#I never used to get bored I didn't think i could

[percivaltheknight]

Yeah, this says it so fucking well.

I have some big feelings about this entire thing. As a trans man, and as someone who was raised in a very gendered parenting heavy culture.

As much as my mom claims to not care about gender stereotypes, there's so many things she's said or done or expected from me, that she expected to see, that she prepared to see in her growing Girl Child, that she never got. And it shocked and annoyed her every time, because I wasn't following the Rules TM.

And my dad was always the type to keep his opinions to himself, but it's clear to see that he's always been a very firm believer in gender roles and stereotypes.

This created a very awkward environment for my brother and I. My brother who liked sewing and crocheting and origami, who hated the fixing and yard work that dad expected him to learn how to do. My brother who's now teaching himself how to cook, who buys himself cookbooks, because my parents never took the time to teach him anything besides how to turn on a grill.

And then me, who was dragged to knitting circles by my mom and grandma, who said, "it's good for you to learn a craft" but ignored all my interest in other things, because clearly those aren't Real Interests. Me who learned anyways, and then taught my little brother, because he wanted to be involved but was never brought with. Me who learned chess so I could play with my dad, who always said no, not today, but was always disappointed when my bro showed no interest. Me who borrowed my dad's sword art books, and his castle books, and toddled after him to his fencing clubs and through the hardware store and into his work shed to see what he was doing, who listened for hours when he'd tell me about medieval culture and building techniques and weapons and armor and knights, who watched all of the documentaries with him long after mom and my little bro got bored and wandered off to do other things.

And my dumbass parents were surprised that I named myself after a knight from arthurian legend when I came out as trans.

And at the same time, while my brother is teaching himself how to sew and how to cook and is making crafts and knitting, because he enjoys those things, they ask, "why didn't you tell us you wanted to learn?" and we both just sit there and share a look, because really? Where have you even been? Were you paying attention at all while you were raising us, or were you just on autopilot for 18 years?

I mean, yeah, there are still things we like that belong in the Assigned Gender Category. My bro likes his tools, and he's always been proud of his skill with computers and videogames. And I do like crocheting, and cooking, and makeup, now that i've found my own way of doing it. But those aren't things we like because we're supposed to like them. Those are just things we like.

But I think I figured out why I hated pink and purple so much as a kid. When every birthday and christmas present you get is the same color that you've never shown interest in before, and when everything in your room is the same bright happy shade of Something Someone Else Likes, you tend to cringe at the sight of it.

Gendered parenting is so weird. As a little kid I was a total daddy's girl, I was told I would always try to sneak into the garage, I was always very interested in everything he was doing and would follow him around while he was working, but while my family was never the type to outright say "you can't do that because you're a girl", they simply didn't entertain the idea that I could possibly be interested in cars. Then when my little brother was born, it was just assumed he would become a mechanic like our dad because he was a boy. Even though he, unlike me, didn't like being in the garage much and wasn't all that interested in what dad was doing. Once he got to a certain age, dad started making him help and would drag him away from his actual interests for it, which lead to a lot of arguing and not much actual learning.

Gendered expectations sort of create doubles of children. There's the real child with their actual personality, interests and behaviors, and then there's the Gender Child.

My real brother hated soccer and team sports. The Gender Child that existed only the minds of the adults in his life needed to play soccer because that's what a Boy Child does.

Growing up, I always felt like adults didn't actually know me as a person and they weren't interested in getting to know me. Because they felt they'd already learned everything there was to know about me when they were told "it's a girl".

When I talk about how I never got gifts I actually liked from my relatives (to this day I still don't like getting gifts that aren't something I picked out myself), it isn't actually about the gifts themselves. I don't even remember them. What I do remember is the feeling of being given gifts that were seemingly not bought with the real me in mind. They were for the Girl Child™️ version of me. The me that adults wanted me to be, not who I actually was.

[jillsandwhichs]

Midnight

Chapter 8 to Joel Miller x Reader Smutshot Collection

Masterlist

Pairing: F!Reader x Joel Miller

Summary: You are studying at your friend Sarah's house and you get to meet her dad, Joel Miller. Later that evening, Sarah heads to bed and you crash on her couch, continuing to study. However, that studying is soon interrupted when Mr. Miller decides to strike up a convo with you—one that turns into something much more

Status of your guy's relationship in this one shot: Acquainted/Hookup

WC: 4.8k

Type: NSFW

Warnings: Age gap, Making out, Dirty talk, Breast play, Protected P in V, Riding, Spanking, Minor Dom!Joel, Degradation kink (Not too major but it is present) and Choking

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

As your friend Sarah parked her car, she cleared her throat and opened the driver's side door. You opened the passenger door and got out, grabbing your backpack and slinging it across your shoulder, keeping it secure in that spot. You closed the door and as you did, you heard the sound of Sarah locking her 2010 Bentley. Her dad, Joel, who you are about to meet for the first time, bought it for her when she turned sixteen.

She is now twenty-one and you're nineteen. You two go to College together. She majors in Geology whereas you are a Psychology major. You two couldn't be more different with what career paths you want to go down but the two of you have bonded beautifully nonetheless. Yet despite being so close, you've never been to her place. It's either your apartment or at the local library. For once though, she invited you to her house which is in the suburbs of downtown Austin TX.

Sarah used her key to open the front door to the house and stepped aside, allowing you to enter first. The house was cozy looking just from the area you first entered in. It smelt nice too though you couldn't quite pin down what the scent could be exactly. You took off your Doc Martins and hung your jacket up on the rack as Sarah did the same, removing her Converse and tossing her jacket on the floor. Of course, you plan to have as good a set of manners as you can.

"Just through here, we can study at the dining table." Sarah said softly, removing her backpack from her back and holding it close. You followed behind her and as you did, you saw a tall, muscular yet older man standing in the kitchen. You recognized him too, it's her father, Joel. He's definitely much taller than you expected and looks a bit older too. He has to be in his late thirties at best. Sarah was clearly surprised to see her dad as she set her bag down and ambled over to him.

"Dad, I didn't think you'd be home so early," She glanced at the clock, "It's only seven." Joel set his soda can down and looked at the digital oven clock and nodded. "Yeah, boss let me and your uncle off early today. How was class?" He asked her, his voice thick with a southern accent. Honestly, it was pretty attractive. You silently took a seat at the table as they continued to converse. "Fine. Boring. I just want to get to the good stuff, you know?" "I know baby but you have to be patient." Joel snickered.

Sarah nodded and pulled two water bottles from the fridge, tossing one to you and keeping the other one in hand. "You goin' introduce me to your friend over here?" Joel pointed at you and gandered over at Sarah. "Right..." Sarah introduced you, then introduced him to you. "And this is my amazing dad, Joel." Sarah said sarcastically yet lovingly as she took a seat across from you. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Miller." You said with a smile. He snorted and shook his head. "Call me Joel."

Joel. Right. You probably sounded stupid by being so formal. You chuckled and nodded. "Okay." You murmured. Joel turned back to face Sarah. "I'll be up in my room so uh, if either of ya's need me, just come and knock." "Okay dad." Sarah nodded and began to take stuff out of her bag. "It was nice to meet ya." Joel stated to you. "Nice to meet you too, Joel." You smiled. He then inched off towards the staircase before leaving the downstairs area.

Before you knew it, you and Sarah had all of your study supplies out. Everything from your laptop to notebooks, you two were prepared. Finals are coming up and there is absolutely no way you plan to fail any of them, especially for you Psychology 101 class. You have studied and worked your ass off day and night for that class. You'll be damned if you get anything lower than a 90%.

"This class is kicking my ass." "Which one?" "Advanced Geology studies. I can't wait to become a paleontologist but working towards it is a bitch." Sarah laughed and rubbed her temple. "I get it. I am beyond excited to become a psychiatrist but the last thing I want to be doing right now is studying. I'd much rather be out getting drunk and eating junk food." You snorted. Sarah nodded. She couldn't agree more.

You two have gone to your fair share of College parties. They all suck, in all honesty, but they are fun. You and Sarah always go to them together. The last time you guys went to one was about a month ago so a break would be pleasant. And, it was like Sarah read your mind. "If we finish studying early, I can order us some dinner." "That would be fantastic." You said as you grabbed out extra notes from your backpack.

"Let's get to it then." Sarah groaned before putting that black gel pen to paper. You instead used your laptop, at least for this studying session.

The clock starts now.

-

Your fingers were beginning to cramp up. All of that typing and writing does that to you. Just by looking at Sarah, you could tell she was exhausted. The only thing keeping her awake now was the fact food was right in front of her. You two decided to not wait and ended up ordering Chinese about an hour into studying. It's now almost ten at night and Sarah is clearly spent. Occasionally, she takes a bite of her noodles and coconut chicken but other than that, she's staring off into space.

"You good?" You giggled and used your chopsticks to get a piece of sesame chicken into your needy mouth. "Yes, yes I am." Sarah rubbed her eyes and took a drink of her water. "I am dropping out of College." She joked and took another bite of her food. You laughed and nodded. "I feel ya... Are you going to go to sleep then?" "Here in a bit, most definitely. As for you, you can either crash on my floor or on the couch—whichever you prefer."

You thought about that for a moment. Both are fine options. Though, you'll probably sleep down here so you don't disturb her whilst you continue to study.

Slurping up some more noodles, you sighed and swallowed them. "I'll crash down here, I plan to study more, so." "More!? You are insane." Sarah's eyes went wide and she rolled them playfully. "I don't play around when it comes to finals. This noggin has to acquire as much knowledge as possible." You giggled and stretched out your fingers, trying to release them from the uncomfortable feeling of cramps and stiffness. "If you say so, props to you." Sarah stood up and closed her takeout box.

"I'm spent for the night, I'll continue in the morning." She stated as she ambled over to the fridge. She opened it up and set her Chinese food inside of it to save for later. You figured you'll do the same once you get full. "I'm heading to bed girl. If you need anything, help yourself, nothing is off limits." Sarah assured you. As she walked past you, she patted your head playfully and grabbed her water. "Goodnight!" You said kindly, waving to her. "Nighty night." Were her last words.

A minute or so later, you heard her bedroom door shut and you released a sigh. Now you are all alone. It isn't so bad though. You decided you'd finish up your food then sit on the couch to study, that'll be much more comfortable.

-

You found yourself on the couch shortly after. Your laptop rested in your lap and you had your earbuds in. The song playing was Dreams by Fleetwood Mac—one of your favorites. As you listened to a classic tune, you scrolled on YouTube, finding videos to benefit your study sesh. You found quite a few and added them to your 'Studying' playlist in which you use very often.

Tonight went well. You had a good time with Sarah despite the boring studying, you got yummy food which you devoured and you even met her dad after all this time. Joel doesn't seem bad at all. He's kind, welcoming and well, hot. Of course, you'd never make your attraction towards him obvious, he's your best friends dad! But the moment you saw him, your stomach did flips and you had to hold back a grin.

You shook the thoughts from your head and went back to focusing. You sighed deeply and began to type in a new docs. You've typed out four different ones just in this singular night. It's been rough but you know it's insanely worth it in the long run. You are so proud of how far you've come in College-it is truly amazing.

As you typed more and more, you must've not noticed the six foot man traverse down the stairs and say hello to you until you glanced up and saw him standing in front of you, a tallboy in hand. "Oh." You muttered and paused your music, removing your ear buds and looking up at him. "Hey, Mr. Miller-I mean, Joel." "Hello." He snickered and sat down beside you, stretching and letting out a low groan. You honestly thought he was sleeping.

"What're you studyin'?" You heard Joel ask. You cleared your throat and turned your laptop more to face him. "Just studying for my finals-currently for my Biochem class." "Biochemistry, huh? That your major?" "Absolutely not." You snorted. You'd rather shoot yourself, actually. "I major in Psychology." "Ah, psychology. Pretty sure Sarah wanted to major in that at one point or another." "She did. She's good with Geology though." You stated and paused your studying session to just speak with this man.

Joel sipped his beer and cleared his throat, the cold, refreshing drink clearing it up naturally too. Joel gandered at the coffee table then at your hands. "You drink?" "Oh uhm..." You stuttered. You're nineteen, he realizes that, right? You do drink from time to time but why would you admit that? "I'm not dumb." Joel snickered. "You want a beer or is wine more your thing?" "Beer." You stated plainly. "Atta girl." Joel nudged your knee and stood up, stumbling over to the fridge.

He grabbed out a beer from the fridge and walked back over to you, setting it on the coffee table and gazing at you. "How old are ya?" "Oh, I'm nineteen." "Young. Don't let life slip past ya." Joel snickered and chugged some of his beer. As he did, his blue work shirt slightly lifted up, offering you a glance of his pudgy stomach. You bit your lower lip and looked away, staring at your laptops bright screen. You can't even deny that seeing his stomach was enticing.

You grabbed the beer and opened it up. The crackling sound of cracking it open was satisfying. You brought it up to your lips and took a sip. It was strong but not hardcore, you could handle it. It was bland though, definitely not the best beer you've had but hey, it's from an older man's fridge, what else can you really expect? Joel laughed when seeing you drink it. Admittedly, he was surprised you handled it with grace.

Joel chuckled after seeing you drink the beer so casually. It isn't everyday he sees a girl of your age and size handle a beer straight like that. Admittedly, he found it rather attractive.

"Surprised you ain't out yet, I heard Sarah crash upstairs not too long ago." "Yeah, I'm not very tired yet. I'm usually awake until midnight anyways." "Midnight? As a College student? You're crazy." Joel teased and drank more of his beer. Everyone says that. You should head to bed earlier but you're simply rarely tired until later at night. You set your beer down and closed your laptop (You can resume your work later, when you aren't so... Distracted...).

You had changed before sitting on the couch. You're wearing something rather... Revealing? It's a pair of lacey shorts with a matching top which definitely shows off your cleavage. You hope Joel doesn't mind or doesn't even notice overall. When you peeped over at him, he was focused on his beer and whatever else he was thinking about. That's a good sign.

"So uhm, Joel, what do you do for work?" You decided to make conversation so the tension wasn't so evident. "Contractor. It's basically construction and carpeting mixed together." Joel stated. "I see. That's a tough job." "When ya start, yeah, then you get used to it and it's nothin'." He established. Seems true enough but that can go for really any job, right? You're such becoming a psychiatrist will have a similar outcome.

"With your degree, what do you plan to become?" "Psychiatrist." "Study the human brain, I see. Bet if ya studied mine, you'd either be terrified or disgusted." Joel laughed and put his beer down. "Why's that?" "An old man like myself ain't got nothin' innocent up in the brain." He cackled and undid his belt, tossing it off to the side to let his stomach have more space. An innocent act yet, your brain immediately shifted to something more seducing.

Guess a young mind isn't so different then.

You giggled and rested your head in your hand. "What makes you think a young mind is any different?" "All College students have similar things up in their heads. Work, homework, alcohol and sex... That ain't nothin' darlin'." Darling? What an odd thing to randomly call you. You felt your stomach flip at the sudden petname and the eye contact he decided to initiate. You looked down and bit your lip. "You aren't wrong." You snorted.

Sex. That's on your mind often.

"So what's on your mind then? Murder? How to buy cocaine?" You joked. "Sometimes." He teased back. "What's really on your mind?" You questioned him in a low, enticing tone-it wasn't even intentional either, it just sort of... Came out. "Right now?" "Sure." "Money, takin' a shower and sex." You laughed at his response. Seems like the average manly reply. Money, taking a shower and sex. Sex. Sex is on his mind right now?"

Joel smirked and looked you in the eyes. "How 'bout you?" "Well, let's see... Studying, Christmas break because that'll be heavenly and uhh, sex." You plainly said. You bit your lip afterwards and adjusted your seating position. Joel looked you up and down and nodded. "Sex for you too then, huh?" Joel let out a breathless snicker. You nodded and fluttered your eyes at him. Shit. Are you really seducing your best friend's dad? You are a total bitch.

You felt Joel's hand slither to your thigh. You breathed in a sharp breath and looked down, noticing his hand trailing upwards. It felt so good. It made your stomach twist and churn in the best ways possible. "Are you a virgin?" "No." You whispered as his hand moved closer to your pussy. It was covered by your shorts, but they have easy access. You are wet. You can feel it. You are pulsing. It's all because of this older fucking man.

"Who's the oldest guy you've fucked?" Joel was so straight forward. You cleared your throat. "I don't know... Seventeen or eighteen." You admitted. "Christ." He chuckled. "I'm almost fourty, that okay?" Joel asked. He's a man, such a man but a respectful one. The moment he saw you earlier, he could've came in his pants right then and there. You are gorgeous. He saw you and hell, if Sarah wasn't there he would've hit on you then and there.

Sarah has brought over a handful of friends and all of them were nothin' compared to you. In fact, he's never done anything with her friends. The craziest he's ever done is hookup with his brother's ex but, he'll never admit that to anybody.

As Joel's fingers inched closer to your special spot, you grabbed his hand and looked at him with an alarmed look. "What about Sarah?" "She's asleep." "I know but I can't just hookup with my friend's dad." "Yeah you can, I'm right here." Joel touched your pelvic area and earned a whimper out of you. The touch coming from him was something different. You wanted to give in and honestly, you plan to. This doesn't harm Sarah in any way, yeah? She won't even know.

You slowly let go of his hand and this gave Joel the green light. His fingers slipped passed the fabric of your shorts and you felt two of his finger tips against your damp underwear. He can most definitely feel how wet you are. "I've hardly fuckin' touched ya and you are this wet?" "Sorry." You looked down in shame. Though, Joel snickered. "Hell are you apologizing for? I think it's sexy." He said in a sexy, deep voice before he suddenly pulled you into his lap.

You straddled him and felt shivers trail down your spine. The two other boys you've been with were not this straight forward. You looked down and encased your arms around his neck, not knowing where else to put them. Joel's hands remained on your upper thighs. "Tell me," Joel began, "What is it you want?" You have no clue. You want Joel to lead the way, quite frankly. "What I want is..." You murmured before making eye contact with him. "I want you to do whatever it is you'd like to do to me." You whispered out.

A faint, hushed breath came from Joel as he heard you say that. He squeezed your thighs and looked into your alluring eyes. "Jesus Christ." You felt Joel harden beneath you. Did you seriously turn this man on even further? You're proud of yourself for that. "I want you to ride me." Joel breathed heavily and patted your ass, making you squeak. You've rode a guy, once, but you've done it. At least you won't be going into this completely blindsided.

Breathing in deeply, you nodded. "Okay." You smiled. Whilst on top of him, you leaned back and pulled your sleeping shirt off. You weren't wearing a bra beneath it-you aren't supposed to sleep in bras. Once it was off, Joel immediately latched onto your left tit. You gasped and held onto his head, your fingers trailing through his brunette hair. "Oooh fuck." You whimpered and took it.

Joel suckled and swirled all over your nipples and breasts. It felt amazing. It was a euphoric feeling. His tounge worked wonderfully around your perky breasts. All you did was caress his hair and be supporting. He pulled away and now kissed you. His lips aggressively went up against yours and you moaned, kissing him just as passionately back. This felt so surreal. Shortly after making out with you, he pulled away and went back to sucking your tits.

Autonomously, you felt yourself grinding against him. You could feel your folds becoming more and more wet. The friction of you against him, dry humping him, was enough to turn you on even more. Joel's hands held onto your thighs tighter as you continued. You've never felt this drawn to somebody before. You want your hands all over him, and his all over you. You shouldn't feel this way. This is Sarah's fucking dad! You are a total cunt for even kissing him let alone preparing to ride him.

He let go of your tits and gazed into your eyes, patting your thighs. "Here," He grunted and leaned back. Joel pulled his blue, stained work shirt over his hand and threw it onto the floor. You placed your hands on his chest and dragged them down to his jeans. His belt was already off. You reached inside his jeans and immediately felt his erection. Oh, he's hard. It was so sexy-the fact he was twitching and pulsing over you.

"Take your shorts off, I'll do this." Joel stated, beginning to mess with his pants. You nodded and stood up for just a moment, dropping down your silkly pants and leaving your pink, laced undies on. Joel finds them cute. You climbed back onto his lap as he pulled out his hard cock. It is long & girthy. You are a bit amazed, in all honesty. He's bigger than anyone you've been with. You can't wait to feel how he feels inside of you.

"Do you have a condom?" "Yeah, I do." Joel reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled one out. You were a bit confused as to why he already had one on him but you decided not to bother with it. You held onto him as he began to wrap himself up. The second that condom is on, it's game time. He pulled the rubber down... And down... And down. He's long, your mind isn't just playing tricks on you. You wonder how he'll feel once inside of your dripping cunt.

Joel's hand went to your panties and pulled them to the side. As he did that, you heard him groan. "You're fuckin' soaked. You get like this for just any guy?" "No... Not usually..." It was odd. No man has ever turned you on like this. Joel is different. He's a real man. "You're a dirty girl." He slid his index through your folds, causing you to shutter and grip onto his skin more firmly. "But you'll take my cock good, right?"

His words. The way he speaks. He's a pro. Let the water gates flood! You moaned and nodded. "Yes." "Good girl." Joel slapped your ass before gripping it and pulling you down onto his length. He gave you no time to adjust. You moaned and wrapped your arms around his neck once again, needing that closure. He was deep inside of you already. It feels... Different. You don't know if it's because he's bigger and longer or if it's because well, it's this guy.

For some reason, you have a feeling it's a mixture of both.

After testing the waters and feeling for what's best, you began to ride him. You grinded your hips back and fourth on his lap, his length teasing your inner walls. With each movement, even just the slightest, you'd earn a groan or a grunt out of Joel. "Fuck." Joel murmured, his hands squeezing your rear as you moved against him. "You're fuckin' tight." He praised you. "You spread your legs for just any guy then, huh? Dirty fuckin' girl." Joel degraded you.

Oddly enough, you found that hot.

You bit your lip and moved against him faster. Joel would occasionally spank you and you're sure there'll be red marks on both cheeks once he's done with you. It feels so good. Having this man deep within you is a pleasure and it's all yours. You moaned and tossed your head back and as you did, you felt his hand grip it and squeeze it. "Stay quiet, you hear? Don't need Sarah hearin' us." Joel stated to you. He's right.

But fuck, how can you stay quiet? This feels extraordinary. Just inside of you, you can feel his dick twitching. You're sure he hasn't had a good pussy like yours in awhile. You began to bounce on him and with each one, Joel seethed and held onto you tighter. "Look at ya, you know what you're doin'." He's right. You do. Maybe you are a whore, a slut, whatever, you don't care-just as long as he's the one calling you such names.

"Keep ridin' me like the fuckin' desperate girl you are. I saw you eye-fuckin me earlier, don't think you're slick." Well damn. You suppose he isn't stupid. You whimpered and rode him much faster & harder now. You began to mix your grinding and bouncing together, creating the ultimate pleasurable feeling. He let go of your neck and went back to holding your ass. He slapped it, hard, earning a squeak out of you. Such a good feeling this is.

You smashed your lips against his and licked his lower lip. Joel laughed and opened his mouth, allowing you to explore it. You slipped your tounge inside and smiled against his lips. The warmth of his mouth was comforting and a feeling that was only bringing you closer to the edge. His hands caressed your bum softly before spanking it once again and this time after spanking you, he began to move your hips forward, taking over.

"You've clearly been needin' this, hm? You a whore?" "No." Was all you managed you get up. Joel scoffed and kissed you again, this time moving his tongue roughly into your mouth. At the sudden kiss, you held onto him tighter. You can feel your orgasm building up, it's so very evident. He pulled away and spit drabbles off of your lips. "That right? You ain't a whore? You're sure as hell actin' like one." He then began to kiss your neck.

Those soft kisses. He planted numerous of them on the inner parts of your throat. You are so close. You're going to cum any moment now. "I feel... Joel..." You shuttered out, your body beginning to shake. "That'a girl, cum for me." With just a few more bounces and grinds, you finally hit your breaking point. You moaned loudly but Joel was quick to kiss you just to shut you up. You held onto the back of his head, pulling and tugging on his scraggly hair.

Joel held your waist in place as he began to thrust upwards. Each thrust made him realize how wrong yet right this feels/is. Fucking his own daughters best friend? Hell, what's gotten into him? At the same time however, he doesn't regret a damn thing.

One more thrust and boom, Joel's hot seed bursted into the rubber. He grunted and gripped your ass as he finished into the condom. You simply kept your head in the crook of his neck, trying to process this entire situation.

After he came down from his high, he patted your ass so you'd get off of him and you did. You plopped onto the couch and continued to breath rather heavily. That was intense, it was insane. You glanced over at Joel who simply picked his beer up and drank a big swig out of it. He's probably processing this just as you are. You don't know how to feel about all of this anyways.

He looked over at you and smirked. "Sarah don't need to know about this, yeah?" He stated as he began to fix his pants and throw his shirt back on. "Definitely." You nodded. This is your guy's little secret. "What do we do now...?" You murmured. "I'm goin' take my happy ass to bed but uh, my number is on the fridge door so if you ever need me, I'll be there." Joel winked and fixed his pants as he stood up.

That's it? He just fucked you and now leaves? Is every man like this? You scoffed and put your shirt back on. "What's the attitude for?" "Nothing. Hand me my pants." Joel leaned down and grabbed them, kneeling down and putting them past your ankles, pulling them up for you. "Don't take what we did personal, sweet thing. It was just another hookup for me, alright?" Just another hookup. Right.

You nodded, despite not agreeing. He is giving you his number so that's nice, you think? After getting fully dressed again, you sighed deeply and sat down on the couch. Joel drew himself closer to your face and planted and kiss on your cheek. "Don't ever tell anyone 'bout this, you hear?" "Mhm." You mumbled and pulled the brown blanket over you, just wanting to be covered up completely now.

He pulled away and gazed at you. "For the record, you are the best I've had in awhile." Was that meant to magically make you feel better? You snorted and rolled your eyes. "Okay then." You put plainly. He picked up his beer and began to slowly walk backwards towards the stairs. "Numbers on the fridge." Were the last words he said before he began to leave, heading back to his bedroom.

"Numbers on the fridge." You whispered to yourself and scoffed, turning off the lamp to your right and laying down on the couch. What a fucking evening this has been.

[kisshae]

ARE YOU BORED YET? ★ YU JIMIN

PREC𝒾s ｡｡ months have passed, but the memory of karina still lingers—her glance like a thorn you can't pull out. you kissed her, and now she's further away than ever, leaving you to watch from the sidelines.

parings ? ex-best friend!karina x lovesick!fem reader ft mark (nct), intak (p1h) , manon & daniela (katseye) ★ genre , wlw friends to lovers uni au fluff tiny bit of angst!!! wc 2.6k

warning(s) , kissing reader is still badly down BAD for karina.. miscommunication jealousy

read this !! I hate fruits , part 1 , sry if this is confusing I was like rushing to finish this up for my next work...

now playing ? nomad , clario

it's been months since you last saw karina—really saw her, not just passing glances in lecture halls or stolen moments across the quad. each month has left an ache in your chest, sharp and unyielding, like a wound that refuses to heal.

you'd think the ache would dull with time, that her absence might ease the weight pressing against your ribs. but it hasn't.

instead, it's only grown worse, carving out hollow spaces inside you that fill with resentment and longing in equal measure.

and then there's mark. the way you've caught them together—his easy laugh, her blond hair catching the sunlight as she leans into him like it's the most natural thing in the world.

that was supposed to be you.

you were supposed to be the one at her side, sharing inside jokes, brushing her hand with yours when no one was looking.

but you ruined it.

you kissed her.

and now, all you can do is watch from the sidelines, choking on the bitterness of your own making. the snow crunches beneath your boots as you make your way across campus, the cold seeping into your bones.

you shove your hands deeper into your coat pockets, wishing the chill in the air could match the frost biting at your heart. she's everywhere and nowhere all at once—haunting your thoughts, lingering in the periphery of your vision, but never close enough to reach.

and you can't decide what hurts more: the memory of that kiss, or the way she looks at you now, like you're a stranger.

the market is busy for a winter afternoon, the crisp air biting at your cheeks as you push through the crowd with daniela by your side. you're bundled in layers, the thick scarf around your neck almost enough to hide your face.

it's a bit of a cozy escape from the cold, all the hustle and bustle, but still, something feels off, like you're waiting for something to happen.

you and daniela split up to grab some things, and she disappears into the restroom, leaving you to wander the aisles alone. you don't think much of it until you round a corner into the fruit alley, only to stop dead in your tracks.

there she is.

karina.

but somethings different.

her blonde hair is gone—replaced by jet black strands that peek out from under her beanie. it's such a stark contrast to the karina you're used to for a second, you almost convince yourself it's someone else.

but it's her. you'd recognize the way she stands anywhere.

she's standing at the end of the aisle, inspecting a basket of oranges, her hands gloved and delicate as she picked them up one by one. for a second, you almost forget where you are, as if the world has faded away except for her.

but you snap back to reality quickly enough, your heart beating in your throat. you could just turn around, pretend you didn't see her.

you could keep walking. you could avoid this.

but your feet won't move.

karina hasn't noticed you yet. she's lost in the small world of fruit, her brow furrowed slightly as she selects the ripest orange. you could watch her for hours if you wanted, but something inside you twists at the sight. there's that familiar ache again, a tinge of jealousy in the pit of your stomach.

it's stupid, really. she doesn't even know you're here, doesn't even know much you've been struggling to get over her.

but you can't help it.

she's too perfect.

before you can think any more about it, she looks up and catches your gaze. her eyes widen slightly, her lips parting in soft surprise. then she stands up straighter, as if she's suddenly unsure of something, and she blinks—quickly, like she's trying to reset herself.

you both freeze.

the air between you feels thick, and for a moment, it's like nothing has changed.

no time. no distance, no awkward silence between you two since the kiss. it's just her and you, standing there in the midst of winter, in a fruit aisle that feels too small for all the words neither of you have said.

karina doesn't move, her hand still hovering near the oranges.

your throat tightens, and you finally manage to speak.

"hey." it sounds so casual, too flat for how you're feeling. your stomach churns as you wonder if she'll say anything at all.

"hi," karina replies, her voice almost too soft, too polite.

and just like that, you're stuck again—two people who never really knew how to talk to each other anymore.

the silence stretches, hanging between you like the cold outside. karina's eyes flicker down to the fruit in her hand, her fingers turning the orange over slowly—carefully, like it’s something delicate she might accidentally crush.

you're the same. Frozen, watching her, unable to move.

it's just an orange, but for some reason, it feels like she’s holding a part of you, inspecting it with the same quiet intensity that makes your chest tighten.

she used to do this with you. with everything. look at you like you were something worth savoring.

but now?

now she can’t even meet your eyes for more than a few seconds without looking away.

you swallow hard, fingers curling at your sides. the fruit around you—rows of apples, pomegranates, those stupid oranges—feels too sweet, too vibrant for how bitter the pit in your stomach has become.

funny. you used to love this aisle.

now, you hate it.

the memory of her lip gloss—cherry, sugary, intoxicating—lingers like a bruise. you wonder if she still wears it, if the taste of her would still remind you of something you shouldn’t want.

“didn't think I’d see you here,” she adds, fingers still turning the orange like it’s the only thing keeping her hands busy. her eyes flick up, meeting yours briefly. “you don’t usually come to this market.”

your throat feels dry. “I could say the same about you.”

karina's lips twitch, almost like she’s about to smile, but it never fully forms. “guess we’re both full of surprises.”

you shift on your feet, pretending to glance over the fruit as if this conversation isn’t the only thing grounding you right now. “yeah. I guess so.”

another stretch of silence. the kind that says everything neither of you are willing to. karina looks down at the orange again, voice softer this time. “how've you been?”

the question sinks in, slow and heavy. it feels like a trap—like she’s opening a door just enough to see if you’ll step through. “fine,” you lie. “busy, you know. classes and all that.”

she nods, but something in her expression shifts—like she doesn’t quite believe you. “right.” her eyes flicker over you, lingering just long enough to make your heart race. “you look good,” she murmurs, almost like an afterthought.

your breath catches, and for a second, you forget how to respond. “thanks,” you manage, voice tighter than you’d like. “you too.”

karina hums, her gaze softening—but before you can say anything else, daniela's voice cuts through the stillness.

“you ready to go?”

suddenly, daniela's at your side, brushing water off her coat sleeve. she glances between you and Karina with an arched brow, clearly sensing the tension but not addressing it.

karina's expression hardens just enough for you to notice.

that softness—the small, unspoken part of her that seemed like it might reach out to you again—disappears.

her eyes drop to daniela, lips pressing into a thin line as if she’s biting back words she won’t let slip.

it's subtle. barely noticeable if you weren’t so tuned into her. But you are.

and it’s enough.

karina looks back at you, and for the first time since the party, you see it—the same thing that flashed across her face when she saw you with manon.

jealousy.

she doesn’t say anything else, just holds your gaze for a lingering second too long before turning back to the fruit display, her grip on the orange tightening slightly.

you could say something.

you should. but you don’t.

daniela's arm loops through yours, tugging lightly, but you hesitate—just for a second. your eyes drift back to karina, still standing there with that orange cradled in her palm. she's not looking at the fruit anymore.

she's watching you.

for a fleeting moment, her lips part, like she's about to say something. but the words don't come. and maybe they never will.

you force a small smile, even though it doesn't quite reach your eyes. "see you later," you murmur, the words slipping out quieter than intended.

karina's gaze flickers, something unreadable crossing her face. it looks almost like regret—or maybe it's just the lighting playing tricks on you.

"yeah," she replies softly. but the way she's still watching you makes it feel like she wanted to say more. like maybe if daniela wasn't there, she would've.

but it's too late.

the carnival is alive with lights and laughter, even in the biting cold. you adjust your camera strap, exhaling a puff of frosty air as the ferris wheel looms ahead. intak and daniela are somewhere back near the food stalls, probably bickering over churros, and manon is likely laughing at both of them. you needed the space, the quiet, to lose yourself in the view from above.

but as you shuffle forward in the line, you catch sight of a familiar figure.

karina.

your heart stutters. she's standing a few spots ahead, bundled in a black coat, her hair now dark as midnight and curling slightly at the ends. there's no sign of Mark, or anyone else for that matter. she's alone.

your thoughts spiral—did they break up? you shouldn’t care. you don’t care. but the thought nags at you, unwanted and unshakable.

the line moves, and suddenly, it’s your turn. the attendant waves you forward, and as if fate had a cruel sense of humor, karina is ushered into the same car.

she hesitates for a moment before sliding in, leaving just enough room for you to follow. the bar clicks into place, trapping you both in an awkward silence as the ride jolts to life.

the city begins to unfold below, the twinkling lights reflecting in her eyes, but you can’t focus on the view. all you can think about is her. how perfect she looks, even now. how her presence makes it impossible to breathe, impossible to think.

“i'm sorry.”

the words come out of nowhere, breaking the silence like the snap of a branch. You blink, startled, meeting her gaze.

“what?”

she exhales, her breath visible in the chilly air. “i'm sorry for what happened at the party. for... pushing you away like that.” her hands fidget in her lap. “I was scared. I didn’t know how to handle it.”

your chest tightens. the memory of that night feels like a fresh wound, sharp and unhealed.

“scared of what?” you ask, your voice quieter than you intended.

karina hesitates, her eyes darting away to the lights below. “of what people would think. of what it would mean... if they saw me kissing a girl.”

the admission hits you like a punch to the gut. “so you were embarrassed?” the words tumble out before you can stop them, harsher than you meant.

her head snaps up, eyes wide. “No, I—” she bites her lip, searching for the right words. “I wasn’t embarrassed of you. I was embarrassed of myself. I wasn’t ready for people to know.”

you stare at her, the cold seeping through your gloves, but it doesn’t compare to the ache spreading through your chest. “it felt like you were.”

the ferris wheel creaks, the car swaying gently as it reaches the top. karina looks at you, her expression a mix of regret and something else you can’t quite place. “i'm sorry,” she whispers again.

and for a moment, you let yourself wonder if she means it—if she truly understands what she did to you.

the ferris wheel finally comes to a halt at the bottom, and you feel a sudden rush to get off, like if you stay in that small, enclosed space with karina any longer, you might lose control. the ride jerks to a stop, and you’re practically out of the seat before it’s even fully halted, your legs unsteady as you rush toward the exit.

the cold air hits you like a slap in the face, and you don’t stop walking—can’t stop walking. your heart is thundering, pounding against your ribs, and you need distance.

you need space. But then, you feel it. a hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you back, spinning you around. karina stands there, her expression wide, filled with sorrow, her eyes soft like she’s about to break.

you swallow, your throat dry, trying to force out words. “karina…”

she doesn’t let go, pulling you closer as if she can’t bear the distance between you any longer. her other hand comes up to cup your face, her fingers trembling slightly, but it doesn’t stop her.

you blink up at her, breath catching. “please… let go,” you whisper, a warning. “if you don’t, I might do something stupid.”

something stupid. like kiss her again.

karina's gaze flickers, and for a moment, you think she’ll pull away, but instead, she steps closer, her chest brushing yours, closing the distance. she lowers her voice, her words soft but sure.

“nothing you do could ever be stupid,” she says, her breath warm against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

her eyes search yours with an intensity that makes your heart race, as if she’s trying to find the right words, the right moment. she takes a breath, steadying herself before she says, "I couldn’t stop thinking about you after that night… about how you kissed me, how you made me feel. and I hate it, because it doesn’t fit into my world, but I can’t help it. I can’t stop wanting you.”

your breath catches in your throat, your pulse thundering in your ears. the confession hangs in the air between you, raw and vulnerable, and for a moment, you think you might explode from the weight of it all.

“I—I didn’t want to hurt you,” karina continues, her voice cracking. “but I was terrified. terrified of what everyone would think, of what it meant. I thought I could just ignore it, just bury it, but I can’t. Not anymore.”

you feel your hands tremble as you reach up, cupping her face, drawing her gaze back to yours. “so you’re not embarrassed of me?” you whisper, almost afraid to hear the answer.

her eyes soften, and she shakes her head. “no, never. I was just scared of myself. scared of what I was feeling for you.”

before you can say anything else, her lips find yours again, urgent and unrestrained, as if she’s trying to prove something to both of you. she kisses you like it’s the only thing that matters, her hand sliding to the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

when she pulls back, her voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s there, raw and open. “i'm sorry it took me so long to get here... but I don’t want to waste any more time pretending.”

the world around you seems to fade, and for the first time in months, you feel a rush of clarity. the ache, the longing, the confusion—it’s all gone, replaced by something even more overwhelming, something real.

“I don’t want to pretend either,” you say, your voice steady for the first time tonight. but even as the words leave your mouth, a thought lingers at the back of your mind—a quiet question that refuses to be ignored.

is this really it? is this the start of something new, or is it just another chapter of chaos in the story you’ve both been trapped in?

you don’t know. but for now, you choose to stay here, in this moment, with karina—hoping that it might be enough.

[moolovesyou]

thanksgiving | angus tully x reader

a/n: watching boy meets world while writing. I USED FEMININE PRONOUNS, let me know if that's something you would prefer to be vague instead!! thanks for requesting cutie patootie!! :-] lmk if u would... like a part 2 for the dance maybe?

request: "truly adore you for carrying the angus community on your back… could you maybe write something about reader and angus not getting along (only because angus is smitten & an idiot who doesn’t know what to do about it so he gives off a completely wrong impression)?"

s: your family invites the Clotfelter's for Thanksgiving dinner, meaning you have to tolerate an entire dinner with the off-putting Angus Tully.

w: cursing, female pronouns.

wc: 1.9k

"Mom. Please. I'd rather go to Alcatraz for a semester instead of have dinner with them."

"I don't understand what's wrong with the Clotfelter's." Your mom flattened the tablecloth.

"It's not necessarily all of them I have a problem with." You mumbled.

The Clotfelter's had been a family friend ever since Stanley had been introduced into the picture. Him and your dad were best friends, which meant your family was one of the first to be introduced to the new and improved Tully's turned Clotfelter's. There were countless dinners hosted that lasted hours too long. It was constantly back and forth between houses. It could've been like any other boring family event. Tolerable. Unfortunately, their son had proven to be quite the obstacle.

You don't know why Angus Tully hated you. He practically loathed you. At least, that's what it seems like. He never said it outright, but he didn't have to. Ever since the first time he came around, it was an acrobatic endeavor to have any sort of genuine prospering conversation. You would try everything. A funny anecdote. A thought-provoking question. A joint quest to the outdoors. None of the attempts amounted to anything. He would always just kind of sit in silence. It was worse when he would talk though; always accompanied by an eyeroll and a sassy huff. He was a complete mystery.

So, you weren't exactly excited for Thanksgiving dinner with them. This was the dinner of all dinners. The one that your parents would kill you for if there was an ounce of angst in your face. There was no hope stored for you. You were better off waiting for leftovers. Nevertheless, you were stuck waiting for them on the driveway.

"Oh! That's them." Your mom chirped. She walked over to you, straightening your collar.

The three of you moved aside as the Clotfelter family parked in your driveway. You took a deep breath, stuffing your nerves down with crisp cold air. The slam of the car doors lifted your head. Your parents instantly rushed over to them, causing you to reluctantly follow.

"Y/N! How are you?" Judy embraced you in a lung-crushing hug. She carried a glass platter of god-knows what.

"Hello, YN." Stanley hugged you as well. Your parents ushered them inside.

That left you and Angus standing awkwardly.

"Um. . . Hi." You spoke sheepishly. He stared at you intensely with his lips pushed together into a fine line. You could never decipher what he was thinking. Is he staring at you because you have something in your eye or because he wants to microwave you?

"Hey." Angus muttered. His height made him loom over you. He was like a socially anxious batman. He stook his hand out. You clasped his hand in a clammy, firm handshake. It had the same formality as a business negotiation. He dropped his hand to his thigh, rubbing it against the fabric of his pants. His head turned to glance into the street because apparently it was more interesting than you.

Just then, your parents swooped in like angels and called you inside. You hurried inside, Angus trotting behind you in swift steps. The table was already set with bowls and plates of food that would have you knocked out by dessert.

The Clotfelter's sat on one side of the table, while you and your parents sat opposite to them. Angus sat across from you. He fiddled with his curls, long fingers entangling in his strands.

Before you knew it, the chatter had begun. The adults exchanged in grueling conversation topics that made you rot in boredom. You swished your mashed potatoes around on the plate.

"Y/N, how's school?" Stanley asked, making you perk your head up.

"Uh, it's alright. There's a winter dance soon, that's all the talk." You smiled shyly.

"Oh! I've heard of that. It's between both academies right, Barton and Wickline?" Judy chipped in. You nodded along in correspondence. "You must have boys lining up to take you."

Angus froze mid-chew, glancing at you quickly. His gaze was expectant. He sat up straight, squaring his shoulders.

You chuckled nervously, "Not really."

"Unbelievable. You're such a pretty girl. Isn't she, Angus?" Judy nudged Angus with her elbow.

He choked on a bite of turkey, coughing so hard his face turned red. Judy patted him on his back, concern laced on her face.

"Uh, sure. Yeah." He muttered, before shoving a bite too big of food into his mouth. His cheeks were stuffed like a squirrel. You scrunched your face in confusion.

"I think it would be good for these two to pair up for that dance. Might get her out of a book for once." Your dad joked, causing the table to erupt in chuckles and laughs. Well, except for you and Angus. Your faces were beet red at this point.

From across the table, Angus rolled his eyes. He stabbed his fork into a piece of chopped carrot. You couldn't help but be hurt. Was the idea of going out with you that repulsive to him? You narrowed your gaze at Angus. He chewed on his lips as your stare burned into his forehead.

"So, Angus. I heard about the vacation you guys are planning. Are you excited?" Your mom questioned him.

"Saint Kitts, yeah. Just glad to get some time away from school." He gave a small toothy grin, fiddling with the sleeve of his shirt.

"I think a bit of sun will do you good." You piped in, your heart beating fast. It was code talk for "I hope you burn to a crisp." Your nails dug into the skin of your palm as you clenched your fist.

He brought his hand to his pale face, his jaw slightly ajar. The parents laughed, slipping into another general bit of gossip. Angus furrowed his brows, his gaze flickering between your eyes. You scowled at him.

The rest of the dinner was forgettable. Two-thirds of the table was engaged in oblivious chatter. The other half had a blanket of tension sending the both of you into a blazing vacuum of fiery nerves.

Cutlery clicked against plates as everyone leaned farther into their seats. The food was obliterated. Not a trace left except for the struggle to breathe everyone shared.

"Y/N, Angus, could you both clean up?" One of the parents spoke up. You both instantly peeked at each other. They had all decided to abandon the table, retreating to the family room.

You had almost forgotten to breathe. It was like time froze and it was waiting for one of you to do something. As if fate yanked you both, the two of you leaned to grab a plate; fingers brushing against each other for a second. Angus flinched away. What the fuck is his problem?

You stacked a load of plates, lugging them to the kitchen. You started on washing the dishes. Angus creeped over in silence, slowly placing more plates beside you. He stood beside you, lingering. Every second he spent not doing anything, not saying anything, would turn your aggravation up one tick. You couldn't take his silence anymore.

"Why don't you like me?" You slammed the sponge into the sink, water splashing everywhere.

"W-What?" Angus stuttered, his eyes wide with fear and surprise.

"I said, Why. Don't. You. Like. Me." You stepped forward with each word, backing Angus slowly into a wall. He touched the wall with a small thud.

"Where did you get that impression?" His face was flushed. Angus was buckling under pressure. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, a dry mouth materializing.

"Oh, I don't know." You spat sarcastically. You waved your arms in the air sporadically. "You don't look at me. You don't talk to me. I mean, I thought you were just shy. It was cute at first. Now, it seems like the mere idea of going out with me is revolting."

"Woah." Angus's face morphed into a confuzzled but serious expression. He grabbed you by the wrist, lowering your arms down by your waist. Yet, he didn't release his grip. It was a featherlight grasp. His eyes held a solemn look. "I'm sorry."

That was easy. Too easy. You bit your lip, refraining from rambling and hurling accusations.

"I wish I didn't appear that way. I just get nervous. . . around you." He continued.

What? "Huh? But-. . . I don't get it? Why? You rolled your eyes and acted like a whiny bitch, no offense." You shook your head in disbelief.

He chuckled, licking his lips.

"It's okay. God, I'm such an idiot." He threw his head back, banging it against the wall softly. "I would act like a whiny bitch because every time I said something, I thought it was completely stupid. I didn't want to embarrass myself. Now, I'm realizing everything I did was stupid. . . I'm so sorry, Y/N. You're just so. . . cool and awesome and. . . attractive."

"So, you don't utterly despise me?" You whispered, the thought seemed appalling now.

"Not at all." Angus took a deep breath, smiling at your shyness. "It's. . . actually quite the opposite."

"What does that mean, wallflower?" You grinned, biting the inside of your cheek to halt your smile.

"I think it means I like you." Angus leaned close, murmuring into your ear. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin.

"You think?"

"I know."

Your breath hitched. The two of you looked at each other with smitten smiles. It would send Shakespeare into overdrive.

"Can we start over?" You said in a hushed tone.

"Sure." Angus chuckled. Without missing a beat, he turned around swiftly, before turning back around with a surprised expression. "Hello there."

"Hi." You giggled.

"I'm Angus. " He reached his hand forward.

"I'm Y/N." You connected your palms. It was much different than earlier. Your nerves had traveled and evaporated out of your skin; your body felt like it was floating away and Angus was the only thing keeping you grounded. "I heard there's a dance this winter."

"Yeah?" He breathed, a smirk on his face. His eyes were half-lidded, his stare never leaving from your face. He was making up for all the averted glances that kept him from keeping your face etched into his mind forever.

"Would you like to go to the dance with me, Angus?" You took his other hand, interlocking fingers. Angus caressed your hand with his thumb. The more you looked at him, the more he absolutely bewitched you. Every curl in his hair looped straight to your heart. His scent was something you wished they sold in bottles. How could you ever neglect this beautiful boy?

"I'd love to, Y/N." He brought your hand up to his lips, planting a small peck. All that time spent thinking he was a complete recluse, you hadn't even considered he had a romantic side to him. "Has anyone ever told you how gorgeous you are?"

"Save it for the dance, handsome." You placed your hand on his chest. His skin prickled with goosebumps at the feeling of your touch. "We got dishes to wash."

Angus flashed another toothy smile, scooching beside you and picking up another sponge. Your faces were flushed with infatuation. You never would've thought at the end of the day you would be caught blushing by the one and only Angus Tully. But here you were, and god were you thankful for it.

[junedenim]

2012

beneath the boardwalk, part 10 (series masterlist)

why'd you only call me when you're high?

warnings: a whole lot of angst, temptation, nostalgia, and nothing

word count: 10.4k

Squished between two couch cushions watching Real Housewives, I got a call from Alex. "Did I wake you?" He questioned. It was late or early depending on who you asked. I had been woken up from a cold I was suffering from. He had never gone to bed.

"No, no, I'm just sitting around, suffocating," I complained. His voice was rough, but not thick with phlegm like mine. He chuckled in a rhythmic format, beat after beat. He sounded like he was sinking into himself, his flesh turning to goo. I heard his lips smack together as if he was chewing on a piece of hay. I coughed, the harshness reaching him miles and miles away. "You alright?"

"Yeah." I think he was chewing gum. "Just got home."

I hummed with understanding. "Did you have a nice night?"

He made a noise of indifference. "How long you been sick?"

"Two days now and it's not getting any better." I sniffled and stuffed a tissue up my nostril, thankful that I lived alone. "Think I caught it at a New Year's Party. I'm worried I have mono."

"Why? You've been kissing a bunch of people?" His words hung in the middle of us. Both of us moving on from one another had been unspoken. We were still on a break for all intents and purposes, even if he was with Arielle. Another thing we never talked about. 

I gave the best laugh I could do without coughing. "It's supposed to be good luck. I also ate 12 grapes and banged bread against the wall."

"Did you really?" He amusingly asked.

"No, well, not the bread part." I sighed. "Now, I'm just sitting on the couch watching shitty reruns. I can't fall back asleep."

"Neither can I," he said.

I hesitated and curled up under my blanket. "Is that why you called me at 4 in the morning?" I said it with a laugh to ease any tensions that may arise.

"It's only 1 here."

"Right. I forgot about the time difference." It didn't seem right for him to be so far away permanently. None of this seemed like the correct order of things. It was a misalignment but there could be no corrective measure.

"Yeah, I kind of did too." There was a pause like he was thinking things over. Like he might have had something to say but now he couldn't find it. "I'll let you go then." In more ways than one.

*

Alex was a cloud. He was away on tour, far away and out of reach. We talked less but not intentionally. We both just got really busy and we didn't need each other for that constant contact anymore. I was plummeting toward the wildest time of my life and he was up to his usual unable-to-contact schedule. Somewhere in Australia first then opening for The Black Keys. Plus, he had Arielle.

The new girlfriend thing didn't bug me much, at least, not in the form of jealousy. It was a strange thing. I hadn't fully adjusted to the idea but it was much easier when he was nowhere near my life. If it had happened when we were younger, I think I would've punished myself for it, but I had grown into a far lighter figure who understood not everyone was trying to make a mark against me. Alex was living his own life, which for the past few years had been dedicated to one person. It was "seeing what else was out there."

I was alone for the most part. I saw Jackson nearly every day, whether for work or leisure, but I was getting used to being alone for long grasps of time. I spent time writing in my notebook like the old days. A therapy session that I locked away in a drawer. I rotted in my room for days. I watched all of The Sopranos, practiced the splits, and thought about getting a cat. It was winter and a very boring time.

But around the end of January, I did my first interview. It was small and nothing huge, but it was talking about my work in-depth for the first time with a stranger. I pretended I was talking to Alex.

Alex and I didn't stop talking completely. I called him on his birthday, briefly, and we had a long chat toward the end of January where we caught up with one another. Neither of us had much to tell. He had been touring. I had been crawling around New York doing next to nothing, besides book matters and talking about my "marketability."

Alex laughed at this. "Yeah, they tend to do that. Try to whittle you down to one trait."

"It's making me feel insecure." I laughed at it but it felt small inside me, burning its way out.

Alex hummed in agreement. "Well, at least you're not a pimple-ridden kid doing it."

It wasn't something he talked about much. He hated people giving him attention, yet he was in a career that commanded eyes to be focused on him. It was one of our many skimmed-over conversations. In some ways, it made me feel like I didn't know Alex. We both hid parts of ourselves from one another and knew that the other did this. That burning curiosity we used to have probably went out once we started to live with one another. You know someone for long enough that it begins to feel like you know every inch of them. I slept with him night after night but I wondered if I ever knew what was ticking on in his head before he fell asleep. What was he thinking when he sat outside with a closed notebook? Why did he turn away?

I didn't even know why I turned away. I wrote repeatedly in my notebook, questioning why I couldn't make it work with Alex. I resisted jumping into a relationship because of that. If I couldn't make it work with Alex then it probably wouldn't work with anyone, especially during that portion of my life. I didn't know what it meant to be alone, like really alone.

I deflected a lot. I even deflected earlier in this book. I was devastated by the loss of Alex and I don't think it hit me until much later because I always had an anvil weighing on the back of my head telling me it wasn't over. Arielle complicated those ideals and I think for a while I was on my back unable to regain upright status. I was flailing.

That's why I paused. When 2012 hit, I was forced into a corner. I felt distant from who I was but still so far away from who I was becoming. I felt like I was the roots of the tree that had been cut down. I was left to be a stump.

One night, over a joint, I told Jackson I didn't feel British. Jackson, a Californian boy through and through, did not understand this. He laughed from the high while the smoke just made me more disoriented. He told me that I was "perfectly British." To me, that sounded like some marketing strategy. That's what the book would be marketed as—a British girl coming to America; her cold skin meeting the California sun. It made me hate the book. Or I hated myself, the lines were blurring.

I thought I had grown away from forms of jealousy. I have just previously insisted to you that I experienced no feelings of envy toward Arielle...but I did. It was ignored and then it couldn't be. The "R U Mine?" music video featured Arielle and a "new" Alex. I'm not a fan of the insinuation Alex suddenly changed after we broke up, besides his hair and fresh Sheffield tattoo, I would come to know Alex was exactly the same. Alex never quite changes. He's always been suave. It's hard to take a 20-year-old as seriously as a 25-year-old, especially when he is still pimple-ridden.

I found my jealousy toward Arielle in regard to "R U Mine?" was the same as when Alex showed me "Bigger Boys and Stolen Sweethearts" because, honestly, since then Alex's only explicit romantic muse (the word makes me want to barf, but that's what I was) was me. It's the weird thing of being with a writer, especially with personal subjects. It's beautiful when it's for you but then you realize that it was never really for you. It was about you. Alex didn't write a song to make me feel loved. He wrote a song because he liked writing songs.

Unknowingly, I always felt that. It's why I didn't swoon every time I heard "Mardy Bum." I loved it as a song but it didn't feel like a love letter. I felt Alex's love in far different ways. As the years went on, I would find love letters in songs, but at the center, I found his love in crevices: a note from college, a smoke outside a pub, a cooked meal, folded laundry—god, I sound old.

But his love wasn't restricted to those songs. Just as my love isn't restricted to this tome. This is a love letter in pieces for Alex but it's also for my youth. I found around this time, I began to reflect on those early years. Nearly 10 years out from 2003, I became a preservationist. I jotted down my memory of my first conversation with Alex. I tucked it away in my drawer, no use for it yet.

*

Alex called me on my birthday. He wasn't too far away, somewhere between Portland and Boston on a bus. It was late with only an hour left to my birthday, which I had spent drinking with friends. It was a rather simple birthday. It could've been just another night, minus the cake (red velvet with frosted flowers on top of it) that Fennel and Kaka purchased for me.

Alex texted me in the morning. Something akin to Hey. Happy birthday. Al.

It was formal and if it didn't make me laugh so much I think I'd be hurt by it. But Alex always texted like that as if he was penning a letter. The letter was awfully short but it was sent at 4 AM, which made me believe he either had no sleep or had just woken up.

I was expecting more and I got more. When I was drunk.

"Hi," I said, shoving the phone to my ear as a subway train came roaring by.

He chuckled, hearing the noise. "Hi." He waited for it to pass fully before continuing, "Happy birthday."

"Thank you."

"Did you spend it good?"

"Yeah. I'm pretty drunk."

"Alright, then, I won't keep you long."

"No," I insisted. "Stay on the phone with me." I was pleading. I didn't want to let go of him. "At least, until I'm home." I wasn't far away but I lied and acted like I was further away, keeping him on the line with me, even as we lost connection at various times.

"Sorry I didn't get you anything," he said halfway through the subway ride.

"I didn't get you anything,” I reminded him.

"Yeah. Feels weird."

We hummed in silence because we both knew how abnormal this was. We weren't friends. Alex and I were never friends. Nothing ever went away or could ever go away. We were struggling to redefine what we were. We could never disentangle from one another. It pulled us back toward one another, even when we shouldn't have.

"I was going to get you that, uh, milkshake maker so you wouldn't have to pay extra at Morgenstern's for one." I didn't know a person could get so emotional over a milkshake maker that they would feel like crying on the F train. I might be the only person ever.

It was such a stupid gift. I would probably get two uses out of the machine before it broke and it wouldn't be as good as Morgenstern's makes theirs and it would go to waste. Still, I can imagine if he did get it for me. How after I unwrapped it we would go to Morgenstern's and get a pint of ice cream and Alex would make me a milkshake. One just for me. If I was feeling generous enough, we'd share the straw.

None of this would have happened, even if we were together. He'd still be in between Portland and Boston and I'd still be riding the F, wishing he was with me. It was comforting that maybe I had done the right thing, even if it felt so hard.

"Well, you can get it for me for Christmas."

He laughed and said, "Okay."

*

Black leather loafers with black wool flannel trousers. A white poplin shirt, two buttons loose at the top and at the bottom. I had a black corduroy jacket that Jackson held for me. I felt like I was dressing up in my mother's clothes. I was doing book press. It was an unfitting experience but I held the hardcover book in my hand. It felt unnatural but I liked my authour's photo.

By that point, I was so far removed from the contents of the book. I started to second-guess it even coming out. It felt like my diary, even if it was evasive at times and cut out the personal from that time (Alex is not mentioned once, not even as the person I moved to LA for). Still, it was exposing, but it was real now and it was sitting in my hand.

Alex came to town a week later, opening for The Black Keys. I didn't see the show—things were getting too busy by that point. I asked Alex if we could meet for a quick lunch and he accepted.

We met at Westville, a cute restaurant, but by no means romantic. I felt a need for that to be clear. I worried about Arielle worrying that I was trying to "steal" Alex or whatever that meant. I don't think she ever did. After all, she had the guy and I was resigned with no longer having the guy. It wasn't the bitch fight it has been imagined to be.

I waited for Alex outside the restaurant, smoking a cigarette to achieve my all-time high of cigarettes per day (this was not a good year for my lungs). I dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. I wanted to look cool but relaxed. I wore the previously mentioned black loafers to make it look like I didn't roll out of bed and throw some jeans on.

Alex wore the same thing: jeans, T-shirt, loafers...and a leather jacket. It was a hotter March day when spring was beginning to peek through and relieve the bitterness of winter. He was across the street stuck at a streetlight and I waved to him and he waved back. Then, we just stared at each other, waiting for the light to turn green.

He crossed, said hi, and hugged me. Every move was made with slight awkwardness. We hadn't been alone together since he moved out. "Have you been waiting long?" He asked.

I shook my head. "Got here early, just for a smoke. Do you want to go in now?"

"Yeah. Yeah." He bobbed his head.

I put my cigarette out and he followed me into the restaurant. "Your hair is back to normal." My natural brown. It was better for me to not play pretend when promoting a book about my own life.

"Yours isn't," I commented. It came off snarkier than I wanted it to.

He shrugged and smiled to ease the thick fat of awkwardness. "Yeah, well, you know." He didn't say it but this was the new normal for him, which was fine, but it was different from what I knew. When I dreamed about him or pictured him, it was still with a curling mop top or, you know, just the mop if I was dreaming of '09.

"Tattoo too," I added.

"Yeah."

"You're a changed man."

"Yeah."

Our heads ducked down and we stared at the menus in silence. It was a challenge of who would speak first—seriously speak, not those little comments over what looks good.

After we ordered, I said, "Sorry I'm not able to go tonight."

He waved me off. "You've already been to too many shows. Don't worry."

"Well, I like going. It feels weird not to go."

"Yeah." Somewhere in that word, I knew what he meant. It had been years since Alex had the ability to spot people in the crowd, but he told me once that there was a comfort in knowing I was somewhere in there, that even if he messed up, there would always be someone there at the end of it all. I wonder if he was still getting used to someone else being at the end of it all.

He sipped his water to cut off the look on his face. I decided to cut to the fat of it. "I, uh, have something to give you."

"Why do I feel like it's something bad?" He cracked a laugh, lifting the air in the room.

I picked up my bag. "I hope not."

I dug through my things slowly. It was held in my hands but I still had to catch my breath before I lifted it out. I saw a squint on his face as he tried to imagine what it was. I passed it across the table and his hands took it. That is when it all started to feel real; seeing his eyes land on it, his hands run down its spine with him smiling. "It's a first edition," I joked.

He raised an eyebrow, flipping it open. "Is it signed?" I laughed. I'm not sure what made me happier: him holding my book or joking around with him again. He opened the other end of the book. "Good author photo."

"I'm quite happy with it." Somewhere in that bittersweetness, I did feel content. It was never how I imagined him holding my first book. Parts of me were swallowed with sorrow that I would never experience this in the way I wanted—a desperate romantic lovemaking all-consuming kind of way—but there were small parts in me that were happy that we could still have this. I don't know if we kept dragging things out this would have been as joyous. That this would have felt like closure.

Alex looked up, meeting my eyes. A small smile played on his lips. The kind that can't be faked in any way. It was real and from the hurt. It was that pride he always had in me. The pride that kept me going for far longer than I'd ever imagined. I wrote the book, but he made the book. I never would've written anything close to it without him. I'd probably be stuck fucking Robert in London if it wasn't for him. It was my reassurance to him that he didn't have to make up for the sudden move to LA as he constantly tried to do. He wasn't in the book, but he was the book. It's why I dedicated it to him. It's why on the last page of his edition of the book I wrote: Don't make fun of me, Al. Thank you for this. I hope you know why. Love, Jane C.

I questioned the "love" part. I didn't want to make him uncomfortable but it would have been far more awkward to write something like "sincerely." I wasn't one for lying, especially about my love for Alex. It was something layered. It didn't rest in that romantic love. He wasn't just my boyfriend and he wasn't just my best friend. It's hard for a writer to find the word. It's nudged somewhere in this book. In all these little words.

"I wanted you to be the first to have it," I said. "Well, one of the first. Wanted to see the look on your face."

He looked back down at the book. Mild disbelief spread across his face as he looked back and forth between the book and me. "Thanks." He wasn't sure what else to say. He rolled everything around and looked as if he was choking on the bone of a chicken.

"It's been a little weird these past few months," I said while picking at my fingernails, an assured sign to Alex that I was referring to us. "I don't want it to feel weird. So, don't cry or anything," I joked.

He chuckled, dislodging the lump. He flipped the book over one more time before placing it on the table. "I'll try not to. I knew you could do it." He stared right at me, emphasizing every little syllable. The awkwardness faded from him and he leaned onto the table. His smile was small but bright. I could find a million different meanings in it, each meaning just as much.

"I know you did. You always did," I told him. "I had this dream last night. It was weird and blurry but we were driving around Sheffield or some weird ghost thing was driving us. It's hard to describe. I don't know. I think it was a sign or something. I'm not sure of what but just those early days of us talking. That's when I really started to write. I suppose my mind was thinking about this lunch and conjured up some old memories."

He smiled at me the whole time, eyes never leaving me, even when I glanced away. "Well, I had a dream that I was one of the animals left off of Noah's Ark, so, you tell me what that means."

I told him it had something to do with his fear of being left behind and he rolled his eyes and said I was trying to be Freud. Lunch came and we ate and laughed and agreed to split the check. He told me he would read the whole book tonight if he could. We hugged goodbye and he whispered in my ear, "I'll send you a proper review."

A few days later, Alex emailed me. It was long. Very long and detailed like he had taken a note on every page. He pulled the sentences he liked the most out, which turned out to be about half the book. I would later write back and ask what that meant for the other half of the book. He said they were left off Noah's Ark too. Continuing his initial email, Alex wrote at the bottom:

You did it. I hope you feel that too. Thank you, Al.

*

I had a book tour. A minimal one since there wasn't the highest of expectations and I didn't want to go to Omaha, Nebraska. So, there was Boston, New York, Atlanta, Chicago, Houston, and Los Angeles. I hated the whole thing. I always wanted to go to these places but I wasn't really going to these places. We lingered in Chicago at the end of July, but it was the equivalent of touring with Alex, except this time I was Alex.

I've never enjoyed talking about my work either but it was nice that people thought it was nice. But that part still felt awkward to me too. Like, people actually read this??? It eased up as it went along. It was a short tour anyway. I wasn't going to Tokyo or anything.

I thought about myself a lot. It was a little lonely but I had adapted to that. Jackson was my only company on the road and it was easy for us to get sick of one another. We had both grown bored with one another, both slightly exhausted from these months so closely intertwined. I thought about Al, often. I thought about myself, often.

Could it be possible that I did everything right? No. I never thought that but I didn't think I did everything wrong. I had cracks in the surface of me and guts that spilled out. I said everything with my pen but nothing with my lips. I hid myself under the disguise of a freshly lonesome girl who knew the only means to move on was to forget. But I didn't forget anything, only myself, just for a little. Pieces of me dropped on the side of the highway. We drove for days and I found no meaning in it, only wondering did he feel like this all the time? How did he bear this loss of self?

I asked myself questions and never got any answers. I felt everything but there was never any meaning in it. There were closed-off vessels, no means to transport blood or oxygen, yet, I was still moving. I suppose that was the only thing left to cling to. I still had the memory of it and those never made me sad. I experienced it. How fortunate was I to be cracked open and exposed to this impenetrable love? I still felt it. We were both on the end of the same wire. It was bent and twisted, knots made to keep strong but disrupt transmission. No love lost. Just changed. I know good comes from change. I didn't feel the goodness but I could taste it coming. So much else was happening. I would hate myself forever for wasting those precious few days of enjoyment in place of a relationship that didn't need nourishment anymore. It was about me. I wanted it to be about me for so long and it finally was. Don't waste it.

The mini-tour ended in LA at the start of August. Summer had whipped me in the face so hard I forgot the season even existed, until I was stuck in the sweaty, SoCal heat, dying for a drop of water. The first night—the day before the Q&A and book signing—Jackson and I got dinner and drinks with Opal.

It was nice to let loose after feeling so pinned up for most of the summer. The liquor soothed my sunburnt skin and I decided the tour as a whole wasn't too bad—I was about 3 drinks in at this point. Then, after another drink, I texted Alex telling him I was in town. The last we chatted was a week or so before when the band opened for the London Olympics. I watched it later on YouTube and told him he did a bang-up job. He told me he nearly shat himself.

Alex had returned to LA since. The city had become his permanent home since the tour had ended. He bought a house out here and everyone in the band, for the most part, had relocated too. So, in my drunken state, I told him I was there and we should hang before I went back to New York.

When I woke up, it was an embarrassing text of I'm in LA, AL. Even in my drunken state, I wrote with proper grammar. Alex wrote back, Come on over. This was in the early hours of the day so he must have been up by some similar means too.

The following night, I panicked. I wondered if this is what single people felt like all the time. Prior to this, I had never faced intimidation when hanging out with Alex, except maybe when I was 17 and that type of thing could be labelled as teenage anxiety. But, no, this was a thing that would plague me the rest of my dating life and I wasn't even going on a date with him. Alex is the only "ex" I had stayed in contact with up to that point. Most of my friends didn't do this type of thing either, at least not Opal who lived by the mentality that once people were gone they were gone forever.

Half my anxiety came from the limited wardrobe out of my suitcase but considering it was just dinner and a dinner that would be had with the other bandmates and the girlfriends, there should've been no pressure. I wouldn't have told you this at the time, I barely want to write it down now, but the nerves I felt weren’t because of Alex, they were because of Arielle. Part of me wanted to be conceived as a non-threat. I was over those days. The other part of me—the stronger part—wanted her to be jealous of me and question why Alex and I ever broke up. I wasn't fully-formed yet. 

The two sides fought and then I just settled on jeans and a tank top because it was boiling outside and I was having drinks at Al's place, not the Windsors. Luckily, I showed up after Jamie and Katie so I thought of using Katie as a shield. I didn't accept Katie and Arielle to be talking though. The word traitor crossed through my brain and then I thought I must be regressing to my college days when Rosie and Will would feel each other up in front of me. Arielle was nice and I was probably an anxious bitch.

So, I hugged both of them as Alex came into the living room. He was staggering, dressed casually beside his uniform slicked hair. "Hey there," he greeted. He was calm, not an awkward bone in his body. He knew he had the upper hand. We were on his home turf with his hot girlfriend and I was a single mess who had been on plane after plane and stunk of cigarettes.

The room was hot with sweat dripping off every surface it seemed. The air conditioner was running but the flaming air came rushing in with the swing of the front door as Matt and Breana entered. The room became distracted by them, both looking darling. I hugged each of them, distracting myself in their grasp.

Arielle had lit candles for the dining table. It was the only thing formal about the informal event. The house itself was rather bare. Alex never carried much, I was always the one with the shit. 

Alex tapped my arm. "You want a drink?"

"What do you have?" I asked.

He waved his arm and I followed him to the kitchen, isolating ourselves. "Beer, wine, tequila, vodka, all the fixings. I can make you something if you'd like. Margarita?"

"Anything non-alcoholic?" Alcohol would ease my nerves but it would lead to my loud mouth and I couldn't afford that tonight.

He looked bewildered. "Who are you?" He joked.

We kept our distance. I pushed my hair behind my shoulder. "Got real drunk with Opal and Jackson last night. Figured I'd keep it clean. At least for now."

"Right then. Iced tea?"

He knew me well. I laughed at his smile and agreed to this. I moved closer to the refrigerator to just feel the cold air on my skin. He poured the glass, leaving the door open for me. I chugged the coldness like it was the elixir of life. It felt like my lungs re-inflated when the liquid dispersed and his eyes looked at mine again, so clearly over that fogged-up glass. Wet brown eyes into my baby blues and it felt like he might reach out and snatch them out of my eyes and keep them for himself. He always liked them. He has a thing for blue eyes.

We talked around the dining table, eating a mix of something Arielle had cooked and pizza. I had the pizza. Everyone talked loosely about things I had no knowledge of. Jokes about LA and all these people I had no concept of. I suppose if they had come to New York it would have been similar, except they all shared this with one another.

The sweet Breana turned the attention onto me, which partially made me shrink and revel in the joy of being included. "Oh, Jane, I loved the book!" Everyone chanted in similar sentiments all at once.

I laughed and took a bite of my pizza crust. "You didn't all read it," I laughed.

"I read parts of it," Jamie said. They were all sweet but I'm unsure how often any of them even had the chance to pick up a book, let alone their best friend's ex-girlfriend. Because that's what I was now. That was my title.

Alex looked at me. I could hear my mother's words ringing through his lips so I smiled and said, "Thank you."

"Disappointed I wasn't in it more," Matt said. "You know if it wasn't for me the book would've never been made." The long story of it has made that true but I can't give Matt credit for everything, it might go to his head too much.

"How's that?" Arielle asked. Everything shifted after that. We could all tell that she had been the wrong one to ask that question. Whether she was clueless and curious or was trying to make a dig at Alex, I wasn't sure, but I felt like an imposition being there. I didn't feel like an out-of-town friend. I felt like an ex-girlfriend.

Nobody spoke so I spoke. "Matt introduced me and Alex." I sipped my drink to wash down any other awkwardness.

Everyone seemed awkward other than Arielle. She quickly nodded and said, "Oh, yeah, Al told me that." I wondered why everyone else was so stiff when Arielle didn't seem to have much of a problem with it. Why should she when she looked like that?

I felt frumpy and had to pee badly from all the iced tea I had drank but I was too scared to go to the bathroom and see her things mixed with Alex's things. I could leave there with ambiguity and the belief that Alex didn't move on so quickly and I was stuck being alone.

"That was our first gig," Matt said. He seemed to relax, always the person to slice through any amount of tension. "Almost 10 years ago now."

"What was it like?" Arielle asked.

"Awful," Alex said. His eyes pointed toward me. "Right?"

"I don't know. I never reviewed it, remember?" He laughed and it felt inappropriate to display this inside language in front of everyone. "It feels weird that I'm the only one here who watched it." Even if that had been the case for many years, it had been a while since we all gathered around in a circle and talked about those days.

"I wasn't even there," Nick remarked. The room buckled with chuckles.

I laid my forehead against the palm of my hand resting against the table. "God," I said, "I spent that whole show with Will’s hand on my ass and Joanie screaming in my ear."

"Oh, god, Joanie," Matt muttered.

"Oh, god, Will," Jamie cracked.

"She got married last month," I told them. She had invited me but I was in the middle of the tour. We talked about once a year and everything was always nice. The only time I would've had the chance of running into her was when Alex and I visited Sheffield and that obviously wasn't happening anymore.

"Bless that man's heart," Matt quipped.

I shook my head. "No, she seems to have settled down in the last few years. I guess we all did. Seems so long ago."

"It was," Alex said. "We're getting old, Janie." His silence punctured the air. My lungs felt like they were deflating. He poured himself another glass.

Things grew looser and looser. They rattled off stories of LA, I rattled off stories from the road. Arielle excused herself to bed, citing an early morning. Her bed was upstairs.

Each couple left one by one until Alex and I awkwardly remained. I figured then I should leave. He walked me to the door with a freshly poured glass in his hand. "Hope I didn't keep you up too late," I said because I wasn't sure what else to say. It reminded me of what my parents said to each other after a fight. It was the one thing they clung to in order to keep their marriage somehow working.

He shook his head and sipped. "No, no. It's fine. You're always good company."

I shrugged. The whole thing kind of felt awkward, at least with him. I could laugh with Matt and throw my arm around Katie, even hug Arielle good night, but whenever my eyes landed on Alex, I tensed up so tightly I knew I'd be sore the next day. "If you're ever in New York or whatever."

He nodded and smiled. He would be visiting his old apartment. I wondered how that would make him feel. Was it the same when I walked into his house and noticed different shoes by the door than mine? Would the emptiness of his presence leave him uneasy? "I'd like that," Alex said.

"Thanks for having me." We reached the door and the end of the night but we stayed awkwardly staring at each other.

"Course. Text me when you're back at the hotel and safe and all that." He was drunk, rambling with an incapability of holding his tongue.

I smiled. "I will."

I didn't know whether to hug him or not. He leaned forward and kissed me. It wasn't affectionate. It was a peck. The kind my mother used to give me when left for school in the morning. Of course, she was my mother and I was 7 and Alex was drunk and I was, well, awkward. 

I said, "Night," and turned away. We never talked about it because there was nothing to talk about. It very well could have been a kiss on the cheek just like I gave Katie and Breana before they left. Of course, that was Katie and Breana and this was Alex—no longer mine.

*

Rain pattered against the window. Jackson and I returned to New York a week prior and we were now sitting in my apartment, drinking, and about to call Opal to join us. I felt dizzy and Jackson looked sleepy. It had been a long month.

"So," he said, "what's next?"

I finished off my glass. "What do you mean?" The year felt empty as the cold was beginning to creep into my summer warmth. 2012 was a bumpy year where so much yet so little happened. I was growing sick of my apartment because no matter how rid it was of Alex, he still had a whole life with me here. When I returned to it after the book tour, I was ready to move on.

Jackson placed his arm on the back of the couch. The tips of his fingers softly poked at my shoulder. "Now it's time to think about the next book."

I tossed my head back with a groan. "Gimme a break."

He chuckled and placed his empty glass on the end table. "No rush. For now."

I sat up straight, finishing off my glass, and growing more and more serious every day. "Thanks for doing this for me, Jackson."

He nodded. "My pleasure."

"I feel kind of empty," I confessed.

His brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

I didn't feel like explaining it. I was growing tired of doing that with people. My stomach ached and I pushed Alex out of my mind. I felt that I had sacrificed our relationship for this success, even if it wasn't true. I thought I would have been over it by that time of year. It had been over a year. But it still felt so unnatural for him to feel so far removed from my life. Every word we spoke felt tinged with sadness and I didn't want it to feel that way. I wanted to move on.

I kissed Jackson. He kissed back. We never called Opal.

*

Jackson and I started dating in a casual way. We were exclusive to one another and treated each other as a boyfriend and girlfriend would but I suppose my association with dating was always a far deeper connection. I wasn't alone in this. Jackson had long-term girlfriends prior to me. He was older than me, not by some outrageous amount. He was born in 1979, seven years older, but I was 26 and 33 didn't feel so far off.

Opal loved it. She felt like the ultimate matchmaker and wanted to be both the maid of honor and the best man. My New York crew loved him. Fennel and Kaka found him to be rich in conversation. He liked going out more than Alex but then again most people liked going out more than Alex. Except more and more it seemed Alex enjoyed the going out part. (I was taken but I was still a snooping ex-girlfriend).

I didn't tell Alex. It felt awkward to call him up and tell him I got a new boyfriend. I decided to tell him when I saw him again, which didn't come up. He was in Los Angeles. I was in New York. We didn't talk very often either. I think I called him once in October because I couldn't remember the name of a restaurant we went to (he didn't remember either). 

Other than that, there wasn't much reason to talk. We had completely separate lives. But I was aware of what he was up to. I wasn't cyber-stalking him much anymore (only on nights when I was wildly intoxicated). I talked to Katie occasionally and texted Breana from time to time. Things about Alex would slip through the cracks and get to me but the majority of it was just that they were recording their new album.

We had both moved on. Or we were both pretending we did. At least I was pretending, in some form. I thought about him all the time. I didn't feel like a day went by when I didn't think about him. It wasn't in some romantic longing way. I had shared a life with him from such a young age and to be forced apart from it felt unnatural. There were so many jokes and stories that went untold because no one would get it but him.

When I went back home for the holidays, I confided this to my mother. I don't know why, maybe because of what she had told me so many years ago in Florida. I don't know if my mother ever actually liked Alex so I figured if she said awful things about him it would make me feel better. Of course, she didn't.

"It goes away," she said. "One day, you wake up and you're numb to it. You just get numb to it in the end, Jane. All those people you hated and loved turn to nothing. Even the ones you still want to love. You'll be thankful for it when the day comes that you don't feel anything anymore."

I frowned and my mother left me on the couch to fetch another bottle of wine. In retrospect, my mother was suffering from mental illness, but I was oblivious to that because I had grown oblivious to most of my mother's behavior. I just didn't want to engage with it anymore. Maybe part of me was numb toward her.

I didn't want to feel nothing. I couldn't imagine not feeling anything for Alex, even if we remained friends for the rest of our lives. I had tethered so much sentimentality toward him, he might as well have been a knick-knack on my shelf. Letting go of him would be letting go of an entire part of myself. I was content if that part only came out once a year when I saw him but I couldn't let go of it forever.

*

Joanie was having a baby. She likely got pregnant on her honeymoon. Someone my age having a child felt unnatural. I pictured Joanie being a teen mum, not a 26-year-old pregnant woman. She invited me to the baby shower taking place right after Christmas. It was ideal timing since all her closest friends would be in town or, like me, the country.

I debated going but decided that since I missed the wedding the least I could do was go to the baby shower. So, I drove the Beetle up to Wakefield. I figured it would be a mini-reunion. The only one I had seen as of late was Claire, who lived in Bristol now, and I hadn't seen since last winter.

We drove up together and listened to Radio 2 on full blast the whole way. I don't think I had ever felt more like a teenager even when I was a teenager. Claire continued her streak of always being a comfort for me. While other friends might be wedding and birthing, Claire had just ended her two-year-long relationship and gagged in her mouth at the thought of being a mother one day. 

It made me miss England so desperately. I forgot how much I ached to drive, which I hadn't done in years. The closest I had gotten to a car was the one taxi ride home drunk at 4 AM. And to drive on the left side of the road! I hadn't heard someone speak in a British accent since the dinner at Alex's. It eased my ears and made me wonder why I ever left, which just led to me thinking about Alex again.

Claire said, "I hate Alex, which sucks 'cause I like Alex." In a way, it summed up how conflicted I felt. Hate is a strong word but I was resentful for how everything went down. Then again, I probably didn't have much of a right.

Joanie's house was straight out of a picture book. I didn't know houses like that even existed in Wakefield. It wasn't fancy but at the sight of it, you'd call it a home. She had a little garden in the front that she said her husband grew herbs in that she used for cooking. It made Claire and I roll our eyes but we both desperately wanted that kind of companionship. If I ever would learn how to cook or grow plants, maybe that could be my life. I refused to do either, but it was a nice thought.

I bought Joanie—or Joanie's baby—these cozy fleece booties because that's what New York Magazine said to get. I never bought anything for a baby before (I got away with it two years ago during Harper's unmentioned pregnancy of my first nephew, Benjamin, by having my mother buy a gift for me) so I had no clue what to get. I bought Joanie this nice set of body washes that were her favourite when we were 17 with the hope that they either still were or she would feel nostalgic over them.

Claire and I ate a slice of cake and watched Joanie open her presents. Halfway through we turned to each other and decided we were going to go out drinking after. I love Joanie but oohing and awing over baby gifts with a bunch of women I barely knew got old quickly, especially incredibly sober and in the middle of the winter blues. The cake was good though.

The shower ended around 4 and while I was down to get hammered that early, Claire wanted to go out to lunch first. We ended up meeting up with AB at a pub. I hadn't seen AB since 2006 and I nearly cried at the sight of him all grown up. Claire and AB had broken up long ago but stayed in touch as good friends and if they could do it—two incredibly mature people—maybe Alex and I could too. 

AB's girlfriend of two years (and future wife), Shay, joined us as well. It almost made me barf how gorgeous they were together and I was shocked Claire wasn't fuming more over how beautiful Shay was. I was almost fuming over how beautiful Shay was!

AB sipped on a beer, which I don't think I had ever witnessed. He shared it was Shay and I swallowed down my drink at the painful thought that Alex and I once did things like that. I was such a sad sack. I thought about calling Jackson. Thank god I didn't.

We left the pub, hugging AB and Shay goodbye next to the Beetle. Claire and I were going to go back to the hotel to change out of our baby shower clothes and "hit the town.”

We waved goodbye to the couple and that's when I saw Alex with his mum. I turned my back to him and grabbed Claire's arm. "I think I'm gonna vomit."

She looked at me completely puzzled. "What? Why?"

I was so freaked out by the sight of him. I think the unexpected nature of it threw me off-balanced. I had never been that unnerved by the sight of him. My head felt like my brain was about to burst out of my ears. "Get in the car," I harshly muttered to her.

She was still unaware but she raced around the side of the car to get into the passenger seat. We bolted out of there before he crossed the street.

*

It was midnight when I called him. I was definitely drunk, but not wasted, standing outside a club smoking while Claire chatted up with some guy inside. I was freezing and felt so childish for doing it, even in the moment, but I wanted to see him. It shouldn't feel right that I was here and he wasn't.

"Hello." His voice was clear so he hadn't been sleeping. I wonder if he was in bed (with Arielle).

I swallowed whatever dignity I had left and let the rest loose. "Hey. I'm in Wakefield for Joanie's baby shower 'cause apparently we're old enough to have children now and now I'm out with Claire at a club. We drove up together from Bath, well, Bristol for her, Bath for me, but you know that. Jesus. I saw you earlier today and raced into my car because I was so scared by the sight of you, which made me realize I'm not as mature as I thought I was. And it was just after we went to lunch with AB and Shay and Claire and AB still get along like they didn't have this romantic relationship and I know that we get along too but I raced to my car and nearly shit myself. Now, I'm outside a club smoking in the middle of winter because I apparently regress back to teenage tendencies when I'm in Yorkshire or maybe just England in general. Anyway, I'm drunk and I'm thinking this was stupid and it probably is but I know you're probably laughing at me right now but I'm freezing my ass off and I can't figure out how to get back inside the club and Claire isn't answering her phone, which means she's probably shagging someone or something and I wouldn't want to interrupt that, you know, and I probably should just get a cab back to the hotel but I called you for some reason. Well, not for some reason because I'm drunk. Okay, now you talk."

I was out of breath and sure I had just lost my mind. I need another shot of tequila. I felt I was growing too sober to face the repercussions of this. I took a drag of my cigarette and listened to his breathing on the other end of the line.

I could hear his smile. I still had a knack for that kind of thing. "I saw you too, you know."

I slapped my forehead and thought about slamming my head into the brick wall until it broke my skull and my brain gushed out. "Did it look like we were being held at gunpoint?"

He chuckled lowly. "A little. But I must've looked like someone pointed a gun at me. I'd recognize that car anywhere, Janie."

I didn't know what to say. My car was such a sensitive topic for both of us. It was the cornerstone (ha) of our relationship, especially for the car to be returned to its rightful county. I thought I'd feel weird driving it but everything felt right like it was a complete homecoming. Like nature had found its way and every piece fell perfectly into the puzzle.

"I thought I would be grown up by now," I confessed.

He suppressed a laugh. "I like you this way. Makes me feel less alone."

"How so?"

He waited, not wanting to fully let the truth go but it was me he was talking to. There wasn't much point in lying. "I've called you in various states of intoxication too."

"Not after running to your car," I pointed out.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure I'll do it one of these days." It was a silence but a vibration rang across the line to one another. Call it a vibe or a wavelength or just a feeling, but I could feel him like he was standing right next to me. "Where are you?"

It was so embarrassing I laughed. "Che & Coco." It was Barnsley College's resident bar and nightclub. The average age of the crowd was barely 20 and I felt like such a loser trying to claim that nostalgia is what made me want to club there.

"Geez, you really are down bad." His laughter rang through the phone and I nearly hung up due to how beet red my face was. He laughed and laughed. I could picture him with his hands on his knees, walking home from Will's house, unable to breathe he was laughing so hard. Then, I couldn't breathe. "You want me to pick you up?"

I'd like that a lot but I couldn't take it. That was a bridge too far. "No, no. I'll just call a taxi or something. Maybe even walk. My hotel isn't that far."

"You're gonna walk in Barnsley at midnight? Hope you don't get hit with a beer bottle," he joked. That had happened to Will back in the day. I'm convinced it made him even dumber if that's possible.

"I've walked later than this in New York," I reasoned.

"Janie," he stopped me, "I'd like to see you if you won't run away from me."

I sighed. "I'll see you in 20. I'll be waiting on Peel." Because maybe I would like to see him too.

He pulled up in his mum's car. It wasn't her car from way back in the day but it made him feel sophomoric to me. His hair wasn't gelled up, instead falling around in tendrils of combed-back magic. He had a hoodie on and a smile on his face. He honked the horn of the car and I dashed across the street to his car.

The car was warm, at least warmer than outside where I had been suffering. I tugged my coat closer and put my seatbelt on. "Hi."

Alex smiled over at me. "Hi." He pulled back onto the road and I couldn't remember the last time he had driven me. "How've you been?"

I shrugged in his peripheral vision. "Fine. Christmas was fine. My dad bought me Slouching Toward Bethlehem."

Alex laughed. "About 10 years too late."

"Yeah, but at least he's trying. I can't remember the last time he bought me a gift." My mother handled all the presents, something she was rather good at, even if it always felt like she didn't know me.

We stopped at a red light. "I didn't get anything for you," he said while looking over at me.

"Well, I didn't get you anything either." First time in eight years. It didn't even cross my mind. "This is enough of a present anyway."

He nodded in agreement. "Good." I believed him. The nod of his head told me that this meant as much to me as it did to me. Drunk actions are sober thoughts and sometimes I just wanted to hear his voice.

We kept driving. I had yet to tell him any directions. He was headed the right way but I wouldn't have had the willpower to tell him anyway. I liked driving around with him. I liked just this. The vibration of the road beneath us and the scent of him washing over me. The slowness of Yorkshire and the heat of him beside me. It made everything feel right.

"Arielle come with you?"

He rubbed his eye. He looked tired. "Nah. She went to her parents’." I nodded and he waited, looking over at me. I stared at him blankly. He looked back at the road and kept the car moving. "What about, uh, Jackson?"

My head snapped toward him. "He's at his parents’." I picked at my nails. I didn't want to talk about this. Why did it feel like I was cheating on him? It felt like Alex had died and I was some widower trying to move on but his ghost was coming back to shame me.

"Katie mentioned something," he muttered.

"Yeah," I explained, "just a few months."

He nodded slowly. "He's a nice guy." I laughed out loud. He laughed too, for some reason. "What?"

I shook my head. "We don't have to talk about my boyfriend."

"Okay. We don't have to talk about Arielle." It was probably some form of cheating, emotionally. We gazed at one another and never acted on anything, but the aftertaste of it didn't feel right. But in the moment, everything had fallen perfectly into place.

We went nowhere and neither of us said a single thing about it. The drive from the club to my hotel was ten minutes. We drove around for an hour.

"Joanie's house is beautiful. It's like my dream house. It isn't big but it's not a cottage or anything. But it's quaint. She's got plants and I never thought Joanie could take care of a living thing and now she's gonna have a baby," I told him. I fiddled with the radio, even though we weren't gonna listen to it.

"Are you sure they aren't fake?" He joked. I chuckled and hit his shoulder. "Eh! Watch it. I'm driving here, missy."

I held my hands up as a defense. I eased them back down with a giggle and tugged on my seatbelt strap. "You know, I thought I'd have a baby by now."

He snorted. "No, you did not."

"At one point I did. I mean, back before you. Like when I was still playing with dolls." 

He laughed again and everything made sense. "Good thing you don't. You can't even keep a plant alive."

"They're not self-sufficient enough."

"And you think a baby will be easier?"

"Not anymore but at six I did! It was right around when Stacey was born. I took good care of her."

Alex felt warm with a smile. "You did." He was an only child but at times I felt he might consider her a sister too. She considered him a brother. He had been around since she was 11. She was only a little over a year away from graduating university. 

"Granted I didn't have to breastfeed her."

It was still dark outside but it felt like the sun was rising in that car. "You wouldn't be happy living Joanie's life."

"How do you know?" I questioned. "Maybe if I was settled I'd feel better."

Alex's jaw gaped. He breathed a laugh and I looked over at him curiously. "Jane, you'd be losing your mind. The whole time I knew you here, you were begging to get out of here."

"Maybe I had it all wrong."

He shook his head, never looking over at me, just driving. "You're a completely different person because you got out of here. You're gonna get all that stuff one day. The kid, the garden, whatever the fuck you want, but you'd never have what you have no if you stayed put. You always knew what you wanted. Your gut is always right. I've learned that."

I sighed and accepted he was right. "Grass is always greener, I guess."

"Yeah," he agreed. "But I think you have the greenest grass. You're the one who's a bestseller."

I rolled my eyes and leaned on the center console. "She's the one with the husband and baby."

He scoffed, "So is half the world. You have a tough time being proud of your accomplishments."

I gasped. "Look who's talking. My god!"

Alex chuckled and it felt like food for my soul. Fertilizer to my soil to keep growing. "Fair enough. But be cocky every once and a while, Janie. You deserve it."

I took what he said to heart but ignored him. I wanted to talk about something else. I wanted to put my feet in his lap and ride to Charlton Brook. Instead, I leaned back and looked at him. "We used to talk about the future so much and now it's come and gone."

"You're not dead yet." But we were. I think that's what I really meant. All those things I had planned with him and I had to be content with letting them go. Watching those promises slip through my fingers. I had no right to feel that way but it's all I felt.

I wanted to tell him I loved him with the windows rolled down and the cold air rushing in because he used to let me do that. I believe that right had been revoked. "I missed it here." The truth was hidden in those words, in between the lines, deep in those letters, stuffed in between them.

He hummed, glancing over. "Me too. Everything feels a little simpler."

I heard the radio speaking, ringing some familiar tune that I couldn't think of the name. Maybe if it had been a little simpler and Alex and I stayed there forever, in the car ride between Wakefield and High Green, we'd have a house, a garden, a ring, a little thing on the way. 

But I would've missed out on a lot more. I would have missed out on a lot of Alex. How he was with his hair long in the middle of Joshua Tree, looking over at me instead of the night sky. How he made up our bed in our London studio apartment into a couch because we didn't have enough space for one. How he felt sitting next to me on the C train at 2 AM. How he felt in the dead of winter in Yorkshire, somehow ending up at my hotel with a hoodie I used to wear and a smile he still wears just for me.

I'll never know otherwise. And that's fine.

*

a/n: this was a struggle but i think it landed right in the end. much, much more to come.

[batcavescolony]

A Batfam AU where instead of going to get Dick to be Robin again Tim uses necromancy to bring Jason back from the dead. He just leaves Jason on the Wayne doorstep with a 'do better this time' sticky note. Batman can't find out who did it and Tim stays his little latchkey self with semi ok but distant parents (cus canonical they weren't really abusive just not there which isn't good but they could be worse). His parents bring him along on trips but again they love him but they just leave him to do as he pleases. so in Paris he ends up still getting trained by Lady Shiva. This keeps going and Tim just keeps reviving batfam members, if they fake their deaths and Tim tracks them down to check on them. They still have no idea who their shadow is, they can't find him, Tim likes it this way. Bruce goes MIA and Red Robin happens just minus Tim actually being Red Robin. The JLA doorstep gets a passed-out Batman with a 'I can't believe I have to keep doing this shit' sticky note on his head.

[rin-solo]

You are absolutely correct to point this out. Tagging @glisten-inthedark because this feels like something you'll enjoy. The whole "7 years aren't as long for a god as for a human" thing aside, this just beautifully shows how differently they view each other.

To Odysseus, Poseidon was never more than just another obstacle to getting home. A much more competent, dangerous obstacle than any other, but still just an obstacle that he had no particular or special feelings toward beyond, "I have to avoid this guy." Then he spends 7 years at Calypso's and naturally forgets all about Poseidon because he just doesn't assume that Poseidon would care about him that much either.

... But Poseidon does. And that's the beautiful irony of it all ... To Poseidon, Odysseus is so much more than just a mortal who blinded his son that one time; if the Vengeance saga proves anything, it's this. Think about it—he doesn't mention Polyphemus at all anymore in this saga. Instead, he admits straight out that he's avenging "his reputation"—a fancy way of saying, "I'm hunting you for myself and my own reasons now."

And he does. He waited for him—not because of his son but because of himself. Because he does feel something for Odysseus as a person, be it hatred, indignation, or something entirely else. Whatever it is, it's personal for him, and for him alone.

He cares so much about being the one to kill him that he waits for a decade (even if that's only akin to, like, 10 weeks or something for a god, that's still 10 weeks of camping in front of someone's house to get their attention!) I don't think anyone would shame or fault him for letting Odysseus live anymore either, like I've seen some people say, especially since it was Zeus' decree that Odysseus be released.

No, Poseidon waited for Odysseus because Poseidon wanted to wait for him. Poseidon remembered Odysseus because he was "something" to him, as opposed to Odysseus, who just straight up forgot or assumed he got bored and/or had better things to do with his immortal life (a very fair assumption, honestly.) The fact that Poseidon didn't get bored and didn't have better things to do with his life tells us so much about his character that I could write a whole essay on it ... I've covered parts of it in my Get In The Water analysis and also this lil thing, but I might write a full essay on this someday.

And that's the beautiful, poetic, almost ... tragedy of it all since it's so clearly one-sided: Odysseus feels nothing—no hatred, no attachment, not even enough to consider he might still be after him—whereas Poseidon feels ... everything? A lot, at least.

It's literally a case of "the opposite of love isn't hate (or the other way around, either work); it's indifference." Odysseus is indifferent. But what you, dear god of tides, have is a very serious case of obsession. You might want to—oh, no, he can't hear me; he's passed out on some rock shore, bleeding profusely. We can only hope that being defeated, humiliated, and confronted with his vulnerability in this manner didn't only deepen his obsession. Why do I have a bad, bad feeling about this though ...

My favorite thing in Epic that we don't talk enough about is that during the Circe and Thunder sagas, Odysseus was pretty much aware that Poseidon was after him. But in Vengeance saga, considering his reaction at Poseidon's appearance in "Get in the Water", he kinda thought that Poseidon must've forgotten and let go until that time. BUT HE DIDN'T. THE MAN WAS OBSESSED WITH ODYSSEUS FOR SEVEN YEARS

[sysig]

It’s hard to put on a bright face, in spite of everything (Patreon)

[strawbrains]

Im gonna complain again cuz if I don't who will. Anyways, my ex and ex friends were heinous fake allies and absolutely awful lmao. Very clear to me now that I was just the "good jew" replacement for their ex jewish friend and as soon as I started breaking from how awful they were treating me they all started comparing me to their perception of that other person. Who probably wasn't even that bad to begin with tbh they all probably pushed them to their limits too with all the antisemitism, lesbophobia, and unhealthy dynamics I dunno. Shit was fucked.

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐍𝐄 ❞

❝ SATORU GOJO IS THE HONORED ONE - AND HE'S MORE THAN HONORED TO BREED YOU ! ❞

✧ pairing: gojo satoru x sorcerer!reader

✧ summary: it's your duty as the wife of the clan head to help your husband get dressed -- even for battle. but that didn't mean he couldn't spend some time undressing you. aka fucking gojo in his shinjuku showdown outfit

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, canon compliant, feral gojo, Ijichi featured, dom!gojo, breeding kink, dirty talk, oral (f), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), mirror sex, clothed sex, creampie, implied multiple rounds, multiple positions, swearing,

✧ w/c: 7,946

✧ now playing: feature one of sab's kinktober

“Perfect,” 

The word slips from your lips without a second thought as you slip the haori over his shoulders, snow locks against the coal colored silk, slick as steel and light as a feather, yet carrying the heft of expense. 

Just as your husband did. 

Little words could describe Satoru Gojo — the most common being the strongest — unmatched strength that matched his flawless appearance and even more unsullied skill set. Curses would sooner exorcise themselves rather than face him, and those who didn’t, well, they did not have long to linger on their mistake. 

But you didn’t think of him as the strongest. No, your husband was so much more than that. A teacher. A mentor. A friend. An idiot (but he would insist that he was your idiot, and he very much was). And he was perfect. 

A remark you knew many would balk at,  and even now — as you dressed your husband, at his insistence, fingers helping him pull the fabric over his body, before smoothing it over his muscle and the word fell from you without a second thought — you caught glimpse of a grimace on Ijichi’s face in the mirror. 

“Ijichi, you should go before I slap the shit out of you for your expression,” Ijichi squeaks in horror before slipping from the room, quiet click of the door welcoming silence, only for a moment, “what was that again, sweetheart?” 

You roll your eyes, “should I really indulge you in making your ego any bigger? You may defeat Sukuna with just the sheer size and weight of it,” you tease, fingers smoothing and adjusting his haori. 

“Think that would be a victory either way, sweetheart,” his fingers find yours, weaving with your own — miraculously soft even with bearing the weight of the world in his hands alone, “but I don’t want to win in such a boring way, especially to Sukuna,” 

“And why’s that?” His lips curl. 

“Because I have to look cool in front of my precious students, don’t I?” you see a hint of sadness linger in his gaze — and you hear the unspoken words, especially Megumi, but the smile slides back on as usual,  “I can’t have myself embarrassing myself can I? You’d never let me live it down,” 

“Oh, no I wouldn’t,” your fingers slide up to cup his cheek, “but you’d expect nothing less from your wife, now would you?” 

And he grins, just as he did the day he had proposed to you, at the classroom at Jujutsu Tech where you first met, deep reds and oranges flooding the wood paneled room, painting it as it only could in the evenings, but even the sun paled in comparison to Satoru on his knee, lips curled in your favorite smile — the very one he gave you every day. 

“My wife,” he hums, and you have to stop yourself from biting your lip and tense your muscles so you didn’t jump him then and there. 

“What about it?” he runs the back of his fingers over your cheek. 

“Just glad I convinced you to let us get married early,” not that it took much convincing at all — only a single look after he was unsealed and several minutes of making out later, and he had gotten Ijichi to get the registration and paperwork for him — the very papers Satoru had prepared before Shibuya, “because now you’re stuck with me, wifey,” 

You chuckle, your fingers finding his as they brushed your cheek, turning your head to kiss his fingers, “I’ve been stuck with you from the moment we met,” 

And you had been — you hadn’t known peace since he had thrown that Jujutsu Tech classroom door open all those years ago, with a welcome party prepared for you and the other first years, microphone in hand as he introduced each of you. And it wasn’t his strength or his skill or even his stupidity that charmed you — but the goddamn smile on his lips. 

Funny, how everyone was so preoccupied with his eyes, when every inch of his was just as captivating— 

“Think you’re going to lose me now, Toru?” You rub your thumb across the length of his cheek, “don’t know if I could ever live without you,” 

“Oh yeah?” he wraps his arms around your waist, his warm form enveloping you, “no regrets?” 

“Only one,” and he tilts his head, blues gleaming with the low light of the room, catching like sunlight against waves, as your fingers traced down to the smooth silk of his clothes, “that we never got married in a formal ceremony,” 

“If I recall, you were in just as much of a rush as me,” his lips graze your jaw, threads of heat slipping up and down every inch of your body, a kiss pressed to the soft skin behind your ear, “you barely wanted to even have the small ceremony we did,” 

“That’s because someone kept touching me while I got ready,” and he did, as you changed into a dress you selected for the small ceremony — or rather you tried, as his warm palms slid up your body, his mouth covering your soft gasps and protests, “or do you forget that you nearly fucked me against the wall right outside the room we were going to marry?” 

“It’s not my fault my wife is so tempting, they say my technique is deadly, but you yourself are far more dangerous,” he hummed, another kiss against your cheek, as his thumb and forefinger cups your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze in the mirror,  “why the want a formal ceremony anyway? If I remember, you said formal ceremonies were only for the attendees rather than the couple,” 

“Well, maybe I saw something that changed my mind,” or someone in something—

“Oh? And what could change my incredibly stubborn wife’s mind?” 

You hate him — hate the teasing glint in his gaze because he knows exactly why, as he noses the hollow of your neck, lips grazing your flushed skin, “You know why,” and he does, he sees it in the way your gaze lingers across his body, the way you shiver when his palm slips down your hip only to squeeze, and in the soft sound that leaves your lips when his fingers trace down your chin to the valley of your chest. 

“I’d like to hear you say it, sweetheart,” he presses himself flush to your back, heat seeping through the fabric, just as his breath warmed your skin, “don’t tell me you forgot how to use your words,” 

“You’re the worst,” and his chuckle reverberates against you, sending a shiver up your body, his hands sliding down the front of your shirt until he reaches the hem, fingers toying with the fabric. 

“And what does that make you since you married me?” 

“A fool,” your lips curl, his eyes meeting yours, “but a very smart one,” and he clicks his tongue. 

“So smart and yet she can’t answer a simple question,” you sigh, and his fingers, finally, slide underneath against your bare stomach. 

“You just want me to stroke your ego,” and he grins at you in the mirror, robes nearly engulfing your form now. 

“Oh, that’s not all I want you to stroke,” your snort is cut off by a gasp as his palms slide under your bra, “I’ll just keep teasing you until you break,” and his fingers tease your pert nipples, a wave of heat headed straight for your cunt, “and y’know I can, wifey.” 

~~~

“Hngh, Toru, please—” 

Satoru doesn’t know what he loves more — the sound of his name on your lips, desperation on your tongue, the same tongue that he had tasted again and again or the sight of you below him, spread out on his desk, papers and books long crumpled and pushed onto the floor — but he doesn’t need to choose a favorite thing when it comes to you. 

Because every single thing is his favorite. 

“If you want me to stop, you can try, sweetheart,” he presses a kiss to your thigh, teeth grazing the soft flesh, another mark blooming among the rest, a field of reds and purples he could spend hours exploring, “don’t know how far you’d get,” 

His fingers press your thighs further apart, with the barest hint of strength, and you’re still utterly restrained under his touch — a lovely butterfly pinned for his viewing — and what a view it was. 

“Fucker,” you pout at him half-heartedly, your kiss ruined lips and fucked out gaze doing nothing to help your case, “we were supposed to be getting you dressed for—“ 

“Then there’s no problem,” his fingers tug your blouse over your head, your bra askew from his eager fingers, and his hand reaches around to undo the clasp. But he doesn’t pull it away with his fingers, but instead bends down to  away the intruding garment, “because you’re the only one getting undressed, sweets,” 

There was something about the thought — and the sight — of you completely bare for him, at his mercy naked and vulnerable, while he stood clad in the clothes meant for battle. His cock twitched, he supposed this was a battle of kind — as he pushed his sleeves up — a battle of how many times he could cum inside you. 

“Satoru—“ you squeal as he nearly rips away your panties, leaving you bare for him, your thighs closing on reflex, only for him to press them back apart, “fuck—“ 

“That’s what I’m trying to do, sweetheart,” he clicks his tongue, bringing your soaked panties to his nose to smell, before pocketing them, a grin on his lips, “a good luck charm,” 

You gape at him, half horrified and half amused at the thought of the Gojo elders somehow finding out that the Gojo clan head’s clothes had been defiled by your underwear — though you were sure they expected nothing less from Satoru Gojo.  

But even so, you can’t bring yourself to complain, “You don’t need luck to win,” and he scoffs lightly, his warm palm sliding up your thigh, lips pressing hot kisses up your shin, right to your knee, “you just need to know I’ll kick your ass if you don’t make it back in one piece to me,” your fingers run through his soft locks, before tracing over his cheek. 

“I know, and the thought of you waiting for me is all I need,” he turns to your hand, lips pressing a kiss against the cool metal of your wedding ring, “and it wasn’t for that,” and he’s shifting, settling fully between your thighs, lips inches from your sopping pussy, “it’s for making sure I can breed you right,” 

His fingers brush against your fluttering walls, index finger tracing the outer walls with the very tip, pulling and tugging until you were spread out completely, messy pussy on display just for him. You couldn’t squirm under his the wet squelch making your cheeks burn, “S-stop teasing, just—“ 

You moan as he sinks a thick finger into you, knuckle deep and fast, “So needy for someone who was whining a second ago about stopping,” it doesn’t take long for a second finger to join, stretching out your perfect pussy, warm walls pulling him deeper each time he pulled out, his wrist and palm drenched in your juices, “but y’know I can’t stop, wifey, it’s our duty, right? Duty to produce an heir, but more importantly,” And a third finger sinks inside, as he peers up at you, lips parted in a sweet moan that makes his cock throb, ready to bust without a single touch, because he doesn’t need touch — not when it’s you under him, “my duty to fuck and yours to be fucked,” 

And your cunt squeezes his fingers at his vulgar words, a coil growing tighter in the pit of your stomach, heat building, as you can’t help moan his name, “and how will we fulfill our duty if I don’t prepare you, huh? Gotta make sure you’re ready, hm?” 

His thumb rubs over your aching clit, the lewd noises of your slick nearly white noise to your ears as pleasure builds, every muscle taut underneath his touch. He’s pumping faster and harder, nails dragging over your walls, until his fingers find that spot you love — the one he knows how to hit again and again, and he does. 

Your head lolls back against the desk, pleasure ripping up your spine, “I’m—“ 

And that’s the only warning you give before you cum, name on your lips as your back arches, as he fingerfucks you through your orgasm, working you down from your high. You're panting, chest heaving as he slowly eases his fingers from you, the emptiness making you whine. 

Your eyes flutter open to the sight of him licking his fingers clean of your cum, tongue darting across his lips, a glint in his eyes.

“You’re so sweet I can never get enough of you,” and he lifts a finger to your lips, letting you taste yourself on his digit, obediently closing your mouth around it, until he’s dragging it out, pulling at your bottom lip, “you’re dripping from both lips aren’t you?” 

“That’s your fault,” god, you’re too fucking cute, thighs twitching as he leaned down to your soaked cunt, a pretty flushed pink, “you made a mess,” and his tongue licks a stripe up your leaking walls, sparks blooming from the hot muscle flicking against your hard clit. 

“Then I guess it’s my responsibility to clean you up,” 

Satoru Gojo is always too much — it’s too much the way his tongue drags over the seam of your cunt, it’s too much when his nose bumps against your clit when he buries his face in your pussy, your fingers curling in his white locks, and it’s too much when you feel his grunts and moans resonate against your drenched folds. 

It was too much. 

“How are you so soft?” He mumbles, words whispered against your puffy clit before he kisses it, “you say I don’t play fair but you were unfair from the moment I met you,” he reaches down, palming at his erection, “and I knew you’d be mine,” Your eyes find his lips less than an inch from your pussy, chin and lips shiny with your cum and his spit, “you and this sweet pussy,” 

And he’s slurping every ounce of your essence you give him, greedily lapping at you as if he’d rather drown in your juices than breath real air, “fuck, Toru, slow down—“ toes curling as you 

He clicks his tongue, your head rolling back as your nails dig into his scalp, “You shouldn’t lie, sweets, not when this pretty girl is so honest,” the only sound being the wet squelch of your 

“Satoru Gojo!” A familiar voice rings out followed by several knocks, “how long do you expect to keep us waiting?” 

Fuck. And there was the reason you two were getting sresssd to begin with — a showing before Gakuganji and the Gojo clan before the battle with Sukuna. A showing Satoru agreed to undoubtedly to fuck with them — and you, now, for that matter, as he sucks at your clit again, your hand flying to cover your mouth. 

“Didn’t know you were waiting. Thought keeping you waiting would have sent you the right message,” Satoru replies, words said nearly against your wet cunt, breath warming your folds, a shiver working it’s way up your spine, “do you all need to see me in my clothes for battle that badly? I’ll have to start to suspect other motives — and while I’m flattered, with how flattered I can be from a bunch old geezers, I am a married man—“ 

“You insolent brat—“ his tirade falls on deaf ears as you try to urge Satoru off, but he doesn’t, only pinning your hips in place, hands locked under your knee, as he tugs you closer. 

And he only grins, “Don’t tell me you’ll let this old coot distract us, sweetheart? Gonna make me insecure, does my wife not like this as much as her pussy does?” He groans his fingers, spreading your walls apart, parting them to see your cum and pre leak, only for him to lap it up, “because you’ve gotten wetter, haven’t you?” 

“T-Toru, I swear to god, I’ll—“ you half whisper, half hiss, and he sinks two fingers inside your needy walls, his tongue and fingers doing nothing to keep quiet as the squelch of your folds only grows louder as he drags his fingers inside every inch of you, while his tongue busies itself with your clit. 

“You’ll what, wifey?” he hums, making you whimper, “leave? You know you don’t want that. We could make a show of it, should I open these doors and let everyone see how needy you are for me,” and you can’t help the gasp that parts your lips, walls clenching around his fingers, “maybe then those geezers will see why I chose you,” 

“Satoru! Are you even listening?” 

“You can say whatever you want to me here,” Satoru sinks a third finger inside, teasing your clit with chaste kisses, “I’m not leaving this room for the rest of the night,” 

Gakuganji pounds at the door, but you barely hear it, heart pounding in your ears, as you barely muffle your moans behind your clenched fist, “Disgraceful, do you think this is anyway to behave—“ you’re so close, too close, ready to cum as he pumps his fingers once, twice, three times — hitting your sweet spot again and again—you feel yourself reach that peak—

Only for him to stop. The whine that leaves your lips is a little too loud, just as his smirk is a little too wide. 

Fucking asshole. 

Satoru chuckles, teasing you open with his fingertips, just carding your folds barely open at all, pulling small gasps and moans muffled against clenched fingers, “Aw, c’mon, you don’t think being sealed up in that box taught me anything? You should know it only made me take what I want,” Satoru pulls his fingers from inside you, licking up the side of his digits,  “and what I want is right here,” he leans back down, “so tell me and leave,” 

“Even so, I need to speak to you alone,” 

“It’s only me and my wife. You can tell her anything you tell me, she’s the more responsible one after all,” he punctuates it by his teeth grazing your clit, making your hips jerk underneath him, his hand covering your mouth, your fingers curling over his. He grins down at you as he kisses your thigh, “My wife is indisposed at the moment,” 

You don’t hear what Gakuganji says as his fingers sink back inside all at once, fingers rough as they fucked you open in earnest, but you hear Satoru scoff nonetheless. 

“Get your mind out of the gutter, you old geezer — she’s just lying down,” and he adds with a whisper, curling his fingers just right, “and getting her brains fingerfucked out,” and your pretty eyes are full of tears, cries muffled against his fingers, spit soaked, as he feels your walls clamp around his fingers, “what do you think? Should I let him in, sweetheart? Let him see how you well you get fucked by me, hear you scream my name when you cum for me?” 

Nerves on fire from his touch, he’s just adding fuel to the fire, and you’re bucking into his fingers, wanting his fingers deeper even a little—

“No, I don’t think so,” his lips curl as he leans down, cerulean glinting in the low light, as your walls give that tell tale flutter, “because this pretty cunt is just for me,” and he sucks hard at your clit, just as he pulls his hand away, “cum.” 

And you do, pleasure ripping through every inch of you as your back arches upwards into his touch, as he holds you against his face, cumming against his fingers and lips. 

It’s heaven, buried in your sweet cunt as you cum, hot release against his tongue that he laps up greedily, the wet squelch of your pussy along with your lips crying out his name again and again. doing nothing to ease the throbbing between his thighs. 

And when he finally does pull away, licking his lips and chin clean of your release, he watches you coming down from your high — eyes fluttering open slowly as your chest heaves, pussy split open just for him, your cum staining parts of his pants shirt and haori. 

Fuck, he’ll have to see everyone off like this — your cum on his clothes — and his dick twitches, as he leans down to press kisses along your body, with you shivering as he does. And he wants nothing more than this moment to last, with you beneath him, the taste of you on his lips, and the sounds of your soft pants filling his ears. 

That is until, you flipped him, back hitting the plush of the mattress, “sweets—“ 

“Did you forget? It’s a wife’s duty to serve her husband,” and your fingers are as deft as they are possessed — grazing over the bulge in his pants, a hiss before pulling the drawstrings apart, “isn’t that right, husband?” 

Fuck, he bites his lip as he watches you tug his trousers down, his erection slaps his stomach, hard and leaking through the fabric of his boxers, a large dark stain of precum from his weeping tip. 

Fuck, your cunt ached at the sight of him — no matter how many times you saw his cock, you couldn’t get over just how long he was — it was a miracle you were able to take him without breaking your cunt, though he’d gotten far too close. 

“And I thought you said we couldn’t undress me,” his cock twitches as your fingers trace over the dripping slit through the drenched material. 

Your eyes don’t meet his, still fixed on his hard on, “if the clothes are on you, does it even count as undressing?” 

And your fingers dip into the elastic of his boxers before snapping it against his skin, making him jolt, “should I stop then, oh honored one?” You rub your thumb over his slit harshly, a gasp falling from his lips as his head lolls back, “maybe I should go get Gakuganji, let you have your meeting,” 

“Playing dirty doesn’t suit you, sweetheart—“ and you pull his boxers down, pooling around his knees just as his pants did, cold air hitting his cock making him hiss. 

“Like I said,” your palms slide up his body, from his waist, and under his shirt, to his chest, stealing the breath from his lungs, “should I stop?” 

He looks up at you, lungs filled with heat instead of air, lips hovering an inch from his leaking erection. 

“Fuck no.” 

~~~

You’d be the death of him. 

There was no mistake about it. 

Satoru Gojo only had one weakness—and you were sitting on top of him. Your hair disheveled with your fingers running through them, lips kiss bitten and ruined even as your teeth grazed your bottom lip, and your gaze molten and only for him — just for him. 

And you called him perfect. 

A groan leaves his chest as your tongue flicks against his slit, salty precum swallowed by eager lips. He’s hypnotized by you, fingers reaching for you, as his thumb drags down your puffy bottom lip, parting your mouth for him, tongue darting out to lick the pad of his finger. Fuck, your mouth is so sweet, but how is it so wicked all the same? 

“Fuck, sweets, how do you look so good on your knees f’me? S’not fair,” and your forefinger traces his pretty veins from base to tip, running over every curve and inch that would be buried in your tight cunt soon enough, his hips jumping against your touch, “g’nna make me cum before you even touch me,” 

“If you’re gonna cum anywhere, it better be on me,” your lips curl at the shiver that runs down his body, your fingers sliding up his thigh as your fingers slide the pre down his length, fingers slowly pumping him. 

“Fuuuuck, just like that, can’t wait to bury myself in your sweet pussy, wifey—“ your lips kiss his slit, sucking as your fingers toyed with his balls, feeling far too tight from your touch, a moan cutting off his words. 

“G’tta find a way to shut you up somehow, Toru,” you spit on his cock, pressing teasing kisses up and down his begging length, “or maybe we can find a gag,” 

You’ll kill him before he even gets a chance to fight Sukuna, and he’d die a happy man. 

His precum drips down your chin, painting your lips, tongue darting out to lick it off your skin, “s’fucking good for me,” the praise sending a wave of heat right to your cunt, hot cum slipping down your thighs — and you finally let his cock slip past your lips. 

A whine leaves his throat, his head lolls back, your pretty mouth wrapped around his dick, soaking his length, hips jerking against your mouth. Half muttered apologies, he couldn’t look away from the sight of you on your knees for him — mouth stuffed full of his cock with glassy eyes from the soreness of your jaw as you bobbed your head up and down his length. Just watching his dick go and in out of your pretty fucking lips, drenched in your spit and his pre, was enough to make him want to cum then and there. 

But he wasn’t the only one. 

Small whimpers and moans reverberate against his cock, tongue flicking against his veins, when his eyes flicker down, nails nearly digging into your scalp as he sees you two fingers deep in your cunt, the wet sounds of your pussy mixing with the squelches of his cock in your mouth. 

“Fuck, such a nasty girl I married, huh?” He runs his fingers through his hair, entranced by the sight of you fucking yourself open with your fingers, your mouth growing sloppily as you do, “does fucking my dick turn you on this much? You’ve soaked the sheets,” he chides, wide smirk undercutting any iota of scolding, while you meet his gaze with a glare, “Aw, what? Can’t take it—“ 

His words are cut off as you take him deep, too bumping against your throat, and his fingers curl in his locks. 

“Shit—“ Your fingers graze his balls again before squeezing, hard, he nearly busts them and there, but he can’t, not yet — his fingers weave into your locks to slowly pull you off, strings of spit and pre connecting your — not when he hasn’t fucked your pretty cunt yet. 

Your eyes are dilated, dark with pleasure as his gaze meets your own, a mix of his pre and your spit slipping from the corner of your mouth, “You haven't cum yet—“ and his fingers wrap around your wrist and pull your fingers from inside yourself. 

You yelp as he flips you over in an instant, hitting the mattress with a bounce, large palms sliding up your thighs, as he presses your knees to your chest. 

“The only place I’m cumming, sweetheart,” as he drags the swollen head of his cock against your needy folds, watching his precum smear against your twitching folds, before lifting your soaked fingers to his lips, “is inside your sweet cunt.” 

“Toru—please—“ and you’re so needy, just for him, your fingers finding the front of his scarf before tugging him close, a gasp chased away by a grin as he sees the pure desperation in your eyes, “I need you,” 

“I’m right here, sweets,” and he’s leaning down to dot sweet kisses down your body — against your neck, the bridge of your collarbone, the swell of your breasts. “You’re going to have to be more specific,” 

“Fucker,” he laughs. 

“Now you’re getting closer,” and he does too, bumping the head of his weeping erection against your puffy clit, as your folds feel as if they’ll part for him in an instant, “this pretty girl is more honest than you are,” he’s parting your folds with his tip only to pull out. 

A whine turns to a scowl, as you tug him even closer by his scarf, “I swear to god, if you don’t fuck me, I’ll strangle you with this—“ and he sinks into you. 

Fuck, you swear you feel every goddamn inch, vein, and curve as he works himself into your tight cunt, walls fluttering as if beckoning him deeper—and he was only too happy to oblige. 

“Toru, s’too big,” your whining only makes his cock throb inside you as he bottoms out inside, “s’too much,” 

“Too much? No, sweets, this dick was made to fuck you,” he grunts, taking every iota of his self control not to thrust into you and bury his cum deep in your womb — no, he wanted this to last, “and this pussy was made for my cum,” he rolls his hips against you swallowly, his tip brushing against your cervix, as both of your heads roll back. 

“How are you so tight? Pleasure rips up your spine as he begins a steady pace of fucking you, sounds of skin smacking together ringing in your ears, “you’re fucking wet and yet you have me in a vice grip,” his clothes rub against you, your slick soaking through the fabric, “should I go meet with the elders like this? Let them see the Gojo clan’s haori soaked by your juices,” fingers pressing your legs apart wider and higher, divots in your flesh from his touch. 

Your walls squeeze at his words, mouth falling open wordlessly as he grunts, “F-fuck,” you can only manage to say, chest heaving as you grasp at the front of his haori, pulling him needlessly closer, “f-faster—“ and he grins. 

He was more than happy to oblige. 

He rails into you at a pace impossible for anyone but Satoru Gojo. And your gasp fades into a drawn out moan that makes him only want to fuck you harder and faster — he needed to bury himself in your cunt until all you remembered was how to moan his name. 

“You take me so well, so deep,” his hand laces with yours and guides it to the bulge in your stomach, “see how deep you take me? Good girl,” the praise makes you keen, sending another wave of pre to soak his dick, and he chuckles, “gonna fit my baby so well too,” 

Your mouth falls open as his dick ruts against you, bullying your pussy open, “W-what?” 

“Y’think we’re gonna leave this bed before I’ve filled you up?” And he punctuates his words with each roll of his hip, “nah, this cunt is all mine tonight,” his thumb drags down your lips, pressing against your tongue, spit leaking out as you groaned, “and so are you,” 

And you’re sucking at his thumb, teeth grazing it before brushing it away to lean up to meet his lips in a bruising, messy kiss — all spit and teeth and tongue, as your hips meet his thrusts, tip finally finding that sweet spot that has your back arching and your eyes rolling back. 

“Toru, fuck, I’m g’nna—“ and you’re cumming, hard, orgasm hitting every inch of your body at once, nerve endings shot with pleasure as he fucks you through it — fucking relentless (or should you say limitless?). Satoru grunts as your walls clamp down on him, the wet squelch of your pussy only growing louder among your pants and moans. He watches the white ring of cum wrap around the base of his cock as it split you open, and all he wanted to do was cum inside you. 

He needed to. 

But he’s pulling out suddenly, a gasp ripped from your lips at the emptiness, before he’s pulling you into his lap, your back pressed to his chest, an arm around you to keep you from squirming. 

“What are you—“ your sentence cuts off as he teases your far too sensitive entrance with the head of his cock, “T-toru,” 

And his other hand snakes around to cup your chin, forcing you to meet your own gaze in the mirror. 

You’re a mess — sweat slicked and naked, your skin littered with blooming red marks dotting up and down your body, your nipples pebbled and hard under his touch, and your cunt on full display, his fingers slipping down to spread them, as if to show you where he just was. 

And he was — hulking behind you, his whole form enveloping you as his cock pushed against your needy entrance. His haori disheveled and his hair askew from your fingers running through it, skin shiny with sweat, skin beautifully flushed, and his eyes filled with lust and his smile far too pleased with himself as he watched you squirm. 

Your eyes squeeze shut, “Don’t wanna be the only one to watch me cum inside you, you should enjoy the view too,” he’s finally sinking to you again, body falling back against him as he sheathed himself in you fully again, “look at how well you take me,” 

And his fingers are cupping your chin, spit slipping from your mouth, as he forced you to look again, see the bulge in your stomach as he slowly began to fuck you, his grunts and moans hot against your ear, “y’know, I’m beginning to really believe you were made for me, sweets, the only one for me,” and he’s emphasizing it with a thrust, “you’re the only one I can even imagine wanting, even just thinking of you is enough for me,” his words do nothing but make you grow tighter as he fucks upwards into you, as he spots your eyes shut again, “c’mon baby, watch me fuck you,”

So you do, watch as his cock slides in and out of your cunt, the wet noises and squelch almost too much for you to bear, the all too familiar knot in your stomach growing ready to snap. His fingers slide up your body to pinch and tease your sensitive nipples, already flushed from his attention. He’s murmuring sweet words, but you don’t hear any of them — you’re gone, lost in the pleasure, in the sweet stretch of your pussy around his cock, unable to look away as he fucks into you. 

“S’good for me, sweets, I’m close,” and he’s pulling you down flush against him, cock buried to the base as his tip brushes against your g-spot with every thrust, his lips pressing needy kisses to the side of your neck, “fuck, g’nna cum—” 

“Cum inside me, fill me up, Toru,” and he groans your name, turning your head to find your lips in a sloppy kiss, tongue wrapped around yours just as his cock hits the deepest part of your tight cunt and his fingers rub against your clit. 

And you’re squirting, gushing over his lap and cock, pulling your lips from him as you moan his name, as he rails into you through your orgasm, until he notches himself as deep as he can before he’s cumming too, hot release painting your walls as he fills you up. He’s fucking his cum into you. 

You both grow slack as he slows his movements, relaxing against his body, murmuring soft praises as he slowly pulls himself from inside, clicking his tongue, as he watches his cum slip out of you. 

“Sweetheart, how will you fulfill your duty if you let my cum slip out like that?” he kisses your cheek, before he’s gathering the cum on his fingers to stuff it back inside, drawing a gasp from your lips, “maybe I’ll just fill you up again, hm?” 

His softening cock twitches at the thought, as you lean into him, shifting as you feel just how wet you’ve gotten him…and his clothes. 

Fuck. 

“Toru, how are you going to fight in these clothes tomorrow?” you cover your burning cheeks, “it’s drenched,” 

“It’ll dry,” you snap your head to him to glare at him, and he pouts, “what? It’ll be like you’re fighting with me—” 

“I swear if I have to live with the knowledge you fought the king of curses with my cum all over you, I’ll kill you—” 

“And if I’m not alive—”

“I will bring you back to life, just to kill you,” and your palm slides against the slant of his cheek, “and you’re not going to die, I forbid it,” 

He chuckles, his lips leaning down to meet yours in a sweet kiss, “Then I better not now, huh?” 

~~~

“You’ll come home to me, won’t you?” 

It hadn’t been a question, not until now, now when you’re faced with the reality of the day pressed against you as day breaks over December 24th. Daylight seeped into the bedroom, his thumb tracing a lazy circle against the divot of your hip, a soft smile on his lips, with his arms wrapped around you. 

Atlas long having shifted the sky to your husband’s shoulders, from the second he existed in his world — but for a moment, you feel it too. Not like him — never like him, even when you tried to bear it with him. But you never could understand, no matter how you tried to.  

But you tried — his fingers lacing with yours, engulfing yours with his warmth, as he lifted your intertwined fingers to his lips. 

“Where else would I go, sweets?” And you didn’t want to think of the other possibilities, to say the words out loud and manifest them as some cruel jujutsu god’s intention. Because when were these gods ever kind? “I only belong in one place — two if you count the mochi place in Sendai,” 

But he doesn’t earn a smile out of you, frown still firmly fixed to your lips, “ouch, not even a pity half smile?” he tilts his head, “sweetheart—“ 

“You said it yourself that the ten shadows is the ultimate counter to infinity,” you hate the words that leave your lips, filling in your mouth like bile, unable to do anything but spit them out like acid, “that and Sukuna’s technique, I’m worried—“ 

“Worrying won’t change the outcome, baby, and I’m not planning on losing,” 

“If you aren’t, then why did you agree to give Yuta your body?” your words were quiet, his movements still, muscles tense as if he had already given up his autonomy to another, “and you didn’t tell me,”

He’s careful with his words, tiptoeing between buried mines— “I didn’t want you to worry about something that wouldn’t happen—“ but still managing to step on one all the same. 

“Bullshit. You thought it would be better for me to find out if push comes to shove?” you laugh, a bitter noise, but all the anger leaves your body, and only fear is left, “I can’t lose you, Toru,” 

“Baby—“ 

“I can’t. I won’t,” you’re being petulant, you know are, but he’s the one person you’re allowed to be childish about, just as he is with you. 

“You won’t, huh?” He wasn’t used to be treated like this — as fragile, as something that’s fleeting, that could slip from fingers as easily as everyone else did. Even as you touched his, fingers tracing the curve of his jaw with the most delicate of touches, as if he’d shatter under your touch, “I don’t think we get a say in that, sweets, unless you had secret meetings with a god I don’t know about,” 

“Satoru—“ 

“Don’t worry I won’t get too jealous—“ and you cover his mouth, yanking him close by his scarf, your forehead pressed to his shoulder. 

“I love you, you absolute idiot, you know that right?” And you feel his lips curl ever so slightly against your fingers, before he presses a soft kiss to your palm, easing it from his mouth, “I love you, I love you so much,” 

“I love you too,” he presses his forehead to yours, “I’ll come back to you, but even if I don’t…I’ll always be with you, you can’t get rid of me, even in death,” 

“Promise?” And he kisses you, soft and languid, thumb rubbing back and forth against your speak. 

“Promise.” 

And Satoru Gojo was never one to break his promises. 

~~~~

Except now. 

The slice cut through the silence of the battlefield with the wet squelch of flesh and blood, followed by two thumps, one soon after the other. 

No, no. This wasn’t true. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. 

It couldn’t be. 

He promised he would come back. He promised he’d live. He promised. 

He can’t leave like this. No, he can heal himself, he can save himself, couldn’t he? RCT like he did before with Toji. And for your eyes flickered around the room, no one could meet your gaze, none except Shoko, who saw the question in your eyes and only frowned before shaking her head, lit cigarette snapping in half as he held it too tight. 

“No, no—“ you didn’t even realize you said the words out loud before you felt everyone’s eyes on you suddenly, before you felt something, a flicker of his cursed energy and you snapped. 

“Ui ui, take me with you,” Kashimo was already on his way to the battlefield, a lightning flash to death’s door, with no fear. 

Yuta says your name softly, “I don’t know if that’s a good—“ your eyes snap to his hard. 

“You have your plans, Yuta, and I have my own, this isn’t a matter of discussion,” you step over to Ui Ui, seeing Yuta’s hands curl into fists, vision averted, “I’m not ready to give up on him,” 

And in a second, you’re in the middle of the battlefield, dust clearing as the distant noises of fighting rings in your ears, but you barely register it, no, not when wind rolls and you see him. 

“Satoru,” 

You’re at his side in an instant, your fingers running over his cheek, the heat leaving his body, cold creeping in, but as your fingers graze his, a quiet murmur of his name, and you see his eyes flutter. 

And it’s immediate. You look to Ui Ui, as your hands are placed on either side of his split body, palms spread against his body, “Take us to Shoko, he’s alive.” 

~~~~

Satoru Gojo was never one to lose. 

But he supposed if he had to lose to anyone, it might as well be the king of curses. But he knows he didn’t really loose, as he watches the snow fall above him, wondering if the cold against his skin was the snow or if it was something else entirely. 

Was this what it was like for Suguru? Is this what he saw? The winter sky, or was it him knelt beside him as his life left his body. 

Maybe he’ll ask him when he goes back, when he sees everyone again. 

And then he hears it — your voice, the quiet murmur of his name, and the brush of your hand against his.  

No, no, he can’t leave. Not if he can help it. Not when you’re here. 

He feels your cursed energy flood his body, the flow of cursed energy through every inch of him, as it keeps his heart beating and his brain alive — a gasp caught in his throat. 

If you want to start anew, head north. If you want to return to your old self, head south. 

There’s only one option. 

He had to head north — even if it meant — he closed his eyes — losing everything, but himself. 

But he’d have you — and that would be more than enough. 

~~~

“Are you enjoying the view?” 

Your lips curl as you stand in the doorway of your bedroom, leaning back against the doorframe, watching your husband dress himself. 

“Always do,” the floorboards creak lowly as you cross the bedroom to your husband’s side, “why do you think I married you?” 

He chuckles, “and here I thought it was because of my incredible personality,” and you snort, as your arms wrap around his middle, your fingers adjusting the obi belt around his waist, “feels like you laughed at that a little too hard, sweetheart,” 

“I just imagined how your students would react at that,” you laugh softly, as you finish adjusting his belt, only to grab his haori, a deep sky blue, as pretty as he is,  “pretty sure they’d disagree, especially after the stunt you pulled—“

And of course, the stunt you were referring to was him coercing you push a box out to his students, only for him to pop out. 

“How many chances would I have to do that? Plus, it was hilarious — did you see their faces?” And you scoff, shaking your head, “Plus, I figured it would be less shocking this way. Surprising them this way changes the focus from what happened to right now,” 

You helped him pull the haori on, guiding his arms in one sleeve and then another, “I think you just being alive was enough of a shock,” you kiss his palm, pressing it against your face. 

And his lips curl, “Well I made a promise didn’t I?” His other hand reaches for you, finding your waist and tugging you close, “and I never break a promise, especially when it comes to my beautiful wife,” 

“Can you call me that yet? We still haven’t had the ceremony yet,” he shakes his head. 

“This is only a formality, something to appease the elders and keep the idea of a clan war at bay,” he scoffs, shaking his head, before shrugging, “but it isn’t so bad,” 

“Why’s that?” And he smiles.  

“Because now we can have no regrets,” and your fingers trace upwards over his face, the scars from his battle bumpy as your fingers run over his soft skin, fingers reaching the blindfold over his left eye, before pushing it up — his cerulean blue eye now a milky white, “except maybe being able to marry you with both eyes,” 

“Like you said, we were already married,” your thumb runs over his shut eye gently, “this is just a formality,”

He leans into your touch, nuzzling your hand, before his arms pull you flush against him, “Then can we be late?” And his lips lean down to press a heated kiss to your neck, voice reverberating against your skin, “because I’d like to enjoy my wife before I have to share her with everyone else,” 

“Toru—“ a soft gasp cuts you off, as his hands slide down your sides to cup your ass, fingers squeezing, “we can’t—“ 

“Oh what will they do? Start without us?” And your resistance is waning as his lips start trailing kisses down your neck, tugging at your kimono if only to pull the fabric down your shoulders, “I promise I’ll be fast,” 

“Last time you promised that, we didn’t even make it out the door—“ and his fingers are already undoing your obi, before sliding up and underneath the silk material, thighs parting under his touch, “god—“ 

“You don’t have to call me ‘god,’ sweetheart,” and his fingers toy with your panties, “look at my wife,” and he’s tilting your gaze to make you look at yourself in the mirror again, “perfect,” 

“Just like my husband,” and his lips curl. 

“Even now?” And your fingers cup his cheek, forcing him to meet your gaze — no longer the look of the strongest or the gaze of the six eyes — just the eyes of your husband, Satoru Gojo. The very gaze he’ll use to look to the future. 

“Especially now.”  

✧ a/n: welcome to the first kinktober fic!! sorry it took a bit T_T. i've been super busy with work and i keep getting sick in weird ways. last week i got hives and this week, my stomach is being a jerk. but i hope you guys enjoyed :) i think the next fic may be 'a cult classic' or 'scream (only for me)' so look forward to that!! thank you to @coffee-and-geto and @gaylatteart for betaing!

✧ taglist: @risuola , @riamallow , @montilyetron , @saccharinesatoru , @notgoodforlife , @aerithsthingss , @satorusmochis , @silvarys , @oracle014 , @jimabenamara , @seijakuu00 , @erwinawesomeness , @staryukis , @idiotgojo , @torubug , @theshylittleelfgirl , @mitsuristoleme , @forest-hashira , @aishies-stuff , @midnaamethyste , @fiannee , @paperstarsthings , @satosuguwifee , @kachntos @meow-satoru , @rowaelinsdaughter , @emonaculate , @hojoslutoru , @strawberry1042 , @fairiesthrum , @shoyosdoll , @gladiatorgladiator , @tojis-ball-sack , @astraecea-silversin , @sleazymac-n-cheesy , @wakashudou , @cstandsforchaos , @yuminako , @zetianzz , @dazailover1900 , @sunamatic , @euphorism , @satowooo , @hawkwithsocks

[goldsbitch]

monaco kiss .wav

Lando's mildly exhibitionist dreams came true. Due to genius sound engineering, the world can now listen to him and his girlfriend having sex, without a clue it's them.

the track mentioned and referenced (no need to listen to it to get the story, go and be free): French Kiss - The Original Underground Mix, Lil'Louis, The World (credit where credit is due)... 05:30 is the timestamp

word count: 7k

warning: smut, minors DNI, p in v, oral sex, voice notes, colapinto level amount of the word "mate"

PS: i rarely do, but I fuckin love this one

If there was ever a place where Lando could spend hours and hours on end, it was the blue couch at Martin Garrix's personal studio. That piece of furniture was the peak of comfy. He'd asked many times where he got it - if only Martin could remember that.

The whole studio has a cozy vibe around it. A safe space for the F1 star to escape the ever-present eyes of the public, a timeless place where he could wind down and sit passively, while his friend digged notes for hits of the future. They'd often sit for hours in silence, just winding down.

To Lando's joy, the ultimate friend chemistry he had with Martin also worked for him and his, not-so-new-anymore, girlfriend Y/N. In fact, the moment these two met, it was clear that Y/N would quickly become a frequent member of their private recording sessions.

But this time, she had to be in a different city due to work, so it was just the boys, the olden days. Back when Lando would actually dabble in DJ'ing. Those days were long gone, but...It wasn't a rare thing that Lando would help and brainstorm ideas, chord progressions or effects applied to the tracks. What the public didn't know was that he was a loud creative force behind some elements in Martin's recent tracks. Lando had almost threatened him, urging to keep this behind closed door. He wasn't gonna Leclerc this one out.

"You look beat, mate," said Martin finally after nearly two hours of staring into track nods. Lando finally looked up from his phone.

"I'm waiting for you to be done, bro," he replied simply, reffering back to their debate regarding this latest track. A pause. "You know my opinion."

Max turned around to face him, only to find a signature overplayed smirk looking back at him. "You know what, I'm a fucking renowned producer, and you have the decency to come and tell me my track is shit?"

Lando did not flinch. This as a fairly normal way they'd speak together. "Well, someone apparently has to," he shot back, challenging Martin to flip out.

"Screw you," he replied and turned back to face his three monitors. Lando waited patiently, knowing that this was his signature first reaction to criticism. He always came around eventually. Max was his friend. And he would do everything to stop him from releasing crap. "Ok," he heard the DJ say, caving in to his doubts. "I am too deep in this track anyway. Tell me what you think."

"Mate, you said you wanted to do something more experimental. You forgot to add boring," Lando deadpanned.

Martin sighed loudly and leaned back to his chair.

"Don't get me wrong, I fucking love how you go from like - what, 120bpm?-"

"135-"

"Yeah, whatever," Lando said, not happy when Martin used his i-know-music-theory-and-you-don't tone. "As I was gonna say, the come down from the fast tempo to the painfully slow one, in the middle of the track, kind of works. It's certainly nothing like I'd heard play anywhere lately. But like, there is nothing in the production that makes it stand out? Like no real build up or interesting sound."

Lando knew it was brutal from him. But he wasn't there to pat his friend on the back. Just like Martin would never fake compliment his on a bad race. To Lando, this was peak friendship.

Martin hit quick save and closed the file abruptly, startling a minor panic in his friend. Did Lando overstep?

"Come on, mate. Don't copout now."

Martin was visibly startled. "Maybe I just need to put this one down for a moment. Lando did not know what to say to that. He might be right.

"Cig break?"

//

They were standing at the small balcony connected to main entrance to the studio, cigarette smokes mixing together. Yeah, Lando did enjoy an occasional smoke break with his friend. A guilty pleasure one might say.

"So, what was the starting point of the track?" he couldn't help but ask, still not happy to see his friend aborting something he'd spend hours on.

Martin gave him an annoyed look, but did not hesitate to reply. "Remember how the conversation I had about techno tracks being awfully predictable?."

Lando eyes shot up. "Wait, that weird chick you ran into in Germany?"

Rarely would Martin blush, but today was a lucky day apparently. A mocking snort came as a reaction from his friend. "Mate, I don't remember ever seeing you so flustered because of a girl." Few weeks ago, Martin had the fortune of meeting someone who he called "the love of his life" in a random club. And that girl had the audacity to leave him on read for hours. Him, Martin Garrix. Infuriating.

"Yeah, well, fuck you. She was real cool, alternative and reminded me of why I got into music in the first place. Let's revisit how insufferable you were when you met Y/N." Lando exhaled, forever happy anytime anyone ever brought up him and Y/N meeting. If it were up to him, that would be the only thing he's talk about. Getting to know her was like the best kind of drunk one can get. Tipsy enough to make everything fun and perfect, and not too much to get lost in it.

"Fuck off, I was never as insufferable as this," he defended, deep down knowing he might have been even worse. But, he and Y/N ended up dating. Poor Martin was desperate even for a reply.

"Whatever," Martin remarked and put his cigarette out in the overflowing ashtray. This small gesture reminded Lando why he was friends with this guy, the precious safe-space he managed to create. If there was a moment to act as a friend, it was this one.

"Shut up and let's get back to the track. We just gotta let loose a bit, that's all," he said, determined to get Martin out of the rut of his own head.

//

They'd been sitting for another hour, the sun long gone from their sight, two vodka soda's mixed from personal studio bar in, dozens of old tracks analyzed.

Martin played the middle section once again. Lando's head was mindlessly nodding into the beat they'd added and it was starting to look kind of good for the track. But it was not exceptional. And if Lando was trying to help Martin get the attention of some pseudo-pretentious alternative chick, they had to step up their game.

"Can you recall any track which uses the same level of tempo slow down? We could like, I dunno, look into why it works when other people did it and maybe something will come up." Lando often drew inspiration from other artists, something Martin usually hated. But, desperate times.

The racer watched the DJ and suddenly, as it was as if the musical equivalent of the DRS just hit him, his eyes went wide and he stood up.

"Of course!" Martin exclaimed and started pacing around the room. Lando was obviously surprised and kept still, hoping for the best, really. He watched his friend, walking back and forth around the room, deep in his own thoughts and searching for something on his phone.

"Yes! That's it," he finally said happily and put a song up to their loud speakers. The excited look he gave to Lando was almost scary. "You're gonna absolutely love this one," he continued with absolute confidence.

Lando prayed for this to be good, otherwise he was going to have to start getting worried about his friend's sanity, based on the crazy eyes.

The song started with a steady, four-on-the-floor beat (or that was what Lando had assumed). It was a typical 1980's techno track, fast, repetitive with a strong bass line.

But they were almost four minutes in and nothing that would stand out in any way was coming out of this track. Lando could not help but give Martin a doubtful look, not really getting what he was excited about. But Martin was there, nodding his head to the beat, in his own world. He must have sensed Lando's so-far-unimpressed expression, so he shot him a quick smile and gestured for him to wait. Finally, something started to happen and just like in Martin's new track, the music started to slow up on the tempo, quite dramatically. It got Lando somewhat hooked. And then-

And then! He thought he was imagining things. That his mind created sounds in his own head out of boredom.

Instead of a new instrumental added a vocal component was added. The most sensual female moan started to dominate the track, as the tempo kept slowing down. Lando felt his stomach dropped and hair and the back of his neck stand. It was sensual, almost vulgar in fact. Like some sort of elegant porn track playing over the original beat. Unapologetic. And it was increasing. What started as a somewhat socially acceptable sigh, turned into a full on orgasm moan - and as the music almost stopped, the female voice was taking on the main stage, full on peak. Thank God the walls were sound proofed. Lando cock was twitching. He tried to ignore Martin, who was grinning like a school boy first time seeing a porn video. And once the voice finally reached a peak, the music started to pick up, leftover moans cutting through the beat. Only then was Lando able to look Martin in the eye and got out of the semi-trance this track got him into. Finally the tempo fully picked up and the nine minute song was over.

"Uhh..." Lando got his initial reaction out and stared into the screen. Martin was there, unable to contain his laughter.

"You look flushed, mate, you good?" he teased, obviously pleased with himself for getting Lando out of his comfort zone.

Lando was finally getting back to Earth and couldn't help but to release a girl-like giggle. "Yeah, mate...I think if you do something like that, you will break the internet almost definitely."

What Martin could not know, because they did not have that kind of a relationship, was that Lando's phone was full of noise recordings of him and Y/N having sex. She was quite a vocal person. And he was a bit of a naughty boy, asked for a permission to record a sex tape nearly dozens of times. His girlfriend was probably right in refusing to do so, given the fact that if a video got out, it would be a disaster for both of them. But, an audio? One without any names mentioned? That was something she felt comfortable. And it as this thing Lando was using to get himself off when he was traveling alone for the past few months. So yeah, Martin hit the nail on its "head" with this one.

Lando gulped, trying to get himself back in the right headspace and not thinking of all the times Y/N screamed and moaned for him while bent over a table or laying in a silky bed.

"I fuckin' love this idea, mate. I'm gonna check with the lawyer team and see if I can go and sample this or something," Martin said, his tone indicating he was happy and done for the day.

"Yeah. This would work," Lando replied, unable to tone his voice down to his usual octave.

//

It was a surreal plane trip home to Monaco. They'd wrapped at the studio and Lando was headed directly to airport. This was proving to be unfortunate, as there was no time for him to go anywhere and take care of the problem growing in his pants. He had never listened to their voice notes in public, but he could not find any sort of self-restraint not to do so that day. Shamelessly walking around the private lounge area with a ragging boner and sex noises blasting in his headphones. He prayed for no fans showing up. At one point he was debating just beating it off in the airport bathroom. A teenager he had not been for a long time now.

And like a cruel joke, a voice memo landed in his messages from Y/N precisely at the time he as about to board his flight.

A part of him hoped it was a voice note of her jerking off. Sadly, it was not.

"Hey, my love, I hope you're all good and will make the flight. I've had such a boring day and can't wait to see you," she said a tone so sweet Lando felt almost guilty for walking around with thoughts of her on all fours, begging for his cock. It brought him back to normal, which was probably for the better. "Anyway, I'll be at home, let me know when you're coming." He smiled, loving the fact they were there for each other even in the innocent sort of way. "Aaah, what a day," she ended the voice note with a moan. A fucking tired sort of sigh. Normally, it would be a very casual thing for Lando. But did it sound like something out of their sex tapes? Of course it fucking did. "Mmmm.." And with that, the voice memo ended and Lando's boner was right back on.

//

"Hi, my love."

"Hello, sweetheart."

It was something he was proud about. Teaching her to sleep naked. Sleeping in clothes is close to committing a crime when she has a body like that. Clothes were for the outdoors anyway. It was doing something to his ego to see she fully accepted that. To his luck, he found Y/N just like he wanted - bare, snuggled up in their bed under a criminal amount of duvets, but most importantly, given his current state, still somewhat awake. She was giving his the most inviting look he'd ever seen on a human.

"Are you hitting the shower?" Y/N asked, pushing the duvet closer to her neck, as if to cover herself for some reason. Lando found that more than amusing and shook his head.

They'd exchanged few pleasantries, mundane questions while we was undressing and finally crawled into the bed with her. As a natural move, she shifted, letting him to be the big spoon. He caressed her hair before stepping in. Changed his tone from casual to bedroom. Finally.

"You and me baby, just us. How it's suppose to be."

Flirting was a second language to Lando and he was not afraid to use it.

"I see you kept the bed warm for us," he said, warmed his hands by blowing his hot breath on both of them. When he was sure that his body adapted from the chilly outdoors air to their hot flat, he started tracing lines on her body and pressed his crotch to her ass, to test her reaction, and see if he got lucky and caught her in the right mood.

He wouldn't be able to see it, due to the fact he was spooning her from behind, but her eyes shot wide open as his ragging boner pressed on her and a cheeky smile crept in. She answered by moving back to him, and arching her back. Loud, horny sighs from Lando followed.

"I see you've been a good boy, am I right?" she whispered sensually.

And fucking yes, he was a good boy. She'd often reward him when he manage to obstain from jerking off when they were suppose to see each other. If he had been hard before, they would need to come up with a new name for what he was experiencing after hearing his hard work being acknowledged.

He gulped, trying to keep his some cool in his voice. "You can guess twice," he challenged and pushed his body towards her, squeezing his dick between their bodies. She giggled and turned on her back to face him. Tried to kiss him slowly, but he was having none of that. Once the door was opened, he took the lead and kissed her with all of his pent up hunger. His hands were holding her jaw in place, as if she was going to slip away - which was the exact opposite of her plans. Soon enough she kissed back with similar urgency, roaming her hands on his chest and pulling his ever-so-curly hair.

"I need you," she whispered when he reached away to take in some air.

He grinned, happy to have some sort of level of upper hand, given how down bad he actually was.

"Have you been a good girl, sweetheart?" he asked, expecting the same answer he gave her. His cheeky fingers started exploring her upper thighs.

She waited a moment. "No, I haven't," bit her lip. This took Lando as a surprise and he opened his mouth in disbelief.

"Well, would you look at that..." he said, secretly loving this side of her. Horny little angel, getting herself off. In his mind, it was like she'd been training for him. He gripped her thigh, making her gasp.

"I think you might still find some evidence on the sheets," she whispered, and it was exactly that sound that was a turning point of Lando. He flipped over to tower her and slammed his lips towards hers. He opened her legs with his hands and started exploring her core - and it was exactly as she said it. Still wet from her on fingers, as he'd imagined.

"Well then, we'll do this on my terms. You understand?" he said in a playful tone. "What are you?"

She knew what answer he was looking for. "Bad girl," she sighed as he fingered her in a way that could not be described as gentle. Soft moans started escaping her mouth and that was the main thing Lando was longing for.

"And what am I? For keeping myself full for you?" he asked, trying to keep her on the edge with his moves.

Her eyes were now shut and her arms locked around his back, same as her legs. "Good boy," she sighed.

"Exactly. So do me a favour," he said, kissing her again, "be loud for me tonight. Make my ears ring and wake up the neighbours. Otherwise I'll make sure you don't get what a good girl gets." Both of them knew there was not a single cell in Lando willing to keep his empty promise. She was going to finish multiple times and he'd work for it the whole night if he had to.

Back arched. Lando's fingers doing the God's work. "Yes," she almost choked on her breath and let out an honest and beautiful sound.

It was already getting too much for Lando, he stroked himself few times and then slid into her wet cunt, as if it was his home.

And boy, was it better than any home he'd ever know. He warm wet, almost dripping cunt welcomed him in the sweetest of ways. Lando waited few seconds for both of them to adjust before he gripped her legs and swung them over his shoulders. It was a dance they'd practiced countless times before. She knew to clench her legs and provide support for him to be able to fully start launching into her.

He gave her one more lustfilled look before he thrusted for the first time. The thing he was specifically looking forward was the way how the breath escaped her throat in almost surprised way - as if she was not expecting this to happen. Pure pleasure overruled any thoughts he was having pretty quickly. The way her walls clenched over him was a sensation very few things could compare to. It was so easy to start moving faster and harder. He lived for the sight of her, lying down beneath him, eyes closed and finally, after few more perfectly placed movements, first moans started to escape her lips. He wanted more, tonight he needed it all. Speeding up, gripping her legs tighter. And with that, he watched as her boobs were bouncing back and forth, a sight so glorious he had to put one of his hands on it. All that she was somehow trying to hide in, started to come out. Face stuck in a scream like position, hands gripping Lando's arms and the most glorious of it all - the silent moans growing into muted screams. And once he added even more speed, those turned into unhinged screaks. He didn't even notice him own mouth stuck open. Breaths were getting heavier and heavier, drops of sweet sweat were falling on her torso and slowly Lando moved his hand over to from her boobs to the crease of her neck and squeezed just a little bit, the way he knew she liked. He didn't mind that the sound she made got a little muffled - he could feel the sound coming from her throat before it left her body.

And then finally, Lando felt almost a hot liquid hit his dick and gradually bounce over to his lower stomach as he moved even quicker than before, knowing well enough that when this happened to her, the incoming orgasm was about to be glorious. He thrusted, fully focused on her expressions and loud screams.

When her release happened seconds later, he nearly came himself. By some miracle, he managed to hold it of for just few more minutes. He kept thrusting, while he felt her body collapse momentarily, complete hard shut down. More liquid came out of her and Lando wished he could fuck and lick her at the same time.

And just like that, she was back again, panting hard and finally, eyes open once again. Her fucked out face challenging him once again. She smirked and tried as much as he could to keep up his tempo. It always took her one orgasm to bounce back and become more active. Lando wished he could go on for hours, but his dick almost begged him to allow the release. He wasn't gonna deny himself pleasure tonight.

"Say my name," she said in a loud demanding tone, stern look on her face. He wanted to chuckle, always finding it amusing how she went from almost a comatose princess to a challenging boss girl in seconds. After he made her come, of course. But Lando's mind was truly getting blurry at that point. He kept saying her name as like some sort of prayer as he carried himself to the heavenly release. It was the ultimate relief, dipping in a hot water, getting charged with electricity, tasting the sweetest drink, stepping into the hottest sunshine. Whatever kind of pleasure Lando could think of, nothing would ever mount to finally releasing it into her, especially after a long, oh so long, build up.

And with that, he fell next to her. Heave panting on both sides of the bed, before either of them spoke.

"All good? Are you ok?" he asked, just like he always did after they'd slept together. The thought of her not having a good time haunted him. He was aware that it sometimes came out more anxiously than he intended to, but who has a proper working brain after a sex session.

Y/N turned at him, blissful smile on her lips. "Oh yeah, baby. Love when you come home like this."

He smirked, getting some of the blood back to his brain. "Hmm, I also love coming home."

Their fucked out minds chuckled at the stupid joke. He gathered all the remaining strenght, got up and cleaned her up.

"Oh God, I've missed you," she complained into the no quiet room, still filled with sex air.

"You have no idea, how much I did, sweetheart."

//

It had been a good few weeks before Lando found himself once again in Martin's studio. This time Y/N was able to join him on the iconic couch. They sat, her legs relaxed over his, Lando's hand stroking her shins innocently. Physical touch boy if there ever was one.

Light banter laced the evening, few sips from Martin's signature vodka sodas and general lightness of the company were bound to end up with Martin sharing his latest relationship news. The alternative girl he met in Germany? Yeah, that was over. However, the track was definitely not.

"Ok, but like, I'd never seen you this anxious about a new track before," Y/N spoke, feeling like there was something these two guys were walking around, somewhat afraid to say hat it was.

Martin and Lando shared a look. There was not a single bone in Lando's body that was afraid of Y/N reaction to this track. He way in fact dying to know what Martin has done with it in the past few weeks. Martin was not allowed by his label to send any demos, only to show them in person. Well, he was not even allowed that, but it's not like they were there with them in the room. Martin raised his brows while looking at Lando, as if to look for a permission. Lando nodded, secretly looking forward to seeing what Y/N had to say about their newest idea.

"Well, I'm actually still working on a track we tried to finish when your boyfriend was here the last time," he said reluctantly.

"Yeah mate, I'm stoked to hear what you recorded," Lando said, trying to add some entusiasm to Martin's speech.

Martin's face formed a small frown. "Well, I'm worried, mate. Listen for yourself, it might be just me hearing this track for too many times. But, I'm afraid it does not work."

This took Lando by surprise - he was full on expecting a hot, sexy banger.

Martin did not add anything and upon Y/N's plea for finally play it and with zero protests on Lando's side, he did just that.

So they listened to the almost six minute track. The instrumentals were basically in the exact same state as when Lando was there for the last time. Intrigue filled his body as the tempo slow down came - it must have been time for the moaning to start. He could not wait to see Y/N's reaction. Was there a chance she would actually be mad and consider it tacky?

He didn't let her out of his sight, no matter how much Martin tried to catch his eye. Y/N sat there, her usual focused face on, as per any other time they'd listen to a new track.

And just like that, it took Lando only few bars of the part with the moans to understand where Martin's disinterest came from. This wasn't the right vibe. There was absolutely no comparison to the original track they'd based this on. It was a weak mockery of that whole idea. Sounded cheap, almost fake and with no atmosphere whatsoever. A face of slight disgust formed on Lando's face and he temporarily forgot he was watching Y/N for her reaction. They finally exchanged a look with Martin, both knowing this was just not working. While the girl moaning into the track had a perfect pitch, something was just not right.

Only when the moans and sighs part of the track ended he noticed the look on his girlfriends face and started actually feeling embarrassed. Will she think this as his idea and that he is a pervy simpleton? That he actually likes this?

He started his defense before she'd have any time for a reaction.

"That's not good, mate," he stated the more than obvious. Martin nodded, his expression hard to decipher. "It was not meant to sound this cheap."

"Yeah, don't know what to tell you. We recorded this with like two other producers in the room, this girl is apparently a good porn actress with a perfect pitch. But it sounds just like that. Like, I wanted to create a hot track, this is just cheap and kind of sad."

Lando gulped, almost fearing Y/N's reaction.

And boy, was she staring at him. It almost caught him of guard. Definitely silenced him. If he had to describe it, it would something along the lines of shooting arrows. Lando felt very small. But then, like by some sort of miracle, the corner of her lip turned up and a cheeky smile started to form. Martin knew more than interfere in their silent conversations and turned around to leave them be. A shot of confidence went though Lando's bloodstream and he gave Y/N a questioning look. Almost wanting to challenge her to say something. She shot her eyebrows up and tried to bite her smile away. Lando played dumb and shook his head, as if he did not understand. With that, she nodded toward his phone that was lying next to his hips. Lando's eyes went wide and his heart rate went up. Is she really suggesting this?

Out of nowhere, her look still firm on Lando - who stopped blinking a long time ago - she spoke, probably more to Martin than her boyfriend.

"I love the idea, and I think it could catch on really well. But like you said. You can't fake that if it's suppose to be good. Any girl will se right through this anyway."

Was Lando about to fall in love all over again?

"So what, am I suppose to pay someone to fuck in the studio?"

The silence that followed was a heavy, awkward, hot and hilarious one. Many looks were exchanged between the three of them before, as they say, all the pennies dropped.

"Oh my God," Martin exclaimed. Neither Lando or Y/N reacted in any verbal way, however Lando did raise his eyebrows in order to stop his smile from growing. Failing at that miserably. Suddenly, he was more than aware of Y/N legs near his crotch.

Martin shook his head, as if he became prudent out of nowhere and spun on his chair few times, most likely thinking it over. Lando was about to step in to ease the tension, but Y/N was faster.

"It would be the easiest way to test if the track works, just saying," she commented and Lando tried to stay as still as possible, almost worried that if he moves to much, he might wake up.

To potentially have his girlfriends orgasm voice blasted anonymously in clubs all around the world was doing some thing to his semi-exhibicionist persona, which he had to keep buried deep down. Things he had a lot of trouble admitting to outloud.

The conversation was continuing, no matter how spaced out and horny Lando became.

"Ok, say it works. Are you ok with this staying on the track?" Martin asked Y/N only. He knew his mate well enough to figure he'd be more than fine with it.

Y/N seemed to think about it, in a serious way, for few moments. The air felt oh-so-heavy to Lando. Please, say yes. Both of you.

"As long as it stays anonymous and nobody else, not even your label ever finds out, I say we go and give it a try," she answered and turned over to her boyfriend. He knew the look she had on her face more than well. It was the same one she'd have after agreeing to press record on their personal sex voice memos. And it was doing things to him.

It looked like Martin was coming around with the idea.

"Fuck it, ok then. I guess, I'll just press the button and give you guys some space in the recording room. But like, bare in mind I only need her, not you," he hinted over to Lando, "and for the sake of our friendship, I'd really appreciate if you kept it clean in terms of dirty talk. I don't want this to be the reason I died. Also no...mess please. Ugh."

Lando downed his drink, still unable to believe this was happening, and finally spoke again. "I'm sure there is a way to make sure we get only Y/N's voice."

Images flooded their heads - for Y/N very much wanted, to perfectly contrast Martin's reaction, who was sitting on the complete opposite of the excitement spectrum.

"Ok, let's go with it before I change my mind," Martin said and began prepping the recording room.

Lando squeezed his girlfriends hand, to make sure she was really ok with it.

"I love you," he whispered, unable to hold it in.

"Me too. I'm happy you don't think of me as slutty or perverted," she replied, hint of shame for the first in a long time creeping on her face.

"I would never....We can stop whenever, if you stop feeling it, ok? Please promise you'll let me know."

There was a look on her face he couldn't put a name on. "Thank you."

Martin coughed demonstrateively. "Lando, come over. I'll tell you what to do." Lando eyebrows shot up once again. "Not like that, with the recording, you weirdo," Martin exhaled, already regretting the decision.

//

"So, the recording is on, have a good one, I guess," were Martin's last words before Y/N was about to have a series of little deaths.

And with the click of the door, they were alone. Deep dark silence. Never before has she seen Lando stare at her this much like a hunter would at his prey. His good name was on the line. Maybe not for the whole world, but he had to show his best bud he can make his girl come. And perhaps something more than that.

The room was small, light dimmed out.

"So, what do you have in mind?" she asked softy, still not quite in the same feral mood Lando was in. He crossed over the distance between them slowly to put a finger on her mouth.

"No words, remember?" he reminded himself probably more than her. His plan was never to fuck her here. She'd soon find that out.

With ease and confidence only those who kissed each other countless of times, he locked his lips with hers. His hand in the back of her hair, pulling, not gently. Her tongue rolled over his and she bit his upper lip, to return the favor perhaps. Her head bent back and he follow the train to her collarbone with pecks. With ease, he started walking her over to the chair here the recording artist would usually sit. Today, she'd be the main act and he her muse. She was regretting not wearing a skirt that day. He saw no issue when he pulled her jeans down. He was already hard and just had to squeeze himself for few times, a mindless action. No doubt in his mind that before the night calls quits that day, he'd see his own release. She noticed his moves and tried to get in on the action, only to somewhat wake him up from his own selfishness as he stopped her hands reaching his crotch. Another head shake - hopefully, this time she'd get the hint.

Her eyes were filled with hot wanderlust and with that, she gave up on trying to take the lead. He smiled and got rid of her panties as well.

Two strong hands popped her up on the round chair with no back rest. One last kiss on the lips before he knelt down. Stomach tingled with anticipation. Lando was taking his time, slowly kissing his way up her legs. The ever so blue, green and whatever colored eyes glowing with lust. He stopped at the spot where thighs and knees bend, his tongue finally out, as if for a practice run. Only recently he found out about her secret soft spot. He watched her face relax and give in, first pleasure arriving. He was the moon and her body a shore, waiting for the waves.

Long heavy breath. Lando wanted, needed more. He progressed further and further, until the only place left to go were her folds and wet core. But before that, he didn't for get to leave few bite marks on her upper thighs. Quick catch of breath and her hands buried in his curls. Watching him as if the gods had sent him to ruin her.

And they might have. Normally, he's utter few cheeky lines before dipping his tongue deep into her, but the looks were all he could use this time.

Relaxed and come for me, baby. Drip all over this chair and make them know I can make you scream.

His tongue could as well be completely dry and it would not matter. They way how he was all over her got her wet anyway. His moves were never the same, yet they always worked like magic. He twisted, pulled in and out and all over. Slight bite at her less sensitive folds. Clit suck. And then he called upon his fingers to assist. She was barely sitting on the chair, legs fully rested on his shoulders, priorities loud and clear. As were her moans she didn't notice at first. She had to support herself with her arm, squeezing the weak leather top of the chair. Her other hand was busy with pushing Lando's face towards her. First tide started to arrive. Lando drew his head back to catch some breath - and she let him, because his fingers became the main act. He made sure to hold the tempo, knowing that would work like volume increase button. Was there a more beautiful sight than watching a woman you love hit the highs of life? Lando very much doubted. Judging by the way her face clenched, she must have forgotten the why and where. Her throat served like a gateway to pleasure sounds. And she screamed, more and even more once he sucked her clit again.

They call it little deaths because it might just be the only accurate description of what washed over her. If wasn't often he'd go down on and not fuck her shortly afterwards. Since that was out of the picture, she focused fully on his moves, knowing this was the peak.

He felt her relax after a particularly loud scream. Coming down to Earth once again. She opened her eyes and he smirked. He knew, by the way she tried to steady his breath and the slight movement of her supporting hand that she considered it "job done". She nodded and head and he shook his once again. Her puzzling look quickly replaced by a lip bite as his mouth traveled back to her core.

One more round, one could say Lando's ego was becoming the main hero of this story. The thought of somebody having to go and listen to another round of him destroying his girl with pleasure was an intoxicating one.

//

Martin's track was an instant hit and minor shock to the public. Never before has he released something so explicit. Y/N's screams were out for the whole world to listen and it did a wonder to their sex life. It was something else to fuck and blast your own love soundtrack on.

There were two main versions release, one less explicit, for the DJ's to play around the radio during the day and for club goers to party to during the night.

Lando stopped counting how many times it happened that in the middle of the day he'd hear this song around the paddock radio. Whenever he did, he would send Y/N a photo with a cheeky wink, and she'd do the same when she had the luck of listening to her own voice in public like that. A nice, somewhat innocent tradition for them only to understand.

//

Keep you friends close and rivals closer. That's how Lando ended up at one of the many celebrations of Max Verstappen's title celebrations. Little did he mind, secretly loving the fact the pressure was off him for a moment. Expensive alcohol flowing freely also helped.

He found himself sitting in a VIP booth across from Max, by some stroke of luck, alone. And of course, that was the first time he slipped up. Somehow he managed to avoid a situation when someone who knew him well was around when Martin's monaco kiss came up.

"the recording is on, have a good one, I guess"

Martin decided to keep his own line in the intro, only later admitting he'd re-recorded it out of his own insecurity. Which Lando found very amusing, given the fact him and Y/N only needed one take to get it right perfectly.

His stomach dropped a bit when he heard the now iconic opening line. Shifted a bit to regain some composure. Sipping a drink might help to hide his slight panic and lack of any real light did not allow his blushed cheeks to go noticed.

Across from him, Max was nodding his feet to the beat of the track. The conversation grew stale a moment while, so Max's complimentary comment on Lando's friend's track must have been intended as an innocent ice-breaker.

"what do you have in mind"

Another line kept in from the recording. Y/N's real voice hidden under many layers of autotune to keep her identity anonymous. As per her wish and Lando's secret regret.

The tempo started to slow down. Anyone would remember the track by heart if they'd listened to it the same amount of times as Lando had. Words were lost on him and he did not find a response to Max's comment. Very unusual from Lando. He sipped his now empty drink, hoping more liquid had magically appeared. Max noticed something was off. And then the key jump, straight out the book Diet Pepsi took inspiration from. Followed by the peak moan, or maybe a scream, from his girl for everyone to hear. It was not supposed to be this arousing. Max tilted his head and after another few beats, his intense stare aimed at his rival/friends went wide.

Lando tried to stop his smirk. He really did.

Max's mouth went open and he stopped his breath before uttering a simply lovely, slightly astonished: "No way."

Lando averted his gaze to the crowd below in order to avoid Max, who chuckled and took a big gulp of his not-empty glass.

If the lights went on, everybody would be able to see a bright red Lando. He was never going to break his promise about keeping this a secret, so he did not comment. But he grinned at Max's nod of approval.

He excused himself as went to the bar. Searching for his girl.

Light brush on her waist made her turn, wonder in her eyes easing when she saw it was him. They were both in the same horny headspace.

He leaned in and whispered, as much as one can whisper in a club, the last few beats of their track playing. "You sound so hot, baby. I'm so down bad for you."

Tipsy, she shot him a wide smile and mouthed a silent "i love you".

[d3stinyist1red]

ʏᴀɴ ʟᴏsᴇʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

yan loser who is genuinely the most disgusting, rattiest, emoest mf you've ever seen.

You guys met during English, having a project assigned to the both of you to work together. The whole assignment you just ignored him, not bothering to deal with his creepiness.

He was known around the school as the schools creep, always looking at girls, getting into fights and always losing, just a really pathetic dude to keep it short.

yan loser who during English class, got paired up with you once more as you quietly groaned and your friends wished you luck

"h-hi." He said shyly, fiddling with his long black sleeved shirt that he's been wearing for probably two weeks now

You raised your eyebrow, "Uh yeah hi." You said monotonously, not wanting to even look at the weird guy next to you.

yan loser who actually managed to strike up a conversation with you after so many failed attempts, feeling a recognizable friend rise to life from hearing you talk to him for so long.

"yeah I personally think that Sasuke is the baddest character out of everyone in naruto-"

"s-sorry y/n, imma go to the bathroom o-okay?" He mumbled under his breath before getting up abruptly asking for permission to go use the bathroom and leaving.

You didn't pay it much attention due to you barely caring about him, he was just someone you could use to pass the time with in this boring English class

yan loser whose never cummed so damn much in his life in that damn bathroom stall, cumming buckets as he pants, his tongue lolling out as he giggles at the memory of you, feeling another boner coming

yan loser who comes back a few minutes later, shirt completely ruined and pants low on his hips, as your classmates hurled at the sight of him

yan loser who out of your own will, begins hanging out with you more, trying to show you his collection of Pokemon cards

yan loser who uses reddit 24/7, acting as if it's their therapist, ranting and writing full on essays about you, as he slowly slicks his hand up and down, whimpering at the sensation, thinking about the many positions he could put you in

yan loser who touched your thigh on accident once, and hasn't been the same ever since, now all he's looking at is those soft warm thighs of yours, wondering how it would feel wrapped around his head

yan loser who all he wants to do is ram his hips against yours, to fully ravage and cream inside your womb, he wants to pull out and see the sticky substance slowly drip out as well, fuck he could already feel himself getting hot at the thought..

yan loser who unironically uses brainrot alot, using it to try to make you laugh, always feeling his ego growing each time you let out a giggle

yan loser whose always playing video games, more preferably hentai games where he could customize his love interest, designing it so it could look exactly like you.

yan loser who secretly owns a private insta that is basically a fanpage of yours, that account only follows his main account and your account.

yan loser who is a complete loser who hasn't felt a woman's touch on him for years and is now waiting to breed you (or u could breed him, he doesn't mind :3 )

yan loser who is ur loser that is just a nice guy! So why don't you like him! :(

[flyingmustachio]

I do really fussy, intricate art because I'm addicted to the flow state, like when you're painting or cutting out something small and precise, and you go into that super zen, hyperfocus space because your breathing is super controlled and slow so it doesn't mess up your hands.

It's one of the only things that gives me any dopamine, and it's the only time it feels good to be in my body (because I can't feel my body at all).

"Instead of having your kids play with stim toys all day, teach them a skill that uses their hands!"

My darling... what do you think hobbies are?

[mirmidones]

kinda sad that i don't want children bc i just realized for sure what i would name them

[sturnsdarling]

‘never have I ever, shared a girl with my brother’

Matt and Chris’ best friend takes an innocent game of ‘never have I ever’ as her opportunity to ask the boys something she’s always wondered

vibe check: THREESOME (obviously no contact between matt and chris the fact that this even needs to be said is insane). dirty talk, softdom!mattandchris, matt the much, double penetration (no lube mentioned but PLEASE USE LUBE i'm so fr), throat fucking (chris receiving), fingering, squirting, titty play, hickies, cream pie, multiple orgasms (i lost count), they both nut inside her (kill me now), cute mini aftercare literally anything you can think of is in this fic dude i could go on forever

5.3k words of pure smut

A/N: the build up/foreplay to the actual smut is basically the scene from challengers because that scene actually changed my life. anyways if you see my search history say anything about how to manifest thought into reality through detailed story writing mind your business.

love and cigs, merc

There was a city wide power outage in LA, you were hanging out at the boys' house with Matt and Chris when suddenly, the TV turned off and the entire house was pitch black. At first you all freaked out, Chris spouting shit about how this is the night you all die and reeling off the game plan for when an intruder comes in, you and Matt were slightly more collected, Matt immediately checking his phone and confirming the power outage whilst you joked along with Chris about how you were going to fight this supposed intruder.

It had been about an hour, Matt had gone to Nicks room to get all his candles and put them on the living room floor, giving you guys some illumination in the dark. Chris was playing music from his phone, feeling grateful for spotify's offline option. You guys had exhausted every talking point, and even Chris was running out of things to say.

At some point between boredom and death, you suggested a game of never have I ever, and the boys reluctantly agreed. You weren't really playing properly because they didn't drink but, at least it was something.

"never have I ever, lost my virginity on a bench in Boston" Matt said, raising an eyebrow at Chris who rolled his eyes, punching his brothers shoulder.

"oh my god, I fuckin' forgot that thats how you lost it!" you laughed uncontrollably, keeling over into the rug on the floor.

"I dunno why you're laughing so much, kid, you've definitely done worse" Chris tutted at you.

"oh yeah? like what?" you said, playful confrontation in your voice.

"d'you remember when I had to come get you from that dudes house because you threw up on his dick?" Matt interrupted yours' and Chris' conversation.

Your eyes went wide and you nearly spat out the soda in your mouth, trying to stifle your laughter.

"I remember that! you had to climb out the bathroom window because you were too embarrassed to go back out" Chris was keeled over in laughter.

"we've all been there" You shrugged, owning your embarrassing mistake.

"no, kid, we haven't" Matt chuckled, looking to Chris who's face was scrunched up in a confused laugh.

"oh, come on? you're seriously telling me you've never had an embarrassing sexual encounter" you pressed.

"none involving vomit" Chris spoke through his laughter

"and none where I had to flee the scene by jumping out a window" Matt added to Chris' taunting.

"whatever, you guys are just boring, you're lucky you have me to keep you entertained with my embarrassing ass life" You rolled your eyes, pretending to be offended.

"to be fair, once I did accidentally punch a girl in the face whilst i was trying to fuck her" Chris said, trying to stifle his laughter.

"how the fuck did you manage that" You burst into hysterics.

"it was every dark and fumbly and I was still basically a virgin, okay? I apologised like fifty times and she still made me leave" Chris said, a boyish sulk taking over his body.

"dude that's not as bad as the time I was this close to a threesome with these girls, and I got so anxious that I told them my dog had just died and ran out half naked" Matt said, pinching his fingers together and huffing

"not my boy trev, thats so deep bro" Chris shook his head, acting disappointed in his brother.

Matt bringing up his near threesome experience made your ears perk up, and a question you had always wanted to ask came flooding back into your brain. You had been friends with the boys for a while and, had shared stories of all of your sexual escapades, some funny, some incredible and some awful, you were all totally open with each other.

But, your whole friendship, you'd always been curious as to whether they'd ever been offered a threesome, or taken someone up on one. You knew that girls would approach them both, but if one had more interest than the other, the other would back off and let his brother do his thing.

You uncrossed your legs, laying them out flat and placing one over the other as you leaned back on your palms, arching your back slightly as you looked between the boys.

"I have another never have I ever" You said, breaking their conversation.

They both looked to you at the same time, their breath hitching in their throat slightly at the sight of your chest being illuminated by the flicker of candle light.

"never have I ever...shared a girl with my brother" you said with complete nonchalance, looking back and forth between the boys.

Chris and Matt side eyed each other and looked back to you, mouths slightly agape at your forward question.

"like, fucked the same girl on different nights?" Chris asked, being the slightly braver of the two.

you shook your head, "like, fucked the same girl, at the same time" your voice was getting more and more seductive without even meaning to.

They looked at each other again, and then back to you, both slightly stunned, and slightly turned on by you even asking them that.

"we've been offered" Matt shrugged, "but we said no"

"why?" you said, sitting up straight now.

"cause I don't really wanna see my brothers face when I'm tryna cum" Chris laughed, looking to matt who made and agreeing face.

"interesting" you raised your brow quickly with a downwards smile

"why's that interesting?" Matt said, an air of seductive curiosity in his tone.

you shrugged, "I dunno, I jus' think you'd probably enjoy it", you pulled your legs into a criss cross under you, "you don't think the idea of fucking a girl who's so horny for you that she needs another version of you, is hot?" you tilted your head at them.

The boys were slightly stunned, they'd never thought about it like that before. Chris shifted where he sat, trying to ignore the blood rushing to his crotch as Matts eyes were trained on you, his tongue pressed to his cheek as you smiled at him smugly.

"well, when you put it like that, I guess it doesn't sound too bad" Chris said, letting his eyes wander over your frame.

"I've got one" Matt said abruptly, you and Chris looked to him, "never have I ever, offered my triplet best friends a threesome" Matt smirked at you.

You rolled your eyes and Chris attention shot straight to you, "I did not offer you a threesome-"

"yes, you did" Matt cut you off

"I simply asked if you'd ever had one" you shrugged, pretending to have no idea what he was talking about.

"yeah, and then proceeded to tell us exactly why we'd like it" Chris raised a brow at you, not realising he was edging closer to you on the floor.

"was I right?" you said, cocking a brow at Chris.

"yeah, you were" Matt answered for him.

Suddenly, the boys had come significantly closer to you, sitting in front of you like two siamese cats waiting for permission to do something. Your attention flitted between them periodically, the tension in the air thick with anticipation.

"so what then? would you say yes, knowing what you know now?" you said, trying to maintain your confidence

Matt smirked menacingly as Chris' brows dropped, pressing his tongue into the side of his teeth and looking to Matt. Matt side eyed him and they both returned their attentions to you.

"depends on who was askin" Chris said, eyes trained on yours.

"are you askin', pretty girl?" Matt muttered, his long fingers coming up to play with a strand of your hair.

The pet name made your stomach flutter, you don't think you'd ever been this turned on in your whole life, the sight of the boys' growing bulges from under their joggers making your mouth water as they both gawked at you, waiting for permission to fuck you exactly how they knew you wanted them to.

You didn't reply, only smiled as you leant forward, pressing your lips against Matts softly. He leaned into the kiss instantly, his hand coming to your face to pull you into him. The kiss was slow and somewhat soft, Matt asking for polite permission to press his tongue against yours with a gentle swipe over your bottom lip. You granted him access, and he pulled you in deeper to him with his hand on your jaw. He led the kiss with a gentle dominance that was slightly surprising from him. Chris watched with a slightly open mouth, watching as your tongue lapped and pressed over Matts, growing increasingly desperate to know what you felt like.

You broke the kiss with Matt, and immediately turned your attentions to Chris, kissing him with the same tenderness that you did Matt. Chris was a lot more feverish than his brother, his tongue entering your mouth instantly as his hand came to cup the under side of your chin. He bit at your bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth before soothing the sting with a warm kiss.

You were reeling in the feeling of kissing them both, the differences between them being so apparent, and only serving to make you want to know how else they were different.

You broke the kiss with Chris and sat back with a content sigh, looking between the two of them as they gawked at you with puffy lips and hooded eyes. You smiled, pushing your hair back off your shoulders and letting it hang down your back, exposing your neck to them. The boys looked to each other and, in an instant, they were by your sides, mouths latched around your neck, pressing their tongues against the soft skin, trailing kisses down either side of your neck.

your whole body felt like it was on fire, the sensation of the two of them nipping at sucking at you neck making you whimper slightly. Matt trailed his kisses down your chest, pressing his warm tongue along the curve of your cleavage as it begged to be freed from your tight tank top.

Chris went in the opposite direction, moving his mouth up your jaw and capturing your lips in a sloppy kiss as Matt slowly tugged at the hem of your top.

You pulled at the strap of your vest, letting it fall down your shoulder and giving Matt silent permission to free your tits from their confines. He complied, ripping your tank down with brute force, making your tits bounce free. He instantly latched his mouth around your nipple, biting down on the flesh and soothing the sting with a wet press of his tongue.

You moaned into Chris mouth, and his hand instinctively found the nape of your neck, collecting a handful of your hair and tugging on it, pulling your head back as he rose to his knees, not breaking the kiss.

"you like having us both kiss you like this, huh princess?" Chris said, smirking down at you with his lips brushing over yours.

"mhm" you nodded, your reply coming out in a whimper as Matt continued to work your nipple.

"she said it herself, Chris, she's so horny for us that just one isn't enough" Matt chuckled, palming your tit in his large hand, using his other to tease the hem of your joggers.

You flinched at the touch, a small shiver running down your spine at the sensation of Matts soft fingers teasing your skin.

"so responsive" Matt uttered, his attention focused on how your skin came up in goosebumps under his touch.

"come here, baby" Chris said as he shifted over to rest his back against the sofa, pulling you slightly by your hair.

You obeyed his orders, coming to rest in between his open legs, your back pressed to his. Matt turned to face you both, watching as Chris pried your legs open, raking his hands down the inside of your thighs at an agonising place, moving closer and closer to your throbbing pussy, but stopping before he reached you there.

You whined as Chris moved his hands round to the outside of your thighs, and Matt chuckled at your neediness.

"oh, come on, Chris, look how needy she is for it, just give her a little taste" Matt looked you up and down, his eyes hooded

"you want it, princess?" Chris muttered, his lips pressed to your ear as he hooked his fingers around the top of your joggers.

you nodded, head pressed against Chris' shoulder with your lip tucked between your teeth.

"words, pretty girl, we need words" Matt pushed, leaning forward and squeezing your thigh, inching his hand down your leg.

"yes, please, I want it" you whimpered, picking up your heavy head to look between the boys.

"want what, baby?" Chris said, a smirk wide on his lips as he nipped at your earlobe

"I want you both, I need you both to fuck me, please" you said, desperation thick in your voice.

With that, Chris pushed down your joggers as Matt assisted in lifting your hips up. Matt pulled them down, eyes trained on your covered pussy as sticky juices leaked from between the lace. You were soaked, and he couldn't help but reach forward to touch you.

"look, Chris, she's dripping for us" Matt said, pushing a finger up your covered folds, collecting your wetness on his finger, showing the glistening substance to Chris, who's mouth was once again latched around your neck.

Matt continued to tease your hole, getting down to eye level with your pussy as Chris continued to hold your legs wide open for his brother, your back arching into his chest as Chris sucked purple marks all over your neck, one hand in your hair, the other pressing bruises into your knee. Matts hands pushed you open further for him as he pressed his tongue flat against your throbbing pussy, you released a guttural moan at the sensation, your head rolling back on Chris' shoulder, giving him better access to your neck.

Matt wasted no time, he had had a taste of you and now he was hungry. He pulled your panties to the side and latched his mouth around your pussy, pressing his tongue into your hole as his nose brushed against your clit.

Chris pulled his hand out from your hair and began to palm your tit, still relentlessly attacking your neck with wet, warm kisses and soft bites.

The feeling of Chris working your tits as Matt lapped and sucked at your pussy was euphoric, the moans leaving you borderline pornographic as the boys' groaned at the sound of you whimpering for them. Matt brought a slender finger to your entrance, moving up your pussy to suck on your clit as he slipped his finger into your sopping hole with ease. Almost immediately, you clenched around him, and he inserted a second finger, curling them upwards as he coaxed your orgasm from you.

"that feel good, princess?" Chris muttered in your ear, "you sound so fuckin' pretty when you moan, y'know that?"

All you could do was moan in response, any sense of coherence being ripped from you by the second as Matt lapped at your pussy like a man starved. He was moaning, actually moaning with every clench around his fingers, drinking you in like you were his last meal.

Chris twisted and pinched at your nipples, his grip on your knee never wavering as he held you open for Matt. You turned your head, biting down on Chris' jaw and pressing your tongue against the stubble there, he chuckled, and captured your mouth in a feverish kiss, groaning as you bit down on his plump bottom lip. His hand raked down your inner thigh, pressing and squeezing bruises into the flesh as he pressed his tongue against yours.

Matt sucked on your clit, burying his fingers knuckle deep inside of you and grazing your g-spot with his long fingers. You broke the kiss with Chris with a pornographic moan, your hands flying to Matts hair to push him desperately into your pussy.

"i think that means keep going, Matt" Chris chuckled.

Matt looked up at you, your mouth agape and brows furrowed as he thrust his fingers deep inside your pussy over and over again, his tongue running circles around your puffy clit. You couldn't help but grind against Matts face, and he moaned at the feeling, using his free hand to hold your hip, near enough forcing you to grind against his tongue harder.

Chris pulled at your hair, making you look at him again and locking his mouth around yours, tongue aggressively pressing and pushing against yours as he returned his hand back to palm your tits.

You were a whimpering mess, moaning and crying into Chris mouth as Matt brought you over the edge with his tongue. You covered Matts mouth with your cum, shaking and convulsing above him as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you. He unlatched his glistening mouth from yours and helped you ride out your orgasm, watching in awe as you bucked your shaking hips into his hand.

"look how pretty she is when she cums, Chris" Matt said, gaining Chris' attention

Chris broke the kiss and chuckled, watching as you shook against his chest, "the prettiest girl in the world" he muttered, raking his hand down your stomach and pressing the pads of his fingers against your pulsating clit.

You shifted against Chris, whimpering as you felt a wave of hot tingles rush over your body. Matt was curling his fingers inside you relentlessly, begging for more of you, and Chris was rubbing fast circles against your clit, using your own sticky juices as lube for his movements.

Your eyes where clenched shut, head heavy against Chris' shoulder as you bucked your hips into their hands, moaning relentlessly and unable to form a single thought. A second, fast approaching orgasm ripped through you, and you clenched hard around Matts fingers.

"please, please, please" you began to beg, unsure of what you were begging for as your orgasm hit you like a freight train.

You released a wave of juices over Matts hand, squirting up his arm as you lifted your hips, stuttering. Chris pushed you back down, chuckling as he watched you squirm.

When you finally began to come down from our high, the boys slowed their pace and Matt pulled his fingered from you, licking them clean and moaning at the taste of you on his tongue.

"you taste so good, pretty girl" Matt shook his head, pulling off his top with one swift movement.

Chris dipped his fingers in your pussy, inciting a small whimper from you, and pulled them out just as fast, wrapping his arm round you to taste you on his fingers.

"fuckin' delicious" Chris groaned, shifting you forward slightly so he could pull down his shorts, letting his leaking cock slap against his stomach.

You were completely spent already, mind reeling from the shattering orgasms you just experienced, but the sight of the boys undressing for you made you feel increasingly desperate. Chris situated you back against his chest, you were both planted on the sofa and he had lifted you up onto his lap, his cock pressed against your sensitive pussy. Chris pried your legs open once more just after Matt had removed your soaked panties, leaving you totally bare for them.

Chris began to tease your folds with his throbbing cock as Matt freed himself of the rest of his clothes.

"you think you can take us both, princess?" Chris muttered in your ear, his voice cracking with every pump of his cock.

"mhm" you nodded, eyes fluttering at the feeling of Chris teasing your folds with his tip, "I can take it"

"good girl" Matt smirked, coming closer to you and Chris as he pumped his hard length in his hand.

Matt and Chris locked eyes and Matt cocked his head, Chris lifted you up slightly and let his cock slip out the way of your entrance. Matt pressed his tip through your folds, a needy whimper falling from your lips as Chris began to rub slow circles around the entrance of your asshole, preparing you to take them both.

"you ready, beautiful?" Matt said, standing over you with his tip pressed into your folds.

"please, give it to me" you nodded desperately.

Matt smiled a prideful smirk and with your words, pushed his girthy cock inside you. You both moaned at the sensation, Matts hands finding the backs of your thighs as Chris held you open for him. Matt bottomed out inside you, brows knitted together at the tightness of your warm pussy around him.

The feeling of Matt stretching you out, coupled with the slow rubs of Chris' gentle fingers against your hole made you feel light headed, moaning uncontrollably as Chris pushed one, and then two fingers into your gaping hole, using your own wetness as lubrication to slip his long fingers in and out of you. The feeling was unusual, but definitely not bad, the warm touch of them both caressing you as Matt rutted into your seeping pussy at an agonising pace, of Chris fucking his fingers into your asshole, stretching you out perfectly, was genuinely blissful.

You had never felt anything like it, and just as you thought it couldn't get any better, Chris lifted you up slightly, causing Matts dick to slip out of you momentarily. He inched his fingers into your mouth, and teased your hole with his long cock.

"bite down on me, baby, it'll help with the sting" Chris cooed in your ear as he pressed his tip into your clenched hole.

As Chris pushed into you, Matt did the same, thrusting his cock back into your warm pussy. You did just as Chris said, biting down on his fingers as Matt and Chris stretched you out completely. You cried out a moan, the sting only adding to your euphoria as they both began to fuck your gaping holes.

You were completely full of them, being thrust into from every angle as Chris fucked up into your tight asshole, and Matt thrust down into your weeping pussy, Chris fingers in your mouth, and Matts hands pressing bruises into the backs of your thighs.

They were both moaning and muttering, praising nonsense, filling the air with low grunts that were nearly drowned out by the moans that left your throat.

"y'taking us so fuckin' well, pretty girl, so fuckin' well" Matt grunted, planting a hard slap on the back of your thigh, kneading the flesh with soothing touches just after.

"so fuckin' tight around me, baby, fuck, you feel so good" Chris groaned feverishly in your ear, biting down on your lobe as he picked up his pace, fucking into your hole with animalistic passion.

Their praises made your head spin, and you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your third orgasm of the night.

"m'gonna cum, please let me cum, i'm- i'm- i'm" you were rambling, unable to think straight as the boys continued to fuck your holes.

"cum, baby, cum for us" Matt grunted, pressing his thumb over your puffy clit and rubbing steady circles over it.

"show us how pretty you are when you cum, princess, show me again, I miss it" Chris muttered into your ear, pulling his fingers from your mouth and rubbing wet circles over your nipple.

Your orgasm ripped through you, leaving a white sticky ring all around Matts cock as it leaked from you and down onto Chris' balls. Neither of them stopped their pace, fucking you through your high as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your whole body shaking in white hot euphoria as they filled you up. You were borderline screaming at this point, moaning their names over and over again as your whole body tensed.

"so fuckin sexy" Matt grunted, rutting into you with gritted teeth.

Chris watched as your jaw hung slack, slowing his pace in your asshole and pressing a few long, slow and hard thrusts inside of you.

"I need t'know what that pretty mouth feels like" Chris said, pulling out of you. The sting of him removing himself from your gaping hole being soothed by the cool, wet juices of your sopping pussy.

Matt pulled out, earning a whimper from you at the complete emptiness you felt.

Before you could complain, you were thrown about the sofa, head hanging over the edge with your legs pressed against your chest and your mouth stuffed full.

Matt was pounding into you, holding your legs tight against your chest but just open enough so that he could see your tits bounce as he rutted into you.

Chris had his hands wrapped round your jaw, softly caressing your cheeks as he fucked your open throat.

"you're so good, baby, taking me down your pretty little throat like this as Matt abuses your perfect pussy" Chris cooed softly, watching as tears pricked at your eyes, gagging around his massive cock with every thrust.

You loved it, it was exactly what you wanted. The feeling of Matt rutting into you, stretching you out and hitting your g-spot as Chris pounded down into the back of your throat, looking at you like you were an angel as he made you gag around him, was perfect. You reached a hand down to your pussy, and began to rub fast circles over your clit. Matt near enough growled at the sight, fucking you harder than ever, the sting of his skin slapping against yours only serving to push you closer to the edge again.

"keep doin' that, princess, keep playin' with y'self for me, kay? don't you dare stop" Matt grunted, breathy moans escaping his mouth with every thrust into your clenching pussy.

"you gonna cum, beautiful? you like having your throat fucked so much you'll touch yourself over it?" Chris smirked down at you, his pace into your throat never wavering as he periodically threw his head back, thrusting deep into the back of your throat.

You attempted to nod around him, whimpering and moaning around his cock at the familiar tingly feeling creeping up your spine. Chris moaned your name as he bottomed out in your throat, hips stuttering slightly as he reluctantly pulled out and began to thrust in and out once more.

You were clenching hard around Matt, and he knew you were about to cum, uttering encouraging praises to you in hopes of seeing you cum again. "come on baby, gimme one more, y'so fuckin' perfect, such a good girl, jus' gimme one more"

Your pace on your clit began to falter and you came all over Matts dick, moaning around Chris' length as tears fell from your eyes. The feeling of you clenching so hard around him gave Matt the push he needed, and with a few hard and fast thrusts into your sensitive and spent pussy, he came inside you, fucking his cum into you as he rode out his high, pressing bruises into your thighs as his head hung low on his neck.

"fuck, oh my- fuck" Matt groaned, leaning down and biting down on the bone of your knee, trying to steady his bucking hips as they chased the feeling of your warm pussy leaking his own cum all over his cock.

Your whole body felt limp, you were completely fucked out, and yet, as Chris continued to fuck your throat, you found yourself almost sad at the emptiness you felt when Matt finally pulled out of your throbbing pussy.

"Chris, you gotta feel how fuckin' tight she is, dude" Matt sighed, shaking his head and resting back onto the soft couch to catch his breath.

Chris pulled out from the depths of your throat and gave you a warm smile from your hung position over the sofa. He walked round, grabbing your legs and spinning you round so your thighs were spread for him, ass nearly hanging off the edge of the sofa as Chris lined himself up with your spent hole.

"you think you can take just a lil' more, baby? you wanna let me cum inside you as well?" Chris caressed your thigh with one hand and pumped his cock with the other.

"yes, please, Chris, fill me up jus' like Matt did" you whimpered, spreading your thighs wider for him.

Chris smiled, "such a good girl" pressing gentle touches into your thighs as he pushed his cock deep into your aching hole.

Chris' eyes rolled to the back of his head at the feeling of your tight, warm pussy sucking him in like a vice, "Jesus, fuck" he moaned.

You whined at the stretch, not even close to recovered from the pounding Matt had given you. Tears pricked at your eyes once more and you moaned Chris' name, pressing a desperate hand into his chest.

Matt came up beside you, taking your jaw in his hand gently and pressing a tender kiss on your open mouth.

"you can take it, baby, be a good girl and take it" Matt said softly, caressing your hair as you nodded, eyes fluttery and lips parted.

Chris was fucking into you like he'd never felt a pussy like yours in his life. Every time he pulled out, he was sucked back in by your clenching walls, reeling in the way you felt stretched out around him. Your tits were bouncing with every thrust, and with your tongue pressed against Matts in a needy, sloppy, moan filled kiss, you didn't notice Chris' hips begin to stutter. His pace began to falter as he became a rambling mess, thrusting in and out of you, cursing and moaning your name as you moaned into Matts mouth at the feeling of him effortlessly fucking into your g-spot over and over again with his lengthy cock.

With a final hard few thrusts, Chris' mouth was latched around the curve of your neck, biting down on the muscle as he came inside you, filling you up for the second time that night. He fucked you through his high, pushing his cum deep inside your already cum soaked walls.

Matts hold on you was gentle and grounding, him only pulling away from kissing you when Chris mustered the strength to pull out of your perfect pussy.

Chris reached down to the floor and put on his shorts, throwing Matt his and slumping down on the sofa beside you. You were sandwiched between them, Matts head rested on your shoulder and Chris laying over your stomach, your legs hanging open over the edge of the sofa. They were both panting, tracing small circles on your skin as your whole body relaxed into the soft cushion of the sofa.

You were exhausted, completely spent and desperate for sleep as you felt the boys' cum leak out of your sore pussy.

Matt lifted his head up, hooking his finger under your jaw to make you look at him, "you okay, pretty girl?" he asked softly.

You nodded with fluttery eyes and a weak smile, your hand caressing Chris' soft curls as he laid in your lap.

Matt smiled at you, pressing a gentle kiss on your nose, "you wanna go have a nice warm bath and cuddle up in bed with me n'Chris?"

you nodded again, eyes fluttering closed as you hummed, unable to form a sentence.

The boys helped you up, Chris passed you his t-shirt and helped you put it on, telling you to go easy and let him do everything.

They walked you to the bathroom, Matt holding you against his chest as Chris ran the bath and helped you step in, both of them easing you down into the bubbly warm water.

You sighed at the relief of the warm water covering you, your eyes closing and head rolling back on its hinge for a moment.

Matt was sitting down by the side of the tub, his finger tips tracing soft circles on your shoulders as Chris sat on the counter top, sorting the perfect queue of songs to help you relax as much as possible.

taglist: @sturniozalt@mattslolita@shaquilles-0atmeal@blahbel668@sleepysturniolo@le4hsblog @sarosfilms @joemamaaa42069 @2muchofaslvt @seluky10 @cherib3lla @jetaimevous

[nanaslutt]

Ok so I was thinking about soul swap (??) With gojo. Gojo doing🫣 stuff to his body in which readers soul is from readers body. Or can have reader doing stuff with her body..hope u understand kinda high rn. 😵‍💫😵‍💫

Body swap with Gojo

contains: fem reader, masturbation (m&f), reader & Gojo’s perspectives, perv!gojo & reader, multiple orgasms, “first orgasm” (experienced as the opposite sex), dirty talk, teasing, mutual pining

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

"Gojo this is fucking serious!" You yelled, still getting caught off guard when Satoru's voice could be heard in your ears even though you were the one talking. "Okay okayy, I'll text Ijichi to come to get us, relax your little head." He responded in your voice. This whole thing was so fucked up. The two of you were fighting some curse together-- Gojo had no real reason to be there but he insisted on it for "safety reasons" (he was bored). You had gotten hit once by the curse right before you finished it off, and nothing strange had happened until Gojo came up to you and laid his hand on your shoulder to make sure you were alright, and that's when it happened—the soul swap.

Gojo pulled out his phone and held it out in front of himself, waiting for the face ID to scan him in. The man that currently resided in your body shook the device, frustrated. "Oh, this fuckin'..." He gave up, typing in his password as the device buzzed again and again, refusing to let him in. His antics made you giggle, turning your head to the side you sniffed to conceal any laughter he might pick up before you went back to watching him call for help.

"Ijichi? Heyyy, little problem~" Your higher-pitched voice reverberated through his speaker, no doubt confusing the poor overworked man on the other end. "Why do I have Gojo's phone? Funny you ask.." Gojo went on to pace around the area, throwing your hands up in the air as he explained the situation to Ijichi. You took the opportunity to look down at your temporary body, running your hands down the sides of Gojo's massive coat, which actually fit him. You felt the hardness underneath his clothes, pouting your bottom lip out in surprise, you figured Gojo would be fit, but you never knew for certain.

You had been a teacher at Jujutsu High for as long as he had, and the two of you had gotten quite close—which is why you didn't put up a fight when he insisted on coming on this mission with you, now you were starting to regret your decision. "Checkin' out my body while I was callin' for help? Perv~" Gojo teased, blocking your body off in a cross with his arms dramatically as he spoke. "Don't flatter yourself Satoru, you had something on your jacket." You lied through your teeth.

"It feels weird to hear my own voice chastise myself.." He pouts, placing a hand on his hip. "Yeah, well it doesn't feel great to see you flaunting around in my body either." You respond, holding a dejected look on Satoru's features that he probably has never made in his life. "Oh? you don't like me inside you?" He teased, covering his mouth as he giggled mischievously. "Please don't say gross things in my voice," you responded, rolling your eyes as you started to make your way out of the run-down building so Ijichi could see the two of you from the street.

"You're so serious~" He teased, using your shorter legs to run up to you and wrap himself around your arm, leaning your head against his arm as the two of you walked. "Also why did you not tell me you had to pee so bad." He said, making you choke on your own spit as you stopped in your pursuit of the road. "You are not under any circumstances going to piss while you're in my body." You emphasized, making a point to look into his eyes when you spoke.

"Why? Don't want me to see your cunt? heh." He laughed, once again using his filthy mouth to defile your voice. "What do you think Satoru?" You said, deadpanning at him. "Ahh~ you make my face look so scary~" He teased, curling your body up to his own arm once more as the two of you pushed forth towards society once more.

Once Ijichi's car, and the anxious man himself, came into view, you pushed the body that was clinging too tightly to your arm off of you. "Are you two alright?" He asked, coming up to your body. "Oh, Ijichi ~ you're such a caring man~ why don't you-" "That Gojo Ijichi, don't forget.' You reminded, looking blankly down at the dark-haired man, who had started to blush at your words. After an apology from the nervous man, and a quick slap to your body's shoulder that made Gojo whine through his laugh, the two of you got into the car.

The drive had started off with more shenanigans from Gojo in your body, trying to fluster Ijichi, which you quickly shut down by slapping Gojo's large hand over your own mouth. After that though, the drive started to quiet down, the three of you falling into a comfortable silence save for the radio playing some generic song in the background to fill the void. You noticed Gojo had started to bounce his leg in your body, peeking out the corner of your eye you saw your head was tipped back on the headrest, your eyes were squeezed shut, and your lip was pulled between your teeth; you looked like you were in pain.

"Gojo." You whispered, making him drop his chin and look at you, before he smiled through the uncomfortably, "I wasn't lying about needing to-" You quickly cut him off, waving his hands in front of you, "I know, I know." You said, before heaving out a sigh, "This fucking suuuuck." You drawled, letting your own head tip back agaisnt the headrest as you heard your own voice giggle at your unfortunate situation.

—

"Satoru hurry!" You yelled, tapping your foot anxiously on the ground as you stood in front of the bathroom door with your arms crossed, waiting for Gojo to finish his business. "Don't rush me! It's hard to pee with a blindfold on you know." He sighed, your voice coming through the door muffled. You had tied Gojo's own pitch-black blindfold over his eyes before you let him go into the bathroom, making sure he couldn't see a thing. You wanted him to leave to door open so you could make sure he really didn't peek, but then you put yourself in his shoes and realized you wouldn't want Gojo to watch while you were.. so you abandoned that thought.

Right before you were about to yell at the man for taking too long again, he opened the door, the blindfold off of your eyes and in your hands. Your face tunred beat red, your jaw dropped and your lungs filled with profanities and curses, ready to spill but- "I took it off to wash my hands captain stick-up-her-ass, relax~" He said, giving you a smug look before he pushed past you and started walking down the hallway. You bit your tongue as you watched your body move down the hall, "Where are you going?" You asked, placing your hands on his hips.

"Well~ I was hoping you could show me to your room because.." He held your hands out in front of him before he gestured to your body, which was covered in dirt, debris, curse blood, you name it. You could feel a headache start to come on, rubbing your fingers against his temple you sighed, realizing he was going to have to take a shower. You followed in his footsteps down the hall as you passed him, leading him to your room. "Thank you~" He cooed, a pep in his step as he followed behind you.

Once you reached your room you gripped your hand on the top of the door as he slipped under your arm and made his way into your room. You were caught off guard for a second, you knew Gojo was big, but you never really realized your size difference until now. Feeling yourself grow hot in the face you quickly snapped yourself out of it as you followed him into your room.

"Ahhhhh~" Gojo moaned in your voice, plopping him and his filthy body down on your pristine sheets. "You have two seconds to get off my bed before I use your own technique to kill you." You said with his deep voice, making him sigh as he reluctantly dropped his legs back down onto the floor and dragged his body off the sheets, standing as he crossed his arms at you. "Im tireddd, you seriously need to work on your stamina." He said, rubbing your thighs with your hands, "This body is exhausted, I feel like I'm going to collapse." He complained.

You ignored his comments as you dug through your drawer, trying to find something sufficient for him to change into. You settled on a pair of shorts and a baggy t-shirt, collecting them under your arm you threw them in his direction, the man skillfully catching them in his hands. "You don't have anything a little sexier?" He said, holding up the ragged band tee in front of him while he tucked the shorts under his arms. "Please." You begged, your eye twitching when you turned to look at him.

"You should probably.." You froze, your face heating up at the words you haven't even spoken yet. "Stop making me look so bashful, it's unbecoming." He said, a face of displeasing spreading itself on your futures. "God- Fuck, please just go take a shower and don't.. don't- don't be weird!" You sputtered, throwing your hands in the air in defeat before you opened the door and stepped aside so he could leave your bedroom and head for the shower rooms. "Yes ma'am~" He cooed, looking up at you through your lashes at you while he walked past you and started down the hallway.

Once he was out of view, you shut your door behind yourself as you slid down the wood dramatically, burring your face in Gojo's massive hands as you tried not to think too hard about what he might see, or what he was going to do with your body.

--

Gojo locked the door to the shower rooms behind him, screw anyone else that needed to wash up he needed to be alone right now. Your pleas and begs to not look at your body too long or be weird with yourself getting thrown out the window when your frame came into view in the full-length mirror that was in the bathroom before the shower stalls. He whistled at what he saw, turning himself around he looked over your shoulder and stared at your ass through the mirror.

Gojo was having the time of his life checking out his new temporary body. He was astonished at how pretty you still managed to look with messed up hair and ruined clothes. He stared intently at your body as he turned back around and started unzipping your jacket slowly, biting his lip when your body clad in a tight black t-shirt came into view. "Fuck, this is insane." Gojo laughed to himself, feeling a familiar yet unfamiliar warmth blossom in your stomach.

He let the jacket drop to the floor before he crossed his arms over your body and gripped the bottom of your shirt as he slowly dragged the fabric up and over your head, a shaky breath escaping your lips when he saw your bare flesh, the top half of your figure only being clad in a bra. "She'll never know." He giggled to himself before he turned around again, slipping your fingers under the hem of your pants he slowly and seductively slid them down your body, the heat in his stomach growing when your pantyclad pussy came into view as he kicked the pants to the side.

"Who knew all I had to do to get you naked was to do it myself." He said, watching himself in the mirror. Fuck, your voice was turning him on. He might be the one in control of your body right now, but the soul residing inside was still Gojo Satoru, the man who got hard watching you stretch your arms over your head before you spared. He turned around and reached his hand behind his back to unclasp your bra, biting his lip and smiling when he felt your tits fall freely in the air.

"Fuck." He wined in your voice, making your body grow wet as he slid the garment off your body and let it join the pile that had built up on the floor. He brought your hands up to your breasts as squished them together, kneading the soft mounds in his hands, pinching your nipples, jiggling them around, he touched and manipulated them in all the ways he could thing, all while he giggled at his own ministrations. "Now to see this cunt~"

--

Back in your room, you were still on the floor, your head had left the confines of your hands as it rested against the door with your eyes shut. You were going over in your head the way you looked from his point of view; how much smaller than him you were, the height difference, his deep voice, how warm his body was, how- what the fuck was that? You swore you felt something twitch in his pants. You dropped your gaze hesitantly to his lap and noticed a large tent was poking up right where his crotch was.

You had got to be joking. While fantasizing in his body, you had accidentally riled yourself up to the point you were sporting a boner? This was unreal. How did it go away? How long would it take? Oh god, why was his pervy body so sensitive? You did notice the familiar warmth in your lower regions, only in this body, instead of almost feeling your arousal throughout your whole body, you felt it more focused on his crotch.

You bit your lip, shutting your eyes as you tipped your head back against the door again. You couldn't stop your mind from wandering back to all the little things you noticed while being in his body, you wanted to stop you really did, you could not be like Gojo, you were not a perv, you were not a hypocrite.. but one look couldn't hurt anything right? Gojo would likely be in the bathroom for a while, he would never know if you just looked at it, right?

With a heavy sigh, you stood up and walked up to your full-length mirror, unzipping his jacket quickly and throwing it on your bed you lifted his shirt up on his body and stared at his insane physique. His abs seemed to glow under the light in your room, and the indents and muscles on his frame seemed to go on forever. How did he manage to stay so fit when he was constantly eating all those sweets? Men..

The bulge his body was sporting in his slacks made the whole view look so much more erotic, you bit your lip, your breath picking up the more you shamelessly gazed at his body in the mirror. You lifted his shirt more to get a view of his rock-hard pecs, a shaky breath leaving his lungs at his long and toned torso completely unobstructed by clothes to your eyes. You had already come this far.. looking a little more wouldn't hurt right? It's not like you were going to touch anything and besides! Gojo was absolutely doing the exact same thing right now.

Although the thought of Gojo checking out your body the way you were doing to him right now made your face heat up, you once again felt that same twitching under his pants. "Ugh, fucking quit that!" You chastised his dick, your face scrunching up in annoyance as you spoke to it.

You slipped his fingers under his waistband, you slid the fabric down lower- his v-line became more visible to you, lower- a white happy trail was exposed, lower- the base of his cock was unveiled as you could now see it throb under your gaze. You slid his pants down to about his mid-thighs, biting your lip as a shaky moan left his lips, making you feel dizzy at the erotic sound. His cock dripped a thick drop of pre onto the floor beneath you as you watched it hang freely in the room, twitching in the air.

He was so big it almost made you mad, realizing at that moment his cockiness and confidence not only came from his good looks and impressive talent but also from his massive cock. You dropped to his knees, perching yourself on them as you pulled up his shirt and bit the fabric between your teeth, letting yourself have a full view of his body. "Fuck." You moaned, the sound coming out muffled from the fabric tucked between your teeth as you let his warm hands come up to caress his body.

You felt every indent and ridge his body had to offer as you smoothed his massive hands over his body. Any guild you might've felt earlier being washed away at the unreal sight in front of you. The throbbing in his crotch was becoming unbearable the longer you worked yourself up. You tried to stop your hands from dropping any lower, you really did, but when you felt the way his hand wrapped around his cock, the relief, the pleasure, you had no regrets.

--

Gojo sat on the floor of the shower with a slack jaw as he watched your small fingers piston in and out of your tight cunt, moaning and whining at how warm and wet you felt around your fingers. "S-Satoru, Satoru-" He moaned in your voice, getting himself off on hearing your voice moan out his name. "Fuck- this feels so fucking good-" He whined, tipping his head bak agaisnt the shower wall.

He thought fingering himself would feel uncomfortable, but he was sorely mistaken. Your body was made for taking things inside your tight little cunt, the feeling of pleasure immediately washing over his body from just sliding his fingers inside your cunt. He had already cum twice from fingering your body and rubbing your fingers over your sensitive clit, he just couldn't get enough. He had no idea how long he had been in there for, but the water was still running hot so it couldn't have been that long.

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, yesyesyes-" He moaned in your voice, wanting to get the most out of this experience while he could, he didn't know if he would ever get to be this up close and personal with your body again after all. He tweaked your nipples in his fingers, biting your lip as loud moans echoed off the walls of the bathroom, his hips humping into your fingers as he felt himself approach another orgasm.

"Soooooo fucked- heh- S-so fucked up" He groaned, your voice raising in pitch as he fought the urge to keep your legs apart, moaning out his name once more when he came. Your body curled in on itself as he continued fucking his fingers in and out of your cunt, working himself through the orgasm. "A-ahhh ngh- fuck-" He wined, pulling his fingers from your walls as your legs snapped shut, and your cunt clenched around nothing. The friction your thighs brought on your sensitive cunt as you came down from your orgasm felt heavenly.

Your body relaxed under the pelting water droplets hit his body, your gasps filling the bathroom as he tried to catch his breath. Gojo couldn't help but think how much better it felt to come as a woman, he felt like his whole soul left his body each time he came, the electricity that zapped through his whole body and made his mind cloudy was a feeling that could not be beat. He almost started mourning the curse you had killed, he wanted to experience this all the time.

With a sigh he pulled himself off of the floor, standing on shaky legs as he shut off the water and giggled to himself as he took the towel down from the side of the shower. "Fuck, it feels a little sore down there.. hope she doesn't notice, heh." And with that, the white-haired man started to dry off your hair and dress your body back up in the nice clean clothes you had given him.

--

"Fuck- fuck- o-ohmygod" You rapidly stroked your hand over his cock while you stared at Gojo's body in the mirror. It was a weird feeling, being aroused by this body while you had full control over it, but the fucked up situation almost made it more exciting. Gojo's balls felt so heavy and warm under your palm as you massaged in between your fingers. His back arched in the mirror every time you ran your hand over the sensitive tip of his dick.

It had taken you a minute to get used to the feeling and to find the right rhythm, but once you did, you were going fucking insane. You don't know how Gojo had lived his whole life with such a sensitive cock, every time you stroked over his length his body jerked and twitched, pre cum dripped from his dick, and his breath hitched, it was a mess. His needy whines and deep groanes you had occasionally let slip was driving your arousal up the walls, the way his abs clenched under your ministrations, and the feeling of his cock twitching when the stimulation got too much; you were feeling drunk.

"Right fucking- there- yess~" You groaned in his voice, stroking his cock slower but rougher as you squeezed your fist tightly around him. You wished you could fuck someone while you were in his body. If his hand felt this good, could you imagine how a mouth felt around it? Or a pussy? An ass? The possibilities and fantasies you were painting in your head were making his balls tighten, a familiar feeling coiling itself in the pit of his stomach.

"Shit, think I'm gonna cum." You vocalized, wanting to hear his voice, as the effect it had on you was embarrassing. You might be incapable of saying the filthy shit Gojo says on a daily basis, but you were sure as hell good at moaning and vocalizing your pleasure when something felt good. You wanted to hear how his voice sounded when it moaned out your name, but the embarrassment was too much, just thinking about it made you blush.

Your breath picked up as you thrust his hips to meet your strokes, both losing rhythm as you brought his body closer and closer to orgasm. "A-ahhh- fuck its coming its- fu-fuck-" You groaned, watching with a slacked jaw as long ropes of cum spurted out of his dick. Some of the ropes coated his hand and eased the slide on his cock as you stroked him through his orgasm, some being shot out onto the mirror in front of you, making the whole scene look pornographic.

His orgasm felt different from the ones you were used to, but it felt just as good. The heat was stronger in the pit of your stomach, and his cock was ten times as sensitive as your clit usually was right when you came. You felt different afterward too, a wave of shame and realization flooded over you when you realized what you had just done. "Ughhhh.." You groaned, being able to blame the unreasonable hornieness on this new body of yours as you washed the shame from your head, using a nearby towel from the other night to wipe off your dirtied mirror and his sensitive cock.

You winced and sucked a breath in through your teeth at the oversensitivity you felt while you wiped off his softening cock; silently curing him as it was still massive when it was flaccid. As soon as you tucked his cock back into his pants and straightened his apearance back up, you heard a knock on your door that nearly sent your soul flying out of your body.

"Let me innn, it's cold out here~" You heard your voice whine from the other side of the door. You took a deep breath before you walked over to the door and pulled it open, being faced with a damp-haired you. "Why do I look like shit? My face is so red." Gojo complained, walking past you as he dumped your clothes in your hamper before he walked over to your mirror to fix up your still-wet hair.

"Just got hot," You brushed off his remark. "How was your shower?" You asked, avoiding eye contact as you watched him fix your hair in the mirror. "Ohh you know~ Hot." He giggled. You rolled your eyes at his words, dismissing him as you plopped his heavy body on your bed and stared at the ceiling.

"I need to get my body back." You mumbled under your breath, making him look over to you from his place in front of the mirror, "What was that?" He asked, making you bite your lip between your teeth as you sighed heavily, replaying the last couple minutes over and over in your head. "Oh, nothing." You replied, biting the inside of your cheek.

part 2 :)