#It's the throwing yourself down at God's feet and asking for your love to be revived

[juricel]

heyyy its me again

I have a silly request for you which you can ignore if you want to, since I think your ask box is piling up haha!

basically,

Yandere reader x pre corrupt shadow milk cookie turns to reader x Yandere shadow milk cookie

Reader, at first is super obsessed and does a lot of stuff for pre-corrupted shadow milk cookie and hes like super disgusted by how they’re acting. And suddenly, reader disappears one day, and hes fine with it

beasts get corrupted then get jailed,,

while in jail shadow milk cookie misses how loving y/n was, and realised that he has taken them for granted </33 And now he wants them back because of how love deprived he became

when hes out of the silver tree he see’s y/n again and at first hes all hip hip hooray !! until he sees that y/ns clinging onto the THIEF!!!

he goes batshit crazy, you can be creative with this if you want or just give your little ideas/comments I just really want more food wahah

so sorry if this doesn’t make much sense, it’s 2am :’)

tysm for reading oh great one!! you don’t have to do this right away dont worry love ur work already

—💤non

a/n: it's okay, i understand what you were aimimg for! I focused on the other requests before this one and had some church duties to do, so I apologize for having you need to wait for so long.

— yandere! shadow milk cookie x past yandere! reader (ft. the bus driver, pure vanilla cookie.)

໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა ۪ ׂ CONTENT WARNING: manipulation, physical abuse, heavy possessive and obssessive behavior, unhealthy relationship, implied forced established relationship, implied mindbreak, corruption, objectification, stalking, pure vanilla cookie needs a fucking break, one of these warnings is not like the rest, potential ooc.

𖦁 blueberry milk cookie was a heaven sent gift from the witches above, he was a celestial jewel, an angel's whisper brought down to earth, the very breath of seraphim—an impossible, transcendental blessing cradled in the tender arms of witches' own grace. he was a splendid confection, kneaded from divine essence, destined to scatter blessings upon the crumbed multitudes of earthbread—a being way out of your league, you, an ordinary cookie who could crumble and wither into a flour with not a single eye batting to your direction.

𖦁 ah, but how radiant he was, you couldn't help yourself from your love, your dear, your luminous, immortal darling. does he even know? does he grasp the way his mind glows, the way his thoughts spill like molten gold onto the parchment of your very soul? he was your everything, your love—your guiding star, your perfect darling, your sole, necessary breath. and yet, the world, the pitiful, ignorant world, could not comprehend his brilliance, like a mere toy, they had molded him, and cast him aside once their utilitarian need had been served; they did not deserve him. no, the world could not deserve him—those who fail to recognize the sacredness of his mind, who treat his wisdom as commonplace, who look upon him without the reverence of a disciple at the feet of a god—it sickens you, stirs a fury deep within your chest. in the hollowed, gleaming corridors of his towering spire, you would see them—fawning, indulging in their miserable, blind inanities, lost in the sick lies they prefer over the sublime truth he alone could offer. and mind you, it was he—he—who spent his invaluable time, his precious moments, entangled with these dull, odious fools, these imbecilic cookies just for them to throw it away! he should not have to share his divine self with such paltry, uninspired creatures. no, no, no. you could not abide it. you would sever every connection, carve away every distraction, erase every tether that pulled him from you. and if it were required to cloak him in the softest, most unrelenting shadow, to shield him from the world that could never grasp his greatness, to hide him where only your gaze could drink in the luminous glow of his mind—so be it. you would protect him, cherish him, and keep him safe from those who could never understand him as you do.

𖦁 yet, he couldn't seem to understand it all; with every embrace, a look of disdain was given to you, as if you were a taint smeared upon heavens, can't he understand? these cookies were the one that were evil! they will defile him, corrupt his very name with degeneracy! you were merely shielding him away from the evil, how could he not comprehend that? he must've been brainwashed. yes, surely, or so that was what you wanted to believe, however, all his actions proved otherwise: with every touch, he recoiled, like a skittish moth repelled by the flame it once sought. with every affectionate word, he replied in clipped, mechanical syllables, blunt and cold, each one landing with the weight of a slammed door. there was no love in them—no warmth, no hesitance, no trace of a feeling that might, by some miracle, have softened the harsh lines of his indifference. you learned quickly that tenderness was a language he neither spoke nor cared to decipher. a hand reaching for his own was met with a perfunctory pat, a touch devoid of meaning, as if acknowledging, rather than returning, the gesture. you could pour all your warmth into him, let it trickle down the cracks in his facade, but he would not absorb it. He remained, steadfast in his distance, near enough to torment, far enough to elude. you tried to believe in the silences, in the space between his words, in the possibility that somewhere beneath that marble exterior, there was something that resembled love. but hope, much like affection, was wasted on him. you tried, really! to continue loving him, you truly did, but, ah, your feelings leisurely diminished into grains of flour until your love turned into rust and dust.

𖦁 it wasn't long until then your unfortunate sweet dear darling, the celestial beacon in your life was sullied into taint when you vanished into thin air. from graces, he fell, and into the bottom of the endless pit of corruption.

𖦁 and oh, how much he changed: in the cold, lonely cell, he reminisced the past, thought of you, thought of your oh so tender gentle caresses! and to say that it made him deprived of warmth, made him ache—hunger not for food, but for yours was an understatement. he sought and yearned for it, hunger gnawed, a sensation with fangs, sharp and insistent, curling inside his ribs like a starved serpent. he gwaned for you—not sweetly, not poetically, but in the way of a body denied water, of lips cracked and trembling at the edge of a mirage. oh, to be held, to be devoured, to be anything but this wretched hunger pressing against the ribs, licking at the throat, whispering: more, more, more... ah! he couldn't stop it! he promises to himself that he'd apologize to you and pamper you with affection once he gets out of this petulant little silver tree!

𖦁 and he'd definitely stick to his word; the moment he flees from the withering tree binding him and his allies, he had his priorities straight: to find his dear darling! he was beyond ectastic, thoughts filled of embracing you once more and kissing you, but, ah, none could prepare him for the sight that would unfold infront of his very gaze—his sweet puppet was linking arms with /him/. at first, he laughed, he chuckled and brushed it off, no, no, surely he was just presuming things! there was no way his dear would betray him and replace him with such a... ungracious caricature of a cookie, right? right? if you were, he'd definitely need to give you a better eyes as a replacement which was a no worries for him! he has a nice stock of replacement! surely, you wouldn't stoop down to that level of degeneracy. yet, you didn't approach him like he thought and dreamed of within the silved tree, you only took a cautious step back, away from him, away from your perfect celestial darling and to the burlesque version of himself, realization dawned and it made him seeth with anger.

𖦁 blasphemous! how dare you! you superseded his spot with this thing?! to betray him was one thing, but to replace him with this cheap copy of himself whom hadn't grown ever slightly intelligent despite wielding his own power?! you little pest! he'll make you pay for this. oh, and, don't worry your pretty little brain! he promises to be much, much more tender than he will be to him, it will be grand, a show that will mark itself in earthbread's history. so won't you be a good little dear and wait till he finishes his one last marionette show before tending to you?

𖦁 and as for the destiny of the silly little thief... ah, he vows to make him taste his own medicine and he'll make certain it will be a fate worse than crumbling away! he wasn't gonna kill him, no, no, death was far too gentle, he was gonna corrupt him, brainwash his mind with sweet, insidious poison, and distort his reality into a glistening hall of mirrors where every reflection was a lie, every whisper a trick of the light. he would unravel, unravel most grotesquely, as his reason frayed like moth-eaten silk, his thoughts dissolving into the same exquisite delirium that had once seized his own skull in its venomous embrace! and most importantly, he was gonna make him feel like what it felt like to be in his place! he stole his soul jam and now you, surely he doesn't think he can get away with that, can't he? no, no, if he wants to take from him so badly, he was gonna make him /him/.

𖦁 but ah, don't be so upset, dear. shouldn't you be exhilarated? he's giving you the attention you craved for, the attention you digged the sand and soils for until your fingers scarred and numbed for, the attention you yearned and sought for like a madman. so, why won't you clap, give your sweet jester an applause for his spectacular show? don't tell him you were still concerned of pure vanilla cookie! he simply put him in the right path, the road down to the deepest depths of hell, of course, but it was still a befitting destination!

𖦁 yet, still, still, you prattled on, fretting that lovely little head of yours over pure vanilla cookie—his name tumbling from your lips like some sacred incantation, a hymn to a god too distant to listen. and oh, how it curdled something deep inside him, how it set his very marrow alight with a fury so exquisite it was almost pleasure. could you not see? he was here. here, before you, in all his resplendent, fevered devotion, and yet you—blind, foolish, maddening thing—spoke of another. oh! perhaps a lesson was in order. yes, yes, that's right, a lesson. a gentle one, at first—he was, after all, a man of remarkable patience. a game, then, a little amusement, something to turn those wandering thoughts back where they belonged. he would not interrupt, no, never that. he would only guide, nudge, mold. and in the end, oh, you would see. you would understand. you would learn.

𖦁 and to say the wait had been merely excellent would be a crime of understatement, a paltry insult to the fevered anticipation that had coiled and uncoiled within him for so long. no, the outcome was a marvel beyond the bounds of mere expectation. you were back, back as you had been, intact, whole—his darling, his own, still in possession of that precious, once-fractured self. giddy with triumph, he would fall against you, arms encircling the exquisite stillness of your form, his dear darling, still and unresponsive—your gaze, those glassy and depthless eyes, did not meet his but stretched past him, unfocused, fixed upon some distant and nameless horizon. there was no flicker of recognition, no gentle return of his embrace. and yet, he clung to you, triumphant, unbothered by your silence, unshaken by your vacancy. you were here. that was more than enough.

a/n: I've received like... so many requests featuring pure vanilla cookie with yandere shadow milk cookie after i made that one post... do you guys want him dead? anyways, i just lost my pity in the guaranteed banner to fucking sherbet cookie. i need frost queen to turn him into snow once again... can someone bless me their mystic flour luck, ill give you my burning spice who is currently 4 stars (f2p)

[antiyourwokehomophobia2]

My utter obsession with griddlehark is not very "the locked tomb series sucks" of me.

[ariestrxsh]

જ⁀➴ ♡🍨 content warning: smut, innocence corruption, masturbation, use of toys, oral (f!receiving), fingering, loss of virginity, sneaking around, getting caught, forbidden, small age gap (both characters are adults), pervy!matt, brotherbsf!matt, innocent!reader

જ⁀➴ ♡🍨 summary: your older brother is back in town for summer vacation, and he brings home his childhood best friend, matt sturniolo, who can't seem to keep his eyes off how much your body has changed since he's last seen you.

જ⁀➴ ♡🍨 this fic was requested/inspired by this ask! enjoy. (p.s. sorry i made matt so pervy in this. honestly idk what got into me. 🙈)

young god

You were in your room, listening to music, headphones in and volume on full blast while you sat on the edge of your bed, flipping through your playlist when some movement out of the corner of your left eye broke you out of your focus. You glanced up at your partially open door to see your older brother peeking through and tapping on the barrier to try to get your attention.

He was finally home for summer vacation from his second year of college. "Hey!" You jumped up, taking out your earbuds and throwing your arms around him in a big hug. "Hey, little sis. It's been a while," He greeted you, not having seen you since winter vacation earlier that year. Behind him was Matt Sturniolo, his childhood best friend who you hadn't seen in even longer.

"Hey, Matt," you said, your gaze traveling over towards your brother's best friend, who looked as attractive as ever. You'd always had an insatiable crush on him, and it didn't help that he had more facial hair, more tattoos, and a more chiseled jawline since the last time you'd seen each other.

He always hit like a drug, like a habit you couldn't kick, like a long-term addiction you couldn't shake. He flooded your system with cascading waves of dopamine whenever you looked at him and interacted with him. You craved him. However, you knew you couldn't ever pursue him.

Your brother had always warned you about him. "I know as you get older and start developing feelings for boys, you're gonna wanna start dating. But whoever you date, please don't date my friends, especially not Matt Sturniolo. I know he's my best friend, but the kid's bad news. He's only after one thing when it comes to girls, and he's off-limits to you," you recalled your brother saying to you.

After you'd started going through puberty, your brother had been hyperaware of the way your behavior suddenly changed towards his best friend. He'd started picking up on the way you'd been interacting differently with Matt, trying to get his attention more often and trying to find excuses to be in the same room as him, which terrified him.

You didn't know what he meant by that, only after one thing? You didn't know what that one thing was, but you secretly found yourself curious about it, and you wondered if it was something you could give to Matt. But you nodded at your brother, promising to stay away from Matt despite the way your stomach dropped when you looked at his friend.

"Hey, you're all grown up," Matt replied, bringing you back to the present. He subtly checked you out before pulling you into a hug, leaning down, hooking his arms around your waist, and picking you up. He let out a soft grunt as he lifted you into the air. He loved the way your body felt writhing against him as you giggled. "Put me down," you half-heartedly said, secretly loving the you felt in his arms.

Your brother shot him a look as he placed your feet back down on the hardwood floor beneath you. "I'm going off to college after the summer ends. Can you believe it?" You asked, swaying back and forth. "No, I can't. The boys at school are going to adore you," Matt said, nibbling on his lip and doing nothing to conceal the hungry look in his eye.

You didn't notice, but your protective older brother did.

"Hey, Matt and I are gonna go grab some dessert. He's gonna stay the night here. We'll be back," your brother said, wrapping up the conversation so he could go scold Matt in the car and remind him of the rules about hitting on his little sister. "Can I come?" You wondered, your eyes lighting up at a chance to be in Matt's presence once again. "I don't think that's a good idea," your brother started to say.

"Come on. Let her tag along so we can all catch up. I'll buy," Matt offered, looking back over at you with a smug smile. "Fine," your brother hesitantly said, leading the three of you out to the garage. You sat in the backseat in the middle and clicked your seltbelt closed.

On the way to get a sweet treat, Matt sat in the passenger seat with his head craned all the way around, his eyes lingering on your sweet treat between your thighs. You'd forgotten you were in a skirt and were innocently sitting with your legs splayed out while your pink panties peeked out from underneath the short fabric.

Your brother, who was focused on the road, was completely unaware of the show you were unknowingly putting on for Matt.

"So, what have you been up to since the last time I saw you? You got a boyfriend now?" Matt lustfully cooed, not that he cared if you did, while studying the outline of your puffy lips through your underwear. He bit down on his lip while his cock jumped in his jeans at the sight.

Your brother glared over at him, recognizing the tone of voice he was using on you. The same he'd use when trying to take girls to bed. "No. All the boys my age are so immature. I don't want to be with any of them," you said, making a face. "Oh really?" Matt replied in a smug voice.

You guys had arrived at your destination, and after you guys had all ordered your desserts to go, Matt was handing his card over to the employee and giving you sly looks while he undressed you in his mind.

The three of you piled back into the car to head home. Matt watched intently as you swirled your tongue around on your strawberry ice cream, imagining you were lapping up something else. "Thank you for the dessert, Matt. It's so good," you said, letting out a soft moan while you savored the taste. You weren't trying to tease him, but you were driving him wild.

"Oh, a little is dripping onto the sides there," Matt pointed at the melted, pink liquid leaking down the waffle cone, and you licked a long stripe up the dessert, cleaning it off with your tongue. "Almost got it. Give it one more good lick," he urged you.

"That's it. Good girl. You got it," Matt purred, licking hot fudge off his spoon as you dragged your tongue up the length of your cone once more. His eyes flashed back to your panties, and he noted a small damp spot on the front of the pink cotton. Blood rushed to your cheeks as Matt watched you.

Your brother reached over and slugged Matt in the arm, almost making him drop his hot fudge sundae. "Hey!" Matt exclaimed. "Hey, why'd you do that?" You innocently asked, secretly enjoying the way Matt was watching you and talking to you. "Don't worry about it. Matt's just being a perv," your brother scoffed.

You realized where Matt's eyes kept traveling back to when he wasn't watching you clean off your cone. Suddenly, you became self-conscious, slamming your legs shut and going back to eating your ice cream in silence while you looked out the window.

It's not so much that you minded Matt viewing you that way. It's that your brother was picking up on it. You avoided eye contact with both of them, worried that they had noticed how much you liked when Matt had called you good girl.

No one said a word the rest of the awkward car ride home. Later that night, the boys went into your brother's room, which was only ever occupied when he was home from school, to play video games.

You desperately needed to take care of the aching feeling between your legs you'd been wrestling with since Matt had picked you up earlier when you'd hugged him. You reached into your pink panties and started slowly rubbing yourself while you pictured Matt.

On the other side of the wall, Matt and your brother were tapping away on their controllers in front of their game. Your brother was quietly berating Matt for the way he was looking at you and talking to you earlier while they waited for the next round to render.

"Dude, that's my sister. Please don't try anything."

"Relax. I'm just having a little fun making her blush. She's really cute when she gets all worked up," Matt smugly responded. "Gross. Don't talk about her like that. If you lay a finger on her, our friendship is over. I'm serious," your brother said in a somber tone. How about in her? Matt silently wondered, smirking to himself.

"Seriously, I'll kill you if she loses it to you," he told Matt sternly, insinuating you were a virgin. "She hasn't lost it yet?" Matt's gazed off into the distance as a perverted scene unfurled in his mind. "Gross. Forget I told you that. Just stay away from her," your brother said, eating his words after he remembered Matt had a thing for innocence corruption.

"Don't worry," he smirked, holding up both hands up in a defensive position, despite the thoughts going on behind his eyes about stuffing you for the first time. "I'm going to bed after this game. I feel sick after watching you with her today," he grumbled, rolling his eyes.

Matt brushed off his friend's comments. It's not that Matt didn't value his friendship with your brother and love him dearly. It's just that he was weak to his carnal desires, unable to say no to them and unable to turn down temptation when it was taunting him. Especially when it was forbidden fruit.

After they finished their final round, they shut off the light and Matt laid down on the floor next to your brother's bed with a blanket and a pillow. Your brother had fallen asleep and started softly snoring, and right as Matt began to drift off, a low hum woke him up.

At first he thought he was getting a call, but when he peered down at a black screen after picking up his phone, he realized the vibrating was coming from somewhere else entirely. It was low, unwavering, and seemed to be coming from the other side of the wall, in the direction of your bedroom.

Matt stealthily got up and slipped out the room. When he stepped into the hallway, he realized a dim light was pouring out of your room and into the hallway through a crack in your door you'd left open a bit on accident. Matt approached your room and peered in through the sliver of space between the door and the frame.

There you were, bathed in warm candlelight, laying on top of your blanket naked, legs spread, and steadying a vibrator on your clit. Matt smirked to himself as he studied the way your thighs quivered while you used your toy.

Your lips were fixed in an o shape, your cheeks were pink, and your brows were pinched together. You shut your eyes and threw your head back as Matt's name slipped through your slew of whimpers.

He poked his head into your room, pushing the door open, and he slowly invited himself inside, approaching you to get a better look at you. He loved the way your slick folds glistened in the soft lighting, and the way your breasts started to subtly bounce as you started to violently shake.

You were right on the verge of greatness, slowly nearing a climactic ending, when your eyes fluttered open, and you saw Matt standing at the foot of your bed, staring down hungrily at your pussy. Immediately, you grew insecure about being watched, chasing away your orgasm.

"Matt!?" You said his name again, but this time in an aggravated whisper. "Poor thing. All alone in here. Why play with those toys when you could have the real thing?" Matt cooed, reaching for your pink vibrator. You handed it to him while it was still buzzing, and when he rested it back onto your clit, you let out a relieved sigh in response.

"Good girl. Just lay back and relax. Just here to help," he softly directed you. "Oh, Matt," you breathed out softly, lifting your hips up and grinding up against the vibrator in his grip. You glanced down at his smirk and how his eyes were fixed on the way you were clenching around nothing.

With his free hand, he took his middle finger and started teasing your folds with it. Your eyes widened as he sunk his finger into your drooling cunt. For a moment, you thought you must be dreaming. You let out a loud, satisfied sigh as he pushed it all the way in.

"You gotta be quiet, sweet thing. If your brother had any idea what I'm doing to you right now, he'd kill me."

You nodded at him and placed your palm over your mouth to muffle all the noise you couldn't keep yourself from making. "It's gotta be our little secret," he grinned at you as he added another finger, and you could feel the cold metal of his rings on the warm flesh of your thighs as he pumped them back and forth into your heat.

"You're so tight," he whispered, relishing in the way you clenched around his digits while they started to stretch you out. He shut off your toy for a moment, setting it off to the side, and repositioning himself.

He lowered his head between your legs while he fingered you, and he started to work his mouth on your special place, rolling his soft tongue over your clit and manipulating your folds with it. He closed his lips down around your bundle of nerves and gently hummed against it, recreating the feeling of the vibrator, only much better.

You arched your back up off the bed and rolled your hips forward, chasing the sensation of his tongue exploring places no one ever had before. "Like that, princess?" He asked you in between licks. "I love it," you whispered back.

Your eyes rolled back into your head, and your legs started to tremble as he continued stimulating you with his mouth and his fingers. "Good girl. You got this," he cooed while you got close. His fingers curled so perfectly, hitting all the right spots while you kept your hand held tightly over your mouth, desperately trying to avoid waking anyone up.

"That's it, pretty thing. Cum all over my fingers," Matt purred sweet nothings from between your legs while he felt you starting to tighten around his fingers. "Relax. Let it happen. Give in to how good it feels," he talked you through it while you shook beneath him, experiencing your very first orgasm given to you by another person.

You let out a few soft whimpers that you couldn't keep to yourself while you steadily throbbed around Matt's fingers that had slowed to a stop once you'd finished. He licked them clean, and he complimented your flavor as he started pulling his cock out of his sweatpants.

You couldn't see much in the low candlelight, but it was intimidating-looking. You could see the veins that texturized his thick shaft, and you could make out how swollen the mushroom-shaped head was.

"You ever had one of these in here, sweetheart?" Matt cooed, giving you a devilish smile, and introducing his bulbous tip to your slick hole. You bit your lip and shook your head from side to side, confirming your innocence to him.

"Oh, poor thing. Let's fix that. You're way too cute to not be getting fucked," Matt groaned as he pushed it in. You squelched around his thick rod, and he shoved it all the way in until it filled you entirely, the base of his dick resting against your entrance.

You felt your pussy expanding around him as he started rocking his hips back and forth, hitting a pleasant spot deep inside of you. You held your breath for a moment, still adjusting to the size difference between his fingers and his cock, and when you exhaled, a few stifled sounds came through. It hurt so good.

"Good girl. You're taking me so well. Can't believe this is your first dick," he praised you softly while he delivered a few harder thrusts. Soon, there was no pain at all, only pleasure.

He grabbed you by your waist, steadying himself while he started to speed up, getting caught up in how good your virgin hole felt wrapped around him. He watched as he pumped back and forth, fixating on the way you coated his length in your arousal.

"That's it. Take it like the good girl you are. I know you've been dreaming about this for years," he smirked at you, and you eagerly nodded in response. It was like a fantasy come true, losing your virginity to a forbidden man, your brother's best friend, while your brother slept soundly one room over.

The bed started gently rocking and making a soft rhythmic thump thump thump as the headboard made contact with the wall. But each of you were too caught up in how incredible the other person's body parts felt to care about the noises you were making.

Matt picked up your toy again, and after propping your right leg up onto his shoulder to get a deeper stroke, he turned on your vibrator once more and held it on your clit again, sending your eyes rolling back in your head and causing your jaw to fall open in sheer desire. You'd never experienced stimulation quite like this, and you didn't know how badly you craved it until now.

When your gaze shifted back to Matt, he was peering down at you with glossed over eyes and a pleasure-filled expression. You were both at the gates of heaven, about to immerse yourselves into a shared orgasm that neither one of you could fend off any longer.

"That's it. Be a good girl. Finish all over my forbidden cock," Matt whispered, all too aware of the dynamic that existed between you, mocking your brother's attempt to keep you two apart, that instead drove the two of you into each other's arms in a twisted self-fulfilling prophecy.

You both tensed up, Matt injecting you with his seed and filling you to the brim while you throbbed around him, milking him dry. You guys softly moaned in harmony, your bodies moving in unison. The sound of the bed thudding against the wall came to a stop, and the buzzing of your toy dropped off when Matt killed the power on it.

"Wow. Your pussy is so pretty pumped full of my cum," Matt whispered with an edge of thrill in his voice as he pulled his meat out of you and watched the way it leaked out of you while you continued clenching around negative space, recovering from the orgasm Matt had just given you.

He was still admiring the mess he made inside you that started to leak onto your sheets when a stern and infuriated voice boomed from behind him, sending chills down his spine and sending a sobering wave of fear through his system when he realized the two of you had been caught. It was your brother, watching from the door way.

taglist: @bsturnzmtt @sturniolo-girl @theyluvme-2315 @zariyam @brookiecookie-18 @maggot3647 @slut4chriztopher @strnlslvr @sleepysturniolo @lvrsturniolo @sofieeeeex @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @matts-myloverboy @witchofthehour @slutforsturniolosss @jaysturniolo @sturniolosweetheart33 @whoahoahoahoahoa @ilovechrissturniolosposts @smt-obsessed @sturnioloxlver @that1fangirll @hrtz4alex2211 @luvhsien @sp3ncerslvt @sturniolo-munch44 @jakewebberswifee @ssturniolooss @thenickgurl @sturniolo-fann @sst7niolo @babysturniolo @chestersturniolo @riowritesitall @camzeecorner @mattsturnixlo @annedebeijer @scorpioosworld @mattlover-00 @sweetlikesug4rvenom @m11rx @sturniolocharms @mickelodeon-2003 @sigmarizzler1 @chrislova @stellarsturns @lelesturniolo @sturniolodoll @ilovemattsturn @blahbel668

"I thought I fucking told you to stay away from her, Sturniolo."

part two here 🍨

[satoruan]

LESSONS IN CORRUPTION w/Gojo Satoru

IN WHICH: Your teacher finally has his way with you at the end of senior year

( TW ): fem!Reader, dark & explicit content, mean and manipulative teacher!Gojo, Porn w/ no plot, corruption kink, power dynamics, virgin!reader, unprotected sex, cream pie, size difference, breeding kink, blood, fingering, age gap (reader is 19, Gojo late 20's), Gojo secretly records, half edited

Word count - › 1.6K

“You know I love you right?” Satoru asks, cupping your face. 

“I love you too.” You smile up at him as he fingers your pussy. 

“Loved you ever since I laid eyes on you—ever since you walked in my class with that short skirt and those white knee-high socks. My innocent schoolgirl.” He leans down to kiss you on the rose-covered hotel bed.  

It was your graduation party last week, but he said couldn’t make it to your party at your parent’s house, said he had an important meeting, and RSVP no to your parents’ invitation but when you asked them, they looked at you incredulously and asked why they’d send invitations to your teachers. When you went to school for your last week and told this to Gojo he said he did get an invitation and your parents told you that so you wouldn’t get upset that he couldn’t make it. 

—

“Gotta surprise for you though.” Gojo smiles up at you from his chair. You’re sitting on his desk, feet resting on the armrest of your teacher’s chair. Gojo can see your panty-clad pussy from his position under you, but he doesn’t say anything. He knows you’d be embarrassed if you knew he could see your Hello Kitty panties.  

“Really? What is it is!” You set your salad down so he could have your full attention, you know he doesn’t like it when you focus on anything else--even if it’s something as simple as food. You think it’s romantic how much he needs your full attention. 

“Well since I couldn’t come to your party, I figured I should throw you another party, this time just us. It could be our special party.” 

“Oh my god, really?” You throw yourself in his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. His cologne engulfs you. 

“Mhm, and guess what? It’s gonna be a sleepover party at that new fancy hotel that just opened downtown. You excited Princess?” Gojo wraps his arms around your waist, discreetly rubbing his semi on your pussy. 

“Super-duper excited! When is it? Please say soon!” You cheer, innocently bouncing in his lap. Your pussy clenching when you feel his cock rub down the length of your damped cunt. You hope he doesn’t notice. 

“This weekend schoolgirl, your parents approved n’ everything.” He informs you, holding you down on his now rock-solid cock.  

He couldn’t wait for this weekend.  

“Really?” 

“Really, but they told me they want you to tell them you’re staying at your best friend’s house,” you open your mouth to question why but his grip on your waist tightens and he looks down at you angrily. “Don’t question us y/n, you know your parents and I know what we’re doing. Were the adults, you’re just a child, understand?” 

“Yes, Sir.” You nod, not wanting to upset him when he’s always so good to you.  

“Good girl, now finish your lunch sweetheart—no stay on my lap I make sure you eat it right.” 

—

Gojo glances at the nightstand, ensuring his phone is set up before he looks back at you. Rose petals underneath, nipples puckered, and eyes crossed you look like an angel. His angel. 

“Sir! I-it feels weird down there—I think I gotta pee.” Your pussy clenches around his fingers. 

“Just let it happen, princess,” He curls his fingers into your g-spot, his other hand going to rub your clit. Your legs start to shake, and you try to clamp them shut but Satoru’s thighs keep them in place. “Don't—That’s it, let go, let it happen.” 

You never knew what it was like to orgasm, Satoru has only told you what it would be like, but this—this—you could get used to the way your pussy contracts on your teacher’s fingers and your mind goes blank. 

Your hands fly down to his wrists once it’s over, suddenly overwhelmed. 

“S’too much ‘Toru, please no more!” You cry out, another mini orgasm washing over you.  

“Gotta prep you—get you wet enough for my cock sweet girl,” he takes his fingers out of your cunt, and your juices following in suit. “Think you’re ready?” 

“Mhm.” You look up at him like he hung the moon and stars. Right now, if he told you he did—you’d believe him. 

He brings his wet fingers to your mouth, and instinctively you open your mouth. He shoves them in. 

“Can’t wait to see this small pussy take a dick too big, too old for ‘er.” He groans at the thought, pulling his now clean fingers out of your mouth to pull his boxers off.  

You gasp when you see it jump out. It’s huge, the tip is an angry shade of red, and his balls look ready to explode any second. You don’t think with all the prep in the world you could take it. 

“It’s too big, Sir.” you whimper, shyly backing away from him.  

“Don’t run away from me y/n, how many lessons does it take for you to get ‘Don’t question your elders’ through that little brain of yours,” he pulls you back, slapping your pussy. “C’mon now, didn’t you say you loved me?” He pouts, looking down at you with puppy eyes. Your heart clenches. 

“Course I love you—I can take it. I promise.” You grab his face, the one you’ve spent the last semester admiring from afar, and kiss him the way he taught you. 

“Yea?” 

“Mhm.” You lay back down and wrap your legs around his hips. 

He grabs his cock, the head soaked with your juices, and slowly pushes it in. You gasp from the sudden intrusion. His fingers did nothing to prepare you for his girthy cock. He pulls out again before pushing in, this time a few more inches. He repeats this movement until you're filled to the brim. He looks down and chuckles. Only two-thirds of his cock is in your too-small pussy. Blood trickles out the side of your pussy. 

“Hurts.” You cry. He looks up to see thick tears flowing down your cheeks. 

He thinks about comforting you, but he can’t get his mind off your tight pussy. He’s too worried about not cumming prematurely than comforting you.  

“Shh, it’ll feel better soon honey, just lay there and take it.” He starts to move in and out of your cunt. Using your blood as extra lube. 

You claw at his back from the overwhelming feeling of your pussy being stretched. Satoru grunts above you, sucking hickeys all over your breast. After the ninth thrust, you start to moan, the pain quickly turning into pleasure. 

“Sir! Feels s’good.” You moan.  

“Your cunt feels surreal princess, never felt anything like this, think I might need to fuck my students more.” He says into your neck, speeding up when his balls start to clench and ache with the need to release. 

Suddenly, you’re overcome with a surge of jealousy, the thought of him fucking the other girls when you leave for college, teaching them how to kiss, and letting them sit on his lap and eat lunch every day makes you want to cry and scream and the same time. He’s yours! He doesn’t get to fuck anyone else, nobody else should be bleeding on his cock and cumming on his fingers.  

“S’not fair! You’re mine, only mine!” You wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him impossibly closer to you, in you. 

“Then prove it little girl, show me that I belong to you.” He shoves his lips on your pouting ones. 

You throw your arms around his neck and buck into his hips, determined to show him that he only needs you. That you’re enough to satisfy all his needs. 

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum deep in this cunny. Gonna fill you up—watch you get full with my baby and have to drop out of college before you even finish the first semester!” His thrusts turn sloppy, bruising your swollen cunt. 

“Yes, give me your baby Sir, please!” You moan, suddenly thinking about a life with him and a baby you two 've created. You’ve never felt so empty. 

“Please, please, need ‘ur baby s’bad!” You slur, legs tightening around his waist. 

“‘M cummin’ schoolgirl, ‘m fucking my baby into your too-small cunt.” Satoru groans, his balls contracting as he shoots his load into your womb. 

The sensation of being filled causes you to orgasm again, the world going blank for a few seconds.  

“Shit!” Satoru lays over top of you, the weight of him making you wheeze. You lay there silently for a few minutes, unable to form a coherent thought. 

“W-was that good?” you question when your mind clears, thinking back to what he said about fucking other girls. 

“Of course it was princess, best I’ve ever had.” He reassures all the while his mind is racing, thinking ‘bout the new girl that just transferred to your school. He kisses you as he places a bet with himself ‘How long would it take to get her breed full of his child too.’ 

[whatifitis]

♡ When We Are Together - LN 4 ♡

Summary: Lando is a cutie and drama queen but you love him all the same. His balls as well.

WC: 1151

CW: fluff, use of words 'ball' and 'dick' and mentions of sex but nothing happens, lando being a diva

“It’s snowing!” is all you hear before you’re watching your boyfriend sprint out the door with no winter clothing on. He was outside in an instant, already gathering snow in his hands before dropping it and turning to you. “It’s too cold” - he said, scrunching his nose and running back inside to put on some warm clothing and definitely a pair of gloves. 

You watched Lando rush around the house, trying to find his coat and gloves. You stood and watched his antics in amusement, when he suddenly stood still and stared back at you. 

“You muppet, put some clothes on and join me in the snow. Christmas is starting!” he is already going around and grabbing your coat and putting it on you, making sure you’ll be warm in the snow. Once the both of you are dressed, he’s grabbing your hand and pulling you out the door with him. The both of you are already laughing as your cheeks and nose turn red from the joy you feel, along with the cold. Boots crunching the snow beneath your feet. 

Lan only lets go of your hand when he’s crouching on the ground and making a snowball. Once he’s made a semi-circular shape, he’s standing up straight and looking you dead in the eyes. 

“No. Don’t you fucking dare, Lan.” you point at the ball and try to stifle a laugh. 

He’s already on the verge of laughing, positioning his arm, ready to throw the snow at you. He’s giggling as soon as you slowly back away from him. When you see his arm slightly shift, you’ve already turned your back on him to try and outrun the ball. 

The ball ends up landing a few inches from you, into the ground. You turn back to see a very giggly Lando trying to catch his breath. 

“You little twat. If that’s how you wanna play then fine. But you asked for this, Norris.” you say as you create a perfectly round ball of snow between your hands. 

“No, no, no, no. Wait, you just last named me. I’m not ready.” he practically squeals as you start to run towards him. Luckily for you, unlucky for him, your hand-eye coordination was popping off today. 

You were able to throw the ball and hit him, and it landed directly on his ass. You burst into laughter when he turned back to look at his own ass and then to you. You were laughing so hard, your knees nearly gave out. 

“Nah, mate. Did you hit my ass?! Was that on purpose? It was on purpose, wasn’t it. You pervert!” he can’t help but let out a laugh, unable to act serious. He watched you laugh and gosh were you beautiful. Red painted your cheeks and nose, a twinkle in your eyes glistened as you tried to calm your laughter. 

“That was an accident.” you try to get out between breaths of air, “I meant to aim for your back.”

“And that just makes it better doesn’t it.” he turns his back to you, making another snowball to terrorize you with, keeping his back to you he says, “Ya know, I was nice with that first snowball. I missed on purpose. It was essentially a warning shot.” 

Lando stands and turns to face you when he feels something cold and hard hit his crotch. You had never seen a man fall so fast. He had dropped the snowball and fallen to his knees, holding onto his crotch and struggling to breathe. You went into another laughing fit and fell to your knees this time, not being able to contain yourself. 

Lando’s groans of pain can barely be heard over your laughter. Tears were rolling down your face and you were laughing so much, you felt like you might pass out. 

Through wheezes of laughter you try to check on him, “Oh my god, love. Are you okay?” resting your hand on his back as he’s hunched over in pain. 

“Am I okay? Am. I. Okay? Are you really asking that?” he laughs as he launches up and playfully tackles you to the ground. He’s tickling you and not letting up, “Are you seriously asking if I’m okay after you hit my balls?!” he laughs. 

You can barely breathe so you beg him to stop for a minute, and he does. He moves off you and flops onto the ground beside you. The two of you try to catch your breaths so you just lay there together, watching as the sky turns to night. 

Lando lies next to you and you can feel as he hesitantly reaches for your hand with his pinky finger. Without a second thought, you grab his hand and hold on tight. Turning your head to look at him, you’re met with his eye crinkling smile, the same one you fell in love with all that time ago. 

“Guess what.” Lando says. 

“What?” 

“Snow angel!” he screams and he’s immediately flailing on the ground trying to make a snow angel, “Ah, fuck it’s cold. But I gotta commit. Fuck!”

You laugh at his antics and join him in making some snow angels. After a few seconds, Lando is standing and pulling you to stand with him before he’s bolting back inside the house. Once you’re both inside, he’s shutting the door and running to light the fireplace. 

The poor boy is shivering like a chihuahua that’s got no clothes on. You grab a blanket off the couch and wrap it around Lando and you join him in sitting on the floor, before the fireplace. 

“You know you hate the cold, why’d you go outside in the snow?” you ask. He was the biggest baby when it came to the cold so you’re surprised he lasted that long outside. 

“I was feeling romantical. I know you like to have those sorts of memories and I thought it’d be fun. While it was fun, I nearly lost my balls twice!” he exclaims, putting up two fingers so you could see just how traumatized he might’ve been, “First, it was so cold that I was afraid that my dick would just fall off. Second, you threw a snowball… AT MY DICK! It’s like you don’t want to sleep with me anymore. If that’s the case just say it.” he jokes. 

“Lan, that’s not wha-” you’re cut off by his theatrical fall to the ground as if he’s fainted. 

“ I can’t believe it. My own GIRLFRIEND doesn’t want to sleep with me anymore. Ugh, God what did I do to deserve this.” 

“Lan?” “Meh”

“Lan”

“Mh”

“Lan!” 

He sits up, “What?”

“I love you. And I still want to sleep with you. Dickless and all”

“Sick. Best girlfriend ever!” he says as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a tight hug where he covers your face in kisses, “You’re also fit as fuck.”

[tasteracha]

a/n: when my angel @astraystayyh asks me for something i deliver. or make an attempt to. anyways please watch this before reading. warnings: subby hyunjin, mentions of alcohol, smut - MINORS DNI.

you loved all the colors of hyunjin. how could you not?

the deep shaded power with which he dances, sweat dripping off his temples and a fierce look in his eyes that only show when he’s on stage or pounding into you late at night. the carefree pastels that breeze through his hair when he has a day off, spending all his spare time with you with your fingers interlocked like he would lose his way otherwise. the soft mauves and grays of his sleepy eyes in the morning while you draw your fingers across his scalp, tracing along his nose down to his lips to feel the plushness underneath your skin. 

but the one that holds a fonder space in your heart was the one you were looking at now. his face is painted with the brushstrokes of a glass of wine, redness on his cheeks and stained across his lips. he’s warm, you know he is, even if you haven’t touched him yet. your own half full glass sits forgotten on the nightstand, the heat from the alcohol just enough to burn at your stomach and scorch high on your cheekbones. 

he’s talkative, speaking about everything and nothing while he holds you in the palm of his hand with just his eyes. soft giggles escape his lips, given to you freely despite how precious every sound that comes from his lips are. you take his hand in yours, finally drinking in the warmth of his palm as you hold it to your lips for a chaste kiss. it was innocent, a helpless motion that you don’t even realize you’re doing, but the look he gives you in response is anything but that. his eyes darken for a moment before he groans, sliding onto his back and stretching out his tired limbs. his cardigan rides up, exposing a sliver of his shoulder, taught skin over hard muscle, and you can feel your mouth begin to water. 

he’s left with his head tilted back, his neck a blank canvas begging to be colored by you, and your heart begins to beat faster. 

“god, i love you,” he turns his head towards you, letting his hand fall onto his stomach right above the waist of his pants. his legs are spread, beckoning you to fill the space between them. “did you know that?”

he’s not drunk, at least not from the wine. he’s drunk off of you, the mere presence of your body in bed with him is enough to make him lose a bit of his sanity. 

it’s not as if you’re any better with the way your body is singing for him. 

“yes, silly boy,” you smile, leaning over him to brush your lips against his jaw. “you only tell me every day. it’s not as if i could forget it.”

you throw your leg over his and slot yourself into the space that he left for you, and for the first time in the night he is silent. he watches your every move and his breath hitches when you place your hand next to his, ghosting across the muscles rippling on his stomach. 

“i love you, too,” you lock your fingers with his, squeezing them together. “do you want me to show you how much?”

he barely gets time to breath out a yes before you’re leaping forward, kissing him with a passion that never depletes no matter how much time passes by. he opens his mouth for you and you take the invitation, sliding your tongue against his. you can’t get enough of his taste, wine and his cherry lip balm and him. you move your lips down to his neck, biting sharply then soothing the spot with a lick. his arms wrap around your waist and pull you closer to him, but before he can get too far you take his wrists into your hands and pin them to the mattress at his sides. 

“keep these here, okay?” he nods so quickly that his hair shakes with the movement. satisfied, you sit up and slide down, dropping to your knees in front of him. freeing his cock from his pants comes more easily to you than breathing, the movements committed to memory like the way his feet move when he’s dancing. you leave his pants hanging off of his knees, too impatient to maneuver them off of him. 

you take his cock into your mouth, sucking lightly and hollowing out your cheeks. you look at him through your lashes, and the innocent look paired with the obscene sounds coming from your mouth making him growl fiercely. he reaches his hand towards your head, moving to card his fingers through your hair.

“darling, you’re so-” he cuts off when you pull away, fixing him with a look. 

“what did i say?” you move your eyes to his hand, still hovering in the air by your head, and he drops it back to the bed with wide eyes. 

“good boy,” you smirk when he shudders, giving him a moment to adjust before going back down on him. you lick a stripe up your hand to ease the slide of your hand on his cock, pairing it with sucking and licking at his head. you take him a bit deeper and you can feel his hips shift. the muscles on his stomach ripple in restraint, and you feel a swell of pride at him doing what he’s told. 

he’s so good to you. 

“where do you want to come?” you move away, leaning your head on his inner thigh as you lazily pump your hand along his shaft. he’s been so good, he deserves to make this choice. 

“i- what?” his eyes are hazy, your words not registering in his pleasure soaked brain. 

“on my face? in my mouth?” your breaths his hit exposed skin and he twitches, his bottom lip capturing between his teeth. “it’s your choice, baby. your reward, for being so good.” 

in truth, he’s barely done anything to deserve a reward, but the fondness you feel for him makes you want to praise him over and over. 

“in-” he clears his throat when his breath catches. “in your mouth, darling, please.”

you run a soothing hand down his thigh but it does nothing to calm him down. you shake your head fondly before taking his cock into your mouth for the last time. you speed up, sucking harder than before, going deeper, moving your hand in a flurry. the sudden change of pace makes him release a series of noises that make your head spin. little whimpers mix with soft moans, and he throws his head back as his entire body goes taut. strands of white paint the inside of your mouth, and the taste doesn’t bother you because it’s him.

you keep him in your mouth, swallowing his release around him and suckling him clean until he starts to whine in sensitivity. he releases his hands from their invisible prison and pulls you up and close to him, tucking your head into his neck and wrapping his arms around you. his hold is so tight, like he’s afraid you’d disappear if he didn’t hold you in a death grip. 

“you?” he whispers, stretching his languid body underneath you and sliding one hand down to cup your ass. 

“i’m okay, you can pay me back later,” you giggle against his neck and he sighs, his entire body going slack as he lets himself relax in his post-orgasmic bliss. 

“did you know that i love you?” he says against your hair, and you snort out a laugh. 

“do you want to do this again?” you roll your hips against his softening cock and he squeaks, tightening his arms around you even more than they already were. 

the sound of your shared laughter echoes through the room, taking the shape of affection that doesn’t need to be spoken.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

WE CAN DIP IF YOU’RE READY ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; your dreams of a peaceful summer are rudely shattered by the presence of your best friend’s older brother; the same brother who rejected you five years ago. the same brother you’re still hopelessly, uselessly in love with.

word count; 7.4k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, best friend’s brother!gojo (he’s the hottest man in the stratosphere imo), mild age gap (five years!), unrequited love, but with a hopeful ending kind of, bittersweet fluff, mostly summer shenanigans and pining, riko is satoru’s younger sister and i would give her the stars, sugu makes a guest appearance, (they’re both just there to bully gojo), he’s fairly mature in this i think, reader is very stubborn and very down bad, [name] is used exactly once

a/n; personally i would let him use me as workout gear (tagging @teddybeartoji @dollsuguru @hayakawalove @stellamancer @vagabond-umlaut !! tysm for the help and encouragement ily 🥺🥺)

one mellow summer morning, over a breakfast of pancake and toast, the puppy-love you’ve nurtured for the past three years finally reaches its conclusion.

you’re seventeen years old. in three months you’ll be eighteen, standing on your own two feet, headed in a new direction — the whole world within your reach.

but right now you’re still only seventeen, and lovesick, and sleeping on a mattress in your best friend’s room; listening to the sound of the nearby sea. you’re seventeen, and dreaming about things you can’t have. you’re seventeen, and foolishly wearing your heart on your sleeve. 

you’re seventeen, and hopelessly, uselessly in love with a certain satoru gojo.

it’s early. your veins are sleepy and your heart is heavy, and you wake up at the crack of dawn just to catch a glimpse of him before he leaves for work. he’s leaning against the kitchen island when you trot down the stairs, and the smell of syrupy pancakes hangs heavy in the air; his bare chest is exposed, pajama pants clinging to the curve of his hips, and he rejects you with an easygoing kindness you wish he wouldn’t grant you.

”you’re more like a younger sibling to me. you understand, right?”

(suddenly, without mercy; a finality to his voice.)

he ruffles your hair, and you’re still sleepy, and you wish you could grasp the strings of your heartbeat to stop it from fluttering like this. wish you could pull yourself out of whatever trance he put you in, all those years ago, when you stumbled over the threshold to your best friend’s house and crashed headfirst into his chest.

”you’re a good kid,” he says, and his smile teeters on the edge of something apologetic. mostly, it’s pitying. ”there are lots of people out there for you.”

he ruffles your hair, as affectionate as ever, the same as it’s always been. not a trace of any romantic intent. the weight of his palm on your head is usually a comfort, but like this?

it’s a specific kind of torture. 

(i know, you want to tell him, but your voice is raspy and your throat feels sort of dry. i know.

but i want you.)

“don’t get hung up on a schoolgirl crush, hm?”

when you finally raise your head, satoru is looking at you, looking through you. kindly, patiently, like a benevolent god; his blue eyes flecked with dots of white, fluffy clouds on a summer sky. tilting his head to the right, as if searching for confirmation, waiting for your response. you muster up the will to nod, smiling in a way that must seem pitiful.

but he just pinches your cheek, throws a backpack over his broad shoulders, and asks you to let his sister know he’ll be home later than usual today.

then he leaves. he leaves you alone with two plates of pancakes on the kitchen table, sugary and sweet, one for you and one for riko. he put whipped cream on top, and chocolate chips in the batter. it smells good. it smells like an apology.

and that’s how it ends. 

there’s no great climax, no real resolution. you bite down on your lip, and spend about an hour pitifully sniffling into a fluffy pillow, even though none of it comes as a surprise. it still hurts, though. your best friend comforts you, tells you that at least you have some kind of closure now — an absolute rejection to make your feelings go away. about time, she thinks, though she’s far too kind to say it outloud.

… except they don’t.

the moral of the story is: satoru gojo doesn’t love you back. he’s known you since you were fourteen, since he was nineteen, and he could never see you as anything more than a naive little kid. you’re his sister’s best friend, and he loves you, but not in the way you love him. it’s not surprising, or shocking. it’s exactly how it should be.

satoru gojo doesn’t love you back. he never will.

(you really, really wish your stupid heartbeat cared.)

five years later, on a breezy summer evening, you step onto a bustling train platform with your luggage in tow — breathing in the scent of a familiar seaside.

above you, seagulls chatter and cry. you look up at them, and then back down; everything feels familiar, despite the time that’s passed since the last summer you visited. the same flowers, peach blossoms and hydrangeas and tulips in all kinds of shades, the same street vendors and aroma of freshly grilled fish. the same cute and quaint port town, quiet during winter and autumn, pleasantly noisy during the warmer seasons. right now, on the cusp of june, there are enough tourists around to make finding the right face in the crowd a difficult task.

luckily, she’s quick to find you. 

there she is. with her long, dark locks of hair, neatly braided, a yellow sundress and matching headband; sunflowers embroidered into the fabric. barreling towards you with a speed that would scare you a little if you weren’t so used to it, so used to her.

riko. your one and only best friend.

she’s nestled into your embrace before you can get any greetings out, and squeezing you so tightly that you have no choice but to let her beat you to it. she’s warm, like a bundle of sunshine. the same as always.

with a low whine of your name, she nuzzles into your chest. “i missed youuuu…”

a chuckle bubbles up in your throat. and even though it hasn’t been very long at all, even though you talk on the phone almost every day and saw each other just a month ago — you indulge her.

“i missed you too, riko…”

another whine, and then she’s pulling back. squishing your cheeks together and pouting petulantly. “you better have! don’t ever make me spend summer all alone again, okay?”

”you’re still mad about that?” you match her expression, sulking. “it’s not my fault i got sick.”

“too sick to see your best friend? too sick to continue our most important tradition?” she shakes her head, letting go of you. struggling not to smile. “awful. just awful!”

“drama queen.” her lips break out into a grin, and yours follow. “i’m here now, aren’t i?”

“you are,” she agrees, quick to link her arm with yours. you follow her steps, leading you towards a familiar house, resting in the distance. you can see it from here, a roof burdened with morning glories, those expensive white walls. “no, but seriously. i’m really happy to see you.” her voice drips with joy, giddy and sweet. “i don’t think i’d survive two months alone with that old man.” 

(… ah. right.)

the girl on your right chatters on and on, clinging to you, gradually melting away your skittish nerves. she tells you about her morning, what she ate for breakfast, the new show she’s been binging — it’s just as familiar as the house that soon comes fully into view. big and expensive, but still cozy, overgrown with flora. you don’t think either of the siblings really bother to take care of it, but it’s a pretty kind of neglect. a cute veranda, a beautiful garden. the apple tree you used to climb.

from within an opened window, translucent curtains swaying with the breeze, the buzz of an old radio spills out. when you strain your ears, you think you hear humming — gentle and sweet.

riko grins, dragging you with her through the opened gate. the yellow paint on the fence is starting to peel, and someone from inside has started pushing the door open, and the butterflies in your stomach can do nothing but sputter and squirm.

it’s summer, and you're back. back in that cute, quaint port town.

(and so is he.)

“why, hello there! if it isn’t my cute little [name].”

time stills, for just a single moment.

he looks the same as you remember. a little taller, you think, but he was always tall enough to tower over you; broad shoulders and long legs, sharp blue eyes gazing down at you. he’s wearing black shades, but you can still feel the weight of his pupils, crumble under the knowledge that his attention is entirely on you. wearing a pair of sweatpants and a tight black shirt, showing off every dip and ridge of his chest.

a pleasantly cool breeze ruffles his white hair, short and trimmed, healthy locks to match his bright and sunny grin.

he looks happy to see you.

“don’t be weird,” comes riko’s voice, breaking you out of your little spell. all while she’s ushering you both towards the door, beyond the threshold, into the hallway. satoru clicks his tongue.

“so hostile today. shouldn't you be in a good mood?”

then he’s turning towards you, tilting his head just enough for his eyes to peek out. they’re crinkled at the edges, and his smile is fond. “how was your trip?”

more butterflies. his voice flows from his glossy lips, smooth and melted, pleasantly deep. you can only hang on to riko’s arm, mustering a small smile of your own. “good,” you chirp. a little stiff, but polite, like you’re greeting an old friend; it’s been so long since you last spoke to him. ”… i’m tired, though.”

your reply is met with a chuckle, a raspy tremor of his vocal cords. it sends a shiver down your spine. the weight on your arm disappears, as riko stumbles forward and kicks her sandals off, muttering something about gum getting stuck on the sole. you’re left standing right across from satoru, suddenly very aware of how much space he takes up all on his own — leaning against the wall, making himself comfortable. and chuckling, with that stupidly sexy voice.

”i bet,” he hums. ”take a nap if you need to, yeah?”

a moment of silence. riko curses in the background, and you shift from foot to foot, unable to properly look into his eyes. for a second, his smile drops — eyes obscured by the black glass of his frames, betraying no emotion. it only lasts a second.

then he’s moving forward.

one large stride towards you, as sudden as a lightning bolt, before he leans down to wrap his arms around you. squeezing your waist, with his biceps, not quite as tight as you remember his hugs being; you wonder if he’s holding back.

(his touch burns your skin, all the same.)

one of his palms finds solace on the top of your head, ruffling your hair. you can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks, terribly sincere.

“i missed you, kiddo.”

a quiet squeak tumbles from your lips, and you pray to every god you can think of that he doesn’t hear it. his chest is pressed right against you, firm, radiating body heat. his limbs wrap you up in it, a cocoon of warmth that makes it hard to breathe. you can smell his cologne from where your cheek meets his collarbone; sandalwood invading your senses.

“i m-missed you too,” is all you can croak out, voice breaking pitifully. at this rate you might actually faint.

just out of view, riko narrows her eyes. before you can plead for help, she’s tugging you away from the embrace, pushing her brother away, and you inhale as much of the fresh summer air as you can. 

“alright, that’s enough,” she huffs, pulling you closer. “c’mon! we should unpack your stuff right away!”

“want me to carry it?” satoru asks, already eyeing your luggage like a predator about to lunge at his prey. even if you say no, you know he’s not going to listen. 

so you let him. and within the next few minutes, you’re seated on riko’s bed, suitcase on the floor, a glass of lemonade in your hand. blinking sluggishly. 

“are you sure you’ll be alright?”

you raise your head. your best friend is looking at you with a questioning glance, head tilted and brows furrowed. now you’re all alone, and it’s quiet, peaceful. her brother went out to buy snacks for you. all you can hear is the low buzz of the radio downstairs, and faraway waves. 

“huh?”

“i mean, with, y’know…” she moves her hands haphazardly, making some kind of gesture you don’t understand. “with my brother. and your… condition.”

you blink.

“… did you just refer to my crush as a condition?”

“well, it might as well be!” she groans, muffled, faceplanting onto the mattress. “don’t think i didn’t see you checking out his biceps just now. you’re so obvious.” 

heat rushes to your cheeks. you try to shoo it away with a furrow of your brows and a too-loud exhale, but it lingers underneath your skin. “look — i —“ you scramble for the right words, brain tied up into fatigued knots. “did you see that shirt? is he buying them a size too small, or what?”

“oh, come on! that’s all it takes?”

another pair of exhales. you cross your legs, and she rolls onto her back. the silence is comfortable, grounding, and all you can do is gnaw at your bottom lip until she speaks up again.

“… you could really, really do better, you know?”

her voice is quiet, now. soft and sincere, delicate as a sheet of glass. you know she’s just looking out for you, that she doesn’t want you pining for a guy who’ll never return those feelings — she’s kind like that, always has been. you love her for it.

but…

“… i just like him.”

you take a tentative sip of your lemonade. sour and sweet. the cubes of ice clink against the glass, fresh condensation cooling down the tips of your fingers. her gaze lingers on your skin. it’s heavy, just like his.

you meet it with a sheepish smile, a little self-deprecating — but not embarrassed. she already knows all about your predicament. 

(you just like him. that’s all there is to it.)

and she pulls herself into a sitting position.

“i know, i know,” she finally sighs, slumping against you, cheek smushed over your shoulder. “just don’t give him more attention than me, ‘kay?”

you let out giggle. “well, duh.”

she gives you a sunny grin.

“okay, good.” 

you put the glass down on the windowsill beside you. just so you can stretch your arms out, falling backwards; a mountain of pillows cushioning your fall. a yawn spills past your lips, and riko sits up.

“wanna take a nap?” she tilts her head, dark locks framing her pretty blue eyes, deep as the sea. “that’s probably good. we’re going straight to the beach tomorrow, you know!”

“mm…” your eyes flutter shut, and you focus on that faraway sound. waves crashing against sand, the whistling of seagulls, the salty scent of the ocean. “that sounds nice.”

despite your exhaustion, you end up tossing and turning that night. not because of your best friend’s snores, or the feeling of a mattress you haven’t slept on in two years — but from the quiet sounds downstairs. glasses clinking, a chuckle here and there. the tv being turned on. tossing and turning from the knowledge that your childhood heartthrob, current heartthrob, is in the same house as you. a little older, a little less childish, even more charming than you remember him being.

you’re older, too. more mature, you like to think, even if the gain is small.

(maybe there’s a chance?)

shaking the thoughts from your head, mind still spinning along to the tune of his humming, you squeeze your eyes shut and try to fall asleep.

you’ll be okay.

okay, nevermind. you’re completely screwed.

“oh, there you are!”

satoru is already waiting up ahead when you step onto the beach, feeling the sand between your toes, a pleasantly cool breeze giving you respite from the sweltering heat.

the sun beats down on you, fervent sunlight warming the water up ahead, calm waves and a sparkling blue to match the hue of the sky; cobalts and ceruleans, melting together like watercolour on a canvas. people crowd around the food stands, shaved ice and churros and grilled fish, scents mingling together with the joyous chatter all around you. vibrant sensations, enough to excite but not to overwhelm. 

a picture-perfect summer day.

your heart tingles with something giddy, skipping happily as you follow riko’s lead; she’s wearing a cute bikini set, frilly and floral, hair styled into a pair of braided pigtails, kept together by her favorite scrunchies. leading you towards her older brother, waiting patiently, having already grabbed a nice spot for you. a parasol, a blanket, a picnic basket. you see bottles of pink lemonade, wrapped sandwiches, strawberries in a plastic container.

more than anything, you see him. you see him, and realize just how screwed you are.

he’s smiling, when you approach. as always. hair tousled by the ocean breeze, blue eyes gleaming with mirth, exposed by the sunglasses close to slipping down the bridge of his nose. he’s wearing a hawaiian shirt, black in colour, white floral patterns to tie it all together. just unbuttoned enough to show off his collarbone, a sliver of his chest, the short sleeves exposing his biceps; patches of pale skin, shining with the beginnings of sweat. 

(you’re about to fucking explode.)

as soon as you’re in sight, satoru lights up, aiming the flash of his phone in your direction. his other hand stays tucked into the pocket of his shorts. “aw, look at you two!” he coos, grinning brightly, teasing and sweet. “pose for the camera, okay?”

you’re still too hypnotized to react, but riko scurries ahead, ready to steal it from his grasp.

“no pictures!”

“oh, don’t be like that!” he takes a step back, dodging her attack by a hair, still wearing the same grin. “you’re gonna thank me ten years from now, trust me. it’s for the memories!”

a new voice spills into the air, suddenly, and you’re brought back into reality. it’s silky and low, smooth and nice, honeysuckle nectar turned into sound. interrupting the siblings.

“it’s been ten seconds. how are you already bickering?” 

you turn towards its source, and spot a familiar face — right next to satoru. were you seriously too mesmerized to notice him? black hair, another hawaiian shirt, slightly lidded eyes… 

suguru. 

he meets your surprised stare with a relaxed smile, and takes a step forward; meeting you for a quick hug. he looks the same as he did when you were younger, odd bangs, hair tied up into a bun.

“hi there,” he hums, right by your ear, a light squeeze before he lets go. “it’s been a while.”

you part your lips, smiling through your words. a little stunned. “i didn’t know you’d be here too!”

he chuckles, a light shrug of his shoulders. “me neither. satoru called me last night and asked me to drop by... i had time to kill.”

“you missed me.”

a dubious look. suguru gives a lazy roll of his eyes, avoiding the smug voice to his right. “i saw you last week,” he tuts, an unimpressed expression on his face. “how could i miss you?”

“do you need a reason to miss your best friend?” he shakes his head, slowly, side to side. white locks swaying back and forth. “awful. just awful.”

you stifle a smile, completely unsuccessful. the sun feels nice on your skin, and the scent of the sea is nostalgic, and they’re all the same as ever. it’s like you can feel your nerves melting away, slowly but surely, like grains of sand slipping through the gaps between your fingers. 

“the matching shirts are cute,” you point out, wanting to partake in the conversation, only to be met with a pair of furrowed brows.

suguru sighs. “that…” he mutters, massaging his temple, not before shooting satoru a dirty glance. “wasn't planned.”

said man only grins, unperturbed, tucking his phone back into his pocket. thoroughly amused. “he’s mad that i stole his fit,” he chirps, stretching his arms idly. it makes his shirt ride up, ever so slightly, and you swallow a gulp.

“well… you look good in it.”

at that, satoru stills. gazing at you, silently, before breaking out into another grin. self-satisfied, a smooth curve, sunlight against the white of his teeth. you glance away, suddenly a little shy.

“does he?” the other two deadpan, completely in sync. it shoos away the smile on his lips, making way for a displeased frown.

“oh, come on. would it kill you to call me handsome now and then?”

“handsome?” riko places her hands on her hips, raising an unimpressed brow, a sassy lilt to her voice. “you look like a single father down on his luck.”

“seconded,” suguru quips, hiding the beginnings of a smirk. picking at a piece of lint on his shirt. “honestly, i’m surprised you’re wearing any layers at all. not gonna flaunt your abs this time?”

satoru brightens, suddenly. wiggling his brows, a sweet coo on the tip of his tongue. “oh? want me to loosen up a couple buttons?” he purrs, and you hate yourself a little for the instant yes that resounds through your mind. “you know you can always just ask, suguru.”

his teasing goes ignored, but you don’t miss the amusement that flits through the scope of suguru’s eyes, even as he tries to maintain that deadpan expression.

finally, he exhales. “well, see you later,” he hums, directed to you and riko, checking the time on his wristwatch. “i should probably get going.”

“you’re not staying?” you ask, lashes fluttering with a confused blink. he smiles.

“i am,” he reassures you. “just gonna go fishing for a while. i thought i’d give it a try.”

“fishing?” riko exclaims, covering her amused grin with the palm of her hand. stifling laughter, you can tell, a bout of giggles begging to push past her lips. “what are you, fifty?”

satoru lets out a snort. to his left, suguru goes eerily silent — ominous, staring into your best friend’s eyes with no visible emotion. enough to make her smile fall. you feel a sense of deja vu.

“wait, i’m just kidding!” she suddenly squeaks, clinging to your arm and hiding behind you. she’s always had good survival instincts. ”don’t put me in a headlock!”

(they’re so stupid. 

gosh, you missed them.)

“oh, by the way — do you want some shaved ice?” she turns to you, eyes crinkled at the edges, voice syrupy and sweet. “i can go get us some. what flavour do you want?”

“ah, great idea!” satoru matches her tone, tongue flitting out to lick his lips, glossy with chapstick. “i was just craving something sweet.”

“you’re paying, by the way.”

“…”

“so? any preference?” she tilts her head, waiting patiently for your reply. smiling once she gets it. “alright, got it. you, suguru?”

“i’m good. thanks, though.”

“okie-dokie,” she puts her palm out, facing satoru. “money, please.”

he only tuts, digging through his pocket and pulling out a black wallet. you think you spot a photocard, but he’s pulled out a credit card and tucked it back into his pocket before you can get a closer look. 

“get me watermelon, okay? strawberry is fine too. if push comes to shove, go for anything other than lemon.” he hands her the card with a click of his tongue. “and watch out for creeps. if anyone hits on you, you know where to aim.”

she pockets it with a huff, exasperation on her features. “i’m twenty-three, toru. i can take care of myself.”

“aww, don’t be like that,” he coos, hands reaching out to squish her cheeks. she tries to squirm away, to no avail. “you’ll always be my little baby sister, you know. and, as your dependable big bro, i —“

“ugh, whatever.” she shoots him an unimpressed glance, finally escaping his hold. ”are you gonna go all men are wolves on us, or something?”

”they are! just look at suguru.”

”hey.”

you hide a growing smile behind your hand, watching them bicker and banter, feeling that sense of peace again. the summer day feels a little like a hazy daydream, a heavy nostalgia that sticks to your bones like gum on the sole of your shoe. 

and, once again — you end up alone with a certain someone. suguru walks towards the faraway pier, riko strolls up to the stand selling shaved ice, and satoru lingers behind. you think he looks relaxed, at ease, but you can’t really look at him for too long without feeling nervous. without feeling as if you’re both ignoring the elephant in the room. 

it still feels a little like there’s an invisible wall between you.

he’s the first to speak up, craning his neck and stretching like a big cat, a tiny groan flowing from his throat. “well, there they go,” he hums. “what do you feel like doing first?”

“ummm…” you rack your brain for ideas, coming up empty. a little fried by his presence. you could go into the water, and escape the heat — sunbathing with him doesn’t sound so bad, though…

lost deep in thought, you barely notice him inching closer. still weighing your options, water or land, a relaxing nap or a splash war. you don’t notice until you feel his arm sneaking around your waist, pulling you closer, just by a hair. stealing all the oxygen from your lungs.

(you think your brain shuts down a little.)

his touch burns, as always. bare skin on bare skin. electric, a trail of sparks rushing through your veins. he’s warm, and solid, effortlessly composed — guiding you right where he wants you, which is by his chest, where you can practically hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat —

and then he’s pulling away.

you raise your head to meet his gaze, completely flushed, unsure if you were hallucinating or not. he’s looking somewhere behind you, with a distinctly cold gaze, one you aren’t accustomed to seeing. you crane your neck, catching a glimpse of a man turning his back on you both before walking away.

… was he staring at you, or what?

when you search for satoru’s eyes again, they’re already on you. he’s smiling, a little sheepish, scratching at the back of his neck.

“sorry,” he chuckles. “i got paranoid.”

oh.

your skin still feels like it’s on fire. a lingering heat, blossoming where his skin touched yours, rendering you speechless. embarrassing, embarrassing, embarrassing. he was just looking out for you.

finally, you gain control over your vocal chords, dry and charred. just enough to croak out a response.

“i — it’s fine.”

your eyes stay glued to the sand beneath you, staring at a crushed seashell, unable to look him in the eye. feeling the back of your neck grow hotter. you miss the dirty glance riko sends his way, having just returned with the shaved ice, and the way satoru mouths out a silent what?

it’s easier after that. she grounds you, a little, leading you out into the sea. the water is pleasantly mild, licking at your ankles, coaxing you further, until it’s reaching up to your waist. it cools you down considerably, and before you know it you’re splashing her with all you’ve got, giggles filling the salty air — seagull cries above you and wet sand beneath your feet, a glimmer or two of tiny fish, loud laughter. sensations all around you. satoru watches you with a smile, munching on a sandwich, not joining you both until riko beckons him over.

the day stretches on, melting away into evening. people leave the beach behind them, suguru heads back to the house with a bucket of fish and a smug smile, riko dries herself off with a towel and rushes to a nearby convenience store when she notices that it’s about to close. murmuring something about dinner, shooting you an anxious glance, a silent will you be alright on your own? with him? 

you wave her off with a smile. hoping it’ll come off as convincing, even though you’re anything but.

one way or another, you end up under a parasol with a certain satoru gojo; putting empty bottles of lemonade back into the picnic basket, rolling up the blanket, stuck with cleaning duty. satoru carries it all, unwilling to let you help, the basket hanging off his arm. you walk away from the beach, stepping onto solid asphalt again, beginning your trekk up towards the main street — not too long of a walk, but you’re tired, even though satoru doesn’t seem tuckered out in the slightest. walking a step or two ahead of you.

the sun is beginning to set, melting like a sundae on the boundary of the horizon, rays of golden sunshine dripping down your wrist. satoru looks good in it, the pink and orange; peaceful, somehow. when the breeze licks a stripe across his cheek, he closes his eyes and exhales. there’s a smile on those lips, a smile of contentment.

he turns towards you and waits until you catch up.

“tired?” he coos, tilting his head, absently tucking his shades into the breast pocket of his shirt. blinking slowly, eyes shimmering in the summery hue of evening. 

“kinda,” you smile, trying to muster a pep in your step. another hum buzzes in his throat, and then he’s facing forward again.

“c’mon. let’s get you something from the vending machine, okay? ‘s just up ahead.” he pats your head, once, twice. “that’ll give you some energy.”

you can only nod, following his lead. hydrangeas bloom all around you, a thick syrupy scent, paired with apple blossoms from the backyards you pass. then you spot the vending machine. satoru takes out his wallet, finding his card — it’s not the same one as before. riko still has it.

and this time, you’re close enough to see it. in his wallet is a photocard, clearly visible; of a baby, sleeping soundly, with short tufts of hair. a dark colour unlike his own.

(your heart melts, a little.)

“cola or sprite?”

you raise your head, looking through the barrier of glass in front of you. then you’re stepping forward, fingertip pressing against it, pointing towards a green can of sprite. not looking at him, as you make your choice. ”this one.”

— suddenly, you feel his skin on yours.

you’re sleepy, and pliant, jaw caught between his fingers. he lifts it up, turns it towards him, just so that you’ll meet his gaze. two seas of blue, flecks of pure white, summer skies and summer clouds.

“there,” he exhales, pleased. giving you a reassuring smile before pulling away. “you’ve barely looked me in the eye today. ‘s gonna break my heart, y’know.”

a pause. you gulp, on instinct, shying away from his unbridled attention — eyes moving from those summer skies down to the curve of his glossy lips, and then back up again. a mistake, because when you glance down once more — unable to help yourself — you see it.

that apologetic smile.

(you really are obvious, aren’t you?

how embarrassing.)

silence splits the scene in half, only the faraway sounds of seagulls as background noise. they sound a little like they’re laughing, mocking you.

satoru presses a button on the vending machine, followed by a quiet beep. he doesn’t look at you when he broaches the subject, and you wonder if it’s out of respect or discomfort.

“still not over that schoolgirl crush, huh?”

…

something twists inside your gut. a little ugly, a little sentimental. now that he’s made the first move, it’s easier to move the pieces.

“… it’s not a crush,” you murmur, kicking at a pebble on the ground. surprised by how clear your voice comes out. “i’m in love with you.”

a sigh. another beep, and the sound of a sodacan falling against metal flooring. he crouches down.

“… you could really, really do better.”

you watch as he fumbles with the pick-up box, eyes trained on the back of his neck, the buzzed hair of his undercut. letting out a quiet breath. “riko said the same thing.”

a snort pushes past his lips, ripe with fondness. he pulls himself up from the ground, shifting his weight from one foot to another, reaching for his wallet again. “oh, i’m sure.” he tucks the card back, slipping it into his pocket. a stray cat strolls by you, unburdened, waving its tail in the air. “really, though. you should listen to her.”

something cold meets your cheek. metal, condensation, a pleasant shiver down your spine. he presses the aluminium can against you, and you receive it with a murmur of thanks.

“i’m too old for you, for one.” he continues, and suddenly you feel a little like you’re being lectured. you break open the lid of the sprite can.

“you’re five years older.” a fizzy sound crackles like static in your ears, carbonation bubbling up, sticking to your fingertips. “and we’re both adults.”

he huffs out a breath, only mildly amused. “i’m pushing thirty, y’know?”

you take a sip, lips against cold aluminum, melting sunrays lapping at your skin. it tastes sweet. 

“i know.” a pause, your bottom lip trapped between two sharp teeth. gnawing at the flesh. ”i can’t control how i feel, though.”

…

“yeah,” he sighs, leaning back against the glass. crossing one leg over the other, fiddling with something in his pocket. “i know.”

a moment passes. then he parts his lips, again.

“hey, how about you join me on a mixer someday?” he searches for your gaze, smiling, another one of those charming tilts of his head. “i know some cute guys. and girls, if that’s your thing.”

your answer is instantaneous.

“i’ll pass.”

…

another exhale, breathed out into the summer air. it’s dripping with exasperation, ripe with fatigue, but there’s still something fond there. unmistakable.

“fine, fine. just… think about it, okay?” his palm finds its way to your head, ruffling your hair with a gentle caress. that comforting weight. “c’mon, let’s go back. riri’s making dinner tonight.”

and then he’s taking a step forward. you watch his back for only a moment, still deep in thought. a fizzy, syrupy sweetness sticking to your teeth, a sense of nostalgia invading all your senses. and, as always, that silent adoration.

deep down, you know it’s true. there’s no changing this, whatever this is. in the same way riko will always be his baby sister, you’ll always just be the brat that sniffled into his chest after your first fight with her. 

he’ll never quite see you the way you’d like him to.

(but, then again, isn’t that a part of it? that subtle, subtle kindness of his. the sense of maturity that asks for nothing in return.)

satoru is a good guy. that’s why you can’t help but adore him, despite everything. can’t help but watch his back as he leaves you behind, wishing you could catch up. that your legs were long enough.

it feels nice, to open yourself up like this. crack the lid of your heart, and have him wade through the carbonation. it feels nice to have your feelings be acknowledged, even if they aren’t reciprocated, even if you’re completely delusional and high on summer joy. it feels nice just to watch him shine.

you gulp down the rest of your sprite, toss it into a trash can across the street, and stumble after him. veins sleepy, heart heavy, overwhelmed by adoration. you’ve already cracked the lid open; everything else comes easy. you just want to make a move, any move. want to see how he’ll react.

“satoru,” you call, and he comes to a standstill. when he turns around your arms are outstretched. “can i have a piggyback ride?”

the man before you blinks. once, then twice, fluttering like angel wings, or pretty clouds. 

and then his smile grows. you catch a glimpse of his dimples, for just a moment, and then he’s beckoning you closer with a chuckle.

“yeah? now you’re suddenly all brave?” he shakes his head, no real discontentment behind it. “or are you really that exhausted?”

he studies you intently, ripe with fondness, and you think your sluggish blinks must be enough to convince him. because he crouches down, back facing you, and chirps out a hop on. a little teasing, of course, but still nice. his arms underneath your thighs, lifting you up like it’s nothing. making sure you’re comfortable. he’s strong. very strong.

the butterflies in your stomach flutter around again.

and, honestly, you really are very exhausted. bones buzzing with something sleepy and fatigued, sore after all the running around you did in the water. completely tuckered out, resting your cheek against his back. like this, you can feel his muscles, the solidity of his body. it’s a little bit distracting.

“— remember?”

a series of blinks. you grasp onto his shoulders, holding back a yawn. “huh?”

“you falling asleep on me?” he chuckles, walking forward. one step after another, the soles of his sandals hitting the asphalt. “i was saying — how i remember doing this back then.”

you tilt your head.

“when you fell and twisted your ankle. i think it was nearby, actually… some park?”

“... oh.” when you really concentrate, you think you do recall it; the feeling of his back against your chest, a dull ache in your foot. “yeah, i remember.”

satoru hums, a little buzz of amusement. “after that, you and riri would ask me for it all the time. carry us, big bro!” his imitation makes you smile, voice high and squeaky. “so childish, i swear. i could barely carry one of you.”

a chuckle tumbles from your lips, and it seems to spur him on; because he continues. nostalgia pouring out his throat.

“don’t tell her, okay? but, see — i started going to the gym after that. lifting weights. training, and stuff,” he huffs out an amused exhale, grinning softly. “suguru made me carry boulders on the beach. it was kind of our thing.”

…

“we almost got arrested once.”

you can’t help but laugh, hiding in the smooth fabric of his shirt, in between those printed white flowers. shoulders shaking slightly, giddy and amused. “you did that just ‘cause you were embarrassed?”

“no,” he murmurs, softly, the slightest shake of his head. ”because i wanted to be prepared. in case the two of you ever happened to fall over at the same time, or something…” a sheepish little chuckle. ”i wanted to be able to carry you both back.”

satoru continues to walk, facing away from you. always smiling, you’re sure. even if you can’t see it.

“you’re both precious to me,” he says, making sure to keep a steady hold around your legs. “that’s why i don’t want either of you wasting yourselves on some random guy. i hope you can understand that.”

silence. then, a displeased huff.

“… you’re not some random guy, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“well, of course not. i’m the guy,” he stands a little straighter, and you can practically see the smug smirk on his lips. “but i’m not a very good person.”

you blink.

silence fills the open air.

he says it so casually that you almost don't catch it. matter-of-factly, like it’s just another obvious realization, something so deeply ingrained that it isn’t even worthy of a tonal shift. satoru, who makes pancakes for the people he loves, who carries your bags and buys you soda and keeps a picture of his baby sister in his wallet. satoru, your first love.

that satoru isn’t a good person?

(how could he ever, ever think that?)

“you are.”

a low hum buzzes in his throat. you’re not sure he heard you. if he did, he simply doesn’t care enough to respond. the scene flickers by, the moment comes and goes — you want to protest again, but something about this silence makes you hesitate.

the only thing you can do is —

“satoru.”

another little hum. acknowledging, this time. 

“do you… i mean,” you choke down a bundle of words, replacing them with new ones. gnawing at the flesh of your bottom lip. “is there really no chance… you’ll ever feel the same? none at all?”

…

a mirthless chuckle. he sounds a little tired, you think, more than a little exasperated. but the amusement is still there, laced into his voice, and you drink it in the same way you’ve always done. a little root, soaking in the light of the sun.

“after all that,” he mutters, “you’re still asking?”

a moment’s pause. you listen intently, as if you could hear the gears of his mind shift if you focus enough. as if just being stubborn enough could coax him into opening up the way you have. 

finally, he parts his lips.

“well,” comes a sigh, a click of his tongue. he breathes in the summer breeze. “maybe in a couple decades or so.”

you stare. those white tufts of hair sway with every step he takes, and his voice has a finality to it that isn’t lost on you. solemn, steady, a pillar of salt.

“… okay.”

a pause. then he’s barking out a short laugh, shoulders shaking with the sound. you tighten your grip around them. “okay?” he repeats, pinching the skin of your thigh. “can’t you read between the lines, you little troublemaker?”

a huff. you kick your legs, a little, just stretching them contentedly. wet hair sticking to his skin, your cheek still smushed against him, enveloped in his neverending warmth. “i don’t mind,” you whisper, choking down a yawn. “i’ve already waited eight years. a couple decades more isn’t too bad.”

silence, again. you wonder what he’s thinking, if you’ll ever come close to cracking open the lid of his heart. he parts his lips, and oxygen spills out.

(you think it’s a start.)

“… has anyone ever told you that you’re awfully stubborn?”

you’re quick to nod, nuzzling into his undercut. wearing a satisfied smile. “riko tells me all the time.”

“does she?” there’s silent laughter hiding between his teeth, eager to spill out. “that’s good. listen to her, alright? you might learn a thing or two.”

now he’s just teasing you. the sun is setting, and the air smells like saltwater, and satoru’s back is warm; his voice set to a melodic lilt, as if tempting you to close your eyes. it’s summer, in a quiet port town.

and you adore him again. 

that’s right, you muse, belatedly. loving him was never a choice, and waiting wasn’t ever an issue. getting over him is the tall hurdle, the root of the problem, a root you intend you trip over as many times as it takes for this something to bloom.

because he’s beautiful, and comfortable, and kind. because it’s his back you always end up clinging to. because he knows how you like your pancakes, how you take your coffee, what you look like when you cry. because you like this feeling, the swarm of butterflies in your stomach. even if they’re completely meaningless in the long run.

satoru is right, and so is riko. you’re stubborn, terribly so. if only you could see that as a bad thing.

if only you were physically capable of giving this something up.

unlike the siblings and their overgrown yard, you just can’t seem to look away from an ugly bud yet to bloom — just in case it ends up blossoming, this summer, or the next. just in case it turns into something worth plucking from the ground. it’s fine if it withers away; at least it’ll give way to better soil.

you just like him. you just want to see where it leads you. that’s all, that’s it. that was always it.

“but promise you’ll go with me to that mixer, okay?” his voice calls, breaking you out of your thoughts, unrelenting. ”i’ll find you someone who’ll get your mind off little ol’ me.”

ah. that’s right. 

(you’re terribly, horribly stubborn —

and satoru is too.)

you grin, soft and giddy, thinking of the years ahead of you both. what they’ll be like. where’s the fun in a certain future?

“fine,” you hum, wrapping your arms around his neck. inhaling that familiar scent of sandalwood. “do your worst.”

[emmyrosee]

You’ve been sneaking into Kenma’s room for years.

It started when you were very young, having left your gameboy at Kenma’s house after a few rounds of Mario. You managed to toss a few rocks at his window, and once he silently unlocked the door and let you in, you quickly scurried back out hours later with a grateful smile.

Then, you started to sneak through his window. Seeing the flashes of lights at god knows what hours was something you knew meant he was awake, and you’d climb out from your sheets and crossed the street to his place. Again, you’d throw rocks at his window, and when he’d tried to go open the door, he hadn’t expected you scale up the large tree just a few feet away.

Tonight was no different; he’s tapping away wildly on his console while you scurry up the tree in your slippers, smooshing your face against the glass when he finally sees you and opens the window.

You’d finally tumbled in, and he gave you a tired sigh, “you’re annoying.”

“And you’re still playing. I wanted to watch you play.”

“You could’ve just texted me. You left marks on my glass.”

“I needed the exercise. What time do you need me out of here?”

“Kuroo drags me by the ankle out of here by 06:30. Be out beforehand.”

You smirk and nudge his shoulder with yours, causing him to send you a glare before sitting back down on the floor. “Sleep on the bed, help yourself to pajamas.”

“You like him, kenma,” you tease. You see him tense up before he shakes his head.

“No,” he says simply. “I don’t. Not like that anyways.”

“Just not used to you having other friends besides me,” you hum. He huffs in annoyance.

“Are you gonna watch, or do I have to kick you out of my room?”

“Fine,” you sigh. “I’ll behave. Only because I hate climbing your tree.”

Kenma doesn’t like Kuroo. Honest! He thinks he’s cute, sure, gets why the girls like him and boys follow him around, he’s fine enough on a scale of emotional and physical attraction.

But Kuroo’s not the one Kenma’s eyes stay focused on. It’s you.

You’re funny, he likes the way you eat foods that you don’t like first, before diving into the favorites after to savor them. You’re cute, and you’re bad at the differences between contexts of words, and you have a little eye twitch that bestows you in a moment of quick thoughtfulness.

You don’t ask him why he’s up so late, you ask him the answers to homework and give him gummy worms as a thank you. You never overstay a welcome, always either leaving before the sun comes up, or staying quiet while you sleep on the bed.

He likes the way your eyes shine when you’re excited, the roll of your eyes when he tells you “no” when you want the answer to be “yes”, the little snickers that slip out at Kuroo’s expense at Kenma’s quick thinking.

“Kenma?”

“Im busy.”

“I want to cuddle.”

The way you want physical touch when you’re tired.

Yeah. As your best friend, he really is bias to that one.

With a groan, he pauses and saves his game under slot 3, shuts down the console before crawling up and into his bed next to you, the cold sheets shooting his nerves until they warm under your shared warmth. You bury your nose in his collar and he takes out his phone for you both to watch tiktok.

“Kenma?”

“Go to sleep.”

“When you marry Kuroo, can I be the ring bearer?”

“If i marry Kuroo, I want you far, far from my ceremony.”

He practically hears you pout, “you’re no fun.”

“I sure am not.”

For someone who has no fun, not one fun bone in his body, he’s amazed at how comfortable you are in his grip and he in yours, fingers fisting his nightshirt until his own eyes grow heavy.

And if Kuroo walked in just a few hours later at 06:30, only to see his best friend cuddling with someone he loves most, he didn’t say anything and closed the door softly behind him.

[tojipie]

what would it be like if toji had a needy cry baby gf 😣😣😣

this is such a cute ask omg :(( had so much fun writing this! enjoy

content: anxiety, hurt/comfort, fluff

the telltale sound of a buzzing phone wakes you from your catnap. you shift on the couch, lifting your head from toji’s lap to gather yourself.

“what is it?” he mumbles, pulling your blanket back over your shoulders to keep you warm. the hum of the TV almost lulls you back asleep, eyes fluttering shut.

“mm y’r phone is ringing.” you whisper groggily, rubbing your eye with the back of your hand.

“you wanna go get it for me?” toji asks, pressing a kiss to your hairline as you stand up from the couch, blanket still wrapped tight around your shoulders.

“it’s probably on the bathroom counter.” he notes, kissing you again as a thank you. he was always tender with you when you were sleepy. your heart soars as you make your way upstairs and into your shared room.

you can practically feel the ringing as you cross the threshold of the bedroom door, padding past the bed and into the connected bathroom with a hum.

he must’ve forgotten it here when the two of you had showered earlier you reason, shading your eyes from the lights the two of you left on.

you head towards the counter, grabbing the device and immediately dropping it onto the solid tile.

WHACK

… shit

“shitshitshit.” you curse, toji’s ringtone coming to a stop as soon as the phone had hit the floor.

your heart sinks to your feet all the way through the marbled tile and into the dirt as you approach the device, praying the sound it’d made on impact wasn’t as serious as you remembered.

“no.. nonono oh my god.” you whisper, immediately crouching down to pick his phone up off the floor, eyes filling with tears as you try to gauge the damage.

just as you feared, a massive crack running down one corner to another. the bottom left corner of the screen was completely blacked out save for a few blinking pixels around the edge, it’s touch screen barely responsive as your thumb runs along the electronic gash

hot tears run down your face as you realize the seriousness of what you’d done. toji needed this phone for work, practically had it on him at all times except for when he was at home.

he’d be mad at you, right? this was serious damage, something neither of you could brush off. his kindness only went so far you gathered.

and since when was bathroom tile that destructive? god, you were going to throw up.

“you ok?” your boyfriend yells from downstairs, turning your blood cold.

“yup!” you respond, voice shaking a little more than you intended. your wrap your blanket tighter around your quivering body, quickly wiping your tears with the soft fabric.

“who was calling?”

you curse again, tapping the shattered screen to try and look at the caller ID. you can barely make out shiu’s name with all the damage.

“it’s shiu.” you yell back, trying to soothe the redness around your eyes and nose in the mirror.

the stairs creak as you wobble downstairs, cheeks still wet with fresh tears. what were you even going to tell him? that you dropped his phone once and now it was practically unusable?

“hey thank you sweet gi—”

Toji’s face falls at the sight of you, immediately standing up to wrap you in his arms. your quiet sniffles turn into full blown sobbing as you clutch the phone to your chest, trying your best to hide it from him.

“what’s wrong pretty?” your boyfriend whispers, rubbing your back with a huge hand. the older man presses soft kisses to your cheeks and forehead, leading you over to the couch and pulling you into his warm lap.

“i dropped your phone.” you whimper, shaky hands fiddling with the device as you prepare to disappoint the love of your life.

“yeah?” toji mumbles understandingly. “let’s see it baby, don’t worry.” he reassures you, taking his phone from your lap and turning it over.

“it’s just it was still wet cause you were answering a text in the shower and it slipped from my hand and—”

you gauge his face for an inevitable scowl, maybe a scoff. whatever it was, you deserved it.

instead, toji smiles.

“oh my god.” you whimper. was he so mad that he had no choice to smile? was there simply not any other expression to convey how upset he was?

toji surprises you again as he throws the phone to the side, letting it bounce across the couch cushions.

“that’s it?” he laughs, rubbing up and down your sides.

“you sniffle again, wiping your eyes.

“whadduya mean that’s it… i broke it.” you practically sob, turning to get up from his lap.

warm hands circle around your arms, leading your smaller body back to his chest. the older man wipes your cheeks with both thumbs, pressing an impossibly soft kiss to your hairline.

“nothing I can’t get fixed.” he tells you, smoothing your hair away from your face.

“but it’ll be expensive..”

“not for me.” he laughs

“you should be me at me.” you mumble softly, guilt still knawing away at you.

“why would I be mad at you for making a little mistake?” toji’s voice is soft, reassuring. his chest is warm and he smells like a campfire, practically lulling you to sleep with how tenderly he holds you.

“I’ve literally had a bullet go right through my screen baby.” he laughs. “I’ve dropped my phone out of moving cars, I’ve had it run over. you think i don’t replace this thing every month?”

you gasp, head popping up from his shoulder. “a bullet?”

“you can thank shiu for that.” he mumbles, kissing you again.

“what I mean is it’s nothing i can’t fix.” he tells you, reclining onto the couch and pulling you with him. “how could I ever be mad you?” he whispers into your cheek.

you nod, the last of your tears drying up as your body relaxes on top of his. you hated how bad your anxiety got at times, clouding your judgement and effectively convincing you that the world hated you.

“tell you what.” he starts.

“tomorrow how about me and you go pick up a replacement for me, and then get you a new phone too?” he asks tenderly, tracing shapes into your hair with his finger.

“you wanted the new one right? in pink?”

you nod with a giggle, eyes fluttering shut as the sound of your boyfriend’s heartbeat syncs with yours.

“yeah.” you tell him shyly, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “in pink please.”

[gladiatorcunt]

Art seems like such a sub, like he’d be so down pathetic when he sits between your legs, back to your chest while you give him an hj. He whimpers while you whisper dirty things in his ear and shakes more with each pump OOH I NEED HOLY WATER 😭

he gives switch vibes with a sub lean for suuuuuuure 😮‍💨

cw: 18+ mdni, handjob, sub!art, set more in the college era, reader’s a switch too btw but art makes them feral, very loving tho, taking care of him after a tough practice, afab reader

“That’s it, just lie back on me. You must be feeling so sore.” You coo, caressing his biceps and getting into position on his bed.

You recline against the wall and open your legs. Art can’t hide the way his eyes light up as he eases onto the bed and swiftly turns around, resting his back against your chest with a soft sigh. You pick up on the groan he attempts to stifle in his palm, knowing how his muscles be absolutely aching right now.

It’s a big deal for you to show that you support him by showing up to his games and practices, so that’s what you doing earlier. You’ve always admired his determination when it comes to tennis, so you don’t mention that losing a college game isn’t the end of the world. Still, you won’t deprive yourself of the eye candy that comes in the form of your boyfriend sweating and grunting as he practices his drills.

Once it was over, he bounded over to you with a tired grin and jokingly pushed your face away when you tried to kiss him. “Angel, i’m all gross now.” He’d laugh, and you’d shut him up by licking some of the sweat of his cheek.

“Did I do good today?” He asks and looks up at you with his big eyes.

You’ll never not be grateful that he seeks out your approval like a dog with a bone, because you’ve never been so proud of someone in your entire life.

“You always do the best, babe.”

Art blushes and tilts his head back onto your shoulder. And for a cliché moment time stand still, the sunset outside casts an orange glow over the room and the two of you. Your boyfriend looks beautiful like this, eyes shut in exhaustion and nestled in your arms.

But you have other plans for the evening than just admiring your boyfriend, there will be plenty of that later during pillow talk.

Art cracks his eyes to see your hands trail down his arms to end up at his crotch. He’s so relaxed that he doesn’t squirm as much as he usually does, but he turns his head to nuzzle your shoulder.

You soothingly murmur to him, “My boy worked so hard today, i think he deserves a reward, don’t you?”

“I want whatever you have to give me.” He genuinely smiles into your skin, shifting his hips to push up against you palming his bulge.

And it’s true, he’d throw his head back like a whore and moan unabashedly no matter if you were edging him with a vibrator of if you were gently grinding your fat ass against his dripping cock.

You teasingly squeeze his clothed bulge and then dip your fingers under the waistband of his white boxer briefs. Thank god for the fact that Art likes to strip down as he soon as he gets back to his room after practice.

“Lift your hips for me, baby boy.” You tell him with a nip to his earlobe.

He sighs again as he gives you the suitable free space to push his underwear down enough to free his cock. It’s so long and pretty, such a good size too. Flushed blush pink at the tip and veiny, your mouth waters but giving your boyfriend head is a reward for a different day.

Art whines when you get your hands on his bare cock, “You know ‘m sensitive, feels so good already.”

“But your tears are so pretty when you’re overstimulated.” You peck his temple and lean your head on top of his, curling your hand around the base of his dick and steadily beginning to pump him. “You should be happy to cum as much as you want, sweets.”

He whimpers and spreads his legs over yours. You hook your feet around his and keep them there.

Pearls of precum bead to the tip of his cock, making the slide easier. You grip him tighter and move your wrist in quick circles as you speed up your thrusting.

“Oh- F-fuck!” He keens, latching onto your hips and arching his back against you.

“Shh, if you can’t handle this how are you supposed to handle my pussy? It’s so much tighter than my hand, baby, you’ve felt how warm and wet it is.”

He cums embarraingly quick when he gets like this, all doped up on how you make him melt. It’s adorable and a huge ego boost, but he can only cum inside you so much before he’s out like a light.

Art gasps at the mention of his treat, and awkwardly twists his torso around to face you, “I can handle it, can i have it now? Please please please please.”

“I don’t know…” You hum, pretending to consider his begging.

You clasp your fingers around his leaking dick and thumb the tip, spreading the precum. You fuck his length with your fist and you’re going so fast, you’re making a ‘thwop! thwop! thwop!’ sound.

“I think I want you to cum just like this, love.”

Art keens as you furiously jack him off. You rile him up by whispering in his ear.

“Got me so hot watching you today. Seeing the sweat on your body when you pulled up your shirt to wipe your face, i wanted to ride you into the ground.”

Art gapes, trying to kick his legs out on reflex but your ankles over his keep him right where you want him. He screws his eyes shut tightly and moans in between his babbling.

“Unh- unh- ‘s so good, gonna cum, can i cum? Please say i can cum, ‘m gonna burst- FUCK!”

You don’t know who’s crying more, Art or his cock. He’s leaking so much that you had to concentrate or you’ll lose your grip.

You don’t let up until he’s heaving a strangled cry and shooting his hips up, spilling on and over your hand like a fountain. He gets so sloppy with it, fucking himself with your fist through the aftershocks.

“That’s it, such a big load for me. I bet you were aching holding all that in, baby.”

And he’s so gorgeous, mouth open wide and tugging on his hair in random intervals. You grab his face with your free head and rub your thumb over his cheek. You let him come down at his own pace, and when he focuses his pretty eyes back on you, you bring your sticky hand to his mouth.

Art cleans his own mess, maintaining eye contact with you. The fierce tomato red blush he’s sporting deepens. You wink at him and slurp up an equal amount of his cum, like a couple sharing a milkshake in an old fashion diner.

[looseyjuicy]

BEETLEJUICE BEETLEJUICE SPOILERS !!

“Isn’t this romantic? A private wedding with our closest friends and an entire orchestra to play us in.” The man next to you sighs dreamily, as if he hadn’t taken you and a whole church full of people hostage, “if that doesn’t say ‘dream wedding’, then I don’t know what will.”

“Are you insane?!”

“So kind of you to notice, sweetheart.”

He ignores any curses you throw his way as you both make your way towards the front, arms laced together in a mock loving gesture.

this was.. such a bizarre twist of events.

for almost two years, you’d been Lydia Deetz’s personal assistant. Grabbing her coffee, running her feedback to anyone who needed it, just doing whatever it was she needed done for her.

she was nice, if not a little spaced out at times. as far as employers go, she’d have to be one of your best ones.

which is why you felt a little obligated when she asked you a pretty big favor.

you had to drive out with your bosses to help deal a couple issues that arose when the show was briefly paused due to the passing of Lydia’s father.

once you arrived at her old home, you kept things organized for the wake to take some of the load off of her.

later on, by order of Rory, you were put in charge of handling all necessities required for his wedding before he even officially proposed.

gross.

taking it as an opportunity to avoid the family matters that plagued the Deetzs as much as possible, you kept your head down and typed away at your laptop.

you will admit that the change of scenery was refreshing. Instead of a city filled with noisy cars, you’d been brought into a nice, quiet town.

well, at least it was quiet before some weird stuff started.

first, it was the occasional static on your laptop, which you’d shrugged off as poor connection.

then, bugs had seemed to have it out for you as they found their ways into whatever clothes you’d packed for the trip.

“this is an old house. It’s not uncommon for bugs to find their way inside.” you tried to justify as spiders crawled all over your former favorite bra.

although you’d genuinely thought you were going crazy when some weird flyer kept popping up wherever you went. At the dining table, inside your shoe(?), in the bathroom.

not wanting to cause any potential trouble, you just kept everything to yourself and tried to ignore it for the time being.

(it was hard to ignore the one that somehow ended up in the back pocket of the very jeans you had been wearing all day)

all of which is forgotten as a series of bizarre events had completely derailed the rest of the evening.

as you’re rushed around town by both of your employers, you eventually find your way into the church for the wedding.

that is, until the ceremony was rudely interrupted by someone that had come to claim what was due.

now, you’re dressed in some poofy, 80’s wedding dress that’s practically impossible to walk in about to be wed to a demon. The very one who somehow wormed his way into your short visit.

Lydia looks on in shock from behind one of the pews, her daughter and stepmother sharing the same mortified expression as you’re yanked down the aisle.

“I can’t believe the day’s finally here! Are you ready for the rest of our lives together, honey?” Beetlejuice gushes, strong-arming you into his side.

“No wa-“ is all you manage to get out before something zips! over your lips, smothering whatever objections you had.

“Whoops, looks like someone’s gettin’ cold feet.”

He cackles as you try to remove the zipper that conveniently had no slider. You’re given one last slimy grin before he forces you to face forward, urging the priest to begin.

god, serves you right for being an assistant to a paranormal TV personality.

[vividxpages]

"mine"

Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!Reader

a/n: yeah..........I have nothing to say to my defense. This is me coping after that photoshoot drop. we've all seen it, you know what's up.

🌹

Your boyfriend had the prettiest moans you ever heard in your life. And god, how fun it was to make him sing.

Right now, you were seated very comfortably, your legs spread and wound tightly around Jacaery's waist as you sat on top of him. The lacy fabric of your bra pressed against his naked chest as you arched against him, gasping as the friction between your bodies hit just right.

The bathrobe he had emerged in from the steamy bathroom pooled around him and his dark hair was soft and silky between your fingers. Your heated breaths mingled ever so often and while he couldn't tear his eyes away from you, you could not decide where you wanted to look first.

It could've been a soft and adoring moment between you and him if you weren't currently chasing another high by getting off on his thigh, moaning shamelessly and unbothered as you allowed him to touch you - touch you everywhere but where he actually wanted to.

"Baby, please-" Jace whined against your throat, his hands trembling as they ran over your sides. His glassy eyes were fixed on your chest for a moment and the way your thighs quivered with the effort you needed to rub your drenched pussy against him, your wetness staining the perfect white briefs he wore. They had been expensive, but now you ruined them with relish, your previous orgasms and his leaking dick staning the fabric.

So far, you had made yourself come twice on Jace's muscular thigh while he had not finished once. You had not granted him the luxury so far and you were way too obsessed with seeing him like this for now, flushed and sweaty all over just for you as he stared at you with enchantment and unshed tears in his eyes.

"Please." He tried again, puppy-like, really, his breath hitching as you tugged at the hair in his nape, not stopping your efforts to come a third, powerful time. "Please, love, let me touch you, let me touch myself, let me do anything-"

You smiled sweetly at him, briefly kissing his pouty mouth before leaning back in his lap, out of reach. At the gentle shake of your head, Jace released a frustrated groan, close to a cute little sob.

"Uh-uh, just a little more, baby boy." You whispered, kissing him again with raw hunger this time, a siren feeding on the love of her captive. As you bit down on his bottom lip, a hiss ecaped his kiss-bruised lips and his hips bucked up into you on their own. "I know you can last a little longer, Jace. You've been teasing me earlier, let me have a little fun here, hm?"

"'havent teased you..." Jace murmured defensively and you cocked an eyebrow at him, grinning knowingly. "H-how?"

"You think I didn't notice?" You whispered and dragged your nails over his smooth chest, delighted at the way his robe kept slipping down his shoulders, exposing his bony shoulders for kisses and bites you loved to give him. "You've walked past me all innocently earlier, just in your briefs about...four times, was it? Were you trying to get your girlfriend's attention? You just could've asked, baby."

Jace whimpered, throwing his head back as your fingers drifted underneath the waistband of his underwear. You could feel the heat of his throbbing dick, neglected and overstimulated at once by your mission to tease the hell out of him.

Just a little more and you'd have him right where you wanted, eager to lay the world and himself at your feet. You knew he would let you do whatever you wanted in this particular state, no matter what you desired, he'd give it to you.

Maybe you'd let him eat you out while you picked out some of the expensive jewelry he got you for the night? Maybe you'd make him change into a new pair of briefs and let him finally jerk himself off while you watched, feasting on the fresh fruit the hotel had brought you? Maybe you'd cut the bullshit and ride him until he didn't remember his own family name anymore?

The ideas were blooming in your hazy mind as you smiled down on the boy beneath you. You two still had a few hours until the big black-tie dinner party with his whole family and you had a lot of patience, knowing it wouldn't be long until the love of your life would start begging.

[formulawolff]

“you taste sweeter” — m.v.

pairing -> social worker!reader x max verstappen

word count -> 3.3k (oopsies!)

warnings -> cussing, slight angst, mentions of hate comments online, desperate + needy max, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, sweet moments, slight praise kink, tender max, yadayadayada

a/n -> the win in brazil today inspired me to write. it’s probably not my best work buttttt someone asked for a part ii to this fic here. i hope you guys enjoy! <3

"i'm sorry that this weekend has been a shit show."

lips press against your knuckles, carefully caressing them one by one.

"stop it," your hand darts out, cupping his cheek, "you're always so hard on yourself."

a chuckle rumbles in his chest, and you catch the hint of stars in his gaze as your eyes meet.

"i think i deserve to be a little harsh on myself. p17 is ridiculous."

you exhale, shaking your head slightly, "but you have to remember that was not your fault. you cannot control the weather, and you sure as hell cannot control what happens when the track is slick."

"i just feel terrible," he shrugs, folding his arms against his chest, "you flew all the way out here to just get drenched. you had to wake up with me at god knows what time to make it to the track. i'm supposed to be up in the fucking front and now i don't even feel like i have a chan-"

"stop it," your jaw clenches, "i wouldn't have flown out if i didn't want to be here. i wanted to be here and support you, max. there is nowhere else i would rather be than by your side."

the corners of his lips twitch into a meek smile, the dutch driver leaning in, "you're so fucking cute when you're all riled up."

"only because i hate to see you be so hard on yourself!" you protest, throwing your hands up in the air, "you are a generational talent. i wish you could see that."

"thank you baby," you can't help but notice that he's beaming now, "thank you, for being here."

"like i said," you murmur, your heart skipping a beat as you find the space between the two of you dissipating by the second, "there is nowhere else i would-"

"maxxxx! it's time for -- oh my god i am so sorry."

gianpiero's voice cuts through the space, the two of you shrinking back as he stands in the doorway the driver's room, a hand over his mouth.

"don't worry about it," max clears his throat, shooting you one more look before turning to gianpiero, "is it time?"

"it's time," max's race engineer confirms, checking his watch, "we need to get moving."

"all right," max sucks in a breath, rising to his feet, "i guess it's time."

you mirror his action, ensuring that you have your race day bag before shifting toward him. his arms wrap around your frame, bringing you in for a tight embrace.

for a moment, he's still, not moving a muscle as you bury your head into his chest. his fingers knead into your shoulder blades, strands of hushed dutch filling your ear. the words are tender, almost as if he was promising you something.

you weren't quite sure what, though.

"good luck out there tiger," you whisper, "i believe in you."

his arms pull away, the driver's lower lip trembling ever so slightly as he begins to follow gianpiero. before leaving the room, he ensures that gianpiero's back is turned, nearly bounding back toward you.

lips crash into yours, a hurried but passionate kiss. forceful enough to leave your knees buckling, yet laced with a sweetness that you couldn't quite place your finger on.

"i love you."

heat flourishes into your cheeks as he departs, looking back over his shoulder one more time before jogging down the hall, in efforts to catch up with gianpiero.

your heart flutters, a coziness seeping into your chest as you catch your breath.

max was never one to let his emotions get in the way of race day. he was always so poised, so focused on what was ahead. he was never privy to publicly showcasing his affection to you either. especially on sundays.

it never bothered you, really. you knew the stakes involved. you knew how important this was to him. you were well aware of the way people spoke about him online and in the media. lately, it had been nothing but negative energy. not only from the press and commentary, but from the fans as well.

you never overstepped. you never teetered over the boundaries he set in place for race weekends. you always ensured to keep your affection away from the public eye.

so, to witness that desperation to kiss you one last time. to hear those three words before he left. to feel him against pressed against you, reluctant to let go.

to you, that was everything.

and as voices buzzed in the air, the tension nearly electric as members of the crew paced around the garage as the rain pounded against the tarmac, max verstappen could only think about one thing.

and that one thing, was you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

droplets of water scatter about, the team rushing toward the car as a shiver runs down your spine.

max slips out of the car, nearly tumbling as he makes his way to the ground. your limbs itch, from your fingers to your toes, nearly screaming to take a step forward.

to make your way toward him.

he's drenched, the color of his suit a few shades darker as he claws his helmet and balaclava off, running a hand through his hair. his eyes scan through the garage briefly, picking through the throng.

his brow is furrowed, lips wound tight together with concentration.

you know he's looking for you.

yet, you don't move.

there was too much to risk if you approached him. in the aftermath of colapinto's crash, a red flag was issued on the track. with max's current position behind ocon and the ability to change tyres, there was a new opportunity presented before him.

the opportunity to overtake ocon from p2 to p1, therefore maintaining the lead and potentially winning the grand prix.

however, there were other factors present.

with a fresh start, the other drivers were presented with the same opportunity. lando norris in the rocketship of the mclaren would also be able to overtake as well, potentially threatening max's chance of a win. and with the current conditions of the track, who knew what would happen in the final thirty laps.

there was so much to consider. so much to speculate. so much to lose.

and because of that, you knew you couldn't interfere.

you couldn't do that to him.

to max, winning meant everything.

and to risk throwing him off over a simple hello or you're doing great? you couldn't bear the weight of knowing you had something to do that. you couldn't be the reason he lost momentum.

so, you stayed put, now blending in with the crew as they returned back into the garage, max sailing off down the pit lane, back in the direction of the track.

yet, as the dutch driver clutches the wheel, his heart thumping against his chest, he could only focus on one thing.

that bright, beautiful smile plastered across your face the moment you saw his car rolling up toward the pit.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

"come here!"

he practically barrels into you, sweeping you into his arms. tears stream down your cheeks, cries of joy bubbling up in your throat as he squeezes you.

"i-i love you," he sputters, "fuck i love you."

your head tilts back, lower lip quivering as you take him in.

his eyes are tinged pink, glossy as your fingertips trace along his jaw. there's a swarm coming any minute now, ready to hoist him up on their shoulders, jeering his name. in the grandstands, there's the dull roar of the crowd, chanting along with the crew. his suit is soaked through, leaving a wet imprint all over your clothes.

yet, there is nothing else that matters but him.

"i love you m-more, maxie," you sniffle, wiping away a tear, "y-you have no idea how fucking proud of you i am."

his mouth collides with yours, a heated, heavy kiss as the rain patters. your hand wraps around the base of his neck, tangling into his hair as his mouth opens, deepening the kiss. his tongue slides along your lip, seeking entry.

you're about to let him in before he breaks away, nearly panting. a crimson hue paints his cheeks, his chest heaving.

"fuck."

"what?" you press, your brow arching.

"nothing," he shakes his head, nearly bewildered as he studies you, "you just look beautiful. so fucking beautiful right now in the rain."

your own clothes are beginning to cling to your body, damp from the stormy morning. your makeup is still intact, but smudged slightly from the kiss and the humid atmosphere. he can sense your exhaustion, but your eyes are wide, nothing but adoration swimming in their depths. drops cling to your hair, glittering as you cock your head.

"you just won a race and you're worried about how beautiful i look?"

to max, there was no other word to describe you in this moment but ethereal. a stunning ray of golden, pure light as the clouds hung low in the sky.

not just any light.

his light.

at your sentiment, his gaze hardens, the dutch driver's jaw clenching as the pad of his thumb grazes your cheek.

"y-you have no fucking idea what you do to-"

"max!" a voice cuts in, nearly grating through all the noise, "what a hell of a race that was!"

you bite down on your tongue as christian horner comes into view, along with numerous members of the crew. max's eyes dart to you, but he's swiftly whisked away, the sensation of his warm hands merely a phantom.

however, your mind can't help but replay the kiss. the way his hands roamed, desperate to bring you in closer than you imagined possible. the adrenaline coursing through your veins, the two of you floating from the euphoria. the way you swore you could see stars gleaming in his stare as you cried, overwhelmed with pride.

pride for your man.

the man who managed to go from p17 to p1 in a single race. the man who made a statement.

the man who managed to pull off the impossible.

and he was yours.

all yours.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

"you have no idea how much i've been looking forward to this."

sweats cling to his hips as he is snuggled against you, arms wrapped around your waist. his head rests on your chest, lashes fluttering as you run a hand through his hair. you're almost underneath him, his body nearly squishing you. but you don't mind, as you were savoring the minutes.

the final hours together before you would inevitably have to part ways, saying those goodbyes at the airport.

oh, how you dreaded that moment. more than anything.

you would have to return to work, and he would be halfway across the world, enjoying a brief break before the final few races.

at least you would have vegas together.

but that felt so fucking far away, especially with the race scheduled at the end of the month.

"what are you thinking about up there?"

max's voice is merely a whisper, catching you off guard. you flinch, his head lifting, swiveling so that you're forced to meet his concerned stare.

"nothing," you shrug, "nothing important."

"hmm," he hums, leaning in for a peck, "that's a lie. you're always thinking about something. important or not, i want to know what it is."

"i'm just thinking about tomorrow," you lower your head, careful to avoid eye contact, "i just had such a perfect weekend and-"

"it's not over yet," fingers grasp your chin, "we still have the night together."

"but we have to get up early and make sure i'm at the airport on time and-"

lips connect with yours, his body shifting so that he's on top, practically pinning you to the plush mattress. a whine rises in your throat at the fierceness of the kisses, the way they send a fiery sensation burning throughout as his tongue explores your mouth.

his mouth pulls away, drifting to your jaw. instinctively, your hips buck forward, brushing against his as places sloppy, wet kisses along your neck.

"don't worry about the morning," his mouth hovers by your ear, "just focus on me, okay?"

you nod, "o-okay."

"is this okay?" his brow furrows momentarily, "i don't want to make you feel-"

you lower a hand, fingertips brushing along the waistband of his sweats, "this is okay. i promise."

at your action, max's breath quickens, the driver finding it difficult to string the words together, "i-i just can't help myself around you. seeing you after my win today, looking so fucking beautiful in the rain. i couldn't fucking control myself."

"that kiss was very unlike you," a giggle rings through the space, "i almost thought i was dreaming."

"you weren't," the corners of his lips curl into a wide smile, dimples and all, "i was right there, kissing you, wishing i could just get down on one knee right then and there."

"m-max," you stammer, the temperature of the room almost skyrocketing, "y-you don't-"

"i do," his voice is firm, "i want to marry you. i knew i needed you, but seeing you there, just waiting for me, with that gorgeous grin across your face.. it made me realize that i wanted to see that smile for the rest of my life. we don't have to rush, but i want you to know what my intentions are.

i want you to be my wife, but i don't want you to feel like you have to abandon everything to be with me. i want you to still do what you love, and i want you to still make a difference in people's lives. just how you've made a difference in mine."

"i love you," your vision is blurred, your throat tight, "i-i love you so much m-max."

"my sensitive girl," he lets out a chuckle, carefully wiping away your tears, "i love my sensitive girl. more than she'll ever know."

"i'll be your wife one day."

"one day?" he cocks his head, "is that a yes?"

"yes," you affirm, "that is a yes."

"now this has truly been a day to remember."

"is that so?"

"yes," max responds. taking your hands, he raises them slightly, so that they're on either side of your head. intertwining your fingers together he continues, leaning in once more.

"i'm going to hold on to this memory for the rest of my life. i'm going to hold on to you for the rest of my life."

"there's nowhere else i would rather be," you whisper, "i mean that."

"oh i know," his mouth ghosts over yours, "you were so fucking ecstatic earlier. it was adorable."

"i was just happy for you," your lips form a pout, "you have to remember it's been a long time since i-"

he kisses you, this time a little more hungry than the last. as his tongue slips in, between your thighs, you feel your clit throb, desperate for his touch as he deepens the kiss, squeezing your hands. his hips grind against yours, sending a shiver down your spine.

"m-max," you nearly moan, "please."

"what?" he coos, "what is it baby?"

"i need you," the words are breathy, "i really need you."

"don't worry baby," a hand begins to drift lower and lower, savoring your heated skin along your stomach and abdomen, "i'll make sure you're taken care of."

"p-please," your head rolls back as his thumb meets your clit, dragging in slow, circular motions.

for a second, he's thrown off his game, completely and utterly bewildered at the stickiness coating his index finger as he plunges a finger deep inside.

"y-you're this wet for me? i've barely fucking touched you."

"like you said earlier," you grit your teeth, fighting a whimper as another finger slides in, your walls adjusting, "you have no idea what you do to me."

at that statement, max's jaw tightens, the lust that was merely a few flames now burning throughout, threatening to consume him whole.

fuck, was he going to ruin you.

his fingers pull out, hooking the hem of your own sweats, "i need this off of you. now."

sitting up, you kick off your pants, fumbling with your tank top in the process. your nipples are almost swollen, hardened from the brisk air. between your thighs, he can catch the glisten of your slick cunt, aching for him and only him.

in that moment, max nearly comes undone.

"let me taste you," the words are nearly a beg, "please baby, let me get a taste."

you nod, almost a little too enthusiastically, "please do."

he situates himself so that he's between your legs, his hands roaming your soft skin, spreading you open. he lowers his head, hands cupping your breasts as his tongue flattens against your weeping cunt. the tip of his nose brushes against your clit, earning a groan from you.

at that, a guttural noise rumbles in his throat, his fingers now gripping your hips, pulling you closer and closer.

there was no word that could describe the way you tasted.

the only thing that came close was heaven.

sweet, sweet, heaven that coated his tongue.

your back arches as obscene, filthy noises flood the room, hands in max's hair, tugging at the locks as his mouth envelops your clit, sucking lightly.

"that's it pretty girl," the words are ragged as you squirm, his lips shining in the dim light, "that's it."

"m-max," there's a feeling pooling in your abdomen, a feeling you knew all too well, "p-please."

"what?" his mouth curls into a smug smirk, "what is it pretty girl? you wanna cum?"

"yes. please."

"well since you asked so nicely," you're wound up tight now, merely seconds away from release, "i'll make you cum."

his mouth reconnects with your clit, applying the right amount of pressure as it dances. you writhe beneath him, stars bursting in your vision as you cum, bliss crashing over you like a tidal wave.

he pulls back, his cock twitching in his sweats, begging to be set free as he admires the way your chest heaves, your thighs almost trembling, overstimulated from the orgasm.

he wants to go back for seconds, lapping away until you're crying, pleading, begging for him to stop. if only you didn't have your early flight in the morning, then he would eat your pussy for hours, going all throughout the night.

"good girl," sliding off his sweats, his jaw nearly goes slack as your hand wraps around the base, pumping slowly, "good fucking girl."

as you jerk him off, two dingers dip inside, ensuring that their soaked before pulling out.

"here," he murmurs, pushing the digits against your lips, prompting you to open your mouth, "taste yourself."

as you take them in, tongue swirling along their length, the sweetness lacing your tongue, a groan tumble from his mouth.

"oh fuck."

"you like?" batting your lashes, you can't help but feel a grin form as he nods fervently, one hand gripping the heard board while the other rests on his shaft.

"victory tastes sweet, but fuck you taste sweeter. there's nothing like the way you taste and i'm addicted."

"is that such a bad thing?"

you nearly choke on a gasp as he pushes into you, stretching you out as his hips roll. he bites on his lower lip, fighting a smirk as your head hits the pillow, eyes squeezing shut as pleasure fills you to the brim.

"not at all," he's plowing into you now, "it's not a bad thing at all."

addicted was not even the word that described the way max craved you.

it was a hunger.

a hunger that would only be satisfied by your perfect, tight cunt.

and god, was max was going to savor the way you felt. the way you wrapped around him, practically begging him to go even further and further.

if only he could stay here, entwined with you. if only he could feel like this, forever.

however, vegas was quickly approaching.

and after that, who knew what the future would bring.

but for now, he was going to relish this moment.

tonight, and perhaps for the rest of his life.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

hear me out what about a fratboy jaehyun one shot where reader asks him to do slim pickins by sabrina carpenter tiktok challenge

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTYDKbWBx/

⋆⭒˚.⋆ a boy who's jacked and kind ⋆⭒˚.⋆

(cw: f!reader, profanity, TikTok trend)

You were extremely entranced by each TikTok you scrolled past. Fratboy!Jaehyun was eyeing you with fascination, what about Sabrina Carpenter singing about a kind man was so upsetting to you? The same line over and over again, "a boy who's jacked and kind." Were you staring at jacked guys and wishing he was more jacked? Was it some kind of gross trend that you got distracted watching? Who would do something so gross to a Sabrina Carpenter song?

"What are you watching, sweetheart?" Jaehyun asked.

Immediately, you set your phone down with a poorly concealed, sneaky smile, "would you... consider yourself strong?"

Jaehyun lets out a choked chuckle, "I think I am, yeah. I don't spend 4 days a week in the gym and meal prep for nothing." He studies your face for a second, noting that you look serious, "do you- do you not think I'm strong? Sweetheart, you told me you loved my abs and you always feel my arms up! You've literally licked up my abs and left hickies on my arms! Do you know how long I had to wear hoodies in the dead of summer to hide those?!"

You throw your head back onto his pillows while giggling, once again reaching for your phone before the screen is facing him. "Do you think you could do this?" you ask.

Jaehyun squints his eyes, watching the screen as the boyfriend picks up his girlfriend and lifts her onto his shoulder while flexing. It's a simple shoulder press, extremely simple. Jaehyun isn't even afraid to admit that he's really proud of his back muscles - especially his shoulders and traps. Fuck yeah, he could do this.

"So what, are we doing this now?" Jaehyun asks simply.

Your eyes widen and your brows raise with very poorly concealed surprise (could you try a little harder?) (for his pride?), "you can do this? Like, actually?"

"Don't wound me, sweets. Of course I can. Get up," Jaehyun instructs, standing from his bed and setting your phone up on his dresser. He already knows how to go about setting up the TikTok after the many, many TikToks you've made him do with you. The sound is ready, countdown set as you stand beside him.

The numbers on the screen start to countdown from ten as you tell Jaehyun, "maybe we should practice."

"Just stand there and look pretty, sweets. I got this," Jaehyun mumbles just as the audio begins going off.

Before you know it, his hands are on your hips. As he squats, you bend your knees, jumping to help him out. The next thing you know, you're up in the air. You're too amazed and laughing with shock to even begin to mouth along to the lyrics.

Jaehyun watched you through the screen with a loving smile as he flexes his other arm. The audio ends and Jaehyun slowly lets you back down. When you feet hit the floor, you're immediately turning to Jaehyun and kissing him all over his face while he lets out a deep laugh.

"You're so cool! I can't believe you can do that! Oh my god! That was sexy, how do you feel about more hickies?" You ask breathlessly, his face still cupped in your hands.

Jaehyun smirks down a you, "I'll never say no to my girl marking me up."

[apricot-blossomss]

Okokokok hear me out right

The reader is friends with hermes (God or moral reader, your choice!) And they asked hermes to deliver a love letter for them! Days, even weeks go by and Hermes still hasn't delivered it. He doesn't want to, he doesn't want the reader to be directing their attention at anything but him. Maybe this love interest will get tired of waiting! Maybe he should just hold onto it forever. Maybe he should just read the letter himself and decide if this person is good enough for the reader?

And then he reads it and its says something like "hermes I knew you couldn't stop yourself from reading this, I love you, you bastard"

Just an idea <3

☛ hermes steals f!bff!mortal!reader's love letter

☛ sfw; cw: a little suggestive; I got covid so I have some time on my hands

When you asked him for a favor, Hermes couldn't have imagined a world in which he wouldn't fulfill it. Up until now. Staring down at the pink envelope in his hands, he felt his chest constrict with a feeling that could be perfectly encapsulated in the word 'shit'.

"Hermes?"

"Huh?" He looked up into your eyes and kept staring as you laughed about his dumbfounded expression. Your lovely laugh didn't make the situation any better for him, though it usually did. Now, it only added to the growing whirlwind in his stomach, clawing at his insides, screaming at him 'too late, you're too late, idiot'.

"Can you deliver this for me?" you repeated the question. "It's for someone very important to me."

Why not him? Why weren't you sending it to him? He was important to you, he had to be more important to you than whatever douche this letter was for. Hermes had to swallow down the urge to rip the stupid thing to shreds. But it looked like you had put a lot of care into the letter. It even smelled of sweet citrus, which really pissed him off, because the smell was so utterly you and he didn't want any other man associated with it.

"Yeah, sure," he said, forcing a smile onto his face. Gods, it hurt. The worst of it was the way your smile brightened, your eyes so kind and happy when you gleamed up at him. This wasn't right, you only smiled at him like that. Right?

Without turning the letter to look at the addressee, Hermes stuffed it into his bag that was already filled to the brim without much care. Maybe the bag could accidentally slip over the ocean and spill all the letters. Or he could throw it into Hestia's fire and pretend it was an accident. Or maybe he could deliver the letter but hide it somewhere the guy would never find it. Then he would have delivered the letter, technically.

Over pondering this conundrum, his attentive eyes missed the nervous twitching of your fingers and your excited little glances, as well as the way you practically shoved him outside the door with some rushed goodbyes to run into your bedroom and scream into your pillow.

Hermes stood in front of the closed door and had been standing there for a good minute, but he couldn't get his quick feet to move. On the other side of that door was you. You, with the gentle eyes, the dazzling smile and the understanding heart. You, who was his solace after a long day, his joy, his best friend. Right. His best friend he should not have these thoughts about.

Oh, but how dearly he wished to break down these doors, walk up to you and kiss you. How he dreamt of coming home to you, not just in his head and heart but also in reality. Like he already did, he would knock in your window and you'd let him in as if he were a stray pigeon, laughing at his jokes and winks and flirtatious comments. But in his fantasy, it didn't stop there. No, you would kiss him and tell him how much you missed him, he'd surprise you with a romantic picknick and spend the night with you and fall asleep in your warm arms.

Blinking, Hermes snapped out of his daydreams and cursed himself. He was a leecher, thinking about his damn pretty best friend like that. Sighing, he pulled his hat deeper into his face, obscuring his eyes, and set off for his job with flying feet. Knowing damn well he would not be able to concentrate on a single thing today.

🪽

Hermes had never messed up so many deliveries as in the last two weeks- and it wasn't even on purpose. Unlike his father suspected, ever since he had accidentally opened Aphrodite's sex toy delivery. The smacking down still made him wince, even a good five days later. And Hermes tried to concentrate , he really did, but it was hard when the damn letter, still safely stored in his bag, lay heavily on his mind. Stupid, flimsy little thing.

Hermes didn't want to deliver it. He didn't want anyone to get it, and though the guilt ate him up from the inside, he couldn't deny it: he wanted you all to himself. Selfishly, greedily, he didn't want you to give your attention to any man but him- at least not in that way. And, hey, maybe if he procrastinated it long enough, the guy would get tired of waiting and you would just forget him. Maybe he should just hold onto the letter forever.

"Hermes?" you poked his cheek and the god snapped out of his whirlwind of thoughts. Sitting on your couch, he realized you had stood up before him. Your concerned eyes hovered over him and he had to gulp down the urge to pull you down into his lap so he could study them more closely. "Are you okay? You kinda spaced out there for a second."

"I'm fine, baby," he smiled, glancing up at you sheepishly. "I'm not myself tonight." Your forgiving smile was too much for him as he let his upper body slump forward. His head, luckily hat-less as always around you, weighed against your upper body and when it vibrated with your little laugh, Hermes savored the comforting feeling. Choosing to tempt fate and test his luck, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you down into his lap, eliciting the most adorable squeak from you. He had to suppress the urge to bite you- you were just too cute.

Your friendship with Hermes had always been very affectionate. Lots of hugging, sitting halfway in each others laps, even sleeping next to each other sometimes, too which you would always wake up to an arm wrapped around your waist and a face in your neck. This open display of affection had you wonder first wether Hermes might see you as more than a friend, when his hand always dipped a little farther down, gripped a little tighter than necessary, when he buried his face in your neck and hugged you as if he never wanted to let go again.

Apart from the fact that having a literal god cling to you like a koala bear was a major ego boost, you really liked Hermes, in more ways than the platonic love you two shared. For weeks you had pondered how to do it and finally worked out a plan: you would give Hermes a love letter with a false address. If he delivered it, no one would read it, but if he liked you back and would try to read it...

"Where are we, like, in the plot?" Hermes muffled into your neck and you felt a light shiver run down your spine- you hoped he didn't notice, but you felt his signature grin form against your skin, and his hands departing from their grip on your hips with fingers like spiders up your sides. Squirming, you swatted them away and the god laughed, still holding you close.

"She slept with both of them and now she hates herself," you answered quickly to shut him up. Managing to get a hold of his hands, you pressed them down onto his lap with little resistance and squeezed them under your thighs to block their means of escape. A choking sound left Hermes' and the god coughed, slipping his hands away and placing you next to him on the couch.

Ouch.

What you didn't know was the war for self-control raging inside your best friend the minute you placed your thighs so deliciously and grabbable over his hands. When his daydreams had, up to now, consisted of confessing your love to each other and innocent kissing, he now felt the overwhelming urge to grab you by the thighs, flip you over on your little couch and have you scream out his name- and his name only. For that one, Hermes gave himself a mental beating and gave you a little smile to conceal his red cheeks- and the fact that you would get wind of his predicament if you only looked down into his lap.

"Sounds great!" Honestly, he didn't even remember your answer to his question, and his overly enthusiastic reaction had you giggling. And that was really all he needed to be happy. Why did he want more? Why was he so insatiable?

The movie was pretty boring, and you seemed to think so too, because your gaze wandered frequently and you caught his incessant staring multiple times. But neither of you turned it off, because really, it was fine. Sitting next to to each other, your head coming to rest on your shoulder at some point, his hand slipping into yours in a completely platonic way.

“Hermes?” you asked when the love interest on screen started to have an intense melodramatic meltdown (Hermes did feel seen).

“Hm?”

"Have you... delivered that letter yet?" You fidgeted with your fingers nervously, but Hermes' stomach dropped down to his feet at least. Shit.

"What letter?" Hermes could have punched himself in the face.

"The love letter I gave to you," you explained carefully. "It's just... I never got an answer so I thought maybe you lost it or..." Your voice droned off and you bit down on your lip nervously. Was Hermes purposefully avoiding the topic? Had he read the letter and now wanted to ignore it out of existence because he didn't feel the same way? You had been so sure there was more to it. At least he wasn't making fun of you, but it was still humiliating, thinking he had read those lines and-

"Ah, that one!" Hermes exclaimed and you flinched at his loud tone. A nervous chuckle left his lips. "Uh yeah, I'm so sorry, baby, I must have forgotten about that one, I forget things sometimes, lots of stuff to deliver and sometimes letters get left behind and..." His rambling droned off and he bit down on his lip like a child caught in a lie, looking up at you.

Your understanding smile nearly killed him. It would have, if it could have. Hermes felt like the biggest asshole when you sighed relieved. "Ah, good, I was a little worried." Fittingly, the lady on screen screamed loudly about how much she hated herself and Hermes pondered over how he could relate to every single one of these over-the-top characters.

🪽

"Good night," you smiled as Hermes exited the door and turned around to you. You were dressed all oversized and cuddly with those warm winter socks and looked just about irresistible. Especially with the way the stars reflected in your wide, slightly tired eyes.

Following a shy impulse, he didn't give you a hug, as usual, but pressed a kiss to your warm cheek. When he pulled away, he did feel satisfaction at the way your face had heated up visibly, even in the dim light. "G'night, baby," he grinned with new fervor and a dreadful feeling in his stomach.

When he turned to leave and pushed himself off the ground to fly up into the air, his decision was made. He would deliver the damn letter. No longer would he be in the way of your happiness. If this guy really was who you wanted...

But, Hermes pondered as the houses of your neighborhood shrunk down to little lights, like the sky but below him, and one of the stars was you. But he should make sure this person was good enough for you. And have an address in case they weren't.

Stopping mid-air, Hermes pulled out the dreaded pink envelope. Not recognizing the address, he decided to look for clues in the letter itself. If you were to ask him, the envelope just kind of ... slipped open and the letter just sort of slipped out of there. When he pulled it out, the familiar smell hit him. After two weeks in his bag, the envelope had lost your smell, but it still stuck to the letter it self. With slightly trembling hands, he unfolded the paper, surprised to find only a few lines written in your handwriting.

Hermes, I knew you wouldn't able to stop yourself from reading this. The address is fake, this letter is for you. I love you, you idiot.

Below that, you had given him three options to pick: () don't ever come near me again, () let's ignore this ever happened because you are the shrek to my donkey, () I love you too. Your messy handwriting on that part had him smile, because he could picture you writing the letter, becoming unsure of yourself and scribbling three options down.

Hermes didn't even bother ticking off option three. He had no time to waste. Within seconds, he was bolting down to earth with the speed of a meteor, the wind howling in his ears, the letter firmly in his hand. You were completely right. He was an idiot. But an idiot who was about to make all your time of waiting up to you.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

[ariascoven]

⟡ AFTER MIDNIGHT

PAIRING : eve fletcher x reader

CONTENT / WARNINGS : reader referred to as a girl. legal age gap. petnames (honey, baby, sweetheart & doll). public display of affection. public restroom. oral (eve receiving). fingering (reader receiving). little bit of praising. biting. mommy kink.

WORD COUNT : 3.1k

MY MASTERLIST

As soon as you step inside the bar, you immediately regret the entirety of your life choices. The smell of alcohol, the screaming, the music blaring — it was all too much for you. But you promised your friends from your literature class that you would come. With a deep regretful sigh, you make your way towards the bar, heels clicking against the floor rhythmically. “Hey, can I get a vodka, please?” You ask the bartender, the loudness forcing you to speak louder than you're used to and making you wince at the sound of your own voice. The guy nods, turning around to make your drink. You sigh once more, looking around and taking notice of the way everyone was having fun except you. You just hate going out. You look down at yourself, judging the outfit you picked for the night; a short, navy blue dress that was glued to your body, showcasing all of your curves — or the lack of, accompanied by a pair of black heels. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, you wrap your arms around yourself in an attempt to hide from others’ prying gazes, even though you're sure no one was looking your way. That is, until you notice her, Eve Fletcher, the middle aged woman with whom you share your class with. She smiles, looking as beautiful as ever. She's sitting on a round table with the other students and the teacher, her hand waving around in a silent request for you to join them. You take your drink from the barista, muttering your thanks before slowly making your way to the table, dragging your feet across the bar and wishing you could go back home.

“Hey, honey!” Eve greets warmly, standing up to give you a quick hug. You smile, rubbing her back affectionately and muttering a quiet ‘hi’. “Here, sit with us. Wow, you look amazing in that dress!” The sound of her voice seems to calm your nerves down as you sit on the chair right beside hers, subtly moving it to get even closer. You greet the others, nervousness washing over you — they've never seen you like this, only wearing oversized clothing to class and putting your hair up if you were lucky enough. You hug yourself, using the excuse that the air was getting cold. “Oh, baby, you didn't bring a jacket with you? Here, take mine, I'm not cold.” Eve’s voice takes a motherly tone as she throws her jacket over your shoulders and rubs your arms before pulling back and taking a sip from her own drink. She then notices the glass in your hand, nodding towards it. “Vodka?” You nod. “Tequila.” She says, swirling her cup around. The others talk and laugh together, but all you can do is focus on the couples dancing together on the dance floor.

You've been feeling terribly lonely lately, the realization that you've never had a relationship before hitting you like a truck. You're 20, for God’s sake! Of course you know that you're still young, but watching everyone around you experiencing love while you're sitting on the bench, just waiting for your turn… it gets tiring at a certain point. You let out a small sigh that feels like the 100th one that night, resting your cheek on your hand. Lost in your thoughts, you didn't even realize Curtis and Margo had left the table and joined the dance floor as well. Eve studies you intently, but before she can say anything, Julian snatches her to dance and you're left all alone, sadly sipping on your vodka. You smile, watching Eve dancing around happily. Julian is clearly flirting with her, does she know that? Maybe she does, maybe she's flirting back. You frown. Is she? The young man leans in to whisper something in her ear before disappearing in the crowd, probably going to the bathroom or to get a drink.

Then your heart takes a leap inside your chest when the older woman turns to look at you, eyes searching yours. She smiles, waving her hand and beckoning you closer. Awkwardly, you march through the crowded space. “Is something wrong, honey?” Her angelic voice fills your ears, giving you butterflies. You wave a dismissive hand, shaking your head. “Nah, nothing wrong. Just… you know. Life. Or, not-life.” Eve gives you an understanding smile, giggling. She steps closer to you, arms reaching out to wrap around your neck. Your tongue flicks out to wet your suddenly dry lips, hands instinctively gripping her waist. It felt like heaven, your bodies moving together in the rhythm of whatever song was playing in the crowded bar, whatever, you didn't recognize it. But Eve did. Her eyes are closed as she hums along, the dim lighting of the room making you wonder if she was actually real — you've met lots of beautiful women before, but Eve was just out of this world. A tentative hand reaches to touch her cheek, cupping it tenderly. Her eyes snap open in surprise at the touch, but she quickly melts and leans into it. Your last brain cells are arguing inside your head, one yelling at you to kiss her, the other yelling the exact opposite. But before you can make up your mind, she turns around, pressing her back against your chest. Your heart races at the sudden change, the hand previously on her cheek now awkwardly resting on her waist.

You quickly warm up to the position, your hands gripping her waist with more confidence, slowly sliding down to her hips. She seems to like that, head leaning back to rest on your shoulder while her hand moves to the back of your neck. Your cheeks brush against each other, your eyes closed as you sway together, hips moving together in a sensual dance. The scent of the older woman mixed with the intimacy of the moment is driving you mad with arousal. Your head dips down to nuzzle her neck, inhaling deeply before placing a tender kiss on the soft skin. She makes a noise that sounds a bit too much like a moan, a spark of hope igniting inside of you. You repeat the gesture, causing her head to tilt to the side, giving you further access. You grin against her, peppering the sensitive skin with kisses and small nips. Feeling emboldened by Eve’s quickening heartbeat, your tongue darts out to taste her. She groans lowly, her hand squeezing the back of your neck slightly. Nibbling on her earlobe, a sneaky hand slides up to grope her breast. She gasps, turning her head to look at you with wide eyes. “What are you doing?” She whispers with urgency, but doesn't make any effort to move away from you.

“Living a little. What are you doing?” You have no idea where that came from — the confidence. You're usually a really shy girl, in fact, you're barely able to talk to the middle aged woman during class, preferring to just sit back and admire her from afar. But as you feel her body pressing against yours, you wish you would've done it sooner. Her gaze sends a jolt straight to your throbbing core. She bites her lower lip and the sight is too much. You lean down, kissing her fiercely. She groans against your mouth, spinning around in your arms and pulling you closer, hands tangling in your hair. She bites your lower lip, the action eliciting a hiss from you. You break the kiss, both of you panting. “I always wanted to do that.” She confessed, her low voice turning your brain into mush.

Decidedly, you grab her hand and drag her to the female restroom in a hurry, as if the world is ending. Eve laughs and apologizes to the people you bump into, your mind too focused on getting to the destination to even realize. As you get inside, neither of you notice how filthy the place is as you hurriedly push Eve inside one of the stalls, locking the door and pushing her against it. She grins when you press your body against hers, a low chuckle escaping her lips. “Didn't know you were that bold, doll.” The endearment and the way she says it sends a shiver down your spine. Your lips move to silence her in a fiery kiss, your tongue slipping inside her mouth. Your leg finds its way between hers, pressing up against her. A smirk splatters across your face when you feel her hips grinding down against you, a needy whimper slipping past her red lipstick lips, now puffy from the intensity of your kisses.

You allow her to find her own pace, focusing on the sensitive skin of her neck as you lean down to lick and bite, your teeth grazing against her deliciously. You could stay like that for hours, the taste of her was like a drug, and you were addicted. Your hands knead the older woman’s breasts over her black dress, causing her to moan at the touch, eyes fluttering close while she throws her head back against the cold door. Her hips quicken their pace, grinding almost desperately. You feel your own pussy throbbing when she opens her eyes, looking at you with nothing but pure lust. “Get on your knees.” You could cum just from the demanding tone in her voice, sinking to your knees ridiculously fast and wincing at the bruise that will definitely appear. You have to push the thoughts of how disgusting that public bathroom floor is aside and focus on the woman staring down at you, a side grin that gives you goosebumps playing on her lips. Her hands grip the hem of her dress, hiking the fabric up around her hips. Your mouth waters at the sight, your own hands reaching to grip her thighs. You look up as if asking for permission and she nods, ruffling your hair affectionately.

Your eyes flutter and you lean closer, licking a thick stripe up the fabric of her damp underwear. The action elicits a deep groan from her, her hips bucking instinctively while she tugs at your hair, pulling harshly. A pathetic whine falls from your lips, trembling hands moving to slide her panties down her legs. She breathes out as the cold air hits her most intimate parts, rolling her hips against nothing. “Fuck.” She hisses when you finally touch her, licking her folds and kissing her clit gently, almost teaing. Your fingers leave red marks on her thighs, where you squeeze hard, kneading her flesh. She rides your face, body undulating as you explore every inch of her. You can feel the wetness dripping down your own thighs, face flushing at how embarrassingly needy you've gotten just from eating her out. Your tongue circles her clit slowly before taking it inside your mouth and sucking hard. You look up just in time to see her eyes rolling into the back of her head, hand moving to cover her own mouth and muffle the noises threatening to spill out. You fight the urge to pinch yourself, to make sure this is real life and not another wet dream. Eve seems to read your mind, pulling your head back to look up harshly, hurting your sensitive scalp. “Look at me while you eat my cunt.”

That's the best thing she could ever ask from you, you think. You feel small under her piercing and condescending gaze, eyes locked onto hers. You slow down, your tongue giving small kitten licks. You do it on purpose, knowing the older woman is growing impatient as she glares daggers down at you. Plunging your tongue inside her without a warning, you take her by surprise. And just like that, her resolve crumbles, eyes snapping shut and knees going weak as she holds herself up by gripping the walls. She lets out a loud, almost pornographic moan that only serves to make you wetter, your underwear clinging uncomfortably to your skin. You whimper around her, fucking her with your tongue as fast as you can, eyes never looking away from the blissful expression on her face. Her inner walls flutter and clench around you, encouraging you to move even faster. When her body starts trembling, you know she's close. You watch with lustful eyes as her moans become nothing but high pitched nonsense. Her words are slurred out, and the only thing you're able to make out is, “Keep going, baby, I'm so close.”

“Shit!” She cries out, cumming hard around your tongue. It makes you whine, your eyes rolling back at the sweetest taste you've ever felt in your mouth. You slow down your ministrations, but don't stop until Eve is panting and gasping, sweat covering her forehead and dripping down her face. “Jesus… fucking Christ.” She breathes out, looking down at you with a side smirk. You pull back, wiping the remains of her arousal off your face with the back of your hand and standing up, locking your lips together in a gentle kiss. She hums, arms wrapping around your neck lazily, the closeness between your bodies causing you to feel just how much she is shaking and her heart is racing. “Mmm, now we need to take care of you, don't you think, honey?” She speaks against your lips, raising a brow suggestively. You nod eagerly, squeezing her ass. She groans then chuckles, fixing her dress as you slide her panties back up. “Let's go to my place, doll.” She whispers against your ear, then nips your earlobe playfully.

Back at Eve’s house, your brain barely registers where you are when she pushes you down onto her bed, a yelp escaping from your lips. She crawls on top of you and buries her face in your neck, biting down harshly. “Please…” You cry out, body arching up against her, wide eyes pleading for her to take you. When her hands grip the hem of your dress, you expect her to hike it around your waist, but instead she pulls it over your head and gets rid of your underwear in the blink of an eye. Your brain stops working when she attaches her lips to your nipple while twisting the other between her long fingers, and you can't wait to have them inside of you. She looks up at you and the sinful sight drives you crazy with desire, barely able to form any coherent thoughts. You wanted this for so long, ever since she walked inside that small classroom looking like a goddess, but never did anything about it, being too shy and untrusting of your flirting skills — spoiler alert, you had none. After giving both of your breasts the exact same attention, leaving both of your peaks hardened under her touches, she kisses her way down your body.

All you can do is whine, knuckles turning white as your fingers grip the sheets as if your life depends on it. Her hands work to pull your legs apart, allowing her to bury her face between them. Your quiet whines turn into loud moans as she devours your pussy as if it's her last meal, groaning at the taste. Your hips buck upwards on their own accord, seeking her mouth. Wet noises and moans fill the otherwise quiet room and you thank God for the fact that Eve lives in a house and not in an apartment, that way you don't have to worry about neighbors hearing the noises of your pleasure. Even if you wanted to, you wouldn't be able to keep quiet; Eve’s tongue is too good. Without thinking, you mutter. “Mommy…” The word causes both of you to pause. Your body tenses, your eyes wide with pure horror. However, Eve grins wickedly. “What did you just call me, honey?” She purrs, her chin and nose drenched in your juices. When she notices you're too embarrassed to respond, she speaks up again. “Such a dirty girl, calling me mommy. I think I like that.” Relief washes over you at her words, moaning when her fingers slide down your slit and collecting your arousal. She sucks her own fingers, humming in approval. “All this for me. You've dreamed about this, haven't you?” She nagged, crawling up your body, her nose now brushing against yours. You nod in embarrassment, cheeks covered in a pink color.

Your mouth drops open in a silent moan when she cups your pussy, rubbing her palm against your clit lazily. “Wanna call me that again, sweetheart?” She coos, her voice honeyed. It makes you dizzy, all of it — the tone of her voice, the way she looks at you, her fingers caressing your soaked folds. “Mommy.” You utter quietly. She kisses you tenderly, finally slipping two digits inside your cunt and making you moan around her. Her fingers are easily welcomed into you due to how wet you are, curling to hit the spot that makes you see stars. “Mine.” She whispers in between wet, sloppy kisses. “My pretty girl, all mine.” Her voice takes a possessive tone as she pulls back to look down at you hungrily, biting her lower lip in the way that drives you insane. A third finger joins in, causing your eyes to roll back. She moves to your breasts, alternating between them as she licks your peaks.

One of your hands let go of the sheets to wipe your chin, realizing you're drooling from the intense pleasure. A chain of cuss words leave your lips as you feel your orgasm approaching, the familiar knot in your stomach as you ride her fingers. Your breath comes in small gasps and you bring a hand to your hair, brushing the wild strands of hair away from your sweaty forehead. Her name comes out of your mouth in a loud, long moan as your body convulses beneath her. She moans, feeling your pussy clench desperately around her speedy fingers, who keeps fucking you until you're begging for her to stop. You close your eyes, mind still spinning. “What just happened?” You mutter breathlessly, eliciting a giggle from the older woman. You're panting like you just ran a marathon and her hand is covered in your cum. She forces your mouth open by squeezing your cheeks with her clean hand, the sudden act causing your eyes to snap open. Then, she shoves her fingers into your mouth. You don't complain, looking into her eyes as you suck them clean, tasting yourself. When you're done, she gently removes her fingers from your mouth and cups your face, giving you a quick kiss. “You seem tired, baby. Go to sleep, mommy will take care of you, alright?” These are the last words you hear before drifting off to the best post-fuck sleep you've ever had.

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