moment sooner. 

Like that morning when you came out of the pool, Choso knows he could’ve found a moment alone with you. He could’ve seduced you just as you did him, found any worthy surface to hoist you up against, and then fuck you to tears in that slutty bikini of yours.

Thinking back on it now, the bikini you wore then resembles the lace red panties that are hanging off of you by a thread right now, messy tugged to the side, and soaked with your earlier orgasms and wetness. 

Choso’s so lost in his head, he doesn’t realize he’s drilling his cock into you, fucking you down into the couch and nearly making you lose the arch in your back. 

You let out a broken cry of his name, “Ch-Choso-, oh.. fuuck, m’gonna cum, Cho.”

His brows tense and he settles both of his hands on your hips, tugging your ass back to meet his thrusts, “Again, princess? Gonna make a mess on my cock? Hm?”

“Mhm,” You mumble, practically clawing at the couch to hold yourself stable as he pounds into you.

Then he’s reaching for your hair and a moan is ripped from your throat as he tugs your head back, furthering your arch and making your legs go numb with the way you could feel his heavy girth in every corner of your sappy pussy.

Lips parted, eyes rolling back again, and legs shaking, you let out a cry of pleasure as you come undone before it even registers to you.

Choso’s in your ear all of a sudden, “You feel so good,” He grunts, gifting your cunt with another hard thrust, “So fuckin’ good.”

His other arm wraps around you and sneaks down to your clit, causing your entire body to spasm against him. “C-Choso-, s’too much, hahh… p-please,” You’re whimpering, feeling an entirely new sensation build up whilst he rubs his fingers over your clit.

Then he’s jamming in harder, breathing hot against your ear, pulling your hair firmly, and even giving your cunt light smacks as you suck him in just as he’d secretly always imagined you would.

Grunting against the shell of your ear, Choso’s fingers pick up the pace on your clit and he grinds his fat tip against the spot that has you seeing stars, “Feel that?” He whispers, “Feel me in there, pretty girl?”

“Choso,” You squeak, “I-I’m… mmgh, f-feels different, Cho.” 

“I know baby, I know,” He hushes out so softly despite the complete contract of his mean cock fucking you full beyond belief. “Want you to squirt f’me,” Choso coos, “Think you can do that? Hm?”

You’re shaking your head no, your body feeling as though it were on fire with how hot and overwhelmed you were by pleasure. To which Choso simply chuckles, his dick aching for release.

“Please?” He begs quietly, “I need it, princess.” He sounds so sweet and soft but it’s completely opposite to the way his cockhead is stretching you open from the inside out.

“Want,” You correct breathily as if to mock him from earlier.

He flashes a fucked-out little smile, “Uhuh, want it so bad,” Choso admits, his thrusts growing desperate and frantic, “Wanna feel it, wet my cock up, sweetheart. C’mon, squirt f’me.”

Your legs are attempting you shudder shut, the pleasure overwhelming your senses as your eyes cross, “C-Cho-, s’too much, I-I can’t-“

“Yes you can,” He kisses the space below your ear softly, “Jus’ let go for me. Stop runnin’ from it,” The sound of his voice is all you can pay attention to aside from his desperate jabs at your insides, leaving you pooling around his shaft and slicking up every delicate vein that trails along his cock, “You wanna cum, so do it. Cum for me, princess.” Choso groans heavily against your ear.

You are. And then so is he. Both of you reach an entirely different level of orgasm— your body trembles as you make a filthy mess of the couch when you squirt just as he’s requested and he makes a mess of your insides by releasing thick gloopy ropes of cum deep inside you, fucking in every drop with a loud whine of your name rolling off his tongue.

So much so that you’re both collapsing against the couch as your highs die down. His body weight rests on top of yours but you’re shaking in the aftershocks of your orgasm too much to care. Choso softly humps his dick in and out of you just to keep his cum from dribbling out of your puffy folds, letting out soft breaths against your skin.

The two of you simply lay there for a while, unable to move for a vast many reasons.

Choso soon whispers a calm, “You okay?” And you hum softly. “Need a verbal response, pretty girl.”

“Yeah,” You practically mouth the word instead of saying it but that’s just enough for him.

Then, after a few more minutes of relishing in what had just occurred— the fact that you slept with your dad’s best friend finally weighed in on you.

Though, you guess you’ll deal with any guilt later. Even though the sound of the house’s front door clicking open from just down the hall moments later was rather concerning…

[tinystarbites]

accidents pt. II | Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: during a long case away, Spencer accidentally sees Reader's nudes on her phone and can't cope because he is a MESS for reader whoops pt.II The Reckoning /j, this is basically just 10k words of porn with feelings yikes

Warnings: SMUT MDNI, 18+ only, fem!reader, fluff, some angst (still Spencer feeling he isn't good enough 😔), EMOTIONSSS, Spencer STILL loves you so much, he gets a hug, and so much more!, talk about sex, detailed asking for CONSENT (be safe people), sex (piv), some frottage, uhhh what else, dirty talk, some dom/sub understones (sub!Spencer ofc), little bit allusion to subspace, Spencer discovers so many kinks in this awww we're so proud of you bby (mentioned kinks: praise kink, squint of liking being embarrassed, tiiny bit of a voyeristic thing), also I made him a virgin whoops so virgin!Spencer, proofread but prolly not perfect lol. Tell me if I'm missing any tags I am so tired

(also, Spencer will be bisexual in all of my Spencer fics because I am not a coward like the writers were and I will honour Spencer the way he was intended to)

HERE you can read pt. I, I do recommend it to have context and all but do whatever you want lmao I'm not your mother anyway have fun being completely wrecked like I was while writing this!! also thanks so so MUCH for 400 followers and almost 2k likes on the first part, you guys are the best and I hope you enjoy this fic as a thanks!!<333

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Spencer’s never sprung from his bed faster in his life before.

His heart is a jackhammer in his chest, chipping away at his ribs one bone splitter at a time because-

It’s you. In front of his door. And Spencer is so hard it hurts but- he can’t just-

“Spencer?”

He sucks in a haggard breath, hands reaching up and messing up his hair even more. His thoughts are everywhere and nowhere at once and he just needs to- needs just a moment to-

“Uh, yeah, just a second!”, he calls back, voice scratchy and used from the- the moaning Jesus Christ because he was about to come with your mental image and he somehow, magically, managed to apparently conjure you up in front of his door with his pathetic pining and oh god-

He has to- ugh- has to wash his hands and make it go away and –

“Okay, I’ll just…chill with that weird plant here.”

An overwhelmed whimper slips past his lips and he just, stands there for at least another five seconds before something in his mind snaps back into place and he rushes to the small, adjacent bathroom of his room.

After he thoroughly washed his hands, his erection has flagged off enough so that it’s not the first thing greeting you when he opens the door and thank god for that.

And oh- seeing you after doing that actually knocks the wind out of his lungs because you are just so goddamn lovely it makes Spencer want to do stupid, stupid things like cry or kiss you or spontaneously combust into a million pieces.

For once, he does something okay-ishly sensible though.

“Hi.”

You look at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement or scepticism, he doesn’t know for sure. Your eyes hold mirthful sparkles in them when he finally manages to meet your gaze, so he settles for the former of the two options.

You’re not wearing your work clothes anymore. Rather, you went for a cozy looking, oversized sweater and funkily patterned leggings. Your fashion sense outside of work always reminded Spencer of Penelope’s.

“Hi to yourself”, you chuckle, “Can I come in or are you too busy reading ten books at once?”

Spencer feels himself flush under your gentle teasing.

“Only seven books. But, yes, of course you can come in.”

He turns out of the way, creating room for you to pass him into his room. As soon as you are inside, you don’t hesitate to jump onto his bed and flop on your back with your arms spread wide.

Spencer’s breath hitches and he has to do some very extensive mental gymnastics to supress all the inappropriate thoughts from escaping the box he banished them into. Controlling his body’s response to seeing you in the same bed he was just jacking off in is… a different story. He pulls down the hem of his shirt as discreetly as possible, as he takes a seat next to you. Making sure that there is not too much distance between you two as to raise any suspicion and make it obvious he’s trying to get some distance between you, but also enough space so that he isn’t enticed to do anything unwise. Like, reach out and feel your warmth underneath his fingers. Or the softness of your skin. Or anything else really.

The more seconds tick by in which neither of you say anything, the more nervous Spencer becomes. He starts fiddling around with his fingers, aborting more than one move to steal a glance at your face to see what you’re thinking.

“Spencer”, you then finally say, voice kind of pout-y and if that didn’t make Spencer whip his head around to face you, the next thing you say for sure does. “Do you hate me?”

“Wha-“, he sputters your name, “No- no! Of course, I don’t- whe- why would you think that?”

You let out an exasperated groan, moving around until you are lying on your side, head propped up on your arm and frowning up at him. “Because you’ve been acting hella weird these last few days and you won’t tell me whyyyy”, you drag out the last syllable, pout on your lips and Spencer has to look up at the ceiling or else he’s just going to confess everything without second thought and that will definitely not happen.

“I haven’t been acting weird, really, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You remain silent again and Spencer feels the judging glare you send his way without having to look at you. Yes, he has been acting weird, he knows that, but you can never ever know the reason why tha-

“Is it because you saw my nudes?”

Spencer almost breaks his neck with how fast he whips his head down to look at you again. A strangled noise escapes him without permission and what. What.

“Because, that would actually explain so much, especially the way you’ve been acting and really, that’s probably on me because I’ve always been telling myself to put them behind a password block but I somehow always manage to forget that because apparently I have only one braincell left that’s stuck spinning on the deep-fried version of Funky Town and well, I guess I’m glad it was you that found them and not someone else and-“

“What? No, no, I didn’t- What- that’s not- what-“, Spencer cuts off your rambling with a horrified, screeched version of a protest because how- how could you have guessed what’s going on with just one try? Is Spencer so- so absolutely besotted with you that he’s so obvious? Spencer is so very confused and overwhelmed with whatever the hell is going on, he kind of misses the slight twitching of your mouth.

“Come on, Spencer. I said it’s fine and basically my own fault. Uh- well, actually… sorry. Because, well, that’s probably not very work-appropriate… I will pay for your therapy session, just send me the bill.”

Spencer thought he’d reached the limits of confusion seconds ago but apparently, he hadn’t. What. What are you even saying?

“Therapy sessions?”

You just- ignore him.

“Oh, also, please don’t tell Hotch? He’ll be pissed, despite me literally just doing hot-girl shit, y’know-“

Oh, Spencer cannot take it anymore.

He says your name and, “Stop, please, please, just-“

You snap your mouth shut, pulling your lips between your teeth and Spencer definitely doesn’t miss the way you have to force your mouth to stay still this time.

“Are you- is this a joke?”, Spencer asks, frazzled and desperate and so confused he just wants to bury his head under the duvet and never come out again. Because if you don’t actually know but- are just joking around, oh Spencer is overwhelmed, alright.

Your expression changes into something panicked then. “No, no, Spencer, sorry. I’m- sorry. Of course I’m not joking, I’m so sorry. It’s just a little bit too easy to tease you. Sorry.” You actually look apologetic now, lips downturned and frowning slightly.

“Not joking- so… so, you know?”, there’s something big and anxious pressing inside of Spencer’s chest. The urge to hide away and never face daylight again intensifies tenfold. He’s flushing before he realizes, hands trembling and breathing a bit too fast to be considered normal. Oh god, you know, you actually know, you’re going to- you’re never going to speak with him again you are probably here to tell him how weird and- and-

You must’ve noticed the frenzy he is thinking himself into, because you reach out with one hand and gently nudge his thigh with one knuckle. “Spencer”, you say, voice serious and steady and not the slightest bit disgusted or harsh and it snaps him out of his anxiety spiral.

“I knew the second I walked back into that room after you basically fled the precinct. I am, really, genuinely, sorry for making you uncomfortable. Like, it wasn’t actually my intention for you to see them. And then, after I realized what… I just wanted to wait and see what you’d do, if you came to talk to me or, well…”

You sigh, the hand that nudged him ruffling through your hair.

“I didn’t handle this situation very well. I’m really sorry. So… “, you trail off, scrunching your nose in that adorable way of yours that makes Spencer want to kiss it until it scrunches even further because you’d laugh and try to fight him off.

“We can just- forget about this. Forget that it ever happened, or-“, you hesitate again.

Spencer feels suddenly breathless. Like he stands in front of a cliff face, seconds before taking the step to send himself careening towards something immeasurably great or devastatingly fatal.

“Or…?”, he breathes, voice small and unsure.

You meet his eyes again after what feels like hours. There’s something intense in them, burning, and it’s like an electric shock to Spencer’s system. He’d give anything for you to keep looking at him like that forever.

“Or”, your hand returns to his thigh, but this time you let your fingers travel along the shape of it and Spencer whimpers. The burning in your eyes intensifies and Spencer feels hot, suddenly, so hot he’s burning with it. “Or we can do something else.”

“Something else?”, Spencer basically croaks because his throat is so dry and it’s difficult for his body to function properly when you are touching him like that.

You hum in agreement. “Whatever you want. You can tell m-“

“You.”

You look a bit startled when he cuts you off with that one, desperate syllable. Startled but also endlessly amused and Spencer just- his mind is apparently turned off, what the-

You laugh quietly, and your eyes soften, and it does something to Spencer that leaves an ach-y feeling in his chest. Oh, he loves you so much he can’t take it.

“Sure. You can have me”, you say simply, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world for you to admit, “Tell me what exactly you want, because I’d give you the world if you asked.”

And suddenly there’s hot pressure behind Spencer’s eyes, at the back of his throat. You’re just- just- amazing and so lovely and so kind to him, no one has ever said something like that to him, he doesn’t know how to handle it.

Spencer blinks up to the ceiling, desperately willing these stupid unwelcome tears away because crying about you treating him kindly is so on the bottom of the list of acting casual about this, so he rather feels than sees you sitting up next to him. Your hand slips from his legs and he feels the loss of your touch as if someone sucked the marrow from his bones. Before he can say something embarrassing like ‘please touch me again’ he feels your hand covering his. It fills him with a heady kind of courage.

“I want…”, Spencer starts, feeling entirely too uncomfortable with having to state his deepest and darkest desires. There’s the old familiar urge to start picking at his nails nagging at him, but you just interlace your fingers with his and start tracing random patterns into the skin there with your thumb. Spencer melts against you and tenses up at the same time because it’s just so- so nice. It feels so nice and Spencer never thought he’d ever get to have things like that with you but you’re here. You’re here, with him, and basically offering Spencer the entire world on a silver platter but it’s still so so unfathomably difficult just saying what he so badly wants.

“You want…?”, you hum slightly, voice soft and so tender as you continue painting patterns on his skin and Spencer would literally die for you. And that’s the entire problem. Spencer doesn’t know if you’d do the same. Well. Maybe not die die for him but. He can’t just sleep with you, and it not meaning anything to you. It would kill him. It would kill him, if after you give him tenderness and pleasure and acceptance in a way he’s never dreamed of receiving, you would go back to normal. Always politely distanced, close, but never close enough and it already twists his chest just thinking of that possibility.

“I just-“, he tries again, but when the words are stuck in his throat, sticky molten sugar that tastes like bile and fear, he pulls out of your grip and buries his face in his hands. He’s so bad at this. He’s the worst. No wonder he’s never had- had something like Morgan has, one night stand after one night stand (not that he particularly wants that, god no, but just-) because Spencer is just so bad at spilling all of the things that plague his gut and keep his thoughts in overdrive at night. No wonder he’s never even had a girlfriend or boyfriend before.

“Hey, hey, Spencer”, he feels your hands cupping his own, still over his face. Not taking them away, but just – there. “It’s alright, penguin, we can always come back to this another time. I’ll wait.”

Spencer’s face crumples and his breath hitches a little because- penguin. That’s the frankly ridiculous nickname you’ve been using for him ever since he apparently once looked like one, with that white scarf and knee-length black coat he wore during one of your cases where a blizzard surprised not only the team, but also the unsub. Spencer, like most of you, wasn’t prepared and thus, had to make do with what the helpful officers provided them with. And well, Spencer drew the penguin stick it seemed.

It’s ridiculous but sweet and it always makes him feel so loved, loved by you, because it’s adorable and theirs and he just loves it irrationally much, okay? And also, penguins are just really fascinating because-

“Did you know that most penguins live monogamously? The Emperor penguin is actually one of the only ones that mate seasonally, they only have one mate per breeding season. But most others have a mate for life, like, like swans and bald eagles.”

Before Spencer even opened his mouth, he was aware of the fact he was going to ramble on about some unimportant stuff. It’s always like this, it always feels like a breath he’s been holding in for too long, like an itch somewhere in his weird brain that only stops when he opens his mouth and infodumps and he cannot stop it. No matter how consciously he is telling himself to cut it out or screaming at himself to shut the fuck up you weirdo, it’s unavoidable. As soon as his brain latches onto a statistic or a fact it is reminded of, it’s an unstoppable force.

Like now. He is kicking himself. Why, oh why can’t he ever be normal? He feels himself flushing bright red from embarrassment and shame and frustration. He can’t believe he is rambling about birds while- while whatever the hell you two are doing right now. While in the middle of a conversation that started out with you confronting him about him seeing your nudes, jesus christ.

Spencer is about to suffocate himself with a pillow when you let out a graceless snort.

It confuses Spencer so much he lowers his hands to look at you and- oh.

Your eyes are shining with something that looks so close to what he would call affection, and it makes him want to bawl his eyes out and at the same time, smile so hard there’ll be laugh lines on his cheeks for the rest of the week.

“Well, that fits perfectly then”, you say, and Spencer doesn’t understand.

“What do you mean?”

You smile just a little wider, a little more teasingly but in a nice way, in a kind way and it leaves Spencer’s chest blooming with warmth.

“If you’re my penguin, I’ll be your penguin.”

Youryouryouryouryour-

Spencer feels entirely braindead. Only the fact that you called him yours registers. Because yes. Yes. Spencer is so yours he’d gladly let you make every decision for him from now on in his life and yes. That’s not exactly a very normal thing to think. Or to want. Spencer doesn’t care. He’s never felt normal about you for a day in his life and he definitely won’t start now.

“You- you mean- like, as, as mates?”

You scrunch your nose in disgust. “If you want to call us that, I think I’ll take back my offer.”

It punches a giggle out of Spencer, sudden and kind of light-headed. He watches your face break into a wide grin.

“But you- you’d like that?” You’d like me?

You pull a face, sniffing in a nonchalant way, direct your face to your nails in fake disinterest.

“Sure. Whatever.”

And Spencer can’t help himself. He sobs out a laugh- laughs out a sob or, whatever that weird noise he makes is, because you’re so ridiculous and he loves you more than anything in the world.

You roll your eyes, fondly, shake your head slightly.

“Of course, Spencer. I’d like that very much because I like you a very unnormal amount. Literally. On my knees, crying, screaming etcetera”, you say just like that, smiling just like that.

Spencer feels like he’s dreaming. He must be. There’s no other explanation for it. He just can’t wrap his head around the fact that you could like him. You. You’re so, so lovely and amazing and you deserve everything good in this world and Spencer is just. Spencer.

“You- you like me? Me?”, Spencer can’t hide the incredulous tone that seeps into his questions because you like him?

There’s no traces of humour in your eyes anymore. Your eyes look painfully honest, face suddenly serious, and it steals Spencer’s breath away.

You lean closer to him again, grabbing his hands with yours. Your gaze bores itself into his, intense and steady and he can’t look away. “Spencer. I know it’s- I know life has been hard on you for way too long. And that leaves its marks on you. That’s fine. It’s human. But. You do not deserve any less love because of that, do you understand me? Of course I like you, what isn’t there to like? You’re kind and funny and sweet and just so- Spencer. You’re so lovable and it kills me to know that you don’t see how you are so worthy of being loved.”

Oh.

Oh.

You can’t just- can’t just say things like that and expect him to not cry a little. Can’t expect him to act completely nonchalant and cool about all of this when you say things like that to him. Are you trying to kill him? Because it sure does feel like that.

Spencer is so completely at a loss. He doesn’t know what to say to that- not to mention what to do. How do you always do this? How can you see straight to the hidden, bruised core of him, littered with all these ugly and bad things and. Just. Figure out what to say to strike him exactly there.

It should scare him, being known so deeply. It should, but it doesn’t because it’s you. You are warmth and acceptance like his favourite place in front of a fireplace, book in hand and rain gently knocking against windows. You are quiet mornings at work, you are soft rays of sunlight in his hair, you are gentle hands helping you up when you fall and bruise your knees. You are –

A touch to his cheek startles him. He opens his eyes – when did he close them? – to your fingers brushing some stray tears away, so softly as if he’s something precious, something to be held delicately. That thought sends new tears spilling down his cheek. He can’t believe this is affecting him so much, so completely he simultaneously feels like he is going to shatter and be stitched back together again.

He never knew he needed this so much.

“Sorry for making you cry, penguin. I didn’t think this discussion about my lack of nude etiquette would get this emotionally damaging”, you say, voice hushed in the big silence of the room, a small smile on your lips and eyes so kind.

Spencer snorts, despite himself. This has really been a very bizarre evening. He feels almost drunk on the weirdness of it all, on the rollercoaster that his emotions have ridden all evening. That’s probably why he does what he does next.  

“Neither did I, especially after you interrupted me while I wa-“

Spencer shuts his mouth so fast he clicks his teeth together, eyes wide and suddenly horrified. He- what-

Why?

Why can’t Spencer ever keep his big mouth shut? Is he completely and utterly insane?

There’re alarm bells going off somewhere in Spencer’s head and a concerning warmth settling deep in his stomach when your grin takes on a slightly devilish edge, one he knows all too well and. And. Oh. He’s in trouble. So much trouble. Why did he have to say that?

“After I interrupted you while?”, you prompt him, eyes electric and hot and oh god-

Spencer is so dumb. An idiot. Of the highest order. High IQ, where?

“Nothing”, he says, voice high-pitched and rushed and he curses himself and his ability to act everything else but nonchalant. He’d be the worst actor of all time.

“Spencer.”

The tone of your voice rearranges something in his neurons. He can feel himself sit up just that little bit straighter, can feel his mind buzz at the edges. He’s never felt like this before.

He loves it.

“Hmm?”, is all he gets out. Trouble, so much trouble.

Suddenly you’re standing up, away from him and Spencer wants to whine because you should stay there next to him, forever fixed to his side. He doesn’t have to despair long, because you take one of your knees and gently nudge his legs apart with it and okay. Okay. That definitely didn’t just send Spencer’s mind reeling. That wasn’t just totally the hottest thing that ever happened to him.

You slot yourself between his legs as if you own that space and. In his humble opinion, you do. You so do. Spencer is willing to give you a map of his entire body and a marker and tell you to please demarcate every part of him you want. He’d give it to you, no questions asked.

He is looking up at you, at your burning eyes that still hold something so soft in them that makes the lump in his throat bigger again. And by god, Spencer just needs to hear you say it again-

“You like me?”

You move closer to him, lifting one hand and placing it underneath his chin. Your thumb traces along his jaw and Spencer feels like he is going to burst into a million embarrassed pieces.

“Yes”, you say simply, but the way you say it. Spencer can’t help but shiver and exhale shakily. He feels so warm, everywhere. His skin burns where your fingers are touching him. He never wants this to stop.

“You- You want me?”

Your hand grips his face a little stronger, your other fingers splaying over and down his throat and there’s a high noise coming from somewhere and there’s goosebumps on his body everywhere and oh, wait- it’s him. The noise. Well, how embarrassing but. He doesn’t care. Nope. Not at all.

…Okay maybe a little. His face feels warm, suddenly, warmer than the rest of him and yes. He’s blushing, okay?

“Spencer”, the way you say his name it- god, “I want you. I said it before, but. I will give you anything. Tell me what you want, Spencer, and you will get it from me.”

Your eyes are so dark and your voice so low and Spencer actually whines and. He’s hard again, so hard, because he didn’t come before and now, he’s even more pent-up and his thoughts are a mess, but you haven’t even touched him more than this and he’s already so worked up from you just saying these things to him-

“I want you”, Spencer pants, currently finding no other English words in the dictionary of his mind. And well. Emily was right about him. IQ slashed to zero when pretty person do thing.

He watches you take a deep breath, as if to steady yourself, as if this whole thing is affecting you as much as it affects him but that’s- ridiculous. Impossible. Because. Have you seen yourself?

“I know that, Spencer. But what do you want from me? Do you want me to kiss you?”, you ask, face suddenly so close to his Spencer feels your breath fan over his skin, and he whimpers because yes he wants that wants that- “Do you want me to touch you more?”, your other hand grabs his side, gentle but just a little bit roughly and Spencer is suddenly vividly reminded of the fact how strong you are and he feels kind of lightheaded-

“Do you want me to fuck you, Spencer?”

Spencer is going to pass out. And die. And moan and say, “Please yes yes yes”. Maybe not in that particular order.

“Okay, angel, anything you want”, you say, smiling softly at him as if he’s the best thing in the world and angel. Angel. Angel.

Before he’s even started to process you calling him angel, he sees a glint in your eyes, that edge in your smile again and before he knows what’s happening, you’re kissing him.

You’re kissing him and it’s- everything.

Your mouth is soft against his, and Spencer’s insides twist and flutter and his brain is kind of lagging behind, but he wants to be closerclosercloser-

It’s so good Spencer completely blanks on everything. There’s nothing in his mind except the feel of your lips moving against his. There’s no insecurity, no embarrassment tainting this moment even though this is literally like, only the sixth kiss or so of Spencer’s life and he has no idea what he is doing. But it’s so good.

A noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper escapes him when you lick into his mouth and Spencer’s soul almost leaves his body. He feels you shudder where you are pressed together, chest to chest.

“Spencer, Spencer”, you breathe against his lips, in between wet, hot, kisses. You rub your nose against his, eyes closed.

“Hmm?”, he hums, his voice somewhere in Canada or wherever. His mouth is too busy smiling so wide it hurts, anyways. No time for articulating anything.

“You’re amazing, Spencer, amazing.”

And he wants to shake his head, no, because the only one amazing here is you. But it’s impossible to disagree with you when your mouth has returned to his in a way that is probably ruining him for anyone else. (He’s okay with that.)

You peck him on the lips once, twice more, before you press your lips against his jaw, exactly where you had your fingers before. Your hands are basically the only thing holding Spencer up in a sitting position, because he feels like molten chocolate in your hands. Muscles apparently forgetting to do their job and well. Who can blame them? Spencer has stopped thinking in proper sentences the moment you had walked into his life, so. Only a matter of time until you broke the rest of him as well.

You kiss his neck and Spencer gasps. It’s really been a hot minute - three years, one hundred, twenty-one days and twenty hours to be exact – the last time he made out with someone. Everything feels heightened on his heated skin, especially you opening your mouth against him and licking him oh god-

It almost feels like a reward when you gently bite at his skin next. Spencer almost screams.

“So good, so so good for me”, he hears you whisper into the skin of his neck and this time, Spencer does make a noise. Because yes. He wants that. Be good for you. That’s the only thing in his fuzzy mind that feels clear, that feels graspable.

He can see your pupils dilate. Can see the wicked lilt to your lips. “You like being good for me, don’t you, angel?”

ANGEL. Spencer is nodding his head before he knows he does so. “Yes, yes.”

“Fuck”, he hears you breathe against him and it’s strange, seeing the effect he has on you. Did really he do that? “I can’t believe how incredible you are, sweetheart.”

And you need to stop. If you keep calling Spencer these things- he’s pretty sure he won’t survive this. The team would need to find another genius to solve cases with. His cactus Greg would dry out and wilt and die. You and Penelope would need to find another victim to send confusing memes to.

“Did you like my pictures, Spencer?”, you then ask and that’s so not fair. You can’t just ask him that while he’s so utterly in your hands that he’s sure he’d tell you about every little fantasy he’s had about you ever if you asked.

Because Spencer wants to be good, feels that need so deeply in his bones, he nods frantically. “Yes, I- I liked them.”

At the same time the words leave his mouth, something feels wrong. There’s an ugly thing twisting in his stomach, so unpleasant it momentarily occludes the high-octane bliss-fuzz fogging up his mind.

You notice the shift in mood almost immediately. “What’s wrong, angel?”

And well. It’s just- that guilt. Of not saying anything to you about Spencer seeing your nudes, of just ogling you like that without your permission. That wasn’t very good of him. Actually, the opposite. He’s been bad and he hates that. Hates that so severely that there’s suddenly tears on his cheeks and oh no. That’s mortifying. Who cries before sex? Jesus Christ he’s such a virgin it is genuinely embarrassing.

“I’m- I’m sorry”, he stutters, a little bit hysterical, creating distance between you, arms slung around himself, “I should’ve, should’ve said something, I’m so so sorry, I’m the worst friend and now I’m- I’m crying, oh god, I’m so sorry-“

“Hey, hey hey whoa. Spencer, darling. Penguin. Look at me, please?”

But he shakes his head. He doesn’t deserve to look at you again. What was he even thinking? He was- so creepy and now- now-

Two warm hands grab his face and then Spencer is looking into your eyes again. He squeezes his own shut, but all that it does is send more tears spilling over his cheeks and he’s so fucking stupid-

“Baby, please.”

Spencer sobs.

Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. That’s the best thing he has ever heard but he doesn’t deserve these things.

“Of course you deserve it, silly goose”, you say and oh. He’s said that out loud.

Your thumbs brush over his cheeks and Spencer can’t not lean into your touch, despite everything. Because that’s just the way it always is. He’s drawn to your warmth and tenderness like a moon revolves around its planet.

“I thought we’d established that it was an accident? And if it was someone’s fault, then mine, because no password, remember?”

Spencer opens his eyes. The deep affection swimming in yours makes him sob again. He’s a mess. A crying, horny mess and Spencer definitely fucked this up. Why does Spencer always ruin the few good things in his life?

“Spencer, Spencer. Hey. It’s okay, I promise you. We wouldn’t be doing this, if it wasn’t, okay?”, you kiss his nose. “Do you want to lay down, maybe?”

He nods, not really thinking clearly. He moves up the bed, under the covers and curls up on his side. He waits for you to get up from the bed, for you to walk over to the door and leave. To say that this was a mistake, he was a mistake. To say that you take back everything you said to him in the last half hour.

He’s not just a little surprised to feel your weight dip the mattress, to feel even more sudden warmth engulf him when you spoon him from behind. You start tracing swirly patterns over the skin of his arm and he feels goosebumps spread all over his body.

Some minutes tick by, you still holding him, when his tears have finally dried up. He doesn’t remember crying so much in one day. Spencer feels miserable.

“Do you still like me?”, he asks, and yes, it’s pathetic and stupid but. He doesn’t care if you never have sex or if you’re not going to be more than his friend now. Because the thought of you not being in his life in any capacity anymore- just no.

He can feel you freeze and take in a sharp breath. “Wha- Spencer. Of course, I still like you. I don’t care what we do, I just want to be with you. In any way you’ll have me.”

You sound so understanding and sincere and actually confused about his fear as if you’d never even think of not liking him anymore and and and-

And something in him just- snaps. He wants you, needs you so much he’s going to die if he doesn’t-

He shuffles and turns in your arms until he’s face to face with you. You look at him, eyebrow raised in question but so beautiful and lovely and you still like him-

“I want you so bad”, he says and then he presses his lips against yours again.

You respond immediately, low moan escaping you and Spencer is greedy, he wants to hear more, feel more, feel everything with you.

He’s kissing you as if he’s going to die if he ever stopped, which, yes, he absolutely would, and you kiss him back as if you can’t live without him. It makes everything become hazy again, like before, and every bad feeling suddenly feels eons away. Like he’s underwater, floaty and relaxed. Safe, he feels safe in the way you kiss him and hold him. Like you always do.

You move your kisses to his neck, sucking and biting and Spencer is moaning and moaning and can’t stop and then suddenly, you’re gone, what –

“Spencer, Spencer, wait”, you pant, out of breath and flushed and he wants to cry again, “Sorry, sorry I just-“

You frame his face in your hands, a little bit roughly. “I’m so sorry for making this so hard, you’re being so good for me, but Spencer. Have you done this before?”

Somewhere in the fog that is his minds, Spencer finds his voice. It’s high and airy but he doesn’t care. “No, no, I haven’t.”

He watches you take a deep breath, feels your fingers digging into his skin a little bit more.

“Tell me. Do you want this, Spencer?”, your voice is shaking as if you need to keep yourself in check and Spencer can’t believe he’s getting to see you like this.

“Yes”, he says because he can’t ever want anything else, and, “Please make me feel good.”

You inhale sharply, your grip on his face bordering on painful. “Spencer, you’re incredible, amazing, the best- I’ll make you feel good, okay? I’ll make you feel so good because you deserve it.”

“Yes”, Spencer is not ashamed of how whiny he sounds. No. He’s owning it now. This is his thing now, okay? He’ll gladly be your pathetic wet cat, or whatever the term was that you sometimes use to describe him with. Whatever it even means.

“Good”, you grin, and then you push on his shoulder hard and he’s on his back. And you. Sitting on top of him, thighs on either side of him. Straddling him exactly where he wants you most and he exhales a needy ‘ah’. His hypothesis of liking being manhandled is… yet to be disproven. He’s discovering so many things about himself today.

Pleasure radiates in waves from where you’re passively giving pressure to his hard cock and yeah okay. This is good. Amazing. He’s never felt better. But-

“Please.”

“Please what, angel?”

“More?”

“More what?”

Your fingers trailing along his throat and jaw, down his chest and teasing ghost-like over his nipples are not really helpful in finding the right words to what he wants. You take pity on him.

“More touch?”

Spencer nods his head, so fast he almost gets dizzy because he’s at that point again where everything feels liquid, hazy, a little bit unreal. So, speaking is already quite the task.

You smile at him as if he just solved the most difficult equation. “Doing so good, Spencer. Incredible.”

He moans. Okay. Another hypothesis to add to his ever-growing list of scientific discoveries today.

“Where do you want touch, Spencer? Here?”, there’s hands in his hair. He shakes his head.

“Hmm… Here?”, fingers drawing circles on his chest and yes, that feels nice, so nice but he wants-

“Here?”, you ground your hips down and jesus-

“Yes!”, Spencer almost chokes on the sound. Pleasure shoots up his spine and he whimpers. “Please.”

You exhale shakily, looking flush. “Okay. Because you ask so nicely.” There’re two little taps on his lower stomach through his shirt. “Do you want to take this off first? Or no?”

The way you give him the chance to say no- the way you respect his autonomy so deeply-

It’s basic human decency, yes, but it’s also the hottest thing and Spencer feels so valued and understood and safe that he’s not even hesitating when he mutters a quiet yes.

You help him sit up because he’s currently not really heir over his body like he usually is. Help his head out of the shirt and thread his arms out. And then, he’s half naked in front of you and suddenly, the doubt and insecurity that’ve been so quiet so far are back with a vengeance.

The urge to cover himself is so big it’s impossible to stop his arms from wrapping around himself.

Spencer knows he’s not ugly. He’s not that bad looking actually. Can’t be too bad if Morgan keeps insisting on calling him pretty boy, even though Spencer sometimes still has the sneaking suspicion that he’s teasing him. But his friend wouldn’t be so cruel.

But other people like to be. Pipe-cleaner, leek, straw, big-eyes. He’s heard it all before. He has matured enough and grown into himself so that these things don’t bother him like they used to. But still. Still. These things are arduous to scrub from under his skin.

Your gaze on him though- he’s never felt so, cleaned from all of these mean words before. You look- you look reverent while mapping his skin and maybe that’s the reason why he lowers his arms again.

“Spencer. You’re a dream”, you say, almost in trance. Almost as if you’re hypnotized by him, and he’s flushing. But. Being watched so intently, being admired like that. He feels his dick give an indigent twitch against your clothed core. Another thing for the list.

“So impatient”, you tut and Spencer flushes more. He thinks he’s waited long enough for this. But he doesn’t say that. If you stopped now- he would definitely combust spontaneously.

You lean down, over him. Hands trailing along his sides like you did earlier, but without any clothes between your skin and his. It’s almost too much. And not enough. He feels electrified, where you touch him. His heart is hammering against his ribs so hard you must be able to feel it. His stomach is in knots, fluttery. He’s never felt more alive.

You connect your lips to his throat, placing kiss after kiss along the arched length of it. Follow the same path with your tongue and Spencer whines, curves up against you a little. Everything feels so good Spencer is floating in it.

You shift your attention to his collarbones next, kissing but then gently biting and Spencer feels the indents of your teeth all the way through to his back and he hopes, wants, you to sink them into him so deep they’ll leave marks. So that he carries the evidence of this with him for the rest of this case, so that there’s absolutely no more doubt to who he belongs to. That thought alone makes him whimper, makes him feel that tiny little bit more lost in you.

You start kissing along his chest, down his stomach. Open mouthed, wet kisses and Spencer shivers when the places you put them feel cold after because of your spit. The lower you get, the noisier he becomes and at one point, Spencer would’ve been embarrassed. Well, he kind of is, but he’s also so turned on that the embarrassment doesn’t feel as stifling like usual. Rather, in a weird way, it makes everything hotter, and he does not own enough brain capacity right now to decipher that. But he does add it to the list.

When your face is dangerously close to the waistband of his pyjama, Spencer tenses, holds his breath. Being shirtless is one thing, but… well.

“It’s okay, Spencer. We only do as much as you feel comfortable with”, you murmur, giving a small peck to the left of his belly button. You calmingly follow his sides with your hands, smiling at him with so much affection in your eyes that Spencer feels speechless, breathless, until the tension releases his muscles again and he melts into the sheets.

“’m just…”, he tries, he really tries so hard to tell you that he wants this more than anything he’s ever wanted but that he just feels… insecure.

You kiss his stomach again. “How about we only take off the pyjama? For now? If you want to take off your underwear too later, we can still do that.”

That… that’s actually a good idea. So, he nods.

“Words, angel.”

“Yes, yes. That’s- good.”

You look so proud of him. “You’re so good, Spencer. Perfect.”

He moans embarrassingly loud. He really should be more concerned about this. About how you are basically pulling him apart, thread by thread and he just lets you, willingly. How you know which threads to pull to reduce him to a sweaty mess in what felt like 0.2 seconds.

There’s a finger dipping beneath the waistband, moving back and forth along the newly exposed skin. Your eyes watch him intently, almost predator-like. A question is in there somewhere as well and Spencer nods again.

You help him lift his hips, help him pull down the pants. Spencer is kind of busy kicking his legs a little to shake them off completely but when he looks back and down himself to where you are hyper-focused on the outline of his cock through the thin fabric he blushes.

Even more when he notices the big, dark blue splotch in front of his underwear. That’s definitely never happened before. How embarrassing.

When you look up at him again, you’re also flushed. Eyes dark, wide, voice kind of unsteady. “Spencer, Spencer, can I?”

“Please”, and then you palm him with your hand, and it feels so good it takes all of his concentration to not come on the spot. He doesn’t know if he’ll survive this until you arrive to the main thing.

It’s not the first time someone has touched him like that, but it is the first time you are doing it, and it already feels better than anything he’s ever felt before. You’re either a wizard or Spencer is just biased because he thinks everything you do is ten times better than the same thing done by someone else.

Probably the first reason.

He has his head angled back, one of his arms thrown over his eyes. If he looked at you now, he’s pretty sure, he’d come. Visual stimulation on top of physical would probably be the end of him. It’s already too much, just feeling your hand move up and down his dick in various pressures. Almost as if you are testing what he likes best, and Spencer is definitely here for it. Definitely. He’s happy to just let you experiment with him until you know all the different ways to drive him mad with pleasure with just a few moves.

Which, you apparently already figured out, judging by the way Spencer can’t form a single coherent thought anymore. It’s already, so good, so freaking good holy shit, and you’re still not touching him. Still a layer of fabric between your hand and him and he kind of- just-

“Take it off?”

You still your hand, looking up at him. You look kind of crazed, almost a little pained. It takes two deep breaths for you to process what he just asked, eyes a little unfocused before they fix Spencer to the bed with an intensity that makes him feel unfocused. “You sure, angel?”

Spencer literally can’t do anything but nod. You stay in your position for some moments longer, before you sigh out a long breath, mumbling something that suspiciously resembles you’re gonna be the death of me. Spencer misses your warmth on top of him the second you hoist yourself up. It’s kind of crazy and destitute of him. You are literally right there but he’s waited for this for so long it feels like he’s suffocating without your weight pressing him down. Which is ironic and also, insane.

Your fingers are gentle, when they move under the stretchy fabric of his underwear. Even gentler when they pull down and down and down until Spencer is entirely naked in front of you.

Oh, he feels so exposed. While he has been the recipient of a mediocre hand job before, it’s been in his trousers. This is kind of the first time someone sees him naked like that, because school locker rooms and his mother don’t count.

He doesn’t dare look at you. If there’s anything akin to disappointment, not to mention disgust on your face- Spencer probably would have to jump out the window, stat. His gaze is frozen on his cock, steadily leaking precum on his stomach (which, embarrassing). He’s abashedly trying to insert himself into your point of view, tries to imagine what you think about seeing him like this. What you might think about his dick, if it’s too short or too thin or if it looks weird, if he should’ve shaved. If his legs look strange and too gangly now, or if his stomach connects to his pubic area wrong or-

“Holy shit”, you say, and Spencer is too curious for his own damn good sometimes, because he can’t force his gaze to stay away from you.

You look at him- like before. Reverent but more, so much more. He almost feels like a deity, the way you look at him. Someone to be awed by, someone that should be worshipped. Spencer feels his already in overdrive heartbeat quicken even more, blood flushing his cheeks so much it leaks down his throat, to his chest.

Spencer would literally kill to have you look at him like this for the rest of his life.

“Holy shit, Spencer”, you repeat, eyes now meeting his, “You’re like- a literal fucking dream. I cannot believe- you’re so beautiful, how are you so beautiful everywhere?”

Spencer whimpers and he needs you to touch him kiss him fuck him anything please now or he will absolutely die from heart palpitations.

Some of his despairing thoughts must’ve come through to you, because the next thing you do is moan, which is the best thing he’s ever heard. Then, you take off your sweater. Second to go is your cropped tank top and you aren’t wearing a bra and good heavens.

Pictures could never compare. Not even Botticelli could’ve adequately committed you to canvas.

Spencer must’ve taken some brain damage from seeing you half naked. He doesn’t remember you taking off the remainder of your clothes, nor does he remember you straddling him again. But, fuck.

Spencer kind of doesn’t use the f-word that often but-

fuckfuckfuckufuckfkcufuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckcufkc-

You’re warm against him, and wet, so freaking wet, and it feels so mind-blowingly good- it’s a miracle he’s still holding on. But-

“Won’t last long”, he gets out, breathy and whiny and just so goddamn fuzzy from pleasure. The world could literally perish right now, and he wouldn’t care. He can’t care, because this is the best thing that ever happened to him and he won’t ever care about anything else ever again other than feeling you, you you you you, against him.

“Spencer, Spencer”, you breathe, gasp, and fuck, the way you keep using his name. “Are you okay? Do you still want this?”

It’s ridiculous you even ask. But the warmth in his chest, the feeling of comfort and safety and ease – because everything with you is so easy, so natural - he feels with the way you look after him-

He feels your thumbs caressing his wet cheeks. You put small, sweet kisses all over his face. Take the time to brush away some of his sweat-sticky hair from his forehead. Place kisses there too. You end with a drawn out, gentle kiss to his lips.

“What do you say, sweetheart?”

There’s really only one way for him to answer that. He trusts you. Plain and simple. There’s no one else he could ever do this with.

“Yes, I want. Please.”

You kiss him again. “So good Spencer, you’re so fucking good to me. I can’t believe you are trusting me with this. You are incredible, angel.”

Spencer doesn’t know how it’s anatomically possible, but he blushes even harder. Also, feels his cock twitch against you because he apparently likes to be called good almost as much as he likes being good. For you. Only you. Jesus Christ.

“Do you have a condom?”, you ask and ah. Well.

“Suitcase”, and wow. First word with more than one syllable since you straddled him the first time. He’s being so brave right now. He deserves a medal. Proof of Being Able to Speak Polysyllabic Words While Getting Fucked (Almost).

There’s humour glistening in your eyes, when you hide a fake gasp behind your hand and say, “Oh my god, Spencer you dog. Can’t believe you planned this entire thing.”

Spencer almost chokes on his own spit. “N-no! I just- uh, like being prepared.”

You grind down a snort, drive your teeth into your lower lip. “In case you accidentally saw your coworker’s nudes and them being down to fuck you about it?"

Oh my god, you’re the most ridiculous person he’s ever met. He can’t stop himself from grinning because seeing you trying to keep your laughter at bay-

“Yes. That.”

“But what if- what if it was Rossi instead of you seeing them? How would’ve your plan worked out then, huh?”, you wheeze, shaking from literal suppressed laughter and Spencer makes a sound like a dying horse.

“Rossi? Rossi?”

“Oh my god, imagine it would’ve been Hotch. He would’ve probably fired me so hard and then called me a week later to disappointed-dad-talk me to come back but to please, refrain from bringing personal files to work in the future.”

Spencer laughs. He’s still rock-hard underneath you, but he’s laughing because that’s what you always do. Being so absurd and silly that he’s shocked to laughter.

He adores you with every fibre of his being.

“What the fuck?”, you ask, incredulous but laughing yourself, “Is my misery amusing to you?”

And Spencer feels like being a little bit of a brat. “Very.”

You flick his nose. Grumble something like I’ll show you misery and then you move your hips against his and Spencer sees stars. Let’s out an embarrassingly high whine.

Ah well. It was still worth it.

“Don’t move”, you order, when you climb down from him to retrieve a condom. Spencer watches you, lets himself look at you. All the times he’s wondered how it would be, how it would feel like, being in this kind of situation with you. He’s never in a million years thought it would feel so familiar. Like you’ve done this before, so many times that it’s just become something normal between you two. He’s actually relaxed. So turned on it feels like he’s going to burst any second, but he’s calm. He feels comfortable, so much so that it doesn’t even matter that it’s the first time he’s doing this and he’s so clueless about all of this.

But he knows, if it’s with you, he never ever has to worry about anything.

“Do you have lube as well?”, you ask, rifling through his suitcase and distracting him from his sappy thoughts.

“Hmm. No, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, angel”, you say while returning to Spencer, and the nickname kind of switches something off again in his brain. Perfect. He’s never going to be able to be normal again about that word.

“We’ll have to get some, for next time. Always feels better with it.”

Spencer hasn’t really registered more than next time next time next time-

He’s pulled out of his daze of knowing your intentions of this not only being a one-off thing, when you straddle him again, a bit lower on his legs. Spencer moans, loud and high, when you grab him by the base and god, fuck, his skin is tingling with anticipation.

With your other hand, you grab the condom and then use your teeth to open the packet, and his cock jumps in your hand. How are you so hot. How does everything you do turn him on so much, what.

He watches you take out the plastic ring as if he’s watching from above, out of his body. He watches as you position the condom over his tip and then pull it down, down and Spencer’s brain must be lagging because he feels everything with at least a two second delay and shit, god, son of a-

“You ready, baby?”

He makes a noise between a sob and a whine. He’s losing his mind. “Please please please-“

“Fuck, Spencer”, you whine, lift yourself up a bit with your legs and then you are sinking down on him, inch by agonizing inch.

It’s so good, it’s so good, you are so warm, so hot, and Spencer can’t stop making noises until your hips are flush to his and he’s inside you.

You let out a loud, drawn-out moan above him. “Fuck, fuck, Spencer. You feel so fucking good, holy shit.”

He feels like he’s one move away from coming. God, oh god, it feels so incredible.

“Can I move? Spencer, please?”, your voice is wrecked, you’re flushed down to your navel, and you’re the best thing he’s ever seen.

“Please please please please”, it’s the only word he remembers how to pronounce.

“Fuck”, you almost sob, lifting yourself almost completely off him. You lower yourself back down again, one swift move, and you both moan.

You pick up the pace a little, fucking him with still languid but purposeful thrusts. Every time his cock sinks back into you, Spencer feels bits and pieces of his sanity crumbling away. He can’t think, can’t speak, his mind so fogged up and fuzzy he’s having troubles remembering who he is. He’s so completely at your mercy he’d let you do anything to him.

That turns him on a worryingly huge amount. List, something about a list somewhere.

“Oh, god, look at you. Spencer, baby, angel. You feel so good inside of me, so good.”

He keens, grabs at your strong thighs bracketing his slim hips. Arches up into you, closerclosercloser-

“You like being good for me, right angel?”, you ask, hips slowing down to a gentle grinding that absolutely drives Spencer insane and he’s too far gone to even nod, “It suits you. Being so wrecked for me, moaning and shaking. God, fuck, you’re divine, Spencer, fuck.”

The pressure behind his cock, low in his stomach, that’s been building all evening, all week, holy shit, it’s too much. Spencer feels delirious, feels your hotness around him, feels your hands pressing his chest down into the bed. He’s going to die it feels so good.

“You going to come for me, Spencer? You gonna be good for me and come inside of me?”

Please please please please- it’s all he can think, all he can feel, because because-

You give a particularly hard thrust and-

Spencer’s coming, moaning and moaning, shaking everywhere. He’s coming and it feels so good, so fucking good. He’s never come so hard in his life before.

He might have blacked out a little. The next time he’s aware of something, it’s you cleaning him with a wet washcloth. Slow, and gentle and Jesus.

“What?”, is the first thing he manages to say, and you snicker beside him. You caress his face, hand running through his hair, down his chest. Peck his lips. You’re both still naked.

“Feeling good?”, you ask and what kind of question even is that. You just fucked the soul from his body, and you ask him-

“I almost died”, he says, tagging your name at the end with an incredulous tint to it.

You snort, setting the washcloth on the nightstand behind you. You lie down close to him, cuddling into his side. “That was the plan.”

“Killing me with sex?”

“Yep. That’s for ogling my nudes without my permission, you creep.”

He says your name again, exasperated but so fucking fond it’s a miracle you’ve never noticed his pining before. You shrug, pull a ‘what can you do face’. Spencer rolls his eyes and then, unceremoniously, flops on top of you.

“Uffff”, you press out. “You’re smothering me, penguin.”

Spencer shrugs and copies the expression you just did. You bark out a laugh.

“Ha! Didn’t know post-sex Spencer is such a cheeky little shit. I’ve created a monster.”

He can’t entirely control his face, some parts of a smile slipping into his features. He does manage to poke out his tongue at you though, before he buries his face in your neck.

Some minutes tick by, you both enjoying the other’s presence and warmth and idleness, before something in his brain-

“Wait-“, Spencer splutters, pushing himself away from you so that he can look at you. “Did you- did you even finish?”

He’s kind of horrified. He was so focused on his pleasure- he- how did he forget? He doesn’t remember you coming and oh no, he’s such an asshole, who doesn’t make sure the other person has come as well and-

“Spencer, Spencer”, you shush him, fingers trailing along his back, and he shivers, eyes rolling back.

“I made myself come right after, don’t worry. You were kind of busy in your post-orgasm, pussy-drunk coma.”

Spencer flushes. “But I wanted to…”

You laugh softly. “You can do whatever to me, next time, sweets. This was about you. We’ll go on a date as soon as we’re back home. Fucking Florida is driving me nuts.”

Oh, he suddenly feels shy. A date? You want to go on a date with him?

“Really?”, he asks, and he hates how insecure he sounds.

You send him an unbelieving look. “Uh, what about the last hour makes you think otherwise? Seriously, Spencer, we need to work on your confidence.”

“Okay”, he mutters, a little bit pout-y and you scoff, pulling him down on top of your chest again.

There, with your hands painting patterns on his back and him completely lost in your warmth and familiarity, Spencer thinks that maybe, Florida isn’t that bad.

--

Bonus

“So, then. Made any scientific discoveries last night, pretty boy?”

Spencer chokes on his coffee.

“What?”

“Nothing”, his ‘friend’ says, smirking and leaning against his table, “You just seem to have figured out that little problem that’s been keeping that pretty head of yours all messed up.”

Spencer feels himself flush. Stupid body and stupid involuntary, physiological reactions. Morgan picks up on it, of course.

“Ohhhhh, want to share with the class what those discoveries were?”

Briefly, so very briefly, Spencer thinks of his self-compiled list but- no no no no.

“Shut up, Morgan.”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

tags: @sebastiansstanswhore @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @wasitforrevenge @wannabewolf @tommorecommendedfics @winterhi09 @theoraekenslover @chaewondrful @okeyhoezayy @busy-buzzing @laurakirsten0502 @redros3y @trashxqueen @kitty-kei @so-long-daisymay @hayleythecannibal @jsnsnsnszjzj @reeidsluv @kayane28 @moonysreid @desperately-seeking-serotonin @munsonslunchbox @tul1p-mimi @anuttellaa @pinkgomie @elizabethmidnight2017 @evrmorets @cyanidebitsg @bangchansdog @pinterestwhore145 @some-one-yiu-dont-kno @emma-e-a

i hope these work lmao, also let me know if you wanna be on my eternal tag list for any future Spencer fic ;)

[monstersflashlight]

Just the tip (Day 3/8 of 10k followers event)

Minotaur x fem!reader || size kink, soft (but filthy) sex, dirty talk, breeding, oral sex

You are quietly walking through the supermarket one day when you have to climb a shelf because you can’t reach the fucking cereals you want. You are pushing your body up when you slip and brace yourself for impact. But the impact never comes. You feel strong big arms around you and when you look up you are staring into the eyes of the biggest minotaur you’ve ever seen.

From that point on, you see him every time you go to the supermarket, it’s like magic. You are going grocery shopping? He’s walking the aisle like he’s there just for you. Days pass and you can’t stop thinking about how wonderful he is, how pretty… and how fucking big. He insists on helping you get everything from the top shelf, you aren’t exactly little, but he’s so tall and broad and fucking magnificent… You agree. And just like that, you have a new grocery shopping friend.

Your friendship develops from there, you gave him your phone, he texts you when he’s going shopping, you met there. Sometimes you go out for coffee after, sometimes he insists on following you home and helping you put the groceries away… You never thought it was wrong because if felt completely fine, it felt natural and amazing to trust him, to feel cared for. And you think you might be in love.

When he finally asks you out, you say “yes” so fast he starts laughing as you blush like a teenager. He embraces you human body against his big minotaur one and lifts you up, burying his big head in your neck as you grab his horns. The sinful groan he lets out makes you whimper in need, and just like that, you two are horny as fuck and it’s like something broke inside you. A new kind of need awakening.

You go on a date that feels like the longest foreplay you’ve ever felt. The date is fucking fantastic, you two fitting better than puzzle pieces, and you can’t stop thinking how much you want to suck his cock. If he’s somewhat proportionate, he must be huge, and that thought plagues your brain every time you look at him. But you don’t say nothing that day.

You continue dating and going groceries together, and after a month of constant turn-on state, you are casually hanging out in your kitchen putting the groceries away as he sits and looks at you while you two talk.

“What?” He asks when he catches you staring at him for the hundredth time, a big smile in his pretty face. He’s so cute you want to hit him, sometimes. You can’t deal with such adorable being.

You look at him, feeling your cheeks getting hot already. “I- Nothing,” you say, embarrassed to admit you were thinking about his dick, once again. You are in a constant state of sexual frustration since you started dating. You thought it would be more sex and less cuteness, and you aren’t mad about it being cute, but dang, you want his cock so deeply inside of you, you could feel him for days after.

He smirks, grabbing a grape out of the bag and chewing it slowly. “Come on, don’t be shy, tell me.” His absurdly hot face and body look so tantalizing and you feel so ready to climb him like a tree every time you get close to him...

“I- I lowkey… Never mind, it’s too embarrassing.” You look down as you take some more groceries and store them in the cupboard. You hear him getting up and getting closer to you, his heat behind you making you melt against his chest. His strong arms coming around you as you sigh, happily. He turns you around and pecks at your lips, his big eyes making pleading as he says nothing. “Okay, okay, stop using those big eyes on me. I… I was thinking about your dick,” you confess, hiding your face in his chest.

He pulls his fingers under your chin and pushes your face up. He’s looking at you with such tenderness and heat in his eyes that you have to grab at his shirt harder not to fall, your knees weak under you. “Say that again?” He asks, his tone pleadingly.

“We… We’ve been seeing each other for a long time and I… I want to move things further,” you let out slowly, looking at him for any reaction. But his face is completely blank and you start doubting everything about your relationship. The voices in your head are loud as you let out a choked: “It’s okay if it’s too fast, I get it. I know. Shutting up now.” It’s been too little, he doesn’t feel the same, he’s just with you because you are exotic… Your inner monologue is filled with self-doubt.

“No. No, it’s not that,” he says, an edge of self-doubt mirroring yours. You blush hard as you look at him up and down, your brain going a mile per minute and falling into the worst possible scenarios.

“What then?” You ask, neediness bleeding into your voice. “You… You don’t find me attractive?” You finally ask, your self-esteem issues making you want to cry as he looks down at you with the most shocked expression ever.

“What?! Are you insane?!” His growl is so deep and feral that your knees turn into jelly under you.

You grab the edge of the counter not to fall. But you can’t respond with anything before he’s manhandling your body over your kitchen table and pushing all the groceries to the ground. You are about to protest when he leans over your body and starts kissing you senseless. His arms part your legs and he steps between them, his monstrous bulge fitting perfectly against your clothed pussy.

“You want this?” He says as he grinds against you. “Are you sure?” He sounds hesitant, but his dick is so hard against you that you want to scream.

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” you chant, trying to grind against him. He growls and rips your clothes off in two fast tugs, leaving you naked over the table, like a sacrifice for the minotaur. And you are more than ready to be devoured.

He pulls his fly open in one tug, probably breaking it in the process, but his movements are frantic. He pushes against you once again, his dick huge against your dripping cunt. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he grunts, his dick leaking precum. Leaking so much of it that you feel it dripping over your wet pussy, making a bigger mess. “I don’t think I would fit, you are so tiny.” He proves his point pressing a finger inside you, making you arch your back and moan loudly. He grunts as he fucks you slowly. His finger feels already so big...

“Just the tip,” you try to argue, wanting nothing more than to be fucked. You know you can take him. At least some of him, but he’s so caring and so worried about you… Always worried. You moan and try to move your hips, but his grip is non-forgiving. You can’t move even a millimeter as he rubs his tip against your wet folds around his finger still buried inside. “Please, please,” you always thought you were above begging, but today you learned a new thing about yourself.

“Just the tip?” He asks, the big head of his cock teasing your entrance. “You are so tight,” he grunts. You feel like he’s going to break you apart as he presses lightly, making you cry out. He pulls back, scared that he hurt you, but you shush him, kissing his snout and grabbing his horns. You know he loves when you play with his horns, he told you how sensitive they were.

“Just the tip,” you repeat. You are already feeling needy and desperate, wanting nothing more but for him to fuck you into oblivion, even if that means you’d be impaled by a giant dick.

“You are soaking,” he groans as he gets in position, making you hot all over. The sounds he makes are so erotic you can’t stop moaning in response.

He starts pushing inside millimeter by millimeter and you feel like your body is being torn. He’s so big, so massive inside of you. You don’t know if you can take him. You don’t know if the tip was already too much for your poor human pussy.

“You feel amazing, such a good little human for me.” He keeps going, shushing your whimpers and telling you how good you feel, how pretty you look stretched around him. “Your pussy is so good, you feel so tight around me. Your pussy feels amazing, best pussy I’ve ever tried, I’m not gonna give you up for anything in the world. You are MINE.” With a roar he pushes a bit deeper, making you cry out.

After that it’s like a switch turns off inside him. Before you realize, he’s slipped a bit more inside. And a bit more. And he’s halfway there when he starts to fuck you in earnest, losing complete control of himself because of how good you feel. You start chanting his name as he keeps hitting deep inside of you. Too much, too deep, but so, so good you can’t stop the tears from falling freely.

He fucks you like a piston, so lost in the pleasure of your body that you can’t even think straight as he goes and goes and goes. You don’t know where his body starts and yours ends. You don’t know what day it is or what’s your own name. You just know his dick pushing far and deep inside of you, harder and harder with each thrust. It’s maddening.

“I’m gonna breed you,” he starts. You groan in response, the idea of being filled to the brim making you hotter than expected. And he keeps going, “I’m gonna come so far inside of you, you are gonna feel me inside for days.” You groan again, rocking your hips against him. “Rub your pretty clit for me, fall apart around my dick, let me feel your pussy milking me.” You scream at his words, overwhelmed.

You obey, rubbing your clit as he fucks you furiously on the table, the wood underneath you creaking under the force of his thrusts. It takes you less than two seconds to come around his shaft, only halfway in, but bigger than anything you’ve ever tried.

“Just like that, yes. Yes. Good little human.” He starts babbling nonsense as he fucks you though your orgasm.

When you are coming down from the extracorporeal experience that is an orgasm with him, you feel the first shoot of his come inside of you. He comes, and comes, and comes a bit more. You feel some come leaking around his dick, you feel so full you don’t know what to do but squirm under him. The movement just makes everything move and you groan, clenching around him as he grunts.

He pulls out after what feels like an eternity hugging each other, your pussy feels raw and abused. You whimper when he touches you, so tender and fucked out, but he doesn’t really care, a dazed look in his eyes as he looks at your leaking pussy. You push your body up on your elbows, looking down at him as he kneels on the floor, between your legs. He launches at your pussy, eating you out until he deems you are clean enough. You come three times before he’s done.

And then he takes you to bed and does it all over again.

[atrwriting]

future problems — coriolanus snow x fem!wife!reader

hi everyone :) jumping on the bandwagon

this man is so fine i couldn’t help myself. i hope everyone had an amazing holiday if they celebrate — i celebrate christmas, so here is my almost 10k word christmas gift to all of you xoxo love u all v much thank you for reading !!

as always, warnings: corio-lame-o is a fucking warning holy fuck, smuuuuut, arranged marriage (i think this counts?), coriolanus is a distrustful evil fuck (but he’s super hot), fem!reader, reader is married to this dickhead (i say as if i wouldn’t want to be lmao), angst, sexism and misogyny is def in here, p in v penetration, m receiving oral, choking, dom!corio, asshole!corio, sub!reader, subspace kinda

informal warnings: bro what the fuck was i on this is literally 10.2k words and i refuse to edit because im super lazy anyway we die like men you've been warned

anyways… here is future problems:

he never wanted to get married.

he saw it as a potential problem, one that would most definitely lead to loose ends — and he hated loose ends.

despised them.

however, his innate need to maintain an image was far more important to him. he weighed the costs and benefits in his head like an algorithm — check, check, check. coriolanus’ mind left no stone unturned, especially when future problems were to be squashed before they could ever be wiped from memory. in the end… he decided he would marry.

and it would be you.

he never allowed himself to be naive — so he would never allow himself to marry someone he already loved. lucy gray? a child’s want for something they can’t have, and something they wouldn’t realize until later that it was a walking regret. no — he could never marry someone that would harm him. absolutely not. out of the question. therefore, it had to be you.

it had to be you because what harm would you cause him? you were shy, quiet, of satisfactory social standing, and uncontroversial. everything a patriarch of the snow family would want. deserved. be entitled to.

he needed someone that wouldn’t be a problem — a loose end in the future. he had conquered so much — he refused to let anything else, especially as irrelevant as a significant other, stand in his way.

however… it did not aid him in his stone-cold lack of a love affair conquest that you were absolutely breathtaking.

at first, it was just an ego boost. he simply couldn’t stop his thoughts from voicing, of course she’s perfect. the snow legacy can only have perfect.

but then… oh, then…

then he saw your smile.

oh, your smile.

your fucking smile.

the first time he caught himself enjoying it — he scolded himself. he refused to see you for a week. a punishment of sorts. more so for him than for you. after, he refused to let his eyes wander on the pretty features of your face for him to witness a reaction to something someone had said or done. he didn’t want to be reminded of what it was like to experience joy or peace because someone else was experiencing it — that was what almost costed him everything he had built.

no one would ever tear that down. not again, not ever.

no one.

when the day of your marriage came, it was business as usual. he refused to meet eye contact, and did not partake in more conversations with you than he had to. he could tell you felt uncomfortable — but he forced himself not to care. he drove it down, down, down like a miner drilling for more coal — hoping, one day, it would be worth it.

and it was… until he was sick.

it was a minor ailment — nothing major, but he was on bedrest for about a week or two. he had employed enough adequate members to his staff to feel that things would at least be taken care of until then. he also found comfort in the fact that two weeks was not long enough for something irreversible to occur. if a problem had taken placed, he would be able to rectify it once he was well and able and… set aside the responsible party.

however, he did not expect one problem.

and that would be you.

he knew you were asking to see him. he knew, he knew, he knew, but he refused to let you in. you were not disrespectful — you had only asked once a day, which happened to be every day in the afternoon. he had picked you specifically because you were too quiet to be annoying. however, his own perfect, pristine, and proper plan had stabbed him in the back. he had never considered that the perfect, pristine, and proper wife would be this dutiful to him, checking in once a day on his condition and to speak with him. despite his illness, he laughed at himself — leave it to him to not expect the expected: the hand-selected dutiful wife would, in fact, be dutiful.

he had to put an end to it. he couldn’t keep saying no for another week. how was he expected to get better if you kept bothering him?

so he let you in. this once. just this once. he reasoned that if he let you in this once, you would be less persistent. just this once — and another problem would cease to plague his mind.

just this once, he chanted in his head. just this once.

he sat up straighter, and attempted to shape his hair so it wasn’t terribly unkept. he reasoned that if you saw him appearing to be healthy, you wouldn’t feel the need to come back. he thought —

but he couldn’t finish the thought.

because you walked in.

smelling like fucking lilacs.

lilacs, of all things. lilacs! not roses, not anything else — lilacs. he did not hate lilacs, but he despised the actual flower. only beautiful for so long before it died and the stench was intolerable. an inconvenience. a nuisance. a guaranteed future problem.

however, when you gifted him with a small smile — you realized why small shows of beauty were so valuable in this world. no one else saw your smile — except for those closest to you. people he hand selected to be around you to prevent future problems. he realized then — he had more control and ownership over your smile than either of you thought.

he was so stunned by your smile he didn’t even notice the tray of tea and cakes in your hand. you took a few steps towards him and he shifted in place.

“i brought your favorites,” you spoke softly. “i know you should rest — i just wanted to ask if there was anything i could do to make your recovery easier.”

“no, thank you,” he replied, voice raspy. “i should be well in a few days.”

you nodded and offered an uneasy smile. his eyes flickered over to how once you had set down the tray on his beside, you slowly wiped the palm of your hands down the front of your dress. your eyes were cast absentmindedly in front of you, on the wall — and he could tell something was plaguing your thoughts.

he then also realized there was a book on the tray, much to his dismay.

“someone had mentioned that this was your favorite author. this was published a few days ago,” you began. “i understand that you have been experiencing headaches, and may find it difficult to read… so i wanted to offer to read aloud for you, in case you found these walls dull.”

you smiled — it was an attempt at a joke. he smiled back, but only to be polite. “today i find myself wanting to sleep. i appreciate your offer.”

you smoothed your hands over your dress once more before nodding and forcing a smile. “i’ll leave you to it, then.”

you did not bid him farewell — and he found himself wondering if he was annoyed or grateful. you simply exited the room, and let the door shut softly behind you.

he scrunched his eyes at the door, swallowing hard.

however, he didn’t understand why.

he had wanted this. the perfect wife — knowing when to take a hint and frankly, fuck off. you had done that, perfectly well — so why was he pissed?

he then found himself glaring angrily at his favorite tea cakes. the swap of sugar for honey, another one of his favorites. his favorite author, a book he was excited to read when he was better. he knew that you hadn’t asked about him — he employed people with the requirement to let him know when you were asking questions. he knew your every outward thought and concern, and sometimes even the ones that weren’t shared aloud because they were so evident on your face.

and then he realized: you noticed things like he noticed things.

however, he knew why he went out of his way to notice things, but why did you?

his jaw clenched as he glared angrily at the wall in front of him. he picked up a tea cake and chewed it aggressively, swallowing it half-intact. he coughed at the barely there food, anger rising further to his flushed cheeks.

he needed to understand how, and he most certainly needed to understand why.

he never went out of his way to get to know you, because he thought he already did. he thought he had you boiled down to one thing, and one thing only: passive. incapable of proving to be any sort of roadblock that was capable of getting in his way. now that he knew you shared something with him, what else was shared? was there something he had to look out for? was there something he missed? was he wrong about you?!

he had to know. he had to.

to do that… he called you back that evening. it was two hours before midnight, and he knew you were awake. despite having separate chambers, he knew your daily schedule. you would be reading at this moment, and he would ask you to read for him.

as if on cue, he heard a soft rapping on the wood of the door. he beckoned you in, and you entered the room. you were clad in a night dress with a matching robe over it, all pink silk. this time, he returned your smile.

"i apologize for the late hour," he spoke. "i hope you had not retired for the night."

you shook your head, your tendrils of perfect hair shaking slightly. "i was reading. i am glad you sent for me — can i get you anything?"

"i was hoping the offer to read for me was still on the table," he rasped. "i find myself unable to sleep."

you blinked once, staring at him. in an instant, a small smile was threatening to overtake your face into a large one. you cast your eyes down to a blushing manner, but his eyes narrowed slightly on your face. what would you get out of reading for him? what we he not seeing? what did he miss?

"of course," you responded. "i have not had a chance to read anything by this author. i am glad i have the chance now."

why. why. why.

he did not show his discontent. he simply rested back against the pillows as you reached for the book on his bedside table. you sat down on a chair on his side, and you crossed your legs. he eyed the small portion of the exposed, soft skin of your legs and wondered if your new ploy would be to try and seduce him. however, you quickly covered your skin with the extra material over your robe and placed the book in your lap. once opened, you read for him.

he was not listening to what you were saying, but he was listening to how you said it. the tone, the enunciation, the pauses, and the speed. he wanted to find some clue as to why you had made it a point to be at his beck and call, and he wanted to see how long the act would last until it dropped.

the act would drop. it always did.

the hour would approach midnight before he found that he could not discern anything from how you were reading aloud. his plan did not yield the results intended, as you had not broken from fulfilling his task for two hours. two hours. you had not stopped out of boredom or exhaustion, nor to talk to him. you were poised, soft, and he hated to admit it... but sweet. he found your voice sweet, and he hated it.

and he fucking hated himself for it.

he needed this to end so he could plan further. out of necessity, he yawned. if you were to apt at picking up clues, then hopefully you would believe that he was finally tired. you had succeeded in his given task, and you were free to go.

but you had kept reading for him.

he grew angry.

when you had paused to breathe, he spoke up. "I think i am able to sleep now. thank you, sweetheart, for indulging me."

your eyeline raised with your eyebrows, almost out of surprise. you either were not expecting him to ask you to stop, or you did not want to stop. he wondered which, and if that would answer his ultimate question.

"my apologies, i should've inquired sooner," you replied. "he is a very talented writer... i found myself enjoying his perspective."

you grabbed a piece or scrap paper from his bedside table, and tucked it in between the pages where you left off.

"most people would fold the corner," he remarked, eyes drifting closed — a show.

you smiled. "i didn't want to ruin the integrity of your book. goodnight, coriolanus."

she left with another smile — and all he was left with was confusion, and rage.

the next morning, he found himself wanting to call you back in for a further rouse interview. he would have if he had a plan in place.

that was the second thing about you that annoyed him: you annoyed him to the point where he wanted to act without a plan in place. a loss of control —which he was highly against.

that would have to be righted immediately.

he spent the morning reading the pages that you had already read to brief himself as if he was listening last night. he reasoned with himself that the best course of action would be to ask you to read to him again to see if you had grown comfortable enough to let a few of your true colors slip.

they always slip.

the sudden task that was presented to him gave him a new bout of energy that he needed to inch closer to recovery. it gave him the push he needed to be closer to walking out of this room and continue to run panem, and he was lost grateful to you for giving it to him — almost. at the moment, you were a problem — and that needed to be corrected. immediately.

he found comfort in control, so he was very content with routines. he had grown accustomed to bracing himself for your check-in in the afternoon. however, it did not come until the approaching hours of the evening had almost descended upon the capitol. he waited, and waited, and waited — so long that he considered asking you to come for himself. the hour would approach dinnertime when you had finally asked about his well-being, and he sent for you.

how dare you ask so late in the day, as if you didn't care? he allowed you access to his life that he had denied you for so long, and you return his kindness with carelessness? this would not do. this most certainly would not do.

you had knocked on his door, and he had to stop himself from sounding to eager. he permitted you entry, and you entered with the same soft smile.

"good evening," you greeted.

"hello," he replied, voice still raspy from his sickness.

"I wanted to ask if you need anything," you announced.

he offered a small smile. "i enjoyed our time last night. perhaps you would read for me, again?"

your eyes fell to the floor in a blush. "of course. I was hoping to read more of the book eventually. i found it intriguing."

you sat down in the chair and pulled the book in your lap. as you were opening it, he spoke, "i thought when you had not checked-in in the early afternoon you found the book dull — afraid i would ask for you to read it for me again."

you shook your head as you smiled. "i like his writing very much — i was concerned as to whether i had prevented you from sleeping the night prior, and didn't want to disturb you further."

he swallowed. "why would you have disturbed me?"

your eyes glanced upwards from the pages to rest on his face. coriolanus stared back as slight concern washed over your features, making your lips part and your eyes widen. your tongue darted out from between your lips, and smoothed over the skin of your bottom lip. you responded, "before you fell ill, we hadn't spent much time together and i understand that is because of your position — but, to be frank, i wanted to respect your space.”

your answer perplexed coriolanus. he wanted to find out what type of person you were — and your answers were not yielding the expected results. there was no obvious form of manipulation in your words, which then worried him. were you smarter than he believed you to be? were you as cunning as him? more so?

so he went with what was natural: manipulation.

“i apologize my station has not granted us the freedom to get to know each other further,” he replied, holding your gaze. “it is a regret of mine.”

you smiled in an affirmative manner, like you didn’t believe him but accepted his answer anyway. this expression arose the same feelings he now detested your presence for: he acted without calculating his actions and the outcome they would produce.

“what troubles you?” he asked.

your lips parted and slightly quivered. you were not expecting him to ask.

“i-i was worried that i may not… please you,” you admitted. “that… you may regret our union.”

“you have been a kind and dutiful wife,” coriolanus spoke, eyes holding yours. “there is no regret.”

there was that affirmative smile again. he found himself hating it — wishing it would be replaced by the warm, soft one.

“i guess i was hoping that, when i was married, the marriage would be more than… a union.”

your candor shocked coriolanus. he would never have expected you to say something… so out of turn.

“please, forgive me,” you spoke, slightly laughing and waving your hand in the air. “the hour is almost late and i was hoping to read more. do you still wish me to?”

“please,” he answered and nodded.

you gave him a quick, thankful smile, and began reading.

this would be the second night coriolanus had not listened to a word you had said.

he had gotten his answer, and it was possibly as bad as the one he was actually afraid for.

you were good. pure, innocent, and your outlook on the world untainted. you were not striving to find a loose screw and let the empire fall. you wanted… to support the man who built and kept the empire together. it was worse than anything he could’ve ever imagined — you actually cared for him.

you cared for him, and now coriolanus snow was fucking terrified.

and yet... he had asked you to return to his chambers every night after that.

for research purposes, of course. only research purposes,

to read to him, but his goal was to learn more about you rather than the text.

you would sit there and read until he asked you to stop. when he did, you would close the book, smile at him, place it back on his nightstand, and bid him goodnight.

after, he would wrestle with the blankets and pillows in order to find out how to deal with this.

how had he not expected this?

his only fault was that he neglected to realize how far your shyness would go. you had grown comfortable with him — and you admitted that you wanted something more, something he always felt he could not give. you weren’t shy — you just weren’t open with people you weren’t comfortable with.

he should’ve known. he should’ve. fucking. known.

he didn’t know how to deal with this, if he was being honest with himself.

he told himself that he asked for you every evening to get to know you better, for his own sanity and safety; but then he began to realize he had found out everything he needed to know.

good and honest. how fucking unfortunate.

he saw a part of you, but now he needed to know more.

so what did he do? he sent you flowers. flowers. an arrangement of red roses and lilacs.

he hated himself for the lilacs.

he got somewhere with you when he had made the first move before — maybe this would yield more promising results.

however, it didn’t.

all he received in return was an extra tray of food that had arrived in the afternoon. his favorite tea cakes, and a handwritten thank-you note detailed in your appreciation for the beautiful flowers. you signed your name, and that was it.

she doesn’t make first moves, he thought. she responds to them.

he knew what he had to do.

he found himself feeling better that day — well enough to end his sick leave and return to his matters. dinner was approaching, and he sent for you to join him for a private dinner this evening.

he was washed, dressed, and coiffed within the hour.

he found you in the dining parlor waiting for him, inspecting his large bookcase. you were trying to reach a book a bit above where your height would allow, extending yourself onto your toes. coriolanus walked up behind you, towering over you, and retrieved the book for you.

you glanced up at him with wide eyes. “thank you, coriolanus.”

“what intrigued you?” he asked, grinning softly.

“first one i couldn’t reach. i was working my way up.” you smiled at him, and then the book. “please — you must be hungry. let us eat.”

you sat down at the table across from him. dinner manners were rather stiff and uncomfortable, but your upbringing that was similar to coriolanus’ prevented you from straying from them. you ate in silence for a few moments before you spoke.

“how do you like his new book?” you asked.

coriolanus cleared his throat. “i find it riveting. i wouldn’t have been able to read it for some time if it hadn’t been for you.”

you smiled at your plate, blushing. “his points are very interesting. i was never very interested in politics — so the insight of someone so heavily involved with them is very informative. do you find that your opinions align with his? or does he not share your perspective?”

he appreciated your willingness to engage with him about topics you weren’t very fond of. an underrated trait, not found very often — he had to admit.

“a bit of both,” he responded. “the one thing he does not discuss is how important it is to have a certain type of person or persons in your regime that allows the flow of success to continue.”

you nodded. “you have built a strong administration — i’m sure he would admire what you have to say.”

“what do you believe?” he asked. “about partnerships?”

you swallowed, contemplating your answer. “i think… a successful partnership is where everyone is complimented by another. for instance, someone is better at briefing documents rather than the presentation of them, and another is the opposite.”

“which one are you?” coriolanus inquired.

you paused once more, folding your lip under. he realized that was a sign you were uncomfortable — unaware of how to proceed. after a moment, you answered, “i feel the most confident under a strong leader. i prefer to be behind the scenes. minute details are easier to be taken care of that way. while you and i are different, i respect you for being the strong leader panem needed. i am sure the majority would agree with me.”

now was the time.

“it is easy to be strong when one’s wife makes sure they are well,” he replied, eyes resting on your face. “i hope you know i appreciate your willingness to accept change and make sure needs are met.”

you smiled at him once more, then turned back to your food.

damn, he thought. didnt bite.

“and for being the companion i… didn’t think i would come to enjoy the company of,” he added.

you glanced up at him then, astonishment written in your eyes as plain as the words on the paper you read for him every night. “may i ask you… a question?”

he nodded.

“did you believe you wouldn’t enjoy my company before, or after you had first met me?”

“i don’t understand.”

you swallowed, clearing your throat. “were you… wary of the idea of marriage, or wary of me?”

your gaze did not break from his. you were braver than he thought.

“marriage,” he answered honestly, hoping to witness your reaction.

there was the affirmative smile — the one he hated. “thank you for — for being honest.”

your eyes didn’t wait for a response. you turned back to your food, and left him dumbstruck.

“i hope i have not displeased you,” he stated.

“no, coriolanus,” you spoke. “if i am being honest… i was wary i would not be suitable for you. if i have not displeased you, then i am well.”

“but you stated you wanted more,” he countered, tone even.

“i hoped we would… spend time together,” you answered. “and we have.”

it was coriolanus’ turn to be at a loss for words. what would this admission relay? it only solidified what he was afraid of — you wanted a marriage filled of love, and he was not prepared for that. ever.

“the flowers were beautiful,” you spoke, interrupting his thoughts. “thank you for sending them.”

“your lilac perfume is a wonderful addition to the capitol,” he spoke, unsure where this had come from. “i wanted you to know that.”

you weren't supposed to say that you weren't supposed to tell the truth you weren't supposed

you smiled at him appreciatively, that accompanied a slight twinkle in your eye. you were quick to return to eating, but coriolanus couldn’t stop staring at your face. he realized then that was his new favorite smile.

there was a moment, a small moment, where he wondered whether it would be such a crime if he did allow himself to enjoy your company more than he had. in that moment, he couldn’t think of how it would go wrong. for that moment, you were a simple, low-maintenance, beautiful woman on the other side of the table with him that just liked spending time with him — and he enjoyed that you weren’t a problem. would it so bad if he entertained the idea?

he immediately cut himself off. of course it was a bad idea.

once dinner has finished, he had requested to walk you back your chambers. if time spent together was what kept you at bay, he could manage that. he most certainly could.

when the pair of you had approached the door, you stopped for a moment and paused reaching for the handle. you spoke, “would you… like to come in?”

“not tonight,” he rasped. he gave you a polite smile. “another time.”

he watched as you blinked your eyes a few times and your lips quivered. you didn’t meet his gaze, for it fell — in what appeared to be embarrassment.

oh.

you invited him in to… to…

that he had not expected.

before you had the chance to leave, he swooped down and grabbed your chin in his thumb and forefinger. he pressed his lips to yours ever so softly, holding it there. the moment your breath caught in your throat, there was a strange feeling inside his chest that made him feel like he’d like to quell your worries by catching you off guard another time. and another. and another. and another. he couldn’t have you feeling rejected, no — not when he didn’t want to reject you. he needed heirs, sure — but they could wait. he would contemplate how long later.

once he pulled back, you smiled. inside you were bursting, and you wanted to hurry behind a closed door so he could not see your reaction. he continued to hold your chin and gaze at your face. feeling brave, you looked him in the eye as you bid him goodnight and went into your room.

you left him standing outside your door, facing its wood paneling.

what was he to do?

he wanted to keep you as emotionally far away as possible to avoid anything like this occurring. he was prepared for people who had an ulterior motive… not a young woman who only wanted to be good to her husband.

the worst part was… not every part of him wanted him to keep you away.

would it be so bad, if he had actually courted you?

you were not anyone from his past, no. you were not irresponsible and impulsive, and you could be trusted to remain within a designated role and space. you were rarely outspoken — you never strayed from your cue cards, nor did you get smart in private. you never spoke out of turn, which coriolanus always knew — this was just the first time he was more turned on than he was just grateful.

he reasoned a reward was in order.

he found his knuckles wrapping on the door before he could stop himself.

the small movements inside your apartments stalled for a moment, pulled taut like a string in an instrument. he could picture you — standing still and silent, waiting for an explanation.

then he heard footsteps approaching the door before the door handle turned. when you opened the door, the first thing he saw was your eyes.

those big, beautiful eyes that looked at him with surprise — and the slightest bit of hope. coriolanus would most likely try to convince himself that he stayed completely still to exercise a form of control over you — but deep down, he would never be able to believe that completely.

however… when you reached out with your soft, delicate hand, and pulled at his own — it didn’t matter why he did it, because he won.

he shut the door behind him, keeping your gaze.

“i would be coy and ask if we could spend time together in a... different way than usual…” you began, sighing. “but up until this moment i was convinced we would never…”

coriolanus was in no mood to quell insecurities and anxieties. he understood that words could not compare to actions, and so he would do just that.

coriolanus stepped forward, and pressed his large hands against the sides of your face. for a split moment — you almost looked terrified. he usually relished in that look from others, but with you it only made him concerned — angry, even.

“i don’t know what it is about you.” his voice was shaky. it was the first moment in your entire marriage that coriolanus had shown even a shred of weakness. “you smile, you obey, you take my transgressions like they’re fucking sweets. why?! tell me!”

your big, round eyes were blown wide as your brow was knitted together. your lips were parted in an innocent manner, and it only fueled his anger. one of your hands came up to gently lay across the back of his. “coriolanus — have you ever considered that i just wanted to get to know you?”

his eyes searched yours like they were an important document and he couldn’t believe what bullshit he was reading. his lips pursed in a manner that suggested a sour taste, and you felt your joy slipping, slipping, and slipping.

“coriolanus — if you want to go, then go.” your voice was breaking. you knew he was a cool, hard man — but this? this? it was almost too much. “you don’t have to stay if you don’t —“

he couldn’t take your nonsense anymore. he shut you up with a kiss.

he smashed your lips together like it was the first thing he should’ve done when he walked back into the room. a squeal died in your throat at the contact, but coriolanus held you there and upright. both of your hands found the firmness of his chest for balance. when he pulled away — he barely did. he kept his lips an inch away from yours as little tuffs of air pushed past. he leaned his forehead against yours, almost bonding the two of you.

“my greatest displeasure will be making you regret this,” he rasped, eyes screwed shut.

your breathing began to hasten as you contemplated your next words. you began to stroke coriolanus’ hands with your thumbs, hoping to coax him. “you say that like it’s inevitable.”

“it is not far from,” he choked through anger and sadness.

you couldn’t help but stare back at him as he almost glared at you — but then you realized that wasn’t the case. he wasn’t glaring at you — he was glaring through you. whatever traumatized him, whatever made him so distrustful of the world around him and the people in it… you realized then that you represented all of that to him. you had to be different. you had to show him that you were different than all of that.

“i’ve trusted you,” you whispered, almost pleading. “i would like for you to try and trust me. please, coriolanus… i’ve never asked you for anything — just this once —“

coriolanus shook his head, dismissing you. “it’s corio.”

he slammed his lips to yours. his kiss was that of a fight; burning with every cut of anger, frustration, desperation, and sadness in his soul. you weren’t sure if he accounted for your inexperience, but you let him lead as you swallowed all of his suffering. you knew you may never be everything you wanted to be for him — but for this moment, or for whatever he would allow — you could be his escape, and he could be yours.

just this once, you both thought. just this once.

his hands were on both sides of your face, caging you in as you were at the mercy of his bittersweet affection. you tried to keep up with him, almost afraid that you wouldn’t be enough for him — but corio didn’t care. he couldn’t have cared less as he backed you into the foot of the bed. he didn’t stop kissing you as the back of your legs hit your soft mattress, and you were forced to sit down.

with his tongue tangling with yours, you managed to lift your hands to the top buttons of his shirt. he batted your hands away and went to work on his own buttons. you reached behind for your zipper to your dress and attempted to undue it.

corio then pushed your hands away with that too — ripping the zipper down its track and pushing the sleeves down your shoulders.

“corio —“ you gasped through the kiss, struggling to keep up with him.

he pulled away for a short moment, staring into your eyes. “i have denied myself being with you for so long — nothing is stopping me now.”

he held the glare, and you could only stare back at him in fright. however, that was when you realized that he had felt the same way, or at least similar — you both wanted each other, and had been scared to approach the other. your heart filled with warmth, threatening to explode, but all you could do was nod.

he seemed to calm down then, glancing down towards your lips where he prodded your bottom lip with the tip of his numb. “i have wondered for so long what it would be like to kiss my perfect wife — and now that i know, i don’t think i’ll ever give it up.”

you smiled at that. “can i tell you what i have been wondering?”

his eyes met yours once more, almost a warning. you didn’t falter, though. he replied, “yes?”

“i’ve wondered what it would be like to please you,” you spoke softly, a pink hue rising to your cheeks.

his flat look broke then, softening. a smirk greeted his features and you could see his confidence in himself rise. “my lovely wife wants to please me?”

“yes,” you spoke, holding your breath. “if you’ll let me.”

bright and striking, flames of mischief came to light in his irises. emotions of excitement and fear rose within you, and you weren’t sure which was stronger. all you could do was watch as your strong, powerful, larger than life husband stood over you, chin raised, looking down his nose at you, as he unbuckled his belt. his pants and briefs, once around his ankles, were discarded — but you didn’t see that. you couldn’t look away from his eyes — holding you, and your gaze, in place.

it was like you were an enemy he was testing. you didn’t know what he expected, let alone what would make him happy — but you hoped his expectations were slightly lower in light of your inexperience. you swallowed the hard rock of nervousness in your throat, stood up, and gestured for him to sit down on the edge of the bed. he raised an eyebrow at you, but complied. you sat down on your knees in between his, and waited patiently for direction.

“can you…” you began. “can you teach me?”

he smirked once more. “take me in your hand.”

you bent your head lower, and grabbed him by the base. he was hard and warm in your hand as you saw him trying to fight the twitching feeling in his limbs. his muscles were tight, afraid to show weakness. you grew uncomfortable — you didn’t want him weak, but you did want him to feel comfortable enough with you to enjoy a fucking blowjob.

holding his muscle upright, you stuck your tongue out and licked around the tip of his cock. he was salty, but smelled so masculine after a long day. his scent infiltrated all of your senses and had captured your attention. it made you hungry, greedy — so much so that you closed your lips around his cock and began to suck.

he jumped then. “teeth,” he spat.

you paled in embarrassment and fright — but didn’t allow your fear to show for long. you adjusted your tongue and lips — so that your top lip was folded under your top set, and your outstretched tongue covered your bottom set. hollowing out your cheeks, you took him into your mouth once more.

a low hum filled his chest.

you couldn’t see him, and could barely hear him — corio was being a selfish lover and not letting you know whether or not he was enjoying himself. he told you once before you were doing something wrong, so you tried to trust that he would tell you.

that was easier said than done, frankly. with your free hand, you reached up and began to massage his sack in the soft skin of your palm. the hum in his chest turned deeper and louder, and you felt his hips twitch once.

maybe it shouldn't have mattered that he wasn't vocal — but it wasn't like he was shy. you would not fault him for not doing something he didn't want to do, but it was like he was denying you that. if you were making him feel good, and he was fighting the volume of his moans — how fucking dare he deny you of that! there you were, constantly at his beck and call, and he couldn't even freely moan with you? you were obedient, quiet, grateful, everything he wanted — but this? this? too much. absolutely too much of an ask.

you had to do something.

"mr. president," you cooed, twisting your soft tongue around the tip of his cock. "you're awfully quiet above me."

he let out a laugh as he struggled to keep his composure. one of hands found the back of your head as his fingers struggled to tangle themselves in between your strands. they were tugging and pulling, but there was no strength in his grip. his grip — wouldn't catch. couldn't catch. corio, you husband — struggled day in and day out to keep the control in the capital and inside his castle. there was a part of you that believed he just needed to let go, let someone else be in control — but you were his pretty little wife after all. you had until death to try everything. losing control could wait, because tonight... tonight was about making corio the grateful one for once.

you let your loose grip run circles up and down the length of his cock. his shaft was wet and thick, begging the attention of the light from above so the skin was able to glisten. the tip of his cock, red and angry, almost neglected — never had you seen something so delicious, nor deserving of affection. your lips, swollen, wrapped themselves around the tip of his cock as you sucked. notes of salt and sweat mixed together on your tongue, and you hummed at the taste.

"taste sweet, mrs. snow?" you heard from above you. your eyes glanced up to find corio's eyes glazed over with pleasure. his eyelids were drooping over, and all you could think about how badly you wanted to make him close his eyes in bliss. your eyes watched his eyes, but his eyes watched the way your mouth sucked him in. "being so good for me. let your husband see what else you can do."

your ears perked in interest. you didn't know what he meant, but you were intrigued to see if he would teach you.

"please... show me what you like," you spoke, extending your neck as he lowered his face to yours.

"so eager to please..." he spoke, staring down at you in awe. his hand slid down for your scalp to cup your cheek. he looked into your eyes like he was studying you — searching for something surface level. a flaw, or something good... you weren't sure. "i suppose some would say i'm lucky."

you didn't like the sound of that... but you didn't let it show. you gave him a hint of a smile. "i don't think it matters what anyone else thinks. i think what matters is you telling me what you like... so you can decide if you're lucky or not."

he chuckled at that, but his laugh was reserved. always holding back, your husband. "you really want to be a good little wife for me... don't you?"

you fell into the strength behind the hand on your face and keened into his touch. his hand was warm against your skin. "please, corio... please let me."

he stood then, and your gaze raised with his body. you gazed up at him as he stared down at you. there his eyes went again — searching yours. he stood closer to you then, bending down slightly. "it would please me if, at any point, you told me to stop because of the pain. i don't want to hurt you." his voice was low and soft then, immediately striking you. "can i trust you to do that? hmm?"

"i'll tell you," you replied, nodding your head. "i promise."

"never break a promise you make to me," he warned.

you nodded your head once more, unsure how to proceed. he led you over to the side of the bed where he gestured for your to lie down. with the passing of time, you became more and more aware of how bare you both were in front of each other. you were ready to let down every fence of insecurity for the man before you... but there were still walls of his that threatened to come down. he was hot and cold every other moment, it seemed... and you weren’t even sure where to begin.

“husband,” you spoke, unsteadily, as he found his place between his legs. “you seem so… distrustful of me. what can i do? please, corio, i just want this moment to be special for us — for you.”

there his eyes went — searching yours again. it was like he was rereading a page in a book over and over, hoping to find the hidden message in the black and white scripture. his eyes, going back and forth, appeared to be looking over unclear smudges and scribbles as his lips began to purse. you almost said something — stopped him from withdrawing into himself, but he moved before you could.

he sat back against the pillows, which faced a mirror across your bed. you rose curiously, hoping that he would finally give you some direction. he simply took your hand in his, and gestured for you to come closer. “come,” he spoke.

in his lap, maybe? you thought curiously. you went to throw your leg over his, before he stopped you. with a furrowed brow, you watched as he adjusted you so your back laid against his chest.

“do as i say,” he whispered against your ear, sending shivers up and down your spine.

your eyes were cast to the side, his outline in your peripheral vision. you nodded, letting your lips fall apart. you felt one of his hands on the soft skin of your thigh, grazing upwards towards your hips. you almost let your eyes fall closed, hoping to lose yourself in the sensations, before corio stopped you.

with that same hand, he reached upwards and grasped your chin between his fingers. your eyes shot open as he moved your head to now face the mirror, and the pair of you in it.

shallow breaths were pushing past your lips as you stared into the mirror. your cheeks were flushed, your hair in a slight disarray, and your lips were swollen. with a flutter of your eyelashes, your gaze flickered towards corio’s reflection. your husband was always perfect — so even the slight persuasion from tidiness was a remarkable sight to you. his eyes were focused — unable to remain cool, calm, and collected as usual.

his eyes, you thought. his eyes will always tell me.

“you will watch,” corio spoke suddenly, voice hard. “you will keep your eyes on my hands. you stray, and i leave. understand?”

you nodded, looking into his eyes through the mirror.

he cocked an eyebrow.

“yes,” you spoke, almost breathless. “i understand.”

corio’s hand then found its way to your center. the tips of his finger tips, soft and hot, lightly drew a line up and down your slit. your eyes wouldn’t leave the mirror — focused on his fingertips. it was like your skin knew every correct button to tap, tap, tap. every part of you was so sensitive, so keen to his touch that you were embarrassed. you felt so pathetic against his chest, bent to his will — but you wouldn’t have had it any other way. the voice in your head was whining and hoping you would give in, just give in, let down your guard, give in, forget manners. you wanted to keep your composure as long as possible, but when corio’s middle finger found your clit…

oh… you were done for.

one of your hands immediately snapped up to find corio’s bicep and clutch onto whatever foundation he could give. you didn’t dare let your eyes meet his, even in the mirror — what if he stopped? what, huh? what then? when you were the closest you had been ever? you couldn’t allow yourself to be greedy, not when he was being oh, so selfless.

the circles he was drawing taunted your ability remain calm. he rolled your tiny clit underneath the weight of the tip of his finger and pressed down with every circle. it pushed, and pulled, and fucking pried at every fiber of your being. you could only force yourself up and back against corio, whining like a pathetic mess.

“running away from me, my sweet?” he whispered in your ear. “when i’m being so kind?”

his words bit at your ear, reminding you of your position in his world. your eyes were threatening to drift closed, hoping, praying, that corio would let you slip this once from your responsibilities. naive, you were, to believe that.

“remember our deal, wife,” he darkly cooed in your ear. “one request was all i had. i refuse to be denied it.”

“i know, i know…” you whined, rolling your hips with his hand. “it just feels so good, corio… i’ve never… no one’s ever…”

“i can tell you never knew how bad your body would crave it,” he spoke, nipping at your earlobe. “even your pussy obeys me, drenching my fingers. too sweet for this world, aren’t you?”

“just wanna be sweet for you, corio,” you whined as your vision began to blur.

the approaching orgasm was anything but a warm and fuzzy feeling around you. it was hot and jagged — making your muscles jerk, yet force your hips to roll into every movement of corio’s. the cloud over your brain felt like a warm haze of the finest whisky or tobacco the capital could offer. you were numb, drunk, and unable to process the world around you unless it was corio. his touch, his taste, his scent, his look, his orders… everything was setting you off and keeping you in place all at once. your body was hot to the touch, feverish as it tried to fight your sophistication and just fucking —

“that’s it, sweetheart. so focused on the mirror you can’t even find the strength to let go for me,” he spat, pressing a kiss to your cheek and breathing in your scent. “ride my hand like the good girl you are. you wanted to show me, remember?”

tears were brimming your eyes and blurring your vision. your teeth were gritted and bared for him. one of his hands came up to loosely grasp your throat as your hips began to spasm. it was so much, too much, so much —

“corio, please —“ you cried. “please let me look away. i can’t — i have to cry, i can’t —“

there was no softness in his movements against your aching clit. corio had now employed two fingers to dip into your core, collect your slick, and rub it along your sensitive bud in harsh circles. it sent your mind through a suffocating tube and gasping for air. you were begging, pleading — unsure what would happen if you were denied the ability to finish in peace. you began to cry in frustration and fear, so sensitive to the touch and his approval.

“corio…” you whimpered. “please, please let me…”

“do it,” he spat, holding your throat and kissing your face. “show your husband how fucking messy you can be for him.”

you grasped onto him and threw yourself back.

it was like a rollercoaster. twists and turns, yanking your body every which way. corio’s body rocked with yours as the sensations climbed and fit into every single one of your limbs. your lungs, burning, were screaming for air as you tried to fight for consciousness. the world was white, milky, foggy — unable to navigate, let alone exist in. all you could feel was corio’s body moving with yours and coaxing you through the most insane moment of your entire life.

tears fell down your face, and you struggled to conceal it. corio refused to let you hide from him. he bent his face low to yours and pressed the side of his face against the side of yours.

his breaths were heavy, similar to yours.

“corio…” you whimpered, almost whining.

“i know, sweetheart,” he cooed. “so good for me, weren’t you? asking so obediently and politely.”

you nodded, pressing your forehead against his. “i’m sorry that i was —“

“what’re you sorry for?” he demanded.

you clenched your jaw. “i was — i am — i’m worried i was too much — i was so — out of control —“

he shut you up with a kiss. coriolanus snow refused to allow you to continue, or else he knew he would be offended if he had let you finished.

“i wanted that,” he stated. “every bit of that. what, you don’t find it agonizing to be prim and fucking proper every day?”

you laughed uneasily, a bit spooked by his outburst of aggression. “i thought you — i thought that was what you wanted from me.”

he shook his head. “out there — it’s necessary. in here, when it’s only the two of us? don’t ever hide yourself from me. you must promise.”

you swallowed as your haze began to disappear. “only if you promise the same."

you saw his jaw pulse from the corner of your eye. “i promise.”

“i promise,” you returned.

you quickly reconnected your lips. you couldn't let the moment slip away. you needed to seize him while he was there — trusting you for the first time in your entire relationship. you found both of your hands on the side of his face and held him to you. corio fought for control, but you gave in immediately. the need for him to need you was stronger and more satisfying that anything else you could've experienced in that moment. you turned around, straddling his lap and pushing him down to the bed.

everything you were doing was improper: grabbing your husband, forcibly kissing him, sitting in his lap, pushing him down... you almost stopped. you almost gave into the insecurity and made friends with with meekness and shyness once more. however, you made a promise — and you intended to keep it.

"i want you inside me, corio," you whispered against his lips. "please, i want to feel you —"

"again, sweetheart?" he ripped himself from your lips to grunt out his teasing. "one taste, and you're addicted?"

you hummed approval against his lips, tangling your tongue with his. with one hand on the back of your head, holding your face to his, corio's other hand fished between the pair of you and grasped his leaking cock in his hand. the tip was red and swollen, aching for some stimulation or attention. he spread his precum over his tip and with a firm hand, corio slid his cock inside of you.

you arched your back away from corio. the feeling of him being fully sheathed inside of you bent your attention in every which was. both of your hands cradled the back of his head into your chest, where he found himself nestled between your breasts. his breaths were hot and heavy, moist against your skin. his swollen lips found one of your perky nipples and sucked it into his mouth, caving to his primal urges. coriolanus snow wanted every part of you for himself, and needed to place that claim on every part of your body. he wanted your thighs to shake and ache from being locked around him, your fingers to tremble from your hard grip, and he wanted your lips to be bruised from how hard he made you bite them. and, most of all, he wanted every loud moan to rip itself from your aching throat and fill the perfectly painted walls of this damned room.

he cursed you when you threw a hand over your mouth, and he immediately ripped it away. "don't you fucking dare," he spat.

you ignored him. he was your husband, and he was the scariest man you would ever meet, and yet you ignored him. most of all, your hips ignored him. they began to roll against his own the best they could for their inexperience. up, down, and grinding down was the best they could manage before corio grabbed you by the flesh of your hips and moved you to his liking. and when your mouth parted and a loud cry made your throat shake when he twisted your hips forward, he knew he found the spot.

"do not ever deny me what i am owed," he spat, fucking into that spot that wrapped a tight band around your abdomen. "i want to hear how good i am making you feel, and i will. i get to hear. those are mine. i am owed those."

again, you ignored him. what did he expect when your eyes began to roll back into your head and you began to match his pace? you were close, you were so, so close...

that was when corio grabbed you by the chin, refusing to let up his pace. his eyes were full of darkness, yet focus. like he had found his prey. you tried to focus, tried to give him the respect the deserved... but you couldn't. your mind was swimming, and your arching cunt was dripping down his length and onto the skin of his pelvis. you were lost. so fucking lost.

"yours, corio!" you whined. "all yours. only yours."

his voice was gruff against your lips as his thrust became rougher. "say it again."

your eyes began to drift closed as you leaned your head into the crook of his neck, rolling your hips against his. his cock had found its way to the most sensitive and purest part of you and ripped down every wall you had. you sobbed, "yours, corio. only yours."

corio threw you off of him and your back hit the bed. he was on top of you in an instant. he threw your legs up and pressed them against your chest. with your ankles on his shoulders, he pushed himself inside of you and began to relentlessly punish your perfect fucking pussy.

"mine, you got that?" he spat against your ear. "i have watched you, day after day, put on this fucking act! perfect and proper — but i made a proper whore out of the most desirable woman in the capital, didn't i? and now she's mine — forever warming my bed."

"forever, corio," you whined. your sobs were music to his ears, going straight to his cock. your cunt was raw from the friction and slick, unsure if corio should stop or keep going — but you didn't let him guess. "inside me, corio, please... want it to bad. been so good for you..."

his hand was around your throat and demanding your attention. "as if i'd waste a drop when every man in the capital would be able to see you round with my child. you want that wife? my seed, my child? you want to be fully claimed by me?"

"yes," you cried, tears falling down your cheeks. "give it to me, husband, please —"

corio reached down in between your hips and rubbed your clit with whatever energy he had left. his thrust were growing sloppy, but his movements against your swollen bud were worse. he was hissing in your ear as he continued the assault against you. your moans were loud as they escaped your lips and filled the room, setting corio's skin on fire. sweat dripped down from his brow and down his neck to mingle with yours as your second orgasm of the evening began to approach. it snapped the rubber band in your lower belly and you immediately sobbed into corio's neck. his hips continued to rut in you, forcing you down onto the bed as he swallowed all of your sobs for himself. your nails dug into his back and down his spine, hoping to rip parts from him that he had taken from you.

when corio came, you were in a stupor. cock drunk with your mouth hanging open, dazed. when corio came, one of his hands grabbed your messy pile of hair, wrenching at the roots. he pulled you to the side to suck on the sensitive skin of your neck as he pumped your cunt full of his cum. your walls were hot and sticky, full of him, but it only caused the most sickeningly warm feeling to spread throughout you. every primal need of yours was satisfied, and corio could see every bit of it on your face. the pride that welled within your husband... shameful. no man should be in possession of such an ego boost like making the prettiest, more desired woman in all of panem break from all bounds of social etiquette. you were warm, and wet, and craving every bit of his touch, so he couldn't deny you... not anymore. not when he felt the same. with each sob that left your mouth, he felt a kick in the pit of his stomach as his balls throbbed. never in his life had a woman ripped from him what he had taken from her, cheeks hot and muscles worn out.

he would regret it in the morning, maybe, but not now. no — not now.

"husband, forgive me, but..." you spoke. "my mind is a mess. i don't think i can read to you this evening."

corio rolled his eyes and laughed. "that good?"

you pressed a kiss to his lips as you hummed in approval. "never wait that long to bed your wife again."

he chuckled darkly. "watch it, sweetheart."

---

love u guys sm sorry it was so long ty for reading love u love u love u

-L xooxoxooxox

[atlabeth]

(not so) simple masterlist

pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!reader

status: complete!

summary: coercing lord bridgerton into pretending to court you to avoid the affections of a baron is very simple. that is, of course, until it isn't.

featuring fake dating/courtship, minor rivals to lovers, idiots in love, mutual pining that they think is unrequited, slowish burn, hurt/comfort, a signature bridgerton happily ever after, and my blood sweat and tears!

total wc: 44,497

overall warning(s): historical inaccuracies, period typical misogyny, implied/referenced sexual harassment -- individual, more specific warnings on each chapter. reader is referred to with the last name worthing for convenience

part 1 ↳ 10k words | miss worthing makes an awful sort of proposal to the viscount bridgerton.

part 2 ↳ 7.1k words | miss worthing despises and enjoys the viscount bridgerton's company in equivalence.

part 3 ↳ 9.7k words | miss worthing has a terrible realization.

part 4 ↳ 7.6k words | the viscount has a revelation and miss worthing decides against her heart.

part 5 ↳ 9k words | miss worthing and the viscount find themselves at a crossroads.

[sunsburns]

good luck, babe!

pairing: tashi duncan x fem!reader x patrick zweig x art donaldson

summary: patrick zwieg invites tashi duncan and art donaldson to join him at your engagement party. you think they came to celebrate you and your new chapter and put the past behind you, rebuilding lost friendships, but tashi hopes to stop you from marrying a man you never wanted.

—or: the trio crashes your engagement party

word count: 10k+ (i have a serious problem)

contains: SMUT 18+, smut with a lot of plot, post-challengers movie, fluff & comfort, angst, tashi’s pov but lowkey get's mixed up around the end, foursome, oral (fem receiving), oral (m receiving), p in v, unprotected sed (wrap it before yall tap it), homewrecking, cheating but also not cheating but also a worse third thing, three-way make out, four-way make out, dom!tashi, patrick being nasty, art being a loser, no use of y/n, situationship that lasts 13 years.

author’s note: this fic is based on this request with inspo from the greatest song on earth: good luck, babe! it was supposed to be a quick smut blurb but at this point, you all know i can’t write smut without some kind of angsty plot. everyone is super messy and there is some of the dirtiest smut i’ve written so far (it’s only going to get worse from here). this one is a roller coaster.

It didn't make sense to any of them, how you could've possibly ended up with him. 

Tashi remembered him from Stanford vividly. He came from a white-collared family, with daddy's money that bought him everything he could've ever asked for, yet he still wanted more. He played golf and polo and even dabbled with tennis but never had enough guts or skill to take it seriously. But his dad funded most of the programs and events at the school, so everyone had known him, his charm, his family, and his inability to stick to one thing even outside of sports. He clung onto a new girl every other week, a new girl wrapped around his finger only to be ultimately tossed aside like the rest of them.

"What a dick," Tashi remembered you saying once, stabbing your fork into your salad while glaring daggers at him from across the cafeteria as he bragged loudly to his fan club about how he beat you in a game of tennis. 

Which he didn't. 

You let him win. 

His parents had been paying you to coach him, paid you extra every time you let him win a set or two against you, even if it was off the record. God knows you needed the money.

"I think I'm gonna quit." You said, turning back to glance at Tashi.

"About damn time," she snickered, shaking her head. "I told you you're wasting your time with him when you could be doing something better. Like training with me."

You had rolled your eyes and poked her arm with your fork, "If I'm still trailing after him this time next week, shoot me in the head and put me out of my misery."

Almost thirteen years later, you're walking around with his ring on your finger at your engagement party. A party where your fiancé announced your upcoming retirement after a tennis career run that Tashi would’ve killed for: a six-time US Open winner; two-time gold medalist at the Olympics; and brand deals that would ensure you and the next four generations of your family lived happily under your trust fund.

Clearly, you weren't marrying him for his money.

It made Tashi anxious, because, in some way, she could see that the marriage you will have with your fiancé is far too similar to how Tashi's would have been if she and Patrick stayed together. 

Okay, maybe that was a reach.

Or maybe it's how it would've been if neither of you had gone up to Art and Patrick's hotel room that night. Or maybe it would've been Tashi's ring on your finger instead.

She couldn't shake the bitter taste in her mouth as she watched you laugh with him, your eyes lighting up in the way they always did when you were truly happy. It used to be her who made you smile like that. She remembered the late-night practices, the shared victories, and the quiet moments shared in the comfort of her dorm room. She remembered the promises you both made and dreams of dominating the tennis world together.

But she shouldn't dwell on the past, she shouldn't think about what-ifs. At least that's what Art tells her with a hand on her shoulder. Tashi glances at his hand, noting the wedding band that rests on his finger. The squeeze he gives is meant to be reassuring, but instead, it feels suffocating.

"I'll never know how he bagged her," Patrick tuts from her other side, a drink already in his hand. He holds it close to his mouth, biting the rim of the glass before taking a swig, his eyes never leaving you. His gaze is shameless, tracing the way your dress hugs your curves, how your hair shines under the chandelier lights, and the way your lips move as you speak.

"Lucky, lucky man..." Patrick shakes his head, a bitter edge to his voice.

A waiter passes by, offering hors d'oeuvres, and Patrick takes enough for the three of them for himself, setting his empty glass on the platter. As he stuffs an appetizer in his mouth, he begins to walk away, his eyes fixed on you.

"Where do you think you're going?" Art asks, his hand slipping from Tashi's shoulder.

Patrick spins around, mouth full, and shrugs. "To congratulate the future bride."

Art and Tashi stand there, watching, almost dumbfounded when they see Patrick sneak up behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle and lifting you into the air. You shriek, champagne spilling from your glass, but once you see who it is, a wide smile breaks across your face.

"Patrick!" Tashi can hear you from across the hall. Patrick lifts you again, hoisting you into the air. You wrap your arms around his shoulders as he spins you around, your laughter ringing out—a sweet melody that draws the attention of everyone nearby. "You made it!"

Tashi feels a pang of surprise. 

You and Patrick had been in closer contact than she imagined. It stings, a reminder of the distance that had grown between you after her injury, much like the distance that had grown between Art and Patrick. She never knew you had turned to Patrick for comfort. Though it made sense—Patrick was the one you invited, not her, not Art. Patrick was the one who had to ask if he could bring two guests instead of the traditional plus-one. 

But surely, you must have known that if you invited Patrick, Tashi and Art would come too, right? 

Right? 

The question churns a pit of dread in her stomach as Art starts to lead her closer to you out of courtesy.

Patrick's arms are wrapped tightly around your torso, his hand resting too low to be innocent, but you seem happy nonetheless. Happier in Patrick's arms than in the arms of your future husband. You embrace him close, the ring on your finger glimmering under the chandelier lights as you hold onto the back of his neck, your laughter finally subsiding as the spinning stops.

As Tashi and Art approach, the reality of the situation hits her harder. She's watching from the outside, a spectator to your happiness, feeling the sting of what could have been. She forces a smile; your engagement to the worst person in the world can't possibly be the thing that makes her break. Not after everything she's built since she started coaching.

Art tries to catch your eye, offering a polite smile once you let go of Patrick. "Hey."

"Hi," you say breathlessly, a bright smile across your face while Patrick swings his arm over your shoulder. You seem happy, almost relieved that Tashi and Art were here as if you doubted their attendance. "Wow, it's been so long. You guys look great."

"Thanks," Tashi finally says, the words weighing on her tongue like lead.

"You look beautiful," Art tells you, and it's rushed as if he's been trying to keep it to himself but couldn't help it once he was close enough to you.

Before you can get a word out, another arm wraps around your waist, discreetly pushing Patrick away from you to slide into your side. Patrick lets out an annoyed groan, stepping aside as your fiancé squeezes you tightly and says, "She does, doesn't she? Hey, killer."

You turn to him, about to say something, maybe greet him back, maybe introduce him to everyone. But he doesn't let you, he's leaning closer until his lips lock with yours. It takes you by surprise—you flinch at first before finally letting him kiss you properly, his hand cupping the back of your neck, pushing you as close to him as humanly possible.

Art lets out a low, awkward sigh while watching it happen before him, and Patrick rolls his eyes, stepping back in search of a waiter for another drink.

He holds onto you like you're a prize he's won. Almost as if he's been competing with everyone in the world to finally hold you and show you off. As if that's all you had to offer.

You blink, clearly embarrassed, as you clear your throat to disperse the awkward tension in the air. "These are some, uh," you stumble over your words before nodding towards Art, Tashi, and Patrick, "some old friends from college. I'm sure you remember—"

He's interrupting you again, reaching out with the hand that's not on you to shake Tashi's hand. He holds it tightly, his thumb pressing against her wedding ring. "Tashi Duncan, how could I ever forget? Still beautiful as ever."

She has to force herself to smile, for your sake. "Good to see you too—"

"You know," your fiancé starts, cutting her off, "I still remember the time you told me to suck a bag of dicks 'cause I took up your court time. Best day of my life."

"Yeah," Patrick laughs. He's found another glass of champagne to sip on, and it's by his lips when he says, "who doesn't love getting cussed out by Tashi."

You wince. "Patrick—"

"No, no. He's right. It's one out of a million. I took it as a compliement," your fiancé says, glancing at Tashi again, his eyes darting up and down, lingering on her wedding ring once more before she finally pulls her hand out of his grasp. He spots the arm Tashi has been clinging to. "Art Donaldson, I'm a big fan."

Art stiffens as if taken by surprise. "Really?"

Your fiancé is nodding, and when Art glances your way for a split second, he tugs you closer. "You're incredible. Watching you play, it's like, woah! He's killin' it out there. Too bad you've retired though, would've loved to see you play longer."

There's a faint redness to Art's face when he nods. "Oh, thank you."

"I've always wondered if I'd turn out the way you did if I stuck to tennis." Then he laughs, nudging your side. "If only this one put me to work like Tashi did to you, maybe we would've competed in the US Open a few times."

You snort and shake your head, the idea of watching the two of them even standing on the court together amusing you. "You couldn't beat Art if you tried."

Your fiancé shrugs. "Maybe Patrick."

"Stop kidding yourself. You can't even beat your nephew and he's twelve."

He hums, turning so that he'll face you. He holds your waist with both hands, caressing you gently. "You sure know your way into a man's heart, baby," he says lowly before kissing you again. It's rough and messy, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. You shriek and press your hands against his chest. He doesn't let go immediately, peeking a glance towards the trio while kissing you.

Tashi feels a knot of disgust tightening in her stomach. The audacity of him to touch you like that in front of them, as if he’s marking his territory, sets her blood boiling just a little bit. God, did no one teach this guy any kind of etiquette?

She catches Art's expression out of the corner of her eye—his jaw is clenched as he turns to look away. Patrick's lips curl in a sneer, the glass in his hand trembling slightly. He fights the urge to throw it.

Your fiancé reaches down and gropes your ass over your silky white dress before finally separating from you.

You stand there, looking flushed and embarrassed, letting him whisper something in your ear before he walks off, joining a group of men who whistle and catcall at him as he nears them. Each jeer and hoot feels like a slap to the face.

"Uh, sorry," you apologize, unable to meet their eyes as you blindly wipe at your chin to fix your lipstick. "That was... I don't know what's gotten into him. He's not usually like this. He's, uh... he's great."

Patrick scoffs, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Yeah, real great."

Tashi can’t help but frown, her heart aching as she watches you fumble. "You can't possibly want to marry him," she wants to say, but the words get stuck in her throat. She can't bear to hear the answer, especially if it's the one she fears.

Art steps forward, his face a careful mask of neutrality. "If you’re happy," he says, but there's an edge to his tone, a challenge. The unspoken words hang heavily in the air: "Are you?"

You nod quickly, too quickly, as if trying to convince yourself as much as them. "Sure, sure. I mean, what’s not to be happy about? His family loves me. I'm retiring this year, and gonna spend more time with my family. Hopefully more time with some old friends?"

"Old friends?" Tashi repeats, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. The casual way you say it, as if years of distance and silence can be bridged with a few meetings, stings more than she cares to admit.

"Yeah, before I get busy with the baby."

"Baby?" Patrick's voice is sharp, almost disbelieving. "You’re pregnant?"

"What? No!" You quickly sputter, shaking your head. Then you pause, a thought crossing your mind and you lighten up a little bit, a hopeful smile gracing your face, "But I do want kids one day. I want three."

"Does he want kids?"

"We've talked about it, but he shuts it down all the time."

"You poor thing." Patrick puffs out, pinching your arm before reaching for your hand and leading you toward the bar. "Let's bring this conversation outside, ladies. I need a smoke. And you all need a drink stronger than his champagne."

The idea of fresh air and a strong drink is appealing. After grabbing a bottle of finely aged wine, the four of you make your way to the garden outside the grand hall. The shift from the stuffy indoor atmosphere to the cool night air is a relief. 

The moonlight casts a silvery glow over the meticulously maintained garden, illuminating the path with a soft, ethereal light. You glow in your pretty white dress, the fabric shimmering as you take a seat on a patch of grass near the rose bushes. The scent of roses mingles with the crisp night air, creating a tranquil yet poignant backdrop. You glance up at the three of them who stand there, watching you.

Tashi raises a brow as you take a long swig of the wine. She didn't remember you to be much of a drinker. 

"It's not that big of a deal," you say, passing her the bottle when she finally sits next to you. 

It's as if her movement had woken the two guys and then Art takes a seat on your other side while Patrick lies down on the grass a few feet away to light a cigarette. 

You pout, "If he doesn't want kids, then we won't have kids."

"But you want kids," Tashi reminds you, but it's more of a question as if she's wondering if that's truly what you want. Don't get her wrong, Tashi loves being a mother, she would kill anyone for Lily, but you wanting kids barely before confirming your retirement threw her off a little bit.

"Of course I do." You hiccup, reaching for the bottle again. "I'm not getting any younger. It's just... he'll come around."

"And if he doesn't?" Art asks, his voice gentle but probing.

"Can we not talk about that right now? I just want to get shitfaced and party."

"Now we're talkin'!" Patrick interjects, his grin wide as he takes a drag from his cigarette. The embers glow briefly in the dark.

"Come on, everybody gather." Patrick flicks his cigarette off to the rocky pathway and snags the bottle from Art's hands. He raises it, nodding at you with that same smirk he's had for years. Snarky, cocky, and yet endearing. "To celebrate new beginnings. Even if your future husband's a dick and can't make you cum nearly half as hard as I can. Good luck, babe."

The rest of you all make a noise of annoyance, rolling your eyes. "Seriously?"

"Shut the fuck up, Patrick," Art scoffs, though there's a faint smile tugging at his lips as you let a giggle slip out past your fake annoyance.

Patrick's smile only widens at the sound of his friends' protests. It reminds him of the good old years when his biggest worry was which shorts he'd wear to his next game. "Cheers!"

As the bottle is passed around, Tashi can't help but feel a pang of nostalgia mixed with bitterness. The comradery of the past clashes painfully with the reality of the present. Is this how things are going to be like now? Is this night a call for a truce, waving the white flag so that all of you could be friends again, now as adults, making plans for brunch and getting the kids together for birthday parties?

You take another sip from the bottle, your gaze drifting towards the moonlit sky. "To new beginnings," you repeat softly, though the hope in your voice is tinged with uncertainty.

Tashi leans back, her eyes lingering on you, a mix of longing and regret pooling in her heart. Art sits quietly beside her, lost in his thoughts, while Patrick’s laughter rings out, masking deeper sentiments beneath his forced cheerfulness. The chatter and music from the hall spill into the garden, the warm lights casting a golden glow over the scene. Patrick talks animatedly about the seasons he thinks he has left in him, and to Tashi's annoyance, you encourage him.

She shakes her head at the way Patrick's eyes light up, glancing at her with a knowing look. Despite her irritation, she can't deny the comfort of slipping back into their old dynamic.

Suddenly, Art hums thoughtfully. He has been mostly quiet, listening to the conversation with occasional quiet laughs. Now, as he puts down the empty bottle of wine, he looks at you, his eyes more alive than they have been in a long time. "I had a burger for the first time in years," he announces, a smile spreading across his face as if he is proud of it.

You gasp, perking up as you reach over to hold his hands. "How was it?"

"Amazing," Art says fondly, "like heaven inside a bun."

"You should've seen him," Tashi smirks, shoulder to shoulder with Patrick, playfully kicking Art. "He was drooling just looking at the menu."

He rolls his eyes, "I wasn't drooling." When you fall silent, he looks at you again, frowning. "You haven't had one in a while, have you?"

You shake your head, "No, I think the last time I had one was when we graduated."

Patrick scoffs, "Bullshit."

You laugh, "It's true! I've been very strict with my diet. And now that I've retired... I don't know..." You shrug, suddenly getting shy as Art starts tracing stars against the back of your hand. "There are so many options, I wouldn't know where to start."

"It doesn't have to be anything fancy," Tashi says.

"Pretty sure I saw an old diner on the way here," Patrick suggests. He stands, stretching and groaning before bending over to take Tashi's hand and help her up.

You sputter, watching them all start to stand before you. "Shut up, we're not driving, you're drunk."

"But sober enough to see how badly you want this," Patrick teases, waving a finger near your face and smirking. "You're drooling."

"No, I'm not!"

"Sure you are," Art joins in, pulling you up to your feet. He swipes a thumb at your chin, "Look right there, by your lip."

"Oh," Tashi grins, "I see it."

"Shut up, Tash, no you don't." The words fall from your lips before you can stop them. The old nickname fits too smoothly as if it hasn't been years since you've called her that. Tashi smiles, feeling like a teenager again, messing around with you. She starts to walk off, Art and Patrick following her while you stand there, dumbfounded and a little breathless from their teasing.

"Where are you going?"

"To get a burger?" Tashi shrugs, and she smirks at you, a mischievous smile that makes you wonder if any of you have ever grown up at all. "You coming or what?"

You try to be reasonable, "I can't just leave."

"We'll bring you back before anyone notices," Patrick bargains, jogging back to your side and taking your arm to lead you to the exit. "Lighten up, when was the last time you had some fun?"

You don't even look back.

You find yourself laughing, nodding as the four of you make your way out of the garden. The moonlight guides your steps, casting long shadows on the path.

The walk is a blur of laughter and shared stories, the kind of carefree joy that you haven't felt in years. Before long, you arrive at the diner. The neon lights buzz softly, casting a nostalgic glow over the parking lot. You can smell the greasy, comforting aroma of burgers and fries even before you step inside.

The few people in the diner stare, watching as what seems to be a runaway bride and three wedding guests stumble and giggle over each other, lips a little purple from the wine you've all had and ordering burgers to go.

Once you have your food, you all find yourselves sitting on the curb of the diner's parking lot, the warm night air wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. Patrick hands out the burgers, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous light as he makes a show of presenting yours to you. "First bite in... how many years?"

"Too many," You take the burger with a chuckle, unwrapping it and taking a bite. "Oh my God," you mumble around your mouthful, "this is amazing."

Tashi watches you, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Told you."

Art takes a bite of his own burger, nodding in agreement. "There's nothing like it."

You shake your head, going in for more, "This is the greatest thing I've put in my mouth."

Patrick, already halfway through his, lets out a loud laugh, "Yeah, I bet."

The parking lot felt like a little bubble of the past, untouched by the years that had separated you. It was strange how easy it was to fall back into the rhythm of your old friendships, how natural it felt to banter and laugh as if no time had passed at all.

Tashi rolls her eyes, though you don't even seem phased by Patrick's joke. "I can't even get mad," you say, swallowing, "I feel like I'm eighteen again."

"Tell me about it," Art agrees. Then he pauses for a beat, chewing on her burger a little slower before turning to you. "You know, this reminds me of that time... when, you know."

"Oh," You snort and nod, scrunching up your face at the memory. "Yeah. It kinda does."

"What?" Patrick looks between the two of you, raising his brow in interest. "What time?"

"It was a long time ago," you tell him.

"Like back in Stanford," Art explains, and then he points between Tashi and Patrick with his burger, "when you two were still a thing."

Tashi sits up straight now, her full attention on you and Art. "Oh, really?"

"It was that time Patrick came for a surprise visit in the middle of our girls' night," you say, nodding your head at her, hoping she'd catch up with the memory. "And you kicked me out of your dorm so you and Patrick could... you know."

Tashi nods. "Have some alone time." She finishes for you.

She remembers that night well: you were both nestled in the haven of her dorm room, the soft glow of the television casting gentle shadows on the walls as the movie played on. You were curled up under her covers, your bodies intertwined, legs tangled together in a comforting knot. The world outside ceased to exist in those moments, leaving just the two of you in your little cocoon of comfort.

Tashi can still feel the sensation of your fingers running through her hair, the tender, rhythmic motion soothing her in a way nothing else could. The warmth of your touch lingered on her scalp, your fingers traced lazy patterns, and she remembered the way her body instinctively relaxed into yours.

But then came the knock on the door, and she felt her heart jump at her throat as she swung her legs out from under the covers and padded softly to the door.

When she opened the door, there stood Patrick, his presence almost surreal. He was holding a bouquet of carefully picked-out flowers, their vibrant colours contrasting sharply with the dim light of the hallway. His smirk was both nervous and charming

"You kicked her out?" Patrick gasps, and Tashi gives him a blank stare. He's acting as if he wasn't even there, as if he didn't stand by her desk while watching her scramble to clean up the mess the two of you made in her dorm and shove you out the door before locking it.

Patrick shrugs, that stupid smirk painted on his lips again before he finishes his burger. "Would've let you stay if it were up to me," he tells you, "The more, the merrier."

"No way," you poke your tongue at the inside of your cheek. "She wanted you all for herself."

"Please, I would've been too distracted with you to even give him my time of day," Tashi admits. "I did you a favor, Patrick. Saved you from blue balls."

He holds a hand to his heart. "I'm so honored."

"But anyway," you start, "while I was walking back to my dorm I bumped into Art, who got stood up on a date."

Patrick blinks, turning to Art. "You got stood up?"

"Was it that girl from marketing?" Tashi asks.

Art's cheeks start to turn red, the flush growing from his neck and up to his ears at the attention. "Yeah, she, uh, she bailed on me last minute."

"I remember you telling me the date went well," Patrick says. "That you guys went out late, bought takeout... you made out in your car," Then, to fuck with him, he adds, "You came in your pants 'cause she kissed your neck. Remember?"

"And that did happen," Art confesses begrudgingly, glaring at Patrick while Tashi laughs. "It’s just... it wasn't with her..."

"It... it was me," you admit.

Tashi wishes she could say she's surprised, but it's nearly impossible because anyone who knew you back in college knew very well about the big crush you harboured for a certain blonde. She knew the way you swooned after him, even if you never tried to admit it because it was too embarrassing.

"Wait, so," Tashi starts, poking at your side and drawing a nervous giggle from you. It makes her smile. "Is Art that guy you told me about, with the puppy eyes and pretty smile?"

"Okay," you puff out, blushing, "I did not say puppy eyes."

"You think I have puppy eyes?" Art asks you, his gaze softening.

When you take a few seconds too long to answer, Patrick claps his hands together and swings his arm over yours and Art's shoulders, pulling the two of you closer to him. "Aw," he teasingly coos at the two of you getting all flustered, "you think he has puppy eyes."

"It was so long ago," you say, running your hands over the soft fabric of your dress. "I don't even remember."

"I'm so sure you don't," Patrick hums, a knowing look in his eyes before he presses a sloppy kiss against your cheek.

You groan, shoving your hand in his face to push him off before you stumble to stand on your feet again, wiping your cheek from his spit. "You're disgusting," you huff, but there's no real bite in your words because there's a faint smile threatening to appear at the corners of your lips. 

You stand there for a beat or two, brushing off your dress and feeling the weight of the night settling in. You stare down at the three of them sitting on the curb, the neon lights of the diner buzzing behind you. You can see the hall where your engagement party is from where you stand; you almost don't want to go back.

"Okay," you tuck your lower lip between your teeth as you hesitate, "this... this has been fun."

"Don't leave yet," Tashi says while Art's smile drops, his face falling in disappointment.

"Yeah," Patrick rushes to stand, reaching for you, "the party was just getting started."

"I really have to get back," you step away. "If anyone finds out I left, I'll hear about it for days. This has been great. Like, seriously, I don't think I've ever laughed this hard since before..." You trail off, your tongue getting tied as you glance at Tashi, then at her knee, covered by the length of her dark purple dress. You clear your throat. "Well, uh, I better go. But thank you again, for the beer and the burgers and the memories. I hope you guys can make it to the wedding."

You start to walk away before they can say anything. Like, on purpose, as if you know that if they tried to make you stay and ditch your party, you would. You would cave to their defences.

The sound of your heels is deafening. Tashi watches you go, she watches how you wrap your arms around yourself, and it all feels too similar to how she watched you go all those years ago and never chased after you. 

"Don’t marry him," Tashi stands from the curb. She's shaky on her feet, taking long strides to walk past Patrick and hoping to catch up to you. She sees you freeze in your steps, barely out of the parking lot. You turn to look at her quickly, face falling in shock at her demand.

"What?" Your voice is quiet, hoping that your ears are betraying you.

Tashi slows down once she is close enough, the distance between you is almost nothing but the gap feels like miles. The red and blue lights from the neon sign blend into a deep purple against your skin, casting an ethereal glow that makes this moment feel suspended in time. She watches your face, sees the way your brows knit together, the flicker of anger and confusion in your eyes.

Her heart is pounding, the blood rushing in her ears almost drowning out her voice. But she forces herself to speak, her voice low and urgent. "Don’t marry him," she says again, each word feeling like it's being ripped from her chest. Her resolve, which had held firm all these years, finally crumbles.

Getting Patrick back into her life had been one of the most complicated, tangled pains she had ever undertaken. The late-night calls, the awkward meetings, the painstakingly slow rebuilding of trust between herself and Art. 

None of it had been easy.

Yet, even with Patrick back, there had always been something missing—a void that only you could fill.

She looks into your eyes, her gaze unwavering, despite the tears welling up. "Please," she pleads, her voice breaking. "Please, don't marry him." The words hang heavy in the air, a desperate plea that carries years of longing and regret. She knows that having you back won't make up for the lost time, and won't magically fix all the mistakes and missed opportunities. But she can at least try, can at least fight for the chance to make things right.

"Tashi, you can't possibly be asking me to—"

"It’s not worth it," she tells you anyway, her voice trembling with the weight of unspoken truths. She knows it’s a risk, a gamble she's taking by laying her heart bare, but she can’t hold back any longer. The years of resentment, of silent longing, bubble to the surface, fueled by the sight of you with someone else's ring on your finger. It's a bitter pill to swallow, the realization that she resented you not for leaving, but for never coming back. 

Why didn't you come back?

Tashi's words hang heavy in the air, a desperate plea born from years of unspoken desires and regrets. "Both of you want different things anyway. You don't love him," she continues, her voice raw with emotion, "it's not gonna last. One day you're gonna wake up in the middle of the night and realize I'm right. You'd hate to admit it, but I will be right. I am right. He doesn't deserve you. He's no good for you."

You scoff, "And you are?"

"You said it yourself," she presses on, her voice barely above a whisper, "You've never laughed the way you do with us. And you kept in touch with Patrick, so that's gotta mean something." It's a feeble attempt to grasp at straws. "Marrying him will just be another excuse, another stupid reason. I thought you were better than that."

Then she remembers that night before you left for London, back in 2012. It's like a distant memory now, a flicker of what could have been. The air was thick with anticipation, the tension palpable as you stood on the precipice of something new. She remembers the way your eyes met hers after your exchange with Art at the hotel bar, a brief greeting with an old friend, both of you at the peaks of your careers. It is a silent exchange of longing and regret. For a moment, it felt like time stood still, like the world was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

She remembers the smell of your perfume, the bitterness of the drink you were having and how she could taste it when she kissed you; tongue running over your teeth, nails clawing at skin, hair tangled between fingers, hot breaths and unkept promises and false apologies and a night of regret.

And then the morning came, and with it, you had to leave. And she never stopped you.

"Tashi… I can't just throw this all away for you. For any of you. You were the one who told me to leave."

"I know."

"Because you know everything, right? Because you know he's not good for me, you know it all."

"I know you."

"No, you don’t," you say, your voice tinged with hurt. "Not anymore.”

Tashi huffs, shaking her head before she reaches out, cupping your cheeks gently in her hands. Her lips hover over yours for a moment, a silent plea hanging in the air between you. She waits, her heart pounding in her chest, for you to make a move—to kiss her, to push her away, anything.

You gaze into her eyes, tears glistening in the dim light, before finally closing the distance between you. The kiss is tender, and bittersweet, a culmination of years of unspoken longing and regret. It's a brief moment of solace amid chaos.

Your hands dig into the nape of her neck, where the short ends of her dyed hair tickle the skin of your wrist. The heat of your engagement ring nearly burns her, the edge of the diamond scraping against her skin.

When you pull away, breathless, Tashi fears this will be the last time she will see you. 

"Tashi, this doesn’t change anything," you say, your voice trembling.

"It changes everything," she whispers, her fingers tracing the line of your jaw. "You know it does."

But you step back, breaking the contact, the distance between you growing with each passing moment. "I have to go," you murmur, the weight of the decision heavy on your shoulders. "I need to think."

As you walk away, Tashi watches you go, her heart heavy with uncertainty. She clings to the memory of that fleeting moment, a glimmer of hope in the darkness. 

Back in the hotel room, an uneasy silence settles among the trio. Tashi steps out of the shower, her mind a whirlpool of conflicting emotions. The press of your lips still lingers on her own, a persistent buzz that crawls under her skin. 

As she rubs lotion into her arms, she takes her time, methodically moving over each inch of her skin as if she could somehow rub away the confusion and yearning. She finishes her skincare routine, staring at herself in the mirror, almost meeting the eyes of the eighteen-year-old girl who had her whole life ahead of her. It's a constant chant in her head not to dwell in the past. 

She has to focus—she needs to find a way to pull Patrick Zweig out of the top 200 ranks and get him qualified for the US Open by the time the next season starts.

Speaking of the devil, when Tashi steps out of the bathroom, she finds Patrick lounging on the loveseat by the open window. Naturally, his shirt has found itself a home on the floor, and a cigarette dangles from his lips.

He perks up when she walks out, sitting up to greet her, "Don't beat yourself up."

Tashi rolls her eyes and climbs into the bed, letting herself sink into the soft comforter. "Shut the fuck up, Patrick. And put that shit out."

"I'm just saying," he shrugs, taking one last drag before flicking the cigarette out the window, grinning when he hears Tashi scoff. "She's a stubborn little shit," he says as the hotel door clicks open and Art walks in. Patrick hums, "Probably only marrying him to piss us off anyway. Been trying to talk her out of it for months. Never listens."

"She might listen to Tashi," Art says, turning to his wife with a hint of optimism in his voice. "Lily's asleep, by the way."

"Right, because my word is stronger than both of yours," Tashi retorts, pulling the blanket over her legs.

Art and Patrick glance at each other before nodding, "Yes."

"Well, yeah."

They all sit in silence for a while, each lost in their own little bubble. The hotel room is quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioner and the occasional rustle of the bedspread. 

Art joins Tashi on the bed, absently flipping through the channels on the television, the remote clicking softly in his hand. Beside him, Tashi pretends to read a book, her eyes scanning the same sentence over and over again without really absorbing the words. Meanwhile, Patrick rummages through the mini fridge, the sound of bottles clinking and wrappers crinkling breaking the stillness.

A quiet knock on the door makes the three of them freeze, their heads snapping up in unison. They exchange hesitant glances, each wondering if they imagined it. Then three raps against the wood sound again, more insistent this time. Patrick scrambles to the door, Art and Tashi close behind him, their curiosity piqued and their hearts pounding.

Patrick swings the door open, and there you are, a sight for sore eyes. You're still in the same dress, though one of the straps has fallen off your shoulder, and your makeup is smudged around your eyes. You hold your phone close, dropping it from your ear.

"I tried calling," you say, turning your phone so they can see Patrick's contact, a simple 'pat' with a cute tennis ball emoji next to his nickname. "You never answered."

"My phone died." He shrugs.

You let your hand fall to your front, where your fingers pull on each other nervously. Tashi can't help but notice the lack of a ring on your finger all of a sudden. She raises her brows at you, a knowing look flashing across her face before she tells you, "Something's changed."

You roll your eyes and step into the room, sliding between Art and Patrick easily. "A lot has changed." You walk until you reach the middle of the room. 

It's a big hotel room, not nearly as big as the ones Art and Tashi are used to staying in, but big and luxurious nonetheless. You fit in perfectly with your white gown and styled hair, a vision of elegance even in your dishevelled state.

You turn, facing the three of them again. "I hope whatever offer you guys were hinting at earlier still stands... I don't exactly have anywhere else to stay, unless I want to hear my mother telling me how she was right the entire night."

Tashi smirks. "You know I'm about to tell you the same thing too, right?" She closes the space between the two of you, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. Her nails brush against your jaw in a feather-light touch until her fingers pause below your lips.

"Yeah, I know."

You don't seem too upset about it. Instead, you're grinning, letting Tashi push her thumb between your lips. The gesture is intimate, charged with unspoken emotion. You're standing face-to-face when she says, "I told you so."

She leads you to sit on the bed, and you let her, nearly tripping over your heels before you land on the soft duvets. Tashi leans down, her nose brushing against yours, and you swallow your heart racing.

"You were right," you murmur. It's hard to maintain eye contact when your skin is buzzing with heat and when there's so much going on in the depths of her eyes that it dizzies you. "I hate it, though."

Her nose is cold against yours, a sharp contrast to the warmth of her breath. You let your eyes fall shut as she slowly traces patterns under your chin, pressing her thumb harder into your mouth before pulling it out. She catches the side of your face with it, making a mess with your spit.

She smiles, "I know you do."

Instinctively, and embarrassingly, there's a shiver rolling down your spine.

Tashi releases a small chuckle, and then, after a final moment, her lips fill in the small gap between you both. You sink into it immediately, heart rejoicing as her lips, warm and smooth, explore your own.

It's a little fumbly, nervous and making you tremble under her hands. Tashi loves every second of it. Her fingers grip your face tighter, mouth pressing to yours with more hunger as you wind your fingers into her hair and sigh. Between gasped breaths and soft sounds of enjoyment, she slips her tongue along your lower lip, and so you open your mouth a little wider.

Tashi ends up straddling you, making out like you're both teenagers again, putting on a show for Art and Patrick. The exhilarating butterflies twirling in your stomach match the memories, too. 

You moan softly as she pulls away from your mouth, her attention shifting to your neck. As you watch Patrick and Art make their way to sit next to you on the bed, the bed dipping, you tilt your head to the side and open up your throat to Tashi. You whimper as you feel her lips drag over your exposed skin. She nibbles and sucks until she finds the sensitive part that makes you cry out.

"Fuck," you whimper. You tug on her air-dried curls, coaxing her back up to your lips so you can enjoy the feeling of her mouth on yours. Tashi sighs, and you can feel her smiling into it while beckoning Art and Patrick to join in.

Their lips are on you in a split second, with Art pressing soft, ticklish kisses against your collarbone, and Patrick sliding his tongue from your shoulder to the back of your ear. He's moaning at the taste of you, sucking a bruise under your jaw while digging his hand into the back of your hair. 

He slowly starts to bring his sloppy kisses to your mouth, lips brushing against Tashi's and your own before she draws back. You whine, pouting as you watch her take a few steps away before making herself comfortable in the cushioned seats by a small dining table. You can't pout for too long, because now Patrick is kissing you, tugging softly at your hair until your back arches.

His tongue presses against yours, pressing as far back as he can reach, swallowing your every moan and whimper. You bring your hand up to scratch at his beard, then run your nails over his scalp. This is when Art starts to get a little bolder by running his hands up and down your thighs, pulling and pulling the long skirt of your dress until he reaches the end of it and he can touch your skin and take off your heels, tossing them aside somewhere.

Patrick traps your lower lip between his teeth, watching it bounce back into its place as he leans back just the slightest bit. You break apart with a whimper. Your half-lidded eyes meet his, then flick down to the trail of spit strung between your glistening lips. He stares at you, cheeks a little red as he smirks, "I've missed this. Missed you."

You smile, breathless as Art's hand makes its way up higher and higher and closer to your heat, his mouth is relentless with its attack at your neck. He grinds his crotch against the side of your leg and you cradle the back of his head with your other hand.

"You saw me last week, Patrick."

"Last week?" Art pulls away. His lips are parted, eyes a little dazed but focused enough to stare between you and Patrick in confusion. Tashi smirks from where she sits and shifts in her place.

"We're not all perfect, Art." You groan, rolling your eyes as Patrick laughs, reaching over you to start pulling down Art's pants who shifts in his place to let him. Once they're off, he looks at you, and it's embarrassing how fast you tangle together, melding together into a pathetic heap on the bed for Tashi and Patrick to see. 

Your lips move in tandem, his soft, pouty lips slitting against yours with ease as you lead his hands to your chest and shove them under your dress.

Art squeezes and fondles your breasts over your bra, his hips jerking against your leg again, almost desperate as his boner presses against the fabric of your dress as it has fallen down again.

Tashi startles you as she settles behind, one knee on the bed while her other long leg steadies her on the carpeted floor below. You let her tilt you backward, parting you from Art and she draws you into an upside-down kiss. The salacious kiss leaves your legs parting for the two men beside you. 

Patrick makes quick work of taking that damn dress off of you and you sputter out a pathetic moan when Art's soft hands tease your hardening nipples once Patrick gets half of it off.

Your dress eventually falls into a heap on the floor in front of the bed, you’d matched with it a white paired set underneath. 

"No fucking way," You peek one eye open slightly to see Patrick scowling while Art runs his hands everywhere he can reach, across your stomach, your thighs, under your boobs, down your back. 

Patrick tilts his head and groans, "I can't believe you wore this shit for him."

Your hand cups Tashi's jaw to deepen the kiss as you both ignore Patrick, only Art snorting out a laugh as he tugs his shirt over his head. 

Patrick slots himself between your open legs, stopping just a breath short of your aching cunt to nip teasingly at your soft inner thigh before dragging his mouth up to your neck again. He revels in the moans he's able to draw from you as he finally comes to caress your face. 

You pull away from Tashi and gasp in a breath. "Kiss me, Pat," You bite your lip, feeling your heart race as he eyes you up so openly. 

"Beg me," He counters with a quirked brow, challenging you. 

Your nose crinkles, "I'm not doing that."

"I'm not kissing you, then."

"Shut up and kiss her, Patrick," Tashi groans, attached to Art. She holds his face the same way she did with you, pulling him closer and letting the man crawl to her. But she's glaring at Patrick with venom behind it you know she can’t mean when she's trembling under Art's gentle touch as he slips off her silky nightgown.

"Come here," You beckon Patrick closer with a fiendish look in your half-lidded eyes.

"Yes, ma'am." Patrick nods, dazed as he obliges. "Anything you want, beautiful," His voice slightly slurs as the space between you diminishes once again. "I'll do anything for you," His husky voice drapes around your name like velvet as it's whispered against your plush lips.

Your hands easily find themselves tangled in Patrick's curly hair and tug him to your lips with aching want. You dive in immediately, lips meshing against and, eventually, catching against his chapped lips. 

A moan escapes from your throat and he uses it as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. From there, it's another flurry of saliva, tongue and entirely too much white-hot pressure building below. 

When you break for a breath, a string of saliva stretches between each of your red, puffy lips. Patrick groans at the sight and pulls you in for a slower, raw kiss that leaves you slick and trembling for more. When you pull apart again, Patrick plants a sweet kiss on Art's mouth before focusing back solely on you, his hand slowly approaching your white thong.

When he starts to rub, you moan into his mouth and start trailing your hand to his crotch, palming his dick. Patrick reciprocates easily and tugs at your lower lip with an impish look in his eyes. 

Lips attack your neck again, pulling you higher up on the bed. You hear pants and clothes being shed from every angle around you before you're surrounded again, hands everywhere.

While Art pulls Patrick into a kiss, Tashi cups your face again and draws you into a gentle one as you settle between her legs, your back to her chest. You rest your head on Tashi's shoulder as you heave out another breath, her hands travelling from your navel to tracing shapes on your clit, over your wet panties, spreading your legs apart with her own. 

"Please, Tash," you whimper as her fingers curl around the edge of the fabric and tug so it strains against your leaking cunt perfectly. She then decides to skim a whisper of her touch against your pulsing ache. 

You gape as Patrick wraps his hand around Art's dick, stoking it, and he lets out the prettiest little whine. Patrick slowly works his way down Art's body, running his tongue between each curve of his muscles, collecting the sweat that's been building on his skin before wrapping his mouth around him, taking all of it in one insatiable bob of his head.

Tashi's nails tickle lightly up your stomach, then in the valley between your breasts and then back down again. It has you spiralling, arching your back as she presses a kiss at your neck.

"You're being so good," she coos into your ear. Your name is only a breath out of her mouth, and she's edging your clit with a gentle roughness that could only come from a woman of her calibre. Tashi pulls your panties aside and flicks and flits about your dripping cunt like she already knows how to make you come undone.

It makes you tremble. You'd sworn up and down earlier about how Tashi didn't know you anymore, and here she is, proving to you that she still does, that she knows every curve and divot of your body, that she still knows what makes you whimper and twitch.

Your hand quickly reaches behind you, between the heat of your back and her body and finds her clit and you try to emulate how she's making you weak. Each quiet gasp you earn from her has you moaning back tenfold under her saccharine trance and she quickly starts pumping two fingers into you.

One particular flick of Tashi's thumb on your clit coupled with her lips gliding against and sucking your own in a wanton kiss sends you over the edge. You moan and cum, back arching as you relentlessly force Tashi's hand against your cunt, searching for more delicious friction. 

She takes you all, and lets you ride it all out on her fingers while swallowing every moan you let out in a lewd, wet kiss. Art and Patrick moan appreciatively at the two of you, then focus back on each other.

Before you're able to come down from your high, Art's shoving his come down Patrick's greedy throat. He swallows it all, pulling off Art's red-tipped cock with a vulgar pop that creates a trail of saliva in its wake. 

Patrick smiles down at you and leans closer, and you think he's about to kiss you but then he swerves and kisses Tashi instead, who removes her hand from your cunt and slowly works it up his thigh until she cups his balls and gives them a gentle squeeze. He moans into her mouth, winking at you amid his impromptu make-out session you were tempted to join.

You shimmy back and turn on your stomach, positioning yourself between Tashi's long tanned legs. "Can I eat you out?" You ask while kissing up her leg, and you want to hear how much she needs you. You bite at your bottom lip as you nuzzle into her juicy cunt. "Tashi?" You look up at her from where your face is pressed against her. Her sweet smell makes you sigh as you tease your tongue with her hip bone. "Please, Tash, let me taste you." 

"Yeah, go for it," Comes her breathless plea.

You finally pull her lips apart, revelling in how she squirms against your hold on her hips. 

You're on your knees, trapped arching between Tashi's long legs when you hear Art clear his throat. You give one long lick up Tashi's twitching cunt before turning around with her slick dribbling down onto your chin to where Art has sidled up behind you.

Art crawls closer to you, "Can I touch you, beautiful?" He tilts your chin up as he awaits your answer. 

When you nod, he easily descends upon your lips, placing a sure hand behind your head as he deepens the kiss into something absolutely filthy. As soon as you break apart, he kisses your shoulder, then down your spine.

Tashi guides you back to her. You allow her nails to tangle in your locks as she forces your head back down against her arching hips.

"Shit," Patrick huffs, rough hands reaching for the globes of your ass while Art's smoother ones trail up your spread, inner thighs. Tashi tugs at his dick a little harder, which has him panting against her lips.

Tashi gasps as you flick at her clit then quickly move to tease her entrance with the tip of your tongue. You flatten your tongue, dragging it across her length and repeat the motion until she whines for you to stop. 

You slurp the combination of drool and slick as you pull away with a pussy-drunk smile. She meets it with a panting, dazed one and removes her hand from your hair to push her own out of her eyes while Patrick sucks at her neck.

"Ah!" You startle forward into Tashi's tits as Art finally breeches your entrance with his index finger. 

"Eat our girl out, Art," Tashi motions for Art to lie down under your spread form to get a better angle. You can't deny that the new nickname drives you a little crazy. "Show her she's ours."

Art's soft hands draw another moan out of you as they assuredly grip your hips to keep you in place while he unleashes teasing licks against your pussy.

Tashi draws you back to her. You'd know that look anywhere—she's ready to cum.

"I want you," Her breath hitches around your name while your tongue steals the rest of her coherent words until she's a withering mess under your touch. 

Her pornstar-worthy moans ring out across the room like a beautiful symphony. Tashi's wanton noises coupled with the wet whines you're unleashing against her folds until the two of you create the lewdest duet this hotel's ever heard. 

She arches against the bedframe as she tells you her near release, tugging at your hair as she draws closer and closer to the edge.

Panting, she draws you against her lips for a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss. 

"Fuck, Tashi," You groan against her plump lips, feeling your own impending orgasm drawing near. "You're so fucking hot, I-"

She cuts off your rambling with another wet kiss. Her tongue flicks out to tease yours before sucking it into her mouth with a lewd slurp. Your hand works alongside hers to leave her shaking and whimpering against your lips as she comes undone by your hand. You smack her cunt lightly, eating the groan she feeds into your open mouth as she rides it out.

Tashi eats your moans as they echo against your messy tangling of lips and tongues.

Art's fingers start to pick up a pace as Patrick, feeling left out, starts thrusting his throbbing cock in the middle of your sapphic kiss with Tashi. You eye the two with half-lidded eyes as you share Patrick's cock with her. After only a few moments in your mouth, Patrick pulls out and releases across Tashi's and your expectant tongues.

"So fucking good to me," Patrick pants as he splatters the last of his come across your faces with a shaky groan. "Best fucking orgasm ever, swear it," He says as he encases his lips around yours, swapping his cum between your mouths before moving to Tashi to do the same.

Art moves out from under you, offering your knees relief as he lays you back against Tashi's stomach to fuck into you.

It's a slow and cruel pace, only made crueller by how Patrick and Tashi touch you like they already know where you want to be touched. Each brunette takes a side, Patrick sucking your tit into his mouth while Tashi's mouth draws you in for a kiss. Her nails tickle at your other erect nipples until you're arching off of her and into Art's thrusts, making him whimper.

"Just like that," Art whines your name. "You're so fucking tight."

It's when Patrick and Tashi move their attention down to your clit that you know you're fucked. Patrick spreads your folds with two fingers, watching as intensely as Art does as his cock disappears in and out of your hole.

"He could've never made you feel like this, right?" Tashi rasps. "He has no strategy, no real game. Just a fucking waste of space. Could never make you feel this good, this loved."

You don't need her to say his name, you know what she means. You're panting, shaking your head against her shoulder. "Never."

"Told ya," Patrick laughs into your skin. "Make her cum, Art. C'mon, man." 

"Fuck- please," You whimper, nodding. "I need to come, baby-" Without warning, you arch off of Tashi. Neither she nor Patrick stops their jerks against your clit as you gasp, eyes rolling back in your head with the thrum of a second wave creeping up on you with a steady building heat. Waves of pleasure roll over you as the tantalizing sensations become too much. You come loudly, arching pathetically off the bed as you desperately reach for Art, to hold him.

You're wriggling in Tashi and Patrick's arms as Art pulls out and releases across your expanding and retracting stomach as you pant out the remnants of your orgasm. 

"Shit," He moans, and his voice sends waves of aftershock across your body while his steady hands draw you against his naked chest for a toe-curling kiss.

You'd never been happier to have invited Patrick Zweig to your engagement party.

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[lalunanymph]

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── as the last woman on earth, a government bounty marks you as humanity’s only hope for repopulation. unexpectedly, stumbling into your college football team becomes your lifeline, but instead of turning you in, they want to impregnate you on their own terms.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── you're now reading . . . 𝐆𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆 + 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊 with isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, barou shoei, kunigami rensuke, chigiri hyoma, nagi seishiro & mikage reo

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── fem!reader, mentions of sexism in medicine, gangbang, breeding, cunninlingus, unprotected s*x, mild degradation, reader gets spanked once, mentions of food, mentions of babies, mentions of pregnancy, reverse harem, reader gets kidnapped, creampies, double penetration, nipple play, mentions of viral outbreaks, home isolation, mentions of human torture and experimentation, apocalypse AU, dark content ahead (10k+ words i am sick in the head)

⇤flip back to the pervtober masterlist

One thing about life you were coming to find out in your short existence, was that it could change in the blink of an eye.

One day, you’re a popular cheerleader everyone loves, on the Dean’s List and speeding through to a life of accolades and financial stability, then the next, a viral outbreak spirals out of control, infecting and offing only women. 

It started with rapid coughing and sneezing. Many expert scientists cited a woman's inferior immune system compared to men. They barely paid any attention to the growing casualties in one half of the population, just like how they turned a blind eye to PCOS or the persistent chronic pain most women seemed to experience throughout their lives. 

As the voices of one half went unheard, the dire consequences slapped mankind fully in the face. 

Birth rates dropped, many nations lost their manpower and society became increasingly violent and hostile. 

Those women that were left were transferred to medical facilities under the guise of rehabilitating them. But, there were the rumours of abuse and medical experiments that arose from shady forums and chat groups. 

You had read some of them from Jienna’s laptop when she was still alive.

Your best friend and roommate was an advocate for women’s rights, even before the world hadn’t gone to shit, and she was the first one who opened your eyes to the blatant mistreatment women were going through official medical channels. When the virus hit, the both of you huddled in your shared dormitory, trading packets of ramen and stories while waiting for more aid to come. 

She always had such a bright smile and determination. The day the virus took her away from you was one you could never forget. 

Jienna laid on her bed, a grey pallor overtaking her once radiant skin. The skincare she religiously applied was gathering dust on her dresser, and everytime she exhaled, it sounded coarser and coarser.

Eventually, she closed her eyes and never awoke again, and you had to page the medical team to extract her body, all while tears streamed down your cheeks and you were hovering on the edge of a full meltdown.

Your family across the country couldn’t even come and see you; your brothers were barred from taking you back home, as every woman in the district was given strict orders to remain at home and behind locked doors to keep the virus away. 

But, it always managed to slip through the cracks. Whether it was from infected food or contaminated medical equipment. 

The virus killed any female it touched.

News reports began surfacing that hens were dying out, impacting the supply of eggs. Cows were dropping dead in fields, the world’s milk supply running dry for the first time in existence. The pregnant black cat you used to feed behind your dorms was found dead behind a dumpster by a group of computer science boys. 

Slowly, the world descended into chaos, and more and more women were disappearing.

It was exactly day 40 of your lockdown when you decided you would run away.

Packing every non-perishable canned food you could find into a big bag, you waited until dusk fell and when the nurses would hand you your dinner. You knew it would be one of the older security guys who used to direct parking on your campus, and he had a bad hip so he couldn’t chase you down. 

As much as you hated hurting him, the first punch in his face was enough to knock him out cold. You hopped over his body, careening down the hallway and pushing yourself towards the outside of the college campus. 

Luck was on your side when you dashed out the front door to find an idle truck. It was from one of the block rangers, and you didn’t hesitate to jump inside of it, revving the engine and stepping down on the gas pedal. 

Someone yelled out your name, but you were too fired up to care. In your mind, you decided it would be better to die from the virus than staying cooped up for the rest of your life. At least with dying, you would be free. 

You had no plan and no idea what to do next but to race towards the closest abandoned building you could find. Jienna had told you about it during her dying days—how there was a series of abandoned buildings just at the edge of town where defiant women stayed the last of their days there. 

Having seen with your own eyes what the virus did to your roommate, you were sure you were prepared to go out the same way. There would be a few days where your immune system fought back, but without the right food and care, you would waste yourself away.

Better than being trapped forever in a small dorm. You viciously gunned the engine and raced towards that shining beacon of hope. 

The buildings out of town were abandoned like Jienna said, and you prepared to set up your death camp. The concrete slab walls were drab and the floor was too hard and cold to sleep on, but you made do with a blanket you managed to steal from the lobby. 

Days passed and soon, you were starting to wonder if the virus was even real. Your meals consisted of canned beans and whatever scraps you could find in the dumpster nearby. You didn’t dare to light a fire in case it might attract someone’s attention, and your showers were virtually non-existent.

Maybe I shouldn’t have left the dorms. 

Those thoughts of ‘what if’ and ‘should haves’ kept you up at night and haunted your waking moments. 

One day, you thought you heard footsteps echoing down the hallways, but then, you found out it was just a bunch of squatters looking for a place to sleep. They turned their nose up on the squalor and left you alone feeling bemused and a little disappointed that not even the lowest rank of humanity would want to spend a night at a place you consistently slept in. 

But, your newfound freedom was too good to be true.

It had been too quiet and too peaceful. The bubble was waiting to pop and your hopes burst one day when you awoke in cold sweat to hear a man’s voice down the hallways.

“... heard she escaped here…” 

“Are you sure?” 

The fatigue weighing you down shot out of your system and you sat up ramrod straight, rushing to get your goods without making a sound. 

“No news of… gotta be the last one in the vicinity…” 

You hurriedly stuffed your blanket into your backpack, taking care not to breathe too loud in case they might hear. The beam of a flashlight pricked your irises, and having lived for a while in the dark, you weren’t used to such brightness.

Squinting, you stayed close to the walls, slinging your bag onto your shoulders and preparing to depart down a flight of steps straight into the forest fringing these buildings. Your flexibility as a cheerleader back in your old life helped you out to creep on the floors quietly, extending one leg and then another while keeping close to the walls. 

However, you didn’t see where your foot landed, and before you could stop in mid-step, the empty can of beans went clattering to the ground.

For a split second, all you could hear was your breath and the rush of blood in your ears.

The beam of light immediately swung towards your direction, illuminating your left leg and the implicated empty can in question. 

Shit. You had been discovered.

“Wait!” One of the men yelled, but you didn’t stop to listen. Hightailing it out of here, you sprinted to the entrance, about to escape into the night when you felt a bigger body slam into you from the side. 

Screaming out, you barely caught a glimpse of your perpetrator, but he was holding you down with his larger body, pinning you right to the dirty ground.

“Got her!” he yelled back to other men. “It’s a girl! She’s here!” 

You blindly reached your hand out and felt the sharp edge of a rock cut into your palm. Swinging it towards him, you bashed the side of his head, and in the glimpses of light from the shining moon up ahead, you caught sight of his vivid, dark hair. 

The man yelped and stumbled back, staunching the heavy flow of blood oozing from his right cheek.

“Fuck!” he bellowed, and you used his momentum of shock to push him off of you. 

But, he had enough dexterity to clamp a hand around your knee, bringing you back down to the ground. 

“No!” you started to scream and sob. “Please! Let me go!” 

Someone else came to his rescue, holding you down. You felt ropes around your wrists, drawing them behind your back. Your sobs were muffled by a bag thrown over your head, and for good measure, they tied your ankles, too. It took two of them to carry you into a car, and you were laid on someone’s lap, his arms roping around you and pressing you to his chest. 

As the men piled back into the car, you started to sob when you heard the engine ignite. 

“Ssh, it’s okay,” the man who held you crooned. “It’s gonna be fine, Y/N.” 

Through your tears, you recognized that they knew your name. 

A hand touched your knee, rubbing it soothingly. “We’re not here to hurt you.”

That voice. You had heard it before. It brought to mind dark blue eyes and a mop of dark hair. A pair of toned legs tearing through a football field and a charming, lopsided smile.

“I-Isagi?” 

He hummed. “It’s me, Y/N. Barou’s holding you, by the way.” 

In answer, the self-proclaimed king of the field back from when your college days consisted of study horrors and not a world crisis, flooded your mind with stark familiarity when he exhaled out your name. 

“Hey, Y/N.” 

“It’s the boys from the football team,” Isagi informed you, like you were on a road trip with them instead of forcefully being kidnapped against your own will. 

“H-how did you find me?” The bag they stuffed over your head smelled musty, and you struggled to talk through it. “C-can you get this fucking thing off my head?” 

Someone pried the sack off, and you inhaled in deep gusts of air, your wide eyes taking in the darkened interior of this truck and the boys who were holding you hostage. 

Isagi had lost a bit of weight since you last saw him. The last you heard of the Blue Lock team’s co-captain was that he had lost his mother to the virus and the school had started a fund for him to cover her funeral expenses. Turning your eyes towards the man who was holding you, Barou’s jaw was tight, and his eyes were heavy with dark circles.

The man driving was Kunigami, whose hands were white-knuckled fists on the steering wheel. Next to him in the passenger, bleeding out from his cheek, was Itoshi Rin. You noticed how he side-eyed you from the front, and returned his evasive look with a frosty glare. 

Lastly, at the back of this 8-seater was Chigiri, Nagi and Reo—the former two being the most unlikely combination of acquaintances you had ever seen join this ragtag group of football bros. Nagi and Reo were famous for being fused at the hip since they both started their business degree courses together. They rarely fraternised with anyone else outside of their coursemates, much less kidnap some random woman. 

At the reminder of your predicament, you squirmed, accidentally rubbing your ass all over Barou’s crotch. He didn’t react beyond a low hiss of, “Quit it,” those thick and sturdy arms tightening around your trembling body. You tried to ignore how you could feel something hard poking your lower back. 

“Why did you kidnap me?” you demanded off the bat. “How did you find me? What are you going to do with me?” 

Those rapid questions were met with silence. You flitted your gaze to each of them, and through the passing snatches of orange streetlights, you saw every one of their expressions drenched in guilt. 

“We… don’t know.” 

Isagi was the one who spoke first, preparing himself to earn your rage.

“You don’t know?” you mumbled, growing more incensed every minute with how they had wrenched you from your peaceful life in the ruins. “You don’t know where you’re taking me. What you’re planning to do with me. You don’t know the reason why you went through all that trouble to track me down. You don’t—”

“It’s because you have a bounty on your head.”

Rin’s voice cut through your growing tirade, leaving you cold with disbelief.

“I… what?” 

On your right, Isagi nodded, rubbing the back of his neck like he would rather be somewhere else than in this vehicle having such a difficult conversation. 

“After you escaped, the officials posted your bounty and your suspected whereabouts. Um, it’s uh… well, Y/N… you’re the last woman alive from our college.” 

You exhaled, feeling your chest constrict and tears prick your eyes. 

All your lecturers… your friends… your cheerleading gang… 

“Are they all gone?” The boys didn’t comment on your thick voice or the unshed tears. 

Kunigami was the first one to express his remorse. “I’m sorry, Y/N. That’s the truth.” 

Rin decided to rip the bandaid off quicker, leaving you reeling in confusion and despair. “The authorities put up notices for you because your status was unknown. They said that anyone who brought you back—dead or alive—would receive two million yen.”

The reality of your situation settled in like sentiment falling to the bottom of a glass jar. 

You felt cold all over, your heartbeat right in your throat.

“So, you’re either going to k-kill me or turn me in, huh?” 

Your heavy question was met with silence. 

Surprisingly, it was Nagi at the back who piped up in his lazy, drawling tone. “Actually… we have a better plan.” 

Isagi was the first to react. He shot Nagi a murderous look, shaking his head. Kunigami glanced at the white-haired man through the rearview mirror with narrowed eyes, and Rin’s scowl deepened. Chigiri, who had been quiet throughout this entire exchange, sighed out, “Idiot” under his breath.

The only one who looked supportive of what Nagi had to say was—no surprise there—Reo himself.

“It’s a good plan! She’s still healthy,” he argued on behalf of his best friend. Nagi nodded, humming. 

“The virus should’ve taken her out weeks ago, but she managed to survive all on her own in such dirty conditions… I really think we should give it a shot.”

The air in the car changed; thickening and becoming ripe with tension. Barou’s arms suddenly felt too hot around your body, and you broke out into a sweat.

“It could work,” Isagi started out slowly, rubbing his chin. He had a look on his face you knew all too well—that calculative, goal-hungry stare that would eventually destroy his enemies. 

Rin tilted his head towards the backseat, his turquoise eyes drawing circles on the car’s water-stained ceiling. “Do you think that would be legal for us to do?” 

“We have to keep her hidden.” Chigiri spoke up, demanding everyone's attention. “The authorities can’t know that we have a woman with us or we’d be punished. We have to be very careful with Y/N.”

You were still drawing blanks on their ideas, growing more frustrated every single second you were kept in the dark from their decisions on your fate. “What do you fucking assholes mean? Legal? Keeping me away from the authorities? What do you want with me?” 

Your voice broke on the last question, and without warning, you started to sob. The weeks of roughing it out on your own, trying to escape from society and hide in plain sight were taking its toll on you. You wept bitterly, hiding your face behind your hair and sobbing into your shoulder.

“Shit,” someone muttered in the front. 

“Give her some water.” 

It was Isagi who gently coaxed your face from your shoulder, holding a bottle of clean water. You contemplated spitting a mouthful at him, but ultimately, your thirst won out and you drank deeply. 

He wiped your tears off with the sleeve of his threadbare sweater and you hiccuped into a silence, already accepting your death. 

“We don’t want to hurt you,” Reo murmured from the back. You lifted your swollen, red eyes to find his purple ones full of sincerity. “We actually want to keep you safe. There’s been rumours about human experiments and none of us want you to go through that. We want to keep you safe.”

You should’ve known the group’s appointed spokesperson would be a man used to spouting sweet words to get his way—whether with professors or girls—but a part of you wanted to believe Reo. You were so, so tired of fending for yourself, you wanted someone to help you with the burden of being a woman in these unacceptable times. 

“Yes, Y/N.” Rin’s sudden reassurance struck you dumb with disbelief. “We have our old frat house—nobody comes by there anymore. We’ll keep you safe there and you can rest.” 

It all sounded too good to be true. Here was a band of college footballers being completely sweet with you—wanting to protect, nurture and keep you hidden. But, you were waiting for the other shoe to drop; the catch in this arrangement. 

“There’s more,” you whispered, scenting out their bullshit. “You’re not telling me the real reason.” 

Men were never good liars—that much you could tell. So, when every single footballer glanced at the other, your senses were in red alert, demanding to uncover what was the terrible footnote to this otherwise flawless proposal.

“Well?” you muttered coldly, strengthening your resolve. “What do you want from me? What’s the catch?” 

Reo was quick to turn your question around. “What? There’s no catch—”

“There is.” It was Isagi who spoke, sounding resigned and tired in the dimming darkness. “There is a catch. We shouldn’t lie to her, guys. We all agreed to tell her the truth if we found her and she was willing to listen.” 

You held your breath, waiting for Isagi to drop the bomb. He seemed like he needed a moment to stabilise himself. He drew in a deep breath and unlocked his shoulders, looking you square in the eye. You half-wished he had kept you in the dark; never told you the truth. Because what he said next completely swept you off your feet, landing you onto the ground face-first and gasping in disbelief.

“It’s not about rewards or money—it’s about duty. We need your help to repopulate this city, Y/N… we want you to carry one of our babies.” 

You felt a pair of broad-set shoulders shake under your smaller frame, the man underneath you stretching out his kinks and stiff muscles after a night of good sleep. 

“Hm,” he groaned, brushing a hand down your bare spine. “Good morning, angel.” 

Reo’s husky voice drew you back into consciousness, and you whined, burying your face into his neck to hide yourself from the morning’s glare. He chuckled at your antics, nosing your hair and pressing soft kisses onto your temple. “C’mon, sweetheart. It’s Rin’s turn with you today.” 

Without missing a beat or opening your eyes, you mumbled: “Maybe you should all fuck me at one go so you guys can see who’s strong enough to knock me up.” 

You meant those words as a joke, but when Reo’s shoulders stiffened, you suddenly realised the depth of danger you were flirting with. 

“Don’t say such things you’ll regret, sweetheart,” he meant to tease you, gently easing you off his chest. “Or, the boys won’t stop until you give each one of us a baby.” 

You tried to laugh, to shake off the sudden unease. Today was Wednesday, and Wednesdays meant pancake days in this unconventional household. You got up and slipped on Reo’s shirt, fluffing out your shorter hair. The guys had insisted you cut your locks so that it would be easier to hide them under a baseball cap and pass you off as a man if anyone came looking. 

Sometimes, you did miss your femininity, but in a world where it was literally dying out, you couldn’t take any chances. 

Flashing Reo a smile, you hummed. “Don’t laze around too much like Nagi—I’m making breakfast.” 

In the living room, Bachira was the only one up and awake, his bright golden eyes following your every move as you wished him good morning and prepared your ingredients. Without a sound, he slipped behind you, calloused hands warm on your bare belly. 

“Morning, beautiful,” he whispered into your ear, making goosebumps rise on your arms. 

“Morning, Meguru,” you mumbled, trying to ignore how his hands were creeping up to your bare breasts. Living with seven men meant that you were subjected to their advances night and day. It got even worse when you had told them you missed your period last week, but your cycle turned out to be just a few days late. 

That didn’t stop them from feeling you up, grasping your hips or pressing soft kisses to your neck when you least expected it. Like now, with Bachira’s hot breath bathing the sensitive strip of your jaw. 

Meguru hadn’t been part of your kidnapping heist a few weeks ago, but he had shown up when Isagi called—ready to be of service and contribute his portion in repopulating your tiny, dying town. 

Clicking your tongue at the price tag on the egg carton, you flipped the cardboard cover closed, affronted by the steep spike in those numbers. 

“It’s getting bad out there, right?” 

Bachira paused his efforts in running his nose down your neck, taken off guard by your sudden question. “Um. Yeah. Why’d you ask, princess?” 

Because I haven’t seen the outside world in weeks. You swallowed your bitterness, focused on whipping the yolks into a golden perfection. The boys were doing their best to make you feel cosy and safe within these walls; you couldn’t be too ungrateful. They didn’t let you out for fear of someone catching sight of you—that’s why the windows and doors were all covered and barricaded.

They restricted your contact with only seven of them because they didn’t want an anonymous tip-off to result in you being taken away. 

Every Blue Lock player was careful to protect their golden ace. 

“Nothing,” you hummed in the breeziest voice you could muster. “Just curious, s’all.” 

“Hmm.” Bachira’s hands moved up to your naked tits moving freely under Reo’s bigger t-shirt. “You smell like him,” he accused you softly with a nip to your ear. “That stupid rich boy.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” you tried not to smirk, but failed. 

“Nah.” Bachira’s fingers trailed to your stiffening nipples, still sore from Reo’s ministrations (he loved biting down on them while you rode him) and eased the soft flesh in between his thumb and forefinger. “I was waiting for my turn—can’t believe I have to share you with those bastards.” You tried not to gasp and push your body back to meet his pelvis halfway, failing miserably to measure a cup full of milk. Some of the liquid sloshed onto your wrist and you heard Meguru snort. 

“I love how sensitive you are, baby.” 

Biting on your lower lip to stifle a whine, you pushed your ass back to brush the front of his pants, finding him already hard and waiting. 

Bachira was one of the more eager boys, and you had to pace yourself and him less he fucked you on this counter and ruined Rin’s day with you. 

“Meguru—”

“I know, I know,” he groaned, sounding both lustful and disappointed. “You’re emo Itoshi’s tonight. Fucking stupid stick game.” Cursing himself for literally getting the shorter end of the stick, you felt his pout imprint on your skin. “But, can’t we have a little bit of fun, baby? Can I eat your pussy out at least?” 

You literally throbbed at his words, and almost gave in to the rushing desire sweeping you off your feet. Almost—until you heard Isagi’s voice knocking the both of you out of this lust-filled fog.

“Hey. What’re you both doing?” 

While you smelled a threat, Bachira smelled an opportunity. His grin was shark-like, cutting through the tension when he didn’t stop playing with your nipples or back down when you hissed out his name. 

“What’s it look like? I’m trying to fuck her.” 

You tensed, waiting for Isagi to be pissed off. He was the one who reinforced this one-night sharing rule, and to see his best friend blatantly disregarding it would set off his rigid ego. 

But, to your surprise, Isagi tilted his head, taking note of your flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. “I think she… she likes it.” 

Bachira glanced down to find your mouth parted slightly, brows furrowed with a deceptive look of pain when both men knew what it was. Desire. 

Isagi, who could smell a goal or a wrench in the plans from a mile away, started to chuckle. 

“Lift up her shirt. Continue playing with her nipples, Meguru.” 

“Yes, captain,” Bachira sang, and lifted the hem of Reo’s sleep shirt up to expose your puffy, swollen nipples. 

“Shit,” Isagi breathed, and you didn’t miss how he had to adjust himself through his shorts, those dark blue eyes eclipsed with a dark, unnamed emotion you were terrified to uncover. “They look so perfect and pointy.” 

Bachira rolled your sensitive buds between his two fingers, ignoring your soft yelp and flinch when he began to tug on them with a bit more force. “Huh—it really is. Reo must’ve prepped her nicely for us.” 

“For what?” 

The voice of another lover joined the fray. You peeled your watery eyes up to find Reo’s curious expression sweeping between his two friends and your own flushed face. He didn’t seem angry that you were being fondled by Bachira in broad daylight—in fact, Reo looked like he didn’t feel anything. 

He almost looked bored, sweeping those purplish hues to Isagi. “So, are we finally doing it?” 

“Hmm.” 

Doing what? You wanted to ask, but your head was tilted back, mouth falling open only for it to be filled by Bachira’s tongue coaxing yours to come and play with his. His kiss—if it could even be called that—was sloppy and unhurried, its full intention to leave you feeling shame and vulnerability in front of two of your other lovers. 

Showing them how you easily folded and lost yourself to the sensations. 

“Mm—can see her moving her hips,” Isagi’s lowered, husky voice shot a potent mix of desire and shame through your veins. “Check how wet she is Meguru.” 

Abiding his best friend, Bachira dipped two fingers past the waistband of your sleep shorts. You mewled and tossed your head back when he swiped through your folds, teasingly circling your clit. 

As soon as he gave you that wonderful friction, he retrieved it, leaving you high and dry. 

“Meguru,” you whimpered. Bachira ignored you, holding his fingers up to the other two men; his digits glistening with your juices. 

“I don’t think she can wait anymore,” Reo murmured, and this time, you caught a flash of darkness in his otherwise kind eyes. “Isagi—”

“I’ll go first.” 

Meguru nudged you firmly to face the approaching, dark-haired man. You couldn’t keep your eyes off Isagi’s intense, blue eyes that were pinning you right to the spot like you were about to be burned on a stake. The fire came next when he reached out to caress your cheek, trailing his hand down your neck and grabbing your throat. 

“Tease her clit again,” he ordered, and Bachira playfully said, 

“Yes, captain.” 

Fuck. You were growing lightheaded from the combination of Isagi choking you and Bachira running slow circles on your throbbing clit. It was even filthier when you remembered Reo was watching, most likely getting off to your desperate pinched expressions. 

“Meguru… Yoichi…”

Calling them by their first name seemed to spur on those two men. Meguru eased one finger past your tight ring of muscle, melting through your spongy walls and hooking the tip of this thick index right against your g-spot. He nudged it forward in a fluid motion, like how he would effortlessly send forward a ball across the field, forcing a yelp past your kiss-swollen lips. 

Your vision was purely dominated by Isagi’s increasingly unhinged expression; the sweat bulleting down his forehead, his mouth parted in a silent snarl, those dark, beautiful eyes coaxing you to jump down a well just to feel his touch… 

“Y-Yoichi.” 

As if he understood your deeper need, Isagi nodded feverishly at Bachira. “Remove her shorts… hold her open while I eat her out.” 

Dutifully, Meguru followed his friend's instructions. You watched with wide, unblinking eyes as Yoichi got to his knees, his mouth so close to where you needed him the most.

Bachira slung your shorts down your ankles, revealing the sweet shape of your mound and the even sweeter treasure hidden in between your folds. Like a man hellbent on a mission, Yoichi gently pried your clit from under her hood, revealing the throbbing bud waiting to be licked, sucked or loved on. 

You barely had time to catch your breath before his mouth was on you. 

Every man in this house ate you out differently. Reo was more careful and controlled. Nagi was languid and tended to overstimulate you. Barou loved to have your legs on his shoulders as he dove in between your thighs. 

But, Isagi was different; he ate you out with the determination of a man who had to prove he was the best in every way. 

The feeling of his tongue swiping through your folds, those perfect pink lips sealing around your clit and how he sounded like he was making out with your pussy made you clench down on thin air. 

“Yoichi…” you breathed. 

Bachira went to work on stimulating you, too, tugging your shirt above your head and pinching your nipples again. 

Both boys were so intent on driving you to the edge, that they didn’t realise the group of spectators they were attracting. 

From the corner of your watery eyes, you noticed Rin standing, arms crossed over his broad shoulders and frosty glare—tainted with jealousy—directed towards the man in between your thighs. Kunigami had just gotten out of the shower, so his hair was still damp while Barou had returned from a workout, his muscles swollen and shiny with sweat. Chigiri and Nagi were the only ones probably still asleep, though you had little doubt your stream of moans would wake them up out of curiosity. 

Meguru flicked the tip of his nails on your nipples, the sharp sting sending bites of pleasure right to your core. 

“Megu—” you were interrupted again by another sloppy kiss. 

“Tch. You’re all such fucking horndogs.” Rin’s grumble was white noise behind the blood rushing in your ears. 

“... you’re not complaining…” 

“Shut up…” 

A sharp nip to your flesh inner thigh wrenched you back to the present, and you gasped, making eye contact with Isagi and his raised brow. 

“You’re getting bored, Princess?” 

Without missing a beat, you shook your head. “N-no, ‘Ichi. Mm’sorry.” 

He clicked his tongue, obviously not buying your lie. “Here you are getting your pussy eaten out by me and you’re focusing on the other boys. Just admit that you’re a fucking cockwhore, Y/N.” 

You gaped at his words, and your rage was lost when Bachira dragged you back to the counter, arranging you face down and ass up. 

“M-Meguru—!” 

“Come on, who wants to fuck her first,” he boldly exclaimed, shaking you to the core. “She’s ready for a baby.” 

You burned from the inside out at how cheaply he was treating you; that sensation amplified by the sharpest slap of humiliation across your cheeks, Bachira’s handprint glowing warmly on your skin. He spanked you again, matching his mark on your right cheek to your left one, letting you cry out and clench down on thin air.  

“Me.” A deep, resonate voice which you loved having at your ear while he fucked you on every Monday night. After all—a King always went first.

As one of the bigger guys, Barou’s physique gave him the advantage over the others to call dibs on you first, his undeniably good genetics and strong bone structure a contender for healthy babies. 

You felt Bachira’s warmth melt from your side to be replaced by the feel of Shoei’s toned thighs pressed against your rear. 

He soothed the spanks left on your skin with one large, coarse palm, and hummed deeply. 

“You ready, pretty?” 

Nodding, you turned your head to the side, unable to believe that you were in such a vulnerable position to be fucked by the entire football team. 

You weren’t going to lie—you had imagined yourself in this position before. But, it was always in your wildest fantasies; to be defiled by the football team in your tiny uniform behind the bleachers. If you were being honest, every girl on campus had the same daydream, but you were closer to the unattainable. The entire idea was such a cliche, and yet, here you were, in a room full of hungry, testosterone-fuelled men who eagerly waited to have their turn with you—the pretty cheerleader from their bygone days before the world tried to kill humanity off. 

Barou wasted no time in sinking his thick cock into you, groaning as your body took him inch by inch. He rubbed your hips, leaning forward to gently thumb your nipple. “There you go, baby. Taking me so well.” 

His words were a stark contrast from his actions. Shoei gave a low, guttural groan when he bottomed out, a dirty thrill shooting down your spine at the feel of his entire cock moulding with your walls as seven other men gaze lustfully at you. 

Through the shine of an old kettle on the counter top, you noticed Isagi palming himself through his shorts. Bachira was blatantly jacking himself off, one hand inside his sleep shorts. Kunigami was sitting on the sofa, staring at you slack-jawed and completely hard under his towel. Reo was the more subtle one, furtively glancing around and looking slightly uncomfortable, but still unable to tear his eyes from you. 

Chigiri and Nagi had woken up, and Rin was standing a little ways by the door, distancing himself from the activities taking place.

For a split second, you felt bad for him—Rin was supposed to have you today, but he had to wait for his turn as the other guys fucked you; figuratively and literally blue-balled by his own teammates. It would’ve made you mad on his behalf if you weren’t—

“Ow!” 

A sharp tug on your roots snapped your head back, and your cry bounced off the walls. Barou’s lips were on your neck, his hot breath fanning across your neck. 

“Did I tell you you could be distracted? Pay attention to when your King fucks you.”

From the back, you heard Bachira snicker, but every thought flew out of your head when Barou set a pace which had your toes curling in your house slippers. He clamped one hand around the delicate roots of your hair, while the other guided your hips to meet his halfway.

The sound of balls hitting flesh filled the air, along with your animalistic groans and Barou’s deep ones. You heard a few more muffled groans, and someone cursing, but your thoughts were doused in wet cotton, growing heavier and fuzzier. 

You could barely keep your eyes open, only cognizant of Barou’s cock shaping your walls and the impending ball of heat waiting to unravel right under your navel. Meeting his thrusts cleanly, soft mewls fell from your plush lips like dew, mingling with a bit of drool puddling onto the counter right under your mouth. 

Barou was fucking you stupid and the other men knew it. He couldn’t stop the feral grin splitting his face in half when your hips bucked, a little slutty tick which told every man you were about to cum. 

Without warning, you felt wet warmth fill you to the brim—your first load of the day taken like a champ.

Shoei hadn’t let you cum, and you reeled back from the disappointment with barely any grace; your soft sob was replaced by a moan when another man lined up his cock to your stuffed entrance. 

You smelled his fresh pine cologne before you saw him, and sensed Rin’s impatience the second he gripped your jaw and wrenched your face back for a deep, frenzied kiss. 

“Fucking whore,” he whispered into the heat of your mouth. “Letting the other boys feel you up when it’s my turn with you today. Where’s your shame?” 

Your answer melted as one with a dulcet moan when Rin slid two fingers in between your swollen folds, testing the waters of your arousal. He barely cared when his digits were coated with a combination of Barou’s cum and your juices; he just stuck those soiled, pale and nimble fingers which could’ve rivalled a skilled pianist down your throat. You gagged on them, eyes going blurry and all teary from the flavouring of sin heavy on your tongue. 

“Rin,” you hiccuped, and he hummed. 

“Take me deeper, baby.” 

His command brought a throbbing wave of desperation arresting you from head to toe. You tried to bring his fingers further down your gullet, but gagged when he was almost knuckle-deep. 

“Mhpmh!” Your syrupy moan made every man groan, the sheer desperation in how you attempted to fully swallow Rin’s fingers a commendable feat considering he had absurdly thick fingers to match his height. 

“Good girl,” Rin praised you in a husky voice when he felt your throat bob around his digits. “You’re really such the perfect fuckdoll, huh? Always so ready for us.” 

“Mhmm…” your eyes rolled back into your head, your entire body tensing when you felt his cock slowly breach past your tight ring of muscle. 

“Fucking take this dick, baby, I know you can,” the youngest striker urged, his words beyond filthy compared to the other men. Rin was one of the only few people in this house who could talk you through the immense pleasure, and you loved him all the more for it. 

His obscene mouth would never fail to leave you reeling from the difference in his demeanour; sour and quiet when he wasn’t fucking you, to brash and downright filthy when he was egging you towards an orgasm. 

You loved Rin and his duality; lived to watch it come to life.

You wanted to swallow him down and eat him up whole to satiate the deep well of lust inside of you no matter the price. 

“Rin…” you gurgled past his fingers. “Mhmmmore.” 

“More?” he interpreted your gurgles with the ghost of a chuckle. You quite liked it when Rin laughed even if it was a soft exhale; it made you feel lighter to hear his happiness. He hummed and plunged his fingers back down your throat, playing with the soft palate of your tongue, while his cock inched deeper and deeper into your sacred heat.

The second he bottomed out, his forehead thumped onto your shoulder, a long drawn out groan of relief radiating warmth right into your throbbing heart. Rin’s reactions were adorable as they were pussy stirring, his duality further exacerbated by those spit-slicked fingers retracting from your mouth and moving down to your puffy clit.

He gently rubbed circles into them, catching you whenever you bucked into his embrace. His lips were on your neck, his hot breath expelling heated groans onto the sensitive skin. Every single shaky circle on your sensitive nub was pulling you closer and closer into a white hole of pleasure.

Your moans were reaching fever pitch, and the entire house was doused with the arousal of seven men who couldn’t wait to fuck you.

The boys whispered something over your stream of mewls and your feet were off the ground, your limp body in Rin’s arms. Without a second to spare, he brought you to the main bedroom where the largest bed could fit at least three men. 

There, he laid you down, your head dangling off the edge so your mouth was hanging wide open for the next man to defile. 

Rin eased himself in between your spread thighs, placing a kiss onto your sternum almost reverently and leaving more pressees on your jaw and cheeks. You felt someone else rustle up towards the other side of the bed, and your eyes met Kunigami’s darkened ones. His towel was shed off, a heap on the floor, and his long, girthy cock throbbed in anticipation over your face. 

“Open up for me, pretty girl,” Rensuke murmured, grazing your cheek and then hooking a thumb on your bottom lip to spread you wider. You whined, overstimulated on both ends when you felt both men sink into you at the same time. Rin bottomed out the second Rensuke hit the back of your throat, making you jerk and gag. 

The both of them were big—far too big for your smaller body. It was a struggle to take them both and you felt your body reacting to the impossible feat.

“Ssh, ssh,” Rin whispered into your hair. “Relax, baby. You can take us, I know you can.”

With watery eyes, all you could do was mewl, hips bucking pathetically. Rin’s long girth was directly hitting your g-spot with every thrust, and Rensuke was splitting your throat in half. You felt like you could drown in their musk and the thick scent of sex in the air. 

Something bitter hit the back of your throat, and you gagged, about to spit Rensuke out when he clamped one hand on your throat, telling you to keep him there if you wanted to know what was good for you. 

“Hold me, sweetheart. Hold it,” the large football player murmured. You were sure your entire system was going haywire—your pussy and mind in war to come out at the top of your frazzled emotions. 

One of your hands was buried in Rin’s hair, and another was perched on Kunigami’s thigh, trying to ease him down your battered throat. 

Without warning, the other man withdrew his thick length from your mouth, splatters of drool dripping down your chin and neck; defiling you even more. 

“Fucking hurry it up, Rin,” Kunigami growled, throwing the other striker a murderous look which juxtaposed his usually kind expression jarringly. “I need to cum in her.” 

Rin grunted, returning the other striker’s glare with a hostile one of his own. “Shut the fuck up—let me have this with her.” Kunigami stroked himself, trying to keep himself hard as Rin started to jackhammer into your willing cunt.

Your screams of pleasure echoed around the room, contrasting with the other men’s deep growls and groans. It sounded like a smorgasbord of erotic sounds, complemented by the slap of Rin’s balls on your ass. 

The youngest man was close on the verge of his orgasm, his face pinched and drawn. You thought he would’ve taken this chance to cum and ignore your pleasure, like Barou did, but you were sorely wrong when it came to Rin. He pressed a thumb to your swollen clit, rubbing it soft and sweet, increasing the pressure when you started to buck and whine into his embrace. 

You smelled the sting of his sweat, felt it drip into your open mouth, tainting it with the taste of Kunigami’s precum and his own excitement. 

“I’m close,” you sobbed out, arms like vines around his shoulders, nails stabbing into his back. “G’na cum, Rin-Rin—fuck, don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

He shook his head, a feral look of pure determined arousal lighting those beautiful features. “Cum for me, baby. Make a mess—show the other guys how much you love my cock.” 

Your back arched, and your mouth fell open in a silent scream. Your thighs tensed around his waist, almost clamping the air out of his lungs from how hard you were clenching around him. The minute ticks, the red lines you left down his back, and your eyes rolling back into your skull arrived at a blinding crescendo.

“Oh! Ugh, Rin—!” 

Your first orgasm hit you like a brick wall, steamrolling every thought from your blank mind. Rin’s face fell into the crook of your neck, and his stuttering hips brought forth a fountain of warmth flowing freely into your womb. 

You were coasting, high on hormones and pleasure, when he disappeared from your embrace, only to be replaced by another body. Kunigami’s lips on your skin were like warm fluttering butterfly wings, slowly bringing you back to the ground.

“I’m here next, okay, baby?” His tender tone didn’t prepare you for how his cock stretched you out. 

“Too big,” you muttered, losing every shred of your composure and shame to hiccup those dirty words. “You’re t-too big.”

“Yeah?” He kissed your tears away. “Aren’t you glad I can stretch you out? Give your sweet body some practice when you have to push out our babies?” 

His words ignited a flame right in your lower belly—making you cry out when Rensuke started to slip inside your already overflowing hole. Gushes of white streaked your thighs, the other men’s releases staining the bed underneath you. 

As you got used to his slightly wider girth, you didn’t expect Kunigami to roll you on your hands and knees. His cock slid back into your waiting heat, the angle making him feel bigger, and stretching you out even more. 

But, it also placed you face to face with the other guys who were eyeing you hungrily—none more so than Reo. 

One thick hand wound the hair around the nape of your neck to snap your head up, keeping you firmly in place to watch the lust dancing in their eyes.

“You really should see how fucking sexy you look, baby,” Chigiri hummed, those bright eyes latched onto the spot where you and Kunigami were connected. “We could eat you whole—you fucking little slut.”

“So pretty,” Reo cooed, and Nagi nodded in agreement. 

The lilac-haired man got bold enough to stride up to you, perching himself on the edge of the bed where your swinging tits were mesmerising him. 

“Raise her up a little bit, Ren.” 

Kunigami obeyed Reo’s orders, settling on his haunches and bringing you up with one arm securely snug around your neck. Your tinier hands fluttered to the thick trunk of his forearm as if trying to pry him off, the breath in your lungs knocked out by Rensuke’s headlock. 

But, whatever bit of oxygen you managed to inhale from Kunigami’s loosening hold was taken away as Reo leaned forward to kiss and suck your tits. He massaged the neglected one with one hand, his lips busy toying with your right nipple. You watched with bated breath as his tongue caressed the hardening flesh, the firm suction of his lips on the vulnerable flesh sending pangs of pleasure straight to your core.

You cried out, throwing your head back to bump Rensuke’s chin. He grunted, and shifted his arm a bit so he could grasp your neck instead, holding you steady as his cock wrecked you and Reo’s mouth on your tits continued driving you insane.

“She’s drooling,” Nagi drawled, catching their attention. 

Every eye zeroed in on your blissed-out face, your mouth parting and a little bit of spit dripping past your chin. Kunigami chuckled, breathless and almost feral when he leaned forward to sloppily make out with you. 

The sound of wet lips smacking on each other and a big cock stirring you closer to another orgasm made every man in the room throb—even those who had already come. Every footballer was thinking of the numerous ways he could bend you over and fuck you hard until you squirted all over them; each of their mind’s eye tainted with your sweet moans and even sweeter release.

You gave a short scream, your orgasm catching everyone off guard when you almost folded forward if it wasn’t for Reo catching you. Your body was shuddering like someone had tasered you—a pure scream of pleasure rebounding across the thin walls.

Reo held you as you sobbed, your release triggering Kunigami’s own orgasm. More warmth filled you up and you had lost track of how many men had already came in you; your brain a complete mush with no solid thoughts in it.

Like clockwork, another cock filled you—this time it was Reo’s again—and your mouth was stuffed with someone else's length. You were dragged into a cowgirl position by Reo who let Nagi mount you from the back, both of their lengths taking turns pistoning into your stretched out heat.

“Disgusting,” someone muttered in disdain over the sounds of two men concurrently fucking one woman. Neither of you cared, and you were pulled into a sloppy makeout session with Nagi as Reo continued sucking and licking your already reddened nipples.

Every part of your orifice was swollen, but you still took Chigiri without complaint when it was his turn. You were already like jelly at this point, your entire body sagging on the bed and going numb from the neverending pleasure.

Thankfully, he was quicker, cumming into you within minutes, and kissing you on the forehead afterwards. Your hole was stuffed to the brim with white hot cum, and you thought you couldn’t take anymore until you felt Bachira sliding behind you, hitching your thighs up.

“Hey, Princess,” the golden-eyed menace cooed. “Did you think we would forget about you?” 

You felt the bed dip, and Isagi’s face swam in your vision. He came closer to give you a kiss, and his lips felt like a soothing balm on a hot day. 

“Yoichi,” you whispered, eyes heavy and body already close to shutting down from exhaustion. “M’so tired.”

“I know, pretty girl, I know,” the dark-haired man whispered. “But, Meguru and I haven’t had our turn with you yet. It would be unfair if we didn't, right?” He gently stroked your cheek, voice saturated with fake sympathy. “You wouldn’t want us to not fuck you after you’ve already taken everyone’s cock, right? You’re not that cruel to deny us, are you, baby?”

“Fucking twisted weirdo,” you heard another person quip. But, you were too far gone to stop the collision of his lips on yours, that skilled mouth drinking away all of your complaints.

As he distracted you, Bachira slipped his thick and veiny cock right into your waiting cunt, his groan low and erotic against your shoulder. 

“How’re you still so wet and tight after so many rounds?” He nipped your shoulder in frustration, setting a pace that rutted your body back and forth on the soft sheets. “You’re a fucking nympho, baby—so needy for our cocks.”

“Shut up,” you groaned in between Yoichi’s hot mouth pressing onto yours. You tried to squirm away to get back some of your lost breath, but Isagi refused to let you part from his lips. He chased after you, mouth sealing over yours again and again as you tried to twist your head this way and that. 

Strings of spittle clung to both of your chins, and that sick part inside of you which wanted more pushed the voice of common sense in your head out of the way—making you fall head over heels for Yoichi’s mouth on yours. You kissed him back with as much hunger and zeal as your tired body could muster, pushing your boundaries right to the very edge. 

Isagi’s ego fed heartily on your submission, greedily taking everything you gave him.

By the end of this sloppy makeout session, your lips were tingling, and Bachira had already come inside of you—getting off to the sight of his best friend and the girl they were sharing stuck in an intimate lip lockdown.

The last man to take you was drawing it out. He took your face in his hands, nudging you free from Bachira’s grasp and rolling you into his arms.

“Out,” Isagi commanded, in a tone that broke no argument. “Leave me and Y/N alone.”

The rest of the guys began to grumble, but one sharp glare from the terrifying striker was enough to quiet everyone down. Indisputably, Yoichi ran the show, and his ego was bigger than any of theirs combined—the lesser knew when to give way to someone who could devour them without regrets.

Everyone turned to leave, and the last one was Rin who hovered by the doorway, unwilling to abandon you to Yoichi’s devices. The other dark-haired man shot his nemesis a frigid stare that could’ve frozen over Hell’s fires.

“Out, Itoshi.” 

The younger man countered his superior’s glare with a mutinous one of his own. 

“Who’s to say you won’t hurt her?” Rin’s nostrils flared, flickering his gaze to your closed eyes and limp body. “We can’t trust you with her.”

Isagi snorted. “If you want to watch, be my guest. I’ll fuck her so good she’ll forget about you assholes.”

The competition was on, and you were the final prize for these men to win. But, it wasn’t just your body they wanted—each of them fought to secure your womb so it would grow their fruits and give them the family they dreamed of. 

You were their greatest treasure, and they would go to the ends of the earth to make sure you were safe—even watching the other men to make sure none of them would hurt you. 

Isagi was a packaged dynamite waiting to blow; he was too unpredictable and Rin would hate himself if he pushed you too far or injured you in any shape or form. He planted himself against the wall, arms folded across his chest while those searing teal eyes watched you gasp and preen for Isagi’s attention. 

The dark-haired man was playing with your clit, using the dirtiest tactic to rile you up so you would explode in pleasure for him. His mouth was toying with your swollen nipples, and Rin winced when he bit on the tender nub, earning your shriek. It didn’t take a genius to see you were hanging on the tether of your sanity, and with your body already keyed up to the hundreds, your next orgasm was sure to leave you delirious.

Your small hands wound up in his hair, holding him close despite the excruciating pleasure. If Yoichi was the current wrecking you apart, he was also the life buoy you clung on to as your body coasted on the unending pleasure.

“I don’t even need to make you wet, baby,” he breathed right into the shell of your ear, gripping your hips hard. “You’re already so stretched out for me.”

Your breathing caught, a hitched moan echoing around the room when he sank deep into your heat with little to no prep. Isagi kissed you on your lax mouth, and tasted your tears right on his tongue.

“You okay, baby?” He forced your face to his, and your eyes fluttered open. All you could give was a tired nod, and he grinned down at you. “Okay. Are you ready?” 

You nodded again, and that was when another person caught your attention. “Rin?” 

“M’here,” the other dark-haired striker murmured, his eyes softening with fondness when you smiled at him. “I’ll make sure you get your rest afterwards.”

You hummed, and the idea of knocking off to sleep sounded so good, your eyes had already slipped close. 

“Hey—focus on me, sweetheart.”

Isagi’s hand around your neck squeezed down, cutting off your air supply. You gasped and sputtered, eyes rolling wide open. His grin was feral, touched with a hint of insanity. “Good girl. Now, watch me fuck you, sweetheart.”

He pushed your back onto the pillows, and your eyes instantly went to where you both were connected. Isagi’s pretty cock was smeared with your juices and the other men’s cum, the sight alone so filthy it made your cheeks flush.

“‘Ichi,” you hiccuped, going dumb on every stroke of his heavy cock against your velvet walls. “I-I’m close.” 

Your pussy fluttered around his length, the overstimulation touching you like a livewire. He rolled his hips into yours, the sloppy sounds of your pussy getting him higher than any risky goal. There was a reason he went last, and it was because he wanted to savour the sounds you were making; the way your pretty eyes went all glassy and hazy just for him. 

Isagi loved you so fucking much, he swore he couldn’t breathe when you started to chant his name.

“‘Ichi, ‘Ichi,” you gasped out, twisting in his grip, your back arching. “K-Kiss me, ‘Ichi.” 

He obliged you, ignoring the jealous presence waiting right in the wings, waiting for him to fuck up. But, Isagi was gentle with you. He tenderly planted hot, open-mouthed kisses onto your parted lips, drinking in your sweet whines and mewls of desperation. Isagi himself wasn’t in control of his body; that was the effect you had on him.

You drove him crazy with your supple love and beautiful smiles. Everytime you looked at him, it felt like he had been shot right in the chest. Yoichi was so, so crazy for you, and luckily for him, your feelings were the same.

He let Rin get an eyeful of you licking his lower lip, your treacherous side coming to light when you blatantly showed off your preference for the unassuming striker. The other man looked like he was swallowing shards of concrete, his expression twisted in disgust. But, Isagi had already given him an out and Rin didn’t want to take it—he was stuck with the consequences of his actions. 

“Yoichi,” you sighed out his name, all stickily sweet in your high-pitched moan. “I love you, ‘Ichi.” 

“Yeah?” Isagi grunted, your little confession going straight to his burgeoning ego. “Say it louder, baby. Tell the whole world what you feel for me.”

“I love you,” your gasp of pleasure when he changed the angle of his driving hips fed the monster inside of him. “I love you!” 

“Fuck,” Isagi bit down on your neck, leaving behind a mark for the other men to see. Rin’s own marks were on your shoulders and breasts, but Isagi had gone one step further to make his impression on the tender skin between your neck and jaw—right above your pulse point. It was so every beat of your heart echoed with his imprint and every time any of the boys looked at you, they were reminded of who you loved the most.

 “‘Ichi,” you gasped out, and your stuttering hips told Isagi you were already close. Your thighs tensed around him, and he fueled your unravelling further by rubbing on your clit with his rough thumb, the action making you jerk and gasp like you had been electrocuted.

“Yoichi… ‘Ichi… Yoichi!” you cried out his name as your body gave one final push—your release slamming into you with the force of a thousand brick walls, dragging you straight into darkness.

You thought you might’ve died in this instance. Your entire body felt too heavy, and you could physically hear every beat of your heart.

Someone was holding you tightly to his chest, his lips peppering gentle kisses on your face. You pried your eyes open after what felt like two hours trying to recollect your bearings, only to find a pair of teal eyes gazing down at you in worry.

“Baby?” Rin’s voice was soft and unintrusive. He let you get used to the bright light of a warm afternoon—watching you stretch yourself and ease your muscles.

“What time is it?” you asked in a thick voice. Staring down your body, someone had cleaned you up and dressed you in Kunigami’s oversize t-shirt and Rin’s boxers. You felt refreshed and well-taken care of, your entire heart swelling eight times its size to fit your love for every man in there.

Rin leaned forward and you caught his face with your shaky palms, caressing those defined cheekbones. 

“You slept for almost an hour. Bachira thought you had died.” 

You stifled a giggle, tracing your thumbs over the shape of his mouth. Rin let you pull him in for a kiss, and like the worrywart he was, he didn’t deepen it, not wanting to give into the insatiable lust humming in his veins.

If you thought one horny, touch-starved man was a handful, you hadn’t expected the other seven to come through the door and pile up on the bed, each of them clamouring to cuddle you.

You giggled when Nagi tripped over Reo to snuggle up on your left side, only to be stopped by Bachira who literally yanked the taller man out of the way to steal his place. In the end, you took turns cuddling with each man, their deep sigh of relief that things had turned out great and not as weird as they thought, fed right into your relaxed soul. 

As sunlight streamed in through the blinds, the outside world may be in an upheaval, but within these four walls, you were as safe as you could be in your favourite football team’s arms.

©️lalunanymph, 2023

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

croissant - send me a sfw request! 

grumpy!bucky x sunshine!reader first kiss

a/n: you know, you know, us two we've been back in it with this dude recently 🫠

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist |  join my 10k celebration!

“So,” uncontrollable giggles bubbled out of you as you beamed over at Bucky beside you on the bench, “I was just wondering if maybe–…”

Not peeling his steely glance away from the ducks swimming through the park’s lake, “what?” he absentmindedly grumbled, “just spit it out, please.” 

“Can I, uhm…” your body practically wiggled as you finally asked, “can I kiss you?”

You could have counted on only one hand how many times you’d seen Bucky crack a smile in the time you’d known him. But as your fluttery words found his wind-chilled ears like an ethereal butterfly, you could now officially start using both of your hands. 

Twisting his gaze away from the patch of flora and fauna in the middle of the bustling city, Bucky smiled softly back at you for a flash before his fingers, which had been curled behind you and rested on the bench, then curved over the nape of your neck as he brought you close to meet him halfway.

His kiss was slow and soft, like sipping on a steaming mug of hot chocolate on a freezing day, his radiating lips seemed to warm you from within and conjure a soft sigh to seep from your lungs. 

“Yes, Y/n,” he gently pulled back, his grasp now cupped against your hot cheek, “of course you can kiss me. You can kiss me all you’d like.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[andvys]

You said you were gonna grow up (then you were gonna come find me) ⭐︎ S.H.

⭐︎ Warnings: slight angst, mutual pining, idiots in love, childhood best friends to lovers, allusions to cheating (but not really), mentions of sex, mentions of unrequited love, hurt/comfort

���︎ Summary: You and Steve used to be inseparable, best friends since childhood, you shared something special, something rare. You promised each other forever but... promises are never to keep... right?

⭐︎ Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

⭐︎ Word count: 10k

⭐︎ Author's note: To my Steve girlies who have read (and still mourn) I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss -- in the middle of writing this little oneshot, I noticed that Steve and reader reminded me of someone, and then I realized that it's basically Steve and Cheer in a different universe (if Steve hadn't fucked up as badly as he did). This is... what they should have been.

Also shoutout to @hellfire--cult for inspiring me to finish this oneshot (finally) and @ghost-proofbaby thank you for picking a title for me, and for your sweet words about this little piece, you're both the bestest

⭐︎ my library

divider by @saradika (I screamed when I saw the folklore dividers)

♡

The smell of weed and smoke lingers in the air, music blares through the house and bounces off the walls, laughter and giggles come from every corner, conversations he couldn’t care less about yet listens in on because what else is there to do at a party? 

Steve once found himself at home in such gatherings, now he feels nothing but bored as he watches the people instead of interacting with them like he once used to do. 

He used to be on the dancefloor, at the keg stand, pressing some girl against the wall and kissing her neck before taking her upstairs into one of the empty bedrooms – but those days are long over and they are not to be missed, not in the slightest. 

Now he is sitting out in the backyard of some stranger’s house, sipping on a lukewarm soda and waiting for Robin to get sick of this party so he can take her home before going to his empty house and crashing out on his new bed. Seeing as she’s jumping around on the dancefloor with Vickie, it doesn’t seem like she'll want to leave anytime soon. 

 A sigh falls from his lips and he slumps his shoulders in boredom. 

He could be socializing, talking to girls, flirting with them, with the ones who keep waving at him and sending him suggestive, overly sweet looks – he isn’t interested. The past few months were wasted ones, disastrous dates, one or two meaningless hookups, girls who weren’t interested in him but only in sex – that was his reality and he didn’t want that anymore, he doesn’t want that anymore, he wants something real, he wants to feel something, he wants someone to want him for more than just that one thing, he wants a connection, a bond, he wants… you. 

Steve’s lips part, his eyes lighten up, glowing just like the stars in the night sky, he sits up straighter and cranes his neck to see you better, his heart skipping in a way it hasn’t in a long time, he forgot what it feels like… but of course you are the one to remind him of the way his heart can skip and flutter when he feels something, you have always been the one, the only one. 

Not even Nancy could make him feel half of the things you could make him feel. 

But he blew his chances with you – the only chances that ever mattered. 

He hears your laughter, your beautiful giggles that he missed every day since you left, even from all the way here, he can hear the voice that accompanied him throughout most of his life… until it didn’t. 

You were his best friend, the only friend that mattered until he found Robin. You were with him from the moment your mothers introduced you both to each other, joined at the hip, you went through it all together, different hobbies, different friend groups, first crushes and rough school days, arguments with so called friends, first parties, first drunken nights, you went through so much and you did it all together, you experienced everything together. 

Steve would sneak into your room, late at night, he would use the vines on the wall as a ladder, no matter how many times you scolded him, he still climbed up because he wanted to see you so desperately, even when he spent the whole day with you, it just wasn’t enough, you’d spent the nights whispering and talking about the newest gossips, sometimes he would paint your nails or braid your hair, sometimes you would just lie next to each other and listen to some new album and sometimes you would cuddle and fall asleep in each other’s arms, it was a regular thing, it was something constant. 

But then something changed, you both got curious, you both started acting upon feelings that have been there for a long time already, feelings that were no longer innocent and childish turned into something more. 

You were each other’s first kiss, it was nothing more than a peck at first… and then it was a second and a third before you kissed for real. And then, it was just another regular thing, you started cuddling and kissing every night, smiling and giggling through it all, holding hands and pulling each other closer and closer. 

Those innocent kisses turned into makeout sessions and those turned into your first time. 

It was his first time and yours, you shared it with each other, like you shared everything else together. 

It was filled with nervous giggles, blushing cheeks and shaky touches, you were both scared to do something wrong but you assured one another and you both did your best, he took care of you and you of him. It was slow, it was soft, it was perfect. A night he will never forget. 

Nothing ever came close to this moment, nothing came ever close to how you made him feel. 

Steve should have asked you out after that night, he should’ve, but he didn’t, he chickened out, he got scared and he left the next morning without saying goodbye. That was his biggest mistake. 

To this day, he doesn’t know how you felt about it all, you never spoke of this night again, you never mentioned it again, you both acted like nothing happened, you continued your friendship like you didn’t ruin it. 

He kept coming over, everything stayed the same… but it didn’t. 

You started slipping away from him and he was too busy to notice, he became captain of the basketball team, girls started noticing him, he started going on dates even though you were all he could think about, it felt wrong to hold their hands, to kiss them, to touch them, he felt as though he was betraying you but his new friend Tommy encouraged him, spoke lies into his ear about how you went on dates on the nights you canceled on him. 

He was hurt, he was angry, and it only was a matter of time before he invited a girl who wasn’t you into his sheets. 

He hated how he felt afterwards, but he didn’t stop, he kept going and before he could even blink, he was the most popular boy in school, he was King Steve, the guy who could have anyone but still only had eyes for one. 

Though your shared nights became less frequent, you still spent time with him, even when you weren’t fond of Tommy and Carol, his big parties or the way he treated girls, you were still there and it bothered him that he couldn’t have you. 

It was clear that you didn’t feel the same, despite the many signs that he had missed at that time. He was your best friend, just your best friend, just Steve. He could’ve made a move, he could've asked you out on a date, he could’ve finally confronted you about your night together and how you felt about it, how you felt about him, but he was scared and it was ironic really, because he was good with girls, very charming and cocky, smug and arrogant but not with you, no, not with you. You made him nervous, you made his chest feel weird, his stomach too, you made his heart race and flutter, you made his skin feel hot and his mind all crazy. 

You got him bad. 

You made him fall in love. 

But he was a coward when it came to his feelings for you, he really was, he didn’t even want to admit them to himself, so he watched you slip through his fingers instead of taking action and making you his. His feelings got stronger despite the distance that slowly grew between you.

You were still there, physically, but your mind was somewhere else and you seemed so far away.

He left notes in your locker, just like he did when he was a kid. 

And you did the same to him. 

You waved at each other from afar and shared smiles, you still drove around town and sang along to your favorite songs after an occasional trip to that one diner out of town, you sometimes slept over and left your sweet scent on his pillows, driving him crazy with it. You were still each other’s best friends. 

But then Nancy stepped into his life and that was it, at that point, it was already crumbling, your friendship was hanging by a thread and it earned its final blow when you moved away for college. 

Occasional calls and letters were all that existed between you at that point, it drove him crazy, it made him sad. He suffered heartbreak when you were gone and you weren’t there to mend it, you weren’t there to hold him, to wipe his tears and tell him that he would be alright – how could you? You were the reason for that heartbreak and Nancy was the one who gave him the final push to open his eyes to the feelings he kept pushing away and feeling so scared of. 

When he realized what a mistake he had made, it was far too late to fix it and he never stopped regretting the actions he took and didn’t take. 

But now you are here, you are back. 

He hasn’t heard your voice in so long, he hasn’t seen your beauty in forever, he missed your presence so dearly. 

One year, one whole year without you. 

Are you here to stay for the summer or are you back for good? He hopes it’s the latter, this town felt anything but home without you here. 

Steve stares at you, he stares and stares without shame. His lips are curled into a soft smile, his cheeks already blushing as he takes you in. 

You are so gorgeous. 

A confident smile is lingering on your lips, your makeup is a little bolder than it used to be, back then, but it suits you, your skirt is short, your top is tight, your cleavage is showing and your skin is glowing, your hair is much longer than he remembers it to be, a few highlights added to your pretty hair color and styled into waves. 

You have always been a sight for sore eyes, he was aware of your beauty from a young age, he called you his princess, his sweet, cute and beautiful princess. But you are more than just beautiful now, you are stunning, bewitching, you are heavenly. 

His heart jumps at the sound of your giggle, his skin heating up so rapidly that it catches him off guard. 

Steve watches you, he watches for what feels like forever, you’re here with friends, girls you used to hang out with back in high school. 

The smile never leaves his lips as he keeps his eyes on you, his heart fluttering more and more each passing second, eyes continuing to light up at every sound of your giggle. 

When you step away from your friends and walk back into the house, he wastes no time to follow, grabbing the chance that he once missed, he goes after you and leaves his drink abandoned on the floor. 

He brushes past a group of guys playing beer pong, dodging the dancing people on the dancefloor, keeping his eyes on your body as he follows. Your skirt is swaying, your waves are bouncing, your hips are shaking slightly, your sweet scent lingers in the air and he can’t help but inhale it deeply, it’s still the same scent that he missed on his pillows and the hoodies you used to steal.

With your back turned to him, you stop in front of the snack table and pour yourself a cup of the overly alcoholised punch. 

Steve doesn’t approach you right away, standing by the doorway, he decides to watch you for a second longer, feeling giddy and nervous now that he is so close to you again. 

You nearly choke on the punch, the bitter taste of alcohol overpowering the fruity taste, you scrunch your brows together and swallow it down in disgust, unimpressed by this drink after all the different kind of cocktails you have tried in the past months on your night outs to bars with your girlfriends from college. 

A sigh falls from your lips and you take a second, much needed sip. 

It feels weird to be back home in Hawkins, the town is much quieter than the big city you called home for the past year and you feel that weird tingly shudder on the back of your neck, knowing that he is so close somewhere. 

Steve. 

You miss him so much, you miss him everyday, but it’s been so long, you can’t even remember the last time you have talked to him. You know that he still works at Family Video and his friend Robin moved into his house with him after his parents moved away from Hawkins, for good. 

But that’s all, you don’t know if he is single or if he is dating – you fear your heart wouldn’t take the information very well, which is ironic really, you haven’t seen him in so long, all you have are your memories, some of which you kept in a shoebox under your bed, pictures, notes, letters and little presents from him. Steve was nothing but a ghost these past months and yet it didn’t stop your heart from falling deeper in love… even with just the boy in your memory, the one that will haunt you for the rest of your life. 

A sigh falls from your lips as you look down at the red beverage in your cup, you close your eyes and take another sip and swallow it but this time in delight, you welcome the burning in your throat. 

“You still make that cute face when you don’t like something.” 

The voice you have just been thinking about sounds deeper than it did when you left. 

Those shudders at the back of your neck, run down your spine and transform into heat across your whole body, your heart skips a few beats.

You turn to face him, sloshing the drink around in your cup, you nearly spill it on the white tiles beneath you. Your breath hitches in your throat and your chest tightens when you look at him for the first time again, those hazel eyes that you have missed so much staring back at you with excitement yet nervousness and you have no doubt that your own eyes match the look in his. 

Your lips curl into a shy smile, your cheeks heat up so quickly and you nearly crush the plastic cup in your hand when you let your eyes roam his body. He somehow got even taller, his arms look stronger and his shoulders wider, his hair got longer too, a spitcurl hanging over his forehead, his cheeks are rosy, a stubble covering his jaw and chin, your eyes move down his arm, stopping at the black hair tie around his wrist that momentarily steals your breath away and fills your chest with hope. You lick your lips and swallow as you stare at the veins in his hands. 

There he stands with his stupid, still perfectly styled hair and his Levi’s that are always way too tight around his crotch, looking down at you and reminding you of how much taller he is and always was. 

“Hey,” he breathes, nervously, happily. 

“Steve,” you say with a smile on your lips, “hi.”

Truthfully, Steve doesn’t know what to say, your heart is beating so hard, he can feel it in his throat, he feels so nervous, you make him nervous. His charm, his flirtatious side still fades into nothing when he is around you and the world around him still disappears when he is with you, some things truly never change. 

He wants to take a step closer and wrap his arms around you, he wants to hug you and never let go again but he doesn’t want to overstep so he forces himself to stay in place. 

“Y-You’re back,” he smiles, trying to hide his excitement. 

You nod, probably a little too quickly. 

“Yeah, I’m back,” you nod again, feeling awkward and tense standing here before him after all the countless nights you spent thinking, dreaming about him. 

He breathes heavily and fidgets with the hair tie around his wrist, “for the summer or…?”

You shake your head, unable to look away from his beautiful eyes. 

“No, I-I transferred to uh the community college here…” You scrunch your face up when you see the surprised look on his face. “I know, lame right? Moving away from Chicago and back to your hometown is uh not the.. move.” 

Not the move? He repeats in his head. 

This might be the best day of his life – the day he had been waiting for, for your return. 

Steve’s eyes widen, he purses his lips as he starts shaking his head, raising his hand a little, he steps closer to you. 

“No! No, I’m just surprised, that’s all, I didn’t think you’d ever come back… honestly,” he chuckles nervously and brings his hand up to scratch the side of his neck. “But I’m happy to see you back here again.” 

Happy is an understatement, the feelings in him can’t be put into words, they do not exist. 

Your eyes soften at his words, your smile transforming into a soft one, hope swirling inside of you. 

Did he miss you like you missed him? 

“I’m happy to see you,” he adds, his cheeks heating up at his admission and your beauty doesn’t help his case, his eyes roam your body, your pretty features, your soft skin, the chain around your neck that looks oh so familiar, his heart starts beating faster, his hands shaking from the giddiness lingering in him. “Y-You look…” Stunning, mesmerizing, gorgeous, sexy, adorable, like an angel or a goddess. “Amazing.” He breathes, blushing red.

Your eyebrows pull together as your wide eyes fill with emotion. 

You see the way he looks at you, you see the redness in his cheeks, the shyness in his eyes that surprises you the most. 

You take a shaky breath, cursing at the way your cheeks heat up and glow so hotly. 

“Thank you,” you say without stutter, to your own surprise. “You don’t look bad yourself, Harrington,” you smirk at him, smugness taking over your blushing features when you see him looking down in nervousness. 

Did you just make Steve blush? 

You open your mouth again, feeling the urge to compliment him again when a whistle interrupts you and wipes the smirk off your face, instead a look of disgust takes over your features when you turn your head to see Tommy Hagan looking you up and down with a perverted smile on his face. 

He pushes his way between you, earning a glare from Steve, whose face turned stone cold and angry. Tommy grabs a red solo cup and pours himself some of the punch while he continues to give you nasty looks, chuckling when looks at your cleavage, “shit, now I get why Harrington always kept his favorite toy to himself,” he smirks and takes a sip of his drink before he steps back to wink at Steve, wiping his chin and looking back to you, “you really grew up.” 

Your lips curl downwards, your brows pull together in a frown. 

“Dude, what the fuck,” Steve frowns at him, giving him a disapproving look. 

Tommy always made you feel uncomfortable with his comments and his weird looks, but it was something else back then. This is new, this is disgusting. 

“If I knew back then that you were hiding these behind your sweaters, I would’ve definitely hit it,” he chuckles darkly as he stares at your boobs. 

Bile rises in your throat and your grip tightens on your cup, the urge to throw your punch into his face growing strong. 

Steve rolls his eyes, a frustrated sigh falls from his lips and he steps towards his former friend, he places his hand on his chest and pushes him back as he takes a protective stance in front of you, protecting you from Tommy’s prying eyes. 

“Alright, that’s enough, asshole,” Steve mumbles angrily. “Leave her alone or I swear to–”

“You swear to what, man? You and I both know you can’t do shit,” Tommy laughs at Steve, his eyes crinkle in amusement, irritating Steve further. 

Steve might’ve lost most of his fights, but he wouldn’t lose one if it came to you. 

He clenches his jaw and glares down at him, feeling rage burn within him. 

“Seriously dude, get lost, alright?” He demands, his voice sounding deeper, more serious than before. 

You look over Steve’s shoulder, feeling safe and protected by him, the way you always did, just even more now. Your stomach flutters with warmth, your heart swelling in your chest. 

To your surprise, Tommy steps away without another word, continuing to chuckle at Steve and the glare on his face. He gives you another look. 

“Call me if you–”

“Fuck off, Tommy,” Steve says through gritted teeth, feeling hot rage flushing through him. 

Tommy takes another sip as he walks backwards, winking at you before he finally turns around and leaves the kitchen, allowing you to finally breathe. 

Steve runs his fingers through his hair and huffs, turning back to you, his features instantly soften. 

“I’m sorry about him.” 

You shake your head, your smile reappearing again, “it’s not your fault,” you shrug, “some people just never change.” 

“Yeah…” He mumbles, wondering if you changed at all, “did you?”

Did you change? You ask yourself. Maybe, surely college has shaped you in some way, being away from home, being independent and all alone, meeting new people and being pushed into situations you would have never allowed as a teenager, did change something in you. 

You got more confident, a little bolder too, you tried new things and did them without shame, something that was once impossible when you were still here and an insecure teen. 

You tilt your head to the side and give him a sly smirk, “why don’t you find out?” 

The anger Tommy left him with fades away, the flirtatious tone in your voice catching him by surprise and you take it even further when you take a step closer to him after placing your drink on the counter, you look up at him with your big eyes that still drive him crazy. 

He doesn’t remember you to be this flirty… this bold but he can’t complain, it makes the fluttering in his stomach feel so much more intense. 

Steve’s lips curl back into a smile, he blinks at you, looking into your eyes intensely, with want and need – nothing changed, if anything, the magnetic force between you has intensified, even when there was mostly only radio silence between you both in these past months. 

Steve licks his lips, a sliver of his confidence slipping back in when he sees the way you look at him, eyes roaming his face and his body. Though his cheeks are still burning and his heart is still racing, no matter how much confidence he can find within himself, you are still you, you are still the girl that holds his heart in the palm of her hand, the one who has him captivated in every way possible, the one who has had him wrapped around her finger, from a very young age. You aren’t just a girl to woo and impress for a single date, you aren’t someone he would forget if a conversation or a date went wrong, you are the one he always wanted to grow old with, to experience everything with, to spend a life with the one who is his everything – one wrong move and he loses it all… again. 

He doesn’t bother to ask if you are with someone, if you are dating and taken, the thought is disturbing to his heart. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” He asks as he slowly reaches for your hand and you allow him to take it when you slip your palm against his and give his hand a squeeze.

He nearly crumbles to his knees when he feels your soft touch again, it’s been too long. Your hand always fit into his so perfectly, like it was made to be held by him. 

You nod, whispering a sweet ‘yes, please’. That’s all he needs to hear before he pulls you closer to his body, pushing you in front of him slightly, keeping a protective stance right behind you as he never lets go of your hand, basking in the feeling of having you so close again, of being able to smell your perfume again and the sweet scent of your body wash. 

He rubs circles on the top of your hand, pressing his other hand on the small of your back as he pushes through the crowds of people. He leads you to Robin first, needing to make sure that she will get home safe without him. He finds her playing beer pong with Vickie and a few of their former bandmates from high school. He taps on her shoulder and when she turns around, Steve grows more nervous than before, because her eyes grow wide when she sees you next to him, excitement flashing in them and a big grin appearing on her face after a long moment of staring at you. 

She knows all about you. 

She knows all about his feelings and his regrets. 

She knows how much he missed you. 

She was there when he cried and never stopped talking about you. 

So after greeting you, probably a little too enthusiastically, she moves closer to Steve, raising her eyebrows at him and giving him a teasing, yet pointed look. 

“Go and don’t worry about me, Vickie can drive, she’s not drinking tonight.”

“You sure?” 

She nods, her waves bouncing as she moves her head a little too quickly. 

“Steve I’m fine, go and get your girl,” she winks at him, squeezing his shoulder before she moves back, giving him another look that says nothing but ‘i mean it, don’t fuck it up this time, this is your chance.’ 

Steve nods at her, smiling and feeling reassured by her. He holds your hand tighter and pulls you away before you can properly say goodbye to his friend that you only know from your days in high school. You look back at her to find her staring at the two of you, grinning from ear to ear, she raises her eyebrows at you, eyes glowing as she gives you a smirk and a small wave of her hand. 

You feel a little confused by the teasing look on her face but smile and wave back at her nonetheless before Steve whisks you away and out of the room.

It isn’t weird to hold each other’s hand, to be back together in his car like nothing ever happened, like you never stopped doing this, like things are still normal between you. He makes small talk, it’s not awkward or weird, it’s… nice, anything is as long as you’re with him, even the silly jokes makes or how he tries to quote Shakespeare but fails miserably, he makes you laugh and you… you make him smile. 

You stop by the gas station to grab a six pack and some snacks to share before you drive to the lookout, to the place you always went to when you wanted to be alone together. 

You get comfortable on the hood of his car, as comfortable as you can get on the rough surface. It’s a little chillier out here in the woods, the wind that blows through the trees makes goosebumps arise on your skin. Steve, of course, has to use the opportunity to throw his jacket around your shoulders, rubbing your arms to warm you up as he moves close enough for you to feel his breath on your skin. 

You feel something stir within you, something only ever he could make you feel. 

You grab the denim and pull it tighter around you, glancing at him through your lashes, you feel your cheeks heat up when you find him staring at you already, a soft smile playing on his lips that you can see, even in this darkness. 

“Thanks Stevie.” A grin tugs at your lips when his smile moves into a flustered one. 

Steve licks his lips, he removes his hands from your body and busies himself with opening the beer bottles for you and him, “you’re welcome, honey,” he whispers, winking at you. 

You look away from him with blushing cheeks, hiding the smile on your face as you tilt your head down but nothing goes unnoticed by him, he sees the flustered expression in your features, the cute smile you’re trying to hold back. 

He scoots closer to you until his shoulder is pressed against yours, he offers you the opened bottle. You glance at his hand, taking in the size of it, how big it is, how his veins pop, how long his fingers are – it makes you squirm and clench your thighs together and he notices it, he looks down and he almost regrets it, almost. Your skirt has ridden up, it nearly covers nothing, at this point. Your skin looks so smooth, thighs so soft, he wants to touch them, kiss them, feel them wrapped around his head. 

His skin heats up, his lower stomach tingles, he craves you, in every way possible, he just wants to… feel you, he wants to feel you close, he wants your skin on his, he needs to know that you are truly back. 

Your touch sends shivers down his spine, it makes his stomach flip. 

He blinks, looking down at the bottle he is still holding, watching the way your hand curls around it, fingers grazing his own. Your hand is so much smaller than his, the urge to compare the size of his own to yours growing strong. 

“Steve?” 

Your soft voice pulls him out of his thoughts, he blushes, cheeks burning maroon. He shakes his head a little, squeezing his eyes shut as he furrows his eyebrows, he removes his hand from your bottle, already missing the touch of your hand. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs as he runs his fingers through his hair, “I got a little uh… distracted.” 

He instantly regrets it when his eyes fall back on your lap again, your giggle makes him blush even deeper, he eyes you from the side, watching the way you press your lips against the bottle, you take a sip, trying to hide the smirk on your lips. 

He feels a sudden sense of nervousness rushing through him – here he is, in the presence of the girl of his dreams, the girl that slipped through his fingers, the girl that should be his and he is messing up. He begins to stutter, trying to distract himself once again, this time from your legs, from your soft skin, from how much he wants to touch and kiss you, from how beautiful you are but you make him stutter, you make it difficult for him to talk, you make it impossible for him to be smooth, to flirt with you the way he always did with other girls and suddenly, he is reminded of why he was always so scared of revealings his feelings to you, there was too much at stake, he didn’t want to lose you. 

He always felt so pathetic around you, like a stupid kid in love, one that can’t talk to his crush without blushing, without stuttering. 

And this is exactly what you always adored about him. 

But he doesn't know it, he doesn’t even realize it, he doesn’t even see the way your eyes always light up, the way they soften as you look at him, the way you admire him. 

Before he even takes a sip of his beer, he already feels like he is drunk, his skin is hot, his mind hazy, he feels happy, at ease, like he is floating, all because of you, you make him feel so… light. 

He is drunk on you, without having touched you properly, your presence is enough. 

He wonders how you are holding up, what emotions linger inside of you — you look so calm, relaxed. 

You fall into a comfortable conversation, catching up on the things you have missed in each other's lives, since being separated. And while your eyes stay glued on the night sky, only glancing at him every once in a while, he watches you, with a fluttering feeling in his chest and a smile on his lips. 

You laugh with each other, getting lost in the memories that you both start bringing up, joking and slapping each other’s shoulders softly as you start to tease one another about the stupid things that you both have done in the past. 

You have changed, not only physically did you get even more beautiful, you got something that you didn’t have before, a boldness that you always admired others for. You used to be so shy, anxious to ask the simplest questions, too nervous to hold eye contact for longer than two seconds, even with him, sometimes. But now, despite you choosing to look at the sky instead of him, he can tell that you are not that shy girl anymore, who was afraid to look into his eyes. You are confident, comfortable in your own skin, not afraid to be you, not afraid to gaze into his eyes when you tilt your head to look at him. 

He wonders what or… who caused it, the change in you. 

Was it just the circumstances? The big city that pushed you out of your comfort zone? 

New friends? Being on your own? Or… was it the experiences you have made in these past few months that have shaped you from an innocent, shy teenager into a confident, young woman? 

His stomach churns at the thought of the things you have done while being away from home, or better yet, who you have done them with. He has no right to be upset about it, he knows it, yet he can’t stop the sinking feeling inside of him as he thinks of the hands that have touched your body or the lips that kissed yours, if you had dated someone, if you are someone else’s right now. 

The question tumbles from his lips before he can even stop himself. 

“Do you have anyone?” 

The storm that was just raging in his mind, the string of questions that followed now silenced as he stares at you, waiting for your answer with a racing heart and clammy hands. 

The sound of crickets and the rustling of the trees are the only sounds now filling the space around you.

“You mean… a boyfriend?” 

He nods and you shake your head at that. You bring the bottle up to your lips, taking a much needed sip. 

“No, I don’t,” you murmur as your eyes roam his face, “why?”

You notice the frown on his face, the way his lips are curled down and his eyebrows are tightly scrunched together. 

“Just wondering… someone like you still single?” 

“What do you mean…?” You ask slowly.

Steve huffs, shaking his head with a smile on his face. 

“I mean… Come on, honey. You’re funny, you’re smart and you’re just… you’re amazing,” he sighs adoringly, hazel eyes running up down and your face and your body. “You’re beautiful, a fucking catch.”

You almost want to scoff at his words, you want to roll your eyes and look the other way. A catch, right. A catch he never wanted. Your heart betrays you when it flutters and prompts a girlish giggle to fall from your lips. 

“Stop.”

He nudges his shoulder against yours, grinning at your flustered face, “it’s the truth.”

Steve feels relieved to know that you don’t have anyone waiting on you, that there isn’t some guy out there that got the girl he always wanted. 

“You have to say that,” you shake your head and drink the last drop of your beer before you throw the bottle down on the grass, making a mental note to pick it up later. 

Because he is your best friend, because he was always your best friend, no matter what – so of course, he has to say these words to you. 

He rolls his eyes at you, huffing, “I’m not just saying that.” 

You try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, the way his words can make you feel like that shy teenage girl again, you try to steer the attention away from you. 

You press your palm against the cold, almost icy hood, leaning back, you tilt your head to the side and gaze at him, loving how long his hair grew, how his features are more… manly now, though the boyish grin still lingers. 

“What about you?” You whisper, swallowing the bitterness on your tongue. “Got anybody, Stevie?”

He shakes his head quickly, almost frowning at your question. 

“Me? No… no one really… felt right.” He says with a look of longing in his eyes, the one that is only reserved for you. 

The tension in your chest disappears, almost instantly, you have an idea of what you would feel like had the answer been a different one. 

“I was seeing a girl… for a while but uh… like I said, it… she didn’t feel right,” he admits with a nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

You nod, swallowing harshly. 

“Why didn’t she feel right?” You’re aware of how small, how shaky your voice sounds. 

You wait, wait and wait for him to answer your question, the answer he tries to find in your eyes as it seems because he won’t stop looking at you, it’s like he is searching for something, like he is trying to figure you out, like he is trying to make sense of the question you just asked. 

He doesn’t give you what you want, as always, Steve Harrington pretends like nothing happened, like nothing had been asked. 

But you know what he means, you know exactly what he means, you had someone too, back in Chicago. 

He was nice, he was good to you, in more ways than just one but no matter how much you tried not to think of him, you always failed. He was always there, always in the back of your mind, always ready to haunt you and remind you that he is and will always be the only one that your heart will belong to. 

Your relationship was only short lived, and you left him the moment you realized how unfair it was to stay with him when your heart was somewhere else, when you couldn’t stop thinking about Steve. 

Something rustles in the bushes, something echoes loudly through the woods, something that would have normally made you flinch, doesn’t even faze you now because he is here. You feel safe in his presence, you always did, not even the darkest night or the loudest storm could make you feel afraid as long as he was by your side. 

And yet, you scoot closer to him, not even noticing that you do until his fingers brush against yours and sparks shoot through your entire body. 

And through his. 

You clear your throat and take a deep breath, “yeah… I had someone… but he didn’t feel right either.” You say softly, vulnerably as you meet his eyes again. 

A soft ‘oh’ leaves his mouth and he nods, looking down at the bottle in his hand, he brings it up to his lips and downs the rest of it. He feels his stomach churning, his insides crawling at the mere thought of you with someone who isn’t him and it makes him feel awful, it makes him feel ridiculous because wasn’t that his own fault? He blew his chances with you. He let you go, hell, he didn’t even fight for you. 

He puts the bottle down, wipes his mouth and runs his fingers through his hair before he turns back to you to find you staring at him just the way you always did, with your big doe eyes, those pleading and begging looks you never stopped throwing at him. 

He’d have to be blind to not see it – he always did, he just never allowed himself to admit it, not even to himself, not even when you were all he ever wanted. 

“Why didn’t he feel right?” 

Steve watches the way your lips curl downwards, the way you squint your eyes at him, the softness fleeing as you glare at him instead.

And suddenly, the air around you feels different, tense for another reason, heavy and filled with something neither of you ever addressed before. 

While you take deep breaths, trying to calm yourself – Steve tries to mend the aching in his chest, the hammering that feels just too strong. 

“Why didn’t she feel right, huh?” You ask, scooting away from him and getting off the hood, placing your feet back on the ground, you don’t even bother to smooth down your skirt. You cross your arms over your chest and stand in front of him, demanding the answer you tried to ask softly before. 

Steve sighs, growing fearful and anxious, feeling like he is messing up yet again, like he is about to lose again. 

But you are close, so goddamn close, even through the anger in your eyes, you still stand in reach, your knees now brush against his. He straightens his back, fighting the urge to reach for your hands and just pull you into him, showing you why no one ever felt right. 

He promised Robin, he promised her that if you ever came back, he would go and get you, he would come clean about it all, he would make it all right again. 

“This goes both ways, Steve. You can’t just ask me and then–”

“Because no one is you.”

He won’t fail this again, no matter how scared he is, he just can’t. 

Your lips part in surprise, a painful look crosses your eyes, though the anger doesn’t fade away just yet. You uncross your arms, and shake your head at him. 

His words should bring you joy, shouldn’t they? 

But as you stand here before him, his knees brushing your own, his golden brown eyes staring at you with nothing but love, you can’t help but feel your heart aching because why now? Why not then? 

“So… it took me to leave town… go to college… for you to say this?” You whisper, holding back a choke as your eyes well up with unwanted tears. 

His own eyes panic when he sees just how much pain there is inside of you, how much you hid it. He reaches forward, taking your hand in his, he sighs in relief when you don’t push him away like he thought you would. 

“It was always there. Before our first kiss, before our first time, and then it never stopped. But you were… you were scary. Feeling love that strong at such a young age– it wasn’t in my plans. I was scared… I was scared of loving you and losing you. It happened before.” 

His parents. 

He loved them unconditionally, he loved them no matter what they did and didn’t do, he loved them and he lost them – they abandoned him and then they forgot about him. 

Your eyes show nothing but pain, your heart breaks, all over again, for him. 

And you’re stunned, so goddamn shocked because that word fell from his lips. Love. He loved you. 

You curl your hand around his, squeezing them tightly as he gets off his car, standing tall before you again. 

“You… still could have–”

“Risked it?” Steve interrupts you, furrowing his brows as he looks down at you. “No… I wasn’t going to risk it. Risk losing you…” He scoffs, shaking his head at himself, “now I see how stupid that was because I lost you anyways.” 

His eyes well up with tears, his voice almost cracks and you finally… finally get to see a glimpse into his heart, how much pain he was always hiding.

“No… I don’t think you lost me.”

“Honey, we haven’t talked in–”

“What you felt for me… Is it… Is it past tense?” 

Steve should see the hope in your eyes, he should hear it in your voice too, but he is so scared, so nervous at this moment. 

Everything he had always been afraid of was losing you because of his feelings and he can’t help but wonder, what if he confesses his love to you now and his saddest fear creeps in and he will lose you for good, forever? 

“Why do you want to know?” He asks, shakily. 

You hold his hands tighter, taking another step closer until you are chest to chest. You close your eyes for a moment and take a deep breath, you look up at him, begging with your eyes, yet again. “Because I deserve to know, Steve, do you still have feelings for me?”

He takes a long pause, feeling like his heart might explode, feeling like the ground might disappear beneath him if he doesn’t finally give you the whole truth. 

His eyes flicker down to your lips, the ones he craved to feel on his own for years, his body aches for you just the way his heart does, desire running deep but love taking full control, driving both his heart and his mind insane over you. He feels the pounding from his chest to his throat, his eyes glossy with tears he shed so many times over you, over his regrets. 

“Yes,” he whispers, already feeling his chest deflating as the pressure slowly sinks away, “like I said, they never stopped.”

Tears spill down yours and his cheeks, his shoulders slump in relief and you, you finally breathe. You sniffle and a giggle falls from your lips, one that makes him furrow his brows but smile because now he can see the happiness in your eyes, the joy from hearing this from him. 

“Oh, thank god,” you whisper and throw your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek against his chest, you hug him tightly, catching him off guard. 

It takes him a moment, it takes him a very long moment. 

His glassy eyes are wide, his heart is threatening to break free from his chest. He wanted this, he wanted you for so long, he feels like this is too good to be true but when he feels your tears seeping through his shirt and how you cling to his body, like you are afraid that he might disappear if you let go, he finally relaxes. His eyes close gently, tears spilling down his cheeks, he melts into your touch and curls his arms around you, cupping the back of your head, he holds you closely, tightly. 

“I missed you so much,” he whispers into your hair, pressing his lips to the top of your head, he gives a first kiss again. 

“I missed you, Stevie,” you murmur into his chest, holding onto his shirt. 

He moves even closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck as you rise to your tippy toes, wanting to feel more of him, as though he isn’t close enough already, not even when your chest to chest. 

Steve breathes in your scent, the one he used to sink his face into when it still lingered on his pillows, when he longed to feel you in his arms, when he craved you so badly but felt too cowardly to make the move he just made now. 

You cling to one another, like you never have before, not even when he held you during nights you needed him the most, when you were both so convinced that you were nothing more than friends… when just friendship was never something possible between you. 

Steve’s eyes are shut tightly, he is so lost in the feeling of you, feeling so warm, so safe, so loved in your embrace. 

How can his heart race so fast yet feel so… calm? 

You don’t know how much time passes as you stand there in each other’s arms, you are so lost in the moment, you couldn’t care less about anything around you, about the time, about your surroundings, about the world – only you and him matter, nothing more. 

He cups the side of your face when you begin to pull away to look at one another, glossy eyes gazing into each other, lips begging to be connected. His fingers brush through your hair, he tucks your front pieces behind your ears and caresses your cheeks. His hazel eyes flash with adoration. You are so beautiful. It makes his heart clench in his chest.  

You slide your hands up his chest, moving up to his neck and cupping his cheeks, your stomach growing with anticipation the closer you both move to each other. 

No words are spoken, there is no need for them, your eyes tell everything, just like your touch when your lips finally connect. 

Your hearts stop beating, time stops ticking, the world stops moving. 

Everything around you stops. 

Just absolutely everything. 

Your eyes flutter shut, just like his. 

A kiss you both never stopped craving finally happening, not only in your minds, but in reality. 

Steve sighs in contentment, a whimper following close behind, your lips move slowly, softly with each other, you savor each and every second, even when you know that this is only the beginning of it all. 

Nothing and no one could ever compare to this, no one could ever come between you, you are two puzzle pieces, ones that were made for only each other, no one else to match you both. It’s only you and him. Your hearts know, you know, he knows. 

The way he kisses you so gently, so sensually, makes your stomach flip in ways it never did before, not even back then when you shared first and second kisses. 

And Steve, he feels like he is in a dream that he never wants to wake from again, he is too scared to open his eyes and find himself in his lonely bed, surrounded by the scent of you that he only imagines, that forever lingers like a kiss upon his skin. 

But your whimper is real, your lips are real, you are real, your lips taste just like they did before, sweet and peachy, like home. 

You only pull away to catch your breath, smiling when Steve chases your lips with his own, nuzzling his nose against yours as a soft giggle falls from his puffy lips, “god… I missed you, princess.” He murmurs against your lips, knowing that he will keep repeating these words, over and over again, he feels like he has been blessed by the universe. 

Your best friend’s eyes shine so brightly, the love in them that you always craved to see, is so evident, it’s all out in the open now, all in reach, all there for the taking – when not even a few hours ago, you didn’t even know where he was, if he still thought of you, if he still cared for you… 

Tears escape your eyes and he wastes not second to catch them, to wipe them away and kiss your wet cheek. 

“Please don’t cry,” he whispers, feeling like his heart might break, knowing that you have suffered just the way he did, when he thought that you moved on, that you had forgotten all about him just like everyone else did when that was never even the case, when all you did was long for him, love him, even from afar. 

“I love you,” he whispers in relief, feeling like the weight of the world is off his shoulders, “I love you so fucking much, you’re my–”

You cup his cheeks and pull him down once again, kissing him deeply. “You.” Kiss. “Don’t.” Kiss. “Know.” Kiss. “How.” Kiss. “Much.” Kiss. “I.” Kiss. “Dreamed.” Kiss. “Of.” Kiss. “This.” Kiss. “Moment.” 

Steve's heart flutters the way it never did before, butterflies go wild in his stomach, his eyes crinkle and he smiles so brightly, his cheeks hurt. 

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips, “I love you so much, Steve Harrington, you have no idea how much–”

His lips are on yours, pressed against them so strongly as he pulls you into another deep, passionate kiss before you can even finish your sentence. He kisses you in a way no one ever did before. 

His thumbs linger on your cheekbones, his tongue parts your lips so effortlessly, your own clashing against his as the softness of your feelings disappears and transforms into something needy, hungry. This kiss is much faster, much rougher, much more passionate than the first, you get lost in it so quickly. 

When he takes a step back and he sits back down on the hood of his car, he moves his hands down to your waist, pulling you in between his legs. 

Your arms move around his shoulders, your hands get lost in his hair, fingers gripping it tightly as moans escape you. The kiss makes you feel so hot, your stomach burns, your skin feels like it’s on fire as his hands move up and down your back, slipping underneath his jacket that is still around your shoulders, under your shirt and then, he touches your soft skin with his cold hand, something that makes you shiver yet lean closer against him. 

He moans against your lips, he is so intoxicated by you, needing more and more, like you’re his own personal drug. He could keep doing this, he could take you right here, right now. He could taste you, unravel you with his tongue, with his fingers, he could hold your hands and make love to you like he always wanted to, like he hoped he’d get to tonight – because he thought that this might be all he would get, a night with you, only that and no more, because how could you ever want anything more than this with him after all the times he messed up with you? After he let you slip through his fingers like it was nothing?

But this won’t stay a single night, this won’t be one that will haunt him for the rest of his life. 

This will turn into more, so much more. 

He doesn’t want to mess it up again, he wants to take it slow, he wants to give you everything you deserve, everything he craved to give you, all these years, everything he dreamed about, during the day and the night. 

So as much as he wants this, you, your bare skin on his and your whimpers blessing his ears, you deserve more, you deserve to be taken on a date first. 

“Hang on,” he whispers against your lips, cupping your cheeks again, his lips curl into an amused smile when he opens his eyes to see your smudged lipstick that is no doubt on his face now too, your hair a mess just like his own, “I want to… fuck… I want you so bad, I couldn’t stop thinking about this, about you. But I want to take it slow, I-I want to do it right this time, I want to take you on a date and–”

You cut him off with a kiss, once more. Pressing your lips against his plush ones, over and over again until it makes you both giggle. He grabs your waist and pulls you down on his lap, grabbing your cheeks, he presses his forehead to yours.

“Slow is good,” you whisper, caressing his cheek as his fingers run up and down your spine underneath the denim jacket. “I like slow.”

“Yeah?” He smiles.

You nod, though an almost sad smile makes its way on your lips, “you know, I kinda thought you forgot about me until all of this.” You wave your hand around, wiping at your wet cheek as a soft laugh tumbles from your lips. 

You weren’t the only one who stopped calling, who stopped sending letters, he did too, but not for the reasons you thought, clearly. 

A deep frown appears on his face, he tightens his hold on you, raising his hand up towards your face, he cups your cheek. Despite everything he just said, despite the kiss, you still don’t understand just how deep his feelings for you are, how his heart isn’t even his own because it is completely, devotedly yours. 

“I could never forget you,” he whispers with a sad smile on his face, “you’re all I ever think about, now and then, even when we were kids, even when I was… King Steve,” he rolls his eyes at the nickname he used to be so proud of. “You never once left my mind, not once.” 

The smile that makes his way to your lips makes his heart skip a beat, he kisses your cheek, letting his lips linger for a moment. 

“So please, let me make it right, let me fix everything… go on a date with me?” He asks with nothing but hope in giddiness in his voice. 

You squint your eyes and tilt your head, giving him a teasing smile as you pretend to think but his soft eyes make your teasing an impossible task at this moment, you wipe the lipstick off his mouth and nuzzle your nose back against his. 

“I would love to go on a date with you, Stevie,” you whisper, feeling your heart burst from joy and love. 

The one thing you always wanted, you always craved now finally happening, at a moment when you least expected it. 

Coming back home made you so nervous, knowing that you would see him again after all this time of being apart, knowing that your feelings will only continue to grow, no matter the tie between you, filled you with a sense of… dread, because you couldn’t help but wonder – does he even want to see you? 

But, to find out that he had spent every passing moment, thinking about you, about your past, wanting you back and willing you to come running back into his arms lights up everything inside you again – flames you have tried to put out, burning stronger than ever. 

Steve’s eyes well up with tears of joy again, he cups the back of your neck, his lips brush against yours, he can’t even describe his feelings with words, so he doesn’t even try, but he shows you the happiness you brought back into his life, the happiness that was just gone when you were… gone. He kisses you, once, twice… He keeps kissing you, over and over again, unable to stop himself from going back in for more, consumed by love, by gratitude and happiness to know that you came back. 

To know that you won’t haunt his what if’s. 

He won’t chase your shadows wherever he will go. 

Your scent won’t linger from just his memory alone. 

He waited and waited, and he let the lamp burn and now… now you are here, you came back, you came back to him. 

Here, at the lookout where you used to sit on your saddest days, you find your way back to one another again. 

As you embrace the future written for you, you know that the rings on your fingers won't only be imaginary ones like the ones from your childhood.