#Can we turn back time pretty please | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tonycries · 2 months ago

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Something Stupid - G.S.

Synopsis. Five times the strongest would rather díe than tell you he loves you, and the one time he almost does. Almost.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, friends-to-lóvers, canon fix-it, PINING, dry-húmping, face-sítting (fem receiving), creampíe, overstím, PÚSSYDRUNK GOJO, ríding him until he whínes, no smút until they’re adults obvs, slight ángst, manga spoilers, found family, THE HAPPY ENDING WE DESERVE, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 9.6k

A/N. Tumby lemme post this pwease? What canon? This is the only canon I know.

“Catch me if you-”

Sixteen-year-old Gojo Satoru doesn’t have the privilege of finishing his sentence - hell, he doesn’t even have the privilege of standing, apparently.

Because in the blink of an eye, his back is hitting the soft grass of Jujutsu Tech, followed very shortly by a bewildered you. Foreheads knocking together, your hands grabbing at his broad shoulders, his own wrapping around your waist for some sense of stability.

Years later, Gojo tells everyone that would listen - and anyone that won’t - that life became just a bit brighter ever since you crashed into his life that day - literally.

But right now, he’s opening his mouth to spit an irritated, “Watch it!”

It’s the first words you ever say to him, a shrill - almost hysterical - “Huh? No, you watch it-”

“Nuh uh, you-” Head spinning, shades skewed, it takes Gojo a few seconds to screw his bleary eyes open to the sudden newcomer straddled on top of him. And a few more to register that no, he wasn’t in heaven and hey, that uniform looks familiar. And, unfortunately, not even a split-second longer to breathe out something stupid, “I…I think I love y-”

“You stupid, moronic- wait what?”

The next few words out of his mouth are just as bad as the last ones, if not worse. Because yes he knows - for once in his life - that maybe he should just stop talking. He knows that even a moment longer with you is gonna turn his mind into more of a melty, honeyed mess than Six Eyes ever could.

Which is exactly what he blames when jumbling out a garbled, “Dinner tomorrow?” Wincing, Gojo swallows them back almost as quickly as he wished he was swallowed up by Geto’s rainbow dragon instead.

To your credit, you look a lot less bumbling than the strongest currently pinned underneath you. That look of annoyance on your pretty features melts into something of concern. And before he can dig a deeper hole for himself, you’re raising the back of your hand to splay out across his forehead.

“I didn’t think you hit the ground that hard but-” you raise a brow, head tilting to the side. “-I think you’ve got a concussion.”

Oh, yeah he’s definitely in heaven - that or actually concussed. Maybe both.

A low whistle sounds from his right - and soon enough he’s staring at the shoes of the other first-year he’d met just today. Low bangs hanging over his face, jostling with light cackles, “Haven’t they told you not to confess your undying love until at least the second date, Gojo?”

Nevermind, he was in hell.

“Ieri!” Geto turns towards the other girl, who was busy typing away on her phone. But Gojo could’ve sworn he heard the shutter of a camera coming from her way. “He was flown out of bounds, that’s gotta count as one point for me, right? And another for the pretty girl. You keepin’ score?”

She only sighs, “No.”

What’s a first day at high school without a duel between two of the proudly self-proclaimed strongest? And, of course, you - the fourth addition to their little group, hastily scrambling off of Gojo’s lap at the jeering laughter from above.

Dammit.

Later, he might apologize for running headfirst into you - might. Ignoring the pointed giggles, and the burning rouge at the very tip of his ears, to find out your name. And to make up some stilted excuse about how that was completely the concussion talking and he totally wasn’t serious about having dinner so please, please, please don’t snitch to Yaga about the impromptu matches taking place on school grounds…unless?

But for now, Gojo’s only lazily turning to look up at Geto, bringing a hand up to squint against the harsh sun beating down. Or, at least, that’s what it was meant to look like - “Technique amplification: Blue!”

He only hopes the property damage isn’t as high as what his poor heart had just gone through. Detention with Yaga be damned - and if by some grace of the universe he actually does end up escaping before he’s caught then, well, he’ll actually ask you out to dinner tomorrow.

---

Gojo Satoru is almost eighteen when he thinks that not even the Gojo family’s most expensive insurance will cover whatever curse you’ve casted on his poor heart.

You’re both well into the second year, and by now he’d been to twelve different doctors, five shamans, and Principal Yaga himself before Geto smacked him upside the head.

“Satoru, you complete imbecile-”

“Hey!” He fights out of his best friend’s grasp around the scruff of his uniform, crossing his arms over his chest with a whine, “I’ll have you know that I got the highest exam score last week, and I cheated only a little bit-”

Geto cuts him off with a sigh, wearily pinching the bridge of his nose, “No- you idiot. What do you mean you went to Yaga to girl-talk with him about your crush.” And when Gojo’s mouth falls slack, he’s smirking, “Oh- my bad, I meant your love-”

It’s said that Gojo’s gasp echoed all throughout the wooden corridors of the school - maybe even the entire grounds. Hotly, he’s sputtering out broken little excuses, “I don’t- what do you-” Before turning away to cool the burning of his sweetly rosy cheeks, “You’re the imbecile for spewing out such nonsense, Suguru.”

“Are you sure?” Geto turns to get a better look at the way those pretentiously expensive glasses fail to cover even the half of it. He’s never been able to, when it comes to you. “Because that’s quite literally the first thing you said to her-”

“I had a concussion!”

“After she touched you?”

And for perhaps the first time in the years he’s been wreaking havoc on Earth, Gojo is speechless. A welcome change for Geto, who mulls over in the silence while they loiter - very much missing whatever mission was assigned right now.

“I…” he starts, voice small. Pathetic, even. “...was concussed.” And before Geto can let out the same frustrated, dragged-out groan he often does whenever he’s around the two of you, Gojo’s plowing on, “But if I did lo- like her - hypothetically speaking - how would I even tell her?”

Usually, the other’s first reaction would be to tease his best friend. But at this moment he sounded so…young, painfully sincere in a way that was so disgustingly un-Gojo-like that he can’t help but cringe.

“Well, Satoru.” he muses, throwing a hand around his shoulder. “You just gotta…tell her my man. Preferably before that big mission coming up because I am not dragging your moping self around.”

He rolls his eyes, scoffing, “Gee, thanks. I’ll totally get on that tomorrow.”

“You’re welcome.”

BANG!

Yaga’s voice bellows, “Can you two stop doing this outside my office!”

And as much as Gojo hates to admit it, Geto was right - he usually was.

Well - perhaps not about the love part, but subconsciously, he found himself seeking out every tiny moment with you. Every second by your side - ignoring the other two bothers - was a new opportunity to just tell you. To break that thick solitude inside your little bubble with those little words. Ones that would go and spoil it all.

Not to be dramatic, but Gojo almost made a game out of it. Mouthing out the words whenever your back was turned - it started from “Dinner tomorrow?” to “I like you.” to something stupid that only gave Shoko aneurysms.

And, expectedly, “tomorrow” doesn’t happen to be tomorrow.

Tomorrow isn’t in your next class, or whatever mission Gojo tags along with you for “moral support.” Tomorrow isn’t the cozy little detention the two of you attend after catching Yaga’s interpretive dance routine - “that’s the scariest thing I’ve ever seen- even more than any curse.” you whisper fearfully to him, and he thinks he might just blurt it out right then and there.

Tomorrow isn’t when he’s just about to leave on some confidential mission with Geto, bidding you goodbye with a roll of his eyes and a hug he pretends he doesn’t like as much as he actually does. Tomorrow isn’t even when he’s baking in Okinawan sun, or strewn out bloodied and left for dead on the very grounds he met you on.

But oh how he wishes it was.

In that moment, incapacitated by Toji Fushiguro, and wondering where it went wrong, he thinks of you. Gojo thinks he’ll always remember you in every moment, and especially when they’re his last.

The Star Plasma Vessel mission and its aftermath takes up most of his mind afterward, even when he didn’t want it to. And all he can remember about tomorrow comes only a few months later, when an ashen-faced Gojo Satoru slams open the rickety door to your dorm.

“G-Gojo?” you sputter, sitting up in your bed. But before you can even think of reaching him, he’s crossed your floor in a few long strides. “Are you ok- mmpf!”

In an instant, he’s splaying out on your mattress, legs dangling off the end, strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

Your first instinct is to snap something snarky - but every tease at the very tip of your tongue vanishes when he buries his head into your lap. And you feel something wet, something drench though your skirt heatedly.

“Is…” you’re gulping thickly. “Is everything okay, Satoru?”

Ah, his name sounds too perfect on your tongue.

“Suguru…” Is all he shudders out wetly, jittery hands looping even more vice-like around your figure. “He-”

It’s just about the only thing he can get out, and it’s just about everything you need to hear before bringing his shivering body closer. Quiet. Steady. Rocking the strongest gently, while you hum a wordless melody. “S’alright. S’gonna be okay.”

Now, he thinks. Now now now now - tell her. Tell her. But when a tear of your own stains his shirt, he knows. Hauling you in even deeper to his chest, he prays you don’t hear his thundering heart. Perhaps tomorrow.

---

Gojo is twenty-one by the time he’s dragging you hand-in-loveable-hand through the winding hallways of an apartment in the heart of Tokyo. Mumbling excited little mutters, and almost tripping over his own feet with how fast he was navigating the corridors.

“Sato- S-Sato-” you’re squealing out, grimacing at the tugging burn of your hands in his. “Toru! Where are you- taking me?”

Sheepishly, he looks at you over his shoulder, “Whoops, did I forget to tell you- I have kids!”

He doesn’t know what’s louder - your shocked shout of “What? When?...By who?” or the screeching of his own two shoes skidding to a halt in front of that familiar door.

“Well, they’re not mine.” Gojo sighs ultimately, with a hand at the door. And that makes you quieten down just enough to hear his barely-audible little whisper. Determined. Reverent, almost. “But they’re mine.”

And when he finally opens the door, just one look at the tiny, black-haired little boy and his sharp scowl is all you need to understand. You’re whirling your eyes back to his beaming gaze, oh, Satoru.

Only mere moments later the two of you - accompanied by a very begrudging Megumi, and his sister - sit by the booth of one of your favorite cafés. Embarrassingly, he finds himself sighing while watching you crack jokes with the little girl. Turning to the server to order for her - it almost felt like a little family. Oh you’d make such a perfect mother. A completely objective observation, of course. Completely. Unless-

“You’ll never do it.” a tug on his sleeve has him facing Megumi’s leveled stare. How the hell does a kid manage to look like he’s seen the monstrosities of the world already? Gojo blames the father.

Baring his teeth, “The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Little did he know that all it took was watching him seethe whenever the waiter by your side was just a bit too talkative, a bit too lingering with his gaze. In his little reverie, Gojo had accidentally croaked out a low, “I-” before you’d turned those pretty eyes his way, only to choke back embarrassingly on every syllable. Gesturing at you to ignore his little mishap.

“Tell her, I mean.” Megumi hums. Taking a wizened sip of his milkshake, “She’ll date that waiter before you if you don’t tell her.”

“That’s so…so stupid.” Gojo whispers back hotly. “I will tell her.”

“Will not.”

“Will too.”

“Will not.”

“Will-”

“Boys!” Your scolding tone makes them both jump - mainly Gojo, however, caught off-guard. Who scratches behind his neck when you wag a finger admonishingly, “Stop arguing, we’re in public. Now, as for payment-” Before turning back politely to the waiter.

“See?” Megumi counters, back to appraising the last of his cupcake. “You’re such a loser.”

Gojo’s gaze, however, stray back your way, as he found them often doing these days. Only to find them already on him, scrunched into crescents with a smile and twinkling so bright that he could almost catch his idiotic gawking in them.

Very pointedly he ignores the knowing roll of Megumi’s eyes, the exact type he’s seen too much with Shoko, and Nanami, and Utahime, and Yaga - and every single being to come into contact with his almost-tangibly hopeless feelings for you.

Instead, slamming that shiny new black card of his down in front of him - with enough fervor that the tabletop jostles, and you jolt out of your conversation with the waiter.

“I’ll be the one paying for myself, and my two kids and-” His burning eyes drink in every shred of surprise on your features. “-my wife.”

Somewhere in the distance, Gojo can hear Tsumiki giggle, and Megumi smack a hand onto his forehead. But right now he’s too busy remembering the exact degree to which your lips curl up, the way you hold back a laugh at the waiter’s jaw dropping. Nevermind the fact that the two of you were way too young to have two kids of this age.

“He was getting a bit pushy.” you’d conspire afterwards, now completely full and fatigued after a long day. “Thanks for that, Toru.”

Gojo sighs, flashing you a megawatt grin. If there were ever a time he thanks his Six Eyes for being able to memorize every little detail - every little feature in this picture - then it would be right now. He’s reveling in the bittersweet perfection. Yeah, he thinks, holding up a sleepy Megumi in his arms, maybe tomorrow.

---

There’s actually been about sixty different times over the years that Gojo knows you’d wanted to punch him straight in his face - and he’s sure, at the age of twenty-seven, that this is the very latest one.

“How did you get hit, don’t you have limitless?”

He shoots a wink your way, “Maybe I wanted you to patch me up?”

You scoff, “You stupid, moronic-”

“-no-brained, glasses-wearing dumbass.” he finishes for you, flashing you a cocky smirk that wouldn’t have been endearing for anyone but him. Gojo makes himself more comfortable on the hard infirmary bed, “You know, you’ve really got to update your list of insults, sweetheart. I don’t even wear the shades that much anymore.”

It was new - as soon as you’d cackled at the idea of him being a teacher with perpetual sunglasses, he’d wrapped that blindfold around his head. It was a slight shame, frankly, he was always honest with his eyes - but what was more important was that change.

Sweetheart.

Sometime after you’d intertwined seamlessly into Gojo’s mishmashed little family, he’d taken to calling you syrupy sweet nicknames. It’d started out as a joke, you think - with “sugarplum” and “honeybuckets” and whatever grocery item he could think of, before turning into something very, very real.

Though, they still made poor Megumi grimace in disgust just the same.

“Zoning out on me, babygirl?”

Yeah, sometimes they made you grimace in disgust, too.

“No-” you’re rolling your eyes, putting a little bit more force than necessary when you dab the warm napkin at those tiny specks of blood on his lip. “Just hoping you’d shut up.”

Gojo hisses, eyes crinkling at the edges - and you can’t help but think of how much older he looked than the disgruntled sixteen-year-old that swore at you on your first day.

“What?” his snowy brows raise, catching the hints of your laughter.

You take a moment longer to bask in the memories, before sighing. “Nothing. Just thinking about when we first met, s’been ten years already, hasn’t it?”

Of course, it has - it’s not like something the great Gojo Satoru could ever even think about forgetting. He remembers it in every cheesy selfie from high school you show him, he remembers in each and every one of your laughs at his overused jokes - the same ones he’d cracked way back then.

“It has.” he’s settling on after a few rare beats of silence. The thick white sheets on the bed rustle as he grasps your hand in his, “And I think I remember that today more than any other.”

It was impossible not to, when you’d just met your best friend after ten years. When you’d just killed your best friend with your own two hands.

Your pretty eyes shine with all the tears you’d been hiding, “Yeah? Guess so, huh?” Without warning, you bend down to meet your forehead with his, gulping back heavily. You knew he didn’t just want to be patched up, you knew better. And you knew that even the strongest gets lonely. Especially the strongest. Your voice is strained, quiet. “Do you think he’s happier now, Toru?”

Truthfully, Gojo doesn’t know.

But he whispers anyway, “I think so.”

To soothe you - and himself - if anything.

His eyes burn, and he’s scrunching them shut. A lump forming in his throat, Gojo can feel his entire being just rattle with the sudden wonder whether you’d feel it just the same when - if - he dies. Would you ask if he’s happy, too? Thinking he did and had everything he wanted in this life - not knowing he’s searching for you in every one? This life, and the next, and each one after.

“Sweetheart.” Gojo mumbles, eyes widening when you’re raising your head to look back at him, as if he didn’t even expect the words to fall from his lips. His jaw clenches, eyes flitting between your eyes and your lips like the rest of it was just threatening to wrench from his throat. “He- Suguru. Back in high school - before he…left- he told me-”

“Gojo sensei, where is the- Oh!”

The two of you jump apart as if it burned, and for Gojo, the angry split on his lower lip hurts infinitely less than losing your touch. Holding back a silent whine, he turns towards the dark-haired boy fretting by the doorway, “Yuta? Something wrong?”

“Oh, you’ve done it, newbie.” Panda’s deep voice sounds from behind the doorway, and he peaks his large head in. “Gojo’s got his serious voice on, should’ve just spied silently like me. I told you not to interrupt him and his wife.”

“You’re married?!”

“We’re not married!”

“Tuna.”

The room erupts in far too many voices, and before long you’re clapping your hands in that strict teacherly manner that Gojo teases you always learned from Yaga himself.

“Okay, that’s enough.” you call out, before turning to the newest first year. “Okkotsu, do you need help with anything? I’ll be right with you.”

“I…I really didn’t mean to interrupt.” he’s bowing with apologies, ones that you only wave away with a chuckled-out, “It’s okay, Panda’s joking. We’re not married or anything anyway.”

And Gojo doesn’t know whether the look Yuta gives him is more akin to pity or understanding - he prefers it be neither, which is why he’s covering his head with the blanket. Groaning dramatically until you’re turning your attention back to him.

You ruffle the amount of his hair peaking, and he has to screw his glassy eyes shut. “Toru, what is it that you wanted to say?”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s stupid.” His tone is unreadable, “I’ll tell you, hope- hopefully tomorrow.”

---

“Stay.”

“Sweetheart-”

“Stay.”

“Sweetheart.”

You’re barely holding up the clingy mess that is a twenty-nine-year-old Gojo Satoru. Huffing and puffing in a way that makes his heart and his arms around you just squeeze, “It’s not an option. You know I have to do this.”

How he wished he didn’t.

How he wished he could grab your hand and run away from the fight with Sukuna, hide in the countryside of his hometown and build a new life with you.

It’s already been a hellish few weeks trying to get Gojo unsealed, and you can feel the last few months pounding at your temples. You let out a sigh, one that has him holding back a strangely giddy laugh. But before you can open your mouth to yell at him to not go - or more accurately, beg him until he doesn’t - there’s a tentative voice speaking up from behind you.

“Um…sensei?” Yuji’s wide eyes sweep over his two teachers, being at Jujutsu Tech for a few months, he’s seen everything there is to see about the two of you. He saw the way you smacked the strongest when he got too mouthy, the way he let down limitless just so you could smack him. He saw the laughs, the looks, the way you’d flown into a frenzy when Gojo was sealed.

Everyone saw.

It was like you were crazed, and right now, only a month after his return - you were gripping onto Gojo like he was the only thing keeping you anything but.

So, it shouldn’t be new at this point. But he still can’t hold back the wonder in his voice, “I uh- wanted to ask about your robes for tomorrow- but maybe I can come back another time?”

“Yes yes, come back another time-”

“What robes?”

You narrow your eyes at the man, and that sheepish little curl of his lips does everything but soothe your worries. He knew you saw right through him, you always did.

Gojo’s exclaiming out loud, “Well- remember Toji-?” He waves his hands around, trying for a slightly softer way to say ‘the sorcerer killer and father of our honorary kid, who just-so-happens to be on a rampage right now’, before ultimately settling on, “-the worm guy? Well, I just figured I might as well take a page out of his book and dress like him, y’know since I’m fighting…Megumi after all.”

It takes a few seconds of stunned silence for you to find your voice, “You stupid-”

“-moronic, no-brained, blindfold-wearing-”

“-dumbass! You remember what happened to him!”

He bats his long, long lashes at you, “Why? Would you get this heated if I died just the same way he did?”

“No!” Your voice makes even Yuji flinch, which in turn has you reaching over to pat his head, “This is not on you, darling, of course. But your teacher here-” And it was comical, almost, the way the strongest stands up ramrod straight at just a leveled glare from you, “-will be getting it when he comes back from the fight.”

Comes back.

Oh, as much as Gojo throws his head back with chortles, he can’t help the way his heart twinges at the very thought of leaving you.

And he can’t be sure of just how long.

“Ah, you talk too much, pretty. I’ll tell Megs how much you miss him.” You’re not given a second’s warning before you’re back in his embrace - more steady, this time. His arms securely around your waist, like they’d been twelve years ago and never wanted to leave since. Lips pressed up against the thundering pulse at your neck, Gojo’s voice dips just a bit lower than you’re used to. Breathing you in, “I will, too, y’know? Very much.”

Jittery, he could feel every slight tremor in your nervous fingers when you run them through his hair, dipping into the ends of his black blindfold.

“Wh-what do you mean? S’only for a few hours, Toru.” you hum. “You better be back or so help me.”

“I know…” he heaves out, only pressing you close up against his broad frame. “But just in case- I-” Gojo’s voice cracks pathetically at the end, and he’s instantly too aware of Yuji’s keen eyes still watching. Edging up against the corner of the room like he wished he could have Gojo’s teleportation powers right about now. “-have something stupid to tell you. So I’ll hurry home anyways.”

You’re pulling back to quirk a brow, “Why not just tell me now?”

How he wished he could.

“Because it’s stupid.”

Later, Gojo will find himself strewn across jujutsu hall with Yuji himself - the only one, other than you, he thinks, that can stand to be around a weapon like him right now. Listening to the hum of cursed energy in the air, he gets himself ready for the fight.

“Why didn’t you tell her? Especially now?” His student pipes up, suddenly, and Gojo remembers with a sigh just how uncomfortably in tune he is with everyone around him. Fearfully, so. “That you lov-”

“Because it’s stupid.” the older one grins. Such a sad, warmly smile - and for perhaps the first time, Yuji thinks that Gojo Satoru looks his age. “And I don’t think she’d want to hear it if I don’t make it to tomorrow.”

---

“Stupid.” you mutter, biting angrily at your nails. Hot tears burn behind your closed lids, and you can’t help but tighten your hand even more around his cold, cold ones. Limp. Like death. “You’re so, so stupid.”

There’s no response. No sing-song voice finishing off your insults, no large and ruffling your hair until you have to bat him away.

Gojo Satoru was deathly still.

Laid out on the cold mattress of his room, you’d bugged Shoko enough to let you move him here, knowing how much he hated the infirmary.

“Being so reckless- having Yuta use your body-” in your fit of anger, you’re whirling your head up. Only for the pang of regret and grief to hit you tenfold all over again - because like this, he was too statuesque. A pretty mask of pale, what you’d give to have those eyes wink at you once more. “-if- when you wake up, I’m gonna kill you all over again.”

They told you he was dead - there was no point in waiting. In fact, you were sure there was a grave dug already, it was just a matter of how soon they could get to you.

It was a strange thing, to be loved just enough to get a burial. In the end, it was lonely.

And so stupid.

And at times, you felt that way, too. But all it took was one visit to where Geto’s grave was, a few long hours sat by his side, and you knew you couldn’t let Gojo escape you that easily. Not after everything, not after what he hasn’t told you, yet.

“Just wake up.” you sigh, the defeat bleeding into your every word. You run your thumb over the pronounced knuckles on his hand, calloused and scarred from his fight. “There’s so much to hear about. Higuruma’s alive, Nobara’s alive, pulling off that eyepatch. Like father, like daughter, huh? And Megumi- I saw Megumi laugh today. Yuji, too.”

Silence. Only stone-cold silence. He didn’t even move - not even the barest twitch of a finger.

“I just need you to wake up.” Your words are tumbling out a mile a minute, distantly, you wonder whether this was how Gojo felt when he first met you. How he couldn’t stop talking. Couldn’t stop wanting. “Shoko’s mad at you, y’know? But I know she misses you, no matter how much she pretends not to. I know that Jujutsu Tech can’t go any longer without Yaga, we- I need you. Didn’t even get to tell you-”

It’s all croaked out into a deafening silence, at least if you were in the hospital room then maybe the pinging of the heart monitor might’ve accompanied you. But they’d pulled him off that, too.

Unmistakable.

“And I know that I…” You bury your face into the now-damp blankets, “I love you.”

“And I love you.”

There’s only the split-second you take to snap your head up before lips are crashing onto yours - plump, slightly-chapped but something so sweetly Satoru. Before you can even think about kissing back, however, he’s pulling away.

Only to press hasty, chaste pecks again. And again. And again and again and-

Gojo kisses your wet eyelids, “I love you.” Your forehead, your cheeks, the corners of your lips. “I love you I love you I love you- and you beat me to it.” Those strained little words strike your very core - because it’s unmistakably Gojo. Sounding anything but, they’re broken and wrenching painfully out of his wracking chest. “So I just- I just had to-” Big, strong arms wrap around your middle - when did they even get there? It pangs somewhere in your hazy mind that you’re basically hoisted up on Gojo’s bed now, “-to do exactly what I’ve been wanting to since we were like this, thirteen years ago. Everything I’ve ever hoped for.”

“Everything?” you whisper.

“Everything. Even the strongest has dreams, y’know?” And he flashes you that smile you’ve missed so much, one you don’t think you’ve quite seen in years. “Even something stupid like ‘I love you.’”

That makes you cautiously glide over your palms onto the planes of his muscled chest, lightly pushing away to take in all of him.

It was him. Alive.

Really alive.

“Gojo…” you whimper, tears welling up behind your eyelids all over again.

“Ouch. Really?”

“Satoru.”

“Hmmm…”

“Toru.”

“That’s more like it.” The circled warmth around your waist crashes you even closer onto every ridge and divot of his hard chest, into the sweetest embrace - the kind you really couldn’t be mad about after your best friend had almost left you forever. “Told ya I’d come back, sweetheart.”

You could practically hear the sunshiney smile in his words, and his entire hulking body shook with emotion.

“You’re back.” you breathe, dancing your arms upwards to wrap around his neck. “You’re here.” It takes only a second longer of being in his burning proximity, to catch that pearly white smile - tired, and infinitely harder than before - to have some semblance of rationality dipping into your mind. “-and- and we have to tell everyone!” you’re yelping. Moving to scramble off of his lap, “Oh- fuck, and they thought I was crazy. We have to- have to have Shoko give you a check-up and have Kusakabe finally ditch those funeral plans and-”

You’re being shut up by Gojo’s lips on yours again, slow and sensual. It’s deeper this time, and he’s taking the time to part those candied lips of yours, sucking gently on the very tip of your hot tongue.

“My funeral is the last thing I wanna think about right now.” he chuckles against your lips.

“But-”

“Tomorrow.” Gojo soothes, craning his weary neck to kiss your forehead. “We can do all that tomorrow. But right now, I just want to spend time with the love of my life.” His cerulean eyes just gleam with unshed tears and even more unspoken words, “Doesn’t have to be forever. Just right now.”

As promised, he’s petting up and down your body lazily. Kissing you until even smiling felt bruised and raw. But it’s only when the air grows thick, when the slight jostle of your body on top of his becomes hot, his own skin burning soon after that Gojo lets out a sullen hiss.

“Toru-” you pull away panickedly, delicate strings of saliva snapping in the nonexistent air between you two. “We should really-”

“No- no no no no. Please wait-” Hastily, he’s bringing down a jittery hand to his hip, the buzz of reversed curse technique flowing through his thrumming veins. Meeting your uncertain gaze, “I’ve waited so long. Wontcha just let me worship you right now?”

As if to prove his point, he’s bucking upwards ever-so-slightly. The momentum teetering you precariously on his lap, dragging the heated core between your legs down in such a sloppy drag.

You’re gasping when the very outer edges of your panties rub up against something so hard, and rotund. Feeling the wet squelch of his angry tip gush out in a dripping wet wave at the friction. “A-are you sure?” you’re stammering, trying to hold back the way your greedy thighs were trying to rub together. Only achieving heavy, languid gyrations on top of the rock-hard outline of Gojo’s cock. “How about tomorrow? When you’re feeling better?”

It’s a slow, steady rhythm. There’s a ringing schwf! schwf! schwf! of sopping wet fabric, and it was driving him crazy.

“Right now please- haaa-” Gojo’s tongue lolls out so sluttily to graze against your own, dazed blue irises rolling to the back of his head. His spine curves upwards, abs rippling with a harsh drag of your clothed pussy down his weepy shaft. “Whenever you’d have me.”

Almost tentatively, your hips roll forward. That flimsy excuse of your panties bunching up with each grazing rub, it’s all you can do to not just keen at the utterly delicious curve of his thick girth. Throbbing and twitchy under each of your motions.

He’s hissing when your underwear snags on the very divot at his thick head, sitting up on two elbows, “S-sweetheart.”

“No, Toru.” your palms are back on his pecs, easily pinning the strongest down with a gentle push of your own. “Jus’ let me do all the work, m’kay?”

Gojo wasn’t all too happy - and the sullen pout jutting on his spit-glossed lips told you more than enough. But he wasn’t going down without a fight - that was for sure.

“F-fine.” he grunts at a particularly harsh grind of your hips. Fuck, he felt like some animal, humping up into you like he was out of control. He could practically feel your puffed-up pussy lips through his pants, he could almost taste it. Two rough hands come to rest on your hips, grabbing and kneading a handful of your ass. “But then you’re not just hah- sitting there, pretty.”

And, shit, even like this, you should’ve known better than to underestimate Gojo Satoru himself. Because whatever he wanted, he got. The one thing he didn’t was you - and now, since he had you, too, fuck- he might just be going insane.

Not a moment’s wasted before you’re being so easily hauled up, up, up the entire expanse of Gojo’s body. Jittery body being balanced easily as if you were some type of toy, up from the slender curve of his toned hips, up around where his broad deltoids were spread, all the way until your cunt was hovering over his needy mouth. “Can’t believe I hngh- almost died without havin’ a taste of this pretty pussy.”

“Toru.”

“Sweetheart.” he mocks.

You shiver with each feverish puff of hot breath blown right onto your clothed cunt. And even more so when you’re feeling such a long, slender finger slide in through the translucent fabric.

Fuck, Gojo swallows thickly, bunching up your skirt. You were so sopping wet he could almost see the outline of his index through your panties. He slides the back of it slowly up and down. Heavy balls squeezing painfully at the volume of your saturated slick collecting on his digit, just trailing glossily down to his deft wrist.

Mesmerized, your jaw falls slack at the sight down below of Gojo - cloudy hair mussed, cheeks all pink and burning a blushing rouge, tongue darting out to catch each stray drop of your sweet sweet juices. Drip! Drip! Drip!

“Oh- sh-shiiit-” he rasps, lowly, mulling over your honeyed taste. Sounding so awed, breath hitching when Gojo tugs your panties just enough to the side to catch a mere glimpse of your messy cunt. Glistening and winking down lewdly at him. “S’jus’ you n’ me right now, huh?”

You don’t know who exactly he’s talking to - and you don’t get to find out, because that’s all it takes for Gojo’s kiss-bitten lips to clash messily against your cunt - panties and all.

A soft swipe of his tongue glides the fabric to the side, so depraved, so needy that for that split-second he’s tasting you, he can’t even think of removing it. One taste of your sweetened pussy and he can’t even bear the thought of breaking apart, licking up in long, languid stripes that wet the very front of your swollen folds.

Just the taste of you had him palming desperately at the tent in his pants, rubbing up and down at a pace that matched his rummaging tongue.

The very edge of your tastebuds rub so deliciously in teasing circles around the corners of your dripping silt, your inner thighs.

“S-s’toru-” you’re letting out such throaty, dragged-out groans that send every drop of blood in Gojo’s body thumping to his achy cock. “Don’t be such a- a tease.”

You’re locking your glassy eyes with him and he feels like he could pass out. Groaning and smacking into your cunt, “Tell me- fuck fuck fuck- tell me what you want, sweetheart. Anything.” Your entire body arches into his hot mouth like such a slut, when he bullies between your folds. Barely flicking against the sensitive nub of your clit. “Everything. Anything for you.”

When you’re weaving your fingers deliriously through his silky soft strands, he babbles, “Oh fuck- yeah, pull on my hair.” One of his hands come down to grip onto your panties, pulling the fabric so that you revel in the filthy friction. “Use me while you ride m’face, okay?”

With that, his mouth is sagging open even further letting your thighs straddle the entirety of his face so easily. So close. So messy how he was carding his tongue from the very base of your pussy, up into your quivering entrance.

“Fuck–” you’re whining, grinding into his touch when he wraps his soft lips around your clit. Barely even easing you with syrupy, wet circles of his heated tongue before sucking. Harsh. Depraved. But so, so him. “Don’- don’ stop, feels too good–!”

You didn’t know if he heard you, fuck you didn’t even know if Gojo was even breathing.

Even if he wanted to stop - he didn’t think he could. Because he was so ravenous between your legs, forcing your pliant body into such smooth gyrations on his tongue. Silken, soft, such sultry licks of his tongue on your clit.

Electricity sparks behind your eyes when with a wet slurp! he smacks away from your pretty pussy, “You think- you think I can stop?” And he sounds so genuinely in disbelief, as if the very thought of it was appalling. Through heavy, lingering kisses and sucks onto your clit, Gojo’s managing to get out, “I can’t have enough. Fuck- please.” The very rounded pads of his fingers dig so bruisingly into the flesh of your ass, jiggling and kneading with every drag of your hips. He’s begging at this point, “Fuck yourself on my face. Rougher, faster, c’mon now. You can do it, my sweetheart.”

He was so fucking desperate, big fat tears almost welling in his eyes while he whined underneath you. Groping so obscenely at his sweltering hot erection. How could you not listen?

“If you say so.”

Using the vice-like grip on his locks, you’re managing to leverage your motions even deeper. Rougher, like he’d wanted. Every protesting creak of the bedpost was accompanied by a synchronized whimpering of ah! ah! ah! coming from both your mouths.

“S’it good?” he gasps, and all you could see was the flushed upper half of his features. And the lower half - fuck, though the peaks and cracks you could make out just how glisteningly wet it was with all of your messy cunt. His lips were just drenched, slick-soaked mouth making out harshly with your pussy through your panties. Trailing all the way down in a glossy sheen over the lower half of his face, dripping off his chin, fuck- up to his cheekbones-

As if that wasn’t enough, the massive palm resting at your thigh comes dancing down to tease around your sopping wet entrance.

If you were in the right state of mind, you could’ve sworn that you heard a sharp rip! coming from that poor tattered fabric of your underwear right then and there.

“Tell me- fuck fuck fuck- use that pretty voice of yours please.” Still suckling lewdly on your clit, his cheeks hollow out . Entire body just jolting upwards, forcing you to press down harder with your motions. “Use me. Use me.”

“S-so–” you mewl when his slender fingers bully easily past that first ring of muscle. So many cold inches of his digits, feeling around determinedly inside your heated, gummy walls for those sweet spots that will make you whine. “So loud, Toru-” you’re spitting, meshing his mouth even harder with yours down below. And you can practically feel him smirk against your cunt. “For someone that wants this s-so hngh! bad you sure are-”

There.

Right there.

Gojo Satoru had just crashed into the spongy cavern of your g-spot - easily, at that. And there was such a crazed, sloppy sting to each of his movements. Smashing in over and over-

“Heh…tha’s how I l-like it.” he’s spying up at your trembly thighs, the way his overworked lips were being coated with a fresh wave of our honeyed slick with each passing second. “Good girl- gooood fuckin’ girl–”

Hazily, you’re wondering whether it doesn’t hurt. Whether his weepy cock ached just as badly as it looked, how his tongue isn’t fucking cramping up by now.

But he goes on - like he couldn’t stop, like he was out of control. A greedy little push and pull, dragging his tongue all over until you saw flashes of white. Until you could only scream out his name like a mantra. Until you were cumming.

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck- Toru!” your slurring out a mile a minute. Both of your hands now steadfast on his head, riding out your high all over Gojo’s pretty, pretty face. And he let you - fuck, he let you. “M’cumming- shit, feel so good. M’cumming-”

So good, so filthy that it made your toes curl, your hips stutter sloppily. Arching like such a slut, you could barely even see properly. Your breath was coming out in such labored heaves at this point, and Gojo wasn’t any better.

It was like he couldn’t stop, happily drinking up every single, sticky drop your cunt had to offer. Pussydrunken eyes drooping shut, unable to let out anything but satisfied grunts. The muscle of his tongue is just frenzied in eager slips and slides along your cunt - absolutely no rhythm or method right now. Sucking, licking, biting anywhere he could possibly reach.

“F-fuck–” you’re crying out tearily once the very peak of your orgasm fades, and all that’s left are a few overstimulated tingles being wrenched out by a greedy Gojo. “Toru, m’done.” You tug desperately on his hair - but even that doesn’t bate him the slightest bit. “S’getting too much- fuck-”

“Awww, too much for my girl?” he’s cooing, the words jumbling together in his drunken state. There’s a glossy mess of spit and slick drooling down the corners of his smirk. “Does this cute cunt of yours need a break?”

At your barely-lucid nod, it only grows wider. Smugger. “Too bad-” And Gojo’s just taunting you with a final, long lick up the very core of your pussy, “Because if I almost hah- died without her once, then you best believe m’gonna c-crawl back from death for ya each and every single time.”

It takes his strong arms - even bruised and battered through battle - only two whole seconds to plop you back down prettily onto his lap. Right over where his angry cock was just weeping for attention. And suddenly, it hurts without you. “So you’re not getting a break anytime soon. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Ha ha.” You’re rolling your eyes, “Very funny.”

“Mhm.” Gojo looks up at you through his white lashes, and you can only watch when he brings up his syrupy-sweet, glossy fingers up to his mouth. One by one. Sucking. Slowly, looking right into your eyes. It makes your mouth just salivate. “Got that right.”

The sheets billow behind you when you’re fumbling deftly with his shirt, all but ripping - tearing that stupid thing off of his form. Your skirt and top are soon to follow - his jaw clenches with the slight strain, leaving it in poor tatters on the floor.

“Shit- shit you’ve been-” his mouth just waters when your tits are released from your bra. Jiggling tantalizingly in his face in a way that makes him bury into it. “-been holding out on me.”

“Oh-” you let out, traitorously, at the first sight of each curve and divot along his milky sculpted body. Gojo Satoru was serious about dressing up like Toji, and no matter how much his t-shirt looked so sinfully painted on - actually seeing it was something else. “You’re so pretty, Toru.” You smooth your palms down his large shoulders, the faint scars between his pecs, his abs - that scar. Stark and large, Shoko had done her best work, but it still looked so painful. It must feel so, too, being sewn back together like some ragdoll. He catches the way your expression dampers - of course, he does. “Toru…”

Gojo winces when your fingers glide over that jagged scar. But if that was pain, then it was absolutely nothing compared to the pure, unadulterated fear when you abruptly pull your hands away.

“S-sorry- I didn’t mean to-”

“No!” he cuts you off, wrapping his long fingers around your wrist. All but dragging it - right along with you - to his still-healing body. “Touch me. Hurts more when you don’t.”

You’re batting your lashes up at him in a way that makes his heart stutter, and his poor, angry cock twitch. “Hurts me when you lie.”

“M’not lying, see?” With a low nod of his head, he’s gesturing you to look down - where it was unmissable.

Because straddled right in-between your pussy lips was Gojo’s erect cock - proud and so prominent, even through his pants. With the sheer girth bulging upwards you could feel your greedy pussy dampen over the cloth in anticipation.

“Well…” He’s throwing his head back when you knead your palm over the very end of his print, “I can’t quite see-”

Gojo takes the hint - and you have to bite your lip from teasing that it was quite possibly the only hint you’d thrown his way that he’d actually understood. But it was so hard to - not when he was this eager.

And, on those long, lonely nights, you’d imagined that your best friend would be suave, infinitely collected with things like this.

But, no, he was fumbling and jittery with his movements. So needy to please you that it takes you to help him pull down his tight, sticky boxers over the curving muscle of his thighs.

“O-oh fuck–” you breathe out, when he finally springs out. Sweeping up and down each and every long, thick inch of him - Gojo was as hard as if he was carved out of fucking diamond. Such a furious, rosy red at his leaky tip, glistening down, down, down into the most mouth-watering shade of creamy pink at his thick hilt. He was so big. Your thighs squeeze together in sultry need - with a slight tinge of fear. So unfairly pretty - even like this. “You’re- you’re so much bigger than I’d imagined, Toru.”

No sooner are the words out of your mouth that you’re being flashed with his dark smirk once more, “You imagined this?” There’s a slight reverence to his voice, scared.

It almost makes you shy - and Gojo can practically sense the waves of embarrassment rolling off of you.

“Awww, come back to me, please, pretty- Please-” he purrs, cupping your cheeks. “I came hah- back, didn’t I?” You’re being jostled to and fro when he rests himself more comfortably on the bed, leaning back to admire you further. “And now-” Your breath hitches in your throat when he situates himself right in-between your thighs, the fat curve of his head so swelteringly kissing your folds. Drenching it in his thick precum, “-now m’never gonna let ya go.”

Fuck, you know you should heave in a few gasps of hair, you know you should relax, maybe even stretch your legs wide open.

Because Gojo was so fucking big, it felt like he was splitting you from the inside out. Just the slight push of his tip bullying between your folds has you moaning - crying.

“You- you’re so big-” Your nails dig into the plush of his pecs for stability, leaving neat crescent patterns that stand out redly. “S’like you’re reaching into my hngh- l-lungs-”

Just those words have him expanding even deeper, ruddying even more furiously. Gojo gets so much bigger that you just can’t help but sink yourself down his shaft, feeling your elastic walls contort so easily around his length.

“H-heh– ohhh-” he breathes out - baritone voice lilting a few pitches higher than usual. The hands around your waist grab you even harsher, feeding you each inch by fucking inch of his fat, pulsing cock. “You got me- so–” His hips thrust upwards in mindless little jabs, “-fucked up, right now, sweetheart.”

And while all you can do is whine and moan around his unforgiving cock, Gojo babbles on, “B-better get ready ngh- because I’m gonna be riiiight-” His thick index draws and invisible line up, up, up to somewhere midway up your stomach. Before pressing down. Brandingly. “-here.”

The pressure is enough to have your hips just slamming down with a wet smack! all the way to his hilt. The slap of skin-on-skin rings through the heady air and into both your drunken brains, making him just throw his head back into the plush pillows.

“Yes-” you’re keening, your fingers wrapping subconsciously around Gojo’s pretty throat to have him facing you once more. He was so gorgeous this way - blue eyes falling shut with pleasure, mouth bitten raw and parted into a soft oh! pale muscles twitching with each breath. So fucked-out already that it almost made you think the sight alone could have you cumming. “Look at me, Toru- hah- gonna make up for lost time, right? Gonna fuck me good?”

His answering nods are more than enough, but Gojo doesn’t just stop there - no, he’s putting in every bit of last strength he has to just hammer into you upwards. Meeting every one of your relentless bounces down on him, he just clashes into your ravaged g-spot.

“Oh yeah, my girl.” he spits, a twinkling trail of drool dripping down the side of his lips. Crushing you so tight to his hardened front, “Ride me- ride me jus’ like that. Fuck- thought I saw heaven on the battlefield but it might jus’ be this pussy-” Over and over.

The back of your hand ends up on his forehead, “I think you’ve got a concussion.” It was in every little touch - that “something stupid.”

At your surprised giggles, he’s rummaging your insides even more ferociously. Smushing the very end of his thick head against your spongy cervix. It was so soft, so swelteringly hot having him inside you. Clashing in long, wet glides against every inch of your pussy.

The stretch was dizzying - and if it hadn’t been for Gojo’s lips attacking yours, then you’d have let your head loll backwards. It’s like he was marking you from the inside out, bruising the plushy insides of your cunt to every ridge and thumping vein down his possessive cock.

“Spit on me.”

His sudden plea puffs out of his plump lips, startling you out of your cockdrunk little reverie. “Spit on me, please, pretty. Mmpf-”

Gojo whimpers - whimpers - when the thick wad of your saliva hits his pink tongue, and the action has him delving into you impossibly deeper. Planting two feet onto the mattress, he angles his hips into your tight channel even harsher. Grimacing at the slight twinge of pain, “Shit-”

“Toru–”

“Wait wait- please- let me-” Expectedly, he’s cutting you off frantically. Begging, pleading with everything he had before activating reversed curse technique more. “Wanna fuck this gorgeous cunt so bad- fuck fuck fuck-”

But you’re only grinding your hips down faster - all the way from the pretty pink tip of his cock, until your ass massages against his tight, cum-filled balls. Thwacking! against your skin deliciously, pushing you up to scratch your clit against his snowy pubes.

A few more unapologetic kisses up against your sweet spots have you blinking back stars, “Toru–” Your swiveling motions have him so hypnotized, following every move where his massive cock was disappearing in and out of your snug hole. “Kiss me-”

Oh, you didn’t even have to ask.

It’s such a sloppy kiss - all teeth and lips and Gojo grunting gutturally into your mouth. Letting you just use him like your favorite toy, fucking him until the bed creaked with effort and Gojo’s balls just smacked! angrily.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispers. Drinking in your saccharine sweet gasps when he dips down one of his hands to your puffy clit, rolling the soft edge of his thumb in slow, methodical circles. “You’re gonna be the ah- d-death of me.”

Your hand around his throat tightens, making his eyes just roll back in ecstacy. “Better not die on me just y-yet, Toru. Not now, not tomorrow.”

For this, you’re being gifted with such a tight squeeze of his two fingers around your sensitive nub. Wracking your body forwards - exactly where he wanted you, exactly where he needed you to smash his sobbing tip into your g-spot.

The stimulation is too much, and each of your pressurized slams down onto the sharp bones on Gojo’s v-line have him moaning. Bucking up helplessly whenever your heavenly walls drag sloppily up his shaft, like it hurt to not have each and every one of his heated inches buried inside.

“Well- then-” You’re riding him now just as much as he was fucking up into you, leaving a damp puddle of slick and dredges of precum on the sheets below. Gojo’s punctuating each word with a harsh battering ram, “Better- cum f’me soon, huh? Because m’not gonna- fuck-” His nagging tip jolts into your sweet spots as if being zapped with white-hot electricity, in such a sloppy staccato with his feverish fingers. “-fuck I don’t think m’gonna last long.”

You’re nodding your head, clinging onto him like a second skin. “Mhm- m’so close, Toru.” Biting down wetly on his lower lip, “-gonna cum soon.”

Just the thought of it has him keening, stuttering up so messily. His precum coats your insides even more slippery slick, so heated in a way he thinks he might just explode.

“I know, I know, sweetheart–” he’s simpering down in your tone, though his hips were anything but. Letting out some of the lewdest slurps that made your ears ring. “I got you. I got you, cum all over my cock, yeah?”

It only takes a few more mess strokes from both of your sweat-sheened bodies before you finally reach your high. Electricity thrums down your veins, your body arches so deeply into his. Bending into the perfect bow that has him spying down at your quivering folds, the way your gushing cunt expands and contracts through each and every one of your waves of pleasure.

And he’s fucking you through it so filthy, fingers toying so erratically on your clit. Still reeling, still smashing the very divot of his cock into your bruised g-spot. Again and again.

“Ohh- fuuuck—” Gojo whines, eyes scrunching shut. Strained. Depraved. “Fuck fuck fuck me- please, please m’gonna-”

He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before he’s stuffing your snug pussy full with ribbon after ribbon of thick, velvety cum. Potent seed coating your gummy walls in such a milky sweet gloss, the squelches from below are so loud. So soppingly wet.

The hand at your waist moves down to where your poor cunt was just bulging with all inches of his spazzing cock. Gojo’s thumbing apart the corners of your slit just enough that his swelteringly hot cum oozes out of you in a slow trail. Sinful.

“Oh my god-” he breathes, eyes unwavering. Hips thrusting upwards to push his cum up into you even deeper. It glistens opaquely down his length, forming a creamy ring at his thick base. “Oh my god love you- fuck!”

“Toru- m’so full-” you whine. A hand of yours coming up to press exactly where he had before, except now you could feel the nudging pace of his ruthless cock, the sloshing of Gojo’s seed all up inside you. “-really can feel you right here.”

“Tha’s the point, girl - my girl, should I say.” he’s pressing such a chaste kiss to your lips. And it would be swee - almost - if it wasn’t for the way Gojo’s greedy fingers soak themselves in the obscene mess from your cunt down below. Bringing them all the way up, up, up to his mouth. Suckling gently, “But…but you wanna hear something stupid?”

Your eyes widen, “Wh-what?”

And he only grins, “I hope you know I love you, sweetheart. Because you sure as hell aren’t walking tomorrow.”

A/N. Can y’all tell I’ve been widowed not too long ago? Anyways, last post before kínktober! I tried posting this on Sunday but it refused to work so pray for me this time y’all *SOBS* <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

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kbwrites · 3 months ago

Text

Heated Waters

synopsis: being married is hard, being married without seeing each other is even harder.

⚝ content: Hiromi Higuruma x F! Reader, nsfw, bathtub sex, fingering, Hiromi neglects his wife, but boy does he make up for it

⚝ wc: 1.9k

“Yeah we do it pretty much every day.”

Satoru said, taking a leisurely sip of his water. His pale face alight with mischief, a shit-eating grin across his lips. His three coworkers stared at him in (jealousy) disbelief.

Suguru was the first to break the silence, wanting to save face “Everyday is a bit much, isn’t it, Satoru?”

Satoru chuckled, his blue eyes glinting with amusement as he watched his friend squirm. "What about you guys? How often do our married friends get it in?" His gaze flickered to Nanami, who cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses, his eyes fixed on the steam rising from his coffee cup.

“Twice a week, I suppose…”

Satoru's smile widened, clearly entertained by the responses he was drawing out. He then turned his attention to the oldest among them, Hiromi Higuruma, who was carefully straightening his tie, a subtle attempt to avoid eye contact.

“What about you, Higuruma?”

“Your wife, (Y/N) is a little younger than you, right? C’mon Higuruma-San…She a total freak?” Satoru teased.

Hiromi's jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation crossing his features as his grip on his coffee cup tightened. He took a slow, measured breath, his voice strained but controlled when he finally spoke.

“Please don’t talk about my wife like that.”

But Satoru, ever the instigator, didn’t back down. “It’s just us guys riiggght? And I can’t lie Higuruma, you’re one lucky guy. (Y/N) is a catch.”

Nanami nodded in agreement, as did Suguru, though both seemed to sense the discomfort growing in Hiromi. The older man could only sigh, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the conversation.

It was true—you were everything he could have ever wanted in a partner. Beautiful, intelligent, kind-hearted—his perfect match. If heaven existed, Hiromi was certain you’d be the only one worthy of it.

But long nights in the office, and early mornings preparing for court would take a toll on any relationship. The truth was… Hiromi hadn’t touched you in over a month. By the time he came home—you were fast asleep, and weekends were spent running the mountain of errands you couldn’t get to during the week. You loved each other of course, but it was hard. A month without feeling the warmth of your husband's hands all over your skin was starting to weigh heavily on both of you.

“You don’t have to answer Higuruma-san..” Nanami chimed in, sensing his elder colleague’s discomfort.

“Over a month.” Hiromi exhaled, the truth slipping out before he could stop it.

The room fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in.

“WHAT?” Gojo audibly gasps. “Your wife looks like THAT and you haven’t f—”

Suguru swiftly cut him off with a well-placed elbow to the chest. “Satoru… leave Higuruma alone.” The long-haired male warns. “Still, that is surprising.”

“I know I know..” Higuruma pinches his bridge. He wanted nothing more than to have his wife under him… on top of him. But the endless stream of work kept him trapped in a cycle of exhaustion. “I’ve been so busy I can’t even remember the last time I actually spoke to her properly.”

Suguru offered an apologetic smile. “Sounds like you need a break.”

“Sounds like you need some puss—” Nanami quickly elbowed Satoru in the chest before he could finish his sentence.

Hiromi shook his head, letting out a dry chuckle as he ran a hand through his dark locks, clearly frustrated with himself. “I appreciate your concern, guys, but I don’t see how I can take a break right now. I have so much work to do, and I’m the only one who knows how to handle all of it.”

“Higuruma-San. Satoru will take care of the paperwork for you.” Nanami suggested with a deadpan expression.

“HUH?” Satoru blurted out, clearly caught off guard by the sudden assignment.

“Yeah,” Nanami continued, ignoring Satoru’s protest. “It’s not like he actually does any work around here anyway.”

Suguru smirked, nodding in agreement. “That’s true. You might as well make yourself useful, Satoru.”

Before Hiromi could protest, the trio moved in unison—Suguru grabbing Hiromi’s briefcase, Nanami steering him toward the door, and Satoru sighing dramatically as he resigned himself to the task.

“Are… are you boys sure about this? I don’t want to burden you–”

“Nonsense! Go home and take care of your wife!”

Hiromi placed his briefcase by the door, his tie feeling suddenly too tight around his neck. He loosened it with a sigh, running a hand through his hair as he glanced around. The familiar scent of home greeted him. It was comforting yet bittersweet, a reminder of all the moments he had missed. The living room was tidy, the soft hum of the dishwasher running in the kitchen. You had clearly been busy, taking care of the house as you always did, even when he wasn’t around.

“Honey?” Hiromi calls out to you, his voice echoing slightly in the stillness.

Frowning, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair before making his way down the hall. As he approached the bathroom, he noticed a faint light seeping out from under the door, accompanied by the sound of water gently lapping against the tub.

He hesitated for a moment, then slowly opened the door.

The sight that greeted him made his breath catch in his throat. There you were, reclining in the bathtub, your eyes closed, head resting on the edge as steam rose around you. The soft glow of candles illuminated the room, casting a warm, serene light over your features.

You looked so peaceful, so beautiful—that it almost hurt to look at you. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly as he took in the sight, but the guilt and longing only deepened. How long had it been since he’d taken the time to appreciate you like this? Since he’d been able to just… be with you?

You opened your eyes, gaze meeting your husband as he leaned against the door frame.

“Hiromi?” you murmured, your voice soft, almost questioning, as if unsure whether he was really there or just a figment of your imagination.

“Hey Honey…” his voice equally soft, as he took a tentative step closer. The warmth of the room seemed to wrap around him, melting away some of the day’s stress.

“You’re home early.” You muse, looking at him as you rested your arms on the tub. He doesn’t respond, just walks towards you with purposeful steps.

Hiromi stares down at you with half-lidded eyes.“The guys decided I need a break.” He paused, his breath hitching slightly as he continued, “Can I join you?” A playful smirk tugged at the corner of your lips.

“Only if you take off your clothes this time.”

A dry chuckle escaped his lips as he unbuttons his dress shirt, letting each article of clothing fall to the tile floor. As he finally sheds his boxers before settling behind you. You exhaled softly, the tension you’d been holding onto for weeks dissipating as you sank into your husband’s embrace.

Hiromi didn’t waste a moment, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck, placing lazy, lingering kisses along the curve where your shoulder met your throat. His breath was warm against your skin, his kisses slow and unhurried, as if savoring every second, every inch of you.

His hands weren’t idle either, tracing gentle patterns along your stomach, moving upwards to cup your breasts with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. He nipped lightly at your earlobe, his voice a husky murmur, “I’ve missed you… more than you know.”

“Missed you too ‘Romi..” Your voice trembling as the almost foreign heat began to pool in your core.

Deft fingers teased your nipples, rolling and pinching—eliciting a soft moan from your lips as your body arched into his touch. Your hand reached back, tangling in his dark locks, pulling him closer as his lips traveled down to your shoulder, his other hand snaking under the water to your aching cunt.

“ahhhh… s-shitt..” You cry out as Hiromi’s fingers slowly circle your swollen bud. His touch light, teasing.

“Thirty-two days… I’m so sorry m’love.” He mumbles into your shoulder as he slips a slender digit into your entrance. Your walls flutter immediately around the intrusion, as he gently pumped into you.

He adds another finger, curling up to the spot he had neglected all those weeks. He extended his thumb to rub your clit. You arch your back against him, feeling his cock twitch against your ass.

“Hiro…” you moan, reaching behind for him, but he bites down lightly on your shoulder.

“Not yet, pretty girl, want you t’cum first okay?”

He whispers as he feels your gummy walls clench around him.

He speeds up his ministrations, digits stuffing your cunt as your pussy throbs and squelches. Your whimpers echo around the tiled walls, water lapping around your bodies.

You feel the pressure building as each thrust of his long fingers brush against your g-spot.

“g-gonna cum!”

“Cum f’me sweetheart please—god… need it so bad.” Hiromi mumbles as he pumps even faster.

“a-ahh!” you cry as you reach your high, walls clenching as you cum on your husband’s hand. He removes his fingers from you, moving to gently circle your clit as you come down from your orgasm.

You both stay there for a moment, your heavy breathing the only sound occupying the space, mingling with the gentle slosh of water against the porcelain tub. Hiromi’s arms wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you closer.

Slowly, he lifted you, the warm water swirling around you both as he maneuvered you to face him, settling you on his lap. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your knees pressing against the cool sides of the tub.

You straddled Hiromi, your bodies now fully aligned, chest to chest. Your husband's dark, half-lidded eyes bore into yours, his expression a mixture of raw need and unspoken tenderness. He let his hands rest on your waist for a moment, thumbs tracing gentle circles against your damp skin as he took in the sight of you.

“I don’t know how I’ve stayed away from you for so long…” his voice breaking slightly as if the admission pained him.

Your breath hitched as you shifted slightly in his lap, feeling the tension between you intensify. Hiromi’s hands slid up your sides, his touch deliberate and slow, leaving a trail of heat in their wake as his lips finally found yours. The kiss was deep, full of hunger that had been simmering between you both for far too long.

His grip on your waist tightened as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a dance that left you dizzy with need.

Breaking the kiss, Hiromi leaned his forehead against yours, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

“I won’t make that mistake again.”

Without a word, he rose from the tub, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. Water cascaded down your bodies, pooling at your feet as he carried you toward the bedroom, his lips trailing wet kisses down the side of your neck.

He laid you gently onto the bed, your back sinking into the soft silken sheets, but Hiromi didn’t waste any time. His gaze darkening as he climbed over you, his body hovering just above yours, his eyes drinking you in like a man starved.

“I’m going to make up for every second I’ve missed.”

#kbwrites #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #higuruma hiromi #higuruma x reader #higuruma smut #jjk smut #jjk higuruma #hiromi x reader #hiromi x y/n

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your-internet-bf · 5 months ago

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It's been a while since you've seen a doctor, and you're nervous as you follow the nurse back to my office. What's there to be nervous about, this is just a little checkup, right? You notice the nurse's manicured burgundy nails as she knocks sharply on the door. She turns to you, smiling prettily, and says, "the doctor will see you now."

You push open the door and enter quite a large room. The nurse follows, closing the door behind you. In the center is the examination table, off to the right is a small crowd of young adults, appearing to be made up of men and women, and on the left is me, seated at my desk. "Welcome," I say, standing and extending one hand. My voice is deep, warm, and smooth, and you fumble for a moment, blushing a little, before you remember to shake my hand. Your hand is dwarfed in mine, my strong fingers encircling you, and a thought flashes unbidden through your mind - what would those fingers feel like inside you? - but, come on now, that's really not appropriate...

"I have a few students with me, as you can see. Is that alright?"

"Well, yes, of course!" Why shouldn't it be?

"Excellent. Now, I'm pioneering this new full-body examination method - it's really quite extraordinary, the maladies I can detect this way - but be warned, it is, shall we say, unorthodox. Is that alright?"

Just for a moment, you see something in my eyes, something behind the genial smile and gentle, reassuring tone. Just for a moment, you feel like some specimen, some piece of meat, pinned down under the lights with nowhere to go... but just for a moment. Surely, nothing bad can happen, and I'm a doctor, aren't I? You can trust me. So you swallow your fear, and you acquiesce.

"Excellent! Let's have a seat on the table, if you don't mind, and we'll make a start. Nurse V, if you would..."

As you sit on the table, the clinical, sterile seating a little cold against your skin, the pretty nurse steps behind the table, facing you, waiting for something. From your right, I approach, and you feel again just how much larger than you I am as my broad shoulders block out one of the ceiling lights. With all these people watching you, it takes all you have not to squeeze your legs together, just a little bit.

We begin with a quick examination of your face - "you have beautiful eyes, you know," I purr into one ear. I place one hand on the side of your neck and tilt your head; god, you've been reading too much, haven't you, the way you want these strong, expert fingers to close around your throat.

"Now, open your mouth for me, please." You oblige, and I cup your chin and slide my thumb into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. Your eyebrows jump in surprise, and you look at me questioningly.

I smile again, still inside you. "Unorthodox, remember? Now, close your mouth and try to swallow." From behind, the nurse strokes your cheek with the back of one hand, and you feel a sudden ache between your legs. You close your lips around my thumb and swallow. It tastes... clean, mostly, as one might expect from a doctor, but you can taste the sweat underneath.

"Very good, one more time for me."

You swallow again, and you feel me slide my thumb over the surface of your tongue, pressing down, swirling in circles.

"And, one more time... yes, that's it, good job, very good job."

The praise for this degrading task is more than you can bear, and you squeeze your thighs together. Fuck, it's humiliating, everyone just saw you do that... All these eyes on you, the beautiful nurse behind you, this big, strong doctor with these big, strong hands and that big fucking bulge... but no, this is just a checkup, nothing is going to happen, right?

While you were thinking, I dried my hand off and had begun speaking.

"I'm - I'm sorry?"

"No worries. I was saying, can you remove your top, please? We need to examine your heart and your breathing."

You stare at me. "Remove my - "

"Yes, remove your top. The fewer barriers between me and you, the less interference with my examination." My face is quite serious, almost bored - this really must be routine. You look back at the nurse, and she smiles slightly and nods. So you undress, your nipples betraying you, standing at attention. You blush as the crowd of students looks at you intently. The nurse lays one warm hand on your shoulder, slender fingers gripping you reassuringly, and your eyes are drawn once more to those burgundy nails.

I step in close, and you feel my breath warm on your chest. "Now, observe the stiffness in the patient's nipples - this is to be expected, given the cool air, and it's certainly nothing to be ashamed of," I say, smiling. I press my stethoscope up over your heart, the metal cold on your skin, and your mind is betrayed by the pounding of your heart. My eyes flick up to meet yours, and I grin, predatorily, and once again you feel like a piece of meat beneath the lights.

I examine your breasts, starting with your left. Enclosed in my big, strong hands, I squeeze and push, prod and pull, ostensibly feeling for any abnormalities, but the way my fingers brush over your nipples, the intensity with which I sink them into your soft breasts, heaving now as your breath comes faster... My practiced tongue rasps over one nipple and a tiny moan escapes your lips as you try desperately to hide how much you're enjoying this; try desperately, and fail.

Abruptly, I pull back. "Excellent! All seems well here." I rest one hand on your other shoulder and turn to the students. "Note the pleasure response during this section of the examination, and I hope you were paying attention to the oral technique."

I turn back to you, my eyes dancing as they meet yours. "Fully undress, if you would. The inspection must continue."

Your hands tremble as you slide your clothes down off your waist, and the nurse aids you, her lovely hands stroking along your thighs and calves as she does.

"And spread for us, please."

Obediently, your thighs open, exposing your cunt, your needy, aching wetness, to all.

"Note the beauty of the patient's sex, here. The shape of the folds," I murmur, tracing one finger along your sensitive lips, "the balanced ratio of the clitoris to the vulva overall," sliding two fingers on either side of your clit, squeezing gently between them, "the appropriate pleasure response in - "

You lose what I say as I plunge two fingers inside you, powerful and dextrous, knuckles slipping past your tightness easily. It feels so fucking good to finally have something inside you, after all this aching and teasing, and god, so many people are watching, they're all watching your pussy spread and toyed with by this big, strong, handsome older man, and now the nurse's slender fingers are across your throat and her lips are on your forehead, and she tells you that you're doing so well for me, you've been so good...

My fingers press up inside you, finding your g spot, and with my thumb rubbing on your clit, I start melting you. Waves of pleasure course through your body, you gasp, moan, whimper, and with your eyes closed you can't tell whose lips are so soft on yours, but it feels so fucking good, and all those people are watching and it makes you want it more, your back arching, chest heaving, melting under the attention, and finally, mercifully, you cum, contracting around my fingers, squeezing your thighs together, trembling, shaking, gasping for air. You hear me say something, but you're so overwhelmed with pleasure that all you can make out from my speech is "very, very good".

The hand withdraws from your throat, and I gently, gently, extricate my fingers, and settle my hand atop one thigh, fingers slick with your desire.

The nurse whispers affirmation in your ear as I address the class. "Stimulation in this manner, of the two most sensitive sex stimuli, brings the most consistent and powerful orgasms to those possessing these organs." I stroke the inside of your thigh reassuringly, before turning to you.

"The final part of this examination is seeing how well you handle penetration. I'm going to need your unequivocal verbal consent before proceeding."

The nurse leans in and whispers into your ear, "might I suggest 'please, sir, will you fuck me?'" You'd blush harder if you could.

You swallow, nervously, and there's a twisting in your gut as you say it. "Please," you begin, voice cracking. "Please, sir, will you fuck me?"

"Yes, that is sufficient. I must say, though," I warn, unzipping my jeans, "that I am quite large." I slap my cock down on your tummy, and the sheer weight of it shocks you. You've seen size like this in porn, sure, but fuck, you've never touched something like this. When you tear your gaze away from my cock, I'm grinning down at you, predatory again. "You can back out at any time, you know." My voice is low, teasing, challenging. "Should we continue?"

You nod shakily, and spread your legs a little wider.

One hand on your raised knee, one hand guiding my cock, I push against you. For a moment you realize the exam had to be done in this order; if you weren't so fucking wet, there's no chance you'd be able to take me. But all thoughts are blasted out of your mind as I push harder and slide in.

It's so fucking thick that you can't help but groan. You've never felt so full, so strained inside, being pushed in every direction; you're not built for this, maybe there's just too much, your body is rejecting me - and then I push again, another few inches, and you slam your head back against the padded table, a long, drawn-out "fuuuuuck" wrenched from your lips. You feel my strong hands brace at your hips, and with a final thrust, slamming your cervix up into your guts, moving your entire body, the ridges of my cock sliding deeper and deeper, sliding painfully, pleasurably past your walls, I'm inside you.

The nurse rests her hands on you again, and purrs in your ear, "you're doing so well for him, I know it's hard, it's so hard, but you're doing such a good job, pretty girl..."

Glacially, I pull out, allowing you a moment to rest, before thrusting in again, hands still at your waist. You sob once, loudly, and then you sink into it as I pick up a rhythm, deep, deep strokes inside you. You hear me grunting, whispering something, and I grow more frantic, impaling you a little harder, and through the wall of pleasure you hear me rumble, "nurse V, begin the overstimulation procedure."

"Certainly, doctor." She leans over you, lips fiercely meeting yours, and one of those slender hands reaches down to abuse your clit. An image of those burgundy nails on your cunt flashes through your mind as I continue pounding you, forcing you to spread for me, adjust to me, even as the nurse plays your clit like an instrument, and fuck, she's a virtuoso.

You sing a song of moans and voiceless curses under our combined mastery, knowing your audience is entranced, filled with a blazing, lusty pride. The deep bass of my voice, resonant in your skull, is saying something, but you cannot hear me; you're moaning, groaning, pleading, "yes, yes, oh my god yes" over and over...

The song swells to a crescendo and with two sudden strikes, two powerful thrusts into you, it ends with a thick, hot, sticky white wave of my approval inside you. You feel it pulse deep, deep inside, filling you, load after load delivered straight past your bruised, abused cervix.

You come back to reality with my cum spilling from between your legs, trailing thickly down onto the exam table. I zip up my jeans while the nurse helps dry you off, from all the sweat and saliva. She dabs caringly at your mouth, and you notice that the cloth is dyed the same shade as her lipstick.

"Now," I address the class, "I hope you were paying attention." I rest one hand on your aching, trembling thigh. How many times did you cum with me inside you? How long were all these people watching you writhe beneath me, begging, losing yourself in the pleasure? You have no fucking clue. "This patient has bravely volunteered for each of you to examine her, here and now, while she's available to us."

Your jaw drops. When did you agree to that? You would never - but you were begging, "yes, yes, yes" earlier, weren't you, while I was talking. You agreed. Everyone heard you say it.

"One at a time, please. And," I say to you, grinning wolfishly, "don't worry. I'll be watching the entire time."

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liketolaugh-writes · 19 days ago

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I've been playing with a no-one-knows AU where Danny has been married to Jason for years but hasn't told him his secret. Jason knows that Danny isn't human, but hasn't pressed because Danny is so terrified when he approaches the topic. The Batfamily do not know.

Presently, the GIW are in Gotham and closing in, and the Box Ghost has come to Danny seeking help.

----

“You’re a ghost,” Jason said gently, pulling one of Danny’s hands away from his face to wrap it in his own. Danny let him. “Aren’t you?”

Danny’s breath hitched again.

Surprisingly, the Box Ghost looked almost as horrified as Danny.

“What? NO! I, the BOX GHOST, would not out Danny Fenton to his human family! For he is as human as I once was!” He flailed his arms in blatant panic. “There is nothing to reveal, for Danny Fenton is most certainly NOT a ghost!”

“What’s wrong with Danny being a ghost?” Box Lunch wanted to know, tilting her head up to peer up at her father in confusion. “Is it a secret?”

“BOX LUNCH!” the Box Ghost wailed, every inch a mortified parent.

“Yes, it was, or your father would not be so blatantly lying about it,” Damian told her, taking pity on the child ghost.

“Oh!” Box Lunch nodded seriously. “Danny isn’t a ghost!”

Danny let out a slightly hysterical laugh, and then started to cry, gasping quietly with tears pouring down his face, hunched down to hide from them. He didn’t pull his hand out of Jason’s.

“It is no longer a secret here, as it has become apparent,” Damian elaborated.

Box Lunch scrunched up her nose. “Oh.”

“Ghosts are not bad,” Cass said softly, “if ghosts are Danny.”

“Danny.” Jason scooted closer and pulled Danny against him, and Danny let him, pressing into him without unwinding at all. “Danny, I already knew. I’ve known for years.” Danny tilted his head up to give him an incredulous look, and Jason grinned at him. “You’re not good at hiding it, stardust. Your freckles glow when you’re excited and your eyes flash green when you’re frustrated. You walk through closed doors when you’re sleepy and things fall through your hands when people startle you. I’ve known you aren’t human since we moved in together.”

“…Oh,” Danny murmured, guilt and relief and wonder swirling together in his still-wet eyes.

“Phantom!” the Box Ghost scolded. Jason took note of the sudden change in address. “You are the worst secret keeper ever!”

“Shut up, Boxy,” Danny snapped. He pulled away from Jason and wiped his eyes, sniffling. Their hands stayed locked together. “We, we need to hide you and bitty-bite b-before we talk about this any more. I wasn’t joking about the Guys in White.”

The Box Ghost flapped his arms dismissively. “They will not find us! They are looking for YOU, and their instruments will not be prepared for such subtle spirits as Box Lunch and I!”

“They are looking for me while I am hiding,” Danny said, soft but barbed. He wiped his face again and turned around to better face the other ghost, glaring sharply. “Something I am well known to be very good at. Far better at than you.”

The Box Ghost went so pale he was almost translucent.

“You don’t look like a ghost at all,” Tim said, studying Danny. “Your skin is pink, you don’t glow… most of the time, no pointed ears or fangs. Your eyes are normal.” His eyes narrowed. “Is this… not your natural appearance?”

Danny flinched. “I… I…” He swallowed, staring at nothing, and then forced his attention back onto the Box Ghost. “Your base signatures are pretty low. If you stop using your powers and suppress your auras as much as you can, you can probably bring them low enough to hide.”

No answers would be forthcoming for now, Jason understood. He signaled sharply to Bruce and Tim, the most likely to try to interrupt. Wait. Time-sensitive, finish operation before proceeding.

Bruce didn’t look pleased, but he nodded sharply. Tim just watched, thoughtful eyes fixed on Danny. Damian was scowling, Dick frowning faintly, but Cass’ curiosity looked borderline idle. Jason watched Danny interact with the other ghost with a healthy blend of interest and concern, and tried not to wonder if Tim was right.

“Box Lunch, do you know how to land?” Danny asked. It seemed like a silly question until Box Lunch wrinkled her nose and cocked her head.

“Land?” she asked, audibly uncertain. For that matter, her father looked vaguely baffled too. “Like… with my feet? On the floor?”

Danny managed a smile and nodded. Box Lunch eyed the floor, then drifted down to hover at floor level. “Like this?”

“Not exactly,” Danny said, sounding more fond than anything. He slid off the bar stool and knelt down in front of Box Lunch. Jason couldn’t look away; he’d been deprived of any open knowledge of Danny’s nonhuman side for so long that his curiosity was damn near insatiable now. And Danny teaching a kid of his species? That was doing things to Jason. Good things. “Close your eyes.” Box Lunch did. “Feel the energy in the air. Do you feel gravity? Do you sense how it pulls things down?” She nodded uncertainly. “Hold onto that feeling. Let it hold onto you. Do you feel it?” Nod. “Good. Now- let go of the sky.”

The instructions didn’t make a lick of sense to Jason, but Box Lunch dropped right out of the air and landed on her feet. Her eyes flew open, and she pinwheeled dramatically until Danny caught her.

“Ahh!” she squealed, looking dismayed. “I’m heavy!”

Danny chuckled. “No, bitty-bite, you’re still light as a feather.” He picked Box Lunch up and held her out in front of him, smiling. She squealed again, kicking her feet, her eyes bright with delight. “Good job. Do you think you can hold that?”

“Um, sure,” she mumbled, not looking at all sure.

The Box Ghost landed on the floor with a grunt - Jason suspected that he’d been listening to Danny’s instructions too. He held out his arms for Box Lunch, and Danny handed her over willingly.

“Now what?” the Box Ghost asked tentatively, staring at the floor like it would eat him. Yeah, Jason could definitely believe that he’d never landed before either.

“Now, you listen to me,” Danny said seriously. He reached out and grabbed Box Ghost’s arm, demanding his attention, and forced eye contact. From the Box Ghost’s wide eyes, this behavior was as new to him as it was to Jason. But then Danny continued, speaking as firmly as if he were willing his words into existence. “You are not a ghost. You are not a ghost.” Understanding flickered across the Box Ghost’s face, and he screwed his eyes shut. His glow started to dim. “You are solid. You are heavy. You are warm. You are made of flesh, blood, and bone. You are not a ghost. You are not a ghost. You are human.”

The Box Ghost’s glow receded and disappeared. Except for his blue skin, he almost looked human now. He opened his eyes uncertainly, and Danny gave him a weary smile and a nod, letting go of his arm and leaning back.

“But what about Box Lunch?” the Box Ghost asked anxiously, looking down at Box Lunch. She’d squeezed her eyes shut to try and follow Danny’s instructions, but didn’t seem to be meeting with the same success.

Danny sighed. “I’m not sure how to explain it to her,” he admitted, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair as he looked at the little girl with worry. She opened her eyes and gave him an anxious look, and Danny gave her a small smile. “It’s not your fault, bitty-bite. It’s just… you’ve always been a ghost, so you don’t have your dad’s memories of what it felt like to be human.”

Box Lunch stomped her feet. “I can pretend!”

“Then pretend,” Danny said seriously. “It doesn’t have to be perfect. Just do your best.”

“Wehh!” Box Lunch flailed her arms, brow furrowed in concentration. “I am human! My body is super solid and I crash into things a lot! And I run around on the ground and eat human food! Fear me!”

It was so cute that Jason muffled a laugh, and he wasn’t the only one. Box Lunch ran a circle around the floor, then crashed into a wall on purpose and bounced off, giggling. Even Bruce’s hard expression softened into a fond look.

“That should keep you off the sensors,” Danny said to the Box Ghost, voice low. Something about his eyes looked exhausted. “Just make sure Box Lunch maintains it. Maybe keep playing human with her.”

The Box Ghost nodded uncertainly. “Thank you, Phantom,” he said quietly. “I know that we can count on you.”

#yes i am sharing this excerpt EXCLUSIVELY because of the box lunch bits #she's just very cute in this okay #dpxdc #danny fenton #jason todd #dead on main #box ghost #box lunch #my writing

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moongirl0305 · 6 months ago

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Don't hide this in the tags, omg!!

#I'm going to be annoying and say it depends on the theme of the episode. it depends what 'looking back' means within the context of #the spn mythos #which they would establish by talking to the still alive orpheus. who would be a white guy in a suit.#GOD an orpheus ep would be SO good #even with the covid and budget restraints like picture this:#we open and keep cutting back to Dean in the empty walking in the dark monologuing to Castiel #and we don't see Cas bc Dean is facing away from him and Dean doesn't even know if he's there bc he doesn't speak #explaining to him what's happening and what happened and - most importantly - how Dean feels #and we cut between Dean slowly breaking down into deeper and deeper topics the longer they walk #like starts off usual false-cheery trying to make the best of things Dean and then gets into #why he doesn't feel good enough for cas. why he loves him. how he breaks whenever cas dies. blah blah blah you know the good stuff.#and it's intercut with Sam (and Jack?) talking to Orpheus and maybe Charon or Persephone to establish context for what happens to Dean #and they have a fun and tense little side quest to convince them to let Dean and Cas out #and near the end of the episode. we're with Dean and he's like. 'i wish you'd just say something Cas.'#and then just before the commercial break he starts to hear. 'Dean.'#and Dean is like. I can't turn around. and Cas starts making pained noises and begging Dean to stop and it's all dialogue from other eps.#and dean is like. TREMBLING with the effort of not turning #intercut with dialogue from Orpheus telling Sam that the Empty tried to fool him with Erudice's voice. or at least. he hopes it was a trick #Dean is finally almost at the exit and he's like 'see cas just a bit further!!!!'#and Cas. has gone completely silent. Dean can't even hear footsteps behind him anymore.#and Dean is like. talking now pretty much just to himself.#'I need to have faith that you'll be there for me. because I may not believe in much but I believe in us. I believe in you.#'and you make me believe in me.'#(a little cheesy but fully sincere as most spn dramatic speeches are)#so he gets through. covers his eyes. waits for 10 seconds for cas to definitely have time to come through (a lesson from orpheus perhaps)#and the last thing we see is Dean pulling his hand away from his eyes and a beautiful look of relief. a single joyful man tear.#roll credits #<- PREV #OMG #Can you just apply to be the writer for this episode??? PLEASE???

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lxnarphase · 10 months ago

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━━ ❝ ah-ah, barbie, you're so fine! ❞

special treatment : thighs edition

☾₊‧⁺...ft. : kamo choso + itadori yuuji + higuruma hiromi + ryomen sukuna

☾₊‧⁺...cw : pussy eating, facesitting, somnophilia, dirty talk, fingerfucking, overstimulation, praise kink, degradation, desperation, oral fixation, squirting, creampie, choso being whiny, yuuji being a little shit, yuuji is 21yrs & a college student, hiromi being pussydrunk, sukuna being whipped

✧ k. choso : poor choso, ever since the first time he's gotten a taste of what's between your thighs, he's begging you every day just to eat your cunt. but today? today must be a bad day, because choso is desperate. his already between your thighs, whimpering and whining as he mouths at you through your underwear, tears in his eyes as he begs you to give him a little taste. once you do, his eyes are rolling back just from the first lick.

"you taste so good, fuck, so good, thank you, thank you, mmph, so delicious, i can't get enough." "can you cum again? i know it's been 4 times already, but please? please, please, pleaase, pretty thing, i need itttt..." "oh my goddd, you're cumming? yes, yes, cum on my tongue, pretty please, i'll fuck you so good after, just keep cumming, don't hold back." "stop-stop running away, i know your pretty pussy is all sensitive b-but i just, i can't stop...but you know you can say the safeword and i'll stop, right? ...what? you-you like being overstimulated...? fuck, fuck, okay, let me make you squirt on my tongue then i'll fuck you good, okay?"

✧ i. yuuji : yuuji's always been a smug little shit whenever it came to teasing you. what starts off with him tickling you and blowing raspberries into your stomach turns nto hot kisses against your stomach that let down to the waistband of your underwear as he pushes your shirt up higher on your body. he can't help but grin up at you when he notices the wet spot on your panties from his little kisses.

"d'awww, bunny, y'so cute! look at how wet you are. is that 'cus of me? ehehe, i know, i know, teasing is mean, but i can't help it...you're just so adorable." "y'know i can practically feel your heartbeat whenever i kiss it? mhm, i can feel that, pretty girl. don't cover your face, baby, you're so cute!" "your thighs are so soft. i could stay between here forever, fuck goin' to classes or missions, i'd rather just eat you out until you pass out." "open up these legs a little more, let me get my fingers in there...thereeee we go, such a pretty lil' bun, aren't you?" "you're so messy! did i do this to you? yeah? aww, my pretty girl likes meee! i felt how you squeezed on my fingers! so cute!

✧ h. hiromi : ever since you made a comment about his nose, saying 'doja is right about big noses' in passing to him, hiromi has been curious. curious enough to the point where he looks it up, seeing the video of said woman. so, you wanted to sit on his face and grind on his nose, hm? you've never sat on his face before but he was sure to change that.

"i don't care if you think i'll die, i want you to sit on my face. i'm giving you the chance to either have control of your pace or let me do what i want with you. so, what's your decision?" "see? it's not that bad, angel, you forget your husband isn't some weakling...now c'mon on, get yourself right over my mouth, let me taste you." "god, you're so beautiful like this. i need you on my face more often, you're dripping all over my mouth...such a good girl for me." "heh...i knew you said my nose was perfect for sitting on but i didn't realize it would get you this riled up. go ahead, sweet thing, you can keep grinding that clit on it...just like that, just let me make you feel good." "good lord, i never wanna leave between your thighs. so fucking sweet, shit, angel, you've got me wrapped around that pretty finger. c'mon, let me devour you all night, i'll let you get up when i'm done."

✧ r. sukuna : getting sukuna to lay on his back without him instantly taking control of the situation was easier than you thought. hell, even crawling up higher so that you were hovering over his face was too. but little did you know, sukuna was intrigued, liking the side of you where you would just take control of him, knowing that only you had the right to do that...especially if it meant he got to eat you until you soaked his face.

"you know i should kill you for thinking you can just sit on my face like i'm some kind of personal chair. i am the king of curses, not a piece of furniture...what? ...hm. i guess you do look...good over me like this." "...huh? sorry, i wasn't listening. when are you going to sit on my face? you keep blabbering, but i can see the way that sticky cunt is dripping for me. are you gonna just let it go to waste?" "oh. shit. you've been holdin' out on me, haven't you, diamond? shit, i can see all of you from down here...nah, keep grinding on my face, little one, use me for your pleasure...let me see you cum on my mouth." "such a fucking slut. my mouth is coated in your cum, but you still wanna keep going? my tongue that good for you?" "no, no, i'm not letting you back down until you beg, diamond. tell me how badly you want me to fuck your pussy with my tongue...hm. good enough."

#choso smut #itadori smut #higuruma smut #sukuna smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #choso x reader #choso x you #itadori x you #itadori x reader #higuruma x you #higuruma x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #kamo choso smut #itadori yuji smut #higuruma hiromi smut #ryomen sukuna smut #˗ˏˋ ★ lxnarworks .ᐟ

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nicholasgoodgirl · 2 months ago

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on set - nicholas chavez

summary: you came to bring nicholas food on set and he looks too good you gotta help him get off or maybe you're just doing it for yourself.

warning: oral (m receiving), almost caught ig.

a/n: i need this man bad 😩

i park my car and get the takeout my boyfriend asked me to get for him while he was on set.

i knocked on his trailer a few times then being met with him, Nicholas i can't lie he looked undeniably good.

a part of me feels bad because he's getting put into character for this role and i liked it. every bit of it.

the way his hair is styled, paired with the old money clothing. he was perfect. "you good?" not sure how long he was trying to get my attention but i just nod and walk into the trailer.

"you gonna be free tonight" i ask. Nicholas sits back down in the chair. "uh i don't think so" he checked the message he was given earlier this morning before coming to work

"yeah, no i won't be free why?" he asks giving me the perfect opportunity to perhaps get a quickie in before he has to actually get on screen again.

i walk up behind him, giving his shoulders a little massage then kissing his neck "I'd really liked if we could do something later" i try hinting to him that i wanted to fuck and im sure he caught on rather slowly than expected but he still did nonetheless.

"at work? what a needy girl" he coaxed. he took my hand in his and brung me infront of him.

nicholas manspreads his legs a bit so i can stand in between them "how bout you get that pretty little mouth to work then"

his cocky tone and the light pat on the side of my thigh; a signal for me to get on my knees sent my need for him through the roof.

i sunk to my knees not breaking eye contact. "this is what you wanted right?" he asked me with a smirk.

i give him a nod. but that wasn't enough for him he brings his thumb to my mouth dragging it across my lips "use your words baby" he cooed

"yeah- yes.. i want to do this." i fumble with his belt buckle, his eyes burning into my skull making me feel intimidated by his gaze.

i get the belt undone and pull his pants down, he lifts his hips a bit to help. "doin' so good already but-" he picks his phone up checking the time "-they're gonna need me in atleast 7 minutes" he places the phone back down.

his hard cock is freed from the confinement of his boxers. i put the head of his cock at my lips, kitty licking the tip before putting my mouth around him.

a low grunt is heard from him encouraging me to sink my mouth down further.

he grabs a handful of my hair and carelessly pushing my head down, i gag on his dick and im quick to remove my mouth off him "stoopp" i whine

"alright im sorry" he takes his hands away from my hair and puts them up surrendering.

a knock on the trailer door followed by a girl telling Nicholas he's needed on set. "5 more minutes!" he yells loud enough for the lady to hear from outside.

nicholas turns back to me and raises his eyebrows "see we don't have much time" he shrugs.

i wrap my mouth around him for the second time, already use to the length reaching the back of my throat.

he allows me to do whatever i please with my mouth; watching me take his length. i swallow around him and nearly choke when he accidentally jerks forward and thrusting down the back of my throat.

"shit.." nicholas drawls out throwing his head back at the feeling.

i change my pace, bobbing my head faster and using my hand to pump whatever i couldn't fit in my mouth. he whimpers softly, i looked up at him, his lips caught between his teeth, cheeks flushed and eyebrows knitted together while his eyes were screwed shut. perfect like i said before

"you're such a good girl f'me y'know that?" i hum in reaponse, the vibration around his cock made him moan loudly.

"sir are you ok?" the lady asked from outside; rattling the doorknob. "fine- just fine!" ,,give me one more minute please"

i swirl my tounge around his tip then using my hand to stroke him till he reaches his orgasm "m' close" he whimpers.

i put my mouth on the head of his cock and let him paint the back of my throat.

i wipe the sides of my mouth and rise from my knees while Nicholas pulls his underwear and pants back up. "lets finish up whenever i get home yeah?" he kisses my head and walks out the trailer.

#nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez smut #nicholas chavez #nicholas chavez x reader

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shadow4-1 · 4 months ago

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"Can you just pretend to love me tonight? Please?"

Simon's never gotten a request like this before.

He's never had any qualms about selling his body. Whether it was for his cock, units of his blood plasma, or his war honed body. He's always done what he's had to - anything to stay off the streets and keep a full belly.

The girls who've paid him always wanted a brute, someone to mount them and take them for all they were worth. That was what he was used to, not some doe-eyed sweet thing begging him to be gentle.

"I want to feel loved." You admit, leaning back on the motel bed, thighs crossed in nervousness. "I um...I know I'm not very pretty-"

Simon leans forward on his knees and kisses you gently. Well, he tries to. The tip of your teeth graze painfully together as he mouths you. You squeak beneath him, hands going up to his shoulders to try and push him off on rabbit instinct. He pulls his mouth off of you just enough to mutter an apology.

"Sorry." He swallows.

You look up at him with impeccably beautiful eyes brimming with tears. You seem to finally understand there's nothing gentle about him even when he tries to be. Simon wants you to call him off, send him out of the cheap hotel. He knows he can't be as sweet at you want - as you deserve. He's just physically not built for that. At least, he's sure of it nowadays. He has a brief memory of holding his newborn nephew but it slips away just as quickly as it came.

"Can we just...go slow?" You ask again. Simon can hear the waver in your voice. You're unsure if you want to continue, but you seem to trust him for some reason. "Really, really slow?"

"Yeah."

He can do slow. He can do glacial. If there's one thing he can do, it's be measured, methodical. He wasn't a Lieutenant for nothing.

For the first time in years, he takes his time. He's used to the fast paced, hungry fucks that pay his rent in thirty minutes. This is...new, not wholly uninvited. He kisses down your collarbone, down the swell of your breasts. He nips at the lacy fabric (you dressed up for him when he was expecting just to rip it all off) as he makes his way down further. He laps at the skin beneath your belly button, making your belly flutter. Ticklish. He likes that.

Simon noses his way between your thighs, easily spreads your legs with his thick forearms. As he kisses down your cloth covered mound he admits he likes how you smell. Usually the taste of women turns him off. He prefers men, but desperate women pay more. You're desperate alright, although its a different type of desperation. Something about the nervous wetness staining your new panties has his cock jumping in his trousers. He presses his nose to the fabric, inhales deeply, and relishes in your shy squeak. Simon starts to understand your desire.

You want to be explored, mapped, and consumed slowly. You want to give up control but feel as if you can stop at any moment. You want to be seen, tasted, then completely devoured.

Instead of slipping your panties to the side, he licks his way down your thighs. You squeal and try to squirm away from the sudden sensation but he doesn't stop. He kisses down your calves and across the top of your feet. His hands are so large that they wrap around your soles completely. Simon pushes them up until they're up by your ears. He knows the position is uncomfortable for you, but he likes the view of your soft, cloth covered mound.

He nips at the back of your ankles and calves, licks down the expanse of your thighs, ans nuzzles into the gusset of your panties. Simon relishes in the squeaks and gasps ans twitches of your expectant body. It's been so long since he's teased someone, much less a sweet lil' thing like you.

Your scent is heady, comforting, nothing like he's experienced before. He finds he really likes just inhaling you in. You whimper, thighs shaking already. He hasn't even licked you yet. Simon finally admits to himself that you're stroking his ego.

He plants a firm, sweet kiss to your cloth covered cunt. The fabric is practically soaked through. He can smell your taste on the tips of his lips. His curiosity wins. He takes a firm, long lick from bottom to top. Simon tastes you, but also the flowery tang of your favorite fabric softener. You taste good. He wants more.

Simon finally releases his hold on your thighs. On instinct, or perhaps strain, they fall apart. You try to sit up but he tugs your body further towards the edge of the bed. He can feel the tension in his old knees from kneeling, but he ignores it. You've opened up your body to him. He wants to take full advantage of it.

Simon goes back to lapping at your clothed cunt. He doesn't stop until his tongue is raw from brushing repeatedly over the stitches. Drool drips down his chin.

"Off."

You huff in confusion, trying to sit up. Instead. With too easy of a tug, off come your panties. There you are. Simon knows he should slow his movements but he doesn't care. You haven't stopped him yet, and he'll be damned if he doesn't get those sweet lips in his mouth. He spreads you apart with his middle and forefinger. You're a sight to behold. Perhaps not pornstar perfect anatomy, but you're delicious looking nonetheless. He eyes your glistening, dripping slit. As bad as he wants to force his tomgue deep inside you, instead he presses a firm kiss to the hood of your clit. You jolt, trying to back away or pull him closer, he can't tell.

Simon follows your movement. He mouths hungrily at your clit, flattens his tongue and practically drools against it. He laps at you with a muted fervor. He doesn't want to hurt you. He can tell you're sensitive. It must've been awhile since the last time you'd had a man willingly do this for you. A damn shame.

Your shaky little moans are like music to Simon's ears. He follows them like a map. He circles your clit, traces the entrance of your hood, even dips lower to tease the sides of your inner lips. You seem to like that alot based on the sounds you make. He sucks on your inner wings and you squeal, thighs wrapping hard around the sides of his head. He does it again and and again until you're hiccuping in delight. Your slick drips down his chin and throat. You're such a good girl for him.

Simon knows he's going to make you cum, it's just a matter of time and technique. He has both on his side. He uses his other hand to pet at your entrance. He tries to commit your anatomy to memory, and so he takes his time dipping the pads of his fingers against your fluttering slit. Despite it obviously having been awhile, your cunt holds no resistance. In fact, it practically swallows up the tip of his middle finger. Fuck yeah, that's what he likes to see.

With measured ease, Simon slips his whole finger inwards and upwards inside of you. You keen and gasp and he can feel your insides twitching. You're tight. So tight he can feel his finger already starting to cramp up from the resistance.

If he's going to fuck you right he's still got some work to do.

#call of duty #mw2 #cod imagines #mw2 headcanons #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #this was such a drabble #like i knew what i wanted to do with it and then it ended up just being old man simon oral sex #oh well i dont think anyones gonna really complain lol

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kissitbttr · 1 year ago

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flashing simon your titties in the middle of an argument

it’s the fourth time this week and he’s pretty much getting sick of your attitude.

whether it’s about the messy drawers, forgotten keys, not getting your fresh strawberries from the market and now, it’s about the new female recruit that seems to be enjoying flirting with your boyfriend and him not doing anything about it. of course you’re pissed! you’re allowed to.

“sweetheart” simon huffs out a sigh of annoyance, rubbing his hands all over his tired face. “for the fifth time… i wasn’t flirting with her”

a scoff escape your mouth. cocking one eyebrow while your arms are crossed over your chest. “i didn’t say you were. i said that bitch had her hands all over you and you didn’t do anything! she was batting her fake ass lashes at you too. jesus, her ass should got beat for that”

the sight of you getting pretty heated almost turned him on. almost. sure, you’re hot when you’re angry and usually he’d fuck you dumb to get that out of your system but this time? he’s far too exhausted.

“fuckin’ hell” he shakes his head in disbelief. “you know that’s not what happened. we were just talking.”

“i know what i saw-“

“don’t give me that!” simon exclaims, pointing his finger at you as he watches you give him a look of ‘oh you did not just do that’. “we were basically just talking, she was the new recruit. asking me about pointers.. and it was at the gala! what did you expect me to do?!”

you shrug casually, leaning against the kitchen counter. “poke her eyes with a fork”

“my god-“ he has to cut himself off before releasing a heavy sigh. eyes shutting briefly, head tilts to the back as he silently prays to whoever up there to give him enough strength to deal with you. “that would be illegal.”

“for you, maybe. i’d do it if you weren’t in my way.”

“that’s crazy” he answers, earning a look from you. “i didn’t say you are crazy! christ, woman!”

rolling your eyes, you huff. maybe you are overreacting but the thing is? you don’t want him to win. because in your head, you’re always right.

“so, what? you’re just going to let other female recruits feel you up too, huh? grab your biceps, twirl their hair when they look at you or maybe hey! you’d let them grab your dick too.”

“you’re unbelievable”

“me?! you are—“

“no! okay, you know what?! doll, i love you... i do so please never doubt me, yeah? but you can’t keep doing this, alright?! it’s not healthy! and if you—w-wait, what are you doing? wha-“

you lift your shirt up to flash him your naked breasts so he can shut up. and it worked. obviously. now, his eyes aren’t even looking at you but at his second favorite thing—after you— your lips stretch into a smirk when you see him freeze. jaw hanging open slightly.

“a-and you c-can’t” he gulps, becoming a stuttering mess as he struggles to maintain an eye contact. “c-can’t—like—just—fuck! this is unfair! what was i saying?!”

oh yeah, now you’re taking the W

did this once with my ex and got fucked lol

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley fluff #simon ghost riley

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alexiroflife · 5 months ago

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"first day"

fluff, happy fushiguro family, slice of life, megs' first day of school send-off

Synopsis: you've been dating toji for a while now and megumi subconsciously calls you mom for the first time on his way out the door

to sum it up: you adore the little family you've come to be a part of

WC: 1,701

Warning(s): none

"Megs!" you call out, standing by the front door awaiting the dark-haired boy's arrival. He soon shuffles around the corner from his room, throwing a bag over his shoulder with a tired expression on his face.

His father turns to watch him walk in, crossing his arms as he leans against the counter. "The hell were you doing in there that took you so long?"

"Nothing," Megumi grumbles, moving to brush past the two of you to rush to the door. "I just wanted to look presentable, that's all."

"So you took thirty minutes to get ready?" Toji quirks a brow.

"Believe it or not, dad, some would say that's not enough time to get ready in the morning."

"Not at all, actually," you agree.

Toji tugs the corner of his mouth in judgment. " Well, you should know," he says to you. "You spend at least ten years in the bathroom when we have somewhere to go."

You scoff, rolling your eyes. "That's such an overreaction. I never take any longer than an hour." Megumi and his father exchange knowing looks and you place your hand on your hip. "What?"

"Don't worry baby," Toji assures you. "It's okay to be in denial."

"We've timed it before. The last time we all went out to dinner as a family, you took two and a half hours to get dressed," Megumi adds.

"That's only because I had to shower and pick out an outfit then do my hair and makeup," you defend.

"Isn't that a little overkill? It takes me half that time to shower, get dressed, eat breakfast, and get some homework done."

"Whatever. Your sister would understand," you sigh.

"Unfortunately, she may be worse than you."

"Women," Toji tsks. You slap his bicep and he pretends to flinch, smirking down at you playfully. "Ouch."

"Alright, well, I'm ready now. I don't wanna be late," the sixteen year old says, turning back to reach for the door handle.

"Ah ah ah, wait!" you stop him. "You're not going anywhere without me getting a good look at you. Turn around, I wanna see how the uniform fits."

Megumi lowers his head and complies, turning back around stiffly for you to admire him. You press your hand to your lips to conceal your smile, eyes gleaming with pride as you look over the sharp navy jacket and pants he adorns.

"Awwww," you coo. "It fits perfectly! How does it feel?"

"Pretty good," Megumi nods, moving his arm around slightly to show his mobility in the fabric. "It's comfortable too. It shouldn't be a problem during missions."

"I still can't believe how quickly time has gone by," you muse. "You're already going into your first year at Jujutsu High! Are you excited?"

"You better be," Toji grunts. "Your uncle Gojo hasn't gotten off my ass about your enrollment for years. At least now, he'll finally shut up."

"I still don't understand why I have to have him as a teacher. He's such a moron, I doubt he'll teach us anything useful," Megumi mumbles.

"Moron or not, he's the strongest sorcerer of the modern age and he's helped out so much. I'm sure he'll be able to give you a good experience," you say positively.

"We talkin' about the same Gojo here? The one who trashed my house playing tag with Megumi and the dogs in the living room?" Toji points out and his son grits his teeth at the memory.

"Oh come on, Satoru was like twenty one back then. I can only imagine the crazy shit you've with the kids when you were raising them," you tease.

"You don't even want to know," Megumi exhales.

"Please, you came out just fine, didn’t ya?” Toji says, reaching out his hand to ruffle at Megumi's spiky hair. The teen recoils, craning his head away and shielding himself with his arm.

"Quit it. I'm not five anymore."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You're all grown up now, I know. Gonna be a first-grade sorcerer before I can even blink an eye."

"Who said that I would be first grade? I'm only a first year."

"Yeah, and look at who your pops is," Toji grins. "Plus, you got an advantage that I never had. You'll do just fine."

Megumi hums indifferently, doubting himself momentarily but accepting the words nonetheless. "Alright, are we ready?"

"No, not yet!" you pull out your phone quickly and open the camera. "I need to get pictures."

The blue-eyed boy slumps. "(Y/n), I gotta go."

"I know, I know, just a few," you promise, holding your camera up to capture his awkward figure in the frame. "Okay, smile."

Megumi doesn't, and of course you don't actually expect him to. Instead, he calmly stares at the camera with his arms at his sides, unsure of what to do with themselves. Toji moves to stand behind you, leaning down to take a peak at the million pictures you're snapping.

"Toji, go stand with him so I can get one with the both of you."

The two groan simultaneously. "Doll, can we just focus on gettin' the kid to school?"

"It's fine. His stuff is already moved into his dorm. We have time."

"But-"

"Shut up and go stand with your son, now," you glare firmly up at the green-eyed man and he huffs.

"Yes, ma'am."

Toji raises a hand to his hip and tilts his head boredly as he stands beside Megumi, the two of them sharing the exact same blank stare as they look into the camera. You squeal happily. "You two are so cuteee!"

"We done, now?"

"No, I wanna get one more with Megs, and then I'm good." The boys give you a look, but you wave them off. "I mean it! Gosh, here Toji. Take our picture."

Toji obliges, grabbing your phone from your hand as you rush over to the tall boy. His expression melts into serenity as you place your hands on his shoulders and lean your head against his arm, smiling widely at the camera as a hint of a smile touches Megumi's lips.

Toji's heart warms at the sight, watching the way his son grows comfortable in your presence. The picture of the two of you looks so natural t to him like you are meant to be a part of his family, which he knows you are.

He snaps the photo and nods. "Got it."

You exhale, turning to face Megumi. You brush your hands over his shoulders to straighten his jacket, ridding it of any lint and wrinkles. "Okay, Megumi, please remember to be safe."

"I know. I will," he nods.

"And don't be too reckless when it comes to training."

"I won't."

"And try to make friends. I know how easy it is for you to push others away."

"I'll try."

You press your lips together with a final sigh, looking over Megumi's face warmly. You wrap your arms safely around him into a hug, your emotions getting the best of you. You have spent the past year caring for Megumi like your own, and watching him head off to achieve his goals makes your heart swell with joy and fear all the same.

"Text me or your father or Tsumiki if you need anything. Anything at all," you tell him. He returns your hug gently.

"Okay," he chuckles lightly and you pull away. "Don't worry, I'll be fine."

"...I know you will..." you pout. "Okay, I'll let you go. Good luck. I hope you have an amazing first day. I'll see you at the end of the week, yeah?"

"Mhm. I'll call you to let you know how the day went later."

"Please do."

Toji hands you back your phone and walks toward the door with Megumi. "Let's get a move on," he says. He leans over quickly to peck your lips farewell. "I'll be back in a few."

"Don't speed, Toji."

"Speeding gets you places quicker," he winks and you suck your teeth disapprovingly. Megumi opens the door, his dad gripping the frame.

"Bye, boys. Stay out of trouble," you wave, eyes glassy as you watch Megumi walk out.

"See ya, doll."

"Bye, mum."

The three of you freeze the second the words hit the air, everyone stilling in their tracks.

You feel your heart burst as overwhelming happiness consumes you. Megumi keeps his face forward, hiding his reddening cheeks as he processes what he has just said. Toji stares at the back of his son's head, eyes wide, before he turns to look at you to find your shocked, giddy face.

You don't have any time to reply when Megumi clears his throat suddenly, sweat dotting his forehead, and he walks rigidly out of the house and swiftly down the hall without looking back.

Toji stays behind, keeping an eye on you when you look up at him, stunned. "Did he just...?" you murmur.

"Yep."

Your eyes immediately well with tears and your lips wobble, your hands flying over your mouth. "He sees me as his mom?" you whisper.

Toji chuckles, ducking down to you with his hand still gripping the door. "Of course he does. He's always adored you. Him and Tsumiki."

"I'm gonna cry."

The assassin chuckles softly, pressing his thumb to the corner of your eye gently. "You're already cryin.'"

"Shut up," you sniff. "God, I love those kids so much. I just wanna give him all the hugs in the world."

"And you'll be able to. There isn't a better woman on this planet to be there for the kids," he kisses your cheek. "That's why I plan t'marry you someday."

"Fuck you, Toj. You're gonna make me cry even more."

"Sorry, baby. Can't help talkin' about it," he leans back to the doorway. "Let me get the kid squared away and make sure he's not dyin' of embarrassment, then I'll be back to talk to ya about makin' this official."

"You're being for real?"

"Of course I am."

You lower your hands and beam. "Tell Megumi I love him and get back here soon."

"I will," he hums. "But I thought you said no speeding?"

"Just- make sure the two of you at least get to the school in one peace."

He smirks. "Will do, doll."

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writingsbychlo · 6 months ago

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PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE | mattheo riddle

summary; mattheo is your slightly toxic, slightly unhinged, but absolutely adoring and completely obsessed boyfriend.

word count; 7077

notes; literally the moment I started watching the PPP music video I was like 'oh it's so matty coded' and this came to mind immediately. I didn't intend for it to get so long, it was supposed to be a short drabble. whoops.

The first time you met Mattheo Riddle, you were just walking out of detention as he was walking in.

Well, being dragged in by Madam Hooch, more like. He had blood on his face, and his knuckles, and he was smirking to himself as a sorry-looking Cormac trailed them inside. His eyes met yours, he’d winked, and you’d both continued to watch one another over your shoulders as you crossed paths, until the door shut.

You were his, from that very first moment.

The following days brought stolen glances across the classrooms and the Great Hall, his arrogant smirks and your shy smiles, and the look on his face that made you blush. You had to see him again, and opportunity presented itself that same Thursday, in Potions class, as Mattheo argued with Snape over… something.

You’d tuned out, preferring to sit and watch him. He was just so pretty when he was mad.

“That will be detention, Mr Riddle.” Snape drawled in that monotonous tone of his, and Mattheo glared across the classroom at the professor, who looked like he couldn't have cared less if he tried. “Unless anybody else has any objections, we can return to—”

Your book hit the ground with a resounding thud. The sound of it echoed around the room, and all eyes turned to you. You weren’t sure what exactly had brought it on, and your friends stared at you, horrified about the disruption. An excuse sat on the tip of your tongue, but then your eyes met those enchanting honey-brown ones, and he was smirking at you once again, a single brow raised.

“Motherfucker.” You squeaked out, and after a pause that felt like it lasted an eternity, your professor sighed.

“Very well. Detention for you, too.”

Your jaw dropped, heat flushed your face, and Mattheo’s smirk stretched into a smile. Another wink, and you were a goner.

That same evening in detention, you’d been punctual and prompt, and he had sauntered in fifteen minutes late, sliding into the chair right beside you. Whispered conversations became jokes and confessions, inching closer and closer together, until you could count every little freckle that danced across his nose, and taste the nicotine and mint still on his breath when he spoke. His eyes held you captive, the stories he told had you on the edge of your seat, and the way his hand slid up your thigh had you burning.

Your first kiss was a month later, when he’d made you promise not to get any more detentions just to see him. Instead, you’d waited outside the classroom, and the moment he’d been out, he’d given you that same flirty grin. Pressed up into the stone wall behind you, with one of his hands beside your head as the other sat on your waist, his tongue had slipped into your mouth. He’d tasted like chocolate and cigarettes, and you’d been intoxicated.

And when he pulled back, his softest smile yet on his face as his hand had taken your own, you’d known that he was yours, too.

“What do you mean you’re going out with Mattheo Riddle?” Your friend hissed, her eyes wide as the two of you huddled close together, ducking along the corridors as you hurried to your next class.

“Well, I mean that he asked me out on a date, and I said yes, so—”

“Don’t be sassy with me!” She scoffed, and you smiled, shrugging. She really had left herself wide open for that, it wasn’t your fault you took the chance she presented. “He’s bad news.”

“Oh, come on. What does that even mean?”

“It means that he’s bad for you. He’s bad for everyone!” Finally reaching the classroom —early, as always— the two of you settled in at your desk, unpacking your books, and still whispering despite the empty classroom you found yourselves in. Not even the professor had arrived yet. “He’s always getting in fights, and he’s always in trouble or detention, and— hey! I bet he’s the reason you’ve been getting a string of detentions lately, huh?”

You had no rebuff to that, heat coating your cheeks but you couldn't hide the smile that grew on your face at the mere thought of all your detention time spent together. “He told me not to do that anymore, that’s why he asked for a date! See? He’s good for me.”

“Oh, gee, what a saint he is.” She muttered, eyes rolling so hard you thought they’d fall out. All humour slowly dissipated between you both, and she frowned and opened her notebook, dipping a quill in fresh ink. As the seconds ticked by, tension grew between you both that you didn’t like.

“Look, I know what people say about him, and the reputation he has, but he’s not like that with me. He’s not been like that with me.” Your hand lifted, scratching your cheek subconsciously. “It’s… not our first date. It’s just the first one I’ve told you about, because I knew you’d react like this. But, if you knew him like I did, you’d understand…”

Your voice trailed off, dreamy with a sigh and she turned to look at you. One of her brows raised as she put down her quill delicately. A beat passed, and her shoulders sagged, a little of the tension slipping free. “He really makes you happy? Because… I’m just worried about you, y’know?”

“I know, and I love you for that. But I just need you to be happy for me right now.”

“He’s going to break your heart. He’s going to make you cry, and hate the world, and I don’t like that.”

Your hand slipped to hers, taking it in yours and squeezing. Flicking through your mind was the confidence brought on by every sweet word he whispered in your ear. All the soft kisses and touches. They didn’t know the kindness, and the devotion, and the loyalty.

How could they, when they never gave him a chance? But his friends did, they saw the same side of him that you did. The version of him that would defend their name, and stop at nothing to make them happy. The version of him that didn’t believe the lies and the rumours, and never even looked at any other girls.

They didn’t know how funny he was, how secretly cuddly he was, or how he just craved a little attention. They didn’t see him on the nights he’d sneak into your dorm just to crawl into bed and hold you, or the flowers he’d drop off outside your door. They didn’t see the love-hearts written on the corners of his notes in class or the way he got grumpy if he went too long without affection.

You had good taste. You knew you did. It was just a shame nobody else saw it.

“He won’t, I know he won’t.”

“I hope for your sake he proves me wrong.”

Mattheo was nothing if not a sweet-talker. He’d spent the morning covering you with kisses, and whispering into your ear about the date he would take you on tonight. By the end of the day, you’d been kissed on every inch of your face, and the husky tone of his voice was still ringing in your ears as he bid you goodbye, and promised to pick you up in a few hours.

He’d been right on time, too. Knocking at your door at seven on the dot with flowers in hand and a whole new batch of compliments rolling off of his tongue. Gods, did Mattheo love to make you blush. Everything from looking you up and down seductively, to telling you that you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, he did it all.

He kissed you like you were the only woman in the world, like he wanted you to feel his love and devotion as much as he spoke the words, and you melted into him every time. Whether it was a brush of his lips over your own, or his hands grasping at your body, pulling you so close you nearly fused as his mouth claimed yours, he did all of it so passionately.

Now, he was kissing your knuckles, guiding you toward one of the more expensive restaurants in Hogsmeade, one you’d never been to before, and grinning at your expression.

“Matty, this place isn’t cheap!”

“Nothing will be good enough for my girl, but certainly nothing cheap. For now, this is the best I can give to you.” Tugging you in close, the two of you stood outside of the beautifully decorated little building, and he nudged his nose against yours. “One day, I’ll take you all around the world, to eat the best food with the best views.”

“Oh…” Your hands settled on his face, thumbs rubbing across his cheeks as he smiled, and you pressed a kiss on his lips in gratitude as words seemed to escape you entirely. “I love you.”

“I love you more, pretty girl.” His arms were tight around your waist, not quite ready to go yet, and his lips parted like there was something more he had to say. “Listen, when we get in there, I just have to speak to one of the workers real quick, okay?”

“Okay.” It didn’t seem all that concerning to you, and with a final kiss to your lips, he was holding open the restaurant door for you. His hand was warm in your own as he led you through the building. But then he was guiding you right past the hostess station, and you glanced back to it, but his feet never stopped moving, and you hurried to keep up with him.

Past tables and other workers, your jaw dropped with a soft gasp as he let himself into the back of the restaurant.

“Matty, I don’t think we’re allowed back here…”

“Don’t worry about it, baby.” Mattheo smiled, leaving another kiss on your cheek as he let go of your hand. “Wait here for me, ‘kay? I just need to speak to one of the chefs.”

With that, he was disappearing into the kitchens, and you leaned back against the wall, staring at the clock opposite you. Seconds ticked past, turning into minutes, ten of them, to be precise, before the shouting started. Mattheo was yelling, you’d know his voice anywhere, and when you poked your head around the doorframe and into the kitchen, it was to find him holding a vaguely familiar-looking chef by the collar, and slamming him into a wall.

“Mattheo!”

Your voice fell on deaf ears, as the two began to push. Mattheo’s back hit the counter behind him, a sickening smack and a grunt of pain, before the two were throwing fists. Every crunch of bones on skin and every rattling sound of a body hitting the workstations and countertops made your stomach turn. You covered your ears, turning your back on it all and shaking your head.

You didn’t need to see that.

Eventually, the other chefs stepped in, dragging Mattheo out of the backdoor. When it was all over, you apologised profusely as you hurried through the kitchen to follow after him, hopping over the boy he’d beaten half-senseless who was groaning on the floor.

Stepping out through the backdoor, Mattheo was pacing, spitting a bloody mouthful out onto the floor, and his head snapped up in your direction. Only when he realised who it was did his gaze soften, and he wiped his palm across the back of his mouth.

A few seconds of silence passed as the shock settled and you checked he was okay, and when he reached for you, you turned from him. Storming away down the alley, you heard his frustrated groan behind you, the sound of him kicking a trash can, before he was hurrying after you.

“Okay, I know that wasn’t how the evening was supposed to go—”

“Oh, it wasn’t?” Your laugh was so dry it almost made your chest hurt, and you didn't even bother to look back at him as you began to walk back through Hogsmeade.

“I fucked up, I know—”

“Understatement of the century.” You muttered, ignoring his attempts at excuses and explanations as you wove through the streets. People offered you both funny looks, no doubt because of the blood running from his nose as he tried to stop it, the pair of you mid-argument.

When you reached the edges of the town, Mattheo fell into step beside you, his hand skimming down your back, burning into you through the thin fabric of your dress. A dress that had been a damn waste to put on.

“Don’t touch me.” You hissed, slapping his hand away from your lower back, and he whined.

“Oh, come on, baby. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not sorry! You planned this, and told me we were going on a date!” Your arms crossed over your chest as you stomped back out of the small village, beginning the walk back towards the school. “You lied to me!”

“Woah, now! Hey! I never lied! I fully intended to—” He huffed as you continued to walk ahead of him, all but speeding in your heels until you wobbled, and he cursed under his breath, catching you to steady you. Spinning you around, he tipped your chin up with one finger. “Listen, pretty girl. I never meant for all this to happen, okay? I meant it when I said I’d made us a reservation. I just figured I’d go and get my money from this guy, maybe even let him off a few galleons so he’d give us better service, and then we’d have a nice date. I didn’t expect him to start a fight!”

“He didn’t start the fight, you did!” You poked a finger into his chest, and he winced. Obviously, you’d found a bruise by mistake. Smoothing your palm over it in way of a silent apology, his hand cupped yours, holding it over his heart. “You said ‘Let’s take this outside’.”

“Okay, well, I was calling his bluff. I didn’t expect him to actually take me up on it!”

Your jaw tightened, and your lip wobbled. You felt ridiculous, you’d gotten all dressed up, and you were hungry, and he’d let you down. At your expression, his own face crumpled, and he sighed sadly as he cupped your cheeks.

“Please, baby, don’t cry because of me. You look so pretty, you did your makeup so nice, I don’t want you to cry because of me. Let’s just go back and find somewhere else to eat, yeah?”

“I don’t want to, and we can’t! You’re dirty and bleeding, and you’ve got a black eye coming on. We can’t go anywhere.” You muttered, crossing your arms. He leaned in, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“I’m sorry. I love you, more than anything. I really didn’t mean for it to go like this. I won’t let it happen again.”

“Promise me.” You huffed, gaze finally returning to his, and he nodded emphatically. “No more acting stupid in front of me.”

“I promise, sweet girl. I’ll never mix business with pleasure again, okay? When I’m with you, it’s all you.”

Just like that, he had your walls crumbling. How could you stay mad at him, when he smiled so sweetly, and made you feel so special? You gave in, one hand lifting to his cheek, touching gently at the swollen skin around the cut on his face. He hissed and pulled back, and your frown only deepened. “C’mon, you can come to my dorm, I’ll clean you up.”

“You’re gonna’ clean me up?” His smile was like that of a puppy, taking your hand happily and guiding you back along the path. “I tell you what, I’ll force Nott to sneak into the kitchens and make us some pasta, in exchange for the room to himself tonight, how’s that?”

“And where will you be sleeping?” You smirked, and he matched it, shrugging.

“I don’t know. Maybe the cold, stone floor in front of the common room fireplace.” Your eyes rolled, and he dipped his head, leaving a kiss on your neck. “Or maybe, my loving girlfriend will let me stay over, and I’ll make it worth her while…”

“I don’t want to look at your battered face.”

“Put a pillow over my head and get on top, then.” He snickered, and your jaw dropped.

“Matty!”

You brushed your fingers through Mattheo’s curls, and a sleepy rumble emanated from him. He nuzzled in a little closer. The tip of his nose rubbed your sternum and his arms tightened around you. He pressed a lazy kiss to your skin through your tee, melting into you further with the sigh he let go.

You’d spent all day dozing on and off together, lounging in bed, and watching movies. You’d dragged yourself up at some point to grab a book, an attempt to be productive, but Mattheo had quickly put an end to that as he dragged you back into the sheets. Now, the evening was rolling around, the sun was setting, and the stagnation of the day was beginning to become bothersome.

With another huffed-out sigh, Mattheo lifted his head, a frown on his lips as your hand slipped down to his cheek. He was sleep rumpled, a crease across his cheek from where he’d been lying on you, and you rubbed it soothingly.

“I could do with some fresh air,” He eventually mumbled, twisting his head to kiss the palm of your hand. “Let’s go for a walk or something.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. Lately, he’d been getting into all sorts of arguments and fights. Never with you, no, your little disagreements ended with him conceding and kissing you senseless. But, he’d been drawing a lot of extra attention to himself lately, and it wasn’t all that positive. You weren’t so keen to have another date ruined by his fighting or being dragged off to detention.

“Maybe the courtyard?”

“We could stay here?” You suggested, and he pursed his lips, shaking his head.

“No, I want to go out. You don’t have to come, baby. I’ll just go for a smoke break, I’m sure Theo is knocking around here somewhere.” With that, he hauled himself up from the bed, and you watched him go. Stretching out muscles that hadn't been utilised all day, you bit your lip, tangled up in the sheets still as you watched him fetch a fresh t-shirt and tug it on, before searching for a pair of jeans.

You couldn't very well let him go alone, if he did, he’d smoke, and you hated that. But if you did go with him, you’d spend the whole time trying to stop him from riling up the Gryffindors he seemed to be having so many problems with recently.

He found a pair, tugging them up his legs and buttoning them at his waist. He was determined to go then, and you rolled over to prop your head up on your arm.

“I really can’t convince you to stay?” You teased, sneaking a bare leg out from under the covers that led all the way up, and giving him a flash of what else lay underneath. Rolling onto your stomach and letting the sheets fall, his eyes fell straight to the skimpy little bit of lace you’d donned earlier, barely classifying as underwear at all.

He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m gonna’ need a few more hours before I can go again, pretty girl. No matter how much you tease me with that little thong of yours.”

It was futile, once his mind was set, it was done. “Alright, fine.” You murmured, lips puckering as he leaned over the bed to give you a quick kiss. “I’ll come with you.”

“You will?” His face lit up, and guilt instantly flooded you.

It wasn’t necessarily his fault. It was just a part of his culture. He’d been raised on impulsivity and violence and arguments. You knew all about his home life, his childhood and his upbringing. He’d had a rough time of it, the grizzly truth unveiled to you between late-night kisses and midnights at the tower as he smoked. You were surprised he even possessed the limited emotional functions he did, unlike his brother. You were supposed to guide him, to help him see better, to love him right and show him the purity of it.

He tugged on your hands, an excited smile on his face as he helped you out of the sheets. He found your denim skirt on the floor, holding it out for you and letting you balance on his shoulders as you wobbled into it.

“How about the forest, instead?”

At least there would be fewer people there. He nodded his head, swiping a kiss to your cheek as he mumbled a spell to set the bed off on making itself. “Whatever you want, baby.”

“I could do with some fresh air,” He eventually mumbled, twisting his head to kiss the palm of your hand. “Let’s go for a walk or something.”

“Maybe the courtyard?”

“We could stay here?” You suggested, and he pursed his lips, shaking his head.

He found a pair, tugging them up his legs and buttoning them at his waist. He was determined to go then, and you rolled over to prop your head up on your arm.

He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m gonna’ need a few more hours before I can go again, pretty girl. No matter how much you tease me with that little thong of yours.”

It was futile, once his mind was set, it was done. “Alright, fine.” You murmured, lips puckering as he leaned over the bed to give you a quick kiss. “I’ll come with you.”

“You will?” His face lit up, and guilt instantly flooded you.

“How about the Lake, instead?”

At least there would be fewer people there. He nodded his head, swiping a kiss to your cheek as he mumbled a spell to set the bed off on making itself. “Whatever you want, baby.”

It would surely end badly, something or someone would send him into a spiral. But, until that happened, you wanted to soak up every second of that smile on his face, that you put there so easily. How anyone could think he was bad, when he smiled so sweetly, was beyond you.“Baby, wake up.” The words were mumbled tenderly into your ear, and you groaned a little at the hand gently shaking your shoulder. “Come on, pretty girl, open those eyes.”

“What, Matty? It’s the middle of the night.”

“I know, that’s why it’s the perfect time!” Excitement tinged his voice, and as you forced your eyelids open, you found him standing at the edge of your bed, wand lit up dimly, and your coat in his hand. “Get up, baby. We’re going for a walk.”

“Now?”

“Yes. You don’t think the stars and the moon are romantic? Isn’t there just something… better about the night?”

Your smile was against your will, sitting up slowly and swinging your feet out of the bed, suppressing a yawn. “You’re lucky I wore full pyjamas to bed tonight.”

“You mean I could’ve walked in here to find you naked?” He clasped a hand over his heart, letting out a pained groan. He handed you his wand to hold, before dropping to his knees before you.

“No, you perv! I meant that I’m wearing full-leg pyjamas, not my shorts!”

He only snickered to himself, while navigating your trainers onto your feet and tying the laces up for you. Once they were secure, he took his wand back, sliding it into his back pocket and clasping your hands in his own. With a kiss on your lips, he wrapped the warm coat over your shoulders. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be, Matty.”

He grinned at that, taking your hand, and leading you through the silent halls. Twigs snapped under your feet as you crossed the courtyard together, giggling and shushing each other, and you had to admit that he was right. Both the adrenaline of it all, and the beauty of the scenery, made for the perfect blend of excitement and romance.

As you cleared the school building and began to make your way out across the fields, Mattheo’s arm looped around your waist, supporting you through every dip and hole in the grass, never letting you so much as stumble.

“Nearly there.” He whispered into the cold night air as you approached the quidditch grounds, the different house flags blowing gently in the summer breeze.

“Nearly where? I thought we were just going for a walk.”

He didn’t reply, and only a couple of steps later, the barely concealed voices of several of his friends carried across the pitch towards you both. “Mattheo Riddle, I swear to Merlin, if you’ve brought me along on one of your ridiculous schemes—” You shrieked, cutting yourself off as one of the Weasley’s firecrackers shot past your head, between the two of you, and Theodore’s laughter echoed out, following it.

“Oi, Nott, watch it. If that’d hit my girl, the next thing to be hit would be your face on the fuckin’ concrete.”

“Relax, she ducked! No harm, no foul. Right, principessa?” Theo smirked, seeming to appear from the shadows as he sparked his lighter, and brought the flame to the end of his cigarette. Lorenzo was there too, a bag over one shoulder that rattled suspiciously as he came towards the three of you, and your arms crossed protectively over your body.

“Matty, what is this?”

“Don’t flirt with my girl in Italian.” Mattheo glared at his friend, but it soon melted away as he was handed the cigarette, and Theo tucked his hands into his pockets, appraising you.

“This, bella, is revenge.”

“What did I just say about the Italian—?”

“Why do you need revenge?” Your words crossed Mattheo’s who only huffed, but remained quiet as he passed the cigarette beyond you to Enzo. Nobody answered, and your boyfriend shuffled from one foot to the other as your narrowed gaze turned on him. “Mattheo.”

“The Gryffindors were talking shot about our upcoming game, and McLaggen and his mates thought it’d be funny to charm all our jerseys pink for practice, so we’re just getting even.”

“Why do I get the feeling that whatever you’re about to do is far beyond ‘even’? Pink jerseys don’t seem equal to… whatever you’re doing here. I want no part of it.” You spun on your heel, but didn’t get very far, not even a single step, before Mattheo was wrapping an arm around your waist, and pulling you into himself. You jabbed a finger into his chest, putting the full heat of your wrath into your stare, “You said we were going for a walk!”

“We are! We did. Look, this is gonna’ be fun, you’ll see. I know how much that one Gryffindor chick has been pissing you off lately. I'm getting revenge for you too, here!” He cupped your cheek, running his thumb over your lips, before planting a kiss there. “I’m avenging you, baby.”

He took your hand, pulling you along behind him with the kind of infectious excitement that made you smile, even when you didn’t want to. Sitting down on one of the benches, you watched with an amused smile at the way he and his friends whispered conspiratorially amongst themselves as they thought through just what they might do.

That innocent adoration you had didn’t last long.

You’d been expecting a few stink bombs in lockers and foul-smelling potions tipped into the shower drains that would stink for weeks. Maybe even a hex or two for inconvenience. A shriek burst past your lips as another of Theodore’s rockets shot past your head, screeching as it went and your hands clasped over your ears.

He was letting them off, inside. Glitter exploded everywhere, the few flaming pieces of ash sprinkling down eroded holes in the towels and jerseys hanging on hooks around the locker room. Glass shattered somewhere, and Theo all but howled with laughter as the rocket shot off into the night sky to fizzle out with a colourful bang.

Enzo was spray-painting something on the walls in the shower room, following his rude and physically impossible message spray-painted on the inside of the door that he was still snickering to himself about.

Mattheo was systematically unlocking all of the cupboards, and placing a different bad-luck hex on every single piece of equipment. After leaving a sporadic spiral-dive hex on one of the brooms and putting it back, you’d had enough.

Sweeping your hair out of your eyes, you stood, making your way over to his side. “Matty…”

“Yeah, baby?” He was distracted as he mumbled his response, careful wand-work as he charmed one of the beater’s bats to flop like wet spaghetti every time they tried to hit something.

“Mattheo.”

At your tone, and the use of his full name, he looked up. He took in the nervous expression on your face, the sad and pouty frown on your lips, and sighed. “What’s the matter?”

“Don’t you think this is a bit much?”

“They were talking shit about us!”

“You're risking really hurting someone, though!” You gestured around, from his handiwork to the broken window and glass fragments on the floor. “You’re actually damaging school property!”

“A few spells will have it cleaned up in no time. Don’t be dramatic.”

You gaped at him for a second, before walking away, turning your back to him and plopping down back onto the bench with a huff. Behind you, you heard him kick something, swearing under his breath, before he stepped back into your sight. When you didn’t look up at him, he dropped down to his knees, forcing himself into your line of vision.

He has his puppy dog eyes on, and pressed a kiss to each of your hands as he took them in his own. “I didn’t mean it like that, pretty girl. I just meant… you don’t get it. This is what we do. You’re just too sweet for this, you wouldn't hurt a fly. But this could be so much worse, it’s all a bit of fun, just trust me, yeah? I’m getting them back, for me, and for you.”

“But it’s a lot. And I never asked you to get even for me.” You whispered, and he nodded.

“You don’t have to ask. I protect you, that’s what I do. It’s you and me, baby. For life.” You softened a little at that, and he noticed, his smile growing again as he knelt up, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. “I won’t do anymore, how’s that? I’ll round up the boys, and we’ll get out of—”

Just then, voices flickered through the room. The angry, panicked shouting of at least six different people, rapidly got louder as they neared the space you occupied. Enzo clambered up onto one of the window ledges, and peered out of the broken glass. “Oh, shit. They know. ‘Least ten Lions, coming this way. And fast. Fucking go!”

The first spell bounced through the open glass, sending shards flying as it caught the last of the jagged spikes still on the frame, just as Enzo ducked out of the way. Theo scrabbled past, and out of the back door, Enzo quickly following, and you jumped to your feet as Mattheo did.

Another spell burst through, bouncing on the locked door, and the muffled voices of your accomplices felt a million miles away as fear struck through your body. The door rattled again, the lock creaking as the half-arsed spell they’d sealed it with threatened to give way. The pounding of your heart in your chest was deafening, roaring in your ears—

Then, a hand clamped down on yours, pulling you along. “Baby girl, let’s go! Come on, what are you doing?”

Mattheo tugged on your hand, like a splash of cold water the jolt he made snapped you to your senses. You stumbled after him, staring at his bouncing curls and the flush of his cheeks as he looked at you, guiding you out of the backdoor and into the night. Stumbling down the hill, the two of you ran so fast you almost fell several times, angry shouts following you out into the night as flashes and flickers of bright spells whizzed past you constantly.

You let Mattheo guide you, running until your lungs burned and your chest ached from your pounding heart, but you’d lost them. You’d lost Theo and Enzo, too. Silence shrouded you both as you finally came to a stop, only the lapping water at the shore of the lake and both of your soft pants to break the heavy quiet.

He turned to you, one hand lifting to tuck some hair behind your ear, and you glared at him as he leaned in to kiss one of your no-doubt flushed cheeks.

“You are so beautiful.” He whispered, knuckles still tracing up and down your jaw as he stared at you under the moonlight.

“I’m so mad at you for that. I hate running, and panicking, and vandalising. All the things I hate, you just wrapped ‘em up in one.”

He smiled something wicked, and leaned in, to bump his nose with your own. “You love me, though.”

“Debatable, right now.” Your scoff was lost as he pressed soft kisses to your lips, coaxing you into remembering just how much you loved him. You were ashamed to say that it worked, as you parted your mouth a little more to reciprocate.

You felt his smile pressed to your mouth as he did, that hand on your cheek smoothing out, fingers in your hair as he cupped your head, and angled your face for a deeper kiss.

You were once again both panting by the time he pulled away, satisfied and smitten.

“Come on, my angry girl. Let’s go for that walk now, yeah? Just me and you for a stroll around the lake.”

You winced as another cracking sounded out, the echo of Mattheo’s fist against the cocky Ravenclaw’s jaw had your stomach rolling. A boy you’d never much cared about. He was entitled and arrogant, and tended to run his mouth a little too much. He thought he was the best thing to grace the halls of Hogwarts, and a blessing to womankind, and you’d caught his eyes on you a couple of times.

Of course, you’d never mentioned as much to Mattheo, in hopes of sparing him this exact situation. Mattheo didn’t take kindly to lingering gazes, and he didn’t tolerate leering ones at all. He was protective, overprotective, and he was a little bit crazy. He was also in love, and in his opinion, the cat-call the Ravenclaw had given to you and the choice words he’d accompanied it had crossed a line.

And they said Ravenclaws were the smart ones.

So, Mattheo hadn't hesitated. He’d dropped your hand, curled it into a fist, and swung on the boy before he’d even finished smirking at your shocked look.

Now, you were sighing, as he took the Ravenclaw down to the ground, uncaring of the blow to his shoulder as the two rolled over the stone floors. Scuffling and throwing blows, a crowd formed around them, jostling you endlessly from side to side. He was winning, as always, beating the poor boy into the same blue as his house banners, and no amount of pleading on your behalf to just drop it was going to stop him now.

You should’ve been halfway to Hogsmeade by now. You’d never make your reservation, and you’d gotten yourself all dressed up for nothing. Hours wasted on hair and make-up and picking out the perfect outfit for this date, all for Mattheo’s impulsive temper and one gross creep to ruin it.

The two continued to brawl, fists slamming, feet kicking, and blood splattering as the crowd cheered and shouted so loud it was deafening. You’d learnt it the hard way a long time ago that you couldn't do anything to stop him now, not when he got into this state, without risking getting hurt yourself. All you could do was wait, and hope.

Finally, the Gryffindor prefect stepped in. He was a sturdy man, broad-shouldered and thick-muscled, as was his friend, as the two grabbed for one of Mattheo’s arms each, pulling him off and to his feet. Blood streamed from his nose, and he grinned, pink tainting his teeth before he spat at the boy curling up on the floor.

“You be fucking glad they stopped me, because I wouldn't have!”

“For fuck’s sake…” You muttered, the heat of embarrassment crawling up your cheeks as several gazes fell on you. Elbowing his way through the crowd was an equally red Professor Slughorn, but his flush was from anger.

“Riddle! Of course, it’s a Riddle. You can take yourself to detention.”

A whine slipped free from your throat as you crossed your arms over your chest. Mattheo attempted to shake off the two prefects, wiping his nose with his sleeve and wincing at the feeling. He shrugged, “I can’t tonight, professor. I have plans.”

“I don’t care! Detention, now!”

Stepping over the Ravenclaw still whimpering at your feet, Mattheo smiled what you assumed was supposed to be a seductive grin at you as you neared him. With the split of his lip, the stain of dried blood on his face, and the splotchy swelling along his nose and jaw, it didn’t quite hit the mark anymore. You were too angry to fall for it.

“So you’re bailing on our date, again?” Your lip wobbled, arms crossed your chest as you tried to glare at him, but the stinging in your throat betrayed you as your voice cracked.

“Don’t cry, baby, you did your make-up so nice. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” He leaned in, lowering his voice in an attempt for intimacy, despite the Gryffindors tugging on his arms. “I love you.”

You sighed, but released your anger, cupping his face softly so as not to aggravate the painful patches further. “I love you too.”

His lips barely brushed your own before Slughorn was grabbing him by his collar, and yanking him away through the crowds towards detention. Once he was gone, the cowering boy on the floor dragged himself to his feet, his friends hauling him away, and he made the wise decision not to even glance in your direction.

Even as the crowd parted and you made your way back to your dorm, the lingering feeling of anger petered out to immense disappointment.

Your reflection was frowning as you stared at yourself in the mirror, pretty outfit and stunning makeup, all going to waste while your boyfriend rotted the night away in detention.

Detention.

The same place where your relationship had started, and a ridiculous idea began to root itself in your mind. Tipping out the contents of your school bag, your books and quills scattered across the bedding, and you repacked it with what you’d need instead.

With a fresh spritz of perfume and a new swipe of lipgloss, you left your dorm, heels clicking against the stone as you hurried yourself along on your mission. The doors were spelled against sneaking out of detention, but sneaking in was surely a different case.

Your suspicions were confirmed as you pushed the door open, the loud creak echoing through the room, but you were granted entry as you stepped inside. The door slammed shut behind you, and yet, Flitwick didn’t so much as flinch from where he was snoozing atop the desk at the front of the classroom. Mattheo watched with widening eyes and tissues pressed to his nose as you walked through the aisles and took a seat beside him at the desk he’d claimed as his own.

“What’re you doin’ here, baby?”

You scoffed at his muffled voice, swinging your bag off your shoulder and onto the desk, before sitting down. Taking his hands in your own, you pulled them back, inspecting the damage he’d made to his pretty face. “It’s date night. I wasn’t going to let you sit in here all alone, when I put effort into looking this good.”

Your whispered words made him grin, and you took the tissues from his hands, dabbling softly at the last of the blood. When it was gone, you rifled through your bag instead, producing a small vial of swirling purple liquid. Upon seeing it, he groaned. “Oh, no, I hate those. They taste gross and musty.”

“Maybe if you hadn't done this to yourself, you wouldn't have to take it.” You uncapped the vial, and as the smell drifted to him, he gagged. You raised it to his lips, and he offered a sullen look but parted them for you to tip it into his mouth. Swallowing it came with a grimace, and you wiped your thumb over his lips to get rid of the sticky residue it left. Within seconds, the swelling on his jaw was going down, the cut on his nose was healing over, and the nasty bruising under his eyes was fading away. “That’s better. My pretty boy is back.”

He blushed at that but offered a cheeky grin, and leaned in to kiss you sweetly. Before his lips could meet yours, you swerved, and he grunted unhappily as his mouth landed on your cheek instead.

“You’re not kissing me while you still taste like that gross potion.”

“Typical.” He mumbled, but left a few more peppered kisses along your jaw. You worked as he did, laying out the various snacks you’d brought with you along the table, and as he caught sight of the chocolate frog, an excited gasp slipped free. He snatched the frog up quickly, tearing off the foil wrapper and snapping off a leg.

He lifted it to your lips, always offering you the first bite, and you let him feed it to you while he watched on. Happy you’d taken it, he snapped off another, dropping the chunk into his mouth and chewing happily.

“God, I love you so fucking much,” He sighed as he finished eating, finally leaning in to claim this kiss he had been denied earlier. “I’m gonna’ marry you someday.”

“Yeah, and you’ll probably get yourself arrested on the big day.” Your voice was bitter but your smile was the same as whenever he talked of his plans or your joint future. He knew you were bluffing too, closing the gap between you both once again, and nipping gently on your bottom lip.

“I always come back to you though, baby.”

That made you kiss him properly because you had no retort to offer. It was true, he always found his way back to you. He was crazy, reckless, and impulsive, but he was in love with you, and he didn’t care to hide it.

Not from the others in the detention room, not from the people in the halls, not from anyone on this earth. It was the two of you together, he’d never leave you behind or let you down, and you could trust him in that.

So, maybe he did prove ‘em right. But he also proved you right. Mattheo Riddle was so much more than they all said he was. He was loyal and loving, and he was yours.

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle/reader #mattheo riddle/you #mattheo riddle x you #harry potter #slytherin boys #benjamin wadsworth x reader #benjamin wadsworth/reader

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domjaehyun · 1 month ago

Text

under the influence (l.dh)

PAIRING ▸ stoner!haechan x fem!reader WORD COUNT ▸ 11.6k WARNINGS ▸ a hint of dubcon (she’s timid but very much likes the attention), pervy!dom!haechan, shy!sub!reader, slight dacryphilia, corruption kink, finger sucking, oral (giving & receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, nipple play (receiving), marking, some cum eating, spit play, groping in public, panty stealing & sniffing PLAYLIST ▸ FYS - john concepcion, sweet release - kevin ross NOTES ▸ hii i hope you enjoy! any and all positive feedback is greatly appreciated, so send me an ask if you liked it or let me know in the tags pretty please :)

As you press the button to call the elevator, you start to get the jitters. They start in your fingertips and travel up your arms to the back of your neck, making the fine hairs there stand on end, and you shudder slightly, shaking your head in an attempt to do away with the sensation.

The doors open with a ding, and you jump at the sound, making Yeri look over at you in alarm.

“Are you okay?” she asks, worries, and you nod, albeit a bit too quickly and vigorously to be convincing. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you say with a frown, and she rolls her eyes exaggeratedly. “Nothing!” you insist.

“You’re a horrible liar,” Karina reminds you, and your frown deepens. “But if you say so, I guess.”

Relieved, you follow Yeri and Karina into the elevator and lean into the back corner of the shaft, resting your back against where the two walls meet.

“We should watch a movie today,” Karina suggests excitedly, and she and Yeri fall into a discussion that you would join if you weren’t busy thinking about Haechan and whatever stunts he’s going to pull today.

It takes three calls of your name from Karina and a vigorous shake from Yeri to snap you out of it, and you look at them sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Girl, where do you keep going? Every time I look over at you, you’re in la-la land.” Yeri asks, concerned and amused.

“Sorry, I was just… thinking.” you mumble.

“We know that,” Yeri says with a chuckle and roll of her eyes. “Thinking about what, hm?” she presses, and you balk.

“She’s probably thinking about Haechan and what stunts he’s gonna pull today.” Karina supposes, and you frown, upset you’ve been caught.

In your defense, Haechan is always up to shenanigans when you’re around; he pulls at your skirt to fluster you, plays with your hair to get your attention, strokes under your chin just to watch your eyes glaze over—you name it, he’s either done it or is probably thinking about it.

You can’t honestly say his advances are unwelcome because, well, you’ve had a crush on him for the past six months. But something about him is so intense, so jarringly locked in, that it makes you hesitate, and being the object of his full and undivided attention never fails to make you the shyest version of yourself, and you manage to make a fool of yourself almost every single time you get around him, and you have no idea how you’re going to deal with his antics today.

“Girl.” Karina’s voice cuts through the fog in your brain and you blink hard, focusing on your friend’s concerned expression. “You’re doing it again.”

“Oh. Sorry,” you mutter, rubbing your arm awkwardly. “I’m here, for real.”

As the bell dings and the doors open, the three of you file out of the elevator, walking towards the end of the hall to your destination.

“If you need help with him, let us know. We can make up a code word!” Karina suggests helpfully, and you smile, endeared by your friend’s attempt to calm your nerves.

“What should it be?” you wonder, and she screws her face up thoughtfully.

“Blinker.” Yeri answers, and you both turn to look at her. “It should be blinker. Like, if he’s getting too close and you can’t handle it, you can just say you kinda wanna try hitting a blinker or something like that.”

“The last time I hit a blinker, I coughed for ten minutes straight and it was the most painful experience of my life.” Karina recalls, grimacing at the memory. “It’s perfect.”

“Great.” Yeri says, smiling reassuringly at you before the three of you stop in front of the apartment door. Without a second thought, Yeri knocks three times on the door, stepping back to where you two are standing and waits with you for someone to open the door.

It opens a moment later to reveal Haechan standing in the doorway, one hand on the doorframe and the other holding the door, and you wonder how such a simple stance has you short of breath.

He looks at Karina and Yeri, smiling pleasantly, before he locks eyes with you. Slowly wetting his lips, his eyes slowly drag up and down your frame, taking in your outfit and appearance before he meets your gaze once more and drops one eyelid into a flirtatious wink.

“Come on in,” he invites, stepping back to let Karina and Yeri in. When it’s your turn to pass, he moves closer, deliberately blocking part of your way so you have to brush by him to enter, and you’re sure it’s also no coincidence that he’s positioned himself so your chest has to brush against his. You swallow your nerves and continue walking past him, not daring to look back in case he’s looking at you; which, if today is anything like every other day you all hang out, he most certainly is.

Shutting the door behind you, Haechan follows after the three of you into the living room, but waits, standing, by the chair where Mark sits—for what, you don’t know. You wave hello to Mark in his favorite armchair and Jeno on one end of the couch, who greet you pleasantly and resume their tasks of packing the bong and rolling a joint, respectively. Mildly confused but saying nothing at Haechan’s behavior, you take a seat at the other end of the couch, only for Haechan to move at last, crossing the living room to sit directly next to you.

Your throat dries up at the prospect of being so close to him, and you inhale shakily, wanting desperately to roll your eyes back in your head when you catch a whiff of his intoxicating cologne.

Haechan doesn’t say anything for a moment, just rests one elbow on his knee and observes you with his cheek in his palm. His expression is nothing short of desiring as he takes in your appearance, your burgundy pleated skirt and short-sleeved cream blouse apparently quite the fascinating little number to him, causing you to shift awkwardly in your seat and self-consciously tug your skirt down a bit.

“Relax,” he chuckles. “I’m staring at you because you look good,” Haechan compliments, eyeing you appreciatively. “You always look good, though, but today… damn.”

You blink at him, stunned by the flirtatious lilt to his voice, and mumble, “Oh.”

“Oh?” he mimics you, chuckling, and you furrow your brows, frowning at his teasing. His brows lift up as his face brightens with amusement, and he shakes his head slowly with a smile.

“Thank you.” you say softly, and he nods, smile widening.

“You’re so cute.” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours. Your eyes dart around, looking everywhere but at him, but he recaptures your attention when he snickers quietly and you meet his gaze to see he’s no longer looking at your eyes, but your lips, and there’s a distinct longing in his stare that unnerves you and, if you’re honest, piques your curiosity. “Did you make it here okay?”

“Yeah,” you mumble quietly, eyes shifting back and forth from his eyes to your lap before you give into temptation and look at his lips, regretting it instantly when they quirk up into a smirk as he catches you looking. “The bus was basically empty, and it had heating today.”

“Mm, that’s good to hear,” he muses, running his fingers through his hair, and you attempt to hide the way you swallow thickly at the attractive sight. “We don’t want anyone pressing up against such a pretty girl and trying anything sleazy, right?”

“Um…” you trail off, managing to restrain the reply on the tip of your tongue that Haechan is probably the most likely candidate to press up against you and try something sleazy.

“...Right.” he finishes for you, and you nibble your bottom lip.

“...Right.” you echo, and he grins.

“So… Do you wanna smoke?” he asks.

“I do,” you confirm shyly, and he smiles slightly, no doubt amused by your nervousness.

“Good girl. Did you wanna hit my pen? It’s pretty strong.” he offers, and you won’t lie—your brain blanks for a minute at the praise, but you’re pretty sure you manage to recover just in time for Haechan not to notice anything.

“Okay,” you reply hesitantly, and he grins.

“Great—give me one second to get something.” he says before standing up and heading to the back of the apartment to his room. You wait fairly patiently, fingers lightly drumming on your knee as you wait for him to return.

“What’s up?” Mark asks curiously.

“Haechan’s getting something from his room.” you explain, and Mark nods slowly, lips pursed thoughtfully.

Haechan returns from the back of the apartment after a moment with a new cartridge in his hand. You watch with mild fascination as he deftly switches the cartridges in his pen, taking a test pull and holding it in for so much time, you’d swear he’s trying to show off.

When he looks over at you and winks before blowing it out, your suspicions are confirmed.

“This strain is special,” Haechan murmurs to you, and his eyes drop to your lips as he continues, “it’s a ‘horny’ strain.”

“A horny strain?” you mumble, confused, and he nods with a grin.

“It heightens libido.” he adds, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Want some?”

“That’s not real,” Mark calls out from across the living room, and you crane your head to see him. “There’s no actual science to back that up.”

Haechan scoffs, rolling his eyes. “No one signed up for your TEDTalk on weed; save it.”

Mark grumbles something about misinformation being the death of society but remains otherwise silent.

Haechan calls your attention back to him with a simple clearing of the throat, and you look back at him to see his gaze heavy-lidded and sultry as he regards you, and you start to wonder if Mark might actually be the misinformed one.

“Want some?” he repeats his question from earlier, and you hesitate, making him roll his eyes and chuckle. “It’s not gonna bite you.” As you shift closer to take the pen from him, he holds it out of your reach with a glint in his eye. “I might, though,” he murmurs, and you swallow thickly.

He scans your frame, eyes lingering on your almost outstretched hand, and takes a slow, deep pull from the pen, not holding it in for nearly as long before he’s leaning towards you suddenly, making you yelp and draw back.

“Relax,” he mumbles, some of the smoke slipping from his mouth. He cups your chin in his hand and tugs gently to get you to open your mouth before leaning closer, so close that you fear your lips might touch, leading you to attempt to pull back; however, Haechan’s grip on your chin tightens, a clear sign to stay where you are, and he blows the smoke into your mouth slowly. You’re deeply flustered at first, but your instincts kick in as you inhale the secondhand smoke, holding it in your lungs for a couple of seconds before blowing it back out.

When you’re done exhaling, you expect to pull back, but Haechan’s grip on you hasn’t loosened, the male now studying your lips with an intensity in his gaze that gives you a twinge of anxiety and something else you don’t have it in you to identify.

“You ever shotgunned before?” he asks softly, and you shake your head as much as his hold on you will allow. “You did a good job.”

“Thanks,” you mumble meekly. “Can you let me go now?”

He rolls his eyes slowly, lips quirking into a cocky grin as he does just that, releasing your chin and sitting back. “If you say so.”

“Thanks,” you mutter quietly, and he flicks his brows upwards in acknowledgement, gaze scanning you before lingering for a moment by the side of your face. “What is it?”

“You have something in your hair,” he says, gesturing to near your ear. When you fail to retrieve the foreign object, he tsks in dissatisfaction before leaning over and gently removing a single white feather from your hair. “Probably from the pillows.” he explains, the backs of his fingers gently grazing your ear as he pulls back. When you squirm away from his touch slightly, the contact too sensitive and ticklish, Haechan chuckles softly. “Look how nervous I make you.” His fingers return to your ear, gently stroking the shell of your ear, and your face blazes with embarrassment and something else as he hums softly. “Even your ear is hot. Do I make you hot anywhere else?” He drops his hand, fingers lightly skimming your upper thigh, and you just about jump out of your skin, cursing internally when you see the delight in his expression.

“Thanks for getting the feather out of my hair,” you say in a desperate attempt to navigate the conversation elsewhere, but it seems Haechan isn’t quite set on letting you off that easily.

“Oh, come on,” he presses, sitting closer to you and leaning so close you can smell his (delicious) cologne. “Don’t tell me your heart isn’t racing right now.”

It is, you think grimly. That’s exactly what I’m trying to avoid.

“Haechan, leave the poor girl alone,” Karina calls from the other end of the couch, and the momentary waver in Haechan’s attention on you as his eyes dart elsewhere is all you need to scoot further back and smooth your skirt out with a vigorous clearing of your throat.

When Haechan looks back over at you, you’ve thankfully managed to regain a semblance of your composure, your gaze politely but pointedly focused at your hands in your lap.

“Pretty girl, you want another hit of the pen?” Haechan offers, and you think back to the way Haechan clutched your chin earlier to shotgun you, finally shaking your head in refusal. “Okay,” he relents, reaching into his back pocket for something and frowning before pulling out an empty hand. “I have something for you.” he says before standing up and heading back to his room.

He emerges once more with a half of a red gummy cube sticking out of his mouth, sitting back down on the couch and draping his arm over the back so it’s ghosting just over your shoulders. “Bite,” he urges through closed teeth, and you shoot him a wary look. “Bite,” he stresses, and you falter, not sure if you should.

“Is it an edible?” you ask cautiously, and he rolls his eyes, an amused chuckle leaving him.

“Yes. Bite.” It’s not a request, and instead of getting huffy about him bossing you around, you’re more surprised than anyone else when you lean in and carefully bite the other end of the gummy, tugging your half away from his mouth before chewing it. It’s sweet and sugary, but there’s a definite strong aftertaste, a tongue-drying, almost numbing sensation that reminds you it was more than just a little snack. “See, you don’t mind sharing with me, right?”

You don’t answer, instead sitting back and pulling out your phone to fire off a quick text to your group chat consisting of the two girls sitting a little ways away from you and your fourth roommate, Yurin, who usually frequents these hangout sessions but had to pass this time to study for midterms.

you [18:11pm] SOS

you [18:11pm] he keeps being all TOUCHY TOUCHY what do i do?

You set your phone down on the couch face down and stand up, heading to the bathroom to calm your nerves.

Little do you know, your phone buzzes while you’re gone, Haechan’s curiosity getting the better of him as he flips your phone over.

Luckily for him, and very unluckily for you, you don’t have a privacy setting on your Messages app notifications, meaning that any incoming texts can be read by any prying eyes, no passcode necessary.

yurin big trouble mister [18:14pm] maybe tell him how you get all TOUCHY TOUCHY with yourself to the thought of him 😁

karina bo bina [18:16pm] god could you be any more crass??

yurin big trouble mister [18:17pm] LMAOOO i couldn’t help it the joke was right there

yeri berry [18:18pm] you’re laughing. our dear friend is about to get consumed by a weed smoking incubus and you’re laughing.

Haechan snorts to himself in amusement, deliberately leaving your phone face-up for your return. You enter the room shortly after, picking up your phone and scrolling through your notifications with a small frown bordering on a grimace.

“What’s got you all upset, pretty?” Haechan asks, feigning curiosity, and you flinch, locking your phone and tossing it in your lap in a panic. “And now you’re jumpy, too? What’s on that phone that’s got you so stressed out, hm?”

“Nothing,” you answer far too quickly for your liking.

“I don’t think it’s nothing,” Haechan persists, voice lowering in pitch and volume as he moves closer to you, eyes bright with excitement and something else you can’t quite place. “I think there’s something incriminating on that phone.”

“Incriminating?” you mumble, dazed and flustered, and Haechan nods slowly, lips curling into a wolfish grin.

“Incriminating like… nudes, maybe,” he muses, tapping his chin thoughtfully, and at the sight of your confused face, shakes his head. “That must not be it. Maybe a message of some sort… from a friend…” You freeze as you realize exactly what’s going on, and Haechan’s grin only widens now that he can tell you know that he knows. “Wonder what you look like when you… how did she put it? ‘Get all touchy touchy with yourself’ to the thought of me.”

“Haechan,” you murmur, heart rate quickening as you try to think of any possible way out of this conversation. “It’s not what you think it is.”

“I think it’s exactly what I think it is.” he counters with a mischievous wiggle of his brows, and you whimper in panic, desire starting to blaze in his eyes at the sound.

“What were you doing looking at my phone, anyway?” you accuse, cursing to yourself as your voice shakes slightly.

“I’m nosy,” is all he offers in response. “And, oh, please, you wanted me to see that text. You wanted me to know that late at night,” he teases, pulling your hand closest to him away as you squeal and try to cover your ears, “you touch your pretty little pussy,” he forces your hand back down between you two with a chuckle, “and think about me.”

“Could you lower your voice, please?” you mumble nervously, and he just laughs.

“You don’t want everyone to know that you’re into me, do you?” he remarks, and you swallow thickly, looking down at your lap. “I’ll keep your little secret. For a price.”

You study him out of the corner of your eye suspiciously. “What price?”

He strokes his chin thoughtfully before leaning back and draping his arm behind you on the couch. “I’ll let you know.” His voice is teasing but there’s an ominous edge to his voice that makes you gulp.

“Hey, Yeri?” you call, and her attention is on you instantly. “Remember when, um, you hit that blinker earlier? How’s your throat feeling?”

Her eyes widen almost imperceptibly in understanding and she rubs her throat gingerly, frowning deeply. “It’s still sore. Wanna come get some water with me?”

“Yes,” you accept the offer gratefully and practically spring up from the couch, following after Yeri and ignoring, to the best of your ability, Haechan’s little snicker from behind you.

“You wanna switch seats?” Yeri asks in a low, concerned voice as you two enter the kitchen, and she laughs when you hesitate.

“I mean, I like it, I just… need a quick break.” you mumble, and she nods, pouring herself a glass of water. “Could you guys, um, hear him earlier?”

“No… why?” she scrutinizes you, and you blink, flustered.

“He saw the group chat texts.” you mutter, and her eyes widen in alarm, setting her glass down a bit too harshly, the loud clink resonating throughout the room.

“I’m gonna kill Yurin.” she hisses.

“Not if I get there first.” you huff, and she snickers. Footsteps sound out from the living room, making their way to the kitchen, and Yeri pauses. “It’s not Haechan,” you assure her. “I think it’s Karina.”

Sure enough, Karina enters the kitchen, and Yeri looks at you in surprise. “How’d you know?”

“I recognize the footsteps.” you explain with a shrug. “Plus, the guys are wearing house slippers and we’re in, like, socks, so it makes a different sound.”

“Okay, little miss super spy.” Yeri teases with a laugh, and you giggle, pushing her playfully. “Have you recovered, you think?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, smiling. “I’m ready to go back out there.”

“What’d I miss?” Karina whines, and Yeri looks at you expectantly.

“Haechan saw the texts about me… at night… that Yurin sent.” you explain carefully, and Karina lets out a loud gasp, her hand flying to cover her mouth.

“I’m killing her.” she groans, and you and Yeri chuckle.

“Get in line, girl.” Yeri says, and Karina snorts in amusement.

“You’re gonna be okay if we go back out there, right?” Karina asks worriedly, and you’re briefly overcome with appreciation for your friends.

“I’ll be okay, I’m pretty sure. I’ll just say blinker again if anything goes wrong.” you confirm, nodding resolutely, and the crease between Karina’s brows fades away as she relaxes.

You three make your way back to the living room, fully preparing to sit back down, but thankfully, before Haechan can torment you further, Jeno inadvertently saves your life and whatever’s left of your dignity by standing up from the couch abruptly and clapping his hands together. “I’m hungry. Diner?”

“I would kill for waffles,” Karina agrees, and Mark and Haechan also stand and start to grab their belongings as you all make your way to the door and slip your shoes on.

As you shuffle between Yeri and Karina for protection and wait as the elevator descends to the indoor garage of the apartment complex, a tickle starts to build in your throat, making you clear it quietly, then more insistently when the sensation persists.

“You okay?” Haechan asks, hand poised over your back to pat it in assistance, and you nod.

“My throat is just… a little dry,” you mumble, and Haechan nods in understanding, reaching into his jacket and handing you a Blow Pop. “Thanks,” you mutter, pleasantly surprised as you unwrap the lollipop and stick it into your mouth. By the time the doors open on the garage floor, the flavored saliva produced by the sweet treat sitting in your cheek has almost entirely soothed your throat, and you’re feeling significantly better.

The six of you make your way to where Jeno’s and Haechan’s cars are parked beside each other and stand behind the two cars, silently deliberating amongst yourselves.

“Well, I call shotgun.” Mark calls out, and Jeno unlocks his car, Mark sliding into the passenger seat.

“There’s no way all six of us are gonna cram into Jeno’s car,” Yeri remarks incredulously.

“Yeah, definitely not, because my middle backseat’s seat belt isn’t working and the airbag sensors are fucked up, so it’s a seat belt or nothing in my car.” Jeno laments, and your skin starts to crawl as you realize where this might be heading.

“So your car only seats four… and there are six of us…” you say slowly, pulling the lollipop from your lips with a muted wet pop that has Haechan eyeing you like a lion about to corner the slowest gazelle of the herd. Usually, there are seven of you, so even if you had to ride with Haechan, there’d be a third body present in the form of the lovably boisterous Yurin.

Curse Yurin’s midterms, and curse Yurin for sending that text, and curse yourself for leaving your phone where Haechan could see, and curse Haechan for being nosy—

“I’ll ride with Haechan,” Karina offers, noticing the way you become more and more quiet as you sink further into your worries.

“No, you won’t.” Haechan says, leaning against his passenger door. Everyone looks over at him, and he just pushes off of the door, opening it and pointing directly at you. “Get in.”

“Oh, gosh.” you mumble, and you’re not sure if it’s the weed effect making you feel sluggish or you’re really that apprehensive, but you feel a bit like a puppet with sandbags for shoes, your feet hesitantly shuffling, dragging, scuffling towards Haechan’s passenger door.

“It’s an eight-minute drive,” Yeri calls to you sympathetically, and you nod, shooting her a feeble thumbs up that you don’t even believe. “We’ll see you soon!”

“Yeah,” you croak, feeling very much like a lamb being led to slaughter, and Haechan smiles sweetly at you, baring all his teeth as you sit in his car. He closes the passenger door and crosses over to the driver’s side, opening the door and getting in.

When Haechan finishes settling down into the driver’s seat, checking his mirror views and pulling up the GPS to the diner, he straps himself in and looks over at you, eyes scanning your frame for something—you don’t quite know what. Seemingly done with his inspection, he leans closer to you without warning and reaches for the seat belt buckle in your chair, pulling it out and over your body as he clicks it into place. The whole while, he’s invading your personal space, your breath catching in your throat as you realize his face is close enough to yours that you could probably count his lashes if you wanted to.

He turns his head ever so slightly, eyes locking on yours, and you blink rapidly in alarm, rendered immobile as he studies your face.

“You look so cute, all innocent and helpless like this.” he murmurs softly, and the tiniest of squeaks escapes you, his eyes flashing with glee at the sound. “Now stop looking at me like that,” he warns, “or I’ll kiss you.”

You blanch, trying immediately to make any other expression than the one you didn’t even know you were sporting, and he chuckles before sitting back in his seat and starting his car. He turns the air conditioning on—a strange choice, considering it’s a bit nippy outside—and pulls out of his spot, starting to drive towards the diner.

It doesn’t take long for you to get cold, goosebumps gradually appearing on your arms and legs, but you’re a bit too nervous to say anything, instead suffering in silence. You clasp your hands together in your lap, rubbing them together for warmth, and, as he stops at a red light, Haechan looks over at you, watching in fascination as you shift in your seat for any sort of friction that could warm you. After a moment, you notice his eyes fixated pointedly on your chest, and you spare a glance down to see, to your alarm, that your nipples are hard, starting to poke through your clothing, and you curse internally for wearing a thin, lacy bra that does nothing to conceal your stiffened buds.

He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, smirking in what seems like satisfaction, before refocusing his attention on the road. You cross your arms over your chest protectively, tucking your fingers into the crooks of your elbows as he drives down the road.

“We’re here,” he announces after some time, pulling into a parking spot in front of the diner and turning the car off. The cold air blowing through the vents shuts off, much to your relief, and you unbuckle your seat belt before he gets the chance, practically flinging yourself out of the car into the significantly less cold night air.

As you all file into the diner, you notice a man staring very pointedly at you and your bare legs and your chest, where your nipples have yet to go down.

Haechan scans the room, catches sight of the man, and follows his gaze back to where you stand, his jaw clenching.

“Put this on,” Haechan murmurs, shrugging off his jacket and offering it to you. You start to take it, eager for warmth, but pause, looking at him suspiciously.

“Why?”

His gaze flicks over your shoulder at where the man from earlier sits, and understanding dawns on you. “Just—put it on for me?”

You nod, gratefully accepting the jacket, and Haechan steps closer, draping it over your shoulders and helping you put your arms through the sleeves.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, and he nods.

“You look cute in my jacket.” he remarks with a small smirk, and your cheeks warm.

“Thank you,” you mumble, and he trails his tongue along his bottom lip before gesturing for you to follow after him with a jerk of his head, a quick peek past him revealing the hostess who’s arrived to take you all to your seats.

When you arrive at the booth, Haechan’s right by you, gesturing for you to go in first. You do so without complaint, preferring the inner seat anyway, but it’s when Haechan slides in next to you that you realize your mistake as he closes you into the booth corner, the main obstacle between you and freedom from, well, him.

As the hostess passes out menus and you all start to look them over, you feel the side of his hand resting against the side of your thigh, making you attempt to shift away from his hand, the touch too intimate for you to handle at the moment.

Somehow, his hand finds its way back against your leg, palm turned up slightly as he lightly grazes his fingertips along your thigh, and you suck in a sharp breath, doing your best to pass it off as a cough when Haechan looks over at you, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“I think I’m gonna get the breakfast platter,” Yeri says excitedly. “It comes with pancakes, eggs prepared how you want them, homefries, and your choice of meat.”

“That sounds so good,” you reply thoughtfully. “I think I want a burger.”

“Yeah, a burger sounds good,” Haechan agrees, eyes slowly sliding over to study your reaction as he flattens his palm against your leg, slowly sliding it up to caress your upper thigh. Your reaction must be nothing short of rewarding, as you jolt so forcefully that you shake the table slightly, and he chuckles softly.

“You okay, girl?” Karina asks, worried, and you nod, swallowing thickly.

“I just, um…felt a tickle on my ankle. Thought it was a bug or something.” you mumble, and she nods, eyebrows still furrowed in concern.

“I know I said waffles earlier, but I kind of want these barbecue ribs,” Karina says, pointing at an entry on the menu, but you can barely make your gaze focus on where her finger touches the menu because Haechan’s hand is still very much on your thigh, and to make matters worse, you think you like it.

His hand slides up higher, the side of his thumb slipping under the hem of your skirt, and you raise your glass to your lips in an attempt to act natural, hoping and praying no one notices the way your hand is shaking slightly.

Haechan leans in closer to you, murmuring in your ear, “This must be a dream come true for you, huh?” He grips your thigh firmly, not even attempting to play it off as a casual touch anymore, and you barely manage to stifle your yelp of surprise in time. “Must have been wanting this for so long,” he breathes secretively, smiling lips grazing the shell of your ear so subtly, no one else would notice unless they were paying unnaturally close attention.

You, however, do notice. Not only do you notice, but you suck in a sharp breath of surprise, the sudden movement making the water in your cup slosh forward and spill out slightly, a few droplets dripping down your chin.

You suck your teeth in mild irritation, glaring at Haechan as you reach for your napkin, but he’s faster, his free hand coming up and wiping the liquid off of your chin.

“Um, thanks.” you mumble, and he nods, locking eyes with you as he licks at the pad of his thumb, cleaning off the water droplets with his mouth. “Oh, dear Neptune.” you whisper to yourself, feeling more and more overwhelmed by the moment. “Where is this waitress—I need to eat something.”

“Yeah, we should let her know we’re ready to order,” Mark says, waving a hand out to flag down the waitress. As she approaches, you sneak a peek at Haechan, whose expression is surprisingly calm and neutral given the sensual, slow circles he’s drawing on your upper thigh with his thumb.

Haechan’s hand slips further in between your legs, getting dangerously close to your core, and you decide that’s enough play time for him, clamping your legs together forcefully.

“You trapped my hand, pretty girl,” he points out with a growing grin, and you ignore him even as he continues, “I didn’t know you liked it that much.”

You still don’t give him a response, staring stubbornly out the booth window, and he chuckles before withdrawing his hand from your legs with such ease that you wonder if he was ever really stuck there.

“Oh, we’re doing the silent treatment? Copy that.” he muses, nodding slowly in understanding, and you can’t help but wonder what else he has in store for you.

Today, the energy in the room is entirely different—and you don’t like it one bit.

Haechan won’t even acknowledge you today; his eyes skip over you when he scans the room like you’re not even there, or, worse, he seems to be looking completely through you at times, completely unaffected by your presence.

“Girl, did you piss Haechan off or something?” Yeri whispers to you, and your brows knit together as you shake your head. “He hasn’t made a single move on you all day.”

“I know,” you mutter bitterly.

“Maybe he’s sick,” Karina supplies in an attempt to help, but her words practically fall on deaf ears as you stare burning holes into the side of his face as he laughs at something Mark said.

“I’m about to be sick,” you mumble, your stomach twisting uncomfortably as your somewhat secret crush that used to be obsessed with you treats you like you’re nothing more than a couch cushion.

You don’t know what’s come over you, but when Haechan gets up and heads towards the kitchen. you find yourself standing to follow, mumbling that you’ll be right back to Karina.

Haechan stands with his back to you at the kitchen island, pouring a can of something—it looks like Monster—into a glass, and you take a moment to admire his slender yet lean build, the curve of his shoulders and the perfectly mussed up state of his hair—

“I know you’re there, you know.” he says calmly, and your eyes widen as you immediately attempt to look busy doing anything other than blatantly ogling him. He turns right when you’ve reached for a bag of Ruffles chips and raises an eyebrow expectantly. “You have something you want to say?”

“What do you mean?” you ask, slightly thrown off-guard, and he blinks at you impassively.

“I noticed you staring at me,” is all he says in response, and you blanch, pursing your lips carefully.

“Haechan, are you mad at me?” you ask softly, and he smirks.

“And why do you ask that?”

You fidget with the hem of your skirt nervously, averting your gaze to look at the granite countertop. “Well, you… haven’t talked to me all night.”

Haechan doesn’t say anything for a concerningly long time, prompting you to look up at him and immediately wish you hadn’t. He looks beyond smug, and painfully attractive as he leans in slightly, not close enough to get in your space but close enough to send a thrill down your spine.

“You were giving me the silent treatment the other day, right?” he reminds you, and you hesitate, realizing you were the cause for his radio silence. “I was just returning the favor.”

“Well, don’t.” you say with a frown, and he raises his eyebrows, amused and surprised.

“Why not? Did you miss me or something?” he teases, and you balk, losing all your nerve as quickly as you’d found it.

“No!” you answer quickly, and he arches an eyebrow skeptically, prompting you to continue, “No, I just—”

“You and I don’t really talk much, anyway,” Haechan muses, leaning his back against the island as he regards you with a cocky glint in his eyes. “So what is it you really miss, hm?”

“Well—” you struggle to find your words, and something softens in Haechan’s gaze, the cocky twinkle now accompanied with a smile bordering dangerously on fondness.

“You miss me messing with you, don’t you?” he asks, and at your lack of response, nods in confirmation. “You miss me touching you?” he questions, dragging out the syllables excruciatingly slowly. He sucks his teeth when you still don’t reply and says, “I know you do. You know you do. Now just admit it.”

“I can’t,” you protest weakly, and he shrugs, raising his hands in surrender.

“You want me to touch you again? Give me what I want.” He sounds dead serious and painfully unwavering on his stance, prompting you to whimper quietly to yourself, too wrapped up in your own nerves to notice the way his eyes darken at the sound of your desperation.

“I want you to touch me.” you mumble shamefully, and his lips quirk up into the beginnings of a smile.

“Come here; say it again.” he urges, beckoning you closer, and you hesitate, making a challenge flash in his expression before he’s poking his tongue into the inside of his cheek and chuckling. “Don’t make me come over there.”

“I want you,” you say, “to touch me,” you repeat your words from earlier, trying desperately to look anywhere but at him.

You can see him crossing the distance between you in your peripheral vision, your insides tensing with anticipation as he gets closer and closer. To your utter disappointment, he continues to walk as if he’s going to pass you, only pausing to tilt his head to the side in a patronizing display of faux sympathy.

“Good girl. Now, was that so hard?” he chuckles, not even giving you a chance to respond before he continues his path out of the kitchen, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

What in the absolute hell did you just get yourself into?

You’re coming back from the bathroom when you quite literally almost run into Haechan in the hallway.

“Sorry,” you say, stepping to the side to get past, but he steps to the same side. You laugh awkwardly before stepping to the other side, only for him to do the same, his movements far too calculated to be a mistake, and you come to the realization that he’s intentionally blocking your path. “Haechan?” you ask quietly, nervousness creeping into your voice, and he chuckles.

He takes a step towards you, prompting you to take a cautious one backwards, and his smile widens as he advances on you, slowly but surely herding you back towards the bathroom. When your back hits the nearby wall, your eyes widen, and he mocks you, briefly widening his eyes in faux surprise before flicking his brows up suggestively and placing one hand on the wall by your head on the side you could escape from, successfully trapping you in a makeshift corner.

“You’re so cute, really.” Haechan sighs, smiling fondly at you, but there’s a devious twinkle in his eye as he regards you.

As he closes in on you, your body is alight with nerves and anticipation, and you decide to try again, feebly calling, “...Haechan?”

“Shh, shh, shh,” he quiets you soothingly, reaching up with his free hand to brush your hair out of your face. “Don’t act like you don’t want this, baby.” As if to prove his point, he presses his knee between your legs, thigh pressing up against your clothed core, and a poorly restrained moan bubbles up in your throat.

“Haechan—” you whine, and he shoots you a smug smile.

“See, baby? I know you want it. You know I want it. That’s why you always wear these tiny fucking skirts whenever you come over,” he states, hand dropping from your face to tug at the hem of your skirt, and you gasp—both at the sudden yanking and the insistent pressing of his thigh against your core. “You like it when I do this. Bet you were waiting for me to slip my hands under your skirt to touch you.”

“Mm-mm,” you protest, but the way your hips move against him, rolling back and forth and grinding wantonly in search of relief, is telling another story, Haechan arching a brow skeptically.

“Mm, no? You don’t like it? But, wait… what was that you said in the kitchen earlier?” he questions, a taunting lilt to his words. “‘I want you to touch me,’” he echoes your earlier request in a poor imitation of your voice. “Well, I’m touching you, baby—don’t you like it?” When your only reply is a small nod, he shakes his head disapprovingly, gaze darkening. “Words.”

“Yes,” you whimper, breath catching in your throat when he rewards you with a firm upwards press of his thigh into your core. Your movements speed up slightly as you feel that familiar tightening sensation in your abdomen, your climax not far ahead.

“Are you gonna cum just like this?” he asks, and there’s a hint of amusement to his words but it’s almost entirely overtaken by the heavy desire in his voice.

“Mm-hm,” you whine softly, your desperation peaking as your high gets closer and closer.

“Beg me to let you cum.” he urges, and you’re already so far gone that your shame is all but done away with.

“Please, Haechan, can I cum?” you pant urgently, a slight pleading quality to your words as you feel the beginnings of your climax, pleasure blooming between your legs in a gush of warmth. “Please?” you whimper, and something in him snaps, Haechan lurching forward and cupping your face in his hands to hold you in place as he kisses you deeply, his tongue tracing along your lower lip as you tremble and moan weakly into his mouth.

When you move to pull away to breathe, he clutches your face more firmly, slipping his tongue into your mouth and exploring at his leisure, all the while ignoring your muffled, plaintive cries for air.

“Haechan, I can’t breathe,” you rasp out finally, and he lets you go with a shaky inhale and an unmistakable reluctance.

“You are so goddamn addicting.” he pants, and his hands drop to your hips, resuming the motions you weren’t aware you’d stopped. “Keep going.”

His hands keep guiding your movements, practically dragging you back and forth on his thigh as he kisses you again. This kiss is messier than the last as he sucks on your tongue and pulls back to trail his lips down your neck, stopping just above your pulse point and sucking hard, a gasp escaping you at the pleasurable sensation.

“Mine,” he grunts against your throat, sinking his teeth into a new patch of skin and sucking there, too, without a doubt leaving some form of mark behind. “All fucking mine.” he repeats, clutching your hips tighter and dragging you up his leg and closer to him, lips parting from your neck with a loud, wet pop and connecting with yours eagerly. “Gonna fucking ruin you, princess.”

“Hae—” you barely get the first syllable of his name out before he’s sealing his mouth over yours again, fingers creeping into the kiss to pry your mouth open.

“Open,” he mutters, brows furrowed in concentration. When you oblige, he taps your tongue impatiently until you let it hang out of your mouth, Haechan sucking in a deep breath as he eyes you appreciatively. Without any warning or preamble, Haechan spits directly onto your tongue, and you whimper, voice cracking slightly. “Swallow. I’m gonna do it again.” You swallow his saliva, the extra moisture in your mouth jarring but not unwelcome, and return to your previous pose of your mouth open with your tongue hanging out.

He grins and leans in again, hovering over your waiting tongue as he drops a long, clear string of saliva from his puckered lips down to your mouth. “Don’t swallow.” He pulls back from you slightly and pushes his middle and ring finger into your mouth, the cool silver of his ring catching your taste buds as he thrusts his fingers in and out of your mouth, gliding them against your tongue to collect as much wetness as he can. “Good girl,” he coos, pleased, and you’re embarrassed by the rush of warmth between your legs that appears at the praise. “Need them nice and wet for you.”

Not wasting a minute, he snakes his slick, spit-covered fingers past the band of your underwear and starts to stroke over your folds, digits gliding amongst your arousal with embarrassing ease.

“You’re a mess down here,” he remarks, eyes alight with glee and something wild, primal as he teases you. “You like me that much? Hm?” He seems not to need an answer as he grins cockily at you, eyes scanning your face intently to drink in your every reaction to his touch, no matter how small. He trails his fingers up, up, up until he’s brushing the underside of your clit, and you jolt, flinching away.

“Haechan, that’s sensitive—”

“I know, baby,” he coos. “That’s exactly why I’m doing it.” With the hand not currently in your underwear, he laces his fingers with yours, the back of his hand pressed against the palm of your own, and trails your linked hands down your body to join his other hand in your underwear. “Show me,” he rasps, and you blink at him, too far gone to fully understand exactly what he means. “Show me how you do it when you’re alone—when you think of me.”

Cheeks blazing, you realize you’re in no position to refuse, so you guide his hand into massaging your clit in circles, your abdomen tensing reflexively whenever his fingers graze the sensitive underside of your clit.

“Talk to me, baby.” he urges gently, and you whine in protest, the fire in your face increasing nearly tenfold. “Wanna hear that pretty voice tell me how you touch your little pussy.”

“I just rub it in circles like this,” you mumble, voice slightly husky with desire, and the shift doesn’t go unnoticed, if the intensifying of Haechan’s gaze means anything.

“You don’t go inside?” he asks softly, and you shake your head.

“Doesn’t feel good when I do it,” you whimper, and he sucks in air sharply, swearing under his breath as he watches your face twist in pleasure. It’s all too much for you, having his undivided attention on you like this, and you look away, a shudder traveling through your body as another climax approaches.

“Look at me,” he coaxes, and you reluctantly oblige, pleading eyes locking on his as your peak gets closer by the second. “Only look at me.”

“Okay,” you agree, the last syllable coming out like more of a squeak, and he smiles brilliantly, the hand not pleasuring you slipping out of your underwear and lifting your shirt up to reveal your breasts in your thin, lacy light blue bra. Leaning down, he wraps his lips around one of your nipples through the fabric and starts to suck, tongue swirling around the stiffening bud so wetly that his saliva starts to darken the fabric, the warmth of his spit seeping through the fabric.

He sucks at your nipples with an almost ferocity, alternating breasts like he can’t get enough of either, and his hand snakes around your back to unclasp your bra, Haechan pushing the garment out of the way as soon as it’s loose and latching onto your nipple with a low groan of satisfaction.

As he flicks your nipple back and forth with his tongue, his fingers stroke you closer and closer to your high until you’re so close you can practically taste the sweet, heady feeling of ecstasy. “Show me what you sound like when you cum, baby.”

“Oh—shit—oh, my God,” you hiss as your eyes screw shut tight, pleasure coursing through your body as your orgasm travels through your system. “Feels so good,” you whimper, and he hums in agreement.

“Say my name, baby.”

“Haechan—” you moan wantonly, and he lets out a noise somewhere between a groan and a growl as he tugs at your nipple with his teeth.

He doesn’t stop attending to your breasts until he’s certain he’s milked every last second of bliss from your body, alternating between sucking and flicking and swirling his tongue around the buds until you go limp, your body slumping against the wall for support.

Finally, he pulls his arousal-coated fingers from your underwear, trailing them over your bottom lip before pushing the digits into your mouth to suck.

You do so with an embarrassing amount of eagerness, and are just as surprised as Haechan when he pulls his fingers from your mouth and you whine in protest.

His brows shoot up into his hairline and you feel heat blazing furiously in your cheeks as he regards you with a mix of surprise and an expression that looks close to impressed.

“You like to suck, yeah?” he murmurs, and you nod hesitantly. Something flashes in his dark eyes, and he grins. “Wanna suck something bigger?”

Hesitant but undoubtedly excited, you nod, and he wets his lips before setting about unbuckling his belt and opening his jeans.

As he does, you slowly sink to your knees, and when he looks up from his pants to see you kneeling before him, he lets out a loud swear that you fear might blow your cover.

As you stare in awe at his impressive size, you realize you’re less worried about getting caught than you are about having to stop. He watches you watch him with amusement and fascination, but the undercurrent of desire runs strong as he clicks his tongue to get your attention.

You look up at him, and he licks his lips, exhaling a small puff of air before wrapping a hand around his base.

“This is the prettiest sight I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he praises, and you smile, heat rising to your cheeks once more. Lowering himself slightly, he cups your breasts, pressing them together and grunting, “I’m gonna fuck these one day. But now?” he says, releasing them and stroking your chin affectionately. “I’m gonna fuck this pretty mouth.”

“You ever suck someone off, baby?” he asks in a low voice, and you shake your head, making his eyes slide shut in bliss as he squeezes himself harder. “Fuck, I’m your first?”

“Yes,” you mumble shyly, and he coos affectionately at you, leaning down slightly to cup your chin with his free hand.

“Remember when you were sucking that little lollipop the other day?” he asks, and you nod. “It’s kind of like that. Use your tongue, and the wetter it is, the better.”

You nod carefully and sit forward, letting your jaw drop open.

“Fuck, baby. Tongue out for me?” he grunts, and you oblige, letting your tongue drop out of your mouth and lie flat for him. “So good, baby, just like that,” he encourages, leaning forward and guiding the head of his cock into your mouth.

It feels strange but not unwelcome, and you suck gently at the head of his cock, more focused on using your tongue to explore the intrusion in your mouth. Based on the way Haechan’s breathing shallows and quickens, you suspect you’re doing a pretty good job.

“Baby, you’re so good at this,” he groans, his head tipping back before it snaps back up as he seemingly realizes he’d rather watch you. “Mouth looks so pretty wrapped around my cock like that.”

You can only manage a whimper as you boldly press forward, taking more of his length into your mouth, and he sucks in a sharp breath as you swirl your tongue around his length before tentatively flicking it over the slit in the head of his cock. He groans weakly and, emboldened, you do it again, Haechan letting out a delicious little grunt that spurs you to kick it up another notch.

You start to bob your head, doing your best to alternate between bobbing and licking, and Haechan shudders deeply, his hand releasing the rest of his cock and moving to cup the back of your head, fingers slipping into your hair.

“Just like that—fuck—” he hisses, biting his lip as he watches you suck him off, skill increasing with every movement. When you push forward a bit too suddenly, eager to impress him, you choke briefly on his length, throat constricting slightly as your gag reflex activates slightly. “Oh, shit—”

Despite the slight ache to the back of your throat, you keep sucking, moving forward slower this time to allow your throat time to adjust to his size. When you massage the underside of his tip with your tongue, wet muscle gliding over the ridge of skin, he moans your name and it’s one of the most rewarding sounds you think you’ve ever heard.

“So good,” he pants as you bob your head up and down, and his length twitches in your mouth, giving you a hint that he’s close. “Gonna cum, baby.”

You move your head faster, sucking his length to the best of your ability with all the tricks you just learned, and his fingers grip your hair tightly as he spills into your mouth, his hips sluggishly thrusting forward as he shallowly fucks your mouth.

“You,” he grunts, helping you to your feet so you’re face to face and kissing you deeply, “are a fast little learner.” His tongue slips between your lips and he explores your mouth eagerly, licking at your tongue and inner cheeks as you whimper, dizzied by the fervor of his kisses.

“Baby,” he mumbles into the kiss, the urgency in his voice waking you up slightly, “I wanna eat you out. Can I taste you, princess?” When you nod, he grins brilliantly. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

He drops to his knees and slides his hands up from your ankles, hands slipping under your skirt to caress your hips. Pulling your underwear off, he drapes one of your legs over his shoulder, warm, slender fingers spreading apart your folds to get a better look at you.

When you whine softly in embarrassment, he shushes you gently, murmuring, “I just want to admire you for a second, baby, please?” He ducks his head under your skirt and sucks in a sharp breath when he’s met with the sight of your core, folds glistening with your arousal. “Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen,” he breathes in awe, and before you can reply, his mouth is on you, upper lip resting just above your clit as his tongue strokes along your folds indulgently.

“Oh, my God,” you whisper, stumbling back slightly to lean against the wall behind you. Haechan moves with you fluidly, massaging your clit with his tongue as his fingers clutch your thighs, kneading the flesh with greedy, rough movements.

Tongue moving downwards towards your entrance, he prods the tip of it against your hole, chuckling when you jolt and squirm under his actions. “Don’t be shy, baby, I just want to taste.”

You nod even though he can’t see you, and he must be able to tell, because his tongue pushes forward, slowly breaching your entrance. You suck in a loud breath as his tongue delves further into you, occasionally coming out to slurp up the arousal dripping from your hole.

“Tastes so good, baby,” he moans, his nose rubbing against your clit as he slowly starts to move his tongue in and out inside of you. The feeling is strange but amazing, a slightly ticklish element to the pleasure you’re receiving as he tongue-fucks you.

Slurping loudly and moaning even louder, Haechan loses himself in your core, alternating between tongue-fucking you and licking at your folds and clit, leaving sloppy wet kisses that make your mind spin.

“Yeah, you like that?” he grunts, sucking at your clit hard before slipping his tongue out to stroke the sensitive underside of the sensitive bud. “You like when I kiss your pretty pussy? Hm? Do you like it when I make out with your sweet little pussy?”

“Yes,” you whimper, fingers clutching at his head over your skirt. When you get a good grip on him, you start to pull him closer, wanting more of his touch.

“Always so good—so shy and innocent.” Haechan murmurs, words slightly muffled from his oral ministrations on your pussy. “Now look at you; look how bad you’re being.”

“Haechan, please,” you breathe, and he turns his head to suck at your inner thighs, no doubt leaving a mark or two in his wake.

“Wanna see just how bad I can make you be.” he coos before surging forward to lap at your core eagerly, losing himself once more in the taste of you. “Fucking delicious, baby, you taste so good for me.”

He sucks and licks and kisses—even nibbles a bit—until your legs are shaking and your grip on his hair is iron-clad. You briefly consider the extremely compromising position someone might find you in if one of your friends walked down the hall and are surprised to find that not only do you not care, but there’s even a smidge of excitement when you think about getting caught like this, with Haechan’s head under your skirt and your breasts exposed.

“Haechan, I’m—I think I’m gonna—” you pant out, and he nods fervently, tongue slipping out of your entrance to flick your clit back and forth rapidly, a sharp whine slipping from you.

“Cum for me, baby—cum all on my tongue.” he urges, pulling you closer as he feverishly laps at your clit and entrance, shaking his head from side to side rapidly to run his tongue along your core back and forth. “That’s it, pretty girl, just let go.” he purrs, coaxing your climax out of you, and you do just that, letting the coil wound tight in your abdomen snap and letting the pleasure flood through your body.

“Haechan—” you whimper, and he hums soothingly as his tongue massages your clit once more, thoroughly milking your orgasm for all its worth. When the trembling of your legs has calmed down slightly and you’ve started to breathe normally once more, he pops his head out from under your skirt and winks up at you, chin and lips covered in your arousal.

“You’re addicting, baby; could eat your pussy for hours.” he says as he rises to his feet. A look downwards grants you the sight of his erection, fully hard once more, and you swallow thickly before looking up at him only to see that he’s already watching you with a small grin on his face. “Think you can handle one more?”

You’re nodding before you even realize it, and Haechan beams at you, drawing closer and closer until you’re flat against the wall.

Nudging your legs apart, he settles between them and aligns his tip with your entrance, looking up from where your bodies meet to your face.

“Ready, baby?” he asks, and you nod carefully, eyes drifting back down from his face to where the thick head of his length presses against your core. “Good girl,” he breathes before pushing into you slowly, covering your mouth with his palm as you gasp out loudly. “Baby, they’ll catch us if you keep making noise like that.”

“S-Sorry,” you stammer, but it’s a muffled apology given that Haechan’s hand is still firmly clasped over your mouth. “So full,” you whisper in awe, and he chuckles lowly in your ear, lips pressing to the spot just behind your lobe.

“Feel so tight around me, baby,” he grunts, his labored breathing in your ear telling you that he’s just as affected as you are. “So fucking good—”

“Haechan, move,” you whisper urgently as he bottoms out in you, and he obliges, pulling out to the tip and pushing into you again. A loud whoosh of air escapes your lungs, and he sucks your earlobe into his mouth, making you let out a loud whimper that would have been much louder had Haechan’s hand not muffled it.

“I’m starting to think you want to get caught.” Haechan murmurs with a smile on his lips as he kisses along your jaw and moves his hand to kiss you.

“Mm—! No, I don’t—” you insist through your cries of pleasure, and he shakes his head with a taunting grin.

“Yes, you do,” he teases. “You want all our friends to come in this hallway and see me fucking you like the perfect little fuckdoll I always knew you could be.”

“Hae–chan—” you stutter, tiny noises leaving you with every powerful thrust of his hips. He’s so good, so big and thick, and he’s filling you up just right and hitting all the right places, and it becomes too much very quickly, an overwhelming amount of pleasure rushing through your body as he fucks into you. If it couldn’t get worse for you, he reaches between you two and his fingers find your clit, rubbing it in quick circles just like you showed him earlier. “Fuck—stop—too much—”

“Doesn’t that feel good, baby?” he coos, shifting himself to angle his hips into you just right so that every snap of his hips sends his tip fucking directly into your g-spot.

You feel warmth behind your eyes, the telltale pricking at the corners that you know all too well, and the first tear drops before you can wipe it away, another tear following after that as the pleasure all but consumes you.

“Aw, baby, don’t cry, it feels good,” he consoles you, reaching up with his free hand to wipe your tears away.

“So good—too good—” you babble, and he laughs at that, brows furrowing at the end as you clench around him.

“It can’t be too good, baby—you’re not making sense anymore.” he says with a playful lilt, and you whimper, more tears falling as you sniffle pathetically. “Fuck, you’re so pretty when you cry.”

“Wanna cum—Haechan, please let me cum—” you beg, and his movements stutter, Haechan looking at you in surprise.

“Yeah? Baby wants to cum?” he grunts, eyes squeezing shut for a moment as your walls flex around him again. “Fuck, I love when you do that—feels so good—cum for me, baby.”

Not needing to be told twice, you promptly fall apart around him with a messy string of swears and “please” and utterances of Haechan’s name as your nails dig into his forearm, making him wince slightly. You’re sure you look a mess, eyes wet and glossy as tears stream down your cheeks, but Haechan’s drinking in your appearance like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Baby—I’m close—fuck—” Haechan grunts. “Gonna cum—where do you want it?”

“Want it inside of me, please—” you croak weakly, and he lets out a sound that’s a mix between a smug chuckle and a moan.

“Can’t believe you were skittish as a mouse just the other day, and now you’re begging for my cum. Want me to fill you up?” he pants, hips driving into yours with reckless abandon.

“Please—” you whimper, and he swears under his breath.

“Fuck—take it all, baby,” he urges, hips pressing into yours as he buries himself in you and empties his load. “It’s all for you,” he says breathlessly as his length twitches inside of you.

He stays inside of you for a moment, both of you attempting to catch your breath, before he slowly pulls out, tucking himself back into his pants and helping you fix your skirt back into place. To your confusion, he hooks his fingers in your underwear, pulling the thin, arousal-soaked fabric down and off your legs.

“Um…” you start, and Haechan looks over at you, brows raised expectantly. “Those are mine,” you state, pointing at the fabric in his fist.

“And now,” he hums, bringing them to his face and inhaling deeply, eyes sliding shut in bliss just in time to miss your scandalized expression. “They’re mine. C’mon; you should use the bathroom.”

He loops his fingers around yours, other hand stuffing your underwear in his back pocket as he leads you to the bathroom.

When the door closes behind you, you sit down on the toilet with slightly shaky legs, taking a moment to think about everything that just occurred.

You would have never in a million years thought that you’d have sex with Haechan, let alone in the hallway—let alone, with your friends in the very next room. However, as you think over the events that just transpired, your body is filled with a warm thrum of satisfaction, and you can’t seem to find an ounce of regret.

“Girl, where the hell were you?!” Karina exclaims, fussing over you as soon as you reappear in the living room. “We’ve been texting and calling for ages!”

“Oh,” you mumble, pulling your phone from the little pocket in your skirt. “It’s been on Do Not Disturb,” you explain sheepishly, and Karina rolls her eyes hard.

“Don’t do that again. You had us worried sick. What were you even doing for so long?”

“Um… well, Haechan and I,” you start, casting a side glance to the couch where Haechan sits and hesitating slightly when you see that he’s watching you intently, not an ounce of shame in his expression. “We hooked up.” you say finally, straightening your back slightly and standing up taller.

Yeri’s jaw drops. “About damn time.” she remarks, and you narrow your eyes at her.

“Hush, you.” you huff, looking over at where Haechan sits once more. He locks eyes with you and grins, patting the empty spot next to him and wiggling his eyebrows playfully, and you smile, looking away from him to address your bewildered friends. “I’ll explain everything later—”

“Yeah, yeah, just go, girl.” Karina chuckles. “He’s waiting,” she sing-songs, and you elbow her slightly before shooting them a bright smile and a small wave and making your way to sit next to Haechan.

When you sit down, Haechan drapes his arm around you on the back of the couch, and you can feel the heat creeping to your cheeks.

“So,” he says carefully, taking a hit of his pen and exhaling slowly before he continues, “I know this is a little backwards of me, but… do you wanna go out sometime? Like, on a date?”

“I’d like that,” you reply with a bashful smile, and he grins, relieved.

“Great. Now in the meantime,” he says, looking pointedly towards the hallway before looking back at you expectantly, “I have a nice ass TV, snacks, and a strong ass edible with your name on it in my room. You down?”

You don’t even hesitate. “I’m down.” you agree, smile widening, and he nods, satisfied. He stands from the couch and offers you his hand, which you take as he pulls you to your feet.

As you trail after him towards his room, fingers still locked with his, you can’t help but notice the familiar peek of fabric sticking out of his back pocket, and your eyes widen in alarm.

“Haechan!” you whisper loudly, and he looks back at you with raised brows. “My, um, underwear is sticking out of your pocket.”

“So?” he answers simply, and you pause, brain buffering for a moment.

“So?”

“Yeah. No one knows it’s your underwear but you and me,” he points out as you reach his bedroom door. He swings it open and gestures for you to enter first, head dipping down to your ear as you pass by. “So it’s our little secret.”

“Oh,” you mumble, thinking it over. “Okay.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he says encouragingly, guiding you to his bed and gesturing for you to sit down. “Now, what do you want to watch?”

“Uh, we can watch Family Guy,” you suggest, and he looks at you, pleasant surprise written on his handsome features, before he nods and picks up the TV remote.

“Good choice,” he praises, sitting down beside you against the headboard of his bed. “Perfect show to play in the background while we make out.”

“Oh—” you stammer, blinking in surprise, and he snorts, eyes fond as he scans your bashful demeanor.

“I’m kidding.” he assures you, and you can’t help but frown slightly. Unfortunately for you, this doesn’t go unnoticed by Haechan, and he chuckles. “You wanted to make out, didn’t you?”

“A little bit,” you mumble, and he grins, leaning in closer to you.

“That can be arranged.” he murmurs, still smiling as his lips meet yours.

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