#and and and his fingers are long and slim

[cutielando]

Hii!! I hope you're having a good day! I saw your request were open so I hope you still write for the hp boy

I wanted to ask for a one shot with Theodore Nott (or Mattheo riddle whichever you prefer) where they're enemies or rivals but they can't help but notice the reader is eating less (and developing an ed) for the reason you prefer and they help her

If you're not comfortable writing about it it's totally ok and you can use another reason for them to get closer

Or if you're not inspired you can just ignore the request:)

take care <3

a/n: i am SO sorry it took me so long, I had finished the fic and then completely forgot to post it :(((((

my masterlist

Mattheo had always kept his distance from people, ever since he was a young boy.

He didn't fuck with anybody over anything, didn't allow people to get close to him, kept his distance and protected himself. He didn't see the point of having many friends or having a girlfriend or anything even remotely close to that.

Besides, who would want to deal with Voldemort's son? Nobody.

Growing up with his father messed him up in more ways than he could count or admit. He was taught how to be cunning, how to hurt people, how to use them, everything that Voldemort had learned over the years had been passed down to his son.

But Matteo, despite the extensive time spent with his father, knew better than that. He might have grown up in a toxic environment, but he would never lash out on innocent people because of it. It wasn't fair.

During his school years, he had never noticed someone of the opposite sex. He had never felt anything for any girl that he had met at Hogwarts. He never had a crush, never hated anyone, he just felt... nothing.

Until you.

There was an undeniable tension between the two of you ever since you came to the school, one that neither of you could explain.

The only words you had spoken to each other were insults thrown in the halls, not ever having given each other a chance to actually exchange some words.

But that didn’t mean that Mattheo didn’t notice you. You didn’t know it, but he did.

He noticed the little things about you, the way you fidgeted with your fingers whenever you were around a large group of people. The way you chewed your bottom lip whenever you were nervous to talk to someone. The way you would avoid eye contact.

The way you weren’t eating.

He hadn’t thought much of it when he would see you with an empty plate in front of you, staring off into space and not even touching your meals. He figured it was just a one time thing.

But then, you wouldn’t even show up at breakfast or dinner. He wouldn’t even see you anywhere near food for days, then for weeks.

You were weak, pale, hidden behind your hair and large robe. You were a ghost of the person you had been when you first came to the school.

He didn’t know what to do at first. Should he approach you and say something? Maybe help you in some way?

Ignore you and your eating problem?

No, he couldn’t do that. The thought of letting you starve yourself was gnawing too harshly to his mind to let it go as simply as that. He had to say something.

And when he entered the grounds and saw you reading a book near the lake, he figured that was the best opportunity he was going to get.

He slowly approached you, wanting to scoff when he saw you look up at him and roll your eyes.

Typical of your relationship.

“If you’re here to make fun of me or something, I’m really not in the mood, Riddle” you said, burying your nose back in your book.

He was silent for a moment, taking in your appearance. You looked even worse from up close, the bags under your eyes even more prominent, your cheekbones prominently protruding through the skin.

You were so pale, so weak and slim and he couldn’t believe that he hadn’t thought to say something sooner.

“You need help” was all he said, which you took like a punch to the gut.

Your eyes stopped skimming over the words of your book, freezing up. It seemed like your ears had betrayed you, or did Mattheo Riddle just sound worried about you?

"Excuse me?" you put your book down and slowly got up, having to steady yourself after you became a little lightheaded.

The lack of food in your system was becoming more and more prominent on you, the loss of balance whenever you stood up and the lack of strength interfering with your daily tasks more than you would like to admit to yourself.

"You need to get some help" he repeated, his expression remaining the same. You actually couldn't believe the nerve he had, telling you this with so much lack of care.

"I don't think you're in a position to tell me what I do or don't need, Mattheo" you said and crossed your arms.

"Look, I know we hate each other for whatever reason. I don't care about any of that right now. You haven't been eating, you're pale and weak and barely hanging on to health by a thread. Just because we snap at each other in the halls doesn't mean I don't notice the little things you think you hide so well" he explained, mirroring your stance.

You sucked in a deep breath, feeling tears starting to build up in the corner of your eyes. If you were to be honest with yourself, you had forgotten why you and Mattheo hated each other in the first place. The moment you two had met and immediately clashed already wiped from your memory.

Because now, as he stood there in front of you saying he had noticed you, noticed you when nobody else bothered, made you feel seen.

You bit your lip, your gaze stuck to your shoes and the ground. You didn't know what came over you, but you needed to talk to someone, and in that moment, you didn't care if it was your archnemesis or someone else.

"I can't help it" you whispered so quietly, but Mattheo had heard you loud and clear.

His heart broke when he heard how quiet and small you seemed, how much you were actually suffering beneath the surface.

He stepped closer to you, putting his hands on your shoulders and almost grimacing when he felt the bones so prominent under his touch.

"Talk to me, let me help you" the moment you looked into his eyes, you were gone for.

The tears started pouring out of your eyes at a rapid pace, and you collapsed into Mattheo's hold, wrapping your arms around his waist.

Mattheo held you tightly against his body, careful not to squeeze you too tightly. This hadn't been the outcome he expected when he came over to you, but in that moment with you wrapped up in his arms, he knew it was the right one.

You didn't know how long you stood there with your face buried in the fabric of his shirt, his hands rubbing smoothing motions on your back. Mattheo didn't complain once, holding you so comfortably as thought he had been doing it all his life.

At one point, you finally slowly pulled away from his hold, cringing when you saw the wet patch you had left on his shirt.

"I'm sorry for that" you said while sniffling, pointing to his chest.

He looked down and didn't sketch a reaction, shrugging his shoulders and waving it off.

"It's nothing, don't worry about it. Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?" he cupped your cheek in his hand, wiping away a stray tear with the pad of his thumb.

You thought about it, deciding against it when you remembered you were outside where people could see you easily.

"Maybe later?" you whispered, and he nodded, giving you a sad smile before pecking your forehead.

He took your hand in his, intertwining your fingers as he slowly pulled you towards the castle with him, holding your book in his other hand.

And so, from the hatred that nestled between you two from the moment you met, a new feeling was born.

A feeling of love.

comments and re-blogs help us grow!

much appreciated!!

REQUEST HERE

[ybklix]

𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖋𝖚𝖑 𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖑

★ pairing: subneedy-slightly inexperienced!felix x horny fem!reader

✦summary: Temptation and lust take over Felix when he meets you; he is a young adult with an angel face who really is an angel, he is a naive and kind man who moves to a new neighborhood and has to change his usual church as it is part of his routine and hobby. You have an angel face with intense feelings and hidden thoughts worthy of the red bad man from hell himself, you can't wait to satiated your deepest desires with the new pretty boy you met at church. Making Felix sin, over and over again.

♡ warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, daddy kink, teasing, handjob, masturbation, oral sex, sex in the church (sorry), boobplay, multiple orgasms, fingering, faceriding, unprotected sex, creampie, praise kink, slight aftercare.

word count: 8.2k (i may need to learn how stfu)

MASTERLIST — TAGLIST FORMS

𓆩❤︎𓆪 warning: mention of religion and religious objects, without ofending anyone I hope.

;༊ playlist: only angel by harry styles ๋࣭ ⭑ gods & monsters by lana del rey ๋࣭ ⭑ god is a woman by ariana grande ๋࣭ ⭑ religion by lana del rey

dividers by fairytopea & anitalenia

❝𝐢 𝐦𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐡, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐧❞ ❦

Oh, sweet lord, you thought. You couldn't take your eyes off him, from the moment he stood in that sacred place to read the Sunday mass reading, you watched every detail like a predator guarding its prey. After so many years of accompanying your parents as a family tradition, the mass was finally getting interesting. Oh, amen, amen.

The man returned to his seat, right in the front seats so you could only see his long, dyed blond hair combed into a man bun from a distance and in detail. You were seated next to your parents in the middle of the seats, the ceremony continued, until it finally ended and… between a little yawn, you waited for the people to gradually leave, without losing sight of the blond boy; you noticed that he didn't leave either, usually your family stayed until the end since they were such a well known and respected family, your parents greeted and said goodbye to each of the people who attended the church that Sunday, from the usual people, to the new ones, so you waited for the boy to come closer, besides your father was the older brother of the priest of the church.

Finally, no one was left, just the few other families talking outside the church, and the blond boy talking to your uncle, until finally they both approached you, who were outside the church. You watched him closely from top to bottom looking at every detail of him, he was so cute, he had a beauty that caught you instantly, he was slim, delicate features, big lips and eyes, you noticed the delicate freckles spread under his eyes down his cheeks and nose, looking so innocent, he looked like a nerd, totally your type, he looked like at any moment he was going to correct you of your mistake with a 'actually', with his white diamond pattern vest, a short sleeved shirt underneath, his beige pants with a belt and his big glasses with a square shape, who the fuck in the 21st century dressed this conservative, he simple was cute.

“This is Felix, he just moved to the neighborhood, so now he comes to this church, he used to go to another church in another district, honestly I'm happy we can keep him” your uncle commented, amused and with a smile, introducing the blond boy who looked shy.

Felix, you repeated in your head, interesting name. He smiled shyly and sweetly.

“Nice to meet you, my pleasure, I'm really new to the neighborhood” he spoke, surprising everyone except your uncle, who already seemed to know him, with an incredible thick voice, not matching his angelic face.

Felix shook your parents's hands and then it was your turn, you took his soft, medium sized hand as you smiled at him, you didn't think your gaze was heavy, until you noticed Felix swallowed saliva nervously at the sight of you as he shook your hand, marking his notorious Adam's apple on his throat. You went back to watching him without missing any detail, from his few, slightly noticeable roots in his hair, to the delicious, delicate veins marked on his slender arms with soft hair. He wore a ring with crosses on his right index finger and another cross necklace. You couldn't help it, you had him in your sights, he was so cute you couldn't help but think of him in such dirty situations, maybe you were just ovulating, or you really wanted to fuck him.

Felix felt a little uncomfortable, your gaze was more than obvious and penetrating, but Felix didn't finish deciphering it, he didn't want to think that someone pretty would see him with such evil eyes.

“A pleasure Felix, we are the priest's family, this is our daughter, Y/N” your father spoke, "Welcome to the neighborhood.”

You smiled at Felix, now innocently but mischievously now that he knew your name.

“She's in college, I know she's young and baby-faced” your mother hastened to say, recognizing that Felix was a cute boy who looked close to your age.

You couldn't even turn to look at your mother moodily, your eyes were glued to Felix.

“Felix will give little catechesis to the children and Y/N, I think Felix can guide you to teach you the bible, so you can teach soon” advised your uncle and priest.

You blinked suddenly, perplexed that fate was in your favor.

“Of course, uncle, I'd love to” you replied, more than happy, without wiping off your smile and looking straight at Felix.

Felix wanted to sweat… he recognized that he liked you instantly, wearing your pretty floral sundress, exquisitely marking your silhouette and breasts, your very feminine appearance, your light make-up, hairstyle hair and sweet scent, you drove him crazy and… he rarely had female contact.

“Oh, of course she'll be there” added your mother, also happy that you could meet a nice and cute church boy.

“Oh, our dear Felix is a very good Samaritan, he just came back from volunteering, but his life duties called him” your uncle commented.

Cute, handsome and truly a good person, he just lacked some damn wings and halo for him to start flying, you thought.

“Oh, Felix, what are you doing on Friday? Let us welcome you to the neighborhood” spoke your father.

“I'd love to” Felix replied cheerfully.

“Friday at our place, we'll cook something delicious for you, I'll send you the address and Y/N… you'll see him on...” commented your father.

“Wednesday and Thursday” Felix quickly replied, which surprised you, “In the afternoon if you can, because of the university and thank you for the invitation, sir.”

“I'll be there” you replied to Felix, smiling at him, with such a dark look that only he could decipher.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Wednesday. Your horniness calmed down a little bit from monday to wednesday, you thought that maybe you were over exaggerating with Felix, that he really was a nice and cute guy, and that you should stop with the sudden dirty thoughts that crossed your mind. You walked into the small room, compared to the rest of the place, of the church where Felix would give you lessons on how to interpret bible verses and readings to train you to give lessons to the kids too, honestly, every year since you turned eighteen, your parents and uncle would insist you to support them with those little lessons to the kids so they can do their communion and confirmation but… you always ignored them and, it was until with Felix you were completely hooked and engaged.

You walked in quietly, apparently there was no one in the church and you didn't want to make noise and, you died of tenderness to find Felix on his knees, praying. He really was a bible eater, you thought, you didn't understand why you were suddenly so turned on by the fact that he was such a nice, good boy. You saw him in silence, apparently he didn't notice your presence, he was still concentrating, holding a rosary in his hands. Five minutes later, he finished, he crossed himself and opened his eyes and stood up, he saw you standing at a distance looking at him, which surprised him a little.

You smiled at his reaction, he was really concentrating on praying.

“Hi” you said to him, setting your bag down on one of the tables in the place, moving dangerously close to him.

Felix rubbed his hands, instantly sweating, on the denim of his jeans, nervous. The truth was… Felix liked you so much that he didn't know how to react, it was silly, but he was a bit naive to believe in love at first sight, he was convinced that what he felt with you at first sight was an inexplicable connection and the poor guy couldn't control his emotions and his little body excited at the mere sight of you. His heart was pounding and he was blushing slightly. Felix hadn't flirted with a woman in years, he was 24 years old and only dedicated himself to his job as a programmer and in his free time he adored with an incredible passion the church, but he got a wonderful job so he opted for a neighborhood closer to the place, so… girls and relationships was something that without realizing it, he started to displace from his life, until you arrived.

“Hello” nervously replied Felix in a low tone.

My god, you loved his voice. You adored him, you wanted to do all the cheesiness in the world in public and the dirtiest obscenity in private. Again, you were horny.

“I see you went ahead, you prayed without me” you told him slowly, trying to have a conversation.

You were definitely going to seduce him today. You just wanted to see his reaction and make sure if he also wants to play along and take it somewhere else.

“You w-want to pray?” he replied nervously.

You lifted your shoulders, with an impish grin, “Mmhum, why not” you got down on your knees in front of him without breaking eye contact.

You held onto his leg a little and were left in such a compromising position, right in front of his cock. Felix cleared his throat and took a step back instantly, so surprised by your action, you innocently closed your eyes, as if you had done nothing, raised your chin proudly and clasped your hands together.

Felix wasn't an idiot, but he chose to believe you did it without thinking, he believed so much in the goodness of people, it wouldn't fit in his head that someone so pretty, educated and family oriented suddenly behaved strangely, with double meaning. You pretended to pray, you were not concentrating, you asked god for forgiveness for just thinking of all the shapes and colors Felix's penis could be, while you were supposed to be praying. You stayed like that for a few minutes, not getting tired, you were young and your knees were strong. Felix saw you, with such a straight posture as you prayed, you wore a short white clingy skirt, so short he could almost see little fabric of your pink panties, Felix's heart pounded again… he hadn't analyzed you, you wore a tight top, marking your breasts and showing your navel… he watched you dumbfounded, as if he had never seen a woman before.

You felt his gaze, who would have thought that with his soft looks, he also had a penetrating gaze, you half opened one eye, managing to see blurred that he was licking his lips. You finished, stood up nimbly, almost forgetting to cross yourself from your fake prayer, wiped your bare knees and watched him cheerfully, almost waiting for a command from him.

“Aham” cleared his throat once more Felix, trying to avert his gaze from you, “You have… background knowledge of how to read the bible?”

You nodded, bored, it really wasn't the kind of relationship or lessons you wanted from him. You sat down on the bench, patting your side and inviting him to sit down. Felix picked up his heavy book and sat down next to you, nervous about your closeness. He saw your bare thighs, your skirt getting shorter… after all, Felix was a man entitled to feel, and his body was reacting on its own, he quickly placed the heavy bible on his lap, trying to hide his growing erection he felt so painful, he felt guilty and surprised, he knew he liked you… but seeing you suddenly show a little more skin, turned him on too much.

You noticed Felix, flushed, nervous and with his ears red.

“H-honestly I didn't prepare a class itself, I don't know what priest Kim was referring to, if you occupy any guidance let me know” he spoke, without looking you in the eyes, looking down at the floor.

You sought his gaze, but he was unwilling to look at you, you laughed in disbelief.

“I don't know what he meant either, I only said yes to spend time with you” you said, suddenly, exciting him more with your voice.

You slowly noticed the tension in the room, you were surprised how fast it was going to work with Felix, all you have done is dress in short clothes, you hadn't even made a proper innuendo to him and he looked like he was already struggling with himself, you thought it was amazing, when you really make a move on him he would explode, you thought, you had barely been there a little over 10 minutes and his pretty freckles were tinged with red under his cheeks.

Felix felt pity, shame, and so much guilt, but he could not control himself, his erection was growing more and more and his body was excited, he was not thinking clearly, suddenly lust was filling his body… he thought, what kind of magnetism you must have to put him like this and if, it really was a divine test not to fall into temptation, you were a very tempting and beautiful demon, that Felix would be willing to give himself completely if you continued.

He was so needy, he wasn't a virgin, he lost his virginity when he was eighteen with his first girlfriend, then he had another one at twenty… but the sex was so smooth, so simple and vanilla, but you, oh Felix thought how incredible you must be sexually. Everything about you said so, said you would know how to please him, your confidence, the sway of your hips and your subtle tone and suggestive looks. Felix was losing his mind.

“I want to know more about you” you opened your eyes excitedly, telling him, to which he finally looked into your eyes.

“What do you wanna know?” he asked, in agony, wishing his pain would end soon, his throbbing cock drowning in his tight jeans.

You went back to admiring Felix, he was again wearing his glasses and now had a half ponytail, leaving some of his long hair loose.

“I don't know… what do you do for a living, how old are you…?”

Felix wanted to let out a sigh, but didn't want to look too obvious.

“I'm a computer programmer” you looked at him attentively, waiting for a more concrete answer, “I repair them and install important programs to companies” he added, in a strangely deeper voice than usual.

You looked at him with admiration, he really was a little nerd trapped in an attractive body and face, you would not be surprised if he was a virgin…. or… you bit your lip at the thought that maybe behind his innocent appearance could be an insatiable monster. You also thought about how nimble he would be with his hands.

Felix was normal, a gen Z boy with a job, he grew up in a family environment where his parents always let him express himself widely with who he is and explore his persona, that's why he feels free to dye his hair but he chose the church as a hobby, he adored it with passion, he was religious and wasn't afraid to admit it… however just now he felt like the most vile and sinful being on the planet, he felt dirty, promiscuous and lustful, falling into temptation.

“And you…?” added Felix, standing up suddenly, turning his back to you, to move away. He could no longer stay close to you without his member aching.

Felix regretted it though, now he didn't know how to hide his erection, you instantly followed him, stood up and moved closer to him.

“I don't want to talk about me, I just want you to talk about you” you replied, seductively as you frowned.

You found his attitude strange, almost sweating, he turned his body, for the way his hands clung to the big book, glued to him, curious, you moved his arms, trying to push the book away, but his grip was strong, you looked him in the eyes quickly, in sign of what he was hiding, Felix felt trapped and with embarrassment, he let you take the bible from him, leaving it on the table next to him and surprising you by noticing that your new church instructor was aroused, reflecting with a bulge in his pants, hard.

You bit your lip, so surprised that you literally didn't lift a finger.

“Oh wow, you're seriously excited about preaching the word of the lord” you teased, watching as he increasingly pulled back and held from the desk, pinning his body to the wall, his pronounced Adam's apple quivering nervously, “You're seriously excited” you whispered, bringing your hand to his erection, stroking it.

“P-please don't” he requested, in a halting, excited sigh, “There's people outside. Stop.”

“Actually we're alone, it's the priest's nap time and the night watchman doesn't arrive until eight, the janitor doesn't work on Wednesdays” you told him again teasingly, with a smug smile.

Felix gasped, as he felt your hand squeeze his bulge, you moved up to his chin, watching in detail his thick lips half open.

“Stop” he whimpered.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me to really stop and I will” you commanded, searching his gaze but he never dared to look at you.

Your smile widened, as did the swelling of Felix's cock, he felt so needy and you were incredibly attractive as to be true, it was obvious that deep down, you awakened his sexual appetite that he thought he had put on pause, or at least know how to control.

“Do you like it when I touch you?” you said again teasingly, but excitedly, your panties were starting to get soaked and sticky, you would do anything to feel his heart shaped lips brush against your pussy just now while pulling on his long soft hair.

Felix didn't respond, he just let out a held back moan, all his muscles were tense, all of him was tense, he needed to relax, and you noticed it.

“Why are you like this, Felix? I just want to make you feel good” you told him almost in pleading, with a slight pout and with sparkling eyes, Felix saw your eyes again, finding your pretty and angelic look so demanding and hot, “You can de-stress with me, come on” you smiled mischievously.

And the next thing you did was to remove your top and bra in one swift movement, leaving your young, round breasts in full view and at Felix's mercy. Felix looked at you in fright, and then at your garments which you set aside on the desk.

“No, no, no, no, put that back on” he said nervously in a low voice, reaching for your clothes with his hands.

You quickly caught his hand, then the other, leading them both to touch your breasts, Felix didn't remove himself, he was carried away by the sensation of your hard nipple brushing his palm, he bit his lips, incredibly aroused, able to cum just by touching your tits.

“Just touch me and de-stress a little, aren't they soft?” you gasped.

Very soft, Felix thought, grabbing them with more confidence and squeezing them, massaging them delicately enjoying every second, he had never felt boobs like that, he never thought they would turn him on so much either… his former sexual relations consisted of sizzling kisses, him caressing his penis and then entering his ex-girlfriend's vagina, Felix did not know the slow, wicked and delicious art of foreplay. You gasped as you felt him enjoy your tits and took your hands off him, down to his pants.

“May I?” you asked innocently playing with the button of his pants.

“Yes, please” Felix gasped, needy.

At this point temptation got the best of him, he hadn't even fucked you yet and he was already empathizing with Adam and Eve for tasting the forbidden fruit, it just felt so fucking good, his body was shaking, his cock was pumping and the adrenaline had him on edge.

You smiled, so prettily that Felix wanted to melt, you looked so pretty with your cheeks flushed, your lipgloss and eyelashes curled and a look so dark and evil. Felix thought you were definitely an angel, one cast out of heaven for misbehaving, banished to earth, ready to torture men.

You bit your lip and quickly pulled down his pants, seeing his hard cock between his boxers, you sighed in surprise, so what you had expected… you stroked him over the fabric, taking in from his balls to his entire length trapped in his boxers and, with such a hungry look, you pulled down his underwear, freeing his stiff cock, as cute and needy as he was. You sighed, it was better than you could have imagined, it wasn't small, let alone monstrously huge, it was perfect for filling your pussy to the bottom and moving it without pain. Its pink, sensitive tip was already covered in its glistening precum and the rest of its length was a more slightly tan color, covered in veins. You needed it inside you, now. You took him between your hands, his cock throbbed just like your wet pussy, you would love to get down on your knees and suck him off, but you knew Felix would get so carried away he would lose awareness of his surroundings and you needed to be alert, after all you were in a church where you were supposed to study the bible, anyone could walk in.

And you watched Felix so needy with his red sex and hands squeezing your breast, just this time, you would make him cum in your hand, just because he was a pretty boy and you wanted his nice shiny cum in you, making a mess.

You couldn't help but let out a slight teasing giggle, honestly it wasn't the kind of thing you did, you rarely had sex with college guys because you were very selective with who you let yourself go and satisfy yourself sexually, it wasn't like you went around wanting to suck the cock of any cute guy you could find like you did with Felix either, there was something about him that held you captive.

Felix felt your giggle in every part of his being, the vein in his neck began to exalt and his grip on your breasts became tighter as he felt your hand gently play with his foreskin and then run it up and down his length. Felix moaned, his voice thick, so loud it terrified him that anyone could have heard him.

Your gaze focused on his cock and then you looked into his eyes as you found your pace, pulling on it, stroking it up and down, giving attention to his testicles, teasing his glans with his slippery precum, moving it at your mercy as if it were a toy and a rigid joystick as you watched him with a haughty grin. Felix was struggling with all his might, thinking of nothing but the incredible sexual pleasure you were giving him, gasping in a deep voice "Oh, god" and you felt him so close, his body twitching and his sex throbbing and agonizing for release.

“Cum for me, daddy, please, fill my hand with your cum” you whispered to him, not resisting any longer and moved in to kiss him.

You wondered why you didn't kiss him before, so desperate were you both that you forgot to feel his sweet lips before the dirty act. His lips trembled and let out a sigh, suddenly Felix had cum in your hand, spilling all his glory all over you, you felt his thick warm liquid, you would have loved to see his needy tip expelling his semen, but you were so focused on his lips, you smiled and kissed him again, his lips as soft and sweet as cotton candy, he followed your kiss, embarrassed to have his cock exposed, still he enjoyed your nice romantic kiss, almost making him fall in love with you.

He felt so sorry and guilty, but there was no doubt you would know how to treat him so well. You were still still horny and wet, but you were not crazy enough to ride his cock in a church room, you could wait for him, if it's for Felix you would be so patient with your good boy.

˚₊‧꒰Ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The next day came, you were so excited about your second encounter with Felix, you wanted to feel his throbbing sex in you again, you wanted to see his every reaction, so needy for your touch with his delightful gasps in the background. However your plans came crashing down when your uncle called, saying Felix couldn't attend which disappointed and upset you, you understood that poor Felix must have been embarrassed, his whole pretty head must have been over thinking all night, but he didn't have to, you want him and you are willing for him to get to fucking heaven if he wants to touch you and you were going to make it clear to him if you should continue… or if he really wants you to stop.

Felix knew he could have sex, like any normal person, but really after not having sex for a while he thought he would be saving himself more eagerly for the woman he would take to the altar of the church; but what hurt him most was that he did such a grotesque act in the presence of god, in his house, he was so tormented that he did not know how to remedy himself, neither praying 100 rosaries, nor going to confession would make the guilt leave his sinful little body.

On Friday he couldn't escape his already agreed welcome to the neighborhood, so he had to see you no matter how much he avoided you. That Friday Felix gave his first catechism class to the kids and went home to shower and get ready, where, in his shower he thought of you all the time, he thought of you in his vulnerable moments, he thought of you the night you touched him, and he touched himself and now he was masturbating to your image in his shower, pulling on his needy cock as if he were a horny teenager, he couldn't help it, he was suddenly full of you.

Felix rang your doorbell nervously, fixing his long hair and clothes almost shaking and letting out a sigh, you ran to your door; as soon as you left the university you rushed to get ready to see Felix again. You opened the door and found him, once again with his half ponytail, big glasses and wearing all white, white jeans, white shirt, and a thin jacket as an accessory.

“Welcome” you said to him with a big smile, letting him pass.

Your whole family greeted Felix, your mother's sister, your aunt, your parents, and your uncle, priest of the local neighborhood church. Your mother suggested Felix to wait a bit in the living room while she served dinner, you followed Felix, sitting next to him, this time you were dressed more modest, still wearing a short skirt, but not enough to show your butt. You wanted to whisper so many things to Felix, but your father was there, asking the poor boy if he was interested in football. Dinner was ready, which saved Felix from your father's conversation and your closeness, everyone washed their hands and, he took a seat as sweetly your mother instructed him and you, who saw your little sixteen year old cousin with every intention of sitting next to the pretty boy in the only available seat next to him, pushed her, to which your aunt sweetly said “Oh, Sally, come sit here.” Your parents were at the ends of the table, your uncle the priest, your mother's sister, and your cousin, sitting across from you at the sides of the table, you and Felix alone. Felix wanted to let out a half-hearted sigh at having you near, but tried to forget all thoughts and focus on a nice healthy dinner.

“Let's pray for food,” your mother said.

Everyone put their hands together and closed their eyes, you did it last managing to see how everyone at the table did, you prayed, oh god forgive me for what I will do, but I can't stop.

You waited for Felix to stop praying, you didn't want to be so mean and interrupt him in his sacred moment of prayer and, when you saw him tenderly open his big round brown eyes, you dropped your hand on his thigh caressing it. Felix opened his eyes, surprised, but he didn't want to show a stronger reaction since he was in the presence of more people, but that never stopped you.

He slyly lowered his hand, stopping yours, again not allowing you to take him into forbidden territory, but he had to pretend to eat, so he took both cutlery while your hand started stroking his member and, like magic, Felix slowly got hard in such a short time, Felix over bit the fork, almost sighing, which caused the attention of the others at the table.

“The food is delicious” he excused himself embarrassed with his red face and a smile.

You were teasing him so much, you squeezed his marked penis in his pants, it was so much fun to feel it, you wanted to sit on it, rub yourself on it, run your face in it, you wondered desperately when it would finally happen. You decided that you tortured poor Felix when you saw him so needy, struggling with not panting, with a smile you pulled your hand away and just kept watching him out of the corner of your eye. But the excitement wouldn't stop or leave Felix's body, he didn't know what to do, everyone was finishing dinner, ready to move from the table, but once he stood up, a visible erection in his pants would be present, leaving him looking like a pervert.

You checked your Felix again, still hard, you looked at him with tenderness and compassion, thinking that the poor guy must and must have suffered a lot.

“Felix and I will clear the table” you went ahead to say.

“But what are you talking about, he is a guest, let your cousin help you” your mother replied, getting up from the table.

“Mary, leave Y/N alone with the boy…” your aunt whispered half-jokingly to your mother, “Don't worry dear, we'll be in the living room, I'll play the piano for a while.”

Felix felt the slightest bit of relief to see the people leave, so he could go towards the bathroom embarrassed trying to calm down…. but he saw you, so attractive and with an arrogant smile, which infuriated him a little, it infuriated him that you can play with him whenever you feel like it.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Felix claimed to you, annoyed, which surprised you quite a bit.

You both stood up from the table and proudly saw his outstanding erection caused only by your minimal frictions.

“We can sneak out to so I can help you with that, daddy” you whispered to him, approaching him ready to stroke him again but he stopped your wrist tightly.

“Don't even think about it and don't call me daddy. Where is the bathroom?” he said again annoyed and domineering, confusing you.

You pointed him where to go and, you didn't know if you were more turned on by his unexpectedly domineering attitude… or if you really pissed him off and had ruined your chances.

Felix ran to the bathroom and cursed internally, every inch of his cock ached, and he cursed you too for being a pretty promiscuous girl driving him crazy, he thought there was no other choice but to make himself cum, so he pulled down his pants and underwear and started to jerk off holding back his every gasp, Felix took his thick swollen cock in his medium sized hands, so sensitive it almost made him shudder, thinking it could be your hands pleasuring him and began to stroke himself frantically bringing him to orgasm, biting his lip hard and throwing his head back in pure pleasure, almost crying. His sixth masturbation since he met you, one after your first encounter, three on Thursday, one before he came to see you and…. one just now in your mothers guest bathroom. Felix dropped all his semen into the toilet and flushed the handle hard followed by washing his hands frantically and maniacally as if he was trying to clean up blood from a atrocious crime he had just committed.

You disappointed, on the other hand, went to listen to your aunt play, until you felt Felix's fresh fragrance and presence next to you, he had decided that he didn't want it to stay that way and that, after all, he was still a normal 24 year old male, in every right to explore his sexuality and, you were cute, close to his age, he liked you, you wanted him, why not give it a try.

“Why don't you… come to my place tomorrow to discuss something…” whispered Felix in your ear slyly in his deep voice.

You smiled broadly, you couldn't wait.

˚₊‧꒰Ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Saturday, glorious Saturday before your Sunday family reunion at church, Felix finally took the initiative and invited you to be alone. Now it was you, who knocked on the door of his apartment nervously, but he was already waiting for you as he had to let you into the building first. He opened the door with a wide smile, so tender that you wanted to pinch his cheeks, but you only returned the gesture, for some reason, now you felt a little shy, after being the one who had taken all the important steps… You greeted each other shyly and you held out your shopping bag, indicating that you had brought him something.

“Come in, sorry about the mess, I'm still tidying up” he said, after you had seen apartment more neat and tidy apartment ever.

“I brought wine… I guess I didn't give you the proper welcome to the neighborhood” you told him seductively with a smile and dared to give him a quick kiss, which made him blush in seconds.

“I… cooked, well more like baked dessert and ordered dinner” he replied nervously, causing you tenderness.

You smiled at him and you both sat down to eat, bringing up any topic of conversation only to hear his voice and closely analyze the peculiar way his mouth moved every time he spoke, how his eyes looked up when he thought about something and his hands were in constant motion as he chatted about something.

You both relaxed afterwards, with nothing more to say, so you looked around his entire apartment and something of what looked like a keyboard in pieces caught your attention, you approached it, it was on the little table in front of his main couch in his living room.

“You were doing this? What is it?” you asked him with interest.

Felix followed you and stood there with his hands slightly shoved in his pants pockets.

“Oh, it's nothing, just a keyboard, I was just assembling it for fun.”

You looked at him, so tenderhearted, you literally didn't understand anything he said but you really liked him “You're so cute” you blurted out naturally, “Come here” you told him.

Felix sat next to you, obeying you and a little nervous, you approached his face with a smile and he watched you, suddenly you touched his lips, joining you both in an intimate act, you both enjoyed the angelic touch of your lips, but you couldn't help turning it into something more daring, opening your mouth and letting Felix explore inside you, but you noticed him so shy and insecure, you slowly let your body fall over him, you leaned down while your hand nimbly caressed his cock again, he grabbed you by the waist, taking you both into a sizzling and hot make out session.

But you couldn't wait, you were finally alone and it was more than obvious that Felix wanted to take things to another level, so you parted from him, agitated and unashamed, you undressed completely, exalting Felix, totally lost in your naked silhouette, and feeling bad for not having time to appreciate you in underwear, maybe next time; you approached him playfully, taking his shirt, without saying any words and also inviting him to undress. Felix was more than excited, he felt like a first timer exploring sex, as horny as a young man discovering his first porn, you were for him an erotic divinity, exploring every part of him he never thought existed, like the incredible lust and desire for intense sex.

Felix took off his shirt, revealing his thin complexion but marked abdomen, you bit your lip and without thinking twice you got on your knees in front of him, this time looking him in the eyes while you tried to pull down his pants, you caressed his marked abdomen and lowered your hand to unbutton his pants, he helped you to pull it down and playfully you slid all his jeans down his legs, taking them off. Felix gasped as he felt your warm breath near his cock, once again you saw him so yielding, his ears red and his cheeks flushed, you smiled and kissed his stiff cock on the fabric just to tease him some more.

For some strange reason, you loved to hear him so needy, like that time in church when he practically begged you to jerk him off, always so cute and kind not forgetting to say please.

You took his cock, still stimulating it on the cloth, looked him in the eyes and asked, “Do you want me to suck you off, Lix? Do you want to feel my mouth on your cock?”

Felix looked at you perplexed but excited to hear you talk so dirty, but gasped as he felt your tight hand on his member, he felt like he was going to cum at any moment. He nodded encouragingly and desperately.

“Yes-yes please, do it” he requested, pleading with his big eyes and contrasting with his raspy voice.

You smiled brightly and deftly pulled down his boxer shorts, freeing his hard swollen cock, sensitive to have its tip dripping with his precum, so throbbing and ready for use. You took him in, stroking his entire length, stuck out your tongue and your first taste of him was his thick glans, so soft and slippery on your restless tongue, you sucked on his tip, teasing him and causing a little 'pop' sound as you pulled him away from your mouth. Needless to say Felix was in heaven itself, he had never felt this desperate and excited in his life, you were giving him an unforgettable night.

You kissed his length and ran your tongue all around to lubricate it and taste every part of him as you massaged his balls. Even his genitals were as soft as he was, masculine looking, but tender. Felix kept whimpering in a high-pitched whine, unable to control the incredible sexual release that every little thing you did gave him. And finally, you introduced his member in your mouth, making him experience his first blowjob, Felix could not believe it, but it was true, his pasts girlfriends never bothered to satisfy him in such a way… he was always leaning towards the serious and reserved girls and at the end of the day they were, for poor Felix, complete dull in bed, but not for you, you who would love to try everything with Felix. He took his bending index finger into his mouth, biting it hard as he enjoyed the sensation of your cavity embracing his cock while you made eye contact with him, slowly he let himself go, and a little insecurely, took your hair gently, seeing how grotesque and dirty his wet member wrapped in your saliva looked sliding into your mouth, and your hand playing with his testicles, but he still loved it and wondered why he had never experienced it before, why he never felt eager for sex before when it was the most incredible thing in the world, at least for him, right now, and with you.

Felix couldn't take that much, you were stimulating him so well that, with his body trembling and hot gasps, he cummed in your mouth. Leaving you more than happy to finally taste him, he still hadn't finished cumming completely, his trembling, agonizing tip releasing his semen, when you pulled him out of your mouth, just for the pure pleasure of his cum on your lips and face, staining your face a bit with little white drops. You looked him in the eyes, and wiped his cum from your face to then suck your finger, making him hard in moments again, his erection being slightly more painful this time.

You wanted to be touched too, your pussy was throbbing hard and you were so wet and messed up that you wouldn't be surprised if you suddenly started squirting, so you sat on Felix's lap, so unexpectedly, positioning yourself sideways and not pressing so hard on his cock. Felix saw your naked body with closeness, he couldn't believe how amazing you were making him feel right now. You spread your legs, showing him your soaking wet vulva.

“I-I'm so wet, touch me” you whimpered, taking his hand and placing it on your pussy.

Felix bit his lip hard and understood instantly, gently caressing your labia with his fingers and nimbly finding your clit.

“Mmm, just like that, you're doing so good, it feels good” you gasped.

“W-what was that little name you were calling me before?” whispered Felix in your ear, his thick voice making you twitch.

You smiled broadly, unable to believe what he would be referring to and for him to suddenly show a dirty side as well.

“Daddy” you sighed, you would love to call him that, for some reason you found it exciting, he was a little older to you, he was a man with his own apartment and a steady job, he was more mature than you who were still a college student, his pretty innocent face was something easy to fool you with, but he was still your soft and gentle daddy, caressing your pussy with such care.

Felix felt so good, his cock throbbed as he heard you encouraging him, your hand reached for his cock as you enjoyed his fingers gently caressing you.

“Mm, Daddy, fuck me with your fingers, look at my so wet cunt” you whimpered, trying to separate your entrance with one hand so he could see it.

More precum came out of his tip, his cock and your hand was already sticky from your previous activity, and he wondered how many times he had to cum today, how many more times he had to make a mess, Felix thought at this point he could be an easy sperm donor with the generous amount you make him spill, he was being pleasured like never before, he didn't regret for a second not getting carried away with your game, otherwise you wouldn't be like this with him now, on his lap while you masturbate him and him playing with your soft pussy.

Felix let out a ragged sigh and with his fingers he sought your entrance, gasping as he felt the softness and tightness of his fingers slide inside you.

“Ahhh fuck, daddy, yes, fuck my pussy please” you whimpered.

You shivered as you felt him, his thick fingers slipping in and out of you, while his other hand caressed your breast, leaving you so hungry and eager to have your whole pussy filled and busy. You kissed Felix, who was concentrating on giving you pleasure, as if it were a video game console and he had to press the right button to make you shudder, and he was succeeding. By this time you had already realized that he was a bit inexperienced, his movements were a bit clumsy, he was so needy that you felt his cock throbbing hard in your hand, cumming for the second time.

And you, you were so full of active sexual energy and wanted to fulfill your every fantasy with Felix and needed constant stimulation and pleasure, you bit your lip, you stirred a little to reach up to whisper in his ear, “Let me sit on your pretty face, daddy, please.”

Felix looked at you surprised while you looked at him expectantly, he knew what was coming, even in his lonely college nights he used to watch porn, thinking that horny girls willing to experience all positions and last long minutes in sex just stayed there… but apparently you came out of his reality, you were a dream, the only difference was that he wasn't strong enough to last long minutes without cumming, he did it so often he lost count, he just enjoyed what you subtly ordered him to do.

“Get comfortable daddy so I can sit on your face” you said again more lusciously.

Felix pulled his fingers away from you and watched you stand up as you gently pushed him off his shoulders.

“Relax your body for me, daddy, lay down a little.”

He followed your orders, putting his back and head on the lumpy cushion of his couch, and you expertly squatted down to direct your whole pussy into his mouth, Felix watched a few seconds of your swollen pussy until he felt it in his mouth, you both gasped, his cock twitched, and the next thing he knew is that he must please you. Oh his sweet angel, tasting so good. He stayed with his eyes open, he held his hands on your thighs and saw your naked body above him.

Felix licked, kissed, sucked hard every length of your folds, stimulating your clit with his tongue while all your wetness was rubbing in around the area of his mouth and on his chin. You gasped loudly, it felt so good. His upturned nose gently rubbing your mons venus with your pussy smeared in his mouth.

“Yesss, daddy, you're doing so well, you're such a good daddy, fuck” you whimpered, his soft moans into your pussy as he licked it sent exquisite vibrations, driving you over the edge, “P-put your tongue inside my daddy, please” you begged.

Felix once again sought your entrance, thrusting his tongue in, playing with your dilated, dripping hole, bringing you almost to orgasm.

“Fuck, daddy I'm gonna cum” you whimpered in a high pitched tone, and you cum shuddered in his mouth.

Felix, like a good little boy, sucked hard on every bit of your fluid, gulping it down with delight as he felt another orgasm, his abdomen contracted and his cock twitched on its own, so painful and pleasurable, he climaxed all over his marked abs.

You shuddering, got off his face and appreciated the mess of his pretty, swollen lips stained with you.

“I'm gonna fuck you now, daddy” you said again animated and happy, still not letting Felix catch his breath. You positioned yourself on top of him, rubbing your folds on his cock and realized he cum once again, you smiled smugly, “Fuck, daddy, did you cum again? Did you liked my pussy that much, huh?” you said innocently, biting your lip as you held onto his abs, starting to rub yourself on his cock.

Felix loved the softness with which you spoke vulgarities, so he, aroused, dared to say in something that came out of him in a more low tone:

“Fuck, yes, princess, I loved your pussy.”

You were so surprised, his voice almost vibrating your body that you couldn't hold back any longer. You took his cock and directed it to your entrance, letting yourself fall all the way down his length, making you both gasp.

“Mm daddy your cock fits perfectly on me. Do you like my cunt in your cock daddy?”

“Y-yes” Felix whimpered needily as he felt you rubbing all over your wet pussy on him, stimulating his balls.

“Is it tight?”

“Oh fuck yeah, very tight, angel.”

“I'm gonna fuck you daddy, gonna make you fill up my pussy.”

And you began to move, sliding all over his cock, feeling how it was built right for you, yet it felt so tight to your pussy, it drove you crazy. Felix hadn't fucked in years, he never made a big deal about it but now, he was in heaven itself, he could die in your arms and he wouldn't matter, he would leave very well satisfied.

“Oh, fuck, yesss, it feels so good” he groaned.

He held you by the waist, panting deeply between each thrust and movement you brought to his cock, it felt so good, the way your insides embraced his cock, echoing through his apartment with the brutal sounds of your wet pussy colliding with his member. Felix was so close again, the vein in his neck showing, feeling so guilty about cumming inside you, but the feel of your internal organ buried in his cock made him see stars, maybe now he's obsessed with you and the feel of your pussy in him.

You noticed him so close, his hands shaking now squeezed your breasts and you sped up your movements.

“Cum for me daddy, please” you asked him, while at the same time you felt so close too.

Felix squeezed your breasts hard, shouted an “Oh, god” in a rough voice and cum intensely in you, ten times more intense than all the previous times.

You bit your lip, still moving in him waiting for your orgasm until it took your whole body, combining with Felix's cum sliding down his length and into your entrance. You pulled out of him, and gasped at the grotesque act of your hole expelling both fluids.

Breathless and a mess, you let yourself fall back on Felix's heaving slender chest. He wiped his mouth a little, took your face in his hands and began to give you little kisses around your face making you laugh, Felix may have fallen in love with you a little.

[ghettogirly]

Hi, I hope you are doing well. I was thinking Armando x Reader. Where Reader and Armando are with Mike and Marcus driving on the road and Reader decided to do a prank where she places a fart bag that releases the stinch under Marcus seat. Reader is pranking everyone and it pops open and Mike was going crazy, Marcus was making faces and Armando was turning red and saying curse words in Spanish and English and is holding his nose. Reader was dying laughing and at the end told them it was a prank. Marcus and Mike look stunned while Armando was devastated.

𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐀 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐖!

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐗 𝐀𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐘𝐀𝐇 (𝐅𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐂)

-> synopsis: where aaliyah decides to prank the team with a little fart spray… not a great idea.

-> format: drabble.

-> theme: comedy.

-> warning: mature language, use of the n word.

-> authors note: thank you for requesting this, it was so fun to write!!

💿 𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐔𝐏 - 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐈 𝐁

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The cool summer breeze of Miami flowed through the crack of the window that was open in the front , as the car drove along the highway. Marcus and Mike was in the front talking, while Armando and Aaliyah was in the back.

Moving around in her seat, she looked out the window. The palm trees that were decorated down the highway danced to the slow blow of the wind, waving the team goodbye as they headed down to Atlanta, Georgia for a team getaway. Armando had his head back with his eyes closed, trying to get some rest in before having to greet the rest of the team. His tan skin glistened as the sun illuminated on him, giving him more of a caramel complexion.

Analysing him even more, he had a freshly trimmed cut and his beard was noticeably groomed. His physique was outlined by the tight white shirt he had on accompanied by some washed blue jeans. The two grandads in the front were arguing about the radio, Marcus wanting it on, Mike wanting it off.

The subtle contrast of the tranquility and chaos made Aaliyah’s heart warm. This was her family.

Glancing over at the navigation system in front of her, she wondered how long they have left. 20 minutes. Rummaging through her bag, she looked for something to keep her accompanied during the last quarter of the journey. Her eyes landed on something.

Fart spray??

A smirk creeped up on the girls face as she subtly looked around the car. Armando was still resting, Mike and Marcus had finally stopped arguing. This was her perfect chance.

Shaking up the little container, she pushed her slim hands down the corner of Marcus’s seat that was right in front of her, pressing down on the little pump.

An aroma of a foul stench quickly filled up the car, first being noticed by Mike who shot daggers into Marcus’s soul. “Now i know, you did NOT just shit yourself in my brand new car Marcus!!”

“Nigga, fuck you and your motherfucking car! I didn’t do shit!!”

“So what is that smell?!”

Psh. Psh. Another pump.

Quickly hiding the spray back into her bag that was on top of her lap, Aaliyah sat back into her seat. Moving her 3c curls out her face, she quickly covered her nose with her baby blue top that she had on. “What the fuck is that smell?!”

Looking back at Aaliyah with a pained expression on his face, Marcus whispered, “Mike shat in his diaper..” Which resulted in a slap of Mike who heard the smaller guy. “It’s your fault that the car is smelling this!!”

The three started shouting backwards and forwards, trying to figure out the root of where the stench is coming from. Awaking from his slumber, the latino male sits up. “¡¿Quién coño huele así?!” Armando swore before quickly covering his nose with his hands.

“It was probably Armando farting in his sleep, Mike control your son!!!!” Marcus shouted, turning around and pointing at Armando while shaking his head. In disbelief to the accusations, Armando points his fingers back and starts pleading his case. “¿De qué coño me acusas? Apuesto a que fuiste tú.”

“Talk English Spanish boy!!!! We aren’t in viva la Mexico!” Marcus shouted back.

“He has a point though, maybe you’re accusing everyone because you know you did it!!” Mike shouted back.

“Oh so now you motherfuckers ganging up on me? Father/son attack?”

“Nigga-“

The arguing continued, unbeknownst to Aaliyah, Armando, Mike and Marcus, they pulled up to the little cabin where the getaway was held. Too involved in their argument of who done it, they didn’t realise they had an audience who was watching the chaos unfold. Marcus was shouting at both Mike and Armando, who were shouting back at him. The brown skinned girl was sitting there, her shirt still covering her nose as she pleaded for someone to open a window, falling on deaf ears. “Maldita sea, ni siquiera puedo descansar en paz cerca de ustedes.”

“We haven’t done shit!”

Looking around, Aaliyah noticed that they arrived at the location. “Guys, we are here!!”

“Gracias Dios, necesito salir de este coche.”

Everyone quickly opened the car doors, gasping for air as they all stared at each other. “Why you looking at me like that for?” Marcus exclaimed, mugging Mike. “This was YOUR fault motherfucker, why else??”

And then… the arguing continued.

Aaliyah now sick of the constant bickering between the two grandads pulled her bag out the car. “Guys, it was a prank! See?” Waving the small component of the spray which contained the foul stench, smiling at the two.

“I know this girl is not smiling in my face thinking shit is funny..?” The taller male spoke looking towards Marcus. “I think she is.”

“Tienes diez segundos para correr, mamá.” The latin male whispered, staring straight through the woman’s soul. His chocolate coloured eyes, now slowly turning into black orbs.

Oh shit.

Running into the house, Aaliyah pushed past the couple who stood infront of the door. Swiftly after, Armando, Mike and Marcus ran after her.

“You’re done for!!” The three all shout in unison.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🌸] 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒:

“¡¿Quién coño huele así?!” : Who the fuck is smelling like that?

“¿De qué coño me acusas? Apuesto a que fuiste tú” : Why the fuck are you accusing me for? I bet it was you.

“ Maldita sea, ni siquiera puedo descansar en paz cerca de ustedes. “ Fucking hell, i can’t even rest peacefully around you guys.

“Gracias Dios, necesito salir de este coche.”: Thank you God, i need to get out of this car.

“Tienes diez segundos para correr, mamá.” : You got ten seconds to run, mama.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🌸] 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @dyttomori @shurisgf @milliumizoomi @tyneshaaa @armandosbabymama @wizewhispers @amplifiedmoan @thedarkworldofhananerea @deadpool15 @5tarlan7 @sarcasticbitchsblog @believeinthefireflies95 @yeahnohoneybye

[kteezy997]

NSFW ALPHABET

Elio Perlman

I will follow the template this time hehe

Aftercare: Elio will gladly find a t-shirt to clean you up with. Also, cuddles, lots of cuddles.

Body Part: His favorite part of his body is probably his torso. He loves for you to cover his slim tummy and chest in kisses. His favorite body part of yours is your lips. He could kiss them and caress them with his fingers all day long.

Cum: He loves for you to swallow his cum, and he also likes to see his cum on your body, anywhere on your body. He is fascinated by the fact he carries the substance that could impregnate a woman. He loves to taste your cum as well. He loves to try and get you to squirt so he can gulp it down.

Dirty Secret: He told you that he once fucked a peach. You didn't believe him at first, so after weeks of asking and asking him, he finally let you watch him do it again.

Experience: Elio is somewhat experienced with girls and with one guy. He is not an expert by any means, but he is very sexually curious and loves to explore.

Favorite Position: He likes doggy. He isn't a very big or imposing man, so he likes how powerful and in-control the position makes him feel.

Goofy: He tries to be serious and mature during sex, but sometimes afterwards he is able to giggle with you.

Hair: He is well groomed and shaves regularly.

Intimacy: Elio is a lover boy. He is quite romantic; he loves to look into your eyes and hold your hand during sex. He also loves making love outside under the moonlight and the stars.

Jack Off: He is a typical young male and masturbates often.

Kink: He likes to bring food into sex, especially fruit grown from the Perlman's backyard.

Location: His favorite place to have sex would probably be his hiding place in the house, the attic.

Motivation (turn ons): He is easily turned on. It could be something as simple as seeing you in a bikini or seeing melted ice cream dripping from your lip on a hot day.

No (Something he will NOT do): He will not hit or slap or inflict pain onto you, ever. He's a lover boy, remember?

Oral Sex: Of course he likes to receive, but he is much more of a giver. He gets better every time he does it. Perhaps he found tips on how to do it in one of his books?

Pace: Usually, he is slow and sensual. He doesn't want it to end too fast. Plus, it's more romantic that way.

Quickie: He's always down for a quickie, he enjoys sneaky sex.

Risk: He is game to experiment and take risks, to an extent. He wouldn't want his parents to know about his exploits and have them be disappointed in him.

Stamina: He can usually only go about two rounds at one time. But he can last a long time if he is pacing himself.

Toys: He doesn't use sex toys (besides a peach), but that is not to say he won't be interested in them in the future.

Unfair (teasing): Elio is such a tease. He will walk around half naked all the time, munching on juicy fruit and giving you a sensual look. He will take a drink from a water bottle and let the water drip onto his chest.

Volume: He is pretty quiet for the most part, as he lives with family. He is worried that you two will make noise and wake his parents or Mafalda in the night.

Wildcard (something random): Elio loves to go swimming; it is one of his favorite things to do to pass the time. So naturally, he has wanted to fuck in the water. But he realized that it is not as easy as he thought it would be. When you tried, all lubricant was lost, and his cock became far too sensitive to finish.

X-ray: Elio has a thin, beautiful body with very little scars or blemishes. His skin is like perfect porcelain and is baby soft to the touch. He definitely lives up to the hype of skinny man equals a big dick. His member is long and thick and very suckable.

Yearning (sex drive?): Elio has a very high sex drive. Any hour of the day or night, he is ready to go. He cannot get enough of you.

Zzz: He is able to fall asleep within about ten or fifteen minutes if you have sex late at night. He will cuddle you all night long. His favorite way to sleep is using your chest as a pillow.

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @lixzey @bitchyunknownuser @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @elloise0 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @mel-vaz @sammy-halpert @iwishchalamet @that-one-fangirl69 @jindongdongie @briefkittenearthquake

[just--vi]

Even though I have a zillion fest pieces due in the next few weeks, I wrote this lil birthday fic for @cancerravenclaw. It's just what you do when your best friend turns [redacted].

“Who are you into tonight? What’s your type?”  Remus looks at him incredulously before huffing and dragging his eyes across the dance floor. There are pink and green flashing neon lights that turn everyone into a mass of moving bodies, features lost to the cheap smoke machine in the corner. It’s trashy. Sirius loves it. “I dunno, Pads,” Remus says tightly. “Nobody. Slim pickings tonight.”

Sirius levels him with a look before promptly turning back to the dance floor. In truth, it’s sort of hard to look at Remus and not spill it all. Hard to watch the light slide over his face, sharp and beautiful, hard to watch his jaw work around something he wants to say but doesn’t. James, always sensible, has told him over and over again that maybe he should just tell him. But sensible doesn’t work with Remus, he’s too flighty. He ditched his first boyfriend two weeks into dating because he offered to pay for dinner one night and Remus thought that would tie him down, he switched majors three times before he dropped clear out of school because he “just doesn’t know yet,” and sometimes spends long minutes in the produce aisle debating apple varieties only to go home with pears instead.

“If you don’t, I will.” Remus is like a furnace next to him, hot through his clothes, solid, muscles tense like if he stands here determinedly enough Sirius won’t be able to drag him back into the crowd. 

“Fine,” Remus snaps. “Those two.” There are two men on the other side of the bar leaning against the same high-top table. Sirius wonders if Remus has picked what looks to be a couple on purpose.

“Them?” He snorts. “You trying to get into swinging? Have a foursome?” He can see the blush creeping up Remus’ cheeks.

“I don’t know!” He snaps, and Sirius almost feels bad. His fingers are so tight around his plastic cup that it’s at risk of splitting and spilling all over the floor. Sirius takes pity on him then, finding a rowdy looking group across the bar and gestures Remus toward them. They’re a pretty lot, a man with inky black hair that curls around his ears and sharp green eyes, a sandy blonde, tall, buff and freckled, a girl with a blonde shag cut around her shoulders. Nobody is hanging on one another, nobody looks like they’re on their way to going home together. 

“The tall one’s mine,” Sirius tells him halfway across the dance floor. Remus flicks his eyes up and down the other man and back to Sirius. He’s trying very hard not to read too much into that look when his own elbows land on the group’s table. It’s abrupt, all three sets of eyes turn to look at him, equally intense. The woman moves first, lips twitching into an amused smile that feels a little bit predatory. It has him seriously wondering if he really is that easy to read. 

“Hi,” Sirius drawls, giving each one of them another once over. “Haven’t seen you in here before…”

[asnowdriftsomewhere]

Daylight pt6

Cassian x f!reader

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

An: I've been busy, but here is the next part. I do hope you enjoy

Summary: Dinner with the IC doesn't go exactly to plan...

Warning: I am deliberately choosing not to put any. Proceed with caution.

Word count: 2239

Cassian nearly choked on his tongue when he saw you. Doing a double take as you breezed through the doors onto the veranda where he had been waiting for you. He would never admit it to you, but he'd been anxiously awaiting your appearance for more than thirty minutes now. Running his fingers through his hair and gripping the railing so tight he was surprised there weren't hand prints left behind. But you were here now, and Cauldron, you were beautiful. Like dawn's first light given physical form. 

You suppressed a blush as you approached the general whose jaw had gone slack and whose eyes couldn't seem to stop taking you in. Hazel eyes roved over your body, drinking in every part of you like a male starved and were a proverbial buffet. You may have swished your hips as you approached. Just a bit. 

“You..” he trailed off, eyes finally reconnecting with yours as he swallowed hard. “You look… beautiful, Y/N”

“Thank you, Cassian,” you blushed in earnest now as you came to stand beside him along the railing. “You look rather dashing yourself.” 

“Ah, well,” he looked down at himself, and you took the opening to survey the Illyrian before you. He wasn't in his usual black leather armor but instead wore an elegant black jacket and matching slacks. Red and silver embroidery along the lapels and cuffs of his jacket looked like exploding stars and almost seemed to shift in the fading light of dusk. Though it was obvious he was not used to wearing such fine things, he pulled it off as if he never wore anything else. The jacket was tailored perfectly to his broad shoulders. The hem drew the eyes to his slim waist and long legs. If you didn't know any better, you would have thought him to be a powerful lord of this land with all the elegance and refinement that entailed. “The House laid this out for me, I don't even know where it got it.” 

You let out a laugh at that, “You too? It pulled this out for me.” 

He laughed with you at that, taking the invitation to look you over once more before holding his hand out to you. “Shall we?”

You hesitated a moment, glancing back towards the house, “Shouldn't we wait for Nesta?” 

“Feyre came and picked her up earlier,” he shrugged, keeping his hand steady in front of you. “She wanted to visit Nyx before dinner.”

Your breath caught in your throat, “Oh, okay…” 

Uncertainty crossed his features then, “Is… Is there a problem? Should I have Feyre come get you too?” His hand started to drop.

“No,” you said quickly, reaching out to take his hand in yours before he could step away. “Sorry, no. There is no problem.” His hand was large and warm. His calluses scraped against your own, sending a shock of electricity through you as you snapped your gaze up to meet his hazel eyes. 

Suddenly, you were not standing atop the House of Wind. You were not in Velaris or any part of the Night Court you were familiar with. Instead, you were walking around an obsidian obelisk. A baron mountain rumbled beneath your feet, and the wind rushed through your hair. You paused, your eyes shifting to one of the steep climbs below where three figures were making their way towards you- towards the stone behind you. The mountain shook again, and two sets of hazel eyes locked onto yours. 

You blinked, and you were back on the veranda. Cassian standing before you with a look of concern on his face. “Sorry. We should go. They're probably waiting for us.” You shook your head as if to clear the vision from your mind before stepping closer to him.

He stiffened for a moment as you pressed your body into him before bending to sweep your legs out from under you. You let out a small squeak as he jumped from the verandas's edge, and the two of you began a free fall towards the city below. But just before you took matters into your own hands and winnowed you both to safety, his wings snapped out, and with a powerful beat, you found yourself gliding through the air. 

The city glittered like stars below, and you couldn't stop the gasp from escaping your mouth as you took in the view. You'd seen Velaris at night. You'd watched the lights twinkling below as if to match the stars above and had marveled at the perfect beauty of it all. But this, flying through it, as if swimming in a sea of stars, you felt something in your chest shift and settle at the sight before you and the feeling of warm arms enveloping you. You wouldn't name the feeling. Not yet. 

But maybe soon. 

You arrived at the River House sooner than you would have liked, but Cassian set you down respectfully in the lawn just as the door flew open and two High Fae females rushed to greet you. 

“Y/N!” Feyre beamed, pulling you into a hug, “You look amazing! I've missed you.”

“We saw each other last week,” you laughed as you wrapped your arms around the female. 

“Yes but that was so long ago,” she sighed as Rhysand appeared in the threshold and wrapped an arm around the waist of his mate to gently pry her off of you. 

“You'll have to forgive, Feyre darling,” he smirked down at her and she giggled, “Mor convinced her to raid my collection of rare wine again and because she's not had a drink since before she got pregnant it seems to have hit her rather harder than normal.”

“He's full of it-I'm fine,” she protested despite how her words slurred slightly, and you laughed. 

“Oh course you are, my love,” he placated her with a wink towards you. “But we are glad you agreed to join us tonight, Y/N.”

“It wasn't exactly phrased like I had an option,” you raised an eyebrow as you cast a glance towards Cassian, who tried and failed to not look guilty. “But, still, I thank you for your hospitality, High Lord.”

“Please just call me Rhysand,” he smiled warmly at you, and you dipped your chin slightly. 

“Of course.” 

“I think this is the most I've heard you speak,” Nesta's voice was cold, her gaze like a knife opening you up to dissect what she found inside. “You're always so… quiet in the library.” The atmosphere shifted with her words. Everyone went still and alert as you faced the female across from you.  

“It was my understanding that the Priestesses preferred quiet in their library,” you spoke evenly as you met her gaze head on. “But if you're referring to how I refused their attempts at companionship, then yes, I have done that.”

“So you think you're better than them?” Her eyes narrowed on you. “You think they are not worth your time?”

You didn't back down from her, “I didn't say that.” 

“No, you just implied it-”

“Nesta,” Feyre warned, but her sister ignored her. 

“If that is how they felt by my actions, then I apologize.” You squared your shoulders, “but I am used to being dismissed and overlooked for my ideas and research. The other advisors didn't bother to speak or debate with me in the Day Court libraries because my interests were not theirs. I simply believed that that would be the case among the Priestesses.” 

“You didn't even give them a chance,” crossed her arms over her chest. 

“You're right, I didn't, and for that, I am sorry. Perhaps if Merrill can spare her, Gewn can assist me come Monday.” You offered the olive branch between you, “I have a great many tombs to look into and only so much time before I return to the Day Court.” 

Her shoulder seemed to relax at that as she tipped her head to the side, “You'll have to talk to Clotho about that, but I'm sure Merrill will be fine without her for a while.” 

You smiled softly at her, “Okay.” Everyone on the lawn seemed to take a collective breath as the tension between you dissolved and Cassian stepped to your side.

“Why don't we go in,” he suggested, placing one hand on the small of your back to guide you through the door. “I'm hungry and need the fuel if Nesta is gonna be starting fights all night. 

“Hmp,” Nesta's cold gaze looked over the General like he was little more than a nuisance in her vicinity, “Just because you showed up to a battle of wits unarmed does not mean I have to play nice.”

“Alright, ouch,” he shot her a weak glare, and you laughed before raising a hand to tap his cheek sweetly. 

“Don't worry,” you smiled as the male went still under your fingertips. “I brought wits to spare. I'll cover you.” 

“And what about the rest of us?” Feyre pouted as she and Rhysand led you through the house towards the dining room where Mor and Amren were waiting for you all. 

“You grew up with her,” you chuckled, taking the seat that Cassian pulled out for you. “If you haven't figured out how to handle her by now, there's no hope for you at this point.” 

“Who are we handling?” Mor asked as she bounced Nyx on her knee, the baby giggling happily. 

“Nesta is in rare form tonight,” Rhysand explained as he swept the child from her arms and raised him into the air as if he were flying. “She tried to start a fight with Y/N within minutes of her arrival.”

“I simply pointed out how rude she was to the Priestesses,” Nesta shrugged as she took her seat. 

“Fortunately, I am used to handling people who use their words to bite,” you smiled at the female, venom lacing your tone. 

Amren's grin was a thing of nightmares, “Gods it's been an age since someone interesting came to Court. Where has Helion been hiding you?” 

“Where he keeps all his most useful things,” you shrugged lightly, trying to ignore the flash of discomfort that bloomed in your chest. “The Grand Library.” 

“What's it like there?” Feyre asked dreamily as she took the seat next to Mor. “I've always been curious, but we never have time to leave the palace whenever we visit Helion.”

“It's beautiful,” you said simply as you let your memories of the Day Court cloud your vision. “Pillars of silver and gold intertwining amongst the many stacks of bookcase that hold knowledge as old and older than Prythian itself. The floors are made of clear quartz that capture and refract the light into an array of rainbows that illuminate the floor below of which there are seven. The top floor is open to the air so that the winds of Day can sweep through the mezzanine and remind us to get out of the library every now and again.” You looked to Cassian, who'd taken the seat next to you. “I think that was why time got away from me when I first arrived. There is no wind in the library below the house, not like back home.”

“And how does our collection compare to your own?” Mor asked, swirling the wine in her goblet as she crossed one golden leg over the other. “Are you finding everything you need?” 

“Just about,” you smiled softly at her, your eyes locking on to her brown ones. “There are a few tombs here that have proven quite insightful.”

She quirked an eyebrow at you, “Such as?” 

“A collection of death myths and a scholar's analysis of their similarities and differences.” You shrugged, not looking away. “And the journals of fae who experience near death. Though I think speaking with Azriel will provide the most valuable information to my research.” 

“And what are you researching?” She asked, taking a sip of her drink, “My dear cousin has been incredibly tight-lipped about the reason for your visit.” 

“Mor,” Rhysand spoke from somewhere far away. His voice sounded as if you were separated by glass. By a wall of water, an ocean around just Mor and you. She was all there is. All that mattered was answering her questions.

“I'm researching death,” you said simply, something in your chest tightening. “And if, when someone comes close, do they get to make the decision if they succumb or live. I wonder if it's true what healers say when treating death blows or grave illnesses. Do their patients actually have a say, or is the concept of ‘fighting for life’ just a comforting lie we tell them to give them hope.” 

“Mor!” Someone was shouting from an ocean away, and you felt something wet trickle down your face. 

“Why would you be looking into something as depressing as that?” She tipped her head to the side, those brown eyes seeming to swallow you whole. 

“Because I need to know if it's worth it,” you whispered now, your voice becoming irrevocably brittle, “If I have a chance to live or if I should just accept that I will die.” 

Everything went quiet then. As if the universe were bracing itself for your next admission.

Even Mor’s cat-like smile fell from her face as she asked, “What do you mean?”

“I'm sick,” you whispered, and the world cleaved apart. 

[enjoythesilentworld]

I can’t believe I almost missed the chance to ask you to write smth. That’s what I get for having a busy tumblr dash. Anyway. “Join me” as a prompt pls? 💜

hello my darling Lia. you know i'd write anything you asked me to. for today, here's a (not) little ficlet in which Simon neglects to read the fine print and somehow it actually turns out really well for him.

💜enjoy xx

Alone in a foreign country, Simon must find a stranger to join him on the romantic couples food tour he’s accidentally booked. (a 2.3k strangers to lovers, fake dating, speed-run of an AU) if you see this again for day 2 of simon's month dont worry bout it

Simon curses under his breath as the confirmation email comes in.

So, he’d booked the food tour a little quickly, possibly without reading all the fine print. He can’t even blame a language barrier because he’s in Spain and, thanks to his mamá, his Spanish is really better than his English.

The solo-travel thing had been a bit of a last-minute decision. Spurred by the post university graduation crisis of, ‘Oh Fuck What Am I Doing With My Life?’ whichled twenty-somethings around the globe to grab a backpack and buy a one-way plane ticket. Simon’s decision was also encouraged by the fact that he’d woken up one day and realized he was in a toxic relationship, quickly packing his bags and saying Hejdå to a two-year relationship. He’s only about three weeks into the whole self-discovery shtick, but it seems to be going well so far. He enjoys the independence of it all. Not that he’s not independent at home — in fact, he’s been a little bit too much of an adult since he was 10 — but more so that he doesn’t have to worry about anyone else. Simon goes to museums when he wants to, stays for as little or as much time as he wants. He eats when he wants, goes to shows he likes, and doesn’t spend every second of every day worrying about everyone else. (Of course, he’s called his mama and sister nearly every day since he left, but he’s working on it.) He also, apparently, incorrectly books guided food tours that are actually romantic couples excursions. 

Glancing around the nearly empty breakfast room at his hostel, he chews on his options. One is to show up to this tour alone and look like a dumb tourist. Two is to find someone willing to go on it with him.

There’s a pair of British girls in the corner, giggling over their plates of breakfast. Simon recognizes them from the stand-up comedy show the hostel had organized the night before; they’d been attached at the hip the whole night. Slim chance of separating them. Crowding around the cereal bar is a group of American guys who all look like fraternity brothers. If Simon remembers correctly, he’d overheard some vile words from them in the bar last night, and so he’s is not too keen on participating in any sort of tour with any of them, romantic or not.

The only other person in the room is sitting a few seats down at the communal table: a very good-looking man with light auburn hair and high cheek bones. His long fingers, nails painted a deep purple, hold up a book with one hand and gingerly lift a coffee cup to his lips with the other. He’s dressed quite casually, in an un-done button up over a tank-top and baggy trousers, but somehow makes it look refined. Simon noticed him yesterday afternoon in the hostel café, noticed the way the man’s eyes tracked Simon from across the room.

His pretty brown eyes are no longer locked on the pages of the book, but have found Simon again and caught him staring. Simon forces himself to hold his ground and smiles, glancing down at the book title. It’s by a Swedish author, he realizes, and a gay Swedish author at that.

Gesturing with his head, Simon asks, “Is it good?”

The pretty man places his coffee cup down clumsily. “Yeah, it’s one of my favorites.”

“I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“I’ve read it a million times,” he says, closing the book. “I’m Wille.” 

The light blush on his cheeks is endearing.

“Simon.”

Wille smiles softly and nods, “Trevligt.”

He’s polite and looks suspiciously rich to be in this hostel, but his eyes are kind and has a rainbow pin on his tote bag so, before Wille can say anything else, Simon slides one chair closer.

“Are you doing anything today, Wille?”

Wille moves to the chair across from Simon. “Nope.”

Simon props his head on both his hands and gazes at this beautiful stranger, wondering why he didn’t speak to him the day before. “Would you like to join me on a romantic food tour around Barcelona?”

Wille quirks an eyebrow, then mirrors Simon’s position. “I would love to.”

The tour doesn’t begin for a few hours, so they sit and chat while the breakfast room fills up around them. Wille laughs when Simon explains how he’s gotten himself into this situation, and the sound sets little sparks bursting in Simon’s chest. What luck he’s had this morning.

Simon learns that Wille is also at the beginning of a self-discovery trip, running away from a family legacy and a desk job he desperately did not want. He also learns that Wille is incredibly funny and quite flirty, though whenever Simon starts flirting back he becomes incredibly flustered. His stare, though, is the thing that gets Simon the most. Wille looks at him so intently, gaze flitting between Simon’s eyes and his mouth, listening to every word and seemingly staring directly into Simon’s soul. It would be troubling if he wasn’t so goddamn beautiful.

The conversation flows so easily between them that Simon, so wrapped up in Wille’s laugh and crooked teeth, almost forgets they have somewhere to be.

They walk quickly through the streets of Barcelona together, heading towards the café at which they’re meant to meet the rest of their tour group. Wille’s fingers brush against Simon’s a few times, though his voice never falters, so Simon isn’t sure if it’s just him that feels the jolt of electricity each time.

“You said this is a romantic food tour?” Wille asks, reaching out to pull Simon out of the way of a passing cart.

The city is bustling with life around them, the sun shining hot between the buildings, people hanging off balconies, chatting with neighbors or stringing up laundry to dry. It’s absolutely beautiful, and somehow it seems a bit more colorful than it had the day before.

“Yes.”

“Is it going to be obvious that you and I just met?” he says, letting Simon go ahead of him to squeeze through the crowd, staying close, with a hand hovering over Simon’s lower back.

“Well,” Simon muses, “we could make it a bit of a game. If you’re down.”

Looking over his shoulder, he sees Wille’s eyes light up with mischief. “I’m down. What kind of game?”

Simon chuckles and shrugs, checking his phone to make sure they’re still headed in the right direction. “We could pretend to be a couple. You know, really put on a show.”

“That sounds very, very fun, Simon.”

For the last ten or so minutes of their walk, they establish some basic rules. They’ll hold hands and gaze lovingly in each other’s eyes and ramble to anyone who asks about their beautiful love story. The goal is to one-up every other couple there by acting sickeningly in love. By the time they make it to the café, only a few minutes late, they’re holding onto each other and cackling at the increasingly ridiculous ‘meet-cute’ ideas they’ve come up with.

There are three other couples in the tour: one looks like a very young newly-wed couple, another is a pair of middle-aged ladies, and the third is a pretentious-looking, older couple who already look fed up with everyone else. As the tour-guide starts on their spiel, Wille wraps a tender arm around Simon, pulling him close and whispering jokes into his ear, somehow making them look more like a couple than even the newly-weds.

They sit down to start, and Wille lets Simon order for them off the selected menu. They feed each other bites of tomato toast and gently wipe crumbs from each other’s cheeks, all the while giggling to each other and only half-listening to the explanations of the food. It also seems they’ve unintentionally started a competition with the other young couple of who-can-look-more-in-love. When Wille hands Simon a napkin before he can even ask to wipe up his splashed juice, the man of the other couple tries to lovingly whisper something in his wife’s ear but gets brushed off as she’s too busy listening intently to the tour guide. When Simon holds out a forkful of potato omelette for Wille, the man tries to do the same, but his wife shakes her head, smiling, and fondly pats his cheek then turns back to her own plate.

As they move through the next few stops — a restaurant, a food cart, and an open-air market — he and Wille fall even further into their ‘game’. There’s plenty of very intentional touches and exchanged loving glances, but Wille also asks Simon about himself. About his family and his dreams and where he’s going next. Simon learns even more about Wille’s obsession with frogs and his love for lakes and his passion for writing. The rest of the tour group fades away, and things between them start to feel a little less like a game and a little more real. The prolonged eye contact becomes less playful and more loaded. The lingering touches become less out of competition and more out of some deep urge. Simon’s eyes flick more often down to Wille’s lips, watching him lick cream off his fingers or clean gazpacho off his spoon.

Maybe it’s the wine, but as they head to their last stop of the day, hand in hand, trailing behind the group, Simon finds himself hoping Wille isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. He’d made a few friends over the past few weeks, but it always seemed to work out that when he was having a great time, the person would be leaving the very next day, heading off to some new country or heading back home.

Wille grins over at him and points out a pretty sculpture, mumbling something smart about the artist and looking absolutely ethereal in the light of the early evening with his flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. Maybe it isn’t just the wine.

Their final destination is small tapas place on the beach. Simon and Wille have given up any pretense of listening to the tour guide or of playing their little game. Instead, they sit close at their table and chat about their favorite memories growing up and tell embarrassing stories. Simon, as he’s done at every place, translates every bit of Spanish on the menu and giggles helplessly as he corrects Wille’s pronunciation. They share a plate of pulpo and split a liter of sangria and it’s one of the most perfect days Simon’s ever experienced.

“I’m really glad I misread that website,” Simon says, fiddling with his fingers. When he glances up, he finds Wille grinning at him. He takes Simon’s hand.

“Me too.”

After the tour concludes and their guide bids they all farewell, their group mostly scatters. But, Wille and Simon stay at their table, finishing off their pitcher and becoming increasingly rowdy with their jokes. After a few annoyed looks from their waiter, they collect their things and stumble down to the beach. Simon jumps onto Wille’s back, laughing loudly and savoring the feeling of Wille’s strong hands wrapped securely around his legs. Wille wades out into the shallow water of the beach, and Simon yelps when he pretends to nearly drop them both into the cool water.

Eventually, Wille lets him down but takes his hand instead, and they walk down the sand, talking about the food tour and realizing that they maybe didn’t pay attention at all.

There’s a warm buzz in Simon’s body, making him giddy and calm all at once. When they make it to a small concrete pier, Wille pulls him out to the edge of it and they stand, arms wrapped around each other, staring out at the Mediterranean.

Simon sigh happily. “Beautiful.”

“Yeah. Very,” Wille says breathlessly, and Simon looks up to see Wille staring down at him. He smacks Wille’s chest playfully.

“You’re an idiot, Wille.”

Wille laughs, “I’m being serious!”

“Sure,” Simon hums, turning back to the water, biting back a smile.

“Hey.” He turns back again and Wille’s face has sobered, and he’s now gazing down at Simon with that same intense stare. “You are beautiful, Simon. You’re also funny and kind and— I had a really, really great time today.”

He squirms slightly at the force of the words, the conviction in Wille’s tone, but can’t help but let his eyes flicker down to Wille’s lips. He’s so close and looks so pretty in the cool lighting of the twilight evening and Simon’s never thought it could be possible to fall for someone like this, this hard, in one day.

“Me, too,” Simon whispers. Then, “Wille?”

“Yes?”

“Can I—”

Wille nods, gasping, “Yes,” before Simon can even finish his sentence and then they’re both rushing forward.

Finally, after thinking about it nearly all day, Wille’s lips connect with his. He tastes like fruity wine and olives and something so Wille, and Simon melts into his arms, coming up onto his tiptoes to press further into him. Wille’s hair is soft under his fingertips and though they’ve basically been touching all day, this is different and overwhelming and everything.

When they break apart, giggling into each other, the lights have come on along the paved pathway by the beach.

“Maybe we should head back?” Wille suggests, looking just as much like he doesn’t want to head back as Simon feels. But, it’s getting late and he’s also starting to feel tired from all the wine and walking, so Simon nods and takes Wille’s hand again.

They trail slowly back through the streets, pausing occasionally to exchange a quick kiss, or to slip into an alcove and exchange a slightly longer one. By the time they make it back to their building, Simon’s limbs feel syrupy with sleep and his chest feels warm with the events of the day.

Two steps up the stairs to the front door of the hostel, Simon stops and turns.

“Where will you be tomorrow?” he asks, looking down at Wille.

Wille smiles. “Wherever you are.”

[faegoddessog]

To Places You'd Never Been: A pre-Bikerider's fic

Summary: Benny has two things that balance the violence in his life: the freedom of the road and making women cum. Were you just another in a long line of girls he 'introduced' to your own pleasure? Undoubtedly. Did you care? Hell no. What he taught you about yourself that night changed everything for you.

Warnings: Hotness... duh. Sexualizing motorcycles and smoking, Benny in charge, fingering, tongue to clit action, getting you comfortable with seeing and touching his cock, PiV.

Explicitly Mature Content 18+only

A/N: I hadn't planned on writing a Benny fic. In fact I was taking a hiatus from writing new things to edit one of my stories for publishing. But this one came bubbling to the surface. The idea of Benny riding around the midwest in the 60's handing out orgasms to women like candy is just too hot to not write. Enjoy!!

Special thanks to my t-bestie @purejasmine for proofreading for me!!! ❤️❤️❤️

Let me know if you want added or taken from my tag list.

@purejasmine, @slowsweetlove, @richardslady121, @austinbutlerslovers, @tadpoleteef, @allittakesisoneflight, @thisworldisntrealhoney,  @1nho,  @megangovier, @briaandthephantoms, @andro-inherdreamworld @callumsgirl @blombardo  @fefeisastar @hacunamy @nestito702 @denised916 @jayydep @r0m4nitcl0v3r @heyidc03 

To Places You'd Never Been

Seriously, Benny was good lookin’. Even with a thin film of road grime on him, he was by far the hottest man you had ever seen. His quiet mystery made him all the more appealing. 

He’d seen you at the bar, knowing it was way too rough a place for a girl like you. He had sat down, introducing himself, then just stared at you for a full minute as you sucked on the bottle of your grape pop, unsure what to even say. 

“Wanna take a ride?” he asked.  

“I uh, should… home,” you had said, barely able to rub two words together into a sentence under his stare.

“Well then two birds, one stone,” he stood and offered you his hand. He was tall and slim under that jacket. His blond scruff of a beard made him look rugged. and his blonde hair longer on top and curling up just a little behind his ears made him look both classic and modern at the same time. 

Sitting on the back of his bike was in and of itself, sexual. When you slid your hands around his tight waist and pressed your body to his, you knew you were a goner. You had scooted up close to him, holding on for dear life as he hit the clutch and the gas, rolling out onto the street. When he finally braked in front of your apartment, it pressed your jean-covered crotch hard into the vibrating seat behind him. Fuck you weren’t usually this kind of girl, but there were exceptions to every rule. 

“Wanna come in? I could make you a sandwich or something,” you offered, your two girlfriends that you lived with were gone for the weekend.

Benny just smiled at you, licking his lips. 

“Alright,” how he was able to put so much meaning into one word, you had no idea. 

You had made it as far as shutting the front door behind him. When you turned back you were in his arms and he was kissing you, his plush lips soft against your own. Counterintuitive to his outward demeanor, he was gentle and slow with his tongue. It somehow made you feel safe. His hands roamed your back, dipping down to trace the roundness of your ass with his palm. There was no doubt what he was asking for in everything but words. 

“Do you, um… actually want a sandwich or like…” you asked stupidly as he pulled from your lips. You couldn’t help it, your brain being temporarily short-circuited from the hotness of the man. 

“No, not yet anyway,” he smiled, “gotta work up an appetite first, if….” he let the question hang in the air with a raised brow. 

You knew exactly what that ‘if’ had meant.  Now you are standing in your bedroom, biting your bottom lip,  nervous as hell. But there is no way you are passing on this man. He rummages in his jacket pocket, pulling out a rubber and tossing it and his cigs onto the bedside table, before carefully draping his colors and jacket on the dresser. His white shirt has grease smudges and dirt on it, which somehow makes him that much more appealing. Everything about this man is a contradiction.

“You a virgin?” he asks, turning back to you, “not that I care, just wanna know do I gotta be careful.” 

You shake your head, blushing more for being under his stare than at the question. “I had a guy, Robbie,  we did it a couple times. Then we broke up just before he left for college.” You don’t know why you are telling him this, it’s not like he asked. 

“Did you like it?” he asks, bending to untie his boots.

“Yeah,” you shrug, “I guess so.”  It had been adequate, though you hadn’t seen what all the fuss was about. The whole thing had taken Robbie less than 5 minutes and left you messy. But you had figured that’s just what it was. You had liked the kissing part leading up to it and the rest had felt ok. Well, after that first time,  but there had always seemed like something was left off for you. You didn’t know what. 

“So he didn’t see to ya? Didn’t make you finish?” his eyes sparkle as he asks you blatantly. 

“Finish what?” you ask, honestly wondering what Benny was talking about.

“Oh, honey, I’m about to blow your mind,” he pulls you in close, the smile on his face one thick as thieves before he kisses you again. 

“Now, baby girl, are you gonna do what I tell you?”  his voice was like honey’d whisky, smooth and intoxicating, “I promise you won’t regret it.” 

You just nod, heat pooling in your lower belly. You have no idea what is going on with your body.

“You're gonna be my good girl, aren’t you, sugar,” he says as he unbuttons your blouse and pushes it off your shoulders. You are mesmerized by his eyes, the softness of his touch. 

He unsnaps your bra letting it fall to the floor. You automatically cross your arms across your boobs, self-consciously holding your elbows. The light was still on in the bedroom, for Christ’s sake!

Benny sits down on the bed, kicking off his boots. He gently moves your hands apart saying, “Now, now, let me see.” 

He takes your breasts into his hands, thumbs tantalizing your nipples. You let out an involuntary moan, the kind you didn’t know you could make. 

“Good girl, these tits look delicious.” he keeps narrating to you, like you are some anxious racehorse. It’s the most he’s talked all evening, but it soothes you, makes you trust him. 

He takes one into his mouth, your nethers clench and another moan escapes you. Robbie was never like this, never made your breath come short.  Why the fuck are your hips pusling back and forth like this? 

Somehow your jeans are undone and he’s pulling them off. He takes a big inhale at your soft cotton panties.  

“You wet for me, baby girl?” he asks looking up at you with those puppy dog eyes.

“Huh?” you frown at him. 

After poking uselessly at you and making you cringe, Robbie had just spit on his hand and rubbed it on himself in the dark room. He had pushed in hard. It hurt, but your girlfriends had told you it might hurt that first time. You had sorta ignored that first bit the other couple of times.

Benny just shakes his head, smiling. You might as well be a virgin, he thinks. That’s okay with him though.  

Violence is such a normal part of his life that he doesn't even really think twice about taking a punch or giving one. Fuck, if you couldn’t square off against another guy, what the hell kinda man were you? That’s just how it is. 

Some of the guys talk about how they like to hold women down, force them or choke them. They say the girls like it, but Benny doubts that.  The married ones say it’s good to get in and out fast cuz their old lady gets pissed if they take too long. Not Benny though, all that violence needed balance and he found it in the freedom of the road and pleasuring women. Once he found out that they could get their rocks off too, he made it his quiet mission to make sure any girl he’s with has a good fuckin’ time. Most of the chicks he’s fucked had never blown before, just like you. Damn if he’s not gotten a taste for watching a woman explode for the first time. The look he gives you is like a kid in a candy store. 

He hooks his forefingers onto the waistband of your panties and pulls them down. They stick at your crotch, making him moan in appreciation. You quickly look down, embarrassed, worried it might be your period or something. A thin, clear string stretches from your panties to your lips, and breaks when he pulls them to the ground.

“That’s what I mean. What’s got you so wet? Huh, baby girl?” He knows that his motorcycle does this. He doesn’t even begin to think that it could be him, he loves that fuckin’ machine so much, it’s the only thing that makes sense. 

You assume the question is rhetorical.

He leans in and kisses your belly just below your button, “It means I can…”  he lets his fingers finish the sentence, sliding along your wet lips. A shuddered breath sounds from you as he presses two fingers inside you. 

His lip curls, watching your face. Your eyes widen as he pushes deeper, his other hand is wrapped around your hip. 

“Fuck, you are tight, baby girl, we gotta make you ready for me,” lust is written across his face. He’s experimented with finger fucking, with different ways to move in a girl’s pussy. His favorite is waggling his fingers back and forth deep inside, but first he’s gotta spread those juices around, so he moves slowly in and out of you. His lips reach for your nipple and your hands thread through his hair. 

You've never felt like this before. What the hell is he doing to you? Slowly it dawns on you that you’ve been missing out in a big, big way. When he finally pushes in deep and moves his fingers back and forth inside, something fires inside of you. It’s like he’s made you into one of those tension puppets. Y’know the ones where you push the button and it goes all limp. If he didn’t have his other arm wrapped around your ass, you’d have collapsed right there in front of him. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” he holds you up, fingers fucking in and out and hitting that internal button. You moan and hold onto his shoulders. Not sure what you are feeling and why, you only know that it’s good and you don’t want him to stop. 

“Jesus, Benny!” is all you can say, you really do feel like your mind is about to blow.

“See?” he says after a few minutes, “So wet for me, baby.” He pulls out, his grease stained fingers shiny with your juices.  He licks it off with a long tongue. “MMM, I think you are ready for me now.” 

You just nod, he made you feel so good, way better than Robbie ever did, even when you were making out with him. 

Benny stands up from the bed, still fully clothed. And there you are, stark naked in front of him. 

You reach to turn off the lamp on the bedside table, nervous about seeing him naked, you’d never really seen a man naked down there, didn’t really understand what ‘it’ looked like, never even touched Robbie’s in the dark. But Benny grabs your hand, shaking his head. He likes to see. 

He steps to the side, peeling off his grimy shirt, his muscles glistening in the humidity. You’ve seen guys with no shirts, that’s pretty normal, especially in summer. But like, Benny? He was on a whole other level. You didn’t know men had muscles like this. He turns around and catches you staring at him, arms crossed protectively in front of you. You shouldn’t stare, but you do.  

Benny takes your hand and brings it to his belly. It’s all the encouragement you need as you start outlining the muscles on his torso with your fingertips. He unbuttons his levis and they and his boxers drop to the floor. 

You nervously look everywhere but his crotch. 

You hear him chuckling, then his fingers are on your chin, making you look into his eyes. 

“It’s ok, baby girl, you can look,” he moves your hand down to his shaft, “you can touch. It won’t bite.” 

You feel warm, smooth skin under your hand and a hardness under that, like flexed muscle. You look down to see his stiff rod in your palm. You really have no basis for comparison as far as size, but it looks like you could easily stack both your fists around him and still have his pretty pink tip poking out the top. It is pretty too, probably the cleanest part on him. Suddenly, you wonder what it would be like to have that tip in your mouth. You’d heard girls talk about giving head and the thought had made you cringe then, but now you get it. It’s beautiful. 

He breathes in a sharp inhale as you close your fingers around him. You quickly look up at his face, worried that you hurt him somehow. His nostrils flare and he pulls your hand to his mouth, swiping spit from his tongue into your palm, eyes never leaving yours. Normally, someone spitting in your hand would gross you out, but the way he does it and the look in his eyes somehow makes your breath come quick. He wraps your hand around his shaft again, closes his own over yours, gently moving you both back and forth. 

“Is that… is that good?” you ask, not sure what he wants, but wanting to make him feel as good as he made you feel. 

“Yeah,” he breathes, “Just needed to take the pressure off for a little minute.” His hips thrust a little into your hand. 

Yeah, pressure, that’s what it was deep inside you. Weirdly you can feel it now, even though he’s doing nothing to you. It’s like a fountain trying to burst past gravity.

“Ok, baby girl, you ready to have your mind blown?” he asks, hands on your shoulders. 

“There’s more?” he had already made you feel so good, you couldn’t imagine feeling better. 

“Oh, hunny, he really didn’t treat you right at all,” he shakes his head, “I’m gonna punch him in the face if I ever meet him.”

The vision of Robbie laid out on the street with a burgeoning black eye makes you giggle. He was an asshole at the end.

Benny lays you down on the bed, legs hanging over the edge. “I’m gonna get you close before I put this in you.”

“Close to what?” you hope he’s gonna do the finger thing again. You open your legs to him eagerly. 

“You’ll see,” he smiles as he lowers to his knees in front of you, ripping the rubber wrapper open with his teeth. 

You breathe out a sigh and close your eyes as his fingers slide into you again. You feel his other fingers pulling you apart, then something wet presses against your exposed nethers and flicks. 

“What the hell Benny?” you say, curling up and putting your hands on his head. You don’t know whether to be appalled or awestruck, but in an instant it feels so good. He just holds you tighter and buries his face deeper into your muff. Then his fingers start doing ‘the thing’ again and you are lost.  That pressure builds up inside you, fuck it feels so good. Your hips start bucking against his face, your fingers curling and releasing in his blonde mop of windblown hair. 

Just when you don’t think you can take anymore he backs off, leaving you in a 180 of wanting more. 

“Don’t Benny,” your thoughts dissipate as you see him rise to his knees in front of you, his condom-covered cock standing tall. You had no idea when he’d put it on and honestly you’ve never really seen a rubber before today. 

“Don’t what, baby?” he says with a smile. He licks a thick line of spit between his two fingers, then rubs it on his covered tip. 

“Stop,” you breath. He is absolutely gorgeous, you can’t even complete your thoughts, “don’t stop.” 

“Oh no,” he agrees. 

He lifts his chin, and you scoot back onto the length of the bed. He doesn’t even have to speak and you are eagerly following his directions. If he isn’t the devil himself, he’s a close second. You’ve never seen someone so hot and so cool all at once. He climbs up on his knees between your own, stroking his cock. Shit, it looks huge from this angle, if you weren’t so turned on, you’d be scared of it. He reaches down, pulling you apart, spreading you as he guides his cock along your slit. 

He looks at you with one eyebrow up. You nod, wondering if it’ll feel like his fingers or if it’ll hurt. He is barely in you when the pad of his thumb begins to rub circles against you. Fuck, you don’t know what he is hitting, but it’s fucking magic. He pushes his cock in slow, stretching you. It almost burns, but not the way that other guy, whatever his name was, had. It doesn’t hurt at all. The fact that you are so fucking wet is making all the difference.  

“Oh god, Benny!” you hear your own voice saying. You feel so fucking full it’s crazy.

He slides in and out slowly at first, then gets faster as you adjust to him. 

“That’s it, that’s my baby girl,” he croons, “you love it, don’t you? You love being on the end of my dick.” 

“Yeah,” you say without even thinking. 

“Look at that little pussy taking my cock so well,” he murmurs, more for himself. “Reach down here and touch yourself for me,” he demands, pulling your hand down between your bodies.

You are tentative at first not sure where to touch, he continues to push and pull himself in and out of you. Your fingers are drawn to the place where he is entering you. It’s wet and the feeling of his shaft drawing in and out, the friction, it pushes you that much further towards… something. 

“Where do I…?” you ask. You’ve never touched yourself before.

“Wherever it feels good, baby,” he smirks at you. He just knows he’s gonna love what comes next. 

You feel around with your fingertips rubbing until you find the spot. And when you hit it, holy fuck it feels good. You had no idea you could do this to yourself. What the fuck?! How come nobody never told you this?! You are gonna have some things to say to your girlfriends, that is for sure. 

“There it is, just like that, good girl,” he says watching the play of emotions on your face, “don’t you stop.”  

He lays his body down on yours, propped onto his hands.  This close he smells of motor oil, beer, gasoline, cigarettes and something else, something so intensely masculine. For years to come, a whiff of any of these together will make you wet, make you yearn. The filling station will forever be the biggest turn on that you’ll never tell anyone. 

“Now, you keep lookin’ right here,” he whispers against your mouth. “I wanna watch you fall apart on my cock.” His voice pours over your ears, just as much a factor in turning your crank as his face, his fingers, his body, his cock. He is a fuckin’ dream. 

He pumps his hips, staring into your face. You keep rubbing at your pussy. It’s crazy how quickly that pressure builds up again. 

“I, I think I gotta pee or somethin’,” you say, brows furrowed. 

“No you don’t, keep going baby girl, it’s about to happen,” he licks his lips. He is so turned on by you at this moment. It’s hard for him to keep his throbbing cock at a steady pace. He just wants to plow into you.

Your hips start to buck against him, wanting him deeper, harder. Your body starts to just take over, racing to a finish line that you can’t see.  

Benny gives in, thrusting into you harder, his jaw tense with his own control.  Your fingertips slip between your folds and land on a hard nub. It’s like a magic button and you are suddenly shattering under him. You can’t keep your eyes on him, your legs shoot straight, your belly arches against him and your hips shudder. You are writhing on the end of his dick. 

 You hear someone crying out… it’s you. 

“That’s my good girl!” he moans. Watching you cum, writhe, moan, feeling your wetness trickle against his balls is that last straw.

“Fuckin’ yes, yes YES, take my cock, take it all,” he is like a machine in your pussy. Thrusting hard and fast and holy fuck it’s divine, transcendant even, as your body just reacts to the intense pleasure. 

His wild roar is nearly like his motorcycle as he unloads. Sweat on his brow, fingertips leaving tiny indents wherever they land and tighten. His red face is screwed up in authentic and real pleasure. Then he practically collapses on you, his breath panting, your arms are around him, cradling him nearly like a child.  Shakily, he rolls off you and you both lay there trying to catch your breath.

Never in your wildest dreams had you known your body could do this, that feeling like this was a thing. Was it some kind of seizure?

“What the hell was that?” you look over at him, feeling both light as air and wrung out like a rag. 

He reaches for his pack of cigarettes and lights one up. He takes a drag, waits a second and blows out a stream of smoke. 

“That was you finishing, doll,” he smiles, pulling the rubber off and putting it in the trash. 

“I wanna do it again,” you say without thinking, “Can we?” 

“Alright,” he gives you a sly smile around the white roll in his mouth. He steps, digging into his jacket and produces a string of connected red and white sealed packets. 

You go get an ashtray and a couple glasses of water. 

You did it again and again and again. He made you sit on top of him and ride him. It gave the memory of riding his motorcycle a whole new, delicious meaning.  He played with your tits from behind until you begged to be fucked, then he simply pushed you onto all fours and pressed into you from behind. You diddled yourself,  balancing on one arm until you found that magic button. And when you lurched forward, splayed onto the mattress in orgasm, he followed you, pounding into you. By the end, it was the wee hours, he was propped on his elbow next to you, his fingers deep inside you as his cock was utterly spent. You were wantonly spreading your pussy lips and rubbing hard right on your little nub. 

“Yeah, get it, one last good one for me, baby girl,” he was saying around the unlit cig between his lips. He watched as you bucked and squirmed all over his fingers, wetness dripping down his wrist. 

Each position, each time brought you to new heights that you hadn’t imagined.

You never did make him a sandwich.

When you woke late the next morning, only the ashes and butts in the tray and the rubber wrappers on the floor suggested that any of it actually happened. Well that and the delicious ache you felt between your legs. Try as you might, you couldn’t find him anywhere. You braved the bar where you met him, even asked a few guys there, but none of them knew. 

For the rest of your life, anytime you saw a guy on a chopper,  you checked to see if it was him. But it was all in vain. 

Benny was gone. 

[alectoperdita]

Started writing out the cockwarming idea from earlier. Brain's a bit sluggish today, but hoping this part isn't too sloppy. Hacker!Seto is a menace, and hitter!Jou's dick is his favorite toy.

@rainbowwinedemon in case you want a snack

---

Jounouchi did his damn best not to stare at Seto. At his pale thighs. At the tight boxer briefs where he could squint and vaguely make out the shape of his soft cock. If he looked at him any longer, he was going to think intrusive thoughts. Namely about bending Seto over the nearest cleared surface.

"So, uh, you winning?" he asked before taking a desperate swig of his beer.

Seto stalked forward, caging him against the kitchen counter. Anticipation drew goosebumps along Jounouchi's arm and spine. He clutched the neck of his beer bottle tighter, wishing it was Seto's slim hips between his fingers instead.

"The match? Yes. But it was the first round of the tournament."

Jounouchi stifled a groan, but it broke free as Seto trailed a scorching touch down his stomach and across his belt buckle. "So it's gonna be a few more hours then? Why don't I come back later—"

Seto's fingers made short work of his belt, quickly moving onto unzipping his fly. Jounouchi's cock jumped.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, trying desperately not to buck into Seto's efficient yet teasing caresses. "Unless you're looking for a quickie before the next one?"

He preferred to take his time with the man in the the bed in the other room. Feel their naked skins glide together as he worked him into a drooling, gasping mess. But if the choice came down to something quick or nothing at all, he knew what he'd choose.

"The opposite in fact." Seto's lips curled into a devious smile as his fingers closed around his dick. "I figure it'll be more efficient for me to warm your cock while I wipe the floor with the other team."

Blood rushed south so fast it left Jounouchi reeling. Fuck, the idea of Seto's tight ass wrapped around him...

Jounouchi slapped his beer down on the counter. It wobbled briefly, threatening to tip over before settling on its bottom. By then, Jounouchi didn't care if it spilled. He cupped Seto's buttocks, kneading them through his underwear before slipping his finger into his cleft. As expected, he felt a solid silicone base through the cotton. Applying pressure against it forced a breathy moan from Seto.

He ground the butt plug harder into Seto. "What? This ain't enough for you anymore?"

Seto stroked him shamelessly through his boxers, squeezing with his long fingers and swiping his thumb over the head until pre-come leaked. "I'm bored of it. I want something warm. Bigger. More challenging."

His lids fluttered half-shut before he delivered the final blow.

"I want you."

[midnightmah07]

I just saw someone talking about the twst boy's hands headcanons and it wasn't that deep into detail I have a clear image of Ruggie's hands in my head

[kayspaceprinceart]

WIP! Adil feat. a wee redesign because I found some refs for his hair! He looks SO much better now (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)♡ much more like how he does in my head

[rnm-magic-space-xsd]

Credits : Yoki-Fox-C (Deviantart)

[gaysexpng]

oh yeah well if i dont cum on his fingers rn im gonna throw up

[fmhobeus]

fwb!suguru who knew he wanted to fuck when he first laid eyes on you. then wanted to take you out to endless dinners to chat his ears off when he first spoke to you.

fwb!suguru who grew to like you without fucking you, almost forgot it was what he wanted you for – a life together or a night together?

fwb!suguru whose dick got painfully hard when you taunted him, rolled your eyes at him or outwitted him. he lived for your sassiness.

fwb!suguru who happened to fuck you on a random night unexpectedly and it changed the trajectory of his life.

fwb!suguru who stayed after every dick appointment. cuddled with you on the bed, watched movies or your favourite TV show, ordered take out and held you in his arms till you both inevitably fell asleep.

fwb!suguru who couldve sworn he wasn't in love with you. he would still fuck other people (and then come back to you, poor baby was thinking of you the whole time)

fwb!suguru whose grown accustomed to your presence. he calls you when he isn't feeling okay, you call him when something bothers you. he's grown used to you telling him all about work, how you got your nails done, how you saw a cute cat near your apartment. trivial details, which coming from anyone else he would hang up, but he looks forward to them with you.

fwb!suguru who eventually stops fucking other people and is just your man, without you knowing.

fwb!suguru who is determined to mark you up in placed people will notice. your neck, your thighs, your collarbones.

fwb!suguru who believes in giving you his all. all of his long girthy dick that pumps you full it should be criminal, his long slim fingers that have made you orgasm so often and hit that deep spot with unbeat ease, his long tounge... oh god his tounge. he thinks maybe even his long life ahead is yours too, all yours. his little kids too maybe? he doesn't like to think too much about that.

fwb!suguru who has to have your pussy checked with his tounge daily. he has to lap up your insides no matter any circumstances. his voice purrs across your body when he talks you through your orgasm.

"mhmm yeah cum all over my face beautiful, I know you want to"

fwb!suguru who gets sick at the thought of you sitting so pretty for another man when you tell him you're going on a date. suguru who looks so disturbed at the thought of another man even looking at his pretty girl who isn't really his.

fwb!suguru who takes you to corporate events just so he can call you his girlfriend, even if it's just pretend. when you question him it's always "easier explanation than a friend i fuck on the regular, isn't it?"

fwb!suguru who knows how you like your coffee in the morning. he knows what you like for breakfast, your comfort food, your hobbies, your favourite movies, your least favourite movies, your icks, your past. he knows you like he knows himself. he thinks of you when he passes your favourite cafe, he texts you when he sees something in the colour you like.

fwb!suguru who is sure he hasn't felt this way before, who is so vulnerable with you that it scares the shit out of him.

fwb!suguru who is afraid, angered at everything about you. he's angry at how you lull him into a sense of security, how you hold him, how sweet your voice sounds when you call him by his name, how you take care of him, how you listen to him. he hates how your pussy clenches his dick for dear life, milking it dry and how you never let a drop of his cum go to waste, licking it up like a little slut. he's fearful too. about losing you. about where loving you the way he does leads. loving you? wait. he loves you? fuck. fuck. fuck. this hasn't been according to plan at all.

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃 ❞

❝ EVERYONE WANTS SATORU GOJO, SO WHY ARE YOU THE ONE STUCK GUARDING HIM ? ❞

✧ pairing: rich boy! gojo x bodyguard! reader

✧ summary: after the gojo family receives threats to their lives, you're hired to protect the heir to the company, satoru gojo - you just didn't realize how charming the rich heir would be - and just how hard it would be to resist his advances.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, reader is around the same age as gojo (both in their 20s but age is vague), virgin! gojo, switch! gojo, oral (f + m), handjob (m), dry humping, fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), depictions of violence, mentions of yakuza, dirty business dealings, gojo's made up dad and suguru make an appearance

✧ wc: 15,311 (i don't know what to say at this point)

✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 1 has been sold to @forest-hashira and two anons!

“So, is this your first time?”

Satoru Gojo would be the end of you — one way or another. 

One way would be you sacrificing your life to protect him — fairly run of the mill when it came to guarding someone, the risk of putting your life on the line, though the chance of death usually was fairly slim. You had only come close — twice. 

You didn’t care to make it a third. 

The other, increasingly more likely, way was that you would lose your mind to his incessant yammering before you even had a chance to neutralize any threat to his life. 

You nearly spit out your drink at the question, wiping your mouth with a napkin, before managin to choke it down, “Excuse me?” 

And his lips annoyingly curl, “Your first time guarding someone,” 

The heir seemed fairly nonchalant, even after his father had sat the both of you down in a room filled with more security agents than the prime minister of Japan himself had, and had lectured him about the importance of staying with you the entire time and to respect your authority — well one out of two wasn’t bad. He’s eating a piece of cake instead of a meal, his fork digging into the back of the cake again and again, toying with his food as he did with you, “I mean, you seem fairly young, but old enough to be entrusted with my safety,” 

“Well, since you insisted on going to school, your father needed someone unassuming who looked around your age,” you lean against your hand, your other drumming against the table, as your eyes scanned the area — table of frat boys, group of girls sneaking glances at Gojo, various other students, no real threats — unless you counted the girls’ death daggers towards you, “someone who wouldn’t look out of place with you, raise any suspicions, but who could still protect you,” 

His lips curl, as your eyes find their way back to the young heir, “So basically, you had to look like my girlfriend — shouldn’t I hold your hand? Sell the act? All in the name of my safety,” 

You jerk your head towards his group of admirers, “I think what we’re doing now is plenty — unless you’d like your guard to get mauled by a bunch of hormonal college girls,” 

His eyes slid to his adoring fans, as he pities them with a wave, erupting squeals from them, “I think you could take them,”

“How flattering,” you reply drily, picking at the food in front of you, “now finish your lunch so we can get to our next class on time,” 

“Are you still upset that we were late this morning?” 

“No, I’m upset that we missed half the class and I had to take the fall for it,” the heir had oh so kindly told the professor that you had made them run late (even though he was the one who spent far too long in the bathroom). 

And even though you wouldn’t be attending this school for long, you hoped that you wouldn’t have to make yourself look like a fool the entire time you were here — but — your eyes found Gojo’s again — sticking with Satoru Gojo almost made that a guarantee that you would look like a fool — one way or another. 

And you were already the fool — for thinking that a college aged boy would have any real food in his refrigerator. Although, Satoru Gojo was a different breed — instead of alcohol and questionable containers of takeout, there was...sweets. 

So. Many. Sweets.

Not just cookies and candy — but literally six different kinds of mochi (for some reason?) and almost any pastry you could possibly think of was stocked in the house. And the freezer was more of the same — seven different containers of ice cream and one aged bag of edamame stuck in the back. 

“Gojo?” you stare into the open refrigerator, while Gojo lays back on his couch, scrolling on his phone mindlessly. 

“Yeah?” 

“Do you have any food?” 

“What do you mean? The refrigerator is full of food?” and his voice is thick with genuine confusion and you’re almost wondering how this man survived to this age. 

Oh yeah, he’s rich. 

You sigh, closing the refrigerator doors, and striding over to him, only to snatch his phone out of his hands, “Sweets are not real food — how do you eat like this and function?” 

He only shrugs, lips curled into a grin, “I’m just built different,” 

“You mean like a person who won’t make it to age fifty?” you toss his phone back at him, “get up,” you grab your sweatshirt hanging by the door and throw his jacket at him. He barely catches it, as he sits up, his face displeased with your sudden need to get him up. 

“Where are we going?” 

“So,” Gojo says, his hands in his pockets, as you both walk the aisles of the grocery store, “why did I have to come with you?” 

“Because I’m going to show you how to actually shop for groceries, so you don’t have a heart attack and die before my stint with you is up,” you grab essentials and basics — oil, rice, cereal, pasta, spices, flour, sugar (although did he really need sugar with the amount he was already consuming?), “you know it would suck if my client died before we eliminated the other threats on his life,” before you add with a smile, “though I think your eating habits are more likely to kill you,” 

“You know men really hate sarcastic women,” he bites back, before something catches his eye in the aisle and he places it in the cart, “major turn off,” 

“Well, mission accomplished then,” you roll your eyes, as you look back at the cart to see a box of cookies, “you know when I said you were a moron, I was half kidding, but now,” you lift up the box of cookies, “you have a million cookies at home,” 

He pouts — why do you feel like a mother refusing their child their candy at checkout? — “Not these ones,” you take the box and put it back on the shelf where it belonged, and he relents. 

“Did you eat like this before college?” 

He shook his head, “My meals were prepared for me by the chef at my home, I never really had much of a say in what I ate, or anything really,” and you shake your head, “my father wasn’t really the type to let me handle anything on my own — thus the need for a babysitter,” 

You nod, “So no one really taught you how to take care of yourself?” and he shakes his head. 

“Guess not, but I guess no time like the present to learn,” he examines the box of baking powder you had just placed in the cart, “like what this is,” and you snort, taking the box from him and placing it back in the cart. 

“Maybe by the end of this trip, we’ll have you making it past the age of forty,” 

He raises an eyebrow, “I thought you said fifty?” 

“The cookies made me lose more faith in you,” 

The two of you continue to shop, as you help him pick out vegetables, meat, and other necessities for the house. You separate the things for you and for him meticulously, as the two of you head over to the checkout, and he’s placing everything on the conveyor belt together, including your own things, “No wait, those are mine—” 

“Consider it payment,” he stops you, as you continue to try to argue, but he’s only blocking you from the conveyor belt with a raised arm, a real smile on his lips, “just let me do this for you,” And you can’t find any words, so your mouth shuts, and you nod — as you watch him speak with the older cashier with his patented charm. 

And the cashier stops you right as you’re leaving, whispering, “That’s a good one, don’t let him go, ok?” and you pause, her words sinking in as blood rushes to your cheeks. 

“We’re not—” 

“I know,” the older woman chuckles far too knowingly, as she hands you the receipt, “but you never know.” 

“You coming?” Gojo calls, turning to look back at you, as he pushes the cart of groceries, and you look from the cashier to him, before fleeing with a quick ‘thank you.’ 

And as you go home, you glance at Gojo, maybe there was more to him than you initially thought. 

“This is so boooooring,” Gojo’s whining for, what you assume is, the billionth time, “I hate philosophy, moral arguments? It’s such bullshit,” 

“You know philosophy is literally a subject that encompasses everything right?” you tilt your head watching him lay on the floor as the two of you sit at the table, his head right next to you, as you sit cross legged, “there’s no avoiding it in life,” 

“Well can’t I avoid it in school at least? Because college feels very different from real life,” and you roll your eyes, flicking him between the eyes. 

“Just write your paper, I already finished mine,” and he perks up. 

And he slides his laptop over to you, “Then you can write mine,” 

“That’s not happening,” and he groans again, “you know if you spent all the time that you whined working on your paper then you’d be done,” 

“Were you this much of a buzzkill when you were in college?” Gojo stares at you, “what do you even do for fun?” 

“Why is this relevant to you writing your paper?” 

“Why is writing my paper relevant to protecting my life?” and you open and close your mouth, “c’mon give me something, anything,” 

“How about this — when you finish a page, I’ll answer a question, any question,” you offer, and he grins, as he sits up and begins to type away at his laptop. 

You sit back, lying back and using your phone, until about fifteen minutes later when he’s holding his laptop up, showing you that he completed a page, “That fast?” you’re skeptical, and then you grab his laptop, skimming the page, wondering if he was trying to trick you — he wasn’t. It was good, more than good — it was a wonderful discussion of deontological ethics. 

“How did you finish this so fast?” you raise an eyebrow, “you complain so much, but you wrote this page far too quickly,” 

He shrugs, “I’m good at everything, sweetheart,” and you roll your eyes, “jealous?”

“Totally,” you scoff, before grinning,  “so get back to work,” and he gapes at you, before groaning dramatically, lying back on the floor again. 

“Ugh, this is too much work,” he whines again, “I don’t know why I had to take this stupid class,” he grumbles. 

“Then why did you?” you scroll through your phone, checking for any new alerts or updates from his father or any other member of the security team, “you have a choice in what classes you sign up for, don’t you?” 

And for one of the first times, you saw Satoru’s playfulness ebb away, replaced with almost a bitterness — as bitter as his words were usually sweet, “Maybe most college kids do, but I don’t have a choice in most of the things I do, including the classes I pick,” 

You tilt your head, “Your father?” And he nods, “did you even choose your major?” 

His eyes drift to the ceiling, “Is it a choice when your father tells you you’re either being groomed to run his company when you graduate or he’s not paying for you to go to school at all?” 

“No, it isn’t,” you admit, “but it could be worse, he could have stuck you with a glorified babysitter on top of it,” 

He cracks a smile, “I don’t know, maybe I have a thing for babysitters,” and you roll your eyes, cracking a smile. 

“Get back to work.” 

“Fuck,” Satoru muttered, watching the rain come down as he waited outside the university awning of the building he had just finished his class in. You had left him to go to class by himself — you trusted him enough not to get murdered while in class and on the walk back (high praise) — and said you’d likely just meet him back at the apartment. But now, he didn’t know how he’d get home without getting soaked. 

He checks his phone for any rideshares nearby, but there were none. And he would rather go drown in the rain than call his father’s driver, and guarantee a lecture about being prepared for “any given situation.” 

Shit. Maybe he would just risk walking. 

So he did. The rain soaked through his clothes all too quick, the wet fabric clinging to his skin, and the cold leeching the warmth from his body. And he couldn’t help but think if you were with him, you would have remembered to bring an umbrella. 

Weird, when did he ever really rely on anyone else? 

Yes, his father had maids, cooks, and personal shoppers when he was growing up — but they weren’t people he relied on — he did, but it was expected. It was their job. And yes, he was a job for you too — but…it was different. 

Satoru didn’t know when it happened but he had gotten used to your presence in his life. Whether it was at home or in class, you were always there. And it wasn’t as annoying as he thought it would be. It was…nice to have someone there to lean on. But, as he glanced up at the storm clouds, holding a hand above his eyes — rolling dark clouds with no signs of the rain letting up — this would be his reality once the threats were a distant memory. 

“Gojo!” He blinks, his eyes snapping forward, and he sees someone coming over the horizon. 

It was you — umbrella in hand, as your footsteps echoed with the splashes of water from the rain that collected on the ground. And you found your way to him, holding the umbrella over his head. He stared at you as you grew closer, wondering if you were real. And he wasn’t surprised you found him —

“How did you know?” He asks when you stand, catching your breath, short pants, as your eyes flicker up to his. 

“You always forget your umbrella, so I figured you needed one,” you shrugged, “plus I finished my meeting early so I came to get you,” and he only stares at you, “what?” 

And he only shakes his head, as he takes the umbrella from your hand, fingers brushing, as he holds it up over the both of you, your shoulders brushing as you begin to walk home. And he found himself wishing for a split second that the threats would never stop. 

“Just wondering if it’s in your job description to protect me from colds too,” and you snort, lips curling into the same smile he loved to see. 

“With you? It is.” 

“A party?” 

“Yes, known as a gathering of people where—” 

“I don’t need you to define the word,” you grit your teeth, as you watch him pull out shirts from his closet, holding them up, before shrugging, “do you know the kind of danger you could put yourself in by going?” 

“I know, the party might go into a frenzy at the sight of me, think of all the students who’d glare at you then,” he grins, as he finally settles on an outfit — charcoal gray shirt and a blue button down, “might have to call another bodyguard to guard you instead, princess,” 

“Aren’t you the princess if you’re the one being guarded?” you bite back, and he only laughs, hands in his pockets, “Gojo, you have serious threats that have been levied—” 

“Against my father—” 

“And you, the heir to your father’s company,” you cut him off, crossing your arms, “are you seriously going to risk our lives because you want to get drunk and fuck around with a bunch of idiots?” 

The answer was yes, of course. 

And now here you were, stuck babysitting this spoiled heir at a party. You hadn’t really been to any parties — hadn’t bothered to. You had gotten through college at a young age, perks of skipping a few grades, and you ended up in the family business regardless — so you didn’t bother to party much. Not when you had things to accomplish — babysitting a drunk heir wasn’t one of them. 

It has started as you expected. Gojo had flitted away from your side the first moment he got, disappearing into the throng of horny and drunk college students. You wove your way through the crowd, careful not to trip over the students making out, dancing, or drinking on nearly any available surface. The smell of beer and cheap cologne wafted through this dorm. And you had almost given up on finding him when you spotted him stuck to the sides of three girls, all of them far too eager to hang off his every word. 

You sighed, this was going to be a long night. 

“You one of Satoru’s girlfriends?” you glance to your side and see Suguru Geto in person. You had learned all about Satoru Gojo and the people he hung around. Like those three girls — one of them had a long distance boyfriend, the other had a cheating situationship she was trying to make jealous, and the other just wanted to fuck him for the experience. Suguru Geto was one of the only friends of Gojo you had liked from what you had read about him — humble background, on scholarship at the college, but one of the best students here — and a philosophy student of all things, the very subject his best friend hated. 

You want to say no, but unfortunately, you have no idea what the idiot has been saying to other people, “Something like that,” you sip at your drink to make the bitter words slide down, “why? Are you?” 

A chuckle slips past his lips, as he takes a swig of his drink, “Well I already like you better than the others. You have a sense of humor and seemingly more than two brain cells,” 

“Don’t give me too much credit,” you snorted, leaning against a wall, “I did end up here after all,”

“Fair enough, how’d he convince you to come?” And you shake your head — good question. What choice did you really have? You could have let him go alone, but probably not a good look 

“I don’t even know honestly, feel like I’ve been dragged here to make sure he doesn’t do something stupid,” you glance at him and the gaggle of girls, “though maybe I already fucking failed at that,” 

Geto shrugs, as his gaze slips from Gojo to you, “I mean until he sticks his tongue down one of their throats, I think you’re doing pretty well,” 

You laugh, “Good to know,” and you both continue to chat, and unbeknowst to you, while your focus is torn away from Gojo, his attention is fully on you. 

If looks could kill, Satoru imagined his crystal eyes were nothing more than daggers ready to strike, as he watches you and Suguru talk. 

It was his fucking idea to come to this party, so why were you having more fun than he was?

He swirled his drink miserably — he had barely taken a sip of the beer poured for him — why would he when it tasted like piss? He didn’t understand why people liked to drink — especially when they could eat mochi instead — but now, as he stares at you and Suguru, maybe he was starting to understand. 

He can’t hear what either of you are saying over the blaring music and the chatter of students surrounding him, but he can see the smile on your lips and the laugh that left them. 

Why the fuck do you look so happy to talk to Suguru? 

You seemed so bored when he was with you—and did you just fucking laugh again at something Suguru said? 

The crinkle of plastic and the distinct feeling of a spill made his gaze snap to his hand — he just crushed his plastic drink cup. He sighed, as he simply placed it among the other abandoned drink cups on a nearby table, before wiping off his hand with a napkin. 

Why did he even care? You were nothing but a nuisance anyway. All you did was follow him around, make him go to class on time, make sure he was safe, care about his well-being— 

What the fuck was he thinking? 

His eyes couldn’t help but slide back to you as he tried to enjoy the girls' company, their slight touches and soft pouts and sweet words not going unnoticed by him. But that was how it always was. Once people found out he was rich, people wanted to be his friend, they wanted to date him, they wanted him — but not really him, they wanted his money. 

First world problems, right? 

But you — you hadn’t been like that. You were irritatingly punctual, unfazed by his money, didn’t care in the slightest about his father or who he was — you just wanted to do your job. And he was your job, for the time being. 

And now he got to see you smile — your lips perfectly curled in a smile that both he wanted to see all the time and grated on his nerves — but you were smiling at someone else. And Suguru no less. 

“C’mon Satoru, you gonna make eyes at your boyfriend all night?” Aiko said, nudging him teasingly, her words far too slurred. 

“Help us finish these shots,” Yumiko whines, as she offers him a shot, urging it into his hands. 

He’s grimacing, he hates alcohol — he hates how he feels during and after; he hates the disgusting, metallic taste; and if it couldn’t get worse, he’s a lightweight. He stares at the shot. 

“It’s just one shot,” Misaki grins, holding up her own, clinking hers to his, “you’re already three shots behind everyone else,” 

And he’s about to open his mouth to refuse — make up an excuse of having to wake up early or stomach being unsettled — and that’s when you catch his attention. You were laughing now, a noise far too pretty for his liking, as you shoved Suguru’s chest playfully. 

Fuck it. 

He downs the shot, the liquid searing down his throat, dragging down until it settles in a burning pool in his stomach. Finally he tears his gaze away as the girls offer him another shot — as you grin at Suguru — this was going to be a long night. 

“Hey,” Geto jerks his head, “you might want to deal with that,” 

You whip your head around. 

“Oh what the—“ 

Gojo was hanging all over the girls he was with, barely able to stand on his two feet, as he swayed from side to side — his cheeks glowed with the telltale glow that told everyone he had been drinking (if that wasn’t obvious by literally everything else). 

Fuck. 

You had kept an eye on him. You swore he had only taken two shots of alcohol, how was he this drunk already? You examine and sniff the two shot glasses he used — no peculiar smell or residue — you run through the gamut of tests you could do on hand and conclude two things: 1) Gojo wasn't drugged and 2) he was a lightweight. 

But that didn’t stop him from acting like he wasn’t, as girls egged him on to take more shots, and from the way they were eyeing him, their intentions were anything but pure. 

You sigh, walking over, slipping past a drunk couple making out, a person passed out and sleeping on the floor, and a cluster of cheering onlookers as a student chugged what you can only assume was a disgusting concoction of alcohol. 

Until you finally reached his side. 

“I think you’ve had enough, isn’t that right, Satoru?” And he’s blinking at you, before he’s grinning, slurring your name.

“You’re no fun,” and he’s clinging all over you, his hands curled around your waist, “such a buzzkill, don’t even like to have any fun with me,” 

“Looks like you had too much fun without me,” you murmur, your arm slinks around the middle of his back, “let’s get you back to your dorm,” 

“Hey he’s fine, he’s having fun with us,” Aiko glared at you, a hiccup leaving her lips, “don’t go crashing our good time because he’s not interested in you,” 

“Yeah why don’t you go hang out with Geto or whatever? We’ll take good care of him. C’mon Toru, let’s go to my place in Shibuya, I have a huge house there,” Yumiko says, barely coherent, and you raise your eyebrows at the nickname, as she leans in to whisper, alcohol wafting off her breath, as she lifts up her middle finger, “fuck off,” 

Honestly the only reason you can understand the gist of what she meant was because of her middle finger. Their other friend is passed out on the couch. 

“I don’t think any of you can even care for yourselves,” you scoff, and Satoru is hanging all over you already, mumbling words you can’t make out in your ear, “I’m taking him home, you should take your friend home,” 

“Geto, wanna help me out?” And Geto nods, trying to take Gojo other arm, but Gojo pushes him away, instead clinging to you, you stumble a moment before catching both of you, “Gojo—“ 

“No, wanna go home with just you,” he’s officially whining, and you’re having flashbacks to the summer you spent babysitting, but — you look at the drunk white porcupine clinging to you — somehow this idiot is worse than the kid. 

You sigh, “Geto, make sure that girl gets home safe,” you gesture to the one passed out on the couch, “I’m going to deal with this one,” 

Geto stares at the two of you, the far too tall Satoru hunched over onto your body, “Can you—“ 

But you’re already walking away, able to drag Gojo away with relative ease (it’d be far easier if he’d pull his own weight, but at least he was quiet). 

That was, until you got outside. And then the whining began again. 

“How can you treat me like this?” Gojo’s hands cling to your arm, his face buried in your shoulder, “you shouldn’t ignore the one you’re supposed to protect!” and he’s shaking his head like a petulant child, his bottom lip quivering. 

“You’re the one who left my side, not the other way around,” you grumble, as he’s finally beginning to walk by himself but he’s still stuck to your side like an overgrown cactus, “you’re the one who wanted to go to this goddamn party,” 

“Yeah but you’re the one who's supposed to protect me,” he pouts, as he stops right in front of his building, “I can’t do your job for you,” and he’s finally standing in front of you, his cheeks and nose still flushed from the alcohol, his hand still clutching at yours, “do you even know how to do your job?” 

You grit your teeth. Would punching the person you’re hired to protect be a breach of contract? You rub your temples, it may come to that. 

“You’re an idiot,” you jerk your hand away, shaking your head, “my job is to protect you, not to stop you from doing stupid college boy shit,” 

He’s crossing his arms, “I could have been in danger — what if that alcohol was poisoned? I feel really sick,” he grips, holding his stomach with pursed lips, and you’re thoroughly unimpressed. 

“I looked at it, it wasn’t poisoned,” you raise an eyebrow, before sighing, and shrugging your shoulder bag off your shoulders, rooting around in the pouch, “but if you want, I have something in my bag that will turn your stomach inside out and we’ll be sure to get the poison out,” 

“Nooooo, no! I’m fine,” he’s shaking his head, his voice grows soft, “I just need to get to bed,” he mutters, and you roll your eyes, but grab him by his wrist. 

“Come on, we’re going inside,” and it’s a struggle to get to his apartment — more like a luxury penthouse — on the top floor, but somehow you get him inside and shepherd into his bedroom. And he’s shrugging off his button up before pulling off the shirt underneath. 

Your gaze snaps away, cheeks burning, your eyes trying to erase the glimpse of his fucking unfairly chiseled physique — complete a surprisingly broad chest and shoulders — how the fuck was that hiding under his clothes? He looked like a stick normally with his clothes on. 

“See something you like?” he’s snickering, as you hear the click of his belt and the and sounds of rustling — assuredly stepping out of his jeans. 

“No, just not used to clients stripping for me,” you turn your back to him, as you hear the creak of the mattress and the crinkling of his comforter and sheets. 

“Am I just a client to you?” his words were still mildly slurred, and you knew he’d be pouting if he had enough brain cells to do so, “you can turn around, I’m under the covers,” he adds with a grumble. 

You turn and see him curled up under his blanket and you have to bite back your smile — now he most assuredly looked like one of the kids you used to babysit. 

“Well what else am I supposed to see you as, Gojo?” you cross your arms, and he’s muttering under his breath, “what?” 

“That’s just it. You don’t even call me by my first name,” he’s brooding, face twisted in a scowl, “I don’t have a lot of people I trust. Most people are just after my money or my looks,” he looks at you, “you’re different. Kinda weird,” 

You quirk an eyebrow, “is that a good thing?” 

“Well I trust you,” he admits, and you note the tips of his ears barely visible outside the comforter are red — is it still the flush from the alcohol? “I don’t really have many of those,” 

And you’re taken aback — you thought you were nothing but a nuisance to this party obsessed prince, but maybe there was more to him than you thought. You toyed the ring on your finger, maybe you had more in common than you thought. 

“Thank you, I’m glad you do, because you can, trust me that is,” you say softly, “good night, Satoru.” 

And he does sleep after that, as you spend the night keeping watch, half to ensure his safety and the other to make sure he slept on his side in case he threw up

(and he did, twice). 

“I need to talk to you,” Suguru Geto barely looked up from his phone when he saw Satoru in front of him, his best friend looking more irritable than usual — his usually bored affect seemed to be on holiday, “Suguru?” 

“I heard you the first time, what is it?” and Satoru snatches the phone from Suguru’s hands, “what the fuck—“ 

“What were you doing last night?” and Suguru tilts his head, before rubbing his temple.

“Give me my fucking phone—“ 

“What did you talk to her about?” And Suguru stares at him, his brow furrowed, smart mouth ready with a reply about a stint in a spa or a retreat was needed before his lips curl. 

“Oh. Her,” and he’s leaning back, a lazy shrug, “this and that,” 

“Cut the shit, Suguru, do you like her or not? Did you get her number?” And Satoru is trying to unlock Suguru’s phone, as Suguru watches with a tilt of his head and a wry grin on his lips, “huh? what is it?” 

“So you like her, that much is clear,” and he’s crossing his arms, “I assume you didn’t tell her or you wouldn’t have come in swinging and stealing?” 

Satoru stares at him, slack jawed and cheeks turning a deep pink that only carnations could rival, “No! She’s just a…friend of the family, and she’s not supposed to be with—“ 

“She told me she liked you,” his heart catches, mouth falling open, before Suguru’s lips curl, “well, she said that she was one of the many, rather,” 

Satoru’s cheeks burn, “It’s not like that, she barely even fucking looks at me. Can you believe that? Me?” and he gestures up and down his body. 

“I see your ego is still intact,” Suguru scoffs, shaking his head, before leaning back on his palms, “just tell her how you feel, Satoru, what’s the problem?” 

“The problem is I have no idea how she feels and it’s all your fault!” And Suguru raises an eyebrow, “you charmed her and I’m sure you’re the only one she’s thinking about now,” he covers his face, “and after what I said to her last night…” he couldn’t believe he admitted that you were the one of the only ones he trusted. And he called you weird. 

He honestly didn’t know what was worse. 

“What did you even say?” 

“Say to who?” and Satoru turns, finding you standing behind him, arms crossed. 

And Satoru cuts Suguru off before he can say a thing, “Not important. What are you doing here—“ you grab him by the wrist, a wave of heat makes his nearly burn red as you begin to drag him away, “what are you—“ 

“Bye Geto,” you say, waving at the raven haired student, before taking Geto’s phone and tossing it back to him, “I’m taking the idiot—“ 

“HUH?” 

“Good luck. He might need to be fed — he’s in a mood,” and he waves back, same smile on his lips. 

“What did you two do, adopt me?” Satoru grumbles as you pull him away, “where the hell are you dragging me? How did you even find me?” 

“The post hangover suits you well, we have to get to class, and I placed a tracker on you,” and he’s jerking his hand away, staring at you, “I have to be able to find you, don’t I?” 

“Where?” 

You tilt your head, “Why would I tell you? Don’t worry about, I’ll remove it after we’re done here,” 

You weren’t going to budge on this — and if he argued more, you would take it up with his father. And he would like to avoid that as much as possible. He sticks his hands in his pockets, , “I’m tired, can’t you just go and take notes for me?” 

“I thought you’d be more concerned about the threats against your life, instead of sending your bodyguard off to your class for you” you hiss, and he’s pouting again, unable to meet your gaze, “what’s your problem, Satoru?” 

And he pauses, the retort on lips dying as his brain looped in an infinite spiral of his name on your lips, “You called me ‘Satoru,’”

You tilt your head, “you told me to last night,” and then you add with a wicked grin, “remember? When you said I was one of the only people you trusted,” you tease, but he’s too busy hearing his name repeat in his head again and again, “Satoru—“ 

“Better be careful, sweetheart,” his lips curl into that annoyingly charming smile, “keep calling me by my first name and I may fall for you,” 

You glare at him, before rolling your eyes, “I see you’re feeling better now,” you walk forward, glancing back at him, “you coming?” 

And his wrist tingles still tingle from your touch, his lips quirk into a smile, “Yeah.” 

“Why did you become a bodyguard?” Satoru asks you, the movie you had haphazardly chosen still ongoing had all become background noise while you spoke, the illumination from the television screen being the only thing that kept your faces lit in the dark living room (he had insisted on shutting the lights off for an “authentic movie watching experience”). 

It had been a few weeks, with no signs of the threat posed ever being eliminated — still new threats were being made, and the Gojo family was still on edge. 

But you were on edge for a whole other reason. 

His fingers were still shoved in the bag of kettle corn he had been snacking on this entire time, but you could feel his gaze on you, instead of the movie. 

“What do you mean?” your eyes slide to him, as your phone’s ringer goes off with a spam email, and you silence it, keeping it on vibrate for emergencies, “and what’s with the sudden question?” 

The two of you had settled into your routine — days spent in class, meals shared, grocery shopping, and nights spent either in or out — but again, always together. And, it wasn’t bad — some of it was fun, to the point you almost forgot you were working. 

But you were working. Even now, as your legs are thrown up on the couch, crossed underneath you, your knee brushing against his thigh. 

He shrugs, “You owe me a question, remember?” and he reminds you of your promise from weeks ago — you had wondered why he had never asked you anything that night, “You never talk about yourself. You implied you have your degree, but not much else. From what I’ve seen of you, you’re intelligent — you could have done anything, why this?” and his lips curl into that mischievous, “unless you just had to guard me when you found out it was me,” 

You toss a throw pillow at him, but he catches it with ease, “If only your body was as bulletproof as your body,” and he huffs out a laugh, as you sigh, “why are you interested anyway?” 

“Because I am,” you scoff. 

“Nice reasoning,” he only grins, a thousand watt even in the dark. 

“I thought so,” and he’s holding the pillow to his chest, “c’mon, can you not tell me even one thing about yourself?” 

He wasn’t going to let this go was he? And you relent, chewing on your lip, “My family has been in this business for years — my grandfather, my father, my uncles, and my cousins, and I wanted to be one too. To protect people — it’s a lot more work than it seems. It’s quick thinking, critical reasoning, and analytical skills. It’s all I ever wanted to do after watching my dad do it,” you say softly, “but he didn’t think I was capable of it. He thought I was too soft. Too weak. So I decided to prove him wrong,” 

“You weak? Has your father met you?” and you huff a laugh, “I’m serious,” his cerulean pools meeting yours with not a ripple of hesitancy in them, “I’ve seen you — I don’t I’ve met anyone this determined, or stubborn,” he adds with a smirk. 

“I’m stubborn?” you gape at him, “this coming from the king of stubborn,” 

“Only if you’ll be my queen,” and you roll your eyes, but your cheeks burn, as your gaze turns back to the movie — why did your heart catch at his words? “but trust me, I’m very flexible in other aspects,” 

“Oh my god, is every other sentence that leaves your mouth a pick-up line?” and he opens his mouth, “don’t say ‘only for you,’ or I will be the only threat you have to worry about,” 

“Promise?” you grab another pillow, but he catches your wrist before you can toss it. Your breath catches, and you can’t meet his gaze — you can’t, because you know if you do— but then he whispers your name. 

And you can’t help it. You look at him. His eyes are so pretty. They were really the first things that struck you when you met him — that was before he opened his mouth. They looked like they contained multitudes, a far too beautiful ocean tucked behind sunglasses and an irritated scowl. But it wasn’t a secret that Satoru Gojo was attractive — especially not when every other person glared at you for simply being in his presence. But physical attractiveness meant little if a person wasn’t good — because superficiality could only take you so far. 

And you knew what it was like to be only judged superficially — and by the way Satoru’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes when these people chatted him up, he was far too used to it. 

And once he did speak, you had written him off as another rich kid — you had seen them a dime a dozen throughout your schooling and from the people your family was protected to hire. But there was something about him — something you couldn’t quite shake, even though every part of you was telling to do so. 

“What is it, Satoru?” And his fingers tug you a little closer, gently, his hand loose enough for you to slip away, but you don’t. Why don’t you? 

“You don’t always have to have your guard up,” his voice is soft, far too soft for the far too loud heir, “it’s okay to open up,” 

You shake your head, but still unable to pull away, “It’s dangerous,” and he laughs, a sound that only warms the thin icy barrier between you both, melting it to nothing. 

“Isn’t danger the whole reason we met?” And now his thumb brushes up and down against your wrist, and you wonder if he can feel your pulse roaring just underneath. 

You pull away again, shaking your head, as you cross your arms, trying to hold your resolve together, “I can’t do my job if I’m distracted,” and you couldn’t, even now, you weren’t evaluating any risks, you weren’t trying to find the source of the threats — no, you were too busy trying not to inch closer to your client, trying not to look at his lips, trying not to give in to what you wanted. 

“And I’m a distraction?” he looks far too pleased, but a thought seems to sour his smirk, “I thought Suguru was more of one,” and his lips are caught in a slight pout. 

“Geto was just keeping me company while you entertained those girls hanging on your every word,” you can’t dull the point to your words, and it replaces his pout with a grin. 

“So you were jealous,” 

“You’re the one who was jealous — you could have killed Suguru with your glare alone,” 

“But you didn’t deny it,” and it makes you stop — why didn’t you deny it? 

“I can’t do this,” and you’re pulling away, before flicking off the tv and rising from the couch your phone in hand, turning towards the hallway, “it’s late we should go to bed—“ but he’s catching your wrist again, “Gojo—“ 

“Satoru,” he corrects, and you hated how gentle his fingers felt around your wrist, “how are you supposed to protect me if you’re too busy running away from me?” 

“I’m great at multitasking,” and he’s drawing closer to you, his soft footfalls against the carpet, even as you step away from him, “my job is to protect you, we can’t get distracted—“ 

“I thought you were so good at multitasking,” he chuckles, his fingers find your wrist again, slipping to intertwine with your own, fingers interlaced, and your phone falls from your fingers and onto the couch, “what I said that night when I was drunk was true — I don’t have a lot of people I trust. People don’t understand. They put me on a pedestal or they don’t want me, they want the concept of me — not the reality,” 

“I’m not licensed as a therapist you know,” and he’s sighing. 

“Do you always have to deflect with humor? Because if we both do that, we’ll never get through a conversation,” and he squeezes your hand, “which I guess I don’t mind if that means you’ll stay,” 

“Satoru—“ 

“We don’t have to do anything now — we don’t have to do anything at all,” and you can feel his words warming your skin, “but don’t you feel something?” 

You hesitate, and you can’t look at him,  “No, I don’t,” 

“You’re not a very good liar — don’t they teach you that in bodyguard academy?” 

You snort, holding your head, “Is that where you imagined I got my training done?”

“Well, you don’t exactly like to share, now do you?” he’s stepping forward again, and you can’t bring yourself to run away anymore. 

“I shouldn’t,” and you hear the faint sound of his breath hitching, “but I do,” 

You don’t need to look at him to hear the smile on his lips, “so maybe it’s a distraction worth having,” 

“But—” and he’s gently turning you to face him, his fingers brushing a stray hair from your face, heat blooming with his touch, “Satoru…” 

“Why do you keep saying my name when you know I like hearing it?” he’s teasing, but you’re not shying away from his touch, as his fingers cup your chin now, upwards, so you meet his gaze, “maybe we should have had you pretend to be my girlfriend,” 

You chuckle, “Oh I could see that going wrong in so many ways,” and he’s leaning even closer, as he’s left the line you’d drawn far behind, marred it with his touch, and is luring you over to stumble over the edge with him. 

“Is this one of them?” 

“Probably,” and his lips brush against yours — he tastes sweet, the taste of kettle corn lingers, as his fingers cup your cheek now, and find purchase on his shoulder. It’s brief, a soft press that leaves you far too breathless, as if his touch had taken the air from your lungs, only to leave heat behind, “definitely,” 

“Is that a good thing or—” and your lips find his this time, a gasp you swallow with a smirk, and he melts into your touch, eager fingers grasping at the front of his shirt. And he responds in kind, his fingers tracing a path, as they tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before his hand settles on the back of your neck. 

His touch set every nerve ending on fire — a desperate wildfire that burned a trail across your mind and body — leaving only the crave of his touch behind, that left you wanting more, needing more.

“Was that good?” you murmur, as you take in your handiwork, his pink lips were bitten red by your kisses, his marble skin a lovely flush, and his gaze far too needy. God, it’s far too easy to get lost in him — pull your anchor from the shore and get lost in his gaze and touch, “god I shouldn’t ask that, we shouldn’t be doing this—” but your body refuses to pull away, and you don’t think by the grasp he has on you, that you’d be able to anyway.��

But he only gives you the same answer to each of your statements — he kisses you again, slower and more languid this time, as the two of you walk towards the bedroom, your hands reaching for each other and the walls, as you both stumble into his bedroom. 

“We don’t—” he says, between kisses, “I didn’t—” 

“I didn’t either, but—” you can’t stop touching him, you don’t want to, despite the logical part of you screaming at you to leave his room, it’s overridden by just how much you want him. He’s frustrating, he’s an idiot, he’s sweet, he’s cute, and he’s a little pathetic — but you liked that in a man. Every sense of logic is screaming at you to stop — but it all turns to white noise  “but I don’t want to stop.” 

He’s grinning as he pulls you into another kiss, his arms wrapping around his waist, pressing you against him, “That addicted already?” lips parting as he kisses down your neck, pulse jumping under his touch. 

“You’re just lucky Geto didn’t get to me first,” and he furrows his brow, before his teeth graze against the juncture of your neck and shoulder, drawing a gasp from your lips, “Satoru, what was that for—”  

“So everyone knows you’re mine? Including Suguru,” he’s sucking lightly at the mark, soothing his tongue, “and I’ll make sure he knows,” 

“Oh, I trust you’ll be subtle,” and he’s guiding you towards his bed, both of you falling onto it, his knee pressing your legs apart, as he hovers over you, his ocean gaze dark as a storm ridden sea. 

“Oh you know me, princess,” and his knee presses against your clothed cunt, rubbing against it teasingly, “subtlety is my specialty,” 

“Subtle as a truck,” you murmur, and he’s laughing as he kisses you again, making your lips curl, as his hands slide up your sides, squeezing your hips, “Satoru, please,” 

“What’s the fun if I don’t get to tease you?” he’s kissing needy kisses to your neck, as his knee doesn’t relent, grinding lightly against your increasingly wet core, slick leeching through the thin material of your shorts, “gotta make sure you want it right?”

“You treat all the people you bring home this well?” and he’s pausing, lips against your neck, “I didn’t mean anything—” 

“You’re the first,” you stare up at him, and he’s hesitant for once when usually he’s always barreling forward, “I’ve never brought anyone here,” and he licks his lips, a deeper flush settling over his porcelain skin, “I’ve never actually—” 

And you blink, “Really?” 

He huffs, “Is it that surprising—” 

“I mean a little, from the way everyone acts around you, and the way you act—” 

“Well, ‘act’ is the key word, now isn’t it?” he’s licking his lips as he looks down at you, “it’s easy to act when you know what they expect from you — a role to play,” 

“Well, the role’s been filled, so how about you just be yourself for me?” you murmur softly, a featherlight touch as you trace the curve of his jaw, and his lips find his smile under your delicate touch, “so I can ask, is this your first time like you asked me?” 

And he’s leaning up to kiss you, your hand resting against his chest, his heartbeat galloping under your touch, “And if I said yes?” 

You smile, before flipping him onto his back, his gaze wide as he stares up at you, “Then we better make it memorable.” 

“Please, I want to—“ his soft pants left his perfect lips, chest heaving as your fingers curled around his erection, far too hard from just what you had done. You’d stripped yourself and him bare — your inhibitions left far behind — as your lips kissed the tip of his aching cock.

“Lemme make you feel good, Satoru,” you murmur, looking up at him with fluttering eyes, your fingers smearing his pre cum along his length, and he’s pressing his head into the pillow, “s’big, can’t wait to feel you inside me,” you murmur, and you slowly pump him, drawing moan after moan from his lips. 

“Won’t last long—can’t—“ he’s biting his lip, his hips thrusting into your touch, before your lips suck at his tip again, and he’s gone, cumming hard all over your face and fingers. God, it never felt that good when he touched himself. Your fingers even brushing against him made him want to cum almost instantly, your soft touch and lips were enough to send him over the edge over and over again.  

He’s panting, eyes fluttering open to see you licking your lips clean with your tongue, as you meet his gaze with a grin, slowly sucking on each one of your fingers until you’ve cleaned yourself of his cum. 

“Princess, fuck,” he’s lying back on the pillow, as your lips slowly kiss back up his body, your tongue dragging between the fluttering muscles of his stomach and chest. 

“Already hard again?” You murmur, a smirk on your lips, “so sensitive for me,” 

He’s keening at your words, a whimper leaving his lips. His eyes are blown out in pleasure as he meets your gaze, and you kiss him again, sloppy and messy, as his tongue brushes against yours, your clothed pussy grinding against his erection. 

“Please,” he can’t help the words leaving his lips, “I need you,” 

“Is this the first time you’ve begged for something?” You tease him, smirk on your lips as your thumb teases one of his nipples, pulling a gasp from his lips, “such a good boy,” 

He hissed at your praise, “fuck—“ 

And you’re grinding against him, he’s already embarrassingly hard, blood rushing back to his cock as if it never left, as it drags against the all too wet fabric of your panties. And every small moan that leaves your lips leaving him needing more, his pre cum mixing with your cum that seeps through your panties, and is the second time he comes with you gonna be just grinding against each other on this bed? But he can’t help it if you keep nibbling at his neck like that, your pretty little pants in his ear, the head of his dick catching on your clit — so fucking good. 

“Toru, c-close, ngh, g’nna cum—“ and he’s nodding, forcing his eyes open to watch you cum, your chest shaking, as you hover above him, your eyes squeezed shut and lips parted as you said his name. 

“S’good,” he’s grunting, “Cum f’me,” and you both do, the slick and stickiness between your bodies almost unbearable, as you both pant, as you rest your head against his shoulder. 

The silence sinks in for a moment, as you kiss his cheek, “we can stop here if you want,” your voice is soft, nose brushing against his neck, “don’t want to make you—“

And he’s flipping you onto your back, his fingers finding the waistband of your shorts, your breath hitching as he drags the material down your legs, and tosses it behind him, “I want this, I want you, and I won’t stop saying it until you believe it,” he leans down, breath warming your breasts through your shirt, before his lips suck at your clothed nipples, making you shiver, “you like that, huh?” 

“Shut up,” your cheeks burn, but he’s only tugging your shirt over your head and off, his gaze hot as he drags his eyes down your exposed body, and it makes you squirm, “Satoru — please—“ 

“Now who’s the one doing the begging?” he leans down to suck on your nipple, while his fingers toy with the other between his thumb and forefinger, “I wanna learn what makes you feel good — wanna make you cum under my touch, wanna taste you,” he switches sides, his teeth grazing the skin of your breast, sucking a mark before soothing it with his tongue, “mine,” 

“Satoru, fuck, I want—“ and his fingers trace down your body, making you gasp, he’s kissing down your chest and then your stomach, tongue dipping into your bellybutton, “you fucking—“ 

“Gotta make you feel good don’t I?” he has a shit eating grin on his lips, as he settles between your thighs, and his fingers press against the growing wet patch on your panties, “though it looks like you’re already feeling good,” 

You bite back a whimper, “Are you gonna make me feel good or are you gonna keep talking—“ you moan when his thumb bears down on your needy clit, rubbing it through the nearly translucent fabric of your underwear. 

“What was that, sweetheart?” And he’s snapping the waistband of your panties against your skin, “couldn’t hear you,” 

“You fucker—“ and he’s kissing your clothed cunt through the wet fabric, nose brushing against your clit, making you nearly shake, as he inhales before he moans. 

“So sweet, must taste even sweeter,” he murmurs before tugging your underwear down, before you’re kicking it off, making him chuckle, “so eager,” and you scowl up at him, ineffective from the way lips are parted, “you’re so cute,” 

“I’m not cute,” you pout, and he’s laughing, a noise you could drown in, just as you do his eyes. 

“You’re very cute, and I’ll tell you as many times as it takes you to believe it,” and his lips press soft kisses to your thighs, “my cute bodyguard, you gonna guard my heart as well as you do my body?” 

And before you can reply his breath is warming your soaked cunt, his fingers parting your folds apart, your clit was puffy, your sex slick with your mixed juices, “so pretty, this all just for me?” And you hiss as he holds your outer lips apart, “so this is what your pussy looks like, huh?” And your thighs are twitching, trying to shut, but his palms hold you apart, his heated gaze meeting your shy ones, “you’re perfect, don’t hide from me, you’ve done enough of that,” and he kisses your clit, making you moan, “and I won’t have that anymore,” 

“Satoru—“ and his tongue drags over the length of your dripping pussy experimentally, tip of his tongue flicking against your clit, fuck, how can he this good at this? Your toes are already curling as he groans, his fingers sliding under your thighs, and tugging you impossibly closer to his face. Your fingers weave into his white locks, “‘ngh— 

“Be a good girl and take it,” he grunts against you, slurping your juices, the sounds of his tongue buried in your cunt, fucking you open, dragging across your walls, “taste s’fucking good, how’d I hold out this long without tasting you?” And your eyes flutter open at his groans, seeing him grind down on the sheets, so fucking horny from eating you out, “g’nna just cum from your taste alone, Princess,” you’re so incredibly soft, so soft, despite your walls being so tough, and it makes only eat you eat you from the inside out. 

You’re so close, and all you hear is the sounds of his greedy tongue swallowing you whole, and the sound of your heartbeat and short gasps. Your walls flutter around his tongue, your thighs twitching under his touch, hips jolting forward to meet his touch, his tongue so fucking deep that you can’t see straight, “Toru, please, I’m so close—“ 

And you feel him groan into your pussy, redoubling his efforts before his fingers find your clit and rub at it while he sucks at your cunt. You cum hard, fingernails digging into his scalp, as your back arches as he eagerly eats you out through your orgasm. The wet squelch of your cunt and his tongue slurping against you, drinking every drop you offer him. 

And then finally he’s pulling away with a pop, his chin and mouth dripping with your release and his spit, pink tongue darting out to clean up your cum from his face, wiping off the rest as he looked up at you from white lashed half lidded eyes. 

And you can’t even speak, still coming down from your high, as he kisses up your body again, your thighs still shaking from your orgasm, your fingers reaching for his cheek, tracing his jaw, before cupping his cheek. 

“How the fuck do you know how to do that well?” And he flashes a pretty smile, as he drags his thumb down your lips. 

“I said I was a virgin, I didn’t say I didn’t know how to do some things — and as you know, I’m an excellent student,” and you huff, raising an eyebrow, “and I’m naturally good at everything,” 

“And always so humble,” he laughs, before he kisses you again, letting you taste yourself on his sweet lips, and you’re rolling him over onto his back, his erection slick with precum, pressing against your sensitive cunt, “let me make you feel good now,” you murmur, his cock twitching against you, “wanna ride you, Toru, need you in me,” 

And he’s hissing, as he moves to sit against the headboard, “You keep talking like that princess, I’m g’nna cum before you even—“ and your fingers are reaching between your bodies, and you’re stroking him, smearing his precum over the length of his shaft, making his hips jerk, “fuck—” 

You’re so fucking pretty — your teeth baring down on your bottom lip, as you straddle him, hovering still, his aching tip barely brushing against your dripping cunt, “are you sure?” you murmur, eyes meeting his own, and his lips quirk into a smile. 

“Never been more sure of anything,” and you sink onto him, thick length parting your folds, and he groans, as you fit him in your pussy, inch by inch, until your hips are flush. And fuck, he’s never felt anything better — pleasure runs up and down his body, as his hands find their way to your hips.

You’re tense at first, your back slightly arched, and when he shifts under you, a moan is ripped from your lips, as you begin to adjust to his size, “s’big, Toru, gonna make it hard for me to last too, feels too good,” you’re mumbling, and he’s holding his hips taut, making sure not to move — or else, he’s sure he’d cum in one stroke, “g’nna move ok?” and he’s nodding desperately, your walls already fluttering around him — slick and warm, better anything he’d ever felt. 

You lift up to the tip, before beginning to rock steadily up and down, as he moans, your sweet cunt swallowing him eagerly, as you began to fuck yourself on his cock. Your chest bounces as you ride him, and he can’t resist leaning forward to take a hardened bud in his mouth, your moan making his cock twitch inside you. And he knows why people become addicted to sex — hell, he knew was an addict for it now, but only with you. 

“Fuck, never felt anything this good before, sweetheart, feel s’perfect for me,” he’s grunting, the coil in his stomach growing tighter, as your pace grows more and more sloppy. He wasn’t going to last long, and neither were you from the way you were groaning his name again and again. The wet squelch and smacks of your bodies meeting again and again, only making it harder to hold back, and when he looks to see a white ring of your precum pooling around the base of his dick, he’s nearly gone, “fuck, baby, need you to cum with me,” 

“It’s okay, pretty boy, cum for me,” he keens at the praise, but he’s stubborn, as you established, and he won’t cum until you do too — and so he ensures it, reaching between your bodies to rub meanly at your clit before meeting your thrusts with his own. 

And his tip brushes against that spot that has your vision blurring and toes curling, “Toru, ngh, I’m—” and you’re cumming hard around him, making him spill his warm and thick seed inside your cunt, and he’s groaning you name as he does, your body slowing as you both come down from your highs, your head resting on his shoulder, as your bodies grow limp, resting, his back pressed to the headboard of his bed. 

His fingers trace the curve of your back gently, as he turns his head to press soft kisses to your neck, “Am I still just a distraction?” his lips curled into a smile, and you chuckle, burying your face in his shoulder. 

“Definitely,” but you lean back to cup his cheek, and look at his pretty face again, “but one worth having.” 

You don’t wake from your alarm the next morning. 

Instead, you wake to banging on the door. You both jolt awake, and he’s pulling you into his arms, even as you move to get up, he won’t let go, strong arms around your waist. You’re easing his arms off, trying to be gentle, “Toru, let go, and wait here, your father had a panic room installed in your closet, you hear anything, go inside—” 

“No, I’m coming with you,” and you shake your head. 

“I’m hired to protect you, not the other way around,” you leave his embrace, and face him, his crystal eyes blurred over with worry, “I can handle this,” you reassure him, your fingers intertwining with his, as you press a kiss to his knuckles, “I promise,” 

“But—” and you kiss him gently, silencing his protests, before you slip away into the hallway. 

You enter the living room, shutting the bedroom door without a sound, stalking through the hall, as you grab a knife and pepper spray from the chest of drawers that was pressed to the wall of the hallway — you had several self defense tools hidden all over the apartment. Your heartbeat thunders in your ear, mouth dry, as you approach the door from the side. 

“Who is it?”

“It’s Mr. Gojo, open this door,” and you sigh, relaxing, as you check and unlock the door for him. 

Shinsaku Gojo was only a man you were able to meet once before your work for him began. And it was a privilege even to see him then. His schedule was always packed — multiple meetings, multiple clients, and multiple women, all vying for his attention. Even as you spoke with him the first time, his eyes were on his phone the entire time, except when he had warned you, not to let anything distract you from protecting his son. 

And you had done just that — and even worse, his son had done the distracting, “Mr—” 

“Where’s my son? He hasn’t answered his phone all morning, and neither have you—didn’t you hear from your agency?” his voice is raising, as he dials your number again, and your phone vibrates on the couch. He scoffs, disconnecting the call, as his hard gaze turned back to you, “what if there was a threat? You left your phone—” 

“Dad,” Satoru emerges from the room, his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, “it’s not her fault, she forgot it last night when we were watching a movie,” 

“Watching a movie?” he sneers, his cerulean gaze the same as son, but without any of the warmth Satoru had — an icy tundra compared to a warm pool, “she should be watching you, that’s her job—” 

“She was watching me — something you never bothered to do,” and his father’s eyes narrow, “she’s shown more concern for me than you ever had — and she only met me a few weeks ago. What’s your excuse for being a pathetic piece of—“ 

“Satoru,” your fingers brush his shoulder, shaking your head, “sir, I take responsibility for this lapse of judgment. Don’t blame your son,”

Satoru lowers his voice, “it’s not your fault—“ 

“It is. I disregarded by duty to protect you,” your cheeks burn with shame — “what if i had missed an alert you were in danger? What if I failed to protect you because I wasn’t focused? What if—“ 

“Nothing happened,” he says softly, and the twitch of his fingers tells you he’s gonna reach for you, but you step forward, shaking your head. 

“Nothing did,” and you turn to his father, “I’ll protect Satoru until you can find a suitable replacement for me. But I compromised my mission to protect him. I would like to resign as soon as possible,” 

“No! I—“ 

“Agreed,” his father says, “I’ll have your replacement here in an hour, make sure you’re packed up by then,” and his father leaves without another word. 

You brush past him to gather your things, but he’s caught you by the wrist, “Why did you do—“ 

“Gojo,” and you can’t bear to see the hurt in his eyes, “I can’t let my feelings get in the way of keeping you safe—“ 

“I don’t care—“ you cut him off. 

“I do, I couldn’t stand if something happened to you because of me. What it was an emergency last night and you got hurt because of my own carelessness—“ 

“It wasn’t careless what happened last night—“ 

“It was,” you say, walking to your room, “and it won’t happen again.” 

You left. You had expected a fight, an argument, a dramatic show of tears — but nothing. Satoru hadn’t even opened his door to watch you leave. The other bodyguard arrived quickly, and you left the penthouse and didn’t look back. 

It was for the best. 

You had a duty, a role to play, and more than that, you couldn’t let him get hurt because of your inability to compartmentalize. Even so, Satoru’s father was kind enough not to have told your father what happened — or you supposed it was pity in exchange for your quick and easy resignation. 

Fuck. Why were you still thinking about this? You rolled over in bed, burying your head under your comforter. A week out, and you still couldn’t stop worrying about Satoru, about his safety, about the hurt on his face, about that night… 

You had fucked everything up, and fucked Satoru up in the aftermath. 

You poke your head out, and stare at your phone on your bedside table — 7:45 PM, no new messages — you had written out six different messages to him again and again, before deleting them. You wondered how many more you’d write before you finally would rid your mind of him. 

Would you ever rid your mind of him? 

And that’s when your phone rings. But it’s not flashing Satoru’s number — it’s his father. You scramble for the phone — why was he calling? And you can only think of one reason. You can’t say a single word when you pick up — his father already hissing his first question.  

“Where is he?” your words are lodged in your throat, stuck on your heart that had leapt from your chest. 

“What?” 

“Where’s Satoru? He came to you didn’t he?” he growls, and you hear a slam, assumedly his fist against his desk, “he shook off his new bodyguard, and his phone is off,” 

“He hasn’t — I haven’t talked to him since I left—” your mind is running a mile a minute, racking your brain, placing the call on speakerphone, as you text Satoru, where are you? “Where did the bodyguard see him last?” 

“He had him at the dorms, he said he was going to see a friend, and then gave him the slip,” his father groans, “you hear anything from him, otherwise—” 

“I’ll let you know,” you cut him off at the threats — you had more important things to do. You checked your messages, but your messages hadn’t gone through, and you tried calling him — but it went straight to voicemail. Satoru was upset — he could’ve blocked you or turned off his phone to piss off his father, but you didn’t see him doing that. He was an idiot, but he knew his father would lose his shit. 

And then you remembered. The tracker you placed on Satoru — you never took it off. You had sewed it into the insole of his daily shoes (the man had far too many clothes and shoes, but he rarely found the energy to not wear anything besides the shoes he always wore). 

You turned it on, biting your lip as you watched the tracker loaded, and his location popped up — and it wasn’t at his apartment. 

It was in Shibuya — you typed in the address and he was at a house. 

You furrow your brow, who did he know who lived in Shibuya? And then it clicked. 

Fuck. 

Those girls. 

Satoru groaned, fuck, why is his head hurting so badly? 

It wasn’t exactly unusual the last few days. He hadn’t been sleeping much since you left, he spent most of his nights watching TV and rotting in his bed. But everything reminded him of you — his bed, his couch, and even the shows he watched (he had continued one of the shows you both had started one late night). 

His apartment was a disaster — a mess of empty soda cans, empty wrappers of candy and old takeout containers. But he couldn’t be bothered with it — to clean it up or call someone to clean it up. His bodyguard had taken up residence in your room — or rather the guest room — and hardly emerged, keeping an eye on him through cameras his father had installed around the doors and hallway. 

Not that he really needed to, Satoru rarely left his apartment, even had skipped classes for a week — sending an email that he had a very contagious illness and that he’d be happy to attend class if necessary. They sent him materials to work on classwork from home, piled untouched on his kitchen counter, with a possible smudge from the hot fudge he had last night. 

He had made progress — instead of staying in bed, he moved onto the couch for his afternoon nap, and he had just fallen asleep when there was a banging on his door. He groaned into the couch pillow he had just gotten comfortable on, before pulling it onto his head, trying to block out the sounds of the knocking. 

“Satoru! Open up,” he hears Suguru’s voice through the door, “open the fucking door, I know you’re not sick,” 

He pulls himself up, groaning, as he wipes the small amount of drool from his lips, as he meanders to the door, throwing it open. 

“You look like shit,” Suguru says, brushing past him to enter. 

“No ‘hello, you look like shit?’” He mumbles, still rubbing his eyes, “what are you doing here?” 

“I should be asking you that,” he stands, hands in his pockets, as he takes in the mess with a wrinkled nose, “although I see you’ve decided to redecorate,”

“Hilarious,” Satoru replies, lying back on the couch, “did you come here just to hassle me?” 

“I’d be lying if I didn’t say that wasn’t part of it, but the other was to see if you’re ready to pick yourself back up after your breakup—“ 

“It wasn’t a breakup,” Satoru snaps. 

“If it wasn’t, then why does it look like you haven’t showered in several days since she left?” Suguru raises an eyebrow, and Satoru scowls. 

“I’m sick,” he turns away to face the couch, “I don’t have the energy to shower,” 

“But you have the energy to eat about half a dozen mochi doughnuts?” Suguru holds up an empty doughnut box, and Satoru holds a couch pillow to his chest, “Satoru, come on, it isn’t like you to wallow like this,” 

“I’m not wallowing—“ 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re sick, right?” Suguru says sarcastically. Satoru doesn’t need to look at his best friend to know he’s rolling his eyes, “well you don’t seem like you’re sneezing or coughing so go take a shower or something,” Satoru gives a weak fake cough, and he could feel Suguru’s glare, “fine, rot in bed, but you have to get up sometime, just text me when you’re ready to,” 

And Satoru hears Suguru’s footsteps recede to the door, swinging shut with a click behind him. He buries his face in the pillow. It wasn’t a break up. How could it be when you didn’t even have a relationship to begin with? You had made that clear enough when you left without another word to him. He didn’t leave his room until he heard the door shut behind you, and he made his way out to watch you leave out the front door of the apartment. And you didn’t even look back. But you weren’t the type to. 

He felt like he was always looking back — one way or another. 

And even now, as he came to — he was trying to remember what he had done after Suguru left. Someone else had shown up — knocked at his door. Offered to get him out of the house — offered him free alcohol and a distraction. 

And he had agreed — if only to forget about you for a moment. Drinking was the only thing that made him forget — if he only could somehow forget how terrible alcohol tasted. 

His head spun, so was this a hangover? It’s certainly worse than the one he had before — the last one felt like his brain was fuzzy and nausea clawed at his stomach — this time, it felt more akin to someone taking a blender to both of those organs. And his neck, he stretched it both ways. How had he fallen asleep? 

And then he tried to lift up his hand to rub his eyes, and he couldn't, wrist straining against something — his brow furrowed, what was arm caught on — and his eyes fluttered open. It was dark — the only light came from another room, peeking through the crack at the bottom of, what he assumed was, a door. And then as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he looked at his arms. 

Ropes. Twisted around both his arms, binding his wrists and forearms to the arms of a chair, and his vision blurs — what? His legs jerk instinctively, but ropes dig into the flesh of his ankles, and he glanced down only to find what he expected. 

“You’re awake,” the light flicks on, he lifts his head, blinking away the fog in his head and the burning tears slipping from his eyes, “didn’t realize the drug would knock you out for that long,”

He blinks again and again, light flooding his eyes, until he can see and sees a familiar face — “Misaki?” the light sends a piercing jolt through his head, “or is it Yumiko?” 

“Well that’s flattering, you can’t even remember my name?” she sighs, crossing her arms, “well I unfortunately don’t have the same luxury,” and then she adds with a quirk of her lips, “it is Yumiko,” and she steps forward, as his eyes squeeze shut, his head still banging, “sorry what I gave you to knock you out can cause some light sensitivity,” 

It’s slowly sinking in, “I don’t know what kind of weird kink you have, but I’m not interested,” and she scoffs, pressing her knuckles to her chin, “where am I?” 

“Do you think I’m really going to tell you that?” she raises an eyebrow, “I did send you threats after all, you don’t think I’d be that stupid to tell you where I am,” 

He needed to buy time, he needed to find a way to get out of here, and to do that, he needed time, “What? Are you obsessed with me or something? Do you want my body?”

“I’m going to stop your overinflated ego there,” she sighs, leaning against a table that was behind her, “I have a debt to pay and you’re the price,” 

“Debt?” he repeats, “is this where you explain your whole plan? And villain speech? Because I usually I could care less, but I’m feeling a little generous with my time, as I’m a little tied up at the moment, so—” 

“Do you ever shut up?” 

“It’s known to happen on occasion,” she rubs her temples, and then something occurs to him, “how did you get my address? You showed up and invited me,” 

She shakes his head, “You think I couldn’t find out your address after sending you threats?” and she sighs, “You know this is why I tried to do this at the first party — get it over with so I wouldn’t have to deal with this. But then you crushed your beer cup, your little girlfriend got in the way, and that idiot Misaki accidentally switched her shot glass with yours, so I couldn’t get you dosed,” she grits her teeth, “and then the rest of the semester, your girlfriend was up your ass the entire time — but she wasn’t your girlfriend was she? She was your bodyguard,” he says nothing, “you don’t need to confirm it for me, I already found her information, her name, her address—” 

“What do you want? Money? My father will pay anything to get me back. Tell me who you need to repay and he’ll do it,” and her lips curl. 

“So serious now — and so cooperative, maybe I should have kidnapped her too while I was at it,” she shrugs, while she grabs her phone from the table — a burner — “my father will be here to escort you to where you need to go. The yakuza will take it from there,” his blood runs cold, “Don’t cause a fuss and i can promise your girlfriend will stay safe,” 

He grits his teeth — he was so stupid. This was exactly the kind of shit you were trying to protect him from. And it was the thing he landed himself in the moment you left. But he didn’t care — because it was better this way, because you were safe this way.

“Wow, you’re pretty cute when you’re all quiet,” and she’s walking over, and he’s flinching as she drags a manicured nail down his cheek, before tilting it up, “it’s just that mouth that’s a problem,” and her thumb brushes down his lips, “don’t bite, or we might have a problem,” 

And he doesn’t, but then he smiles back, “you might like it when I bite,” he smirks, “why don’t you come here and find out?” And she raises her eyebrows, leaning closer, and he smashes his forehead into hers, “fuck off,” 

She stumbles back, losing her balance, and leaning against the table as she clutches at her forehead. Satoru watches her, trying to wriggle out of his constraints, rope chafing against his skin, red welts rising on his skin, but he only manages to get one hand free before she’s starting to get her bearings, and then he’s trying to free himself, his chair tipping over. And now he’s lying helplessly as she stumbles forward over to him, clutching a knife she grabbed off the table. 

“I have to hand you over to the yakuza, but they didn’t say you had to be completely unharmed,” she presses the tip of the knife to his cheek, “maybe we’ll do something to that pretty face of yours,” he grits his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. 

CRACK. 

He hears a body slump over, and the clatter of the knife against the cement floor, and his eyes open to find you kneeling beside him. He’s blinking, murmuring your name, “What are you—” 

“Well I never did remove that tracker did I?”  You’re cutting the ropes on his wrists and ankles with the knife, “and I’m lucky you wear the same damn shoes everyday,” 

“Why did you come for me?” he says, as you finally free him his restraints, your fingers gentle as they examine the welts and bruises left on his skin, “you could have just told my father where I was or the police,” 

“I could’ve. I saw where you were and I figured it out—“ and your voice wavers, “but all I could think was that I wanted to find you. And I didn’t wanna wait for anyone else. I didn’t want something to happen just because someone else was too slow,” the lump in your throat grows only larger, as you sit, “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you,” 

“Why?” he asks softly, his fingers brush against your cheek, and he knows why — he does, but he needs to hear it. 

“Because I just want…to be the one to protect you,” you admit, tears burning at your eyes, as your thumb traces over his rope burns and bruises, “I wish that I could have,” 

“You did a pretty good job, considering I almost was about to get my face cut up,” and he gently wipes your tears away, “imagine what a tragedy that would be,” 

You give a watery chuckle, cupping his cheeks, “I’m sorry,” and he opens his mouth, “no i really am. I shouldn’t have slept with you, only to cut and run after. I thought…I thought I was doing you a favor,” 

“How?” And you sigh, blinking away your tears. 

“I put your life in danger by doing that. I couldn’t do that. I knew the only way you’d let me go is…if I lied to you and said I didn’t care about you,” you bite your bottom lip, “and I’m sorry because I only hurt you more in the end,” 

He kisses your lips gently, chastely, his breath warming your lips as he parts from them, “you did,” and you scoff, pushing him playfully, “but as long as you promise not to do it again, I think I can find it in my incredibly generous heart to forgive you,” 

You kiss him again, softly, your fingers sliding to the back his neck, into his undercut, “I promise,” and he grins, before leaning back to kiss you again, when a cough behind you catches your attention. 

“My father will be getting here shortly you idiots, while you gaze fucking stupidly into each other’s eyes,” she sneers, and you raise an eyebrow. 

“You think I’d come here without calling the police? They already have picked up your father — and they should be almost here—“ and the sounds of an ambulance and police sirens come into earshot. 

“Good timing,” Satoru mutters, as Yumiko tries and fails to stumble to her feet, and you get up and pin her to the ground. Satoru raises an eyebrow, and watches, as you glance back at him, tilting your head in question, “nothing, it’s just…hot to see you in action,” 

You laugh, “Did she hit your head too?” And he shrugs, as he gets onto this feet with shaky legs, “Satoru—“ 

And he sits next to you, leaning on your shoulder, “just let me rest here for a minute,” he mumbles. 

For the first time since you left, Satoru felt like he could finally rest. 

And Satoru did rest, he realized as he blinked awake to the ambient sounds of the hospital room, the distinct beep of the heartbeat monitor, the dim light of the moon filtering through the shades, and the distant sounds of people walking through the hall. He hears the sounds of sheets rustling, and his gaze snaps over to his left. 

His gaze softens. You were fast asleep beside him, your arms tucked under your head, your breaths were soft, as they were the night you two had spent together. He sat himself up — fingers running through your hair gently. You had fallen asleep before him that night, face buried in the crook of his neck, and your legs entangled with his. And now you slept beside him on a chair, leaning on his bedside. 

His fingers carded through your hair again, and you stirred, as he swore under his breath, your eyes fluttered open, “Toru?” you mumbled, still half asleep, and he hummed. 

“Sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he sighed softly, “why are you sleeping here? You should have gone home,” you sit up, stretching, as you furrow your brow, eyes scanning him for any sign of an injury or distress. 

“I wanted to make sure you were okay — you were unconscious, but no concussion thankfully. I tried to wake you up but you wouldn’t wake,” you sigh, words tumbling out almost faster than you can think of them, “they mostly kept you for observation, but are you feeling okay? Should I get the nurse—“ 

And he’s pulling you into a hug, arms wrapping around you, as he sighs, burying his face in your neck, “I just want to stay like this for a while,” he murmurs, “I got everything I need right here, got it?” He feels you nod, and he feels the hint of your tears on his skin, but says nothing, only his lips quirk, “you did mean your promise?” 

“I did, I won’t leave like that again,” and he’s leaning back, head tilted, and you chuckle, “I mean I won’t leave you at all, how’s that?” 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, leaning closer, and his heart squeezes when he hears your breath hitch as he does. His eyes flicker to your lips and back, “can I kiss—“ 

But you kiss him first, softly, your fingers brushing his cheek, and god, why was it that a single touch from you melted him away to nothing? Whittled his world view to a pin where all he could feel, all he could see, was you. 

And then you kiss his cheeks, his chin, his jaw, and then your teeth graze the soft part of his neck, drawing a pretty gasp from his lips, as you suck lightly on his skin. 

He’s whispering your name, breath sucked from his lungs as if your teeth had pierced through his throat instead of just his skin, “what was that for?” 

And you smile, “so everyone knows you’re mine.” 

“You’re changing your major?” Suguru raises his eyebrow, as he lounges on Satoru’s couch, holding his head up with his elbow propped against the top of the couch, “your father must’ve been thrilled about that,” 

“He lost his shit, but that geezer can fuck off,” Satoru shrugs, “he threatened to not pay my tuition, but once I threatened to go public with his dealings with the yakuza, he saw it my way,” 

Suguru tilts his head, “His what?” 

You bring over tea from the kitchen, placing it on the table, “After what Satoru found out from Yumiko and her father, their debt to the yakuza would have been paid off by kidnapping one of Satoru’s father’s close relatives, but I was wondering why was the yakuza so eager to do so?” 

“Apparently my old man had the brilliant idea of entertaining the yakuza on some deal he was making,” Satoru explains, leaning back on the couch, as you sit against his legs, “and when he backed out, the yakuza wanted to push it through anyway — and well, thus their blackmail of Yumiko’s father, once they found out his daughter went to school with me.” 

“Yeah, turns out her father had gambling debts owed to the yakuza,” you sighed, “she got caught in the crossfire — I almost feel bad,” 

“Speak for yourself, she drugged me, tied me to a chair, and held a knife to my face,” Satoru scoffs, sipping his tea that he had you drown in sugar. 

“Well you didn’t complain when I did that last night,” you reply, making both Satoru and Suguru choke, and you laughed, squealing when Satoru lifts you into his lap to bury his face into your back. 

“You two are officially sickening to be around,” Suguru grimaces, still coughing from choking down his tea, “I think I liked it better when he was wasting away in his apartment,” 

“You wasted away after I left?” You turn to look at Satoru, who shoots a glare at Suguru, “sorry Geto, that’s not happening again,” and Satoru softens his gaze, pressing a kiss to your head. 

“Alright, that’s it, I’m leaving,” Suguru gets to his feet, as he glances back at you two, “don’t rush to get up, I’ll see myself out,” he rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t worry we weren’t going to,” Satoru pulls you closer, and Suguru narrows his eyes, before his lips curl into a grin. 

“Just for that, I’m sending your girlfriend a picture of the mess you looked like when she left,” Satoru gapes at him, while you bite back a laugh. 

“Suguru!” Satoru calls, but the door’s shut, and you’re starting to giggle. He’s pouting now, “so my girlfriend thinks it's funny to see me in the pathetic state she left me in?” 

“Oh your girlfriend finds it very funny, and she might even make it her boyfriend’s contact picture,” you smirk, and he’s biting back a smile, “What?” 

“This is just the first time we called each other that,” he mumbles, a slight dusting of pink on his cheeks, “it’s nice,” he admits. 

“Well, I am yours, aren’t I?” you smile, and he presses a kiss to your lips, as he would again and again. 

“My one and only.” 

✧ a/n: so this fic was so freaking long. i'm sorry it took so long to post this - i got a little sidetracked by prof geto haha. but i'm hoping to start on the next one soon :). i think i'll put a poll up on which one i should write next! edit: forgot to tag the people who requested this, its now added in T_T

✧ taglist: @teatreeoilll, @intrxspectiv, @marvel-fanaticz, @ilovemybabes, @lwustyz, @jayathelostdragon, @vampzys, @sleazymac-n-cheesy, @soilmayo, @iwassentfromhell, @lobotomy-kaisen, @gojoallmine, @forest-hashira, @h3artpiecexx, @lailarratx, @gummibat, @hanlay, @ilovewoo9, @nvmlolo, @h6avenly, @eriyvesa, @alexandraioann4, @eclipsephase, @sokkasmoon, @aizzon, @makotome9, @daddytojji, @fluffy-pancakes01, @imjustmememe, @spookyy-gracee, @forest-fruits-jam, @that-goth-bisexual, @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @lookinreality,

[shotmrmiller]

ps!ghost's twitter feed used to be of him at conventions. his car. him in a pool. the gym. arm around johnny in his backyard. sprawled on his couch next to kyle. basic stuff. the occasional obligatory promo of the video he shoots.

then it's one faceless pic of you for your OF. pretty thing, puffy pussy visible through your sodden knickers. thighs spread wide, feet on each side of the slim mirror. retweets it with a water emoji.

now, it's him with a cup of steaming black coffee in his hands, a sleek macbook before him on the marble-top kitchen island (hand covering the lower half of his face because it's too damn early for the mask. kinda looks like he's yawning. cute.)

johnny throwing up two fingers, thick wrist adorned with a bracelet, sunlight glinting off of its jewels. vacation, it looks like. cobblestone street beneath his loafers. panna cotta gelato in his other hand.

it's him with his hands in his pockets, neck craned back to look at the masterpiece that hangs on the wall— brushstrokes of genius on canvas. he's got a healthy glow to him, sun-kissed gold. warm, unlike the clinical white of the museum walls.

then it's you again. this time you've got two small (in comparison to his very long ones) fingers stuffed into your greedy hole, glistening with slick. heart eyes emoji.

and again. a vibrant pink vibrator in your cunt, one arm reaching for the camera, remote control in hand. put it as intense as you like. i can handle it. two heart eyes and water emoji.

and again, 3 consecutive pictures. your face is covered by a big red heart, but everything else is visible. like the creamy white fluffy rabbit ears on your head, a collar around your neck, tiny carrot charm delicately dangling from it, white cottonball tail on your arse. small, black triangles on your head: cat ears. silky collar with a tinkling silver bell. long, furry plume-like tail, obsidian black with a precious white bow at the base. last is a puppy mask. buttery faux-leather, sleek and smooth. padded fist mitts, rosy, pink paws. whip-like tail. a thick collar around your neck, chain links glimmering with the camera's flash. handle on the floor, beckoning to be picked up, to lead you about. i'd be a good pet, don't you think?

(simon spam retweeted this 6 times. kyle sent him a message about it, telling him his twitter is freaking out. it was most assuredly not a mistake.) lowered his joggers enough to take himself out and fisted his cock until he covered that pretty arse of yours with his seed. was not fun cleaning up his phone after but so worth.

(he'll never admit that heat blooms in his cheeks when fans ask if you're his lover. how lucky you are. must be seeing nameless gods beneath him, touching the sky with your fingertips when he uses his mouth. seeing the universe behind your eyelids when he makes you come around his cock.)

he wishes, lol.