#and at any time i took a break it was too late to get a blood test done anyway 💀 OOPS!

[hyruling]

I've been scrolling down your blog all morning going through your drabbles and fics on my day off like you're the news channel, so if you are still accepting prompt and feel inspired by it, I'd like to submit n.21 🌞 btw your writing is incredible!!!!!

21. kissing the other’s brow & 38. stroking their leg

—

It’s late when they get home, their shift having run over by two hours thanks to a high rise fire that took the efforts of three additional houses to get under control. Buck and Eddie had scaled at least fourteen flights of stairs alone, then back down and up again when they found a few stragglers along the way, and Buck doesn’t remember ever being so tired in his life.

He shuffles into the house behind Eddie, trying to hide the way he’s limping. It’s probably no use — Eddie is too astute, and he’s sure he saw the way Buck had to grit his teeth when he took off his boots back at the station. But if he can just get into the bathtub and then into bed he’ll be fine. They have plans to take Chris and his friends to the beach tomorrow, and he doesn’t want to give Eddie any reason to think they should cancel.

Buck goes into the kitchen first to grab a bottle of water while Eddie checks in on Chris, who’s already asleep by the sounds of it. When Buck emerges, Eddie is down the hall and closing the door of the bathroom behind him. Damn.

It’s his night on the couch. He should make up his bed, but his leg is screaming and it’s all he can do to ease himself onto it without yelping in pain. He reclines and elevates it over the back of the couch with a private little wince and closes his eyes.

The next thing he’s aware of is Eddie’s hand on his shoulder, gently nudging him awake.

“Can you stand?” Eddie asks him.

Buck blinks, eyes bleary from the few minutes of sleep he must’ve nabbed. “I—yeah, sure.”

He moves too quickly, and there’s no way Eddie misses the way his face contorts in pain from it. He’s right there, helping Buck stand, and easily supports his weight when his leg threatens to give out.

“Sorry,” Buck hisses in his ear, gripping his shoulder for balance. “I’ll be okay in a sec.”

Eddie just tightens his hold on Buck’s waist. “Take your time bud.”

Buck stretches until he thinks he can reasonably put weight on it again, and when he nods Eddie helps him down the hall. So much for hiding it.

“Promise I’m still good for tomorrow,” Buck gets out through a clenched jaw.

“Don’t worry about that. C’mon.”

They pass the bedroom, and when Buck makes an inquisitive little noise Eddie just keeps walking him towards the bathroom.

The bath is full of warm water when they step in. Stream curls from the top of the water, slightly cloudy and heavenly looking.

“I put in some of those CBD bath salts,” Eddie tells him, releasing him at last to dig a clean towel out of the closet. “And I think there’s still some of the cream left we can put on after. Do you need one of your pills, or did you take one?”

Buck doesn’t answer for a minute, choking back the sudden lump in his throat. Eddie’s exhausted too — he climbed the same amount of stairs, carried the same amount of people as Buck. He can see in the droop shoulders and his half-lidded eyes that he’s tired, and he still took the time to do this for him. No one’s ever known him this way, cared for him the way Eddie does, save for Maddie, and it overwhelms him at times like this.

“Buck?”

Eddie’s voice breaks him out of his little reverie. He blinks a few times, croaks, “Y-yeah?”

“Do you need your medicine?”

Buck swallows and nods. “Uh, yeah. Probably should. They’re in my bag.”

Eddie nods. “Go ahead and get in, I’ll bring it to you.”

Buck undresses when he leaves, and gingerly lowers himself into the water. It’s perfect, and he immediately feels his muscles relax, his leg practically singing in relief.

Eddie comes back in a minute later and crouches to set Buck’s medicine and bottle of water on the edge of the tub. Buck’s not the least bit self conscious — Eddie’s seen him naked before, more than once, and it’s not like he can really see anything with the way Buck has his leg crooked. But he wouldn’t care if he could, and that feels significant in a way he doesn’t have the energy to examine.

“Need anything else?” Eddie asks.

Buck shakes his head. “No, this is perfect. Thank you Eddie.”

Eddie smiles, and leans forward to press a soft kiss to Buck’s brow as he straightens. “Soak for at least thirty minutes. Holler if you need me.”

And then he’s gone, leaving Buck staring after him like a fish out of water.

Any chance of relaxation goes out the window. He tells himself it’s no big deal; it was probably just one of Eddie’s dad reflexes. He’s seen him do the same thing when giving Chris medicine countless times. It doesn’t mean anything, it can’t, and yet Buck feels the ghost of his lips between his eyes like a sting.

He swallows the pill and soaks until the water goes cold, and his leg is somewhat better after — he can at least put weight on it when he stands. His mind buzzes while he finishes his nightly routine, and it’s almost enough to drown out the constant diatribe of Eddie kissed me Eddie kissed me Eddie kissed me racketing around his skull.

Almost.

Eddie is on the couch when he comes out, scrolling idly on his phone. He scoots over so Buck can sit next to him and pats his lap.

“Let me see.”

“It’s okay,” Buck says as he lowers himself down. “The bath helped.”

“And yet you’re still limping. C’mon, up.”

Buck sighs and swings his leg up, foot resting on Eddie’s thigh. Eddie pushes his sweats up to his knee and brushes his hand over Buck’s calf, just feeling, and Buck tries not to shiver. He knows he’s feeling for excess warmth, for evidence of a clot, and nods to himself when Buck apparently passes the test.

“Think you can handle a massage?” he asks.

Buck swallows hard. “Yeah, think so.”

Eddie nods again and reaches over to grab the bottle of CBD cream on the coffee table. He puts a generous amount in his palm and rubs his hands together, then starts massaging it gently into Buck’s calf.

It’s not the first time he’s done this for Buck, but it’s the first time since Eddie’s touch became something of a livewire; since every brush of arms at work or friendly shoulder clap made him ache for more, since he developed a somewhat unhealthy obsession with Eddie’s hands. And with the memory of Eddie’s lips on his skin still fresh, it’s all he can do not to moan as those capable hands knead at his sore leg.

“Relax,” Eddie says quietly. “You’re tense as hell bud, that’s not gonna help.”

“Sorry,” Buck says, a little more breathless than he intends.

“Lean back,” Eddie instructs, and Buck complies. He relaxes against one of the throw pillows, and Eddie pulls his leg even closer. “Close your eyes, if you want.”

He does, if only so he doesn’t have to watch Eddie be so competent and gorgeous in the soft lamplight. Slowly, he does relax, Eddie’s ministrations finally taking effect. Buck’s all but a puddle of mush on the couch by the time his leg starts to feel more normal, and Eddie’s kneading turns into gentle stroking motions up and down his shin.

“Better?”

Buck sighs and nods. “Much. Thanks.”

“Of course,” Eddie says with a small squeeze of his calf.

Eddie doesn’t stop touching him. He keeps up the soft caress of Buck’s shin until he’s half asleep, until the vulnerable knife’s edge of consciousness turn his thoughts fuzzy and precarious. He thinks, I love you, and you should know.

Instead, what he says is, “Did you mean to kiss me?”

Eddie’s hand stops, and Buck chances opening his eyes. Eddie’s are on him, dark in the low light, and Buck can’t pin down his expression. It’s not horror, or regret, or any of the things he convinced himself of in the bath, so that’s something. In fact, his lips curl into a closed-mouth smile aimed at his lap.

“I did kiss you, didn’t I?”

Buck laughs, a little self deprecating. “Yeah, kinda.”

“Hmm,” Eddie hums, and glances down at his hand on Buck’s leg. He rubs a little circle into Buck’s shin with his thumb, still smiling softly. “Not exactly how I meant to do it.”

Buck’s heart tha-thums in his chest. “Meant to?”

Eddie’s cheeks flush pink, eyes flicking up to meet his, and Buck kind of thinks he might die.

“Well, I’d hoped it’d be more romantic than while you were naked and in pain in the bathtub.”

All the blood in his body rushes to his head like he’s on a rollercoaster, world suddenly flipped on its head. He sits up, jostling Eddie’s hand on his leg, but he just trails it down to hold Buck’s ankle instead. There’s still a faint blush on Eddie’s cheeks but he’s smiling expectantly, waiting for whatever response Buck has to that.

He’s coming up empty so far. The seconds stretch on in silence, until Eddie starts to look a little unsure.

“Buck?”

“You could try it now,” Buck says in a rush, hoping for once that first thought best thought is the right move. “If—I mean, this feels pretty—pretty romantic. To me.”

“Oh does it?” Eddie teases, and scoots closer, pulling Buck’s leg fully over his knees until his thigh rests on Eddie’s lap. Eddie puts a warm hand on his knee and squeezes.

“Mhm, definitely,” Buck agrees, nodding like a bobble head. “Most romantic moment of my life. By a lot.”

Eddie laughs, and cups Buck’s face with his free hand. The leftover cream on his hands makes Buck’s cheek tingle, and he waits, hardly daring to breathe while Eddie’s eyes track over his face. And then Eddie leans in and brushes his lips between his eyebrows.

“Eddie,” Buck breathes.

Eddie moves to his birthmark, pressing gentle kisses to the pink skin above his brow and on his eyelid. He kisses Buck’s cheeks and nose and then, just when Buck thinks his heart might actually give out, his waiting mouth.

It’s brief, and sweet, and the best kiss of his life. Eddie pulls back too soon and Buck tries to follow, but Eddie kisses his forehead again instead and leans back.

“That was more how I pictured it.”

And that’s a revelation in itself, one that he’s going to need a few weeks to process. Before he can stutter out a response, Eddie gently sets Buck’s leg on the floor and stands, offering his hand.

“C’mon. You’re not sleeping out here on that leg.”

Buck takes his hand, and Eddie pulls him to his feet. His leg barely even protests, but he sways closer to Eddie all the same.

“Eddie, I—you should know, I—”

Eddie silences him with another kiss. “Tell me tomorrow, sweetheart. We’ve got time.”

—

[hamzahsbaby]

bestfriend!hamzah who finds your diary and despite his moral compass telling him to leave it alone, he opens it and reads it ⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚

warnings/notes: hamzah invading readers privacy obviously lol. pls don’t read peoples diaries/journals. this is all fiction and let’s ignore the fact that this is wrong and just see it as too bffs who yearn for each other badddddd. enjoy!

you had a long night; work and errands you’d been putting off for weeks that finally caught up. still, you wanted hamzah to come over for your weekly movie night. he argued with you, telling you ‘it’s okay, we can skip this week. get some rest’, but no, you were insistent on the fact that you wanted him over, you hadn’t skipped a movie night in over a year and you weren't willing to break that tradition tonight.

and now there hamzah was, laughing quietly to himself as you dozed off on the couch. "i am not going to fall asleep hamzah!" were your last words before you were in fact asleep on the couch, snoring and all.

without any hesitation hamzah scooped you up bridal style and brought you to your room to lay in your own bed, like he'd done countless times before. this wouldn't be the first time he'd have to let himself out because you fell asleep, it happened quite often actually. you liked that he took care of you, but part of you wishes he'd at least say bye before he left.

you adjusted in bed as hamzah tucked you in for the night, letting out a big sigh, too tired to even open your eyes. hamzah lingered for awhile, his hand at your hip. he always stayed a little longer than he'd ever actually admit to you if you asked him; but truthfully, he just liked watching you sleep. you looked beautiful. peaceful. perfect. maybe it was a comfort thing, maybe a bestfriend thing, or maybe a 'i'm in love with you and i don't want to leave just yet', kind of thing. which one? you weren't exactly sure. but you liked it.

hamzah sat at the edge of you bed, taking in the chaos that was better known as your bedroom. he could draw it from memory if anyone asked him too; your messy bookshelf filled with books you'd read over and over again, your collection of trinkets that only he had the patience to listen to you explain, or the pile of clothes that always occupied your vanity chair.

except this time he noticed something new he’d never seen before; your baby pink notebook titled 'journal' that you must have forgotten to tuck away after your chaotic day. it was out in the open, sitting right on your dresser.

hamzah mentally told himself 'no', that he couldnt do that to you. best friend's don't do that sort of stuff — break trust and promises. but his eyes lingered on it, he had the one thing that could tell him if you felt the same way for him all at his dispense. right in front of him sitting on your dresser. did all the stolen glances and late night messaging mean the same to you as it did to him?

he mumbled a quick "sorry" before grabbing your journal and hurrying outside your room to read the pages of your sacred diary. it was all normal stuff at first; you talking about how your morning coffee is your favorite part of your day, or how you had to get an oil change earlier that week and you always got scared when going to the car place alone, or what you did with your girls that day. but after some skimming, hamzah found his name. his heart dropped, scared that maybe he'd read something he wouldn't want to hear, or even worse, scared that you did feel the same and he'd have to go on and pretend.

"i'm not sure what i did in a past life to deserve someone like hamzah. he's the best person i've ever met. like seriously. he takes such good care of me. i don't say it to him much, but i appreciate him so much more than he thinks. today he said he likes listening to me talk, it's such a small sentence but it meant so much to me. i always thought i talked too much. it's so crazy to think that the thing you might dislike most about yourself, someone else loves most about you??? maybe i'm crazy but sometimes i wonder how different life would be if him and i were more than friends?? i dont know ?? anyways i have to go, he's coming over soon. i can't wait to see him!!"

hamzah swore he could break down in tears. there was no dramatic build up, just you talking about him so casually like he consumed your thoughts on a daily basis, and well, he did.

bad news for hamzah was now he'd have to go on and pretend he didn't just read what he did. but good news was; he'd gotten used to pretending. he'd gotten used to pretending he wasn't absolutely head over heels infatuated with you. pretending that those glances that lasted longer than they should have meant nothing to him. pretending that you weren't the only person he ever looked forward to seeing. pretending that he wasn't in love with you too.

[cuntygojo]

everything is romantic ft. armin arlert!

synopsis: a game of cat and mouse gets to be a little too much for armin.

content warning: nerdmin, sub!armin, dom!reader, armin has a tongue piercing, armin is a PERVERT, the glasses stay ON during sex, coming inside, not proofread, prob more but i’m a freakaleak and can’t keep track. wc: 943.

notes: not apologizing for anything that occurs in this fic, i need armin badly!!!!!

poor armin, you’ve been making him play this little game of cat and mouse far too long, and he doesn’t know how much more of it he can take.

a day goes by, and you’re purposely leaving your panties on the floor of the bathroom, but you swear up and down it was on accident!

“sorry ‘min, guess i forgot to grab them after my shower.” you’d say, eyelashes batting at him slowly.

“it’s okay, just please— be more careful.”

“i can’t make any promises.”

he sighs, walking back to his room to play overwatch.

no promises kept, the boy catches you changing with your bedroom door open a week later. he didn’t mean to look, he promises, his eyes moved on their own. he can’t help the fact that late at night, he imagines your body, and how soft it would feel— your hands teasing his cock oh so slowly.

by the time he’d start to lose track of it all, he heard something. at first, maybe it could’ve been confused as background noise people use for sleep, but the moans that followed after? definitely couldn’t. it was coming from your room.

fuck.

he tries to ignore it, but god, the way you sound is making him lose his mind. he can’t control the strain of his cock against his plaid sleep pants either. armin tries to think of something— anything to help him right now, but he’s far too distracted by your loud moans. he can’t help the way you sound when you whimper his name is driving him crazy.

he either needed to ignore it until you inevitably decide to torture him again, or finally put an end to your sick teasing.

he hesitates at your door, adjusting his glasses, and a hand hovering over the doorknob. should he knock? should he barge in? he decides on an answer in the middle, opening your door slowly and meticulously, just enough so he can see what you’re doing.

the poor boy nearly lets out an audible gasp at the sight. there you were, in the flesh, vibrator between legs. he’s frozen in shock— but his hard on is saying otherwise. fuck it, he thinks, it’s not like you’ll notice anyways, he speaks to himself as he slides down his boxers just enough to start touching his cock.

“o— oh god armin! you’re s’good, my good boy!”

armins cock twitches, keep calling me that please. his tip is red and sensitive, he’s waited too long to finally make himself feel good like this; thinking— no, seeing you like this is driving him wild. the blonde starts with a slow stroke, his cold hand wrapping around his warm cock, he can’t help but moan. armins eyes widen.

you turn your head to your door, finally noticing him. you let out an airy laugh before speaking,

“armin! took you long enough, come in!”

he gulps and tucks in his painful hard on, walking slowly into your room of the shared apartment.

“uhm, look— i’m really sorry that i—“

before he could finish, you’re standing up to kiss him, tongue slotting perfectly into his mouth. you feel the cold metal that adorns his mouth, giving yourself a second to admire it with your tongue. he lets out a little whine in response, your hand coming up to grasp the back of his neck as you deepen the kiss.

breaking the kiss, you lean him down onto your bed before whispering, “it’s okay, don’t worry.” he’s confused, and moreover aroused, so he lets you take the lead. “since we’re both already eager,” you start, rubbing your hand over his bulge, “why don’t we just skip to the good part?”

armin nods frantically, hands already moving towards your chest— which he’s obsessed with. you waste no time removing his pants, boxers following suit. body moving on its own, you begin to straddle armin, cupping his face in the process. so cute, you think.

“do you want me to fuck you, ‘min?”

eagerness taking over him, he guides his tip near your entrance, shuddering at your wetness. you ease down gently onto his cock with a moan, letting your hands roam as you pull up his shirt. you fingers tweak with his nipple, which is seemingly sensitive, because you feel his cock twitch inside of you.

letting out a giggle, you start to move up and down on him, making him let out a whimper. his hands grasp your hips tightly, almost as if to stop you from moving. he was strong sure, but your dedication to make him cum was stronger.

“listen baby,” you let out a moan, his cock pressing gentle kisses against your walls, “want you to cum inside, ‘kay?” he looks at you with the cutest puppy eyes, all you can do is smile down at him as you continue, “be my good boy ‘n do that for me, please?” it’s almost as if you’re begging for it, but you know he wants it just as you.

he’s thrusting into you as your bouncing gets sloppy, his grip never faltering, and his glasses sliding down his nose. you’re both a moaning mess, armin’s mouth open agape, he just can’t handle the pleasure anymore. for most it would be embarrassing how quick he came, but to you, it was the hottest thing ever.

you felt his cock twitching inside as he came with a whimper, and you quickly follow suit by clenching down onto him, gripping his chest. he starts laughing— laughing, and you were so confused.

“y’know,” he fixes his glasses, “if you wanted to do this from the start, you could’ve said so.”

[couch-potato28]

Imagine being a Blue Lock manager! ⚽️

VERSION XVI.

(a/n: YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST cause guess what? We hit a 100 followers omg 😭🎉 you don’t know how grateful I am, thank you so much for reading these I swear I’m gonna improve!! tyyy x 1000 love u 🫶! back to Hiori idk what took over me during my time writing this but I guess it fits the sentimental vibe so yeah lol ty for ur support again!)

Warning-none

wc: 1k

also: @ttheggrimrreaper @irethepotato @ohagiyoo ❤️

——————

FROM THE PROLOGUE:

“Congratulations L/N Y/N! Based on your results, you've earned your place in Blue Lock as the manager of player number…

…16, Hiori Yo.”

The more you read his name under the little icon, the more familiar it sounded.

While trying to recall a memory of anyone with the same surname, someone whispered behind you to their friend.

“Aren’t his parents famous? My mom used to talk about them.”

Bingo! Yes, that was it. His parents, famous athletes of Japan, their names printed in the newspaper your dad once read out loud during breakfast before moving on to the weather. Damn, does that mean you got an already talented prodigy?

Leaving the room with a satisfied smirk, you patted yourself on the shoulder, feeling smug about your luck.

Imagine being Hiori Yo’s manager.

——————

Hiori Yo who notices you trip and hit your arm while walking down the stairs before quickly recovering as you glance around, hoping no one saw your little incident. He can’t help but smile at your clumsiness across the field, watching you take a seat on a bench while pulling out some papers from a folder. He’s doing his warm-up exercises, running the usual laps, while wondering why didn’t you approach your player before the match, but figures you wanted to observe him first—so he carries on, silently reminding himself not to get distracted just because you’re pretty. You probably weren’t even his manager to begin with.

Your eyes stayed fixed on the cyan haired—despite his solid build and smooth moves, there was a certain softness in his features that made the boy much more captivating compared to his teammates. The quiet presence on the sidelines, making assists that turned into goals—ones that wouldn’t have happened without him.

As the match comes to an end, you try to get his attention by waving your hand before he notices you and nods.

“Hi! I saw ya—uh, waving to me right? I’m Hiori Yo nice to meet ya.” he smiles, giving you a warm handshake.

“Yes, I’m L/N Y/N, your new manager. Nice to meet you too!” gosh that smile was gonna be the death of him.

——————

•Hiori whose calm personality makes the everyday chaos seem just a bit more bearable than usual. He’s careful with his words, always being the first one to greet you in the morning before accompanying you to the cafeteria.

•Good listener especially when you’re rambling about how busy they made both of your schedules to be, barely giving any time to get to know each other better. He agrees while assuring you that friendly talks can always be squeezed in between breaks.

•Hiori is a well-built gentleman, doing what he’s instructed without a complaint, and gives all his attention to you during your suggestions for the games. He’ll speak up when needed, and respectfully shares his opinions.

•You don’t say anything but you notice it—the way the spark in his eyes seems to fade on the field, unlike when he spoke to you the other day about his love for gaming.

•Trains hard, early mornings and late nights are what he’s always been accustomed to. Not wanting to be left behind or get lazy, he often takes the extra effort to be better, making you happy to get such a hardworking person.

•On some days though—he’ll secretly stay up all night, playing video games without your knowing before the next day you catch him yawning a lot more than usual, rolling your eyes at his explanation.

•“Wasn’t worth pissing ya off but it felt nice to beat someone online after a hard day, y’know?”

•Months of working together means you get to know the boy better than ever, conversations often shared besides work and training plans. Yet the one topic he never talks about is his parents.

•Hiori who took a long time before he finally opened up, only letting you know basic details about him, carefully avoiding the topic of his childhood. You figured he wasn’t on good terms with his parents when you told him about yours—his smile barely visible, voice more quiet than usual.

•It happened on a rather tiring day—everyone, including Hiori was easily annoyed and by the time analysis came around, he broke down after a lost practice match, telling you everything that was weighing on his heart as he sobbed for comfort, spending the whole night in your arms.

•“So you don’t even like soccer?” you asked, his head on your shoulder as a small chuckle left his mouth.

•“No, not really anymore.”

•The things said that day were kept a secret—a special moment that made you one of his closest friends, forming an unbreakable bond between the two of you.

——————

AFTER THE U20 MATCH…

•Hiori changes his views on soccer, his playstyle evolving into something new, something better, and the spark in his eyes seemed to return for the first time after a while.

•God of fan service. He’s so chronically online it’s crazy. Knows all the memes, slangs, ships and phrases going around the internet that even his fans cringe whenever he uses them in interviews.

•Loves to raise his eyebrows while looking at a camera and once mouthed the word “kaisagi” when Kaiser and Isagi were arguing, the two boy barely keeping any distance, making it look like something else.

•While his screen time skyrockets, his sleep schedule reduces to a mere 5 hours a night, making you groan, and seriously consider confiscating his phone at the sight of dark circles under his eyes every morning.

•Often plays with fans, quickly gaining followers on each of his social media accounts.

•Hiori who’s been a big fan of the yogurt drink, Yakult, since his starter days, causing you to get him a collab with the brand, in hopes of getting free drinks for his training.

•You also make sure to try, and help with his mental health—offering a sheep plushie after a Bastard München win, telling him it helps to cope with loneliness and all that, making him laugh at your serious face. Says he doesn’t need it but can’t sleep without it since :)

•To be fair, you always knew you had a bright future ahead when they paired you with Hiori and when he tells you he’s looking forward to working with you even after the top 23 announcement?

•You happily agree, sharing the same sentiment—a quiet sense of reassurance washing over both of you.

[i-dont-even-know-anymore976]

my spine split from carrying us up the hill (i’m just getting colour back into my face)

a buddie relationship breakdown fic | 21.8k

tags: buck pov, buck centric, established relationship, break up, cheating, sad buck, emotional/psychological abuse, unhealthy relationship, eddie diaz bashing, 118 bashing, (tho i think it’s more critical but for the filters), season 7 au, in an au where buddie got together after the shooting, Relationship Breakdown, anti buddie, No Beta We Die Like Bobby Nash, (doesn’t in this fic)

It took Buck a moment to process what he saw before him.  Eddie — his arms wrapped around some woman. His face buried in her neck and his fingers brushing her skin.  The other man’s eyes widening, his face going pale as he realised they’d been caught.  Buck barely heard Eddie gasp Chris’s name — the boy motionless next to him as they stared at a ghost.  At Shannon.  At Chris’s mother — who Buck knew was dead.  Had been to the funeral and seen them both through the messy aftermath. Had helped this child mourn once and already knew he’d have to do it again.  Or: What if it was Buck instead of Marisol

in a surprise to everyone — and most of all me — i’ve actually written something ?? for the first time in like three years ?? wild

tbh i think that scene in 8.17 just reaffirmed everything i'd been slowly realising about buddie and why they could never work and it somehow manifested itself as this 😅

anyway - a lil excerpt for you all xx

He regretted it as soon as the dial tone sounded. Had let his thumb hover of the name — debating — for more than a few seconds before giving in to the urge to press call.

And yet — as soon as it actually started ringing — he knew he shouldn’t have done it.

That he was fine. That he was being dramatic, once again.

But he also knew he couldn’t just hang up. That it would create a panic — force them to call back — to ask questions.

“Doctor Copeland’s office,” it was a new receptionist. Her voice melodically neutral as she answered the phone, “May I ask who’s calling.”

Buck stumbled over his words for a second, before rushing to explain, “Uh — don’t worry. It was an accident.”

“Are you sure… Mr Buckley?” She drew out the question as if reading the name off a screen and Buck cursed whatever Caller ID system the psychologist’s office employed that still recognised his number.

Her tone more concerned as she asked again, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah — yeah, of course.” He felt almost breathless as the lies left his lips, “Just a wrong number. Pressed the wrong person by mistake. Sorry for any trouble.”

“Okay — then,” she sounded doubtful. “Well, we’re here if you ever need us, Mr Buckley. Don’t hesitate to ring back now. Okay? I know Doctor Copeland would be more than happy to fit you in.”

“Yeah—” he agreed half-heartedly. Desperate to get off the phone before he did something stupid like actually ask for an appointment.

Knowing it was pointless. That he was fine.

“Have a nice day then.”

He finally freed himself from the conversation. Heart racing like it usually only did when he’s had to run up six flights of stairs in full turn outs.

He forced himself to drop his phone onto the counter — hands shaking as he thought about reaching for it again — and made himself walk away instead.

Looked around the kitchen desperately for something to do and was relieved to spot the small stack of dishes from the night before.

They usually did them together. Buck drying as Eddie washed — accused of almost flooding the kitchen one too many times before Eddie had finally relegated him to the less dangerous of the tasks.

They’d been too tired the night before. Exhaustion dragging them towards bed and leaving the dishes to wait until the morning.

It had been happening more and more lately. Truthfully Buck couldn’t remember the last time they’d shared their little ritual. Meals eaten in a rush as they raced out the door to work — whoever drew the short straw and got home first left to do the tidy up.

At least if Buck didn’t end up eating alone. Eddie always out these days — the friendship he'd struck up with Tommy keeping him gone until late whenever they had the day off.

Chris, even more sociable than his father. Forever at a friend’s house, or out with the girl that he swore to Buck wasn’t a budding romance. Swindling invites for sleepovers through charm and good humour that a young Buck could never have dreamed of emulating.

Always clinging just a little too tight for people to ever really settle in his presence.

It left him alone most nights. At least the ones he didn’t spend at the firehouse, revelling in the thrum of activity. Instructions from Bobby as they cooked, Chim and Hen’s quiet rivalry as they wrestled for control of the TV remote.

Eddie sitting next to him in the engine — their legs brushing they were sat so close. Sometimes it felt like the most intimate they ever were anymore.

Never mind the way they’d clung to each other having rescued Bobby and Athena. Buck pressing into bruises to leave them there a little longer. To remind himself that Eddie had chosen him, that he loved him.

Not that he needed the reminder.

Buck knew that. Intrinsically. He did.

Read on AO3

[itsbushytailedfox]

Dcxdp

(Before I start, I'd like to note that I've never consumed any batman related content that isn't directly connect to Danny Phantom and it's been a years since I've seen Danny Phantom itself so I apologize if I mischaracterize the characters.)

(This is inspired by a post that I read months ago, but I can't find it, so I can't link it, sorry)

Dead serious. Danny x Damian

Damian started dating a civilian, Danny Nightingale. Damian could sit for hours hearing Danny ramble about the space and his friends. He loved seeing his eyes light up so beautifully when he took Danny to the planetarium. He loved how Danny's hand felt against him. He loved his sudden bursts of energy that he would use to press a multitude of kisses all over his face.

He deeply loved Danny.

But... lately, he's seen Danny getting too close to danger for his liking, and they all have been linked to him in some way, shape, or form. And if he had been any later, even a second later, in rescuing Danny, he could've lost him permanently. He would've seen his beloved grow cold- colder, Danny always tried to steal his warmth, being absolutely useless to do anything to save him. So he decided to distance himself to protect Danny. He would be content watching from afar...he won't.

Damian was terrible at communicating. It was something Danny noticed when he first started hanging out with Damian. So when Damian wasn't answering his calls or messages as often as before, Danny assumed it was a bad week for Damian, so he gave him his space. He would wait for Damian to come to him and attempt to get him to talk it out before it build up. But then contact became scares and his worrying multipled ten fold. He wished Damian would tell him what was going on so he wouldn't lose sleep worrying.

Til one day, he was on his phone and came across an article with a photo. A picture of Damian with a beautiful girl (you decided who it is) at his side with the title of "Damian Wayne and potential lover?!?!". He felt his heart break slightly and forced himself to read the article with explained the closeness they witnessed between the two with more pictures. (Damian wasn't dating or looking for another relationship. I think he'd be someone who would have a hard time moving on from someone) Danny just sighed and turned off his phone before crying silently. He knows he shouldn't believe everything online, especially with how the internet is to vastly misinterpret things, but with Damian sudden distance and lack of contact, what was he supposed to think. After that, he stopped trying to reach out to Damian and tried to move on.

(FYI, Damian never let his family know of his relationship with Danny, knowing his family could possibly scare danny away, and Danny was oblivious to Damian being a Wayne. Also I know ages are weird with DC but danny is older than Damian but younger than Tim)

Danny eventually ended up meeting Tim and was initially wary of him, Tim being rich an all but eventually wormed himself into Danny's heart. (And so on and so forth. Sorry I don't know how to go on from here. But if anyone continues this, please 🙏 make Damian absolutely jealous at having to watch his ex and brother be together especially since he wanted to reconnect with Danny to get back together with him after working on his confidence on his vigilante life.)

[thoughtsforsoob]

Hiii! I have a request for you but it's okay if you don't want to do it! But can you do gangster mingi x girlfriend again? I loved you're writing! Tyyy <33

a/n: I hope you enjoy this anonie! I hope this won't be too far from your expectations! I wanted to do something angsty so I hope you’re okay with that <3 Please enjoy and leave more requests as I am on break and have plenty of writing time. 

Your mingi was never late coming home. Even if he had stuff going on with his gang, he was never once last for dinner. Never. So, when he did not show up for dinner today, you started to get really worried. Your mind was riddled with thoughts of him either being hurt or worse…dead. 

The possibility of him dying and you not finding out until later was something you understood. It came with him being gang related. As much as this fact made you upset and sad, you had to accept it if you wanted to stay with Mingi. 

As soon as you realized he was going to be late, you started to blow up his phone. Another thing about Mingi is that he always answered his phone. He never let it ring more than three times when it came to your calls. All else could wait when his girl was calling him. 

When the calls were not going through, all straight to voicemail, you really started to get scared. Tears started to roll down your cheeks because of all of the images going through your head. He could be dead in a ditch somewhere and you wouldn't find out until some news channel reported on it or someone made a social media post about it. You were not ready to let go of your dear boyfriend. 

Since you had no idea where he was or where he could be, you decided to just try to calm down. Besides, what were you to do? Getting too sad or worried would lead you nowhere. Mingi could just be having an off day and that's why he’s late. 

You ate your dinner slowly and watched videos on your phone to hopefully distract yourself. It was starting to work when you heard a sudden knock at the door of your apartment. Quicker than ever, you rushed to the door and looked out of the peephole. Your eyes were met with a battered up Mingi. Even if you couldn't see him in detail quite yet, your heart was broken in half. The door flew open and you quickly pulled him into the living room. 

He hadn’t uttered a single word in fear that you were angry at him. Not only was he late but he was badly beaten. He knew you didn't like either of those things. You on the other hand were in shock. His lips were busted in multiple spots, both his eyes were purple, his face was scratched up, his clothes were torn, he was missing his shoes, and his shirt was bloody. Mingi seemed to be unable to hold the weight of his own body. Nothing would make your heart break more than the sight in front of you. Your big, strong, sturdy boyfriend was reduced to a helpless boy. 

After examining him, you throw yourself into his chest and hold him close, making sure to not hurt any wounds that weren’t visible under his shirt. Mingi took the hint and held you back. Your heart broke even more at his weak grip and the faint beat of his heart. 

Looking up at him after a few moments, you finally speak up, “Mingi? What happened? I was so worried about you, baby.” You spoke to him in a gentle, soft voice. You didn’t want to spook him or worry him but unmasking your true concern. 

He shook his head with shame, “We got caught up in a fight and we were outnumbered. Good thing they stopped when some more backup showed up. They would have killed us for sure.” He let out a little chuckle but when he looked down at you, you weren't laughing at all. You, in fact, started sobbing again. You did not like the thought of mingi dying. 

“That’s not funny, babe. Don’t joke about dying. I seriously thought I'd lost you.” You spoke between loud sobs, wiping your eyes with your sleeves and sniffing like crazy. 

He took the hint and nodded, “I'm sorry, my love. Promise I won’t do that anymore. I swear. Hey, look on the bright side, I'm here and breathing. I’m not going anywhere for a long time. Okay? Please don’t cry anymore.”

He wiped away the remaining tears with his hands, even if they were a little dirty from the scuffle. You didn’t care. His touch was too comforting to care about some silly dirt on his fingers. 

Once you stopped crying, you quickly went to serve him dinner. This confused him but he followed you anyway. He figured you wanted to clean him up first. You insisted he eat first, “Your belly is empty. You won't be able to handle the pain when I disinfect your cuts if you’re not nourished. Eat up, it’s your favorite.” You serve him a plate and he couldn’t be happier. It was, in fact, his favorite food.

[clone-anon]

hello💙 I hope you are having a wonderful day! I’ve been struggling lately and your blog is such a big comfort for me 🫂 May I make a request please? I am autistic but high masking lower support needs but lately I’ve been feeling so lonely and broken inside. If you have time would you mind doing something about a similar female bonding with Tech romantically or the batch as a whole platonically, or even both smooshed together? I can’t thank you enough for helping me get through the tough days!🫂

Of course! I relate to this too, so hopefully this helps.

Tech x Reader with some brotherly batch love too

You worked as quickly as you could while Tech flew. Of course something had to break during an incredibly boring supply run. Hunter watched you and sighed. He wasn't sure how to help and just gave Wrecker a look. All Wrecker and Crosshair could really do was watch over you since they weren't sure how to make the task go any faster and it seemed to be upsetting you.

Your mind flew with everything that needed to be accomplished to get the data pad in working order. Each little piece had a job and you and Tech were the only ones who had spent any time really examining everything. You were both dependable when it came to these kind of things. You put up a good face, but it was starting to break. It was as if by working faster you could get the job sooner before the inevitable collapse of your spirit.

You closed up the back of the data pad and pushed the buttons. It worked now and Crosshair quickly took it from your hands. He wasn't harsh, but a nod of thanks and a silent acknowledgement that he knew you needed a break. Wrecker scooted over so you could sit next to him as Tech and Echo flew the ship. You were too zoned out to hear Hunter's worried comment about you. Echo was worried too. He could see the burnout coming, something not wholly unfamiliar to him, but he didn't know what to do. You seemed too stubborn to actually rest as if not taking care of things meant you were somehow lost.

"She needs to rest," Tech said. "I confess I don't know how to help."

"We make you sleep," Echo replied flatly.

"Yes, but I am comfortable with all of you. She does not know us as well."

Hunter calmly answered, "I know that, but I think you're the best one to connect with her. Besides, she likes you. We can all see that."

"Very well," Tech said. "I will do my best."

Once the ship landed, everyone hopped onto the safety of Pabu once again. Wrecker, Crosshair, and Hunter worked to unload the supplies while Echo comm'd Rex with some intel. You wandered over to join the boys, but Tech approached you and cleared his throat.

"Do you mind joining me?" he asked.

You followed him down the path to a quiet spot. Two birds chirped and flew off toward another tree. Tech shifted where he sat.

"You are struggling," was all he could say.

"Is it that obvious?" you asked with a sinking heart.

"Not to most people, I imagine."

You sat silently for a moment before he reached out his hand, palm up. An offering. You placed your hand in his and felt a gentle squeeze and with that a wave of emotion crested throughout you. He put his other hand on your back.

"I feel so disconnected," you let out. "What is wrong with me?"

"Absolutely nothing," he assured.

You both noticed you were still out in the open. Tech tried to shield you from the walking path nearby, but you shook your head.

"Can we go back to mine?" you asked.

He nodded and you led the way, still holding his hand. It was a short walk you both knew well and you breathed a sigh of relief once the door was closed behind you.

"I am not sure what to do in this situation," Tech admitted. "What would help?"

You knew but felt a little scared to say. You were used to taking care of yourself and being as little a burden as possible. Your insides rattled with need while your mind tried to calm you in the familiar way you'd tamed it to. Tech just looked at you, waiting. Before you could stop yourself you started walking to the bedroom, took your boots off, and sat on the bed.

"I am unsure what you-"

"Hold me," you interjected. "Nothing more. I need to be close to someone."

"Ah." Tech took his own boots off and laid down on the bed and opened his arms to welcome you in.

He added, "When we were cadets and I was overwhelmed, Wrecker would hold me. It helped. This is different, of course."

"Yeah?" you softly inquired.

"Yes," he said with a soft honesty. "I care for you deeply and in a different way."

You pressed yourself closer to him and could hear his heart beat. The rhythm was soothing.

Tech thought for a moment and asked, "Do you often feel alone?"

"Yeah," you admitted.

"I have always had my brothers, but I understand the loneliness of not being understood."

You looked up at him with sad, but hopeful eyes and nodded.

"Maybe we can have each other," you suggested.

"We do have each other," Tech said. He instinctively rested his cheek on the top of your head.

A shiver went down both your spines as the sky darkened through the window and it started to rain. You reluctantly grabbed an extra blanket and tossed it over him before he opened up his arms to what now felt like a safe cocoon.

"Is this alright?" he asked as you tried to get comfortable again.

You nodded and asked if he was okay. He nodded back at you and held you close. The contact was as soothing as feeling understood. You both knew what it was like to hold many thoughts and feelings and while there was much left unsaid, this was the beginning of a deep love.

[fallingcoups]

hey!

you ask and you shall receive asks!!! hehe

what do you think about woozi as a single girl dad and the reader as soonyoung's sister. like she never knew he was a dad, let alone single dad because it's been years since she saw him and they are all back together to meet because soonyoung is getting married and all. something like that?

Woozi as a single girl dad and the reader being Soonyoung’s younger sister who hasn’t seen him in years?👀

It's my first time writing this kind of story/fic so any feedback would really help me improve and learn more.🫶🏽 Thank you so much everyone and I hope you reading!💓

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Home🏡

♡ Woozi x reader

♡ words : 452 words

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Soonyoung’s wedding was the first time all thirteen of them were back in one place in years. And for you, it was your first time seeing most of them again since college, when you were known as “Soonyoung’s little sister” who always tagged along with him.

You weren’t expecting much. Just laughter, chaos, and a little nostalgia.

What you didn’t expect was Lee Jihoon walking in with a little girl tucked into his arms.

You blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice.

“Is that Jihoon?”

Soonyoung leaned over and whispered, “Yeah, that’s Jihoon’s daughter. Her name is Jieun.”

You stared. Jihoon? A father?

It wasn’t until later that night, during the dinner, that you found yourself standing next to him again. He looked older not in a bad way. Just softer. He still had his usual quiet aura, but now there was a gentleness about him, especially whenever he looked at his daughter playing and having fun.

“You’re good with her,” you said, breaking the silence.

Jihoon turned to you. “I have to be. She’s all I’ve got.”

Something tugged in your chest.

“I didn’t know,” you said softly.

“Many people don’t. I don’t talk about it much. Her mother left a few years ago. I didn’t think I’d raise her alone, but she’s my whole world now.”

You watched him as he looked at his daughter, his eyes full of love. He wasn’t just Jihoon the genius producer anymore. He was Jihoon, the father. And somehow, that made him even more admirable.

The weekend passed. You found yourself helping him tie tiny shoes, holding his daughter's hand while he fixed her hair, even sitting with them during meals. She clung to you like she’d known you forever.

“She likes you,” Jihoon said one night as you helped put her to bed.

You smiled, brushing Jieun's hair gently as she dozed off. “She’s easy to love.”

---

1 year later

The wedding had long passed, but something stayed. Messages turned into late-night calls. Weekend visits turned into sleepovers where Jieun demanded bedtime stories from “Auntie Y/N.”

And one spring evening, Jihoon stood in your kitchen with Jieun perched on his hip.

“She asked me today if you’re going to live with us soon,” he said with a soft laugh.

You paused. “And what did you say?”

“I told her I hope so. Because I want that, too.”

Your heart swelled. You took a step closer, placing your hand on Jieun's back and smiling at him.

“I guess we better start making room for my books then.”

Jieun cheered.

Jihoon leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. “Thank you for choosing us.”

You kissed his cheek. “There was never anyone else I’d want to be with.

Feedbacks

English is not my first language, sorry if my grammar is incorrect. 🍚

[alittlegiraffe]

heyyy, how do u do?

I love your stories, u make my days better, hope u never stop 💓

Anyway, do u have any ideas for new stories? I loved drowning, its my favorite, do u think ur going to do smth like that soon?

Hugs

Title: “What Ifs”

You didn’t remember the sound of your own voice much these days.

Only the sounds that haunted you: the sharp beeping of machines, the hiss of oxygen, the coded phrases doctors used when someone was slipping away. They played on repeat in your mind like a lullaby written by grief itself.

That night was a blur—your fingers clumsy as you dialed 911, your voice breaking as you begged them to hurry. The image that never left was the way he looked slumped over in the bathroom. Lifeless. Blue-lipped. Cold.

They said it was close. Too close.

He came back to you.

But something inside you never did.

At first, you held it in. You smiled when the girls came home. You washed the blood out of the bathroom tiles before he ever saw it. You curled into his side in the hospital bed when he was lucid enough to know you were there. And you whispered, “Don’t you ever fucking leave me again.”

He promised he wouldn’t.

But now… weeks later… maybe months? You weren’t sure anymore. The days blurred. The promise didn’t silence the fear.

You couldn’t stop imagining it happening again. Every time he was late getting home. Every time you heard a siren in the distance. Every time you walked past the bathroom door and had to breathe through the memory of him on the floor, pupils blown and pulse fading.

You were stuck there. Still there.

You didn’t tell him. You couldn’t. Not when he was trying so hard. Meetings. Therapy. Sober. Focused. Present.

Everyone was so proud of him. You were proud of him.

But you were also terrified. And so, so tired.

Some nights, you stood in the kitchen with your hands braced on the counter, eyes shut tight against the crushing silence. The kids were asleep. He was working late. And the house felt like a tomb filled with echoes of almost.

Almost lost him. Almost widow. Almost gone.

You hated yourself for it—how you’d sit on the edge of the tub, shaking, your mind whispering things you didn’t want to hear.

He’s going to do it again.

You’ll find him again.

You’ll be alone.

The thoughts circled like vultures. You couldn’t outrun them. Couldn’t talk them down. You just let them whisper. Because fighting took too much energy. And honestly… part of you didn’t want to fight anymore.

Whitney was the one who cracked the surface.

Marshall had been gone for twelve hours—late session, he’d said. You knew he was probably just tired. Probably sober. Probably fine.

But that didn’t stop you from sitting on the couch in the dark, biting the skin around your thumb until it bled.

When he came in around midnight, Whitney was still up. She’d been sleeping poorly lately, climbing into your bed more often. You hadn’t questioned it.

But that night, she tugged on his hoodie and whispered, “Daddy… why does Mommy cry when you work late?”

He froze.

He told her he’d be right back. Kissed her forehead. Tucked her in.

And then he came into the living room and looked at you like he was really seeing you for the first time in weeks.

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t even look at him. Just stared at the turned-off TV screen like it might offer an answer to the ache in your chest.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, voice low.

You flinched. Your voice was hoarse. “Tell you what?”

“That you’re not okay.”

You let out a breath that was half a laugh, half a sob. “Would it have helped?”

He sat beside you. Not too close—like he was scared he’d break you if he did. “I almost died,” he said slowly, carefully. “But I didn’t. I’m here.”

“And what if you hadn’t made it?” Your voice cracked. “What if next time you don’t? What if I walk in and find you again? What the fuck am I supposed to do then, Marshall?”

He opened his mouth, then shut it. Because there was no answer. Not one that could make this okay.

You shook your head, biting down hard on the inside of your cheek. “I can’t breathe when you’re gone. I can’t sleep. I can’t function because I keep seeing you like that. And I know it’s selfish. I know you’re trying so hard. But I’m not... I’m not okay. I haven’t been okay since they put you in that hospital bed and told me you might not wake up.”

He looked like he wanted to reach for you. Like he wanted to fix it. But he couldn’t.

You stood up before he could say anything. “I don’t need a speech. Or more promises. I just need… I need space to be fucked up about this, okay?”

He stood too. Hesitant. “You’re not alone.”

“I feel alone.” The words sliced the air between you. You didn’t mean them to hurt. But they did. For both of you.

He stepped closer. “Then let me help.”

Your eyes met his. And for a moment, you wanted to believe he could.

But that weight in your chest—the one that had settled in the night of the overdose—it didn’t lift.

You let him pull you into a hug. Let yourself cry into his shoulder. But even as he held you, the thoughts were still there.

Still whispering.

What if he relapses.

What if he dies.

What if you can’t survive it next time.

You wanted to believe you’d be okay. That you would heal the way he was trying to. But the truth was you didn't know if you ever would be again.

---

The house was quieter without him.

Marshall had flown out to L.A. to work on a new album—only for a week, maybe two—but it felt like months were being carved out of your chest with every hour that passed.

You told him you were fine. That you were managing. You kissed the phone camera when he FaceTimed you and said all the right things: The girls are great. We miss you. I'm proud of you. Just focus on the music, baby.

He believed you. Or maybe he wanted to.

You were getting better at lying. Smiling with dead eyes. Keeping your voice steady. Laughing just enough.

The girls didn’t notice.

Or maybe they did and just didn’t want to say anything.

You packed their lunches every morning, double-checked their homework, asked about their friends. You braided Whitney’s hair before school and helped Alaina pick out outfits for her internship. Hailie texted you often from campus: Love you. You okay?

You always replied: I’m good, promise.

But underneath it all, the what ifs were eating you alive.

What if he didn’t come back?

What if something happened to him out there?

What if he relapsed and no one saw it coming?

You didn’t sleep anymore. Not really. Maybe two hours a night if the fear didn’t spike hard enough to pull you out of bed. Sometimes you wandered the house like a ghost, sitting on the stairs until dawn, just to hear the girls breathing in their rooms.

They were your reason to stay. They had to be.

But some nights, even they couldn’t silence the scream inside your skull.

On the sixth day, the house felt wrong. Like it had been hollowed out and filled with fog.

The girls were at school. The morning sun was pouring through the windows. You stood barefoot in the kitchen staring at a cup of coffee that had long gone cold, hands trembling slightly.

You couldn’t remember if you’d eaten. Or if you’d showered. You looked down and realized you were still in the same clothes you’d worn yesterday.

The silence felt louder than your thoughts.

You couldn’t call Marshall. Couldn’t text him this. What would you even say?

Hey, I’m falling apart again and all I can think about is dying while you’re out there building a new chapter of your life.

No. You wouldn’t do that to him. You wouldn’t drag him down with you.

You went outside instead. Let the sunlight hit your face. The pool shimmered in the backyard, reflecting a sky that was too blue for how numb you felt inside.

You sat at the edge of the water, fingers ghosting across the surface. It was cool. Calming.

And for one long, breathless moment, the thoughts grew louder than ever.

What if you just let go?

What if you slipped in and didn’t come back up?

It would be easy. So quiet. So peaceful. No mess. No pain.

The girls would be okay. They had Marshall. They had each other.

They didn’t need you. Not really. You were just the one holding it together by bloody fingernails. You were the one who couldn’t sleep. Who couldn’t breathe. Who kept picturing the worst case in every moment, every phone call, every silence.

You stood up.

And stepped into the water.

The cold shocked your skin, but you didn’t flinch. You kept walking. Deeper. Until your toes lost contact with the floor.

You sank.

Eyes open. Hair fanning around your face like seaweed. Sunlight shimmered above, but you let yourself float down until it all blurred.

And you thought—this is what peace feels like.

The splash was loud, but you didn’t hear it. You were already fading out.

Then: a second, heavier splash. Strong hands grabbed under your arms. You broke the surface coughing, choking, flailing weakly until a voice grounded you.

“What the fuck—what the fuck are you doing?!”

Nate.

His voice cracked with panic as he dragged you toward the edge of the pool. You tried to speak, but water and shame clawed up your throat. You collapsed against him, gasping.

He pulled you up onto the pool deck, chest heaving, his hands shaking as they hovered over your soaked clothes, your wide, dazed eyes. “Jesus Christ. Jesus. I thought you were fucking dead.”

You blinked up at him, trembling. Your lips moved, but no words came out.

“I—I just…” You shook your head, voice barely a rasp. “I didn’t mean to.”

But you did.

God help you, you did.

He cursed under his breath and ran a hand through his wet hair. “Marshall told me to check on you. Said he had a bad feeling. Fucking hell, he’s gonna—” He stopped himself, squeezing his eyes shut. “Let’s get you inside. C’mon.”

You didn’t fight him when he wrapped a towel around your shoulders. You didn’t speak when he sat you down on the couch and handed you a glass of water with hands that wouldn’t stop trembling.

You just stared at the floor.

The silence stretched too long. Until Nate finally said, voice low and uncharacteristically gentle, “You gotta tell him. You can’t hide this anymore.”

Your throat closed up.

You didn’t nod. You didn’t cry. You just stared at the wet footprints across the floor and thought about how easy it had been to start sinking.

And how close you’d come to not coming back.

---

Your skin was still cold, even wrapped in the towel Nate had thrown around you. The chill wasn’t just from the water—it came from somewhere deeper. Bone-deep. Soul-deep.

You sat curled on the couch, dripping onto the hardwood floor, your fingers white-knuckled around the glass of water in your lap.

Nate stood across the room, pacing. Cursing under his breath. His soaked clothes clung to him like guilt.

Then he pulled out his phone.

You knew what he was about to do. Knew the name he was about to tap.

You were on your feet before you even realized it, water sloshing in the glass as it hit the floor. Your hand lashed out and snatched the phone from his fingers.

“No!”

He stared at you—stunned.

You held the phone against your chest, breath ragged, your voice rasping and broken from the water still burning in your throat.

“He can’t know, Nathan.”

Nate’s brow furrowed, hardening with disbelief. “You almost drowned, and you don’t want me to tell your husband?”

Your voice cracked as you forced out, “You can’t tell him.”

He looked at you like you’d grown a second head, frustration flaring behind his eyes. “You think he won’t notice you tried to kill yourself? Jesus, he sent me here because he knew something was wrong.”

“I wasn’t trying to—” You stopped. The words caught in your throat like thorns. “I just… I just wanted it to stop for a minute. The noise. The fear. I wanted to feel nothing.”

Nate scrubbed a hand over his face, turning away for a second like he couldn’t stand to see you like this. “That’s not better, [Y/N]. That’s not something you hide from him.”

“He’s working,” you whispered. “He’s doing better. He’s healing. I can’t—” Your voice broke completely, your knees starting to tremble again. “I can’t be the reason he falls apart. Not now.”

“He won’t,” Nate said sharply. “He’d fly back tonight if he knew. He’d drop everything for you, and you know that.”

You closed your eyes, a tear rolling down your cheek and slipping into the corner of your mouth, still tasting like chlorine. “Exactly.”

That silenced him.

Because you didn’t need to explain it any further.

You were afraid that if he came back and saw what was really left of you… it would break him.

He was still holding his sobriety together with raw hope and new habits.

He needed distance to stay strong.

He didn’t need to be dragging your dead weight with him.

“I’ve already taken enough from him,” you whispered. “I can’t be the thing that ruins his recovery.”

Nate stared at you for a long moment. The fight slowly drained from his face, replaced by something heavier: sorrow. Helplessness.

“I get it,” he said finally. Quiet. “But what if next time I’m not here in time?”

You didn’t answer.

Because you didn’t know.

You held out the phone to him with shaking fingers. “Please… don’t call him. Just… give me time. I’ll fix it. I’ll be okay.”

He didn’t take the phone.

But he didn’t call Marshall either.

He just sank down on the arm of the chair across from you, eyes never leaving your face.

“I’m not leaving you alone,” he said. “I’ll sleep on the damn floor if I have to.”

You didn’t argue.

You just sat there, soaked and silent, shivering in a towel that didn’t warm you.

Because the truth was: you were afraid of being alone.

You were afraid of what your mind would do with the silence.

---

The plane touched down just after noon.

Marshall hadn’t planned on coming back early—but something hadn’t felt right for days. Your texts were short. Flat. Off. Nate had been oddly cagey too, even through phone calls.

Marshall had a sixth sense for this kind of shit. And when he didn’t feel you at the other end of the line anymore, he packed his bag and got the next flight home.

The house was quiet when he got in. Too quiet.

You weren’t at the door.

The girls weren’t home from school yet.

But Nate’s car was still in the driveway.

Marshall frowned, dragging his bag inside and kicking off his shoes. “Yo?” he called.

No answer.

He found Nate in the kitchen—leaning against the counter, scrolling through his phone with a furrowed brow. The moment he looked up and saw Marshall, his face dropped.

“Shit.”

“What the fuck are you still doing here?” Marshall asked, eyes narrowing. “You were only supposed to check in. That was six days ago.”

Nate didn’t answer right away.

That hesitation was enough.

Marshall’s stomach dropped. His heart started to pound.

“Nate.”

Nate looked like he was chewing glass as he put his phone down. “She told me not to call you. Begged me not to.”

Marshall’s voice sharpened. “Why? What the hell happened?”

“Something bad.”

Marshall moved so fast the chair scraped behind him. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“She walked into the pool.”

Silence.

Just—dead, suffocating silence.

“What?” The word came out like a whisper, like the breath had been punched out of him.

Nate swallowed hard. “I found her floating. Unconscious. Half-drowned.”

Marshall staggered back a step, eyes wide. “You—You didn’t fucking tell me?!”

“She made me swear. She was a wreck. She thought if you knew, you’d drop everything and relapse or spiral or—hell, I don’t know, man! I didn’t know what to do. I stayed. I didn’t leave her alone once. I slept on the goddamn floor like a watchdog, but I couldn’t call you. She wouldn’t let me.”

Marshall’s hands curled into fists at his sides, shaking. His jaw was tight enough to crack a tooth. “And you listened to her?”

“I thought it was one-time. An episode. She said she’d be okay. I believed her.”

“You lied to me.” His voice was low, guttural. Dangerous.

“I did,” Nate said quietly. “Because she looked me in the eyes and said she’d kill herself if I made that call. What the fuck would you have done?”

Marshall spun away, running both hands over his face, tugging at his hair. His entire body was vibrating with tension, with rage and panic and grief. “I would’ve come home. I would’ve come the fuck home, Nate.”

“She didn’t want you to fall apart, man.”

“I am falling apart,” he snapped, turning back toward him. “You think I can breathe knowing I was across the fucking country while she was drowning in our backyard?!”

Nate didn’t speak.

There was nothing else to say.

You heard the yelling before you saw them.

Your heart dropped as you descended the stairs, still in the hoodie you hadn’t changed out of since yesterday, sleeves pulled down over your wrists like armor.

Marshall saw you the moment you stepped into the hallway. The look on his face made your breath hitch—anger, fear, betrayal all crashing together in one devastating storm behind his eyes.

He stepped toward you.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

You froze.

“I—I couldn’t,” you said, voice rough. Raw. “I didn’t want you to see me like that.”

“I needed to see you like that!” he shouted, chest heaving. “You think protecting me means hiding the fact you were ready to die? You think I’m so fragile you’d rather drown alone than pick up the fucking phone?!”

Tears hit your eyes instantly, hot and blinding.

“I didn’t want to break you,” you whispered. “You were finally doing okay.”

“And you’re not!” he exploded. “Jesus, [Y/N], I almost fucking lost you. You think that helps me stay clean? You think knowing you were ready to let go while I was in a studio thousands of miles away keeps me steady?! It makes me wanna fucking crawl out of my skin.”

“I’m sorry,” you choked out, barely standing. “I’m so fucking sorry, I just—I didn’t see any other way out. Everything’s too loud. And I was so tired of pretending to be okay for everyone else.”

His eyes glossed over. He stepped forward again, slower this time, the fury in his face giving way to something softer—more shattered.

He reached for you. You flinched.

That killed him.

“Don’t do that,” he said, voice cracking. “Don’t pull away. Not from me.”

You let him touch you this time—let his arms wrap around you and hold you like he’d never let go again.

And maybe he wouldn’t.

But you didn’t feel saved. Not yet.

You felt seen.

And somehow, that hurt even more.

---

The house was silent now.

Marshall had closed every door behind him like he was afraid the noise might break you. Like even the slam of a cupboard might shatter what little was holding you together.

You sat on the edge of the bed in a different hoodie now—his. You couldn’t look him in the eye. You hadn’t since he pulled you into his arms hours ago and realized how thin you’d gotten, how distant your skin felt.

He was pacing in the bedroom, slow and tight, arms folded across his chest like he was holding himself in. He hadn’t raised his voice again. He hadn’t accused you. He hadn’t even looked angry—at you.

But every time the floor creaked in the hallway, every time Nate’s footsteps moved downstairs, something in Marshall twitched.

You finally spoke, voice barely there. “You’re mad at him.”

He didn’t answer right away.

Then: “Yeah.”

You nodded like you understood. Because you did. But also… “He kept me alive.”

Marshall ran a hand over his face, sighing hard. “He shouldn’t have had to.”

You looked down at your hands. “He was scared.”

“I’m scared,” Marshall snapped, more bitter than loud. “I’ve been scared since the second I walked in this house and realized something was wrong. But you don’t lie to someone about that kind of shit, [Y/N]. You don’t sit there texting me ‘everything’s fine’ while you’re drowning in the fucking pool.”

You didn’t argue.

You couldn’t.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, keeping a sliver of space between you—like he was afraid to crowd you, but more afraid not to be close.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked again, but gentler this time. Softer.

Your throat ached. “Because you were happy.”

“That doesn’t mean I stop loving you.”

You didn’t realize tears were falling until he reached over and brushed them from your cheeks, his fingertips careful, like you might bruise.

“I love you when it’s dark too,” he said. “Don’t shut me out when you’re hurting. That’s when I need to be there.”

You leaned into his hand, your body giving in even if your mind still wanted to run.

After a moment, you whispered, “Don’t be too hard on Nate. Please.”

He pulled back slowly, jaw clenching. “He should’ve fucking told me.”

“I begged him not to.”

He shook his head. “He could’ve told me without you knowing. He could’ve lied to you and told me the truth. Hell, I would’ve lied to you, if it meant keeping you safe.”

You almost smiled. Almost.

He wasn’t wrong.

He stood again and crossed the room, tension radiating off him as he stared out the window. “He’s sleeping here again tonight?”

“Yeah. He said he’s not leaving until you’ve calmed down enough to punch him or forgive him.”

Marshall scoffed, rubbing the back of his neck.

You shifted slightly, voice softer now. “He sat by the bathroom door every time I took a shower. Slept downstairs with one eye open. Took the knives out of the kitchen. He didn’t just keep a secret, Marshall. He kept me. Here. Breathing.”

He didn’t say anything, but you saw his shoulders dip. Just a little.

“I’m still mad,” he muttered after a moment.

“I know.”

“But I’m… grateful, too.”

“I know that, too.”

He turned back toward you, eyes tired, face worn. “I’m gonna talk to him.”

You nodded. “Just don’t yell.”

“I won’t.”

“...Don’t hit him.”

He almost smiled. “I probably won’t.”

You breathed out a weak laugh. It hurt, but it felt good, too.

He crossed back to you, pulled you in with one arm and kissed your forehead. “We’ll get through this,” he murmured. “Okay?”

You nodded into his chest, letting yourself believe it. Just a little.

Even if the shadows still pressed close.

Even if the ache didn’t go away overnight.

Even if you didn’t feel fixed.

At least now—you weren’t pretending anymore.

---

The house was quiet again by midnight. You’d fallen asleep—finally—curled up in the corner of the bed, wrapped in one of Marshall’s hoodies like a blanket made of memories. He’d watched you for a long time before leaving the room, the sound of your breathing anchoring him to the floor.

Now he stood in the kitchen, jaw tight, fists looser than before but still not fully unclenched.

Nate sat at the table, arms folded, like he’d been waiting all night for this.

“You lied to me.”

Marshall’s voice wasn’t raised.

It was worse than that.

It was quiet.

Nate let out a long breath. “Yeah.”

“I needed to hear it from you. Not walk in on it days later like a goddamn stranger in my own life.”

“I know.”

Marshall moved to the fridge, pulled out a bottle of water just to give his hands something to do. Something that wasn’t breaking a wall or slamming a door.

He unscrewed the cap but didn’t drink it.

“Why?”

Nate’s jaw twitched. He looked up finally, and his eyes were already red. “Because she asked me to.”

Marshall’s laugh was sharp and bitter. “And that was enough?”

“No,” Nate snapped, louder than he meant to. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “No, it wasn’t fucking enough. I’ve been sleeping with one ear open for six days wondering if she was gonna disappear between breaths. Do you know what it feels like to check if someone’s still alive every hour?”

Marshall’s spine stiffened. His anger started to simmer again, but before he could say anything, Nate stood up.

“She’s not just your wife, Em,” he said, voice low, but full. “She’s—she’s the first person who ever gave a shit if I was okay. She used to sneak me out of school when our mom forgot to pick me up. She used to buy me birthday presents when Deb forgot. She’s the first person who made me feel like I was part of a family and not just some extra piece of trash left behind.”

Marshall stared at him, stunned.

“I was a kid, man. And she didn’t treat me like a burden. She let me tag along on your dumb-ass dates, she taught me how to use the washing machine. She parented me more than our own fucking mother ever did.”

His voice cracked.

“I watched her come apart in that house and I didn’t know what the fuck to do. I kept thinking, ‘How do I save the person who always saved me?’ And I thought—I thought maybe if I just kept her breathing long enough, you’d come home in time.”

Marshall felt his throat tighten.

“I didn’t tell you,” Nate said, voice smaller now, “because I didn’t know how. Because I was afraid saying it out loud would make it real. And I couldn’t handle losing her. Not her. Not like that.”

Silence fell over the room like fog—dense, inescapable.

Marshall sat down slowly across from him, eyes still locked on his brother.

“You should’ve called me,” he said again—but there was no venom in it now. Just pain.

Nate nodded, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “I know.”

Marshall swallowed hard. “But I get it.”

That landed like a weight in Nate’s chest.

“I get it,” Marshall repeated. “Because I would’ve done the same thing.”

His voice dropped.

“She’s more than just mine, man. I forget that sometimes. But I get it.”

Nate’s shoulders sagged, finally releasing tension he hadn’t even realized he was holding.

Marshall looked away, throat working like he was fighting something back. “I’m sorry I yelled. I was scared.”

“I know.”

They sat in silence for a while, the kind only brothers can share. Where every unspoken thing is heard anyway.

Finally, Marshall sighed. “You still sleeping on the couch tonight?”

“Unless you’re kicking me out.”

“Nah. But I’ll take first watch.”

Nate looked at him.

Marshall gave a small, tired smile. “Old habits.”

Nate nodded once, lips twitching upward for the first time in days.

They didn’t say anything else.

They didn’t need to.

Because between them stood the same truth:

You had held both their broken pieces once.

And now, it was their turn to hold yours.

---

It had been three days since Marshall came home.

Three days of too-quiet breakfasts and awkward silences and forced smiles that didn’t quite reach anyone’s eyes.

Nate still slept in the guest room.

You still barely left the bedroom.

And the girls—God, the girls were watching everything.

You could see it in Hailie’s long glances, the way she lingered in doorways like she was waiting to overhear something. In Alaina’s soft reassurances, her too-casual questions like, “Do you need help with dinner?” when she never used to ask. And Whitney—she was the sharpest of all. Small but perceptive. Quietly confused.

It was a Saturday morning when the question came.

You were all sitting in the living room, scattered in loose, unspoken formations—Whitney curled beside you on the couch, Alaina thumbing through her phone on the floor, Hailie helping Marshall fold laundry across the coffee table, and Nate in the kitchen nursing his third cup of coffee like it was penance.

The tension felt like old paint—cracked and visible if anyone looked too closely.

But it was Whitney who said it first.

“Why’s Uncle Nate still here?” she asked, head tilted. Her tone was innocent. Curious.

She was always good at asking the questions no one else dared to.

The room froze.

Every muscle in your body stiffened beneath the hoodie you’d barely taken off all week. You stared at the television, watching a cooking show neither of you were really following.

Marshall looked up from a towel he was folding, his expression faltering. “Uh…”

Hailie shot him a glance.

Alaina looked at you.

Nate didn’t even pretend to be casual—he just stared into his coffee mug like he wanted to fall inside it.

Whitney blinked, oblivious to the panic fluttering beneath everyone’s skin. “He used to only stay when Daddy was gone. But now you’re back. So… why’s he still here?”

Silence.

Marshall cleared his throat. “He’s just helping out, bug.”

“With what?”

Another beat of hesitation.

Then Nate muttered, “Just… being around.”

“Okay,” she said, dragging out the word slowly. “But—is Mommy sick?”

You flinched. Your heart stuttered.

Marshall looked at you.

Your mouth opened—but nothing came out.

“Mommy’s just tired,” Hailie said, gently. Too gently.

Whitney narrowed her eyes. “Is it because she was crying when Daddy was in California?”

That silenced the room completely.

Marshall's hands stilled. Alaina’s phone slipped from her fingers. Nate froze in place.

You couldn’t breathe.

Whitney looked around at all of you. “Did she cry because he was gone? Or because she was scared?”

No one answered.

She was only ten. But she knew. Kids always know more than you think.

After a moment, Marshall got up and crossed the room, sitting on the armrest beside you, his hand resting lightly between your shoulders. “Mommy’s going through a hard time right now,” he said softly. “And sometimes hard things are easier to handle when there’s family close by. So Uncle Nate’s here to help us for a while. That’s all.”

Whitney stared at you, like she wanted to ask more. Like she already knew more.

You managed to whisper, “I’m okay.”

She didn’t believe you.

But she didn’t say anything else.

Later, after the girls were upstairs and the house had gone quiet again, you stood in the hallway near the stairwell, arms wrapped around yourself. You didn’t hear Marshall come up behind you until he placed a hand on your waist, anchoring you gently.

“She knows,” you said, not turning around.

“Yeah.”

“I hate that.”

“I know.”

You exhaled slowly. “What if we already broke something in her?”

“You didn’t,” he said, firm but soft. “She’s not broken. She’s just… watching us survive. And maybe that teaches her something, too.”

You didn’t reply.

You didn’t believe him yet.

---

It took two weeks for the noise to come back.

The house was asleep.

You weren’t.

You hadn't slept in what felt like days. Not really. Maybe you'd drifted, maybe you’d pretended. But real sleep—the kind that reached down and held you—hadn’t touched you in weeks.

You walked barefoot through the hallway, careful not to wake anyone. The floors creaked under your weight like they were warning you not to go.

But you went anyway.

The back door slid open with that familiar sound, the one that used to mean summer and laughter and splashing. Now it just felt like a memory you couldn’t crawl back into.

The night air kissed your skin. Cold. Unforgiving.

The pool glowed faintly under the moonlight, a rippling mirror that looked too calm for what it had done. Or what you’d done. Or almost done.

You stepped closer.

You told yourself you just needed air.

Just needed a second.

But your eyes wouldn’t leave the water.

It looked like peace.

Like silence.

Like a way out.

You stood at the edge, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, the chill seeping through your hoodie, your breath fogging faintly in the air.

Your mind was screaming again.

What if he leaves? What if he relapses? What if the girls see you fall apart for real this time? What if this never gets better? What if you’re broken forever? What if they’d all be better off if you just—

You choked on a sob, biting it back into your teeth like it had no right to escape.

You took one step closer.

The edge of the concrete dug into your toes. You could almost feel the weightlessness of letting go, the rush of cold. The instant relief that might follow. Or not.

You don’t have to do this, a voice whispered somewhere faint in your chest.

But it was quiet. And the louder voice—the one that said you’re a burden, you’re unraveling, you’re too much—was screaming.

Your foot shifted.

And then—

“Don’t.”

The voice stopped you cold.

You spun around, startled, nearly slipping, heart hammering.

It was Hailie.

She stood in the doorway barefoot, wrapped in a blanket, her hair a mess of sleep and worry. Her eyes weren’t angry. Just wide. And scared.

She looked so much like Marshall in that moment it broke something in you.

“I—I wasn’t—” you stammered.

She didn’t say anything. Just walked over, slowly. Carefully. Like you were glass.

When she reached you, she took your hand. No force. Just warmth.

“Come back inside, Mom.”

Your breath hitched.

“I don’t know how,” you whispered. “I don’t know how to come back.”

She squeezed your hand tighter.

“Then I’ll stay with you out here until you do.”

And she did.

---

The chill of the night pressed down like a second skin, but you didn’t feel it.

Not really.

Not with Hailie beside you.

She didn’t let go after she pulled you down into the old wooden deck chair, the blanket she’d brought barely big enough to cover you both. Her arms wrapped around your middle like she was afraid you might slip through the cracks of the world and vanish. You held her without thinking, instinctively, like muscle memory. Like breathing.

And she just… stayed there.

She didn’t ask questions.

Didn’t tell you it was okay.

Didn’t try to fix you.

She just held on.

And after a while—after the sobs stopped and your heart stopped racing, after the pool stopped looking like an answer—her grip loosened, her body relaxed, and she fell asleep with her head tucked beneath your chin.

Your fingers moved slowly through her hair, the way you used to when she was little. When monsters still lived under beds and you were her shield from all of them.

Now she was yours.

And that broke you more than anything else ever could.

You didn’t sleep. But you didn’t move, either. Couldn’t.

Because she was warm. And real. And here.

And even though your mind still whispered what if, what if, what if on a loop that never ended, her breathing gave you something to hold onto. Something to stay anchored for. Even just for one more minute.

The sky turned gray behind the trees.

And then light crept into the yard, soft and golden and undeserved.

You didn’t hear the sliding door open, but you heard the gasp—sharp, strangled—followed by fast footsteps across the deck.

“Oh my God—”

Marshall.

You looked up, blinking blearily, eyes raw and aching.

He was already crouching in front of you, hands gentle but frantic, touching your face, your arms, Hailie’s back.

“Jesus, babe, what—what the fuck—why are you—”

“She’s okay,” you rasped, voice hollow. “She found me.”

Marshall stared at you, at Hailie curled against you like she was still ten years old and scared of thunderstorms.

“She wouldn’t let me go,” you added.

Behind him, Nate stood frozen at the edge of the deck, his face pale, eyes wide, like he’d just walked into a funeral.

Again.

You looked at them both. Couldn’t find words. Couldn’t even lie.

Marshall knelt there for a long moment, trying to gather his breathing. Trying not to yell. Trying not to cry.

He looked up at you, eyes shining.

“I thought we were past this,” he whispered.

“So did I.”

He swallowed hard. His voice cracked when he said, “I don’t know how to fix this.”

You leaned your head back against the chair, eyes slipping shut. “Maybe we don’t. Maybe we just… get through one more night.”

He nodded slowly.

Then, gently, he brushed the hair from your forehead and leaned forward to press his lips to it.

You didn’t open your eyes.

Hailie stirred faintly but didn’t wake.

No one said it out loud, but you all felt it:

You were still not okay.

Not yet.

Maybe not for a long time.

But this time, you weren’t alone on the edge.

---

By noon, the pool was already halfway drained.

You heard the whirring first—low, mechanical, relentless. Then the footsteps. The scrape of boots on the deck. Male voices outside. Something shifting, water gurgling like a wound being opened.

From the bedroom window, you watched a man in overalls feed a wide hose into the deep end, water rushing up through the pipe and out into a truck parked on the side of the yard. The blue glow of the water darkened as it lowered, leaving behind slick tiles and echoes.

You didn’t ask.

You already knew.

Marshall stood by the pool, arms crossed, jaw tight, a phone clenched in one hand. His posture was a storm held just beneath the surface. A storm that had nowhere to go.

You opened the sliding door slowly, stepping out barefoot. The deck boards were warm under your feet now, touched by the rising sun.

He didn’t turn around.

“How long have they been here?” you asked, voice hoarse from the night before.

“Hour and a half,” he said. “They’ll be done by four.”

You looked past him to the water, still draining, still shifting.

He finally turned, eyes shadowed, voice low. “I’m not leaving that thing full another goddamn day.”

You swallowed hard. “It’s not the pool, Marsh.”

“I know,” he said. “But it doesn’t get to stay. Not after that.”

He looked at you then, and something in his face made your throat tighten. Not just anger. Not just fear. But helplessness. The kind that lives in a man who’s already watched someone flatline once.

“I can’t watch you go under,” he said. “Not again. Not even in my fucking dreams.”

You stepped closer.

“I wasn’t trying to die.”

He let out a rough breath. “Then tell your face that. Tell your fucking eyes.”

You blinked hard, fighting the sting.

“I didn’t know how else to make it stop,” you whispered. “I just wanted quiet for five minutes. Five.”

He nodded, swallowed, nodded again.

The water behind him kept draining.

“I’m not mad at you,” he said. “I’m mad at the part of me that missed it. That left you here thinking you had to hold all of it alone.”

You didn’t reply.

There was nothing to say that could undo it.

He closed the distance between you and pulled you into his chest. His arms wrapped around you with that same urgency as the night he found out. Like he still didn’t trust you wouldn’t slip away if he blinked too long.

You let yourself be held.

The draining continued.

Later, Hailie asked if something happened to the pool.

Marshall just said, “Yeah. It stopped feeling safe.”

And she didn’t question it.

---

After the pool was drained you tried harder. Determined to fight alongside Marshall and your family. You were trying to not just act better but feel better.

It was supposed to be a good day.

The first one in a while.

The sun was out, a soft spring breeze threading through the trees, and for once, your body didn’t feel like it was trying to collapse in on itself. Nate had suggested the walk—just around the neighborhood, just to get some air—and somehow, you’d said yes.

Hailie and Alaina walked ahead, earbuds shared between them, bickering quietly over a playlist.

You stayed behind with Whitney, who’d brought her favorite stuffed unicorn along for the ride, its sparkly horn bobbing in rhythm with each of her skips. Nate walked beside you, hands tucked into his hoodie, glancing over every few steps like he still didn’t trust you not to disappear.

It was peaceful.

Until it wasn’t.

It happened in a blink.

The unicorn slipped from Whitney’s hands, bounced once on the curb, then tumbled into the street.

“Oh no—Starbeam!” Whitney squeaked and darted forward before you could stop her.

Nate lunged instantly, calling her name, grabbing her arm just in time to yank her back to the sidewalk—but the toy was still out there.

“I’ll get it,” he said, already stepping toward the road.

Time slowed.

You didn’t hear the car at first—just a dull hum, distant. But then it turned the corner too fast. Too fucking fast. And Nate didn’t see it coming.

You did.

Your throat ripped open before you even registered the scream.

“NO—!”

Your body moved on instinct.

You didn’t think.

Didn’t weigh the consequences.

Didn’t hesitate.

One second you were on the curb, the next you were shoving Nate with both hands, hard, out of the car’s path.

Then—

Impact.

Sound exploded. Bone met steel. The world spun.

You didn’t feel pain at first. Just a jolt. A cracking thud. Your body flung sideways, weightless for a second, then slammed into the asphalt like a dropped puppet.

Everything went quiet.

You tasted blood.

You couldn’t breathe.

You stared up at the sky, blue and impossibly bright, and the only thing you could think was, At least Nate's okay.

“MOM!”

“Oh my God—”

“CALL AN AMBULANCE!”

“Don’t move her! Don’t let her close her eyes!”

“Why is there blood—”

The voices blurred together.

Whitney was screaming.

Alaina was crying.

Nate was already at your side, hands shaking, face white as paper, voice cracking as he begged you to stay awake.

You blinked up at him, vision swimming.

“I’m okay,” you tried to say. But nothing came out.

Just more blood.

And then—blackness.

---

[racingmiku2018]

work was such a shitshow in the morning that it trailed into the afternoon and evening and now im just hit with this sinking dread of having to go and do it all again tomorrow

[madamechrissy]

Baby You're a Star

Art in the banner by Kerravi on x!

Pairings- Pornstar Satoru x shy f!reader

Summary- You meet Satoru Gojo at a wild Hollywood party, insanely out of place, waiting for your friend to show up. The two of you hit it off, spending time together, and share a kiss, but you're a good girl, and you just don't do this, but he is the top pornstar there is, and the top .01 % on OnlyFans. Once you find out, you know there's probably no match, as Satoru doesn't date, and you don't sleep around, but after meeting, you keep in touch- and soon Satoru can't get hard without thinking of you, and you get over curious, and join a livestream of the boy you like. Just how will that go for you both!? WC this chap- 11.5k (longestt)

Warnings- WOW this chap has it all, heed the warnings - filming porn masturbation ( m) oral (m and f receiving) spit kink HIGH KEY, mentions of cum, multiple rounds, switching positions, size kink, swallowing (M and F) explicit sex, feral Gojo, squirting, mating press, tummy bulges, lots of fucking goddamn- Gojo is whipped mutual pining, obsessive Gojo. Angsty asf in places, lots of jealousy

A/N- Taglist closed- This was so smut filled I took MULTIPLE breaks aha, maybe my most smut filled one ever? don't read in public actually - please comment/rb if you enjoy <3

<<<Chapter Two - Masterlist- Playlist- Chapter Four>>>

Chapter Three

You can’t escape the desire you have, even in your dreams.

Waking up cumming was not just new, it was ridiculous, and you didn’t even know that happened until this morning. Waking up with your cunt throbbing around nothing, and gushing arousal, as your dream was filled with Satoru kissing you, fucking into you with that thick, huge cock, hitting spots deep inside that felt real even in your dreams.

That’s it, sweetheart, cum all around my cock, hmm? Lemme feel her- there you go, baby.

That had done too much to your sleeping brain apparently, because you couldn’t stop cumming either, crying out and whining when you’d touched your cunt and felt the slick coating everything. After shaking violently from it, you’d peeked and seen a good morning text from him, all while you had to go get cleaned up, trying to compose yourself before you texted back.

Jenna calls now, shaking you out of your reverie, and the two of you plan lunch the next day. “You’re having dinner with him?”

“Yeah, but as a… friend?”

“Oh baby, you’re too cute.” You sigh, leaning back as you stir up some dough for cookies you were baking later, the sunlight filtering in through the little kitchen window you have open wide. You peer out into the sky, thinking it’s not as pretty as Satoru’s eyes.

“I do really feel things, but Jenna I can’t not be near him, if it’s as a friend, then it’s as a friend.” Jenna sighs louder than you did. “Are we having a sighing contest?”

“I’ll win any loud moan contest, but your sighs are cuter.”

“Jenna!”

You both laugh then, and a beep sounds on your phones. “Ah, looks like he’s going to stream. Gonna go watch your friend?”

“You’re an instigator. Maybe.” She giggles again, as you finish preheating the oven, scooping the dough onto the parchment paper.

“Be careful, you’re a grown woman, and things change, but don’t forget yourself, okay?” You pause then, emotions catching in your throat at her words. “I’m not trying to be the ‘mom’ I swear.”

“I know, Jenna. I love you, see you soon?” You end the call after she says goodbye, popping the cookies in the oven and turning them on. You set up your laptop, deciding to do some work for the weekend on a project your friend hired you for, but the temptation of seeing Satoru keeps nagging at your mind.

The man certainly has a pretty cock, but you think it’s the way he looks at the camera that fucks you up, it’s probably why he’s so good at it, his job. And he clearly enjoyed it, even though you know he was having a little difficulty with the last shoot, perhaps he prefers solo lately? To think you had anything to do with that was foolish, so you wouldn’t allow the thought.

The timer beeps, you stand up and stretch, turning off the timer and oven then, grabbing a bright red oven mitt and pulling out the sheet pan, smelling delectable, the steam hot and rising, scent filling your nostrils. You loved to bake, especially when you were stressed, and you suppose you were, having feelings for a man currently stroking his cock for the camera was conflicting at best.

You keep trying to tell yourself that it’s not feelings, that you’re inexperienced and confused, but you know you’re lying to yourself. You eye that silver laptop again, remembering the last time, the image of him sucking his own cum off his fingers is burned deep, a core memory at this fucking point. You shake it off, then sigh, giving into temptation.

You’d just tip him a hundred again to be supportive, you tip Jenna all the time, it’s fine, it’s something a friend can do.

Right?

You log in to the onlyfans platform, the black and blue OF making you just a bit nervous, clicking on the stream then, taking several breaths as you click on it. Fully prepared to be soaking wet, the sight that greets you is not Satoru stroking his cock, it’s another woman, her thighs spread, while Satoru runs circles on her clit. She’s propped on his lap, her head against his bare collarbones, moaning.

Your heart shatters then, and it shouldn’t, no you’re so stupid!

You are Satoru’s friend, and it was your choice to check his stream, to tip and be supportive but ultimately you know what you potentially signed up for. You saw him with Jenna, and for whatever reason that had not bothered you- maybe because it was before he touched you, looked at you like that.

The girl in front of him has two of his fingers shoved deep as he has her feet propped up on his thighs while you blink away stupid tears that shouldn’t exist, there’s no anger but there’s so much jealousy you shock yourself. You’re a girl’s girl, you’re supportive, what is this!? You’d like to rip her right off his lap, and you hate yourself for it right now.

You shake it off, looking away as the cookies fill your home with the sweet scent of sugar and chocolate. It should be a cheery morning, but you can’t even focus on anything but the conflict in your heart. You stare back again, hearing Satoru’s soft, husky voice, watching all the comments in the chat while he grips one of her breasts in his big hand.

Her head falls forward, and the way you vividly imagine it being you instead has you heating up, in more ways than excitement, embarrassment - you’d never be that girl for him, you wish you could be that way. But Satoru and you together felt too special, especially to share, how could you fall when this was your idea!?

You can’t be upset.

You take a breath, shutting your eyes and looking away as his voice resonates through the laptop’s speakers, echoicing in the quiet. If you were crazy enough you’d say it sounded different than with you, that he let go more, that you were even wetter when he touched you, but you’re starting to think you’re delusional.

“So, we wanna hit this spot right here, for any men watching, you’re gonna curl up here, that spot feels good, doesn’t it honey?” Your jaw sets, swiping tears from under your glasses now.

“Ah, y-yes Gojo!” Her moan echoes too much, he pauses then, the squelching of her cunt stops, it’s all quiet as he just stares at the camera like he’s staring at you, his lips parted, eyes widening just a bit, but there’s no way.

You’ve lost it.

You tip him the hundred as you’d intended to, quickly shutting your laptop and damn near hyperventilating. What’s wrong with you!? His job is to fuck women, so you saw him touching one, what do you expect? The man had a gang bang scene just yesterday, and dinner with you tonight. You have to shove it all down then, you have to remember what he does.

It didn’t mean it wasn’t special though, for you.

Did he do things off camera with-

Stop it!

The phone rings a few minutes later and you just stare at it, lost in your own head, wishing you could compartmentalize it so much better, that you could separate the two. You were so stupid for engaging and knowing, but at the same time, to not have Satoru seems like something you can’t compute, even if it is just as a friend, even if you can’t be sexual.

Maybe you read it all wrong, that night.

Satoru calls again, shaking out his hand as his co star is now fucking herself quite expertly on a dildo, since Satoru can’t get hard for anything - it’s worse today than yesterday - he decided to turn it into a guided masturbation video. At least his fucking fingers still work, despite jerking off to you so much his cock is raw, remembering your lips surrounding it.

Even fingering her he’s picturing your pussy, fuck he wants to just bury his face in it again, he knows the two of you are ‘friends’ or whatever the fuck this was, but it’s exceedingly difficult when it’s affecting him like this. He keeps wondering if you all sleep together, will it make it worse or better? Was he all in his head, as if you would go for someone like him if he did date.

What was he thinking lately?

He saw your name in the stream and his stomach had dropped - and why, you’re just a friend, it was fine if you wanted to see a bit of a stream and tip, he knows it is to be supportive. You’re supportive and sweet, so sweet, god your taste and scent still haunt him, he’s been dying to see you tonight, in any capacity, but when he saw the name he felt awful.

He only wants to fuck you, touch you, but he has a career and commitments, to get her to agree to this instead of fucking was already difficult and he was slowly losing it as his cock kept refusing to work. Even if he could get it up, he didn’t like the idea of fucking someone else at all, after the debacle of a gang bang yesterday. But even touching someone was doing nothing for him.

Now he saw you leave so quickly, and decided to gently smack his co star’s ass, smiling as he bent her over, murmuring he needs a break. She eagerly took over the spotlight, the opportunity was a huge one for her anyway as a smaller star. Satoru keeps staring at your picture, sighing as he notices the little reflections in your glasses, touching the screen softly.

You saw him touching someone, did you care, did it bother you-

Why is he thinking like this!?

He calls again, and you answer, much to his relief, as his hands let go of the bathroom counter he’d gripped too tightly. “Hey Satoru, sorry I popped in, I thought it was um… you…”

“Jerking off?” He finishes the sentence, leaning back against his wall and shutting his eyes.

“Yeah, I didn’t know you did um… shoots at home. You should get back to it, why are you calling me, silly? Looks like um… you were, ah… doing… good.” You’re breaking out every voice, cursing yourself quietly, why can’t you just speak? You’re shoving it all down, trying not to cry - there’s no reason to!

“Ah, yeah I thought I’d try to teach people how to make women cum, they fail often you know.” He tries to make it light, as his stomach clenches, a sick feeling when he hears your forced laugh.

“That’s very true. Someone should give you a Nobel prize for this work.” He snorts then, as the laughter becomes a little more genuine. “No you’re amazing at that. Why not show them how?”

“You thought I was amazing, hmm?” His tone changes, cock throbbing when he just hears your sigh, picturing you vividly in his mind, while the sounds of his co-star echo, moans and squelching wetness that does nothing for him.

Didn’t he used to enjoy all of this?

“You know I thought that.” Your heart pounds, you have to remember, Satoru is amazing and just because you’re hurt, you can’t be mad or upset at him. He’s not yours in any way, even if you’re starting to wish he was. “Isn’t your co-star waiting?”

“She’s occupying herself fine. It’s not… sex…” Because I can’t get hard unless it’s you. “It’s just a tutorial.”

“Oh,” your relief shouldn’t exist, you shouldn’t care, but to hear that does make you slump over just a bit, before taking a breath. “Do you want to do dinner another day, it’s already four-”

“No, no!” Satoru panics then, since when does smooth pornstar Satoru freak the fuck out and act desperate? “I mean, no. I want to see you tonight. I have time to shower and get there.”

He wants to wash any of this girl off, frantically actually, he wants you all over him, even if it’s just him pleasing you more. But moreso, even if you just wanted to have dinner and that was it, he’d be happy, though the thought of fucking you with his fingers while you eat dessert is insanely tempting, making his tip drool precum quite annoyingly as he glares in the mirror.

“Okay good, I was looking forward to it.” Your whisper is soft and genuine, as he sees the red on his cheeks, the black pupils, just thinking of you shifts his entire face.

Fuck.

“I’ll start getting ready, I think it’s time you see I can get dressed up.” You tease softly, swiping stupid tears and trying to plaster a bright smile on your face as you stare in your mirror. Your eyes are puffy, the color drained from your face, lips trembling - just seeing that has affected your entire face, taking off your glasses so you don’t even have to look at yourself for a moment.

“I bet you’re gonna kill me, you look so pretty any time I see you,” his voice is hoarse, as he spills the vulnerable truth, and the two of you shut your eyes, leaning against your bathroom counters. “But I’m excited to see you dolled up.”

“Are you, Satoru?” You try to hide the insecurities haunting you, hearing his sexy, heavy sigh on the other line.

“Very excited. I’ll see you soon, sweets.”

The two of you hang up and you sigh, eyeing the clock now - you have about two hours to get ready, and you’re so nervous your palms are sweaty and numb. It may just be two ‘friends’ having dinner, but you want to shove that image back you just saw, and focus, and try to look beautiful tonight.

Satoru’s own hands are numb, as he curses, slamming a hand on his forehead, unable to think of anything but you, barely able to pull himself together. When he walks out, Suguru is there, nibbling in the kitchen, raising a brow at him. “You good, Satoru?”

“Fine, I… you wanna finish that for me?” He gestures to the room, while Suguru sips down water. “I think I have a kind of date or something.”

“A date!? Huh?” Satoru just looks away, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I don’t think it’s a date, it’s friends or something? Maybe... I don’t know. Is dinner a date if it's not with a costar?” Suguru rolls his violet eyes, sighing as he washes his hands now, patting them dry with a paper towel.

“You’re acting weird as fuck lately, that cute little good girl got you simping?” Satoru scoffs, rolling his blue eyes now.

“Suguru, just do me a solid.” Satoru pouts, earning Suguru’s scoff.

“Fine, fine, but you owe me one.” Suguru and Satoru enter the room, as Satoru eases the transition, the notes in the chat are going insane, he can’t help but exhale in relief, before pausing at the thought.

Was there some way to save his malfunctioning dick?

*****

Satoru whistles when he meets you at the restaurant that evening, running just a little late, you're sitting there nibbling on your thumb, peering at the menu when he arrives. Your eyes light up behind a different pair of glasses, these have cute red rims, matching the red dress you're wearing that's making him ache.

He hasn't seen you in something like this, not that you weren't always pretty, but when you stand up and he sees how it fits your body it almost takes him everything to hold back. Vividly picturing bending you right over that table and fucking you in front of the entire restaurant, gripping the red shimmery fabric that drapes across every line and curve of that body.

He can't form a word, notoriously known for never shutting up, but he can't think of anything to say, when you shyly look down, hands fidgeting in front of your lap, and he’s standing there sputtering. It’s awkward even, until the waitress comes up and smiles over at Satoru, gesturing to a seat, saying - ‘This must be the friend you were waiting for!’

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting, you look beautiful.” He says finally, pressing a kiss to your cheek, feeling it heat up against his lips. You shake your head with a sweet turn of your lips, kissing his cheek in turn.

“You’re fine, Satoru, I still haven’t learned LA time.” He chuckles at that just a bit, sitting across from you now, before deciding to sit next to you instead, shoulders brushing together.

“This feels more comfy? It feels all formal the other way.”

“Does it feel too… date like?” He falters then, because that was not it, but the doubt has crept in on your face, when the waitress asks you all for your order, and he has to blink back the confusion. “What do you suggest?”

“Want me to order for you?” You nod shyly, god the submissive nature of you makes him ache in way too many ways, knowing how perfect of a girl you’d be for him in every aspect. “We’ll have this,” he says, pointing to the menu now. “And bring two glasses of champagne please.”

“Are we celebrating?” You tease, handing the waitress the menu, Satoru chuckles a bit, shaking his head while you take in how handsome he looks, brushing your fingers against his suit jacket. “You look so good, Satoru.”

“Thank you, sweets.” He holds your hand then, fuck it feels too good, pressing it against the dark red suit jacket that truly only he could pull off, black button down shirt left open, showing enough of his chest to make anyone die over. Your eyes look at it now, a few of the chains he wears resting along the strong muscles, settling between his collarbones. “You’re making me look bad, wearing in that dress.”’

“No way!”

“Absolutely, you are. You’re so pretty, fuck…” He’s brushing back a tendril, as you eye him, that look that drives him insane, the look that’s ruined him since he met you. He tries to smirk, to act calm, teasing, “I look that good?”

“Yes, shit. Sorry.” He laughs softly, shaking his head when you pull your hand back gently.

“We match, great minds you know.”

“Indeed, we clearly coordinated telepathically!” He laughs then, and it's just like that first night, when you and him just hit it the fuck off. It’s comfortable, it’s fun - so fun - that people smile at the two of you, as you laugh like friends for years. It’s how it feels, like you’ve known him, a way you can���t explain.

But you wished it was just the friendliness, not the heat in your tummy when he wipes a droplet of clear, bubbly champagne from his plump lips, if every time his thigh brushed yours you didn’t melt. Someone comes up then, a really pretty girl, and you feel Satoru stiffen a bit, making you tense, sipping on the tart champagne and averting your eyes a bit.

“Gojo, it's been what, a year?!” He smiles with ease, standing and kissing her cheek, hugging her tightly.

“It has been, shit, how you been?” It’s all very Hollywood, their exchange, you feel you’ll never figure it out, the two years you’ve been here after relocating and you still couldn’t get being kissy on everyone.

It makes you think of him earlier, his fingers in that-

Stop that!

He’s saying your name you errantly realize, you plaster on a smile as she looks at you curiously, eyeing you up and down. “Co-star?”

“No, no, she’s my friend. She’s a good girl.” He winks down at you, and she giggles then, holding her hand out.

“It’s awesome to meet you!”

“You too. Are you um…”

“A former co-star, yeah. Satoru is the best in the industry.” Ah, so she fucked him, too. You want to be petty and scowl and you hate yourself for it more.

You never, ever are like this.

You never have been.

She’s touching his shoulder and making you sick, when your eyes catch a familiar face, a man standing with a group of other men, smiling over at you, he’s one of your co-workers that is always working. You wave at him while Satoru finishes his conversation, and he adjusts his tan jacket, touching the arm of one of the men, letting them go as he walks to you.

You tense just a bit, while the girl finally leaves, and Satoru’s sitting next to you once more, as his phone rings. He turns it off, jaw tensing when a blond man takes your hand and bends down at the waist, like some old school gentleman, pressing a kiss to the back of your delicate wrist, the pretty bracelet slides down your arm as he does it, and he watches your blush.

The fuck.

He was trying his best to get that girl to go on, so he could get back to talking to you, but now some random guy has your attention, and Satoru doesn’t like it, not one fucking bit. “Nanami, this is Satoru.”

“Nanami, huh?” He leans back, flipping off his phone again, you look at him curiously.

“Need to grab that?” You ask, and he shakes his head, swiping it off once more, ignoring his manager while this Nanami guy eyes you behind green glasses.

“You look stunning, is that alright to say?” You giggle again, Satoru glares at you, how dare you giggle at him!?

He told you that you looked beautiful. Did you giggle?

He wants to punch this smirking man in the face.

What’s wrong with him!?

“Thank you, Nanami, I guess you don’t see me too dressed up at work, huh? You always dress so well.”

“Oh stop, you’re flattering me. And this is your…” He trails off, looking at Gojo, who has to wipe the glare off his face for a moment.

Say it, Satoru.

More than a friend.

You look at him then, as if you’re waiting for him to say that, to say something, while Nanami’s lips quirk up just a bit, making Satoru want to smack him again. He takes a breath, smiling then instead of glaring, but his hand is on the small of your back. “We’ve become close friends, very quickly.”

“Oh? I’ve known her for a long time,” Nanami says, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away. You look at Satoru, whose phone starts ringing again, and he curses, rolling his blue eyes. “Need to take that?”

“It’s my manager, they have horrible timing. I’ll be right back.” He murmurs, you smile understandingly, while his manager trips on him about earlier.

He knows his dick doesn’t work, and now he knows he hates touching anyone, but he doesn’t know how to explain it to anyone when he has no fucking clue why this is happening. He’s obsessed with a sweet, shy little thing that is currently getting hit on by a dude buffer than him.

Maybe he’d be good for you.

Satoru is too petty to admit it though, glaring instead while his manager goes on and on. “Listen, I get it, you need content.”

“We need you with women, a lot of your viewers are men, they’re not gonna tune in to watch you solo. Find someone that works for you, I don’t care who at this point, but we’re just not gonna make profit if you keep turning down roles. Or, I heard, you shoved a girl off on Geto.”

“I didn’t… shove her off, I just…” Satoru frowns again, the blond man is sitting next to you in the other seat, your eyes are on Satoru however they turn away when he catches your gaze.

He just wants to fuck you right in front of that fucking man now. God, if you would be interested in starring in something, you’d make bank, it’s not just his obsession, your pussy is the prettiest one he’s seen. Your tits, your body, they’re all so sexy, and your pretty face with those glasses? You’d kill any sexy nerd shoot there was.

“Satoru!”

Shit.

He can’t get the vision of you in some slutty ass librarian outfit from running through his head.

“Yeah, I got it. I’ll try to get something going, I mean I was gonna do a solo tonight anyway.”

“That’s fine, but remember you’re a lot more than just Onlyfans. You’re a star, Satoru, that comes with a certain level of appearances. So whatever is going on, you gotta get it together, or we’re both not making shit.” He sighs, leaning back against the wall now, eyes going back to you, giggling at something he’s said.

He’s too close to you.

Why does he mind so much?

“I’ll get a shoot done.” The words feel horrible, the thought of fucking anyone else just seems like an impossibility, and he doesn’t know how to compute it in his mind.

What did you do?

“Alright, I expect some video with a woman - not with Suguru. Though…”

“I’m not fucking Suguru.” He chuckles as people look at him a bit, running a hand through his white locks. “He is pretty but not my type.”

“He’s gonna be your type if you turn down every other actress.”

“Ugh.”

“Mmhmm, talk to you later.” He hangs up, frowning at his phone, trying to gather himself before he does something so stupid, jealousy filling him and for what?

You’re talking. You’re not his. He had his fingers buried in a girl this morning, why does he care if you did anything? He knows you’re not that girl, though, but you choose to be with him. It makes him feel far, far more special than he’d admit, the fact that you want him, that you trust him. Was he mistaking the look in your eyes, was it just desire there?

“If you are single, would you mind a date sometime? I haven’t had so much fun talking in a long time.” Nanami says softly, making you look down shyly, lashes casting shadows on your cheeks from the soft lights hanging above you in the dimly lit, pretty restaurant. “Am I too bold?”

“No, no. I just haven’t been on a date in forever.” Satoru feels like he’s been punched in the chest as he hears, nearing the table and acting like he didn’t wanna yank you to him and kiss you then and there.

But he chose to tell him you’re friends, that’s what you were, a friend he wants to fuck all night in every position imaginable. Then lick his own cum out of your cunt, abused from his cock, and fuck you all morning. God he can’t stop thinking about them all, have you dragged on his face, his hands on your waist, let you ride his mouth till he couldn’t breathe.

Real fucking friendly.

Satoru’s hands grip and release while he hears your answer, “I will think about it, Mr. Nanami, it may be fun.”

That’s almost a yes.

Fuck.

“Think about what?” He asks with a smile, leaned back in the booth, a hand brushing your bare thigh under the table, where your dress had slid up from you sitting, he feels it tense while he drags his fingertips across it, eyeing you then.

Was Satoru trying to confuse you more? You look at him again, some toxic part of you that you don’t recognize wants him to claim you, what the fuck was that!? You have never been that way, you’ve never been a lot of things until you met this blue-eyed man, however, and even with a handsome Nanami flirting, you can’t get Satoru’s moans out of your mind.

Snap out of it!

“A date with your lovely friend. You two are just friends?” He looks between the two of you now, and Satoru opens his mouth, but what can he say?

It’s what you ‘are’.

Would he be worthy of dating you if he wanted to, when his job was fucking other women? You didn’t deserve that, you deserved to be the only one, fuck you literally had become his one singular, consuming thought. He smiles good naturedly, eyeing you now, watching you bite your lower lip, teeth digging into the plush of it, while your thighs tremble just a bit.

“We just met at a party a few weeks ago, but we are really close. Quickly.” He murmurs.

“Can’t see you partying.” Nanami’s hand comes to touch your other thigh, and for a girl who hasn’t had any in forever, the sensation of two big hands on your thighs is addling your mind. “No offense, darling you seem a little straight laced…” his words are trailed off with his hand squeezing gently.

Satoru scowls at him.

Is he touching you!?

Do you like it?

“I don’t party, it’s true.” You smile now, a hand over his, thumbs brushing his knuckles, while Satoru’s squeezing so hard you wince before he realizes it, letting go of his grip, but the hand staying on your knee. “I think we could go on a date sometime, as long as it doesn’t make work weird.”

“Not at all, all right I’ll leave you two to hang out then,” he stands, holding out a hand for Satoru, he squeezes the shit out of Nanami’s hand with a forced smile, only for Nanami to squeeze tighter. And fuck he’s strong. Then, he takes your hand, murmuring a - “I’ll see you at work, then,” and kissing the back of your hand. “Darling.”

Darling.

Satoru will show him darling.

You giggle, only pissing him off more, nodding shyly, fuck you’re cute even when you’ve made him furious. He’s shared women so many times he can’t count, even girls he got closer to, regular girls that you could almost say he ‘dated’ he’d still regularly bang out with his friends. He’s not possessive in general, he’s open minded and a free spirit.

Or he was!?

“Sounds good, Mr. Nanami.” He hates how you say his name, when the man in the khaki suit and dumbass cheetah tie leaves, finally. “He’s so sweet.”

“Yeah, so sweet.” You look at him then, narrowing your eyes curiously.

“You don’t like him?”

“I don’t know him. Seems boring, pretentious.” You blink in confusion, eyeing the retreating figure walking out, he even waves at you, which you return.

“He doesn’t seem like either to me. Satoru, you said we are just friends, are you worried that we won’t… do all that we do if I date someone?” Your words drop to a quiet murmur, and he sighs.

“Yes I would be very upset if I didn’t get to taste you again, why wouldn’t I be? It’d be a fuckin’ tragedy, sweetheart.” His words are too husky, when he leans against you, turning just so, his fingers slipping up your inner thigh, a side of sweet, nice Satoru you hadn’t seen yet, you almost think he looks…

He can’t be jealous.

Right?

You're delusional.

“I don’t just sleep around, so if we went on a date I wouldn’t do that. But, if I hit it off, and got serious, I wouldn’t continue our… lessons. I can only be with one person at one time.” He tenses then, is he going to lose you before he even gets you? “I don’t care if you do the same, I know it’s your job, but I couldn’t.”

“I’m not fucking anyone right now. My manager is bitching at me about it.” You tilt your head curiously, the chandelier earrings dancing in glittering prisms along your neck as you study him. “I’m having issues on set.”

“Is everything okay?” You ask, concern in your voice now, as he shakes his head. “Satoru, what's wrong?”

“I’m not in a good headspace it seems, the gang bang I failed, and I pushed the girl this morning on Suguru. So if I don’t give my manager something, they’re gonna be pissed. And no money for us if I can’t show up.”

“What’s wrong though, you seemed fine with Jenna in what I watched? Is this a new problem?” God you’re clueless to your effects, aren’t you? You touch his thigh too, instantly making his cock hard, looking down and getting flustered, he feels your heat, just making him harder. “You seem to work fine to me. Are the cameras getting too stressful?”

“I don’t know, but it really is a problem. Do you think… you could help your very handsome, amazing friend out?” You look up at him, curious.

“Help how?”

“Your good video skills, film a hot jerk off stream, good angles? Maybe that will get enough money he’ll chill some until I get over this.” You look away, the images of Satoru stroking his cock are burned in your brain. “Too much?”

“No, no. I can help, I feel I am taking up your time-”

“You’re not.” He cups your face then, turning it to him. “You’re never taking up my time, I enjoy being here. Okay?” You exhale, fuck had you been worried about that!?

How could you not know how badly he craves your presence?

“I feel bad that you’re going through this, is it the lesson?”

“The lesson did bring your taste into my mouth, and maybe no one tastes as sweet, it’s true,” his thumb brushes across your jaw line, smiling at how embarrassed you get then. “I think your taste would help me out.”

“Then, I’ll film you, but I can’t guarantee the quality.”

“It’ll be impeccable.” He raises two fingers, making your mind go to places it shouldn’t, you know another ‘lesson’ or session, or any time at all with Satoru was dangerous.

You’re teetering on the edge of feelings constantly, but you can do this, right, separate the two? He seems so good at it, at being your friend and then doing more, and you almost failed completely. You almost couldn’t say yes to Nanami because you are currently so delusional you think this star is so interested in you for more.

You have to accept him for who he is, no matter what, this was your choice to join his life at all. You take a breath now, trying to flip that switch off, the one that can’t stop thinking how much you’d love to kiss him, every minute of every day. The side that’s upset his fingers were inside someone, you have to throw her aside, and enjoy what’s here while it’s here.

He makes you question so much constantly, like every minute spent under that cerulean gaze brings out a side of you that you never knew of, some inner sexual side that only he can ignite. It’s so beautiful and special, his breath against your lips, you want to press them to yours, but so unsure, was he not about to be affectionate in public with you?

Was this just left for home?

He changes your thoughts when he kisses your forehead, far too sweet, then your cheeks, hot to the touch, down to your nose, making you giggle, relax. “You never ever waste any time.”

“I needed that.” You exhale, kissing his lips quickly as he smiles against your lips, and you pull back quickly. “I’d love to help you out.”

“I’ll make it worth your while, pretty.” His thumb brushes the slick on your upper thigh, right by your panties, watching your lashes flutter shut, as you take a shaky breath. “Come back to my place?”

“For the night or…”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure-”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Satoru’s paying the bill, signing a signature and leaving a hefty tip, then, holding out a hand for you.

“Did you drive here?” You shake your head, and he smiles, snatching up his phone now. “Perfect, I’ll have my driver take us over.”

*****

The second time coming to Satoru’s home was a little different, you were more comfortable, slipping off your heels now, he bends down to help you again, kissing your knees as he does, hands slipping up your thighs. Your hand brushes a lock of his white hair back, the unreal way you feel this comfortable, this drawn to him, makes your heart ache.

You’re so scared you’ll get hurt more, but you can’t stop yourself from being near him, from him looking at you like you’re the only fucking girl there is, are you so delusional?

Just enjoy it.

You close your eyes, sighing as he stands, kissing your lips again, easing your hand bag off your shoulder, brushing his thumbs across the mark it’s left on your shoulder. “Want another drink?”

“Yes please, if I’m going to be a porn director.” He laughs softly, shaking his head and taking off his suit jacket, laying it across the back of a chair when he pulls out the same bottle you’d sipped last time.

“You liked this one, hmm?” You nod, surprised he’d remember, taking the sweet liquid in the crystal glass, fingers brushing now. “Don’t get drunk though, I can’t have a shaky ass camera.”

“So demanding already, you really gonna make it worth my while you say?” You’re trying to tease back, like you can breathe or function in his presence, he just sighs, brushing back your hair behind your ear.

“That and more, sweetheart. We have hardly started doing things together, there is so much I can think of,” his hands slip lower, down the side of your neck, watching the goosebumps raise as he does, sighing at how perfect you look in his kitchen. “So many positions.”

“How many are there!?” He laughs now, at your embarrassed little look, pressing a boop to your nose.

“You’re endlessly adorable. Corruptible.”

“Oh!” He’s taking his own glass now, guiding you by your hand.

“Suguru’s out for the night, so we won’t get interrupted.” He’s leading you to his room, yanking off that black top, pausing as he sets up the ring light and grabs the camera, handing it to you, fingers brushing against each other. “You ready?”

“Ready,” your squeak of an answer makes him pause, taking your free hand, putting it on his bare chest as your heart hammers, trailing the hand lower to his belt and swallowing. “Need help?”

“Yes, I do.”

He needs you.

He’s desperate for you, fuck.

You’ve helped him undress, on your knees on the soft, plush carpet, when you start the stream, and he starts stroking that long, thick length right in front of you, he keeps looking at you, even when you gesture to the camera. He’s moaning, spitting on his tip, making it slicker for his big hand which still can’t come close to covering it, twisting and moving it all for you.

For his fans.

It’s hard to remember them when your cunt throbs, when you’re so overheated you can hardly stand it, and Satoru’s talking, low and hoarse. “Gonna cum so much, fuck…”

When he’s cumming you damn near do just looking, thighs pressing together for that friction, mouth fucking dry when your shaky legs nearly give out, while you come from a lower angle, reading the comments of his spurting cum, shooting up against his silvery happy trail, sticking all over, making you ache to drink it up.

“Fuck, I’ve made a mess, need someone to clean me all up.” Satoru whispers, while you barely are able to hold up the camera any longer, the livestream is avid with questions, namely - who is filming Satoru Gojo? And offers from many viewers to lick every bit of him up.

Satoru should stare at the camera, but he’s looking up into your eyes instead, stroking his cum soaked length slowly, just pumping more cum out of his tip, so much it’s ridiculous, dripped down to his balls and inner thighs. You swallow nervously, tummy clenched with desire, knowing you needed to stay quiet for the stream of curious viewers.

Satoru murmurs cut then, and  you do just that, shutting off the feed, and setting down the phone with a shaky hand, clearing your throat. “They loved it I think.”

“C’mere.” He crooks two fingers, and you eagerly obey, walking up to him now, tempting him to no end with the way your eyes drink him in. “On your knees, sweetheart.”

You obey again, eagerly in fact, looking up at him under lowered lashes as his clean hand slips up the side of your pretty neck, then around to the nape of it, entangling in your locks. Your soft whine and shift of your hips are all he needs to know you’re enjoying it, your hands obediently on your thighs, as if waiting for his every order, so sexy he feels his cock twitch back to life.

“Do you want to clean me up?” He asks softly, but the command in his tone is there, you nod and he exhales, tugging you towards him then. “Then do a really good job, sweets. Lick every bit clean like a good girl, and I’ll reward you.”

“I’ll do a good job.” Your whisper wrecks him, as he guides your head down, and you suck him, still hard, into your hot, eager mouth. Your soft whine vibrates around him, his head falling back as your mouth moves.

He can’t help but think of earlier.

A date, you were gonna go on a date, and he hates the idea, no, he fucking detests the idea in fact, the rage alone making him fuck your throat deeper, harder, feeling you gag and choke on him instead of anyone else. He shouldn’t feel possessive over his friend, a friend who’s sucking his cum, who’s swallowing him up, all he can think is his, his, his.

But you weren’t his.

How could you ever be?

Satoru’s never felt anything better than your throat, except he’s a million percent sure your cunt is better, he knows it would suck him up so greedy. When tears fall from your pretty eyes, it’s hotter than any blow job he’s had on set, the eagerness and desperate need to please far surpasses experience, your glasses fogging up when you pull back to take a breath then.

Satoru looks at his slick, spit covered cock, to thin trails of saliva disintegrating between your lips as you pull back, swiping at your lower lip. “How did I do?”

“Perfect.” His whisper is genuine, the words feel too good, you know you should stop, that you already wish he was yours, but you’re too addicted to how those blue eyes make you feel like you’re the only girl there is.

Even if it’s an illusion, a trick of your brain, or a practiced look.

The feeling is too euphoric not to be corrupted by it.

“You did such a good job, look at it, not any cum left. You sucked it all down, so greedy huh?” His hand comes under your chin, squeezing your neck gently yet so possessive, he wants to say it - his - but he knows he can’t. But it’s too easy to teeter off the edge, when your breaths come faster, breasts pressed up in that dress, rising and falling with each one.

“Satoru… I can keep going.” Your soft voice nearly ends him, little hand stroking his cock again.

“I was thinking of something, but if you don’t want to, it's okay.” You blink a bit then, tilting your head, tendrils falling against your bare shoulders.

“What is it?”

“A scene with me, but not showing your face at all,” your gasp and pull back makes him sigh. “It’d be like me eating your pussy, we could have it zoomed so no one sees your face.”

The thought, along with Satoru's sweet cum down your throat makes your tummy clench, while he brings out more and more of you that you didn't know existed. Your hands tense on his thighs now, taking a shaky breath, fingers along the downy hair on his thighs. “I don’t… Satoru you have a million options for costars-”

“I want yours. It’s the prettiest I’ve ever fucking seen.”

“Satoru…”

“It is. Wanna argue about my expertise here?” You just get more flustered and flushed, looking down nervously, but he tilts your chin with his big hand, angling your gaze upward. “I’ll split all the pay, you get eaten out, and anonymously. I’d never tell anyone, I’d never risk your career or anything. But I do need to do one, and I hate the thought of it not…” Satoru trails off now, the words sinking in.

“You like eating me out that much?” Your whisper makes him chuckle then, nodding and swallowing nervously.

“That pussy is perfect. How about we film it, and you watch it, and if you don’t want to, I just keep it to jerk off to…” Shit, he said that.

He’s so desperate and pathetic.

But you flush again, surprising him with your nod.

“Shit really!?”

“We can film it for us to watch, and… I doubt I’ll be okay sharing it, but we can see if you- ah!” Satoru’s got you lifted so fast you barely can blink, unzipped and turned in moments, leaving you in the prettiest red lace lingerie that makes him groan, his fingertips trembling on your skin. “I said probably not, don’t get excited.”

“I’m excited to bury my face between your thighs again, sweetheart.” You cry out when he’s pressed you on the bed, spreading your thighs and groaning, fingers tugging at your panties.

“How can you make sure my face isn’t there?” You ask softly, he grabs the camera and the stand then, cock just swinging around, balls smacking his thighs, so used to being naked he doesn’t realize his effects. You can’t stop staring when he gets it at the perfect angle, clicking his tongue.

“Just like that,” he murmurs, viewfinder showing your pretty cunt up close, he’s almost furious to think anyone could see it like him, but his career is teetering on the brink of nothing, and if you truly were okay with it, he only sees it as a win.

You broke his dick and now he’s begging to just lick you, and split pay with you, he never thought he’d be so pathetic, but it’s no wonder, thumbing your pussy and spreading it, sighing. “Mnh!”

“So, to keep it anonymous if you decide to show this, don’t speak too personally, okay sweets?” You nod shyly, gasping as he shoves your thighs up. “Also, hold them up high, so all we’re getting is a view of your pussy.”

“Yes, sir.” You tease, but his cock starts leaking again, earning his moan.

“Don’t speak too much, to be safe, I don’t ever want you to feel like anyone would know it’s you. Speak when we’re done, though, you can absolutely moan.” You nod, so nervous, what are you doing!?

It’s as if Satoru Gojo brings something insane and wild out, because there is a thrill of your pussy on camera suddenly, and knowing he is about to worship you, potentially in front of people has your cunt drooling for him. He hits record then, angling his face so his tongue was in perfect view lapping up the arousal, exhaling now as he shoves your thighs up higher.

Perfect, you’re perfect.

“God, look at this pretty pussy,” he murmurs into the camera, parting your folds so all that syrupy arousal can pool out, he hears your sharp intake of breath, watches your red nails pressing into the plush of your thighs. His cock is already back hard, he has to stroke it and whines out as he laps you up, making you gasp.

He's slurping you then, head tilted just so the camera can see, smacking your clit gently, watching you jerk, pressing your thighs up higher and tilting the camera so it's higher, right over his head, looking at it and the reflection of your perfect cunt while he slips the tip of his tongue up. You're moaning at the sensations, twitching hips bringing your cunt more in his face.

Satoru can't stand it, how good you taste, he wondered if it was an illusion but no, you are the sweetest thing he's ever had. “You're so wet, god, take a look…” he's fingering you now, and you hear it while he watches it, glimmering from the soft ring light glowing on your perfect pussy. Making him so dumb he's just burying his face then, forgetting he's filming.

“Mnh!” You're trying not to call out his name, thighs still so high you can't see his face, to protect you from getting seen, until he adjusts it, spreading your thighs further, leaning up to look down at you under lidded eyes, chin coated in your slick. “Satoru…”

“You okay sweets?” His whisper touches you, his concern for you even during this, making sure you're okay. You nod and he exhales in relief, kissing you for a moment, knowing it's what you need, brushing your hair back, sighing as he looks down at you. “You're doing so good. Can you cum for me, baby?”

You nod again eagerly, and he’s dived back down, fingering you with two curled right in your cunt, hitting that spot that blinds you every time, his moans so filthy, guttural while he watches, angling his wrist and hitting something then, you feel so much pressure you panic, gasping, writhing under him.

“Oh my - ngh! Fuck!” You’re struggling to keep your voice a whisper, palming your mouth while you shatter.

“That’s it, right there, cum for me, lemme drink it up. Let everyone see how much you love my fucking tongue.” Pornstar Satoru was ridiculous to handle, hitting you with his fingers and the tip of his tongue on your clit, when the pressure releases, and your orgasm hits so hard you can’t help but scream, twitching as he pulls back in surprise. “Fuck, you’re squirting f’me?”

You have no clue what he means, you don’t see it as it starts pouring all over, making a mess, wet spot under you even as Satoru grabs you by the fat of your ass, licking up as much as he can. You’re a twitching, soaked little mess, your hands gripping his hair now, screams echoing in the room while he eases off you just a bit now, ready to fuck your slick, messy cunt.

He trembles as he pulls back and does one more shot, pressing a sweet kiss to your pussy before shutting off the camera, and leaning up, kissing you, so desperate, while your slick thighs rub together, and you feel the mess. He pulls up and takes a breath, flipping you then, making you gasp, handing you the camera while he kisses the backs of your shoulders, hands on your ass, spreading it wide.

“Watch it, sweetheart,” he whispers, kissing across your shoulder blades, brushing your hair to one side while you barely have the strength to press play, and that’s when you see it. “Look how perfect you are.”

Your pussy right on camera, and him eyeing it like he’s worshipping it, like you’re his fucking altar and his mouth is that offering. Your cunt starts throbbing while he works you, kissing every inch of your body as you fall more and more into the abyss of sin, of lust, of desire- of Satoru Gojo.

“You love it, don’t you baby?” His words are hot against your ear, while you watch him on the screen licking your cunt, watch your thighs tremble, all while he’s behind you, sinking his two fingers so deep in your quivering hole again. You arch your back, moaning now, it feels so good you can’t stand it, so erotic watching this video you two took, while he’s fucking you with his thick fingers.

“I do, but it’s insane… ah! Satoru…” He sighs now, taking his fingers out, pressing them into your mouth for you to suck, which you quickly obey, eyes fluttering shut, the image of his tongue fucking you reflecting in the darkness.

“Keep it for us, or share? It’s all up to you. I’ll never pressure you either way,” he’s soft then, turning your chin as he lays heavy weight over you, and you eye the phone now, hand shaking just a bit, to close it out or to share, he takes your hand, steadying it. “It’s fine to be how you are, you’re perfect, okay?”

“It’s fine to be how you are, Satoru Gojo. A… question, though.” He sighs, leaning close, while he keeps holding your hand, hovering just so.

“Mmhmm?”

“Would I be your favorite co-star?” Your teasing question makes him laugh at the ridiculous nature.

You’re the only one he can even get hard for.

“You’re the prettiest, yummiest, sweetest co star I could have,” his words are just a little broken, as he almost says more. That he hopes your date sucks with that Nanami guy, that he’s planning to show up at your work tomorrow to glare at that man, that he’s become fucking obsessed, but instead - “How could you think you’re not?”

“And we’re… still friends…” You ache for him to say - no, it’s more - but he nods, against your neck, pressing kisses against it. “Even if we fuck?”

God.

He’s dying.

“You think I wouldn’t be your friend anymore? I’m not the guy to get what he wants and go. I promise.” You nod then, smiling just a bit, and tap the share button then, surprising both of you.

“Holy fuck, I did that…” Your whisper is met with Satoru’s kisses now, as your video plays for all to see, your moans on camera mixing with the ones induced from his play, one arm wrapping your body as his cock presses insistently against your ass, hot and heavy.

“Stop me now, because I can’t think of anything but fucking your pretty pussy raw right now,” his desperate words and dilated eyes just serve to ruin you, when you arch your ass up. “Fuck, you sure?”

“I want you inside me, please,” he eagerly leans back, gripping his cock and lifting your thigh, pressing into your tight ring of muscles, almost cumming from the fucking tip. “Ah!”

“You’re so tight, relax I don’t want to hurt you, please.” Satoru whispers it as he grips your chin.

You nod, as he is slipping a little deeper from the back, the stretch burning so deliciously, you’re convulsing while the viewers are going wild over Satoru’s devoted pussy eating skills with his mysterious, faceless co-star. His silk hair brushes your cheek as he exhales heavy in your ear, whispering your name.

You eye the video, the comments, vision blurry, while he sinks his cock deeper, and he moans as he reads the comments to you, filling your cunt so full of his cock, inch by inch - and there are so many, each thrust deeper while you cling to his wrists, his arms wrapping you. He keeps reading them, even as he shoves in all the way, making you jerk and gasp.

“Perfect pussy, look at Satoru go, god she’s so wet for him, she’s cumming so much - is she squirting? Look at that, you’re a regular star, huh? F-fuck…”

“Mnh!” Your eyes roll back in your fucking skull now, lost in him, lost completely. So deeply unraveled under him you can’t remember what this is, that it’s a friend, that it was a scene, that you’re now the girl who did that, anonymous but to know it’s you on that screen with Satoru devouring you does something, fuck it does too much.

He’s murmuring more comments, and his huge cock is stretching your slick, tight heat beyond its means. “That’s it, you love it, huh? They all want to be in your place, or they want to lick you instead, but it’s me, isn’t it baby?” He shouldn’t be possessive, he tries to tell himself it over and over, but how can he not be, when he’s shoved in so deep, he feels the bulge of your tummy, groaning. “Feel me, sweetheart?”

You can’t speak, just nodding desperately, while the feed goes insane, watching your cunt squirt on Satoru’s face while he’s buried inside you, filling you to the hilt, stretching you out so good you forget to breathe. “Toru!”

He pauses at the nickname, your slurred words and pulsing cunt ending him, he could almost cum then and there and he has amazing stamina, but he has to hold back, wrapping a hand around your throat and leaning up on an elbow while you gush down his cock. Satoru kisses up your neck hungrily, eyeing your pussy on the video and then your face, your eyes almost black with pleasure.

“Only I can hit that spot, hmm?” His tip drags along your spongy spot now, and you’re twitching, nodding, so consumed as he surrounds you, breath against your neck, moans in your ear, hand squeezing your throat just so under your chin. His cock twitches as he shoves deeper, impossibly deeper, while you helplessly grip the blankets beneath you. “Answer me, like a good girl.”

“Y-yes.” Your whisper drives him insane, feral, the way your walls quiver around his cock is exquisite, that grip unreal, but more than anything it feels perfect.

“Made for this cock, aren’t you pretty?” The words fall out before he can stop them, and your eyes rolling back, drool spilling out of your mouth while your cunt is pulsing is his answer. “Perfect, fuck…”

“Mnh!” You can’t take it, his words urging you when he shoves his cock so deep, the tip bruising your cervix, making you scream as his guttural moan fills the room, his hand squeezing just enough pressure to make your orgasm blinding, white hot.

“Cumming all over me, so good, listening f’me, hmm?” You just nod weakly, gasping when he flips you to your back, lifting your thighs and shoving them wide, slapping the tip on your slick cunt and groaning. “Wanna watch me fill you up?”

You nervously nod, swallowing now, and he sees it, you’re overwhelmed, he leans down, kissing you, and you’re desperately clinging to his back, eagerly kissing him despite being damn near slack jawed. You exhale nervously, eyeing him is even more intimate, impossibly more, his plush lips still tasting like your honeyed arousal from earlier.

“If it’s too much, tell me, I want you comfortable.” It’s hard for him to speak, but he does, making sure to reassure you, kissing your forehead before he leans back.

“It’s intense, Satoru but… I want it.” He moans at that, sliding his cock back inside, sucking in a breath when you’re gripping him fucking tighter this time, slipping in slowly, inch by inch. “Ah! Satoru, so d-deep!”

“I am, huh? I can get deeper, baby.” You cry out when he shoves his cock in deep with a sharp thrust, and then pauses, eyeing that bulge in your stomach. “Look.”

“Look at… oh.” You’re heating up at the image, and he’s all about angles, he makes sure your eyes catch every bit of his slow thrusts, filling your tummy full of his enormous cock, too much to take, but your cunt is willing and eager, struggling to take his size.

“Fucking you so deep, see it? Your body is so small compared to my cock, pussy stretched too much, f-fuck… god look at you…” He’s losing it, he was trying to talk sexy to you, which comes naturally, but now he’s just obsessed with the image, thin white brows lowering over his eyes, while he slams inside you, your thighs trembling as they wrap his slutty waist. “Oh my god…”

“Satoru… ah!” He’s done, he’s fucking lost in you, in your eyes when he shoves your thighs up, gripping your face with his huge hands while he’s got you bent in half, slamming so hard you scream. “Too much!”

“I need all of you, fuck… can you take more?” His eyes are so bright blue they burn to look at, but you can’t stop yourself, nodding and cupping his face in return.

“Kiss me please.” He moans at that, slamming his lips down when he rocks his hips, cock filling you so deeply you scream into his mouth, hands slipping to his hair while he’s got his heavy weight over you.

“I can’t control it anymore, baby, if it’s too much just fucking hit me at this point,” he’s nonsensical, leaning up now, hands on the back of your thighs in a mating press, fucking you hard now, powerful strokes that take you the fuck out, cumming in moments with a few strokes, making him whimper.

That’s a sound you know he’s never made.

You may be delusional, but you’re sure you’ve only heard him whimper for you, you’ve never seen that look in his eyes on any video or stream, not when he’s staring right into your fucking soul and slamming his cock deep over and over. You’re barely able to cling to the earth, so much pleasure rushing through your body, you feel every vein and ridge of that huge cock as it fucks into you.

“Perfect, pussy is perfect, fucking knew it but god. God… fucking feel her,” he slams into you again, head falling back, giving you a view of his throat before he eyes you once more, shaking his head and slamming his cock harder. “Can she take it?”

You just nod, you’d take anything, the way it feels to be ruined by Satoru Gojo is far beyond his balls slapping your ass, his cock stretching your cunt, his hands bruising your fucking thighs, no it was more. You want to be filled by him, folded under him, you want every bit of it, losing yourself in him, in his bright blue eyes, in his filthy fucking words, in his cock slamming your cervix.

You were ruined, and you knew it.

You feel too much, far too much, when he’s leaned back, holding your thighs high and watching his cock pull out and enter, slowing and rubbing your abused clit. “F-fuck, cum one more time, I’m close… your cunt is so fucking perfect, shit… c’mon, like a good girl, there you go baby…”

It’s like that goddamn dream.

Word for word.

You cum harder than you have, when he shoves into the hilt, stuffing your slutty little hole, blinded and dizzy, hardly able to breathe, while he watches you shatter under him, so fucking beautiful he can’t take it. Your brows drawn together, that sweat making your skin glisten, your mouth open in the sluttiest O, he can hardly stand what the image does to him.

He knows it then, he’s fucking beyond destroyed, and terrified at that fact, at the power you’re oblivious to over him. He almost busts inside you, something he has never done - he doesn’t even go without condoms - the thoughts of filling your cunt full are far, far too tempting. He stops himself, cursing and holding his slick cock at the base while you’re spasming around him, back arching.

“Where do you want all this cum, sweetheart?” He manages to ask, you’re so fucked out you’re dizzy, blinking Satoru’s white hair and pretty face into view as he pulses inside you, just thickening and making you whimper.

“W-what… where… you want, I… mnh!” You’re still cumming, aftershocks rocking you, making your skin so sensitive when he eases your sore thighs down, parting them and pulling out finally, stroking himself as you catch your breath, watching him spurt thick white ropes all over your cunt. “Oh! Oh…”

“Fuck, fuck… god… oh my…” He’s moaning as he’s desperately jerking his slick cock, so much cum it seems impossible, since he just busted so much, and you watch him, enthralled as the hot sticky sperm is coating your cunt. “God, look at it, fucking look at us baby.”

He’s too much, he’s too much.

You thought him eating you out fucked you up mentally, what is he, his insane ass eyes bright as he trembles, strong muscles bunching and tensing, a work of fucking art pouring his cum on you. You’re stuck, at a loss for words, mouth opening and closing, brain not even functional as you look up at this man, knowing this isn’t just sex, it fucking couldn’t be.

It can’t be like this with someone.

You almost spill every feeling then and there, lost in him, in his desperation when he rests his head on yours, moaning against your lips, tip brushing your engorged clit and making you whine out. “God, your pussy is too perfect, it’s… you’re too perfect, feel too good, look too good…”

“Satoru, are you okay?” You whisper softly, he’s slurring his words, almost hard to understand in their hushed whispers in between his pants.

He can’t even answer, pulling back and looking at your pretty cunt, all abused from his cock and puffy, covered in his white ropes. “Can I have a picture? Please, just for me.”

“Y-you want one?” He laughs softly, breathless, nodding, and you heat up at it, looking down shyly. 

“Only you can be adorable with your pussy beat up and coated in cum, huh?”

“Oh god!” He can’t take it, how cute you are, the affection eating at him, as he takes a deep breath, leaning back. “Just one.”

“Fuck…” He takes the phone, eyeing the amount of comments and tips while your breasts heave, trying to catch your breath, sticky cum dripping across your folds when you shift your hips.

“What is it?” You ask softly, he shows you the number, and your eyes nearly bulge out. “Holy fuck!?”

“This is good even for me, shit. Pussy is made for porn.” You’re blushing harder, biting your lower lip when he angles the camera, taking several photos and exhaling at how pretty it looks. “God, look at you.”

“Are you talking to me or my pussy?” He grins then, so boyish and charming it’s as if he wasn’t just fucking you into a mating press and filming your cunt. “Also I said one!”

“Sorry. I’ll make it up.” He’s kissing your thighs then, lapping some of his own cum off your slit, you gasp at the sensation, his tongue on your sore, overstimulated pussy now. Your hands entangle in his hair as he groans. “Fucking taste us.”

“Satoru you’re in-insane and- mnh! Fuck!” You’re shaking when he laps more off of you, desperately lapping at every inch of your cunt now. “Satoru!”

“Gotta clean my pretty costar up, she’s only my costar you know, only one I’ve ever-” He pauses, stopping himself, when you eye him, breasts still gently moving up and down as you eye him.

“Only one you’ve… ngh! Satoru!”

“Taste us.” He’s lapped more of his cum and yours, murmuring for you to open, which you eagerly do, letting him spit his cum and yours in your throat. “Swallow, there you go, see it’s perfect, huh?”

You’re lost then, in the filthy string of words, when he’s back down cleaning you up with a tongue that’s lethal in its precision, rocking his cock on the bed, hard for the third time with you as he moans desperately against you. He’s latched onto your clit, sucking, while you can’t stop cumming, pushed past overstimulation, but not once do you tell him to stop.

You want it.

You need it.

In tears from how much you’ve cum, desperate for more, swapping his cum and yours mixing, against your tongues as he talks you through it, as you lose yourself, Jenna told you not to, she told you not to forget. You are trying to keep it separated, but how the fuck can you?

It felt worth losing yourself, for him, under him, him inside you - around you - taking over everything, while he’s back inside you, his lips murmuring desperate, dirty words into your sweet mouth. When you’re so fucked out you actually pass out blissfully in his arms, you can’t even remember the girl you were a few weeks ago, waking up just to be filled by him again from behind.

Being in his arms, you hope it’ll counteract the pain when he moves on, when he’s kissing you while fucking you from the back, sweet little nothings against your lips filling the room along with the squelching of his cock filling your cunt again. Every inch of your body kissed by him, licked by him, head to your fucking toes, shifting you to some other dimension as you drink each other in, exhausted and desperate.

You’ll think about that pain later, for now it’s all pleasure, aside from the ache in your heart for more, endlessly more.

The love on this story is so sweet, it's FAR from over. Please be patient as these are long chaps and I have other projects, if you're not on the tags you can subscribe to me on ao3 or turn on notifs <3 Can't wait to hear your thoughts

Taglist 1 - @rjreins @juicu @kalulakunundrum @gojoswaterbottle @aldebrana @simp-plague @wedojustbevibin @lucciferr0 @officialholyagua @privthemis @coffee-and-geto @homesickes @msniks @emi311 @mai-505 @gojoslovelylover @ren-ren23 @yihona-san06 @emochosoluvr @sylvermoon @bunheadusa @karvokr @starmapz @queenexplosonmurderr @musiclover2119 @saitamaswifey @reagan707 @midorissi @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @itsinherited @maisiefrancesca @gyarubunny @theonlyhonoredone @chosslut @simperisksksk @xlilycoco @howlsdarling @femaholicc @maymaymarch @miseryyouth-99 @swoozleee @zeunys @cryingdevil @leafynightmares @princess-bblgm @gojosconsort @insomnicshello @joonunivrs @myahfig4 @silviscosplay

[solplease]

ok my friend said she’d take a look at it tmrw so im going to bed now. HAHA (i hope she says its good enough so i can just submit it and not care anymore) ((its the most bullshit essay ive ever written. but i tried my best.))

[kitteninabunker]

" lucky charm ! "

contains— female reader, spit, creampie, multiple orgasms (reader), sixsome, full nelson, double penetration, oral sex (m & f receive), anal, unprotected, toji calls a girl a bitch, toji being soft, mlm scene between geto & gojo, reader masturbates, mind breaking, nanami cameo, reader has a belly piercing, no penetration from geto this time

a/n— since u guys and i personally love dork!reader x jjk football team, i decided to write another one! prequel here you'll probably have to read that one first for this to make sense, also do not come for me because i have no clue about what goes on during football >.< this is also kinda rushed, let me specify that this is a college au too

word count— 9.1k… i apologize in advance

the whole football team is truly convinced that dork!reader is their "good luck charm."

ever since that night, when they all took turns with you in the locker room, fucking you until you were a babbling mess, they haven't lost a single game since. and now, with tonight being the night of the championship, and the team's reputation on the line, they aren't taking any chances.

it started out small, toji letting you wear his football jersey to cover up after they tore your outfit to pieces, the oversized fabric swallowing you up as he smirked at the sight. gojo carrying you on his shoulders, letting you wear his football helmet and laughing each time it fell over your eyes with any little movement you made, and geto sneaking you into games for free, so you can be in the stands, cheering for your favorite boys. they loved it, loved knowing their favorite girl was always there, watching, supporting them, belonging to them in a way nobody else could.

oh, and as for their girlfriends? well, the way you were just a bit too loud for their boyfriends whenever they scored a point earned you more than a few nasty looks, not that you cared. they definitely notice you, the way you're always at the football games, always getting their boyfriend’s attention, and they hated it. not because they actually love their boyfriends, but because the idea of some dorky girl stealing their spotlight was unbearable. the truth is, you are pretty, just as much as they are, and worthy of attention. but you're shy, kept your head in a book. it took a hit on your social life, sure, but that didn’t matter. because their boyfriends‘ didn’t seem to mind at all.

the stadium lights burn brightly against the dark sky, a sharp contrast to the biting cold air that nips at your bare legs. the crowd buzzes with excitement, fans bundled up in thick jackets and scarves, but here you are, shivering in your too-short miniskirt and your cropped top, stubbornly refusing to cover up. you'd spent so much time getting ready, doing your makeup, making sure you looked cute for them, and now, standing at the edge of the field, you wonder if you should've picked something less revealing. but it's too late for second guessing, especially when you hear a familiar voice call out—

"there's our girl."

warm hands settle on your shoulder as geto leans in, his lips brush against your temple before he moves over in front of you. the others aren't far behind—toji, sukuna, gojo, and choso—following closely behind, surrounding you with their broad, towering frames. their presence is overwhelming in the best way. "tryin' to look extra pretty for us tonight, huh?" geto murmurs, his thumb wiping off some of the smudged gloss at the corner of your lips with his free hand, he's clutching his football helmet tightly in the other. it's true, you wanted to look pretty for the guys today, glossy lips, cute little outfit, your hair worn down instead of pulled back into your usual ponytail, but with the weather being practically freezing since the sun isn't out anymore, you look silly in your white miniskirt, to anyone that isn't gonna fuck you, anyways, that barely reaches where your thigh and ass meet. but when you catch the way they're all looking at you, as if you're the only thing worth staring at, drooling like starving dogs, it felt worth it.

still, a tiny feeling of self-consciousness bites at you. should you have worn a different outfit? something that wouldn't draw so much attention to you? wouldn't make you feel so aware of yourself? “o-oh, do i offend?” you innocently ask, raking through your hair with your fingers and smoothing down the back of your skirt. "you wouldn't let us go into the biggest game of the season without a little extra luck, would you?" geto asks, mock sadness in his voice as he pouts. you fidget with the ends of your hair, dropping your head to stare down at your shoes on the dark green grass only to notice just how much bigger the guys are than you as they stand around. "don't go all shy on us, y/n." toji chuckles from beside geto, his hand finds your chin as he places a gentle finger beneath it and tilts your head up so you're looking right at him. his gaze holds nothing but affection, and it makes the heat burning your face and the tips of your ears worse.

he's close enough that you catch the faint scent of cologne and sweat on him, his jersey clinging to his broad shoulders. the soft warmth in his gaze makes your stomach twist, and suddenly, you feel too seen, too small in the midst of them. gojo chuckles from beside toji, arms crossed over his chest as he leans in, eyes scanning over you in a way that makes your stomach flip. “what’s with the face, princess?” he teases. “you were all confident a second ago."

your fingers twitch, and you can't stop your hand from moving to your face as you slip your glasses off, tucking them away as the insecurities settle in. maybe you'd look better without them—prettier, like the girls they're usually seen with. but the moment your glasses come off, your vision becomes hazy. toji's handsome features you were just staring at go blurry. you can feel your eyes crossing and you blink, squeezing your eyes shut as if that'll help. before you can fumble for them, sukuna, who’d been watching with a smirk, walks over and plucks your glasses from your hands with an amused scoff. "nice try, sweetheart." he mutters, carefully sliding your glasses back onto your face again, adjusting them.

the moment your vision clears and your eyes go back into focus, choso whistles lowly from his spot beside sukuna. "much better," he coos, ruffling your flat-ironed hair before tilting his head with a dramatic sigh. you open your mouth to protest, you'd rather sacrifice your sight if that meant knowing you looked good, but gojo beats you to it, his usual grin stretching wide as he leans in. "honestly, i dunno why you even tried that, you’re already gorgeous.” he says, “don’t hide this pretty face from us."

heat sizzles on your cheeks, but before you can process gojo's words, sukuna swoops in and wraps his muscular arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him until your chest is pressed against his abs. “m’ so happy our girl came to see us.” he murmurs, pressing a kiss onto your forehead. you wrap your arms around the back of his neck, he drops his head so your foreheads are pressed against each other as the tip of your noses touch. you smile up at him, cupping his face with your hands. "alright, alright, that's enough." you hear toji say as he and the rest of the guys crowd around you two, toji makes the first move, leaning in as he starts kissing your cheek, gojo nuzzles his nose against your neck before latching his lips onto your skin, geto stands behind you as his large hands explore your waist, choso presses soft, lazy pecks along your shoulder, while sukuna smirks and tilts your chin up, stealing a quick kiss right from your lips.

you feel your heart skip a few beats as you pull back from sukuna's lips, his eyes locked onto your flushed face as he stands straight up, allowing everyone to get a good look at you. "look at 'er." toji drawls, his voice laced with amusement. "all dolled up, looking cute as hell." his green eyes drag down your body, lingering just long enough on your smooth thighs and the hem of your miniskirt to make your thighs press together. "almost too good to be true."

sukuna huffs a low laugh beside him, reaching down to toy with the edge of your skirt. "you wore this thing just for us, baby?"

"mhm!" you proudly declare, nodding your head and lightly pinching the fabric of your skirt. your lips tighten in an upside-down smile, you twirl a lock of your hair around your finger and slightly sway. even though you're shy, you crave this kind of attention. and just like that, the insecurity gnawing at you starts to fade. maybe you don't fit in with the cheerleaders, maybe you aren't as loud, as confident, as perfect as they are, but these guys don't seem to mind. in fact, they love it.

"you cold, y/n?" toji's smug expression fades into something softer, pure concern in his voice. his brows knit together as he shrugs off his jersey, pulling it over your head without waiting for an answer, the fabric heavy and warm as it falls past your knees. "there, don't get sick trying to be cute. you already are."

sukuna smacks his lips, watching toji with an amused look. "man, look at you," he drawls, shaking his head. "all soft for her like some lovesick puppy." gojo snickers, elbowing sukuna. "never thought i'd see the day when the big bad toji fushiguro gives up his jersey and his dignity in one move." toji grunts, adjusting the jersey on you like he didn't hear them. "shut up." his hand lingers on your shoulder, tugging the fabric into place, and yeah, they all see it.

"aww, she's blushing." choso calls out, smiling and patting your shoulder.

before you could respond, a sharp, piercing whistle cuts through the air. "enough." coach nanami's voice is flat, unimpressed as he walks up to the huddle with his arms crossed. his usual stern expression is set in place, brows furrowed as he glares at the group. "get your asses in gear. now." the guys groan, shaking their heads as they start to ready themselves for the game. geto sighs dramatically, stepping back. "guess we'll have to pick this up later."

"but don't go anywhere." choso gives you a pointed look, his fingers briefly squeeze your wrist before he lets go. "we wanna hear you cheering for us."

gojo smirks, reaching out to tap your chin. "loud and clear, yeah?"

"yeah," you breathe, barely registering your own voice.

you watch the three of them take off towards the middle of the field, but before sukuna follows, he quickly crouches down until his lips are at your ear. "cheer the loudest for me." his voice a raspy whisper, then he's gone, running after the others, leaving you grinning to yourself. you turn your attention back towards toji who's already staring at you. "aren't you gonna go?" you ask, nodding your head towards the field. "yeah, yeah.” he mutters, but makes no effort to leave. instead, he lets his gaze sweep over you, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. “just let me admire you a little longer. you’re so damn cute wearing my jersey.”

before you can even think of a response, nanami's sharp voice cuts through the moment.

“fushiguro!”

you whip around to see coach nanami, arms crossed, his sharp eyes snapping over at you in toji’s oversized jersey. “what the hell is she doing with that on?!?!”

toji sighs, dragging a hand down his face before stepping back, but not before he tugs the fabric into place, making sure you're covered properly against the cold air. "relax, coach,“ he drawls, already jogging off toward the locker room. “i’ll grab another one.”

coach nanami exhales hard, sighing as he pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. his clipboard slips from his grip, hitting the ground with a dull thud. "dealing with college boys is a fucking nightmare."

he mutters something under his breath again as he bends to grab his clipboard, shaking his head like he's this close to losing it. but you barely notice it, your focus lingers on toji's retreating form, the warmth of his jersey still heavy on your body. it smells like him too, like worn leather, faded cologne, and a hint of sweat, and you fight the urge to bury your nose in it.

"you're unbelievable," coach nanami sighs, dragging you out of your thoughts.

"what?" you blink up at him with giant eyes thanks to your lenses, feigning innocence.

his tired gaze flicks between you and the team warming up on the field, then back to you, deadpan.

"just... stay out of trouble," he mutters, turning on his heel.

the stands are already packed with students, alumni, parents who think their kids are going to make it to the NFL, and locals all gathered for the championship game. the energy is buzzing. you should be focusing on that, but instead, your attention shifts to the sidelines, to them.

sukuna is the first to notice you watching, he smirks, throwing you a wink before rolling his shoulders like he's showing off. you watch how the muscles in his tattooed arms flex, and it gives you a shameful heat between your legs. geto catches on next, and even from this distance, you can see the teasing glints in his eyes. gojo, of course, takes it a step further, making a big show of blowing you a kiss. choso's stretching on the field, his eyes locked onto your figure with intense concentration.

you step onto the bleachers, slowly and quietly walking to an open spot with your cherry slushie and ketchup and mustard covered hotdog from the concession stand—your favorite. as you walk, you notice how the sound of conversation starts to die down, not all at once, but as if everyone you walked by went silent, finding staring at you to be a lot more interesting than whatever they were talking about. you keep your head down, pretending not to notice, but you can feel it. the weight of everyone's eyes on you, the murmurs passed between groups.

by the time you take a seat on the silver bleacher, it's clear, the excitement of the game or the players making their entrance, none of that is what gets people talking.

it's you.

wrapped in toji's jersey, oversized and undeniably his.

"wait, isn't that toji's?"

"yeah... why does she have it?"

"does she know him like that?"

you hear the whispers behind you, feel the stares burning into your back, some confused, some sharp with irritation. your stomach twists, a knot tightening deep in your gut as you clutch the jersey in your fist, gripping the fabric like it might somehow shield you from their scrutiny. you shift your weight, fighting the urge to shrink into yourself and disappear into the crowd. you nervously take a bite of your hotdog even though the energy you feel around you just killed your appetite.

cowering away isn't an option anymore, the cheerleaders have already seen you. and judging by the way some of them are glaring, they're not glad to see you. one of them makes a sharp scoff you can hear since your standing behind her on the bleachers, and it makes your heart sink. their boyfriends are the stars of the show, they should be the ones getting all the attention, but here you are. tucked away in an oversized jersey, the one that belongs to another girl's man, stealing glances and soft smiles that belonged to them. you don't miss the way they're eyeing you, how their perfectly manicured fingers tighten around their pom-poms, how their lips curl slightly.

"god, she's always here," one of them mutters to another under her breath, but it's loud enough for you to hear.

"it's pathetic," another sneers. "she's not even that pretty."

you swallow hard, fingers twitching at the hem of the jersey.

you knew this was coming, they've never liked you. always had something to say about how you looked, what you wore. they picked you apart about everything, and this moment brings you back to memories you'd rather forget. the worst part is, they aren't wrong. you aren't like them. you aren't a cheerleader. you don't have perfectly styled hair or expensive clothes, or the confidence to walk across campus like you own the place. you're just... you.

"focus!" coach nanami barks at the team, blowing his whistle. "game starts in five!"

you squeeze the jersey tighter in your fist, finger's twisting into the heavy fabric. okay, maybe this whole thing was a mistake. maybe you should've stayed home, watched the game from your dorm, spared yourself the humiliation—

"oi."

your head snaps up at the sound of a voice, deep and rough, cutting right through the chatter. the whispers die down almost instantly, and suddenly toji is right there. standing in his newer jersey he ran off to retrieve.

he's not looking at the crowd, not sparing the cheerleaders a glance, not paying attention to anyone except you.

"toji?" you ask, craning your head up as he reaches out, his rough fingers grazing your thigh as he tugs at the hem of his jersey. he's making sure it's still snug on your body and doing its job to keep you warm. "aren't you gonna go play?"

"yeah, i am." he mutters, but his eyes don't leave your face. his jaw tightens, turning his head to the side just for a second before he scoffs. "just didn't like the way those bitches are ogling at you." it takes you a moment to realize who he's talking about, so you shift slightly, leaning past toji's broad frame, and sure enough—you see the cheerleaders. their glossy lips are curled into little sneers, arms crossed, their eyes locked onto the two of you like they're barely restraining themselves from marching over. yeah, the loser nobody hangs out with gets to wear a football player's jersey, so what? you want it to be a silent flex that you took their man. but the practical part of you takes over, and you quickly duck back behind toji. your fingers curls around his sleeve as you press yourself against his chest.

"that's cute," he huffs out a laugh as he feels the top of your head on his abs, shaking his head. "you gonna hide beneath me all night?"

"no..." you, admittedly, felt safe hiding beneath him, as if he were a shield for everyone's current awkward staring.

"wait... are they actually—"

"what? since when?"

toji smirks, knowing exactly what he's doing, he wants them to see. "there," he murmurs, giving the fabric one last tug before letting it go. you blink up at him, lips parted, unsure of what to even say. he just grins, reaching out to ruffle your hair before turning back toward the field.

"don't move," he calls over his shoulder, voice teasing as he jogs to join the rest of the team. "gotta win this game for our girl, yeah?"

you've been holding your breath the entire time.

watching as toji plows through the defenders, and sukuna stiff-arming a smaller player on the opposing team so hard he hits the ground. "too slow, dumbass." he sneers before launching the ball across the field to geto, who catches it effortlessly, barely breaking his stride. choso is calm, his eyes narrowed as he watches the other players. the moment he sees geto launch the ball into the air towards him, he sprints. weaving through the players with percussion and catching it before tossing the ball to gojo.

you can't look.

the pressure it too much, the pounding of your heart against you ribcage is deafening in your own ears as you swallow thickly and squeeze your eyes shut.

then—

the stadium buzzer blares, the announcer screaming into the microphone, "TOUCHDOWN SCORED BY GOJO SATORU!"

they won... your boys won!

the stadium erupts, a deafening mix of cheers and screams shaking in the air as everyone jumps up, hugging and celebrating. on the field, the players swarm each other, a chaotic mix of bodies clashing victory. you catch a glimpse of the opposing team, some shaking their heads, others already trudging off the field in defeat. their coach looks like he's about to lose his mind, throwing whatever was in his hands to the ground before gripping his hair in frustration.

"yes!" you cheer, arms flying up as you beam at the celebration around you. the energy is overwhelming, everyone’s screams ringing in your ears. without thinking, you immediately rush down from the stands and onto the field. to no surpise, gojo is already rushing towards you. your feet barely hit the ground before he grabs you first by your waist, lifting you up effortlessly. "did you see that?! we won!" he laughs, spinning you around.

"i saw!" you giggle, clinging onto his shoulders. the second he sets you back on the ground, sukuna swiftly grabs you next, pulling you into his chest as he smirks against your ear. "cheered the loudest for me, huh? knew you would, sweetheart." his usual smugness is dripping from his voice.

"delusional," geto scoffs, pushing sukuna aside as he wraps his arms around you, hugging your head and inhaling the scent of your strawberry scented shampoo that still lingers in your hair. "i knew you wouldn't let us lose."

choso pulls you in next, his arms are tight but warm as he lays his head on the top of yours, murmuring a quiet, "our good luck charm."

you don't spot toji anywhere as you turn your head to scan the field, then he appears right behind you, tugging you out of geto's grip and spinning you around to look at him.

he's soaked in sweat and breathing hard, but his grin is wide and all for you. he hugs your waist tightly, "we won, baby." his voice is low, warm.

"i know, congratulations!" you breathe, grinning so hard your cheeks ache.

"don't congratulate us, sweet thing." gojo says, playing with a strand of your hair. "we owe it all to you."

"and you looked so damn cute watching us do it." toji adds, his hand squeezing your waist

before you can even roll your eyes, he yanks you up off of your feet. you gasp, legs dangling as his lips crash against yours.

the kiss makes your head full fuzzy, heat and hunger forming in your core. toji's hands are gripping your waist like he can't stand the thought of letting you go. your fingers twist into his jersey—well, his other jersey since you're still swaddled in his old one.

you forget about those lingering stares, the whispered remarks, the cheerleaders who looked at you like they wanted to murder you, the jealous glances thrown your way. the world around you slowly seems to go silent, no crowd, you judgment, nothing—just you and your boys.

"hey, don't hog her, old man," sukuna grunts, yanking you from toji's arms and into his own. his sharp grin is wicked, his hands wandering down to your plump ass and he gives it a rough squeeze,

“sukuna!" you yelp, giggling.

"sukuna," choso warns, but the way his grip on your wrist tightens betrays him too, doesn't want to let you go.

"what? can't help it." sukuna shrugs, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of toji's jersey draped over you, flipping it over your skirt as the cold air kisses your exposed skin. sukuna sharply inhales your scent, hugging you close as his whispering voice sends a sharp jolt through you. "not my fault she's so sexy."

your breath catches, but the guys don't miss it. they never do.

"getting shy, sweetheart?" geto teases, stepping behind you. "you were so confident screaming for us just a second ago."

"s'not fair," you mumble, suddenly aware of the way they're all looking at you with hungry stares. the boys who just won the biggest game of the season and only want one thing to celebrate groping you in front of everyone.

"no?" gojo tilts his head with faux innocence, "then what is fair? 'cause i think we deserve a proper reward, don't you?"

“alright, that’s enough of this,” toji grunts, he hauls you up and throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. "let's show her what we really want."

“toji—?!” you squeak, your hands immediately gripping the back of his jersey as you lift your head, turning it to look at him.

“relax, sweetheart,” he says, giving your ass a playful smack that makes you jolt and kick your leg. “time for the real celebration.”

the others don’t even question it, if anything, they’re laughing, trailing closely behind as toji strides off the field with you in tow. you were always meant to end up like this, a girl in her skimpy little outfit being carried like a sack of potatoes on a man's shoulder.

“what makes you special enough to have her all to yourself?” choso huffs, his jaw ticking as his dark eyes lock onto yours. he drags his tongue over his bottom lip, slow and deliberate. with that, you remember how his cock felt in your mouth, the weight of him on your tongue, the warmth of his cock stretching your mouth, the way he groaned when you took him deeper. heat floods your face, your breath hitching at the memory. you swallows hard and immediately advert your gaze which makes him chuckle.

“well, she is wearing my jersey.” toji smirks, gripping your asscheek again as you wiggle in his hold. you feel his arm tightening over you, “keep squirming, and we’ll handle you right here.” he warns, his voice is smooth but you don’t miss the promise.

that shuts you up, you slap your hands over your face even though you wouldn’t mind if they took you right here, on the field for everyone to see.

you turn your head back around just in time to watch the last of the crowd start to clear out—parents, students, faculty leaving the stands and off the field until it’s quiet, until it’s just you and them. the atmosphere is still heavy with the buzz of the win, but none of that matters now. it’s just you and your boys alone on the field, their footsteps are slow behind toji, trailing you both across the field and toward the locker room doors. you can feel their eyes burning into your body. winning the championship wasn’t enough for them, toji’s carrying the real prize on his shoulder right now, anyways.

you know exactly how this night is gonna end.

toji carries you inside of the locker room, arms snug over your lower back. the humid air thick with sweat, musk, and testosterone floods your senses, dragging you back in time. “can you take dick, pretty girl?” your breath catches in your throat as your brain goes back to the first time you were ever here, pressed against sukuna’s muscular body, clawing at his broad shoulders and struggling to hold yourself together as you got your guts rearranged and pounded. your thighs press together as the throbbing between your legs returns, your chest rises and falls too fast, fingers tangling in toji's jersey.

“you’re quiet all of a sudden,” gojo murmurs behind him, looking at you. “what’s wrong?”

you look up at him, head titled slightly with your lips caught between your teeth.

sukuna leans in close, his grin sharp. “she remembers," he clicks his tongue. "don’t you, baby?"

of course you do. how could you forget? it was your first time getting fucked, your first time getting your poor virgin cunt stretched open by huge athletic dick and they didn't even bother to go easy on you. you remember the way you sobbed, begging for the break you never got.

how could they forget?

“she’s getting all shy,” geto teases, reaching out to brush his knuckles down your arm as you cling onto toji’s back.

“actin' like we haven’t seen every inch of this pretty body,” toji chuckles, squeezing a greedy handful of your ass as he shifts his hold, cradling you in his arms bridal style before he lowers you down so you can sit on the bench.

you sit in front of them, shrinking beneath their gazes, surrounded. everywhere you look is a tall, horny body that's already had you and wants you again. deja vu settles into you as you swallow thickly, looking up and giving them doe eyes.

choso steps forward, fingers curling around your waist, thumbs pressing lightly into your hips. he bends to your height, his dark eyes stare into yours as he tilts his head with a soft expression. “do you remember how it felt?” he whispers, voice ghosting over your lips. “right here, on this bench? you were shaking so bad.”

your eyes soften as you nod, slow and shy, lips parting just slightly.

"aww," gojo coos, grinning at you as he crouches beside you. "she's nervous. you're not scared of us now, are you?"

"i'm not," you whisper, voice small.

you say you aren't nervous, aren't nervous for another around of five dicks taking you again, that sounds amazing in your mind, in fact, but your body language gives you away. your fingers twist at the hem of toji's jersey, and your breath stutters when choso's hand grazes your shoulder, his palm warm against your skin.

“she’s remembering how good i felt inside of ‘er,” sukuna chimes, his voice dark with amusement as he leans against the wall, arms crossed. “bet her cute little pussy’s already making a mess in those panties.”

“i think she liked it too much last time,” geto hums. his fingers slip beneath jersey, dipping into the waistband of your skirt, he tugs the fabric off of your belly gently, letting it snap back against your skin. “look at her squirm.” you gasp slightly, feeling geto’s fingertips trace patterns across your stomach.

toji’s hand returns to your thigh as he takes a seat on the bench next you, thumb drawing lazy, possessive circles just beside the edge of your panties. “still so soft,” he mumbles. “you want it again, don’t you?” he’s looking at you, green eyes trailing over your features. “you wanna feel our dicks streching every opening you have out?”

truth is, you’re not shy because they’ve fucked you before. you’re wondering if they’re noticing the acne dotting your cheeks, if they think your braces make you look juvenile, if your glasses—those stupid, ridiculously thick things—make your eyes look comically big. you glance away, chewing the inside of your cheek.

“hey,” toji murmurs, voice dipping low as his hand catches your chin, turning your face gently back to him. “don’t hide. you look so fucking cute like this.”

you glance over at him, lips parted and your breaths shallow. there’s no hiding it right now, they read you an open book. the heat in your chest spreads all the way to your core. a smile curls across your face, right now you’re just a shy, but eager thing. “yeah,” you breathe. “i do.”

“see? there’s our smile.” toji grins down at you, pinching your cheek playfully before standing upright and steppiing back. “hmm,” sukuna hums, already stalking closer. “you’re still wearing too many clothes.” his fingers tug at the hem of the oversized jersey still draped over your body, his jaw ticks, eyes narrowed. “you should be wearing mine.” he mutters beneath his breath, a smug look curling his lips.

“strip.”

the single word cuts though the air. you immediately snap your head up at sukuna as his words cut through the air. your heart skips beats as your lips part. you blink, pulse thudding in your own ears. they—they want you to take your clothes off? right here, in front of them? by yourself? you hesitate for a bit, and the air around you grows hot and still, five sets of eyes are locked in you now, and they all look like they’re about to pounce on you.

“uhmmm,” you scratch your head, blinking. “you… want me to get naked?”

“duh.” geto says, smirking as he crosses his arm. “you’ve got two hands for a reason.”

the others chuckle lowly, the kind of laugh that sends heat crawling up your neck. your eyes flick between each of them, choso watches you with that quiet, shy, pink-colored blush across his cheeks, he’s patient. toji leans back with a knowing smirk, like he’s already seen this play out in his head. sukuna looks like he’s gonna tear those damn clothes off of you himself, his jaw tight. gojo’s gaze is steady and unreadable, but you know he’s growing impatient as well. and geto? he’s already palming his heavy, budging cock through his uniform, shameless and nearly shaking with arousal.

“hm, okay!” your fingers curl beneath the hem jersey as you pull it over your head, gently placing on the bench behind you. you pull your shoes off then your socks, leaving you in nothing but your crop top and your miniskirt. the cool air in the room brushes your exposed skin, hardening your nipples beneath your shirt. you slowly begin to lift your top, rolling the fabric up inch by inch, reaching the soft swells of your breast. their gazes don’t waver, if anything, they darken. then comes your skirt, you hook your thumbs under the waistband, shimmying down your hips, letting it fall to the floor with a soft rustle. now, you’re standing before them in nothing but your magenta thong.

“fuck,” toji exhales, his eyes darkening as he looks you over. “you look even better than i remember.”

they can see the outline of your cunt, the thin strip of your soaked thong barely covering anything. the shiny jewelry in your belly button catches the light, drawing attention to how it glistens so perfectly against your skin. choso silently moves toward you, gently spinning you around until your back rests against his chest. he leans down, brushing his lips against yours in a soft kiss. you follow suit as you move your arm to cup his face with your hand. his palms glide over the soft curve of your belly, squeezing your waist before one hand snakes down past the band of your panties.

you gasp into choso's mouth as your tongue laps around with his, his fingers sliding between your slick folds. you feel their hands all over your body, tracing your hips, brushing your arms, tugging the thin band on your panties that could easily rip. the way you feel so open, right there and available makes you hornier than ever. gojo's in front of you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pressed his bulge onto your barely cunt through your thin lace thong. your eyes fly open as you feel it, the pulse right beneath you and begging to feel your warm walls gushing around it when you cum. someone's lips are on your neck, their teeth gently scraping your skin. you can tell it's geto's breath brushing against the shell of your ear, his hands palming your soft, plump sss as his fingers curl into the plush of it.

choso pulls back from the kiss, a line of spit connects your lips to his as he stares down at you. "you gonna be good for us, pretty girl?" he huffs, catching his breath after kissing you. "bet that mouth of yours could make us all see starts." before you can even answer, gojo presses his twitching cock through his uniform harder against your wet cunt, feeling your juices start to leak out and seep through the fabrics. "you remember how good we made you feel last time, hm? how sweet you sounded with your mouth full?" he laughs softly as he feels you tremble, pressing a kiss on the side of your face.

choso slides his hand along your waist, eyes soft but dark with lust. "you can handle us," he murmurs. "we'll go slow. or not." his fingers hook beneath the band of your panties as he tugs them down until they pool around your ankles, leaving your cunt exposed for all of them to see. he picks you up, carrying you back to the bench, your back pressed against his back. "spread it, show everyone how much you want it." he whispers into your ear. you spread your puffy cunt apart, showing off your glistening pink insides. "like this?" choso keeps your legs up by locking his arms around the back of your knees, making sure you're absolutely on display and vulnerable.

"fuck, she looks so delicious and innocent." you hear someone murmur. you watch toji crouch down between your legs, licking his lips and staring at your leaking cunt. "been thinking about how sweet this pussy tastes since last time. "aaah!" a whimper slips out of your mouth as he lowers his head and licks a long stripe up your slit. the moan that rips from your mouth is cut short, because sukuna grabs your jaw and turns your head towards him.

"you're not getting off that easy, open up and let me feed you this dick." he doesn't wait for you to nod, his twitching cock is already thick and heavy in his hand as he pressed it against your lip. "and don't use your teeth, we can't have those braces getting in the way, can we?" your body jolts as toji's tongue flicks against your clit, hot and relentless, and you part your lips on instinct, letting sukuna slide past your tongue. the stretch burns, but you moan around him anyway.

"that's it," sukuna growls, one hand tangled in your hair and the other cradling your jaw as he starts to fuck your mouth slowly. "fucking perfect." toji groans between your legs, fingers spreading you wider as he licks you open. "she's dripping," he growls. "tastes like she's been waiting for this."

above you, gojo chuckles, cock already out and twitching in his hand. your lips are stretch around sukuna's dick gojo grabs your hand and sticks his cock inside, you instinctively stoke it as gojo reaches down to your cunt to gather your slick and spread it all around his shaft. your hips twitch against toji's face, trying to grind down and he answers with a rough suck to your clit that makes you moan around sukuna's dick as he grabs a handful of hair from the back of your head and forces your head against his pelvis.

"she's close," choso says as he watches, feeling your body jerk against him as he moves one of his hands to play with your boob. and that's when you feel another tongue making laps around your clit alongside toji's. your eyes fly open as you pull sukuna's cock out of your mouth to watch geto and toji licking your pussy like it's the best thing they've ever tasted.

"guys—aaah!" you whimper, grinding harder against both of their faces and you feel it, you feel yourself squirt as the move move to watch it. "good girl!" toji praises as him and geto lap up your juices, geto moves a bit lower to clean up the mess you just made that's leaking down into your tightest hole. your jaw aches, throat raw from taking sukuna so deep, and your arm burns from how tightly you're stroking gojo, but you don't stop. you can't stop. not when toji and geto are making you see stars with their tongues, their mouths warm and wet, taking turns sucking and licking until your thighs twitch uncontrollably.

and through it all, choso keeps you steady in his lap, hands soft on your tits, fingers rubbing your nipples until they're painfully hard and sensitive.he's murmuring against your temple, saying things you can barely hear over the moaning and slick sounds around you.

then, slowly, the touches start to fade.

toji pulls back from between your legs first, his mouth wet with your slick. "look at you," he pants. "fucking wrecked already." you whimper as geto presses one last kiss on your clit before rising to his feet, eyes dark and hungry. gojo huffs a soft laugh, grabbing your chin and making you look at all of them standing over you now.

"who's taking her first?" sukuna grunts, still stroking his cock lazily in his hand. "she's soaked."

"i'll do it," toji says without hesitation, already peeling off his clothes, his cock thick and hard as it bounces free. "i need to feel that tight little pussy gushing around my cock." choso eases you off his lap and helps you lie back on the bench, legs still trembling and glistening. your limbs feel like jello, but you arch your back on all fours, aching for more.

toji steps between your legs, his hands rough as they grab your hips and drag you toward the edge. he spreads you open with his thumbs, groaning at the sight of your dripping hole. "still so fucking wet," he mutters. "you want me to stretch you out, baby?"

you nod helplessly, tongue still thick from sukuna's cock. your voice comes out soft and ruined. "yes... please." you arch your back deeper snd sway your ass, your cunt clenching desperately around nothing and begging to be filled up to the brim. you look back at toji with glossy eyes as your cheek is pressed against the bench

toji holds the base of his thick cock, dragging his fat mushroom tip between your slick folds as it bumps your clit with makes you mewl. "mmmph, p-put it in already!" you softly beg, which makes the guys chuckle. "she's so cock drunk already, dumb little whore." gojo teases. toji lines himself up and pushes inside, slow at first-but he's big, and you feel the burning stretch all the way to your lungs. your back arches with a cry ripping from your throat.

"fuck, she's tight," toji groans, hands bruising on your hips as he starts to thrust, steady and deep. you feel his tip pushing so far inside of you, poking your gut as you wrap your arm around you belly, feeling the shape of his dick bulging through you. he lands a glob of spit onto your asshole, rubbing it around your little hole with the pad of his thumb as he starts to slowly slip it inside.

the others circle around, watching, stroking themselves, eyes locked on where tojl's cock disappears into your soaked cunt over and over and dragging out covered in a thick sheet of your slick. "look at how she's gripping him," gojo murmurs, his hand sliding down your throat, thumb resting just under your jaw. "bet she's gonna cum just from getting filled."

"won't last long," sukuna smirks, fisting his cock. "not when she's clenching like that."

toji grins down at you, sweat dripping from his brow. he watches as a white ring of your arousal bubbles at his shaft, his cock starts to leak precum which makes it easier from him to slip in and out of you faster as he picks the up the pace. your plush ass jiggles against his abdomen as he yanks your free arm behind your back. "you gonna cum for me first, sweetheart? show them how good i fuck you?"

your body answers before you can. the orgasm tears through you suddenly, violently, your legs kicking, cunt pulsing around toji's cock as he growls and fucks you through it. you're barely holding on, legs trembling, body slick with sweat and spit and cum. tojl's still panting above you, cock twitching as he pulls out and lets your pussy drip down onto the bench, but not before he buries himself until his red tip is flush against your cervix, releasing his own load of hot, stick cum as it squirts out in thick ropes. he licks his lips as he looks at your raw, pink hole—all stretched open and used :( you think maybe they'll let you rest, after they all watched you get fucked like that, there’s only so much a girl can take.

they don't.

"you didn't think we were done, did you?" sukuna laughs, grabbing you by the hips and flipping you over like you weigh nothing. you squeal, dizzy, arms trembling as you brace yourself on all fours. choso is already lying back on the bench, thick cock standing straight up between his legs. "come here, baby," he murmurs, pulling you toward him. you straddle him instinctively, thighs trembling as you lower yourself onto his length, your cunt already dripping and eager as his tip starts to split your entrance open. he groans, head tipping back with his hands gripping your hips to keep you steady. "fuck—just like that."

sukuna's behind you again, his cock resting heavy between your cheeks, "hold her open," he barks, choso's hands slide to your ass, spreading your cheeks apart and holding you open wide for sukuna's gaze. your breath catches. "you ready to take both?" choso groans, lining himself up beneath your drooling pussy while sukuna's cock rests against your tight, untouched hole. he spits, the filthy sound echoing in the locker room as lands on your hole. sukuna rubs the head of his against your rim, letting his precum smear around your hole with the spit. "she's shaking." choso breathes, looking up at with, concerned tangled with lust.

"she can take it," sukuna grins, grabbing a fistful of your hair. "she's our little toy, remember?" you breath catches, then turns into a scream as sukuna pushes histhe first stretch making your whole body tense. choso pushes into your soaked cunt at the same time sukuna starts to press into your ass, both of them groaning low as they stuff you full from both ends. it hurts-it burns-but it's so much, too much, and your body starts to melt into it.

"fuck, she's tight," choso hisses. "gripping me like she was made for this." sukuna moans against your back, lips brushing your spine. "she's squeezing me too," he pants. "she's fucking perfect." their thrusts start slow but get brutal fast. they pound into you like they're competing, their cocks dragging over every sensitive spot until you're screaming, drooling, babbling nonsense. you feel like you're going to break apart. choso’s hand slide to your hips to give your movement, “you’re taking us so well…” he whispers.

gojo's in front of you again, stroking his cock lazily. "look at her," he laughs. "fucked so dumb she doesn't even know what hole is getting filled."he grabs your face, slaps your cheek lightly, and taps his cock against your lips. “open up, baby.” you do, instantly, and he slides it into your mouth. you moan around him as sukuna slams into your ass and choso drives his cock deeper into your dripping cunt from beneath you. drool drips down your chin as he gojo feeds his fat cock to you. "good girl," he breathes, both hands holding your head steady as he starts to fuck your throat. "that's it. choke on it."

your body jolts with every thrust, stuffed to the brim, brain melted into nothing but desperate moans and the sound of skin slapping against skin. you're just a hole for them now, for everyone, used and filled. behind you, sukuna bites into your shoulder and growls through his teeth. his thrust grown sloppier as he chases his high, you feel both of their cocks throbbing in both of your holes and your body jerks from the force of it. choso’s breath is hit against your chest, his moans muffled by your bouncing tits. the bench creaks under all of you. their bodies slapping into yours. then, they both cum at once, sukuna spilling into your ass, choso filling your pussy to the brim. as sukuna buries himself to the hilt in your ass and groans through his orgasm, choso bucks one last time into your soaked pussy and spills everything he has inside you. your body sags, twitching under the weight of it all-cum leaking from both holes, drool sliding from your lips.

you moan around gojo's cock as the hot rush of it floods you, leaking down your thighs instantly. a creamy mess of white oozes out from both your holes, slicking your thighs and pooling on the bench beneath you.

"fuck," sukuna hisses. "you're ruined."

"nah," choso murmurs, feeling his own cum start to force his cock to slip out of your pussy. "she's perfect."

"our perfect little cumdump," he breathes, reaching down to rub your clit with slow, lazy circles. "still twitching."

"and she's gonna take more," gojo growls, snapping his hips hard. "hold still." he groans as he slips is cock from your mouth, slapping it on your puffy lips before sukuna pulls out of your asshole, choso lifts your hips up as his own cum forces his cock to slip out.

you barely register the shift, feel strong arms hook under your knees, yanking you upright with shocking ease. your legs are bent, spread wide, and your arms are suddenly pinned up over your head, trapped behind gojo's neck as he locks you in place.

gojo groans, still fucking your cunt . he pulls out just long enough for geto to kneel between your legs, licking at your clit while gojo pushes into your pussy, still wet and dripping with choso's cum.

"full nelson, baby," gojo breathes against your ear, lips curling. "you ever been fucked like this?" his cock grinds between your slick folds, nudging your overstimulated clit. you can't respond, your voice is caught in your throat. your body bounces in his hold, tits jiggling, cunt clenching around him, already soaking wet and leaking down his shaft. he fucks up into you mercilessly, using you like a fleshlight while you whimper and twitch. "nah, didn't think so. let me show you how it feels to be completely helpless."

you can't even speak, then he trusts up into you, hard. your whole body jolts in his grip, helpless and suspended, your cunt stretched again and again as gojo fucked uo into you mercilessly. your tits brunch, spit and tears streak your face and your pussy drools around his cock, dripping everything choso left behind. "so full," gojo groans. "tight little hole milking me."

geto crouches in front of you, watching your ruined face with a hungry smile. "still drooling," he murmurs, before leaning in to suck your clit between his lips, his hand sliding up to cradle gojo's balls, massaging them gently. "fuck, look at her, gojo pants, snapping his lips harder. "can't even talk."

you can't. not when geto's tongue flicks your clit and gojo's cock hits that spot so perfect inside of you. "g-gojo! m' gonna cum..." geto crouches in front of you, watching your face twist with every thrust. "look how fucked out she is," he says, licking his lips. "still drooling." you look down at geto who's already looking up at you, making eye contact as you watch his tongue move so fast on your clit it's almost a pink blur.

he leans in closer, sucking your clit into his mouth with a rough pull that makes your eyes roll back. he doesn't stop there, his hand slides to cup gojo's balls, massaging them while gojo pounds you like he's trying to rearrange your guts. "still so fucking tight," gojo huffs, snapping his hips up hard. "you're gonna milk another load out of me, aren't you? greedy little thing."

your moan rips out of your throat as he lifts you higher, thighs trembling. his cock pushes in slow, stretching you open, making you feel every inch as he sinks into the mess choso left behind. you can't think. geto's tongue on your clit, gojo's cock pounding into your stuffed cunt, your body jerking from overstimulation and pleasure that borders on pain. "she's full," geto groans, tongue circling your clit while his hand reaches up to massage gojo's balls as they slap against your ass. your moans come in helpless little sobs, your body shaking as another orgasm crashes down on you.

"fuck, i'm close," gojo groans. "you feel that? gonna fill you up too, baby. you're gonna be dripping with all of us." gojo grunts as he buries himself deep and cums inside, warmth flooding you all over again, hips stuttering, and geto groans as he sucks at your clit until your whole body convulses. he laps up gojo's cum and your squirt as it leaks down his ballsack. gojo pulls out, putting you down and laying you back on the bench in the old cum.

when he finally lowers you down, your thighs are trembling, your holes leaking and fluttering.

they leave you there for a moment, gasping, twitching.

then toji grabs your chin and lifts your head. "show us."

you blink, dazed. "h-huh?"

"show us your pussy," gojo grins, sweat-slick and panting. "show us how messy you are."

they help you onto your back, spreading your thighs wide. you reach down with trembling hands, spreading your pussy lips apart to show them how absolutely ruined you are. thick, creamy cum leaking from your holes, glistening, sticky and shiny with sweat and spit.

your shaky fingers are still between your legs, holding yourself open, letting them stare at the mess they've made of you-every fold glistening with slick and cum, leaking down your thighs and soaking into the bench.

"don't close 'em," sukuna warns when your legs start to tremble. "keep it spread, slut. you wanted this, remember?"

you nod weakly, your face burning, throat too raw to speak.

"good girl," gojo grins, ruffling your hair like you're some dumb little pet. "now show us how much you love it. c'mon—play with that messy little pussy, make it nasty."

your breath hitches, but you obey. fingers dipping into the warmth leaking out of you, smearing it over your clit. your legs jerk instantly, the overstimulation sharp and brutal, but you keep rubbing slow, wet circles, cunt twitching as they all watch.

geto crouches beside you again, brushing a thumb down your cheek. "look at that," he murmurs.

"you're so ruined, and you're still getting off. are you proud of yourself, little cumrag?"

"say it," choso mutters, hand wrapping around his half-hard cock again. "tell us what you are."

"i'm-i'm your c-cumrag," you whimper, eyes filling with tears as you keep touching yourself. "just your-fuck—just your hole. i like it. i wanna be used. i wanna be filled-again—"

"she's close again," gojo says with a laugh. "what a filthy fucking girl."

you cry out, hips jerking as you rub yourself harder, the pressure bubbling too fast-your whole body shaking as another orgasm slams through you, muscles tensing so tight you nearly collapse.

"fuck, you're so cute when you break," sukuna huffs.

you go limp, breath ragged, your fingers still slick with their cum and your own.

then, finally, someone lifts you up.

"alright, you did good," choso says softly. "let's clean you up." he carries you into the showers as the others follow. you barely register it, too dazed to move on your own, but warm water starts to rush down your back. you're in the locker room shower, pressed to gojo's chest as he holds you upright while the others wash you off gently, soap slides over your sore body, rinsing away all the filth, but their touches linger-soft, teasing, affectionate.

"we'll get you dirty again soon," geto promises, brushing your hair back from your face with a kiss to your temple.

[yanchive]

Man, I've been obsessed with the isekai trope lately. I've been imagining a scenario where the reader gets isekai'd into a yandere romance story as a side character. You're not the main character or a love interest. You replaced a nameless character who was solely created in the story to be killed off by the yandere love interests to further the plot.

After realizing that's the role you took on, you devise a plan to re write the story to keep yourself alive.

In the official plot, your death was the cause of getting too close to the main character. Your positive relationship with them was considered a threat to the yanderes, and so they wiped you out of the picture.

So, as any semi intelligent individual would do, you decided to avoid the main character completely.

I'd like to imagine the reader wasn't well informed of this story, didn't know who the yans were, and accidentally befriended them before they even got a chance to develop any feelings for the main character. You jumped into their lives before the events that led into the original storyline. Earning their trust and unfortunately causing some peculiar emotions in them to develop.

This fucks up the whole plot. I mean, that was your plan. You just weren't trying to fuck it up so bad that you unintentionally attracted multiple yans who decided you were the perfect match for them. You were a joy to be around. You were far more intertwined in their lives than the previous main character ever was. It was generic with them and their story. A boring, "yan see's their darling from afar for the first time and falls in love on sight." Type plot.

But with you, it was so much more personal. They grew to love you for way more than just your looks. They got to know you as a person before any sort of feelings of devotion could form.

This made their efforts to claim you so much worse than they ever were in the original plot. They were much more sinister and brutal. They usually only did massive amounts of stalking, blackmail, and the occasional murder when it came to the canon story, whereas they went all out for you.

Kidnap, murder, torture, blackmail, stalking, theft, harassment, etc. Everyone around you was a threat in their eyes. Everyone around you didn't deserve you.

By the time you realized what you've done, what you've created, its far too late to fix your mistake. You attempted to break off the friendships, avoiding them at all costs, closing yourself off and spending your time trying to find a way back to your original world.

But they don't take kindly to that. Not after everything you guys have been through. Before you could find the key back home to your world, you'd be whisked away, having your new world be the confines of your yans humble abode, away from society.

Bonus option: You attempt to bring the original main character back into the plot in hopes they could redirect the yandere back into chasing them and get them off your back. But why would they need this stranger? They don't know them like they know you. And they could care less to even try to get to know them. So, the original main character ends up taking on the role you were supposed to be. The side character who was meant to die to further the plot.

You're the main character now.

[faeyun]

ˋ 🗯️ ⨾ I’M YOUR SECRETARY

𝖎𝗻 𝖜𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𓈓 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗶𝗻 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗹.

❛ 박성훈 𝑥 𝑓!reader ❜ ╱ 𝖒. list 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉, 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗎, 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍, 𝗅𝖺𝗐𝗒𝖾𝗋!𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇, 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗒!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ✴︎ 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘰𝘮!𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 / 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 (𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘭𝘶𝘵, 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰𝘺), 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳’𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘭𝘮𝘢𝘰 𓈒𓈒 16OO

( 𝖓 )。 this is directly inspired by the secretary (2002) movie because i am still not over it lmaoo.. hehe thank you my lilypad, @prkhaven, for sending this thought eeeee!!! clearly by the word count i got a little carried away with it… and a special little tag for my love @bambiihee because i can freak out with her about the movie and young james spader now (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)♡

You had to try and hide how giddy you were for this moment—how your body tingled with excitement and how no matter how hard you tried, your hands wouldn’t lay perfectly flat on the mahogany desk.

It took everything in you to look forward, your bottom lip between your teeth and just begging to draw blood. You could feel him behind you, the heat sweltering between your two bodies, and how he faintly trailed his hand along your hip. The excitement that coursed through you was so great that you didn’t even think to hold your breath and wait for it.

“How long has it been now?” Sunghoon asked you, his voice almost monotone, but you could still hear the anger swirling underneath it.

“Weeks, sir,” you replied.

“Weeks,” Sunghoon repeated, “and I’m still finding all these typos on my documents. Do you not understand how this makes me look? Do you expect me to send documents with red circles all over them?”

The typos were on purpose, but you wouldn’t tell Sunghoon that. It was the only way you could get the two of you to this moment—you bent over ninety degrees on his desk while your nose practically touched the paper and him standing behind you, a hand itching to raise in the air. You awaited the spanking—you were desperate for it. So much so that you had to stop yourself from wiggling your ass back towards him.

“No, si—” Smack.

You lurched forward, a half-gasp and half-moan spilling from your already parted lips. The corners of your mouth raised. Inhaling deeply, you repeated yourself. “No, I'm sorry. I’ll do—”

Smack.

Lurching forward again, the sound that escaped you was definitely a moan this time. Your head fell towards the desk as you tried to catch your breath. Sunghoon ran his hand along the fabric of your skirt, fondling your ass right before stopping right where you would be soaking through if it hadn’t been for the layers you were wearing. You bit your lip to try and muffle the groan.

“I’ll do better,” you said, your voice wispy. Sunghoon’s cupped your ass again, before you felt his hand leave and the sound of it hitting fabric reverberated through the quiet office.

Another moan escaped you and you had to lean more on the desk to hold yourself up. Still, you didn’t dare to look back at him and break the unspoken rules that he had placed for you; but you so desperately wanted to. Your knees felt weak and the heels you were wearing didn’t make stabilization any easier for you. You were grateful for the momentary pause that let you both seemingly catch your breath.

“Lift up your skirt,” Sunghoon cuts through the thickness in the air. You pause, unsure if you heard him correctly, and you look back at him.

He sports the same blank face, but you can see how he unravels at the edges around it. You notice the wrinkles in his suit and the way his tie is skewed to the side. His dark hair is in his darker eyes as he stands back and waits for you to obey his command. It almost looks as if he let the words slip from his mouth and it’s too late now to take them back. Like he inadvertently exposed his deepest desire to you by accident. “W-What?” you ask in a small voice, nervous that it’s all in your head, that the excitement has carried you away.

Sunghoon repeats himself, only this time, he adds to what he said. “Lift up your skirt and pull down your stockings and panties.” 

You open your mouth again to ask if that’s what he really meant, but he speaks again before you can. “I’m not gonna fuck you,” he says.

A little disappointed, you inhale sharply at his words. “At least, not in the way you want—though I should after your behavior. You can’t even take a simple punishment without moaning like a damn whore.”

Sunghoon looks you up and down, but you can’t quite read his gaze. He’s too stonefaced. You hesitate, but you face forward again and lift your arms from the table to reach behind you. Slowly, you pull up your long skirt with shaky fingers, and after you pull down your stockings and panties until you’re completely exposed for his eyes to see.

You hear him inhale, but you don’t turn around again. The tips of his fingers trail along the skin he just repeatedly smacked, and the burning you feel there intensifies. A small whimper emits from you that you quickly try to swallow, but Sunghoon’s fingers pause anyway.

This time you feel the wind from his hand before you hear the echo of his palm slapping your ass. Unashamed now, you let your loud moan out freely. Smaller ones follow as you readjust yourself, ready for his next action. The thought that Sunghoon could see how soaked through your panties and stockings were didn’t even cross your mind until it was too late, but your back arched from the thought nonetheless.

Sunghoon’s hand caresses along the bruising skin, and his thumb gently rubs circles into the flesh. Then, his hand moves down, further and further. “Your behavior has been unacceptable. You know I value professionalism above all else, and you are a direct reflection of everything my firm stands for when they walk through that front door. Yet, you parade around, playing with your hair and cutting squares out of your skirts.”

His other hand yanks your skirt further up your back as if it was a nuisance and in his way. At the same time, his fingers delve into your wetness, at the arousal sliding down your inner thighs and coating your waiting pussy. You gasp.

“Are you trying to spite me? Do you want me to treat you like the fuck toy you’re acting like? Because I have no problem doing so.” Sunghoon’s fingers plunge into your entrance and another loud moan is ripped from you, your body lurching forward again as you immediately clench around his slender fingers. His fingers move without hesitation and curl inside of you each time they can’t be pushed in any farther.

Your mouth hangs open and your airy moans fall freely throughout the room. Sunghoon leans down so his face is hovering near yours, and you turn your head ever so slightly to the side so you can see him. His hand doesn’t stop, and neither does the sound from your lips. You can feel the boner through his pants as he leans against you more so you’re almost eye to eye.

Just the sight of his stare through his pretty lashes almost makes you cum. His hand slams down onto the table next to yours and you take the risk to put your pinky over one of his fingers. Sunghoon holds onto that action like it’s his lifeline. In a low voice he says, “I respect you as an employee too much to treat you like a slut. But—just for this moment—I’ll lower my standards for you, slut.”

His fingers move faster, and you feel like all the build-up to this moment was a mistake that you were now feeling the consequences of. You were seconds from breaking completely—and Sunghoon was front row center for the show. Mewling, you bit down hard on your bottom lip and tears welled in your eyes, but you refused to look away from his stare.

You refused to turn away from how heavy his eyes got at each and every single one of your moans. Like he wanted to close his eyes and enjoy the sound, but wanted to witness the face you made as well. Or how his mouth was open and his jaw slack. You especially didn’t want to miss the quiet moans he occasionally voiced, the sound too busy being drowned out by the sounds that you made.

It was all so glorious that your body took over and made the decision for you. Your eyes rolled back as your body went limp. Sunghoon cursed under his breath at the way your pussy held him in a vice grip and refused to let go as you broke around him, covering his hand in a pearly white.

The two of you stood there for a moment, clinging to each other as you struggled to let the oxygen reach your starved lungs. You leaned your head against his, and Sunghoon nuzzled into you before ripping himself away completely.

He pulled his fingers out from inside you, still glistening with your arousal and coated in your cum, and stumbled a couple steps back from you. You turned to look at him, and for a brief second the two of you stared at each other.

Sunghoon then rounded the corner of his desk before falling heavily into his chair, his face mere inches from yours. He closed his eyes for a moment.

“A coffee, please,” Sunghoon said thickly. His eyes fluttered open to look directly at you. You hesitantly stood straighter, confusion written all over your face. Sunghoon plucked the papers off his desk with the hand that had just given you so much pleasure that it was currently dripping down your thighs and puddling in your panties right now like it was nothing. “And this time… add more sugar,” he continued.

Awkwardly, you hiked up your panties and stockings and pulled down your skirt. You grabbed the stack of files that you sat on his desk before standing in front of it for another awkward moment.

“Y-Yes, sir,” you stuttered before rushing out of his office. Sunghoon didn’t spare you another glance.

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏   ͏  ͏ ͏ ͏͏ REBLOGS ◜◡◝ FEEDBACK APPRECIATED!

✉️   ⦂   godddd i need young james spader so desperately it’s not even funny anymore… anyway are we fw the hard thoughts layout?

𖥦 ﴾ 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 . . . 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 , 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ﴿ @innocygnet @ghstzzn @heechwe @tinycatharsis @prkhaven @bambiihee @fangel @xylatox @izzyy-stuff @hyukascampfire @sunoosgfv @whosserina @jellymochii @sumsumtingz @riribelle @minaateez @everythingvirgoes @lvrs-street2mmorrow @beomieeeeeeeeeeees

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