#and her lover mason | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

arachine · 1 year ago

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yes, i'm ready (to fall in love)

── ˚₊✩‧₊ genre: smut, fluff, mild angst

── ˚₊✩‧₊ synopsis: after reader is persuaded into putting herself back out there by long time friend, shoko, she successfully ends up scoring a date. unbeknownst to her, though, the gods have different plans—and one of them seems especially interested in her relationship with ex-husband, gojo satoru.

or in other words: a failed date results in a night of passion amongst former lovers.

── ˚₊✩‧₊ contents: 13.5k words, ex-husband!gojo + co-parent!gojo, slight dub-con (alcohol use), dumbification, overstimulation, vaginal penetration, unconventional form of contraception (pull-out method - don’t do this), pussy eating + one oc for the sake of plot

── ˚₊✩‧₊ note: i know this is really long and most people don’t have the attention span for it but PLEASE give it a chance! this is literally the longest piece of fiction i’ve ever written and i’m really proud of it :(

songs to listen to for best reading experience: donny hathaway - i love you more than you’ll ever know barbara mason - i’m ready partynextdoor - showing you bryson tiller - been that way

After you divorced your ex-husband, and decided to devote all of your time to being a mother, you never really considered getting back into the dating world. Not that you didn’t eventually want to settle down with someone new, but the dating world now was just so–different.

Different in the sense that meeting people organically was becoming increasingly difficult. It wasn’t like how it used to be in high school or college, and it really didn’t take that much effort then to get a man’s number by the end of your outing.

When you were in your early twenties, a brush of your hand on a man’s arm would’ve worked. An ‘accidental’ bump into someone at a grocery store or cafe might’ve ended in a quick lay. Using these tactics today, though, might earn you some weird looks–have–earned you some weird looks.

You’re on call with a friend from college when you begin recounting something embarrassing that happened to you recently. At first, the conversation started out about all of the professors you would’ve slept with (if given the chance), but then, one thing led to another, and she asked you something that made you wince:

“‘How’s your dating life been since, you know, Satoru?’”

There’s a heavy silence from your end, and she almost thinks you hung up.

“I mean, if you want to share,” she splurts, attempting to approach this gently, “I know that after the divorce, I wasn’t there for you like you needed, but I’d like to make up for that–if you’d let me.”

Shoko’s always been like that. Blunt and charismatic, but gentle and zephyr-light in the way she cares for those closest to her. It’s a trait of hers that you admire, because not so many people would care to treat your heart with such fragility.

“No, it’s okay. You can ask, you know, it’s not this secret thing,” you start, sighing before continuing, “it happened, and it was a mutual decision.”

Shoko hums on the other side, “Well, I’m still sorry. I let us go without talking for far too long…”

“Well, I accept your apology, even if it’s unwarranted. Like I said, it was mutual and…there wasn’t really an intense grieving period for me? The only thing that hurt me is that you distanced yourself. I mean, the girls did miss their aunt Shoko…” you say, trying to make her feel bad but not too bad.

“I know, I know, I’m a bad aunt,” she jests, then the tone shifts to something serious. “I think I was just scared because both of you were my best-friends. I didn’t want to ‘pick sides’, but I see now that it was a mutual decision, so I’m assuming you two are on good-terms?”

Again, you pause, “I mean, yeah. Satoru will always be my best friend. We may not be together romantically but he’s such an integral part of my life, I couldn’t do this–all of this–alone.” After you say it, you feel a weight being lifted off of your chest that you didn’t know was even there.

You think nobody would understand if you told them this. You think they’d question how a person could divorce someone who’s supposed to be their best-friend. And with the way you describe it, they’d probably think you were still in love with him. But Shoko’s different, she gets it. Which is why saying it to her came so easily.

“He is a great father,” she chimes in, “but you two rushed into it so quickly, I don’t think either of you had time to discover yourselves after college.”

Although she can’t see it, you smile. Because she gets it. Even if time did place itself in between the two of you, she was there for most of it, when things were still touch-and-go. When things were fresh, and clumsy.

“Exactly, that was our biggest gripe,” you admit, “We didn’t afford ourselves that time to grow, and I think that hindered our relationship. We weren’t husband and wife first, we were parents–and we were young, way too young.”

“You made it, though,” Shoko tries to brighten the mood, “you’re both amazing parents, and I know those beautiful girls that you created are lucky to have you.”

The intimacy of the conversation sends your emotions into overdrive. You quickly realize how much you missed her, how much you yearned to talk to her. To reconnect on this level.

A single tear cascades down your cheek, and you try not to sound like you’re crying when you say, “Ok, enough about that. You wanted to know about my shitty dating life, right?”

It happened last week, the grocery store incident. You were out picking up a few things for dinner when you spotted a cute guy standing outside of the aisle a few rows from you. He was fit beyond measure, in looks and strength, and was wandering around aimlessly in pursuit of red pepper flakes.

Coincidentally, you just happened to be in the seasoning aisle, and like the good samaritan you were, decided to personally hand-deliver it to him.

You wince as you vividly recall the embarrassing ordeal that ensued immediately after.

“Hey,” you peer from behind the aisle, with a bottle of red pepper flakes in tow. “I heard you mumbling about finding this, and you looked pretty lost, so I thought I’d pick ‘em out for you.”

The man’s brows furrow briefly before his lips up-turn into a grateful smile, “Oh, cool, thank you so much!” As quickly as the conversation started, it ends even quicker. He gives you a final nod of endearment before he’s turning around on his heels to resume his shopping.

“God, could he be any more dense? The men today really make you work for it, huh?” you mumble to yourself, pulling the bosom of your blouse down until a good amount of cleavage is on display. “Okay, alright. You got this, you got this. This always used to work, right? Yeah, men love boobs.”

Walking up to the man again, you try a different approach–a bolder approach. “Not to be a bother but I was wondering if I could-”

“Babe? Oh, there you are,” a new voice interjects. The owner of the voice emerges from around the corner and walks up to the man with a cart and a baby in tow. You’re stunned, to say the least. All you can do is stand there and blink in complete and utter dumbfoundment. As you remain in their presence, you take a moment to analyze the woman. She’s gorgeous, and toned. A real model-type broad, with feline-ish features that make so much sense paired with the man who appears to be her partner.

Oh, you think, and apparently say aloud, too. That’s when the woman turns to you, finally acknowledging your much smaller, and much quieter presence.

“Hi, can we help you?” she smiles, and it’s actually genuine. Toothy and perfect, and totally not jealous. You blink once, twice, before gathering your wits to answer her question.

“Yeah, uh, no. I actually, uhm, was helping your h-husband. He was looking for red pepper flakes,” you mutter embarrassedly, and point to the bottle in his hand. Upon further observation, you notice that she isn’t exactly wearing a ring. You find this odd, especially because his not wearing a ring is what encouraged you to pursue him. Carefully, you prod.

“If I may ask, how come neither of you are wearing rings?” The couple gives each other a look, one that makes you feel like the odd man out. A look that is universally known, and without a doubt, could easily be translated to: ‘did this chick really just ask that?’

Still, you smile as you wait for an answer. The woman takes the initiative. “Yeah, we don’t really believe in rings, isn’t that right, babe?” she says so matter-of-factly. You blink again for what seems like the thousandth time, because of all things, you did not expect that to come out of her mouth. Her husband is quick to validate her statement.

“Yeah, we think rings are unnecessary, you know? You don’t need a piece of metal to confirm your feelings,” he says walking to his partner’s side and wrapping an arm around her.

Disgustingly, the two give each other googly eyes before locking lips briefly. You can tell they’re the type to probably share this information with just about any soul who asks. Today, you just happened to be that unfortunate soul.

“Are you married?” she queries, tilting her head against her husband’s chest.

“I was, now we just…co-parent,” you purse your lips, ready for this entire interaction to be over. The woman frowns at your answer, and this time it’s not as genuine.

“Awe, well, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It was actually a mutual decision,” you quip.

“Okay,” she smiles, widening her eyes at her husband to signal a departure, “well, it was nice meeting you, and thank you for the red pepper flakes.”

The family turns away and heads to the front where check-out is. You don’t even buy the items you intended to purchase, just leave your cart in the middle of whatever aisle you abandoned it and leave the store.

“Oh, baby, you didn’t?” Shoko asks in horror. You nod your head, still forgetting she can’t see you and the way you’re sliding down against the wall.

“I did, and I shan't ever again,” a laugh erupts from your throat.

“I mean, fuck, are we getting old? ‘Don’t believe in rings,’” she mumbles, “Don’t believe in rings, my ass! Is this what the youth are doing these days? Not proposing with rings?”

Now that you think about it, you wonder how that would even work. “Yeah, right? I mean, how does that even work? ‘Will you marry me? But, actually, you should know I don’t have a ring for you, so people will have to guess that we’re together purely based on vibes and energy,’” you mock, in a not-so-great man voice.

Shoko’s laughing so hard by the end of your bit that she breaks the sound barrier, and the sound that makes on the phone sends you into your own fit of laughter. You laugh so hard it seems like a stream of pee comes out. Curse your developed incontinence after motherhood.

“God, you’re so stupid, I can’t breathe,” she says exasperatedly, and you know that on the other side she’s probably keeling over in her bed.

“Oh, please. I bet you haven’t laughed this hard in a long time, bitch.”

“I haven’t,” she cackles. This back-and-forth continues until the two of you settle down enough to continue discussing your (pee-inducing) love life.

“You tried any dating apps?”

It’s a simple and valid question, but it only makes you laugh even harder. You only stop when the other side of the line goes quiet. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. It’s what everyone’s doing these days! You’re not that old, you know.”

“Shut up,” you kid, “ it’s just that I never considered it. I mean, dating apps feel so impersonal. How serious do people even take it?”

“Sure, there’s people who use it for casual hook-ups and stuff, but a lot of people do come out of it with a relationship. Just don’t knock it ‘till you try it.”

“Oh?” you muse, curious. You wish Shoko could see your face, and the weird little dance your brows were doing. “Shoko, have you used a dating app before?”

The brunette kisses her teeth. “Can’t get anything past you.”

“Never.”

There’s a sense of hesitance but you encourage her to elaborate because ‘she became estranged from you for almost a decade and needed to pay her dues’. Sighing defeatedly, she eventually acquiesces.

“Fine, fine, maybe I’ve…been on a few dates,” she starts, “–and had a few one night stands, maybe more than a few, and maybe even dated a guy that turned into my stalker–”

“Ieiri Shoko! You naughty, naughty girl! Wait, stalker?”

“To make a long story short, I got a restraining order on that creep. Anyway,” she segues, attempting to change the subject, “We should make you a profile!”

For the rest of your phone call, Shoko guides you through all of the dating app basics. She offers her expert advice as you scroll through your camera roll for potential photos to use. You go through about a hundred before you finally settle on five that she really likes.

The one that she tells you to put first is a photo of you in a bikini. It’s a few years old but she says you look ‘radiant’ and that your ‘tits were practically spilling out of the cups’. Plus, for further consolation, she says most people on dating apps are liars.

“Everyone’s got at least one old photo on their profile, doesn’t make you a catfish,” she quips, “just means you’re a nostalgic person!”

“Right…”

The next one is a selfie. You’re smiling big in it, showing your gums, and it’s genuine. Shoko says guys like those types of photos because it shows them that you’re approachable. It also won her over because it’s fairly recent, too.

Out of all your photos, there’s only a select few that were taken within the year. You had to admit to her that you never really took photos of yourself anymore. Satoru took most of your candids. Still, she had a mission. And she wasn’t going to be satisfied until she stuck around to see your first match.

“After the selfie you should put the one of you with the girls.”

The picture she’s referring to is one Satoru also took. You remember that day fondly, and even now, the memories feel like a warm embrace.

about 8 years ago . . .

“Dad, mom, look! Hurry!” Hana, your oldest, shouts. Satoru and you are sitting on a blanket up on the sand dunes with Haruki, who’s trying her best to make a sand castle–to no avail.

“What is it, hon?” Satoru and you rush over to her, snatching toddler Haruki in the same breath. When you get to the scene, a flood of warmth washes over you upon discovering the ‘threat’.

“See, it’s baby turtles!” Hana’s squatting in the sand, watching with pure and unfettered fascination as the hatchlings crawl north to the ocean. When she looks up at you, with eyes so bright, and a smile so big that’s missing two of her front teeth, you want to cry.

“Oh, hon, that’s beautiful,” you gasp, lowering to your haunches so that you can join her. Satoru is about to follow suit before deciding at the last minute to go back to the blanket. When he returns, he snaps a picture unbeknownst to you. Eventually, though, you turn your gaze to him and he captures–what he used to think then–the ‘prettiest’ photo of you.

“You sneaking photos of me?” you squint, pointing at him. He trods closer until he’s standing above you. Then he snaps another. Your head’s tilted up, and you’ve got one eye open, and the other closed because of the sun. He always liked when you squinted like that because it made your nose do this cute little scrunch.

“Yup, ‘cause you’re my muse.”

You’re pulled out of your daydream when Shoko says your name on the other line.

“You still there?”

“Yeah, it’s just…”

“Just what?” she queries, waiting for a response.

“I wanna use it, but my ex-husband took it. It feels weird, you know? And do I want to use a photo of me with the girls?”

“Hon, who cares if Satoru took the photo? It’s still a good photo, and to answer your second question, why wouldn’t you include a picture with your girls?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’m just afraid no one will be interested. Nothing about a picture of a mom with her two daughters exactly screams ‘fuck me’.”

Shoko lets out a small chuckle but you’re being serious. “Oh, sweetie. You’re so cute. Milfs are in these days, I don’t think I’m the one getting old, I think it’s just you!”

“Ha-ha, laugh at the mom,” you feign annoyance, but give her a laugh in return.

“But seriously, please use that photo. Nobody’s going to skip you just because you’re a mom. A lot of men on there have kids of their own, just gotta tweak your settings,” Shoko reassures you.

By the end of your call, the profile is set. You thank your old friend for the previous heart-to-heart conversation, and the time she spent helping you set up your profile.

“Keep me updated, and don’t talk about mom stuff, okay? Now, I’m not saying you can’t talk about them,” she begins, “but show these guys your personality! I know she’s in the closet somewhere hiding next to our old slutty clubbing clothes.”

Then, the both of you say your goodbyes and she wishes you a good-luck on your newly established dating journey. As you lay in your bed, you give your profile a final onceover. Not too bad, you think to yourself.

You ended up using all of the photos she had originally picked out for you. Even the beach photo. To compensate for your old photos, though, Shoko made sure that your prompts were witty and full of personality.

“I’d match me, I think. No, yeah, these are funny. She did a good job.”

The following day, you open your phone to fifty notifications from the dating app. A tingle of excitement shoots through your body from the tip of your toes, to the top of your head. It takes all of your might not to squeal in the office.

“Holy fuck,” you whisper at your desk. The amount of notifications that you initially saw on your homescreen read ‘50’ but when you opened the app, it showed you an overwhelming ‘100’ with a fat plus sign next to it. “Wait, are these all the people who liked me? Shoko’s gonna flip.”

Getting up from your chair, you make a beeline to the nearest bathroom. Not that you have to use it, but so you can scroll through all the potential prospects without your boss seeing you on your phone.

Pulling open the door to the bathroom, you close it shut behind you and lock it. A few minutes pass in the time you’re able to get through about half of the people who liked you. You end up skipping a lot of them. They’re either too young, too self-absorbed, creepy, or just downright not your type.

Some stick out, though. Even trick you into thinking they’re potential matches, but then the other shoe drops–because there’s always another shoe. You’ll scroll through their profiles, and they’ll seemingly have all the perfect traits: intelligent, witty, handsome, tall–and then, boom. You see their ‘don’t want kids’ preference. Every failed match only discourages you more and more.

It’s weird, because your profile preferences are set to ‘have kids’ and you even have a photo pictured with your girls. So why are men liking your profile despite that? After a few more scrolls, you’re just about ready to head back to your desk but then–you have a hit.

Your finger hovers over the ‘x’ at the bottom of the screen, then retracts. The guy’s profile at first impression is miles better than the rest, it’s almost too good to be true. His first photo is what piqued your interest. It’s of him posing for a silly photo with his sons, and he’s got his arms draped around their shoulders.

As you scroll down his profile, you see that there’s even more of him with his children. You take this as a green flag. He wants people to know he has kids, and that he isn’t embarrassed to show them off. You admire him for it.

The last few remaining photos are an amalgamation of selfies and full-body photos. To the average, well-adjusted adult, looks wouldn’t be a deal breaker. But he definitely wasn’t too bad on the eyes, and you were not complaining about that–especially, after the odd men you had to scroll through to get here. In other words, he was gorgeous and still fit despite being older than you (him, respectively being in his early forties).

Checking the time on your phone, you realize that you’re pushing your little ‘bathroom break’. Before heading back to your desk, you decide to respond to his first photo.

You: Cute! Could never get my girls to stand so still for a photo like this now haha :)

Work goes by slower than you’d like, but finishes up just in time when you get a notification from the dating app. You’re a little more excited than you’d care to admit. Tidying up your workspace, you say your goodbyes to your colleagues and head to the elevator. Absent-mindedly, you rush to answer his message but realize it won’t go through because of the elevator’s poor service.

Kazuki: Oh, they’re moody and grown now, don’t be fooled. I can't remember the last time I saw my youngest smile.

You don’t answer his reply until you get home. Actually, you do just about everything but answer his reply: check on the girls, shower, prepare dinner, pour a glass of wine–you’re nervous, and you don’t know why. But you know you should probably answer soon before he becomes disinterested. So you get comfortable in bed with your glass of wine and pull open his chat.

You: Lol, know that all too well. Kids are little assholes, aren’t they?

The speed in which he reads your text is startling, you don’t even have enough time to close out of the chat. Then, he responds.

Kazuki: Hell yeah they are!

Kazuki: Sometimes I want to strangle my youngest. He’s at that age where he’s starting to rebel and question everything. I told him he was supposed to be the ‘easy’ one, but his knucklehead brothers are bad influences on him…Tell me, does it ever get easier?

You: Sounds a lot like my oldest. She used to cling to me like a koala but now she’s the ring leader, and I’m the enemy. My youngest still loves her mama, though (for now lol).

You: And to answer your question, I’d like to think so?

You take a second before continuing your response. Shoko told you to keep the mom talk limited, but this seems to be working for you so far, and he’s genuinely interested in what you have to say. So for once, you’re going to ignore her advice.

You: Kids go through phases. It's our job to reassure them that we’re not going anywhere. No matter how much they push us away or try to, that is :)

Kazuki’s chat bubbles pop up, then disappear. You think he’s deciding on what to say.

Kazuki: I can tell we’re gonna get along great. It’s nice opening up like this, you know? Talking to another parent. If I'm being honest, dating apps have always intimidated me…

Kazuki: People see kids as ‘baggage’, and it really bothers me. My kids aren’t baggage. They’re the best parts of me. And if someone doesn’t see that, then we have no business getting to know each other.

Kazuki: Sorry for getting all sappy. Just felt like I needed to say it.

His apology makes you frown. It feels like a breath of fresh air to hear someone talk about their kids so lovingly, because you feel the exact same way. You’re glad you downloaded the app, and you make a mental note to thank Shoko again later (after you debrief her about this).

You: Never apologize for speaking about your kids! And if we’re being absolutely transparent, that was my biggest gripe with downloading this app, too.

You: I’m so glad we matched each other. I’d like to get to know you more. And I’m hoping the feeling’s mutual?

Kazuki: It’s more than mutual.

Kazuki: Don’t want to get ahead of myself but how do you feel about dinner? There’s a cool high-scale restaurant in the city that I haven’t been to yet. Heard it’s got two Michelin stars despite opening up not too long ago.

The prospect of going on a sit-down dinner date has your stomach in knots. It’s been a hot minute since the last time you’ve done so, but you’re eager to know the man behind the screen on a more personal level. Plus, being treated to a high-scale restaurant with two Michelin stars doesn’t seem too bad either. You’re never one to turn down free dinner.

You: I’d love to, but how soon we talkin’? Gotta see if it’ll align with my schedule.

Kazuki: How’s this Friday at 8 sound? :)

The days leading up to Friday breeze by in a blur. For the majority of the week, it feels like you’re walking on cloud nine. Eventually, the conversation transitions from the dating app to exchanging phone numbers, and since then, the two of you have been texting back-and-forth everyday.

You talk about mundane things. Work, shows, movies, books you’ve recently read, what your kids are up to–but the other things? The other messages are flirty, and sexy, and filled with so much tension that it could cut a rope in half.

In between messages, the two of you have also exchanged a few photos. Nothing risqué or anything of that nature, just random photos of you throughout the day. The last one he sent was a few hours ago of him at work, captioned with: ‘Could this meeting be any longer?’.

You reply to the message with the ‘ha ha’ reaction, in consideration of not wanting to get him in trouble at work (even if he was the one who initiated the conversation). As the days go by, though, you make it a habit to update Shoko every step of the way.

Her first reaction to hearing about him was enthusiastic. That is, until you showed her screenshots from his profile. You vaguely remember her saying something that was meant as a compliment, but came out more like an insult.

“‘Oh, he’s a dad!” was her initial response, “oh, he’s a dad…and he really loves his kids. You’re meant for each other.’”

When you tried to ask her what she meant by that, she changed the subject. Every update since then has earned slightly more positive reactions, though.

Today, you ask her for more advice. Only this time, you’re on video call.

“Shokoooo,” you drawl, “our date is tomorrow! You have to help me find something to wear.” The panic in your voice is so palpable, she can almost feel your shaky hands through the screen. Flipping the camera, you hurriedly pan your phone around the closet.

“Breathe, girl, breathe,” she demonstrates first, before telling you to repeat the same motions. “Take me to that section over there–no, not that one–wait, yep, there.” You amble over to the area she’s directing you to through the phone.

“What’s that black little number right there?” She points. You prop the phone up on a shelf and scour through the section, tugging out a dress you haven’t seen in ages (which has you questioning how she even spotted it because it was pretty far back into the closet). Walking back into frame, you hold the fabric up to your body.

Shoko nods in approval, “That’s the one, babe. Try it on!”

It’d been about a decade since the last time you wore this dress. It’d also been about a decade since you were ever this small. Looking in the mirror, you run your hands over every surface inch, every crevice of the dress, in a newfound sense of appreciation for the adult weight you’ve gained since becoming a mother.

The dress was always stunning but it hugged everything perfectly even more so now. When you walk back into frame, your friend gives you a look of pure adoration. She’s so enthralled that she snaps a few screenshots for keepsaking.

“Thank god it’s Satoru’s turn to get the kids tonight,” she says, “‘cause you’re definitely getting some tonight.”

You roll your eyes, reminding her she’s on speaker phone. “Oh, please. It’s just dinner!”

“Not in that dress,” she retorts, wagging her finger in the camera. While the two of you continue to chat about the details of tonight, a knock on your bedroom door draws your attention.

“Mom, can I come in?” the voice sounds. It’s Haruki.

“Come in, hon!”

After you give the ok, you turn to Shoko and mouth to her to behave. Haruki turns the knob and enters, closing the door behind her. She sees you standing in front of the mirror before you see her, and silently utters a ‘wow’. You’re just about done putting your earrings in when you join her in the other room.

“What do you think, bun? Does your mom look hot?” you spin around, smoothing your hands down the length of the dress. You wait in anticipation for her approval, because if anyone could tell it like it is, it was always going to be a kid. Your Haruki was no exception.

“You look really pretty, Mom. I’m glad you’re going out tonight, I mean, you don’t really have friends so I think this will be good for you,” she elaborates, though you wish she would’ve stopped at the compliment.

Still, it puts a smile on your face to hear her verbalize that she’s okay with you doing something for yourself. You never quite discussed the prospect of getting back out there with your kids–and not even intentionally. It just never felt like the right time.

“You could’ve stopped at the compliment, punk!” you grab her, then wrap her in your arms, “but thank you. Love you, bun.”

“Love you more, mama.” Neither of you make the effort to pull away. Instead, you both stand there. Hugging, breathing, embracing each other’s warmth. You don’t always get hugs this good, so when you do, you savor it. Drag it out until your arms and legs get all tingly.

Or until someone interrupts. Another knock on the door. This time it’s Hana.

“Ew, what’s going on?” Hana feigns a look of disgust. You know she’s just jealous; she’ll never admit it, though. Which is why sometimes you have to force her to participate.

“Get over here,” you scrunch your nose, forcefully pulling her into your tight embrace. She tries to protest but eventually accepts defeat. You squeeze them both until they whine that they can’t breathe anymore. Then you squeeze them some more because this one’s for you.

“My special girls,” you breathe in, taking in all of their love. Soaking it all up so that tonight you have the courage to try again. To allow yourself a love of your own. When you let go, there’s a sniffle from the closet. It totally dawned on you that Shoko was still on the phone.

“They’re so big now, they don’t even know their auntie,” she fakes a sob, blowing her nose into a tissue.

“Mom, who’s on the phone?” Haruki queries with a confused expression etched onto her face. It suddenly dawns on you again that although you’ve been communicating with Shoko again, you haven’t exactly told them.

“Hey, you came in here to tell me something right, Han?” Your attempt to change the subject is poorly done, which doesn’t come as a surprise to you considering deflection has never quite been an ability you excelled at. Nonetheless, the look of suspicion they give you after is fleeting before they explain to you in unison that their father is here.

“Your father’s been waiting down there this whole time and nobody cared to tell me?” you whisper-yell, left eye twitching to emphasize your ill-preparedness. The girls only shrug their shoulders in response, like this was something you were just supposed to know.

“Well, you did force us into a hug and make us do all that Kumbaya stuff,” Hana mumbles under her breath.

“Okay, enough about all that. Are you guys all packed? Where are your bags? I don’t want your dad seeing–”

“You don’t want dad to see your date, right?” Hana raises a brow, all knowing. Sometimes she was a little too smart for her own good. You want to blame that on the private schools Satoru had them enrolled in, but really you just know she’s just a menace in her own right. She learned that from him.

“I agree with the kid,” a voice chimes in. You rush to the closet and grab your phone from the shelf. There’s a huge, shit-eating grin on Shoko’s face. Somehow she’s responsible for this. You don’t know how yet, nor do you have proof, but you know it.

“Okay, thank you, love you, bye!” Before you can hang up, Shoko blurts something.

“Tell him I said hi,” she begins, “–andnottogetahardonwhenheseesyou!”

You hang up the call and roll your eyes, chuckling to yourself because of her idiocy. When you enter the corridor, you hear a faint sound of hushed voices from downstairs. It’s only when you round the bannister at the top, when those voices become discernible and louder.

You stop at the top, and when your eyes meet his, it feels like all the air in your lungs have expelled. Suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of what you’re wearing, and the fabric, and the way it clings to your body. Neither he, nor you, look away–you should, you want to, but you don’t.

And in the time the two of you gaze upon the other, time stops for a modicum of a second. In this second, you and him are the last two souls in the world. At least, that’s how it feels anyway before he breaks eye contact.

You shift your gaze shortly after, and put on a trained smile. Those eyes of his were always so intense. You guess you forgot over the years how easy it was to lose yourself in the crystalline pools of them. Gathering your wits, you resume your movements and saunter down the imperial staircase.

“Hey, didn’t mean to keep you waiting. Sort of lost track of time, but I think the girls are all packed,” you say, your voice coming to a decrescendo upon noticing the way his eyes trail over your frame. They’re unreadable, though. Indifferent, and honestly, you’re not sure how to feel. So, you begin fidgeting uncomfortably with the rings around your finger.

Then, he smiles. It’s eerie and fake. “Not a problem, I haven’t been here too long. But, uh,” he begins ambling around the place, touching random objects around the living room, “Didn’t know you had plans. What’s the occasion? Going out for drinks with your colleagues?”

You furrow your brows, confused with his sudden interests in your plans. It wasn’t really like him to prod. “No, actually,” you rock back-and-forth on the balls of your heels, “i’m…i’m going on a date,” you finish with a pursed smile. He only nods his head in response, still walking around the place touching stuff, messing with the picture frames on the mantle. They’re all crooked now.

“How come this is the only picture you have up of me,” he asks suddenly. You know, that he knows, the answer to that. And he knows, that you know, you’ll indulge in his games anyway.

“The girls wanted them in their rooms. Why do you ask? You want me to go grab them and put ‘em all up around the house?” Again, he doesn’t say anything. Just gives you a final once over before heading back to the foyer to ask if the girls are all set to go.

“Yeah, but I can’t find my tablet, dad. Can I go look for it?” Haruki speaks up. “I thought I packed it.”

Satoru looks at the time on his watch, pinches the crease in between his brows. “Sure, kiddo. Can we make it quick, please?” He throws his hand in the air for emphasis, then points to his watch. Haruki nods, then runs up the stairs.

“Actually, you go on up too and help your sister. You guys are holding up dad,” you turn to Hana and gesture for her to head up with your head. She rolls her eyes, yelling up the stairs for her younger sister to ‘freaking hurry up’.

You and Satoru both turn to each other with wide eyes, laughing at the nerve of those children.

“They get that attitude from you, you know,” you point to him, driving your index finger into his bicep.

“You sure? Their mom’s got a pretty bad mouth on her, too. Or, have you forgotten?” He teases, bending his knees slightly to level his eyes with yours, intruding into your space. The smirk he dons is cheeky, too friendly–too inviting. You want to smack it off of him.

“Oh, shut u–” the sound of your phone chiming interrupts your banter. It’s a message from Kazuki, and you open it while Satoru stands over you. Probably close enough to read the message on his own if he wanted.

Kazuki: Hey, I hate to do this but I don’t think I can go through with tonight.

When you read the message, your heart drops into your stomach. There goes the other shoe, you think, fully embracing your pessimism. Who were you kidding, really? To think that tonight you’d go out and have a good time. Do something for yourself. It was stupidity.

Chat bubbles pop up on the screen. He has more to say.

He has more to say, and you’re fighting the urge to cry–to not shake out of sheer frustration while you’re still standing in front of Satoru. Because nothing would be worse than him seeing you can’t even land a date.

Kazuki: I recently just went through a divorce, and I know that I should have informed you about this before continuing our conversations…Especially since you’ve been so transparent with me about your own divorce and strife.

Kazuki: But if I’m being completely honest, I was scared. I genuinely wanted to see this through, at first. I wanted to forget about my ex-wife for just one night. But I realized I’ve been asking the impossible of myself…I’m still in love with her, and it’s because I’m in love with her that I won’t allow myself to lead you on any further.

Kazuki: I think we would’ve had a good time tonight. It's unfortunate we had to meet under such circumstances because you’re a really lovely woman, and I’m sorry an asshole is standing you up right now.

Kazuki: Take care. I know there’s a guy out there just waiting for his shot.

Satoru takes notice of the way your face drops as you read over the messages. Part of him wants to overstep his boundaries and take a peek at the screen. But he doesn’t. He gives you your space and takes a seat on the couch, waits for you to say something first.

In the meantime, he studies your face. Watches intently as your eyes become glossy the more you scan the messages, watches as your bottom lip catches between your teeth to hold back from crying. He thinks he knows what just happened.

Taking a deep breath, you lock your phone and put on another trained smile, “Well, looks like I’m staying in tonight.” Satoru dislikes when you do that. When you put on a fake smile and overcompensate to make others around you feel better, even when it’s so very obvious you aren’t. He wishes that sometimes you would just be selfish–act out.

And then you continue the façade. It makes his skin itch.

“I was too tired anyway, guess I can just catch up o–”

“Will you stop,” he spits, rising from his seat on the couch to stand. It comes out harsher than he intended, but he doesn’t regret it. You look at him like he’s got two heads as he walks over to the mantle and leans against it. His back is turned towards you, and the palms of his hands hold the crest of it. He uses it as leverage to rock on the heels of his feet. You can tell there’s something he wants to say because of the way his jaw ticks.

Satoru is never one to bite his tongue, so you’re not exactly sure why he’s choosing to be so restrained. If he wasn’t going to spit it out, you were going to poke. “What’s your problem?”

He chuckles at this, rubs his chin then pushes off the mantle to stand in front of you, gets all in your space again. The movement almost sends you back but you hold your ground, tilt your chin up at him and repeat the question. Slowly, this time with more venom.

“My problem? What’s your problem?” He breathes through his nose, his eyes flickering back-and-forth between your own. “Why do you always pretend like you’re not lonely? It’s okay if you were looking forward to having fun tonight. It’s okay to be upset and be mad at the asshole who stood you up!”

With every verbal prod at you, the gap between you decreases. His feet inch closer and closer to your own and force you to retreat farther until your back hits the wall. The coldness of it causes your breath to hitch, and you try to stay calm as Satoru encroaches more into your personal space. Being on the receiving end of his passion was always suffocating, you feel exposed under the intensity of his gaze–even more so as he continues to tear into you.

“Why do you even care?!” you cut him off, eyes wide and veins pumping full of adrenaline. “It’s not your place to be so invested in my life anymore! We’re not together, you don’t have to get so hot and bothered about things going shitty for me. I’m a big girl, and I’m perfectly capable of fighting my own battles.”

By the time you finish, you’re a heaving, shaking mess. He takes this as a sign to withdraw from your space, and goes to sit back down on the couch. When you finally settle your nerves, you join him, leaving a foot of space in between you. There’s an awkward silence, one that wouldn’t have even happened if he just respected your boundaries in the first place. Now he feels like the asshole instead of the actual asshole who dumped you. Taking a hesitant breath, he decides to speak up.

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t…It wasn’t my intention to come off so strong like that,” he begins, “I just wanted to let you know that you don’t always have to pretend to be fine. It’s not fair, you shouldn’t do that to yourself.” His eyes wander over to you reluctantly, like he’s scared that if he looks too long you’ll disengage from the conversation.

“It’s okay,” your voice is small, just above a whisper. You want to face him, but you know that if you do, you'll break into a million pieces. So you keep your gaze downward, busy yourself with the stray pieces of thread on the bottom of your dress. “You’re right, you know. I think I just…I think I just tell myself to expect disappointment so that when something bad happens, I’ll know it’s not because I got my hopes up.”

Satoru turns to you, and you can see him frown through your peripheral. Still, you don’t face him because you’re not done talking. But you thank him silently for listening without interrupting.

“Even though you’re right, I don’t appreciate the way you came on so strongly. We’re not married anymore, we’re not a couple–we’re co-parents. So if there’s something I want you to know about that’s outside of the scope of our kids, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, leave it alone.”

Satoru’s face softens. For once you’re being selfish, putting your foot down. This is the side of you he likes. “Okay. I respect that,” he says, “But can I ask you something?” The smile on his face is mirthful, like he’s got something else up his sleeves this evening. Skeptical, you finally face him with a raised brow.

“What?”

“Let me take you to dinner.”

You laugh in his face, even go as far as smacking his arm because you want him to know you found the joke really funny. He doesn’t budge, and that’s when you realize he’s being serious.

“Wait, what?”

“Let’s go to dinner,” he stands up, crossing his arms across his chest. You tilt your head in disbelief. You’re just waiting for someone to tell you you’re on that old reality show punk’d.

“Funny, I just poured my heart out to you and now you’re making fun of me,” you roll your eyes, feigning annoyance.

“I’m being serious,” he reassures, “you’re already dressed up. It’d be a shame for it to go to waste.” His eyes are twinkling with hope, and once again, you find yourself falling victim to their persuasiveness.

Being under Gojo Satoru’s gaze was suffocating.

Giving in, you ask, “So what are you gonna do? Drive all the way home to get dressed?”

The question is genuine, but the bastard just grins. “I’m a little hurt,” he throws a hand over his heart, “don’t you know me by now? I’m a businessman. I keep pressed blazers and slacks on me at all times.”

He swings his keys around his index finger, hoping that the promise of a spare change of clothes being in his car is enough to convince you to say yes.

“I don’t know…” you trail.

“C’mon, let me take you out. I promise you won’t regret it.”

Somehow he was able to persuade you into going out. After he changed into his spare clothes, you ended up telling your girls that there was gonna be a change of plans, and that they’d go home with their dad tomorrow.

Of course, before leaving, you made sure to leave some money on the table for pizza, and you also made sure to drill into their heads not to open the door for anyone except the delivery guy. You knew they knew the drill already, but it didn’t feel right to leave without saying it anyway.

“Be good, listen to your sister, she’s in charge,” you pinch Haruki’s cheek. Hana smirks, nodding her head in agreement with you.

“I will mom, I know,” she huffs, crossing her arms.

“And you,” your finger wags at Hana, her smirk drops. “Don’t provoke your sister, be nice. Act like you love each other, please.”

“Fine, whatever. I guess,” she grabs the knob to the door, ready to kick the both of you out already. “So does this mean the two of you are back together, or?”

Satoru and you turn to each other before answering in unison, “No.”

“Okay, cool. Well, have fun,” she practically closes the door on the two of you, locking it after. Satoru is just as dumbfounded as you are, but then you break into a fit of laughter.

“Those kids, man.”

“Your kids!” you correct, pushing him playfully as the both of you walk down the pebbled pathway. He finds his equilibrium in time to unlock the car and open your side of the door. You pause before ducking inside.

“Oh, how gentlemanly of you,” you jest, “And they say chivalry is dead.”

“How could it be when I’m alive?” He says matter-of-factly, closing your side of the door. He taps the top of the car before sliding across the hood to the other side. Nice to see some things never changed.

When he gets inside and turns on the car, he puts his hand on the back of your seat to back out. The proximity sends a shiver down your spine, and you have to physically refrain from letting your eyes linger on his jaw, and his arms, and the face he makes when he’s trying to concentrate.

You try to dispel these less-than-friendly thoughts by looking somewhere, anywhere else but him. But you can’t, and it’s irritating.

This is the second time tonight you’ve been this close, and it’s only this time that you realize something about him is…different. Earlier, he didn’t really smell like anything, but you quickly notice his smell has changed.

There’s a sort of piney scent coming from him. It’s not strong or obnoxious enough to blind your nostrils, but it’s enough for you to just barely pick up on it. You almost think it was premeditated, that he took the liberty of spritzing some on before walking you to the car. Before you separated, he’d made it a habit to wear variations of woody scents for you. If you can recall correctly, a passing comment you made about the cologne he was wearing that day is what sparked the habit.

Surely, this couldn’t be coincidental?

“You smell nice,” you blurt, filling in the silence.

Satoru glances at you, “Thank you.” You hate that from the corner of your eye, you can see his stupid little smirk growing bigger by the minute. He already had a big ego, it didn’t need to be stroked any more.

“Don’t let it go to your head, though. You usually smell pretty rank.”

“Ohhh, is that so? Guess I gotta start wearing this more often then, huh?”

“Sure, do what you want,” you say, trying to remain indifferent even though you’re failing terribly to hide your smile. When the car approaches a red light, you finally decide to ask the big question. “So where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see,” he glances over, “Just know I’m good friends with the owner, so last minute reservations weren't a problem.”

The rest of the car ride is silent, save for the low hum of the music playing on the radio. When you arrive at the location, Satoru makes sure to walk all the way around to your side of the door again and open it. Immediately after, the two of you are greeted by a young male. He’s wearing a white button down, black slacks, and a black vest with a red tie. Judging by his appearance, you assume he’s a valet driver.

Satoru drops his keys in the driver’s hands, and escorts you towards the entrance. The boy bows and goes to park the car. Looking around, you start to wonder where exactly this place is supposed to be. The area is dark and secluded, and from where you stand outside, it doesn’t sound like there’s supposed to be a restaurant here. You don’t hear any voices, you don’t even see any security or other passerbyers.

Still, you follow behind him like a duckling, only coming to a halt when he leads you to a door taller than the both of you. He gestures for you to back up, then raises his knuckles to blow a strong, single knock. You’re taken by surprise when a set of angry eyes appear behind a slot in the door.

The pair of eyes first scan over you, then Satoru. A gruff voice is second to accompany them, “Where can I get a good drink?”

“I heard the bar down the street is nice,” Satoru answers. The hatch to the door closes, then swings open the door, and the man behind it moves aside to welcome you in.

“Follow me, please.” Once he closes the door, he begins guiding you down the dimly lit hallway. After making what seems like your hundredth turn, you eventually reach a staircase. The man gestures for you to go on ahead, and you think this is him implying where the three of you will depart.

“Thank you,” you say softly, disappearing down the stairs. Satoru isn’t too far behind, keeping a pace between you. As you near the end of the long, narrow hallway, a stream of white light brightens up your whole path. It leads you down to another door like a beacon of light, and when you reach it, you can hear voices, live music, and dishes clanking on the other side. It’s bustling with life. A huge, joyous smile plasters across your face. It’s almost child-like in appearance, like you haven’t seen something this cool in a long time.

Satoru stands beside you and winks. “What d’ya think? Any idea yet where we are?”

“I think this is fucking cool, and hm,” you take a second to mull it over, “are we at a speakeasy?”

“Smart girl. Now come on.” Stepping back, you allow him to pull open the door, and when he does, there isn’t a word to describe the atmosphere of the place you step into. All you can do is stand there in astonishment. Before long, a man walks up to you.

“Welcome, what is the name you reserved under?”

“Gojo.”

Nodding, the host instructs you to follow after him. He leads you to a private seating area, somewhere far in the back that’s secluded from the other patrons. The space is much bigger, and much more extravagant. You know you’re only sitting way back here because Satoru is who he is. And in all the years you’ve known him, his connections were just another party trick in his arsenal.

The hostess seats you, then Satoru, and tells you that a waiter will be with you shortly.

“This is nice, really nice, but is it–”

“Legal?” he finishes your sentence, “don’t worry. It’s a modern speakeasy-style restaurant. There’s nothing illegal going on here, promise.”

While you wait for your designated waiter, your focus shifts from the man in front of you to the man singing on the stage. Up until now, his voice was white noise in the background, but then he started singing a tune scarily reminiscent of your past–and your breath catches in your throat.

If I ever leave you, baby

You can say I told you so

And if I ever hurt you

You know, I hurt myself…

Turning your gaze back to Satoru, you squint your eyes mirthfully in disbelief. You wonder if this is just a funny coincidence, if this is the universe playing her tricks, but you know deep down, that coincidences and Gojo Satoru don’t belong in the same sentence.

You open your mouth to speak, but quickly close it when you see the waiter approaching from the corner of your eye. He greets the both of you with a polite smile, then sets down two glasses of water.

“Good evening, I’ll be your waiter for the night,” he says, placing a menu in front of you, “Can I get you fine folks started off with a bottle of wine?”

Satoru nods, tells him to bring the best bottle of red they have and then gestures for him to come closer so that he can whisper something in his ear. All the while, you sit back in your seat observing, clicking your nails on the table until the server pulls back and bows.

When he departs, you immediately lean in over the table, and ask, “Just how much time did you have to plan all of this?”

Satoru feigns aloofness, taking a sip of his water, “What do you mean?”

You roll your eyes, gesturing at the stage with your eyes. Then, as if suddenly coming to a realization, he goes, “Oh, that? Yeah, I had nothing to do with that. But isn’t it funny they’re playing our old song?”

Now he’s smirking, with his elbow leaning back on the chair, and a gaze so piercing, you’re certain you’ll crumble into nothing unless you look away. So you do, avert your gaze back to the stage and sway calmly.

Is that any way for a man to carry on

Do you think I want my loved one gone

Said I love you

More than you’ll ever know

“So funny,” you counter.

Eventually, the server comes back with a bottle. “1982 Chateau Latife Rothschild,” he holds it out to present, “Is this alright?”

Despite the years spent with Satoru, and the many elitist events you often attended with him, your knowledge on wine had never surpassed anything but surface level. You knew the difference between good wine and cheap wine was the taste, but your taste buds had grown accustomed to store-bought, so if anything, store-bought tasted like heaven to you. Anyway, though, you nod your head and urge him to pour a glass.

“Thank you,” you smile, before gently swirling the glass and bringing it up to your nose to smell (something you only know to do after being the odd man out at so many company banquets). Satoru waits for you to sip your glass before he sips his. The way you melt into your seat is a silent assurance that you’re pleased.

“This is great, you’re amazing,” you tell the server, who seems pleased by your compliment.

“Glad to be of service, miss. Are you ready to order?”

Dinner goes by smoothly. In fact, it goes by so smoothly, you and Satoru finish the entire bottle of wine. Now you sit at the table, bellies full, faces flushed and sore from laughing, and now you find yourself telling him about the grocery store incident. If you had half a mind (a sober one), you’d shut up right this second to save yourself from the embarrassment. But you don’t. And Satoru’s very persuasive when you’re tipsy.

“Keep going,” he leans in, hand nestled under his chin. He’s completely invested in the story. Actually, as soon as he heard the words ‘store’ and ‘cute guy’, he just had to know more. And you begging him to change the subject didn’t help, not when the sadist in him loved to see you so embarrassed.

“Fine,” you hiccup, “It was so - so bad, Toru.” He doesn’t miss the way you slip and call him by the nickname you’d always reserved for him. It makes his heart race, and god, does he miss the way it sounds spilling from your lips. But he ignores the feeling, and refocuses on your story instead. Which, by the way, was proving to be a task in itself because his eyes couldn’t stop drifting back down to your lips. So soft, so–

“And then she said ‘we don’t believe in rings,’” you whisper, fist coming down on the table. The sound it makes nearly sobers you up, and you realize just how loud you’re being despite your table being secluded from others. Giggling like a kid, you continue, “I mean, how fucking insane is that?!”

“Something as bizarre as that could only ever happen to you,” he replies, laughing along with you, “those people were crazy.”

“The craziest,” you agree, throwing your head back in another fit of laughter. Gradually, the two of you begin to settle down, and once again, you find your attention being drawn back to the man on the stage. Only this time, he’s making an announcement.

“Good evening ladies and gentleman. Tonight I’ve got a special request,” he says, looking out into the audience. Looking at you. “This one’s for a very special lady who, from what I’ve been told, is a great mother that needs to start doing things for herself.”

The singer steps out of the spotlight and hands the note to a server. Your server. Then he begins to sing, and your heart drops into the pit of your stomach. It was your wedding song.

[...] I don’t even know how to love you

Just the way you want me to

But I’m ready (ready) to learn (to learn)

Yes, I’m ready (ready) to learn (to learn)

“Now this one? This one was me,” Satoru leans forward, and you swiftly turn your head to face him. He smiles as he watches your face go through ten different emotions before ultimately softening. It warms your heart to see how incredibly planned this evening was, despite the amount of time he was given to work with. Even so, it kind of scares you–because then that meant this was a grand gesture–that this was his way of saying something. And you weren’t too sure if you wanted to hear it. Your gaze drops to your lap, and Satoru frowns.

To fall in love

To fall in love with you…

“Look at me,” he says softly, but you don’t. “Hey, look at me.” He reaches over the table to take your chin in between his fingers. The touch alone feels electric. Sends liquid hot lightning down the column of your spine. Reluctantly, you meet his gaze, and like always, it’s suffocating. They’re so wide with hope, and so, so gentle in the way they hold you. The longer you gaze upon them, the more you convince yourself it’ll be okay if you surrender to them.

“It’s been years since we’ve divorced,” his voice is shaky, almost strained, like he’s actively thinking how to choose his words carefully, “and when we sat down that night, I thought it was what I wanted, too, you know? And for a while, it was,” he reaches a hand across the table to rest atop your own, “but you gotta know…you gotta know–you’re it for me. There’s no one else on this Earth that I want to start over with. You’ve always been the beginning and end of my story, and I’ll be damned if I let another man start one with you.”

Your heart is beating faster than you can even process what he’s saying. The only thing you’re focused on is not passing out in the middle of this damn restaurant. But then he’s squeezing your hand, and your focus is drawn back to those piercing, pale blues that even put crystals to shame.

“So what do you say?” he says, so softly, so tender. “Can we try again?”

Waiting for your reply, he squeezes your hand again. It’s like your soul is wandering the line between death and the living, and his touch is the tether that brings you back. In the background, the tune of the song sung at your wedding gives you a push of courage.

I don’t even know how to kiss your lips (kiss your lips)

At a moment like this

But I’m going to learn how to do

All the things you want me to

Yes, I’m ready

(Are you ready?) Yes, I’m ready

To fall in love

To fall in love right now

“Yes.”

The walk back to the car is hurried. Aided by both, years and years of built up tension, and the liquid courage currently bubbling in your systems.

The race back to his apartment is even faster. You thank the gods silently that it’s within close proximity to where you just were.

Once you get there, make your way past the doorman and concierge (who both give the two of you a knowing look), go up the elevator, and finally get into his loft–it’s over. Years of restraint, years of pretending, wanting–yearning, come crashing down.

There’s barely any time to close the door before he’s pushing you against it. His lips trail down the column of your neck, then come up to kiss your jaw, until eventually, they find your lips. And when they do, it’s instantaneous–that familiar feeling, the feeling that feels almost like falling.

Once again, for what felt like centuries, you feel again the rush of helplessness. The push and pull of the tide. It brings you down, down, down to the bottom of the ocean floor, and it’s unmerciful.

Kissing Satoru is like being shocked with ten thousand volts of energy. Like all this time you’ve spent not kissing him, has been costing you your life, and he’s the only one who can deliver you salvation. It’s all teeth and tongue for a minute. Messy, and sticky, and nasty. A true testament to the desperation brewing in the pits of both your stomachs.

The sensation of it all has your knees going slack, and that’s when he says–

“Jump.”

Obeying, you do just that. Jump right into his arms, and wrap your legs around his torso like you’ve done so many times before. The way you feel now is the way you used to feel before then, too. Like you were made to fit like this. To be held in his arms like you were molded from the same clay.

Carefully, he adjusts his grip on your body. Keeps his palms planted on the bottoms of your ass, and begins the trek to his room. He struggles a bit getting there because you haven’t stopped kissing since entering the apartment, but he figures it out after a stumble or two (which resulted in a bitten lip and you apologizing profusely through giggles).

“The turbulence up here is crazy, don’t blame me, blame the pilot,” you jest, kissing down his neck to make up for it.

“I’ll make sure to let him know,” he jokes back. As soon as he gets to the bed, he sets you down at the edge of the bed. You try to bring him down to your height but he stops you, wags his finger in your face playfully before using it to push you back into the bed. His fingers start to play with the fabric of your dress, and then his face takes on an indifferent expression. The same one from earlier that night when he first saw you walking down the stairs.

“Can’t believe you were gonna wear this for him…” he trails, lifting the fabric up slowly, eyeing you while doing so, “as if this dress doesn’t mean something.”

Of course, when Shoko chose it, its significance did make you falter–but in your defense, not once did you ever anticipate for him to see you in it. And you especially didn’t expect for him to remember it, the last time you wore it was almost a decade ago.

“I didn’t…” you start, a smile creeping on your lips, “think you remembered?”

“‘Course I did, how could I not?” He says more sharply than intended, taking offense. He takes offense because he spent the better half of the night showing you he remembered. The little things and everything else in between. Couldn’t you see that?

“It was our 4th anniversary. Bought you this dress and fucked you in it that same night. Funny how the second time I’m seeing you in this dress, the circumstances are the same except only this time we’re divorced,” he says, crawling over your body. “Guess I gotta show you just how much I remember.”

With that, he slips a hand under your dress, pulls your panties to the side and runs a finger down your slit. Oh-so-willingly, do you spread your legs for him. It’s almost subconscious, the way your body responds to him. And he revels in it. Lets his fingers work you, feel you, bring you to ecstasy. Then he heightens your pleasure tenfold when he kisses his way down your body, and takes a seat before you on his knees.

Unceremoniously, he pulls your body to the edge of the bed. Takes his time slipping your panties down the length of your legs, then kisses the insides of your thighs, before finally stopping at your mound.

Slowly, he lowers himself to your cunt, kisses your clit softly. Once, twice, three times. The pace in which he’s moving is killing you, to say the least. But you know he’s savoring the moment, making up for all the years he spent not kneeling like this between your legs. So you let him; let him caress you all over before he comes seeking the honey-sweet salvation dripping from your core.

The second his tongue makes contact with your heat, you find yourself clamping a heavy hand over your mouth. “Fuck, Toruuuu,” you drawl, back arching off the bed. Pleased with his abilities, he smiles smugly, using this as an opportunity to push himself even deeper. Up and down, he licks at your slit, uses his fingers in tandem with his tongue to prod at that spongy spot he knows you love.

“Tastes,” a harsh suck, “so good,” another, “better than I remember.”

You know he’s talking, but his words fall on deaf ears. You’re so caught up in your own high, you don’t even take notice of the obscene sloshing sounds coming from your pussy, or the moans you’re making. All you can do is lay there and take it as he takes, and takes, and takes from you.

Soon, you find your orgasm cutting through you like a knife, and you come with a strangled cry that has you biting back tears. Satoru talks you through the whole thing. He lays his head down on your thigh and continues working you with his fingers until you start to shake from the overstimulation.

For a few, you lay and stare at the ceiling. You think you can see the Milky Way–and all the constellations that make it up. It feels like your soul is floating beyond your physical body, and you don’t come back down to Earth until a sharp, stinging sensation brings you back. Did he just?

“Did you just bite me?” you lift your head, peering down to see the evidence. In all its glory, there it was; a red ring smack-dab in the inside of your thigh with teeth imprints. Looking at Satoru, he grins.

“Had to get you back from earlier,” he says, sitting back on his knees. You attempt to kick him with your foot, but he grabs hold of it. Pretending to be wounded, he gasps, “Is this how you treat the man who just gave you a soul-shattering orgasm?”

You roll your eyes, but to your dismay, it only encourages him to continue.

“Fuck, Toru,” he mimics, “oh my god, Toru. You fuck me so goo–”

“Alright, enough!” you manage to kick him this time, laughing as you bring up your hands to cover your face. “Keep carrying on like that and I won’t let you fuck me…” You’re serious in your bite, but he’s smirking. Like he knows you’re full of bullshit.

“Yeah right. You and I both know I make you feel too good.”

Feeling bested, you scoff, though, there’s no real weight behind it. While he begins to remove his shirt, you sit up and replace his hands. He relinquishes control and allows you to unbutton it until the item falls haphazardly to the floor.

He’s so beautiful, you think. Still so chiseled, so perfect after all these years since you’ve last seen him like this. At his most vulnerable. The only difference now is that there are more freckles littered across his skin. Back then, he’d say they were signs of aging, and he’d hate them.

But he’s older now. More mature. So much so that he even winks at you when you trace your fingertips over them.

“They suit you,” you whisper.

“Yeah?”

You nod your head, “mhm.”

Continuing your ministrations, you begin removing his belt. He holds your gaze the entire time it takes for you to unzip his pants and pull them down–and he doesn’t once shy away when you discover the wet spot on the front of his briefs. Slowly, delicately, you remove the soiled item and let it fall down to the floor with the rest of his clothes.

Still looking at him, you take hold of his length and fist him once, twice, experimentally. A dribble of pre oozes from his slit and you bring it to your mouth. All the air in his lungs expel into the air when you lick it off with your tongue, and god, he thinks he could come from that alone.

God, he’s missed you. Missed your touch, your lips–the way you hold him with your eyes like he’s something worth being gentle with. Nothing could ever compare to you, not even his own hand.

As soon as you’re about to take him in your mouth, he stops you. Pushes you back down onto the bed and slots himself between your legs. “No more playing, I’m tired of playing,” he breathes, lowering himself down until half of his weight is on top of you.

Guiding his cock to your entrance, he pushes past your folds with little resistance. The feeling of your cunt squeezing him in has his arms wobbling like jelly, but he musters enough strength somehow to stay up. You, on the other hand, are close to tears.

The more he eases himself in, the more you feel like you’re being stretched open (despite him previously prepping you). If you were being truthful, this wasn’t a complete shock to you. You’ve known that he’s always been big, but something about tonight feels different. Or maybe it’s just been too long since you’ve had something more than just your own fingers.

Even so, you try your best to ignore the burn of the stretch. You throw your arms around his neck and invite him deeper into you, hooking your legs around him so tightly that it renders his limbs useless. For a minute, all you can feel is the weight of him inside of you, and his chest against yours as they rise and fall asynchronously.

“Toru,” your voice is just barely above a whisper, but enough to make the hairs on the nape of his neck stand. “Make love to me.”

Heeding your request, he begins moving. Painfully slow, he unsheathes himself from you until only the head of his cock is inside, then pushes himself all the way back in with force. Again, and again, he repeats this motion. Pulls out, pushes in. Pulls out, pushes in, until he decides to increase his pace and set a steady rhythm.

Every thrust into you is meticulously calculated. Sharp, and forceful, and not once does he disrupt the rhythm. He listens carefully to the sounds you make. Even listens to the way your breath hitches when he hits a spot right. Everything he’s doing is perfect–and it’s to no surprise. Deep down, you know that Satoru knows your body like the back of his hand. He’d know it if you were all old and wrinkly. He’d know it if his soul reincarnated. Hell, he’d know it blind.

“Missed this,” he grunts, burying his head into the interstice of your neck, “missed you,” a kiss to your neck, “missed us.”

The veracity of his words render you speechless. He’s already professed his feelings for you tonight, but it feels even more real now that you’re beneath him. To be loved by Gojo Satoru was a feeling many couldn’t say they had the consolation of knowing. Only a few in his circle could hold that position–but only one person in this world could truly ever know his love to its fullest extent. You.

Satoru continues his mindless rambling, “I love you,” a thrust, “it’s always been you,” another, “was always going to be you.” Leaning back on his heels, he pushes your dress all the way up to reveal your breasts. Now it’s him who sits back and admires this time. As if he were reacquainting himself, he traces the planes and pastures of your chest with an eager hand. He runs it up and over each mound, squeezing and kneading the flesh experimentally.

Then, he dips down and kisses the space between them. Sucks and licks until the skin bruises, and he has evidence to prove tonight actually happened. Eventually, he withdraws from your chest and returns his focus on easing his cock in and out of your cunt.

“So beautiful,” he says, but it’s more to himself than anything. You’re so lost in your own pleasure, he doesn’t even think you can hear him. “Want you to cum on my cock, know you can do it, baby. Know you can,” he grunts, taking your hand and intertwining it with his own. Letting his head fall into your neck, he begins to quicken his pace. Fucks into you with everything he’s got and willing to give.

“Toru,” you finally manage to say, “‘m so close, keep going. Do it - do it inside.”

Do it inside. Do it inside. Do it inside. The thought is tempting, too tempting. It makes his dick twitch inside of you, and he swears if you say it again, he’ll actually do it. But he knows better than to listen to anything you say out of delirium.

“Trust me, sweet girl,” he cradles your face, to which you lean into, “I want to - I want to so fucking badly. But we both know you’d regret it later.”

Whining, your lips form into a pout, and the sight is so cute, he can’t help but to kiss it off of you. Compared to your kiss earlier, this one is much sweeter. Slower. More relaxed. He kisses you with the intent of making you dizzier than you already are, and it’s scary. Even so, you don’t pull away. You allow him to drink you up. Like your lips are the only source of water around, and he’s been quenched for days.

Finally, with a few more thrusts, you reach your climax. The pressure building in the pit of your belly pops like a balloon, and everything goes white. “Toru!” you shriek, arching off the bed and trembling in his grasp.

Using your arch as leverage, he keeps his hands underneath your back and continues to ram into you without abandon. You’re a babbling, wet mess at this point, and your cunt squeezing around him only encourages him more.

“Fuckfuckfuck, ‘m gonna - ‘m gonna,” he curses, balls beginning to tighten. Quickly, he unsheathes himself and fists himself the rest of the way. With an impassioned moan, he climaxes–spurting thick, white, ropes of seed all over your abdomen. Then, falls onto your limp body with a grunt, chest heaving rapidly, and slick with perspiration.

By this time, you’ve settled down enough to form a proper sentence. “That was…”

Satoru huffs, catching his breath. “Yeah.”

Still spent, he continues to lay atop you. And you, having nowhere else to go, let him. The two of you lay comfortably in silence like this for a long time. Just you tracing shapes into his back, and him purring into your neck. Both of you know you should be getting up, but neither of you make an effort to do so. In this moment, time is transcendent. There is no rush to move when time stands still for you.

Soon, that silence is broken.

“I love you,” you say, and there’s no elaboration. Not even a recant. In fact, you say it so nonchalantly, he’s not even sure it was real. You say it like you’ve never been more certain in your life, like it’s the easiest thing you’ve ever had to do.

“Really?” he queries, almost pathetically like the mere idea of you loving him is something unattainable. You look at him like he’s got two heads.

“Yeah, you’re my best friend. I’ve always loved you,” you admit, pausing your ministrations on his back, “I just had to relearn how to love you.” He smiles at this, hums into your neck to keep from crying.

“I’m glad we found our way back to each other,” he mumbles into your neck, “so where do we go from here?”

“From here we take it slow. We’ll learn together what it means to be individuals, and then from there we’ll see where it goes,” you say matter-of-factly, “no more repeating past mistakes.”

“Agreed,” he nods, “what will we tell the girls?”

That’s when your eyes widen and you sit up, forcefully pushing Satoru off of you.

“What did I say, what’s wrong?” he queries, sitting up on the bed. He watches you rummage around the room maniacally, head on a swivel as you run out of the room and return with a purse. You pull your phone out to see a slew of missed calls and messages.

“We forgot to call the girls!” You yell, showing him your phone screen of missed calls. Gojo jumps up to join you, one leg already sliding into his pants.

“Shit!”

Noticing the state of your appearance, you pinch the skin between your brows. “Satoru, I can’t wear this! You got cum all over it,” you groan, pointing to all the splotches of white. He tells you to wait a second before disappearing into his closet, then he comes back with a fist of clothes and throws it at you.

“I can’t wear this either, they’ll wonder why I’m wearing your clothes!”

Satoru runs to you and pull the dress off of your body, “We’ll wash it!” he screams, disappearing again out of the room, and to where you imagine, the laundry room. When he returns, he’s out of breath and panting. It’s only then do you realize how insane he looks with half his shirt buttoned, and his pants twisted around his hips. A giggle escapes your lips.

“What are you laughing at? Chop chop,” he claps, ushering you into his bathroom.

Yeah, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss this idiot.

comments + reblogs very appreciated !!!

#art by: @yamada_souko (twt)#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader smut #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x y/n #satoru gojo x y/n #jjk smut

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duckprintspress · 3 months ago

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Queer Horror Stories to Celebrate Mary Shelley’s Birthday!

Today, August 30th, is Frankenstein Day and Mary Shelley’s Birthday! To celebrate the first horror novel, we decided to ask our contributors about their favorite queer horror novels and ended up with 28 titles for a very spooky end of summer. Contributors to this list are: Shadaras, D.V. Morse, Nova Mason, Terra P. Waters, Rhosyn Goodfellow, Nina Waters, Meera S., Shea Sullivan, Owl Outerbridge, Sanne, Tris Lawrence, boneturtle and an anonymous contributor.

The Luminous Dead by Caitlin Starling

Someone You Can Build a Nest In by John Wiswell

The Devourers by Indra Das

Into the Drowning Deep & Rolling in the Deep (Rolling in the Deep series) by Mira Grant

What Moves the Dead (Sworn Soldier series) by T. Kingfisher

Bury Your Gays by Chuck Tingle

Camp Damascus by Chuck Tingle

I Feed Her to the Beast and the Beast Is Me by Jamison Shea

Sixteen Souls by Rosie Talbot

The Honeys by Ryan La Sala

The Taking of Jake Livingston by Ryan Douglass

Kaleidoscope of Death by Xi Zi Xu

The Dead and the Dark by Courtney Gould

Alice Isn’t Dead by Joseph Fink

Squad by Maggie Tokuda-Hall

The Hills of Estrella Roja by Ashley Robin Franklin

The Vampire Lestat (The Vampire Chronicles series) by Anne Rice

The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

The Summer Hikaru Died by Mokumokuren

Pet Shop of Horrors by Matsuri Akino

Your Shadow Half Remains by Sunny Moraine

The Deep Sky by Yume Kitasei

Make the Exorcist Fall in Love by Aruma Arima & Masuku Fukayama

Hell Followed With Us by Andrew Joseph White

Summer Sons by Lee Mandelo

Fate/Stay Night by Type-Moon

Umineko When They Cry by Ryukishi07

Case 00: The Cannibal Boy from Sounding Stone

Welcome to Night Vale

The Silt Verses

What are your favorite queer horror novels? Tell us in the comments!

Want to chat your favorite reads with us? Join our Book Lover’s Discord server!

Update your Goodreads TBR with any of these books by visiting our queer horror shelf on Goodreads!! Or, jump onto Bookshop.org and browse these books on our queer horror list!

#duck prints press #mary shelley #frankenstein #queer books #queer horror #queer horror books #lgbtqia books #lgbtqia horror #lgbtqia horror books #frankenstein day

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sydneyofalltrades · 1 year ago

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Last one! Last one, I swear I just love these two lovebugs so fricking much 😭

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Moni looked up. “Say that again?”

She saw Mason’s small smile. “I really think I’m in love with you.”

Moni looked off. “Oh, I’ve heard that lie about a million time before.”

Not that she wasn’t happy with his confession, but she didn’t believe it. How could she believe it?

She went back to drawing, not daring to meet his eyes.

“Moni..”

He dragged her name until she finally looked up again.

“What?”

He took her pencil. “Didn’t you hear me?”

She nodded. “I did, I just- I don’t believe you.”

He smiled. “Oh? Why?”

Moni frowned. “I’ve had a life. A life I don’t want to relive. I’ve had men bend over backwards for me to sleep with them. I was stuck in a hellscape for five long years and I can’t go back to that again. I really like you, Mason, I do. But I just don’t believe anyone ever really loves me. I can’t bring myself to think that.”

She took her pencil back from him. “So yeah, that’s why.”

She went back to drawing and Mason sat up. “Monique. Can you stop for five minutes?”

She put her book down. “What is it?”

He pulled her over to him and she flinched, but he just hugged her.

“I’m sorry for the life you lived back in Paris,” he said earnestly, “I don’t know how hard it must’ve been, you were so young and you didn’t deserve the shit you went through. But I just want you to understand. I never want to use you, never want to hurt you, never want to make you feel like you deserve less because you deserve the world. And I want to give it to you!”

Moni didn’t know how to respond. So she didn’t.

“Monique,” Mason continued, “Forget what I said before. I do love you. I love the way you scrunch your nose after a kiss, I love your boundless creativity, I love how your accent sounds, I love your dry wit, your silver and black hair, your beautiful grey eyes. I love you, Moni Gruber. And you need to understand that, I always will.”

Moni sat in silence after his confession. She felt tears, whether of joy or pain or confusion, she couldn’t say.

But oh, she loved him. She loved that man so much.

“Mason, I- I don’t think I can top that declaration of love,” she said slowly. He shrugged sheepishly.

“You don’t have to. I know you love me back. You just have to say it.”

And she kissed him. Kissed him so hard she was worried they’d fall over onto the leaf pile her mother had made.

“I love you,” she said happily, “I love you so much, I always have. And I’m sure I always will.”

He grinned and she kissed him again.

“I love your silly limericks and I love your punctuality and I love your attitude and I love how your hair gets wet when it rains and I love your captivating forest green eyes. I love you, Mason Lovett, I love you so so fricking much.”

And there they were, the two lovestruck teenagers, confessing and kissing until Noel walked in on them and nearly killed Mason for being too personal before Moni told him.

“You two,” Noel said, shaking his head, “I’m gonna go back and pretend I never walked in on you making out.”

“Aw, you’re just jealous that I got into a relationship before you,” Moni teased. Noel threw a rock at her. It missed, gladly.

“Hey, don’t attack her,” Mason retorted, “Moni only speaks the truth.”

Moni smiled. “See, Mason believes me.”

Noel rolled his eyes. “You two are perfect for each other.”

#moni gruber #and her lover mason #and also #noel gruber #even tho he’s only in it for two seconds #ALSO THE LOVERS ARE LOVING #and being very precious too #ride the cyclone #rtc au #sydneys weirdness

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torpublishinggroup · 2 months ago

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This advertisement is for Swordcrossed by Freya Marske.

WHAT’S IT ABOUT

Mattinesh Jay is the chronically responsible eldest son and dutiful heir striving to keep his family’s business running. Luca Piere is a menace of a con artist desperately trying to escape his past by taking up the blade. When the pair meet, swords clash, and sparks fly. Soon, they’re entangled in a conspiracy that may bring Matti’s house to ruin if they don’t work together.

Want to see if it’s to your liking? We’ve included an excerpt from chapter one below.

Chapter 1 Matti laid his fingers on the polished edge of the bar’s wooden surface and forced himself to stop counting sheep. And yards of twill. And looms in need of repair, and outstanding debts.

Instead, he counted today’s collection of ink smudges, bruise-black on the brown skin of his hands: six. He counted the number of blue dyes that would have been used in the fabric of the bartender’s layered skirt: four, possibly five if the palest shade was true dimflower and not just the result of fading.

The tense throb of pain like a fist clenched in his hair eased, grudgingly, to a quiet ache. Bearable. Normal.

It was busy in the drinking house, the post-dinner hour that usually found Matti heading back to his study to finish the paperwork that a member of his family had tugged him away from in order to eat. Matti counted the number of flavoured jenever bottles on the shelf behind the bar—fifteen—in the time it took Audry to finish serving her current customer and sweep her sky-coloured skirts to stand in front of Matti. “And here’s a face we haven’t seen in a while! Something tells me you’re here for a celebration, Mr. Jay.”

Matti hoped the smile he’d pulled onto his face wasn’t the wrong size, or the wrong shade of abashed. “News travels fast.”

“Mattinesh Jay and Sofia Cooper. A match surprising exactly no one.”

Matti kept the smile going. There was a silence in which Audry politely didn’t say, Pity she’s in love with someone else, and so Matti didn’t have to say, Yes, isn’t it?Audry said, “Wait here a moment. I’ve got something in the back that I think will do nicely.”

Matti cast a glance over the room as Audry disappeared. His cousin Roland made an extravagant sighing motion and pretended to check his watch when Matti’s eyes landed on their table. A burst of laughter came from a dark-skinned woman nearby; she was wearing a dress that rode high at the knee to reveal a fall of lace like frothing water, a northern style of garment that Matti’s own northerner mother seldom wore these days.

At the closest table the Mason Guildmaster, Lysbette Martens, was deep in conversation with a senior member of the Guild of Engineers. Martens met Matti’s gaze with her own and nodded brief acknowledgement. He was sure she was weighing his presence as consciously as he was weighing hers. This was a place to be seen, after all.

“Here you are. Red wine for young lovers.”

Matti turned around again. Audry named the price for the bottle as she uncorked it and set it on the bar. Matti paid her, ignoring the lurch like a fishhook in his stomach at the amount on the credit notes he was so casually handing over. Mattinesh Jay, firstborn of his distinguished House, had no reason not to indulge in one of the finest bottles of wine that money could buy.

No reason that anyone here would know about, anyway.

Matti took the bottle in one hand and hooked three glasses with the other. Making his way over to the table, his mind circled back to dwell on the wrong sort of numbers. The money in Matti’s purse was painstakingly calculated: enough for the first round of engagement drinks, and enough for him to hire a top-of-the-range duellist who would step forward in the awkwardly likely event of someone challenging for Sofia’s hand at the wedding itself.

Matti’s skin prickled cold at the very thought of what might happen if Adrean Vane challenged against Matti’s marriage to Sofia and won. His family’s last hope would be gone. Matti would have failed them in this, the most useful thing he could do for them.

He was so caught up in this uneasy imagining as he wove through the room that he collided, hard, with another person’s shoulder. Matti was both tall and broad, not easily unbalanced; the unfortunate other member of the collision made a grab for Matti’s coat, couldn’t get a good grip, and tripped to the ground with a caught-back “Fu—”

Matti tried to step backwards. They were crammed into a small space between tables and there were people moving around them. His first panicked instinct had been to keep the wine bottle upright and the glasses safe, so he didn’t have a hand free to steady himself on a chair.

He wasn’t quite sure what happened next, except that he ended up wobbling and stepping forward instead, and he felt his boot come down on something that was not the floorboards. A small, pathetic, grinding mechanical sound crawled up Matti’s nerves, heel to head, and reached his ears even amidst the noise of the busy room.

“Sorry!” he said at once. “I’m sorry. Was that—Oh, Huna’s teeth.”

The man on the floor jerked his head up, staring at Matti, and Matti stared back.

For a moment all that Matti could see was the wide, straight line of the man’s mouth, set beneath an equally straight nose, and the frame that set off the whole: the dark, luminous copper-red hair that seemed to be trying to grow in about ten different directions.

The man’s tongue darted out in a nervous mannerism, wetting his lower lip. Something in Matti’s own mouth tried to happen in a yearning echo.

“Would you please lift,” the man said precisely, “your godsdamned foot?” Heat flooded Matti’s face. He snatched his foot backwards with enough force that his heel collided with a chair leg.

The redheaded man stood, his fingers closed convulsively tight around a small velvet bag. His brown coat was shabby and made of a coarsely woven fabric, though his shirt was good and his trousers had probably been equally so before they’d been overwashed into a patchy shine.

“Fuck fuck shitting—fuck,” the man said in tones of despair, with a lilt to his accent that placed him at least one city-state farther east: Cienne, or possibly Sanoy. He shook the contents of the bag into his palm and ventured into new realms of inappropriate language as he did so.

Enough people had witnessed their collision, or had their heads turned by the stream of expletives, that there were a fair few necks craning to see what was in the man’s hand. Matti, at whom the shaking fingers of this hand were pointed most directly, couldn’t help seeing for himself the ragged, glinting pile of cogs and jewels and glass. Only the intact cover—monogrammed in a swirling, engraved H—spoke of this pile’s previous existence as a pocket watch. A very expensive pocket watch, by the look of it.

The man’s breath hissed out through his teeth. “Guildmaster Havelot is going to use my arm bones as a fucking lathe. He only had it made to order, and he only trusted me to pick it up, didn’t he? Two hundred gold. Fucking fuck.”

“I’m so sorry,” Matti said again. He recognised the name: Havelot was the Woodworker Guildmaster in Cienne. “Truly. I can—” He stopped. The abrupt lack of his words created a silence that seemed to suck noise into itself, as conversations died to murmurs and the onlookers sensed something interesting.

The man looked straight at Matti with a stubborn lift of his chin. His brows, the same absurd colour as the rest of his hair, had sprung up into the beginnings of hope; as Matti’s silence grew longer, they lowered again. And then lowered farther. He swept a look down and then slowly up Matti’s own outfit, and now pride warred with scorn in the way those maddening lips pressed together.

Matti felt sick. His own coat was made of the finest wool, a midnight blue cut perfectly to his figure, and the rest of his clothes were of the same quality. He was holding a bottle of extremely good wine. Anybody looking at him would make immediate assumptions about the amount of ready money that Matti might have, and the ease with which he would be able to reimburse a poor clerk, if he’d just ruined a pricey piece of artificer’s skill that the man’s employer had trusted him to travel all the way to Glassport to collect.

Of course they would make these assumptions. That was the point.

Matti swallowed and felt the burning heaviness of his purse redouble. He’d be left with enough to a hire a duellist, yes, but not one of the highest skill. It wouldn’t buy himself and his family the absolute security they needed.

His friends were looking at him. It seemed like every pair of eyes in the drinking house was looking, and in another moment the murmurs of curiosity would turn to murmurs of disapprobation. I thought Matti Jay had more honour than that, they would say. What’s two hundred gold to someone like him?

Besides, the plain fact of the matter was that Matti had broken the watch. And he couldn’t pretend that he and this man with his proud mouth and poor coat, patched at one elbow, were on an equal footing. Even if he were left without a bronze, Matti would still have influence, connections, the weight of his family’s name. That was still worth something. For now.

So that was that.

“I—I really am sorry.” Matti set the wine and glasses down on the corner of the nearest table and pulled his purse from inside his coat. He kept his gaze on the man’s face, on a pair of eyes that were either grey or brown—impossible to tell from this angle—and urgently willed them not to look away. To a degree that seemed irrational, he wanted to banish the judgemental expression from the man’s face. “Of course I’ll cover the cost. Two hundred gold. Who did the work?”

The man glanced down at the metal scraps in his hand, as though the answer might be hidden in the pile. “Speck,” he said at last. “Frans Speck, in Amber Lane.”

“He’s a fair man. Tell him what happened and he’ll rush through the repair job,” Matti said. He held out the century notes.

The man tipped the wreckage of the watch back into the bag and closed his hand around the money, slow and wary. His fingertips had rough patches that scraped against Matti’s own, sending a tingle up Matti’s arm.

“I appreciate it,” the man said. He looked less cold now, though still nowhere near warm. “You’ve saved my life. Really.”

Matti forced himself to smile. Forced himself to say, “It’s nothing,” as though it really were nothing.

The man nodded awkwardly at Matti and tucked both money and bag into a pocket. Then he turned and was gone, headed for the door.

Matti somehow made his way to his table and sat down. His heart was pounding so loudly that he could barely hear anything else, and he wanted to shout at his own blood to be quiet and let him think. He needed to be alone in his study. He needed to contemplate his options, and make lists, and pore over the accounts for the thousandth time, in case they transmuted themselves into a picture of prosperity instead of the ugly, desperate reality that nobody outside of Matti’s immediate family knew about.

“Two hundred gold,” he said, before he could stop himself. “Two hundred.”

“We saw. Hard luck,” his cousin Roland said, making a face.

Perhaps it was stretching the term to call Roland and Wynn his friends, but they were the closest thing Matti had to members of that category, and the only people he’d been able to think of to form his wedding party. At least the three of them never found it too hard to pick up their acquaintanceship again, even if it had been months since their last conversation.

Wynn turned the bottle of wine to inspect the yellow butterfly on the label. “How appropriate that we’re drinking wine from your betrothed’s own winery.”

“Audry’s idea of a joke, I think,” Matti said. The word betrothed had landed in his ears like a piece of music played in an unfamiliar key; his mind was still turning it over, trying to decide how it felt about the melody. His hand was shaking as he poured the first glass, sending the stream of dark wine shivering and slipping. He’d steadied it by the time he poured the second.

“Huna smile,” he said, opening the toasts by lifting his own glass. “Thanks for agreeing to stand up with me, you two.”

“Drown your sorrows in this one, and by the time we hit the next bottle you’ll remember that you’re here to celebrate. And that once you’re married to Sofia Cooper,” Roland went on, lowering his voice sympathetically, “Jay House will be rolling in enough money to replace a hundred watches.”

Except that Matti had to get himself successfully married in the first place. And he’d just lost his best guarantee of doing so.

He let the old, gorgeous wine flood down his throat until a good third of his glass had vanished. He felt lightheaded; it had to be panic, because the wine couldn’t be working that fast. Panic and a sense of becoming unmoored. And the image of the man’s face, pale and sharply beautiful, gazing up from where he was kneeling at Matti’s feet.

“A fair effort,” Wynn said, when Matti put the glass down. “But I’ll show you children of Huna how it’s done.” He raised his own glass. “Agar fill your plates and cups.”

Matti smiled and drank again, accepting the toast. Maybe the wine was working after all. He could still feel his panic, the wound-up watch of his worry, but he shoved it away into a recess of his mind: its own small, dark velvet bag. It would be safe enough there. It would last until tomorrow. Matti’s ability to worry was shatterproof.

For now, he was going to drink.

#Bramble #Booklr #New books #Tbr #Swordcrossed #Freya Marske #LGBTQ #Fantasy #Romance

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luvsgalores · 4 months ago

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she wanted to believe him. every part of her needed to believe that what he was saying was true, that things were different and that he was willing to put the effort into showing it was. ❛ you just expect me to believe you ? ❜ they played the same game so many times for her to know that it could be just a farce to get her back. ❛ you do know how many times you've told me this same thing, right ? ❜

" it's different this time. what do i have to do to prove it to you? "

#amara.#amara / mason.#lover girl putting her big girl pants on and not folding immediately?#it'll last 4 seconds #chromesheart.

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gravyhoney · 7 months ago

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My ass was born to be a passenger princess so tell me why I’m paying for gas every single week for my falling apart car. This sucks fuck you car culture, I wish public transportation was better.

#hi btw I’m a public transportation lover and supporter #mostly bc i fucking hate driving #i didn’t even take drivers Ed #i just took the test and got my license when I turned 18 #but I’d love it if I could hop on a bus for cheap as shit and they’d take me to work instead #bc fuck my stupid evil car #that’s not nice i love her #but i don’t want to driveeeee #mason posts #mason talks

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ajortga · 8 months ago

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sweet pt.2

pairing: jenna ortega x fem reader

summary: jenna can't stop thinking about you, the coffee girl. she may or may not have asked you out on something her friends consider as a date.

word count: 3k+

read the other parts here! previous part: part 1 part 2 part 3

It became sort of a habit for Jenna.

It would be music, think about you, eat, think about you, sleep, think about you, film, yay Jenna gets to see you!

Maybe she’s over exaggerating it, but at the same time she’s really not.

Jenna wasn’t the regular person to be a love bird. Head over heels for someone was barely something she was used to. Well sure she would pass some guys in the city or notice them on set and think, “Oh his hair is perfect” or “He’s kind of cute.” She’s dated a few guys, broke them off because they weren’t for her.

All of the guys only hung out with her knowing she was a celebrity, or she would really think they were the one, until they lost interest and treated her like some toy. She hated when they did that. In fact, she was disgusted by it so much that she didn’t even want to think of having a lasting relationship at all. She just had to find someone right for her.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Melissa nudges Jenna as they’re both in their Tara and Sam outfits.

Jenna hums, looking at the taller latina with a small roll of her eyes while their makeup is getting patched up, “Just hungry, I guess.”

She shifts in her seat, her earbuds in and waiting for this day to be over, she forgot an umbrella. Of course the forecast would show as non-stop rain the whole day with thunderstorms, she literally checked the day before and it said sunny.

“Well, we only have to shoot like, 5 scenes. You wanna go with Jas and Mason to the Italian place you like? On me.”

Tempting.

But Jenna’s mind has other plans.

“I think I’m gonna drop by the coffee place next door, craving a latte you know?”

She sees the way Melissa’s face twitches upwards, almost as a confused yet searching look, “You don’t like coffee.”

“The shop changed my mind, Y/N recommended a latte that is actually really good.”

“Y/n you say?” And from Melissa’s sing-song voice, she knows what’s coming.

“Yes,” Jenna scoffs, she can feel her ears begin to heat up.

“I didn’t know you had a friend named Y/N.”

It’s a little quiet, the only noise is from Jenna’s half put in earbud, “I met her a couple days ago, she’s a barista that helps her parents run their coffee shop. Keeps the place cozy and organized.”

“So she’s a barista?”

“Yes,” Jenna replies, half distracted as she picks at her cuticles.

“Who helps run her parent’s coffee shop?”

“Yep.”

“Next door?”

“Uh huh.”

“You like her,” Melissa smirks, it’s not a question anymore.

“Yes-Wait what? No!” Jenna slaps Melissa’s arm, caught off guard.

Jenna hears her laugh, half-heartedly, “I’m just kidding, but you do seem out of it, are you thinking about her often?”

She shrugs, picking off skin that she just scratched.

“Well I think you are, you’re nervous.”

Now the daydreamer turns to face Melissa, “No I’m not, I just think she’s sweet and she’s someone that already brought me out of that introverted lookin’ shell when I first meet people.”

It was true. It’s like you two knew each other when you first met, she hopes you thought of her that way too. She hopes you’re thinking of her as much as she thinks about you everyday.

Melissa looks down at Jenna’s cuticles, then back up at her, “You’re thinking about her, you’ve been quiet today and don’t think I didn’t see what song you’re listening to. You never listen to love songs!”

“What?! I have not been listening to love songs!”

“Lover by Taylor Swift? Lingers by The Cranberries? About you by the 1975? Dark Red by Steve Lacy??”

My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue

All's well that ends well to end up with you

Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover

“I just have taken interest in love songs I guess, it’s spring anyways right?”

“Spring my ass! That is bullshit!” Jasmine chimes in, making Jenna flinch and turn to the corner where Jas was hiding.”

“What the fuck Jas.. Are you eavesdropping?” Jenna shrieks.

“I know when a girl likes a girl,” Jas rolls her eyes and immediately stands up from her squatting position, “Don’t think me and Mason didn’t see you texting someone that you named mY y/N OOoO La lAAaAa..”

Jasmine shuts up with a slipper slapped into her face.

“Just go ask her out or something,” Mason says, popping behind Jasmine and getting the second pair of slippers thrown to his stomach, making him yelp.

“I barely even know her,”

“And there's no difference, you barely fall in love, girl, love at first sight for you means that she’s the one. You know your priorities and she checks all of them. If not, you wouldn’t be listening to those dumb love songs.”

“Gotta agree Jenna, what about this, we’ll go to the Italian restaurant first, then we’ll leave you alone with her in the coffee shop, you come out and tell us how it goes.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you love us.”

“Ugh.”

The alfredo pasta was twirled from the fork Jenna was holding, eating as the cast of scream 6 giggled and talked during their lunch break. It was a big bowl of pasta to say the least, she shared it with the whole cast but she was eating it up like there was no tomorrow. She knew around this time she came to your cafe, she only came around two times, but if you didn’t see her on a Thursday in the afternoon, she can almost feel the disappointment you might feel. Or hopes you feel, Jenna’s wondering to herself if you even think of her.

“Oh she’s falling hard for this silly Y/N girl,” Jasmine whispers to Melissa, to which she agrees almost immediately.

“No I’m not,” Jenna blurts, placing down her fork.

Everyone in the table clicks their tongue, a few, “Oh come on” and “Liar!”

“Well you wouldn’t have responded, we’ve been talking to you for the past 5 minutes and you only jerk your head when you hear anything about her!” Jasmine groans, showing her hands if they would somehow present something.

She signals for the check, she quickly pays, and as soon as that happens her real life core four push her out of the restaurant and to the outside of the coffee shop, like parents.

“Go,” Jenna’s shoulder was pushed into the door and it was too late to go back as she heard the familiar bell ring.

“I hate you Jas,” her hands flip the 3 people giggling behind the foggy window behind her as she hears the voice she’s been thinking about the whole day.

“Jenna!” Your tiny figure pops out from the coffee bean machine, waving to her happily.

Cute, she thinks to herself. You’re so cute.

“Almost thought you wouldn’t come today,” you murmur, making Jenna shake her head.

“Just had some lunch with friends, but I couldn't miss out on coffee on Thursdays though.”

“Ah,” you hum, your eyes focused on the latte art you were working on.

The only noise is the r&b music and the small chatter that keeps the environment comforting.

A small bunny was being created, pouring the creamer carefully.

“You’re almost looking as tiny and cute as that bunny,” your co-worker, Matteo says, a few feet away from you.

A soft laugh erupts in your throat, rolling your eyes from his compliment, but thanking him nonetheless. Jenna doesn’t know if she’s feeling a strong pit of jealousy that sizzles beneath the back of her mind. Her eyes train on the boy, hazel eyes, brunette hair.

“Okay okay, stop that,” you grumble, a small smile plastered on your face as you playfully nudge him to show your annoyance.

“Feisty,” he chides.

“The only thing I did differently today is that I curled my hair. You can barely see it in this ponytail,” one hand is pointing to your hair while the other keeps concentrating on the bunny.

“You’re also wearing a bow, your freckles are more visible, mmm,” he thinks for a moment, “Oh and,” he comes closer, whispering in your ear so only you can hear. Your body almost shivers from it, “You’re staring at a new coming regular and smiling like a weird teenager.”

You stop your latte art, groaning in frustration since you were caught by a coworker that also is a kind friend of yours.

“No I’m not, stop whispering in my ear and let me do my latte art,” you shove him away and continue to work on your bunny.

Jenna swallows the prickly feeling in her throat, feeling herself scowl at some guy who’s name tag seems to say, “Mat ear.” Maybe she should switch out acting with latte art for a day.

The bunny looks complete.

And perfect, you exhale a breath from pride, slide the latte and call out the person’s order with a warm smile.

Then Jenna feels like a fool standing there because she just realized that she’s been staring at you making another person’s latte. Then you feel stupid for not sending someone over to serve her since you’re assuming that she wanted something.

“Sorry!” You apologize, smacking the top of your head as you lean across the countertop, “Hi Jenna, did you want something?” Jenna looks down at your lips for a moment, your teeth tugged on your bottom lip, then trails back up to the menu.

“No worries, I should’ve sat down, I just wanted to visit I guess. Sure. Um,” She doesn’t know what to get.

“Confused again huh?” You tease, looking at the menu then at the lattes. It makes her almost fan herself to know that you know she wants a latte today.

It takes a moment for you to think, “I don’t even think I put this up on our menu, but the other day when I was closing I tried a hazelnut caramel, you down to try that today?”

“That sounds pleasing, sure I’ll take that.”

“Okay, one hazelnut caramel!”

“Dude, I swear your cafe sells at least every pastry known to mankind. Those brownies and chocolate chip cookies look like it could make society salivatate.”

You laugh, “Thanks silly, I just experiment and make sure everyone in NYC can have a taste of home if they are from somewhere else. Sometimes I take my recipes from a past generation baking book, other times I just try baking from eyeing measurements.”

Jenna smiles at that, touching your hand with hers and pressing it down to the counter, “Well trust me, this is probably why you get a hell load of customers every morning.”

A light-hearted, non-forced, soft giggle comes from you, not moving your hand that is pressed from hers.

“As long as it makes others happy and continues a legacy while doing other things I love, and meeting sweet people that mark my memory like you, I think that I wouldn’t trade it. Did you want anything else?”

“I think that’s it today,” Jenna breathes, moving her hand away from yours. Immediately your hand misses the warmth and just wants to pull her back.

She can’t help but notice the smile plastered on your face, “Okay, hazelnut caramel coffee, on the house.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Nuh uh, not on my watch,” Jenna insists, pulling out a 10 dollar bill and immediately you shoo her away.

“On me! Honest! I own this place anyways and it happens at least twice everyday, don’t worry about it love.”

She hears a small “aww” come from her phone and she freezes, her cheeks heating up in an instant.

“I’m paying you one day,”

“If it’s banterings and consistent times that I see you besides Tuesdays and Thursdays, then okay,” your voice echoes as you begin to prepare her latte.

Jenna smiles at you and as soon as she turns around she picks up her phone and curses into it, “What the hell Jas? How the hell did you manage to call me before I got into the shop and stalk into our conversation??”

Snorts and laughs come from the other line, she immediately plugs her earphones in.

“On the house, hmm??” Mason teases, everyone in unison going “ooh la la..”

“I’m going to chop your heads off-”

“And of course you place your hands on top of hers!! It’s like watching the corniest romance in front of my eyes!”

It had only been 5 minutes that Jenna had talked with you, and somehow she still got stuck and caught by her friends.

“Shut up,” Jenna says, her voice soft, but grumpily as she scoffs.

Melissa, Mason, and Mindy are shouting from outside, she can hear them screaming through the phone.

“Hey,” you say softly, bringing her latte with two wrapped pastries in hand and slide it to her front, “Try the brownies and cookies you were looking at and tell me what you think?”

Jenna wants to keep her cool and to smile politely, but the three crazy people outside that are listening in are making it hard. Especially with all the kissing noises she can hear, so she takes out her earbuds and tosses them in her hoodie’s pocket.

It takes her a while to realize she didn’t buy the pastries that made her hungry.

“Seriously?”

The way your cheeks curved upwards and your nose scrunched as you smiled made Jenna smile on the spot there, “Seriously,” you assured.

“I hate you for this,” she says playfully, sarcastically.

“Who can hate two free pastries? That’s a win for me,” you pull the chair out, sitting down as you take a small break, exhaling.

There was a cute cat design on the hazelnut caramel latte, the steaming, sweet bitterness scent that wafts in the air makes Jenna shiver. She plays with the wrapping of the chocolate chip cookie before mumbling a soft, “Thank you.”

“Mmmhm, no problem.”

There's a quiet pause, Jenna sips her latte, looking up at you and seeing you giggle. It’s sweet, light, bitter, and perfect.

You hand her a napkin, there's a small white foaming mustache from the creamer.

It takes a moment as she takes the napkin before you speak again, “So, filming mm? Is it stressful, you know, having to wake up early and doing stuff like that?”

“Honestly, there are days where it can be too much and I need to wind down a bit. But I love seeing cameras and doing something that I have the fortunate privilege of doing, I know a lot of people don’t have that and it makes me grateful.”

You hum in response, nodding, playing with the nape of your shirt.

“I used to want to act and direct,” you smile.

“Really? Why not now?”

Your shoulders shrug, “I still do small stuff, holding cameras, auditioning for stuff, it’s just a little harder since I’m working here and making sure I can continue doing, you know, this. But I love working here, it heals something in me.”

It makes Jenna feel almost bad, not in an overly guilty way. She just can’t fathom feeling pressured to do something instead of going the way you want.

“You have coworkers, you don’t have to be here everyday, you know?” She tilts her head.

Her eyes meet yours, and again she sees those doe eyes, with nothing but something to make her own self melt.

But I'm in so deep

You know, I'm such a fool for you

You got me wrapped around your finger

Do you have to let it linger?

“I know, sometimes I’m afraid this place will go haywire.”

She giggles at that, then thinks for a moment, “You know, I get on set tomorrow at 11, which is later than most days. Do you wanna, you know, just come and look around? The directors and producers are the sweetest people I know and they don’t mind a plus one. I would like, show you around and you can reach out to some people.”

It’s silent, your face is thoughtful as you’re processing what she said.

“I’ll stick by your side the whole time we’re not filming, introduce you to the cast, as long as you don’t do anything silly, which I highly doubt you might.”

“Okay, I’ll have to check in with Matteo, ask him to bring his sister that comes in on Saturdays and switch it to tomorrow.”

The brunette feels her heart flipping and she nods, burying her face in her hands to try and stop the redness that is invading her cheeks.

You come back soon later, beginning to talk about the plan of the coffee shop tomorrow, but Jenna gets distracted, it’s hard seeing Jasmine blowing her breath on the window, making hearts, then wiping the fog and seeing the way all her friends are making dreamy gestures to mock her. They’re all dancing and she wants to flip them off.

“I’ll be there tomorrow, could you by, um any chance, pick me up? I usually walk here and get my car repaired.”

Oh fuck, Jenna thinks, because she get’s picked up by Jasmine and tomorrow Melissa and Mason will be joining, like they do twice a week. She wants to face palm, she can almost picture the way when you make conversation with her in the car tomorrow, she’ll see in the corner of her eye Mason batting his eyelashes and sticking his tongue out.

“Sure, if you’re okay with some of my crazy friends.”

“Tomorrow it is,” you say, waving and ruffling your hair before waving and walking back to work.

Jenna looks down at her earbuds and she completely forgot she didn’t end the call, she just stashed it away, she’s bearing what is to come, putting her earbuds back in.

“SHE’S ASKING HER OUT ON A DATE” (Mason)

“NO WAY” (Jas)

“SHE’S A FOOL” (Jas)

“SHE’S GOING TO GET EMBARRASSED TOMORROW.” (Jas)

Not to mention the way they are waving their hands outside, she can almost hear the screaming from here.

“There’s no way in hell you asked this sweet pretty girl to come on set tomorrow,” Melissa sing-songs.

“Paws off,” she grumbles.

“She wants her for herself, of course.”

“Shut up!”

#jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader #vada cavell x reader #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega imagine #jenna marie ortega

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angelbrainrot · 4 months ago

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❝ leather black and eyes of blue. . . BLUE, BLUE, BLUE 𓂃 ⋄ 🎸 ❞

maisie and matt have always clashed heads with one another. growing up across the street from each other, they’ve never gotten along. maisie’s parents have classified matt as a danger she should stay far away from and she has no problem doing such. it’s not until after she goes to a party his band is playing at that she realizes all she needs is a little bit of alcohol to see that her real problem is the attraction she feels towards him. enemies are still enemies if they’ve slept with one another…right? maisie’s too drunk right now to care about anything she usually would when it comes to someone like matt, so she decides she’s okay with hating herself tomorrow if it means he’ll be on top of her tonight.

words: 7.1k

pairing: matt sturn x fem!oc

context: this is a flashback scene for my original fanfic, so there may be a heap of confusing background characters mentioned if u are reading this as a stand-alone ! guitarist!matt. (he also has shady shit going on) bratty!oc. enemies to lovers but they drunkenly sleep together once and this is them in the car otw to go sleep together. (this is from his perspective so u can kind of tell he’s always wanted her tho) ocs friend = sunny (fem!oc) + sunny = chris’ gf.

story: national anthem

WARNINGS: SMUT, oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v, petname usage (“baby”), nickname usage (“mason”)

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

after the party, when time came for the triplets, their bandmates, and their tag-alongs to pack into the band's van so that they could all leave together, it was decided that matt would not be the driver for once. he is actually just as plastered as the people he usually picks fun at for drinking so much.

it is obvious, however, that the reason being for such has to do with maisie's attendance tonight. sunny had already planned to come home with the triplets, but maisie's intentions were to simply walk across the street to her home after the party. matt just happened to come up lucky in changing her mind with the magic workings of his lips.

now, sunny has scrambled to the very back of the van with chris, and the two are very clearly appreciating their seats next to one another by sucking each other's faces off. maisie and matt are sat in the next row, matt rubbing at his forehead since he's still trying to get his dick to calm down from being around maisie all night as the girl herself seems peaceful in her drunken haze. then nick and roddy sit together, nick tipsy enough to make roddy smile a little more than usual and roddy as sober as always. quinton is driving, and dylan is more occupied with shooting amused looks into the back of the van every five minutes than picking the right songs for aux.

as matt's hard on is finally beginning to subside, maisie sits up a little straighter in her seat to turn and peak around at whatever sunny and chris are doing. matt purposefully keeps his head down as her eyes widen at sunny practically on top of chris, his hands cupping her breasts through her dress in the midst of their passionate make out. they're so slouched over the seats that they're out of most of the passengers' view, and maisie finds herself muttering, "damn," as she turns back around in her seat. she hasn't seen her best friend acting like such a freak in a long time.

she looks down to her lap and realizes she forgot to put her seatbelt on when she climbed into the car. chris and sunny clearly never bothered to do so either, so she isn't really worried about it. she glances over to matt and finds no belt keeping him safe either. her stare lingers though, specifically just on him.

he looks dangerously good tonight—good enough to make her ignore every raging red flag of his which has stopped her from ever getting to this point with him. but now she's next to him in a car with plans to go back to his place, and all she can think about is how bad she wants him. in this moment, it feels worse than anything she has ever wanted before. he's more-so a craving. he's been in the background of her life for ages now, but she's never been this close to him before, and now that she is, she's completely okay with hating herself in the morning.

if she really is finally giving into her deepest, darkest desire, she'll be damned if she doesn't have fun doing so.

she continues to unabashedly stare at him when he starts subconsciously rubbing the edge of his jaw with his hand, his eyes finally jumping to her in the lack of light the car's windows provide around them. his brows pull together slightly at the sight of her already looking at him, his voice low when he quietly asks, "what?"

maisie doesn't know how to answer. she can't come out and say "i just want you," when her ego would never let her say such a thing—not even drunk—but it's all that's floating her mind right now. wordlessly, she bites her lip. she knows it's a pathetic action just because it's in hopes he'll catch her drift, but she sticks by it as his hand drops from his face.

she watches the scrunch between his eyebrows deepen before his tongue darts out to wet his lips. "maisie," his voice has more rasp in it than before, and it has her biting down harder on her lip. his eyes shine extra due to the glimmer of the streetlights passing by through the surrounding windows, and maisie finds herself pushing her legs together at the saliva barely coating his lips being highlighted in her vision.

matt's eyes jump to the tightening of her thighs, noticing it just as the sound of chris and sunny's hushed moans overshadowing the music dylan is playing causes maisie's face to grow flush with some form of anger. it feels like she's missing out on fun she could be having as well when her best friend is getting it on right next to her. swiftly, she lets out a frustrated sigh. "matt," she breathes, turning in her seat to face him.

matt hears the whine in her voice and feels his pupils expand with lust, losing all train of thought as he finally reaches out to touch her. his hand smoothly slides onto her bare thigh, the instant warmth of her skin relieving some of the tension he feels, but not nearly enough. she’s been unattainable in his eyes for so long now through all of her fury, that knowing he can touch her however he likes is almost overwhelming. his hand creeps up further her thigh, reaching the bottom of her tight-fitting dress as his low-lidded eyes peer up to her. he leans his head back against the back of the car seat and softly murmurs, "mason..." the heat radiating off her skin warms him up entirely, and he wishes he could skip to the part where he gets to feel it everywhere.

letting out a mix of a huff and a grunt at matt's gentle whisper, maisie can officially not take this any longer. abruptly, she leans forward and firmly grabs his face with her hands to turn his head towards hers and push their lips together. she can practically feel matt's surprise at her sudden actions, his lips taking a second to catch up to hers. as soon as he's aware of what is happening and adjusted to the feeling of her mouth on his, however, his hand slides off of her thigh in attempt to begin to take control of their positioning.

he sits up as their lips work against one another, turning in his seat to face her as she is him. his back presses against the window behind him as he feels satisfied in their new position, now able to fully focus on maisie all over him. she gets closer and closer to him the deeper their kiss becomes, and matt is desperate to find the best place for his hands, them wandering from her waist, to her hips, to her neck.

once maisie breaks away from him for their first breath of air, she takes a moment to bring her hair behind her shoulders. matt's legs subconsciously spread to lean against the cramped walls of the other seats around them, and he doesn't think anything of the action until maisie is leaning into the space between them. his eyes widen as she comes close to him again, but this time, there is significantly less distance between them with her newfound positioning between his legs. he sucks in a sharp breath when their faces are inches from each other yet again, raising his hands to travel down her backside to the end of her dress.

maisie leans in to connect their lips once more, and this time her hands reside on the back of his neck. the kiss starts off slow, just as matt's hands find her ass, and it feels as if he could memorize the pattern of her lips in this sitting. it quickly grows passionate when her lips part and he smoothly slides his tongue into her mouth, her hands trailing up into the ends of his hair. her fingers slide through his short locks of hair, and he grunts at the way her acrylics scratch his scalp, squeezing her cheeks as a reflex.

it's at this time that his previous problem quickly becomes a reoccurring one. when maisie's hips rock against him sensually, his eyes suddenly snap open. suddenly pulling away from her, his hands slide off of her bottom to her hips instead. he clearly takes her off guard when he attempts to push her back, her eyebrows furrowing and her hands coming atop his to stop him. "what's wrong?" she whispers.

"i'd fuck you in this car if i could. you make me so fucking horny," he says hushedly, maisie's eyes widening almost instantly. she wants to laugh, but she'd be lying if she said she's not in the same boat as him right now, so she remains serious. she presses her lips together as her hands move to rest on the sides of his neck, watching him suck in a breath before whispering lowly, "i don't want anyone to see me hard."

maisie can't fight her wicked grin that follows; he should know by now that, that would only make her feel good. "i don't care," she responds confidently before ignoring his previous hesitancy completely and bringing his lips back to hers.

matt feels the blood shoot to his cock immediately and knows he shouldn't, but he melts so easily into maisie's kiss that it becomes a weakness of his he can not fight. his hands grip onto her ass again, and he can now pick up on how it arouses her by the sloppiness of her kissing when he does it. he continues to do it just to feel her struggle to keep up with him, and pulls away from her with a smirk so that she can catch her breath.

as maisie attempts to get her breathing back to normal speed, she can't help but pay attention to the way matt is pulling her against him. it seems to be something he's doing subconsciously with his hand placement, but it's distinctive to maisie as it causes his crotch to press further into her. their bodies are nearly perfectly aligned with her being between his legs, so feeling his cock hard underneath her has heat going right between her legs.

she bites down on her lip at the pressure of his dick rubbing against her through their clothes, quickly making an effort to try and push herself further onto him. matt's eyes widen at the action not going unnoticed in the slightest, his hands freezing as he looks at her. "what are you doing?"

"i can feel how big you are," she whispers to him lowly, taking pride in the shock of his expression following her bold words. she smiles at the panic which floods his features, surely because her sensual tone adds to his literal growing problem. she leans forward and moves her mouth down to his chin, beginning to kiss there and enjoying the feeling of his heart pounding against her.

"fuck, mason," matt's voice comes out disheveled as her mouth continues to lower down to his neck. he closes his eyes and enjoys the feeling of her sucking on his skin, finding this to be something he's only dreamt of before.

it's not until the music playing that they were barely paying attention to stops and nick loudly calls, "we're here!" that either of two take into account the presence of any other person in the van.

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

matt's dick is in pain and he's not sure it's the pleasant way anymore by the time him and maisie finally make it to his bedroom. he swings the door open and practically rushes for her to come inside, closing it the instant she's inside the room.

he lets out a sigh as he slowly turns around to face maisie and his bed, lifting a hand to quickly run it through his hair. he watches her stop stood in front of his bed and then glance around the room silently. while he expected her to take a moment to analyze his bedroom, of course, he's been fighting to get a real moment alone with her all night, so now that it's here, he just wants to make the most of it. he doesn't have time for this, so he steps forward.

he wraps his arms around her waist from behind, causing her to first tense up before she relaxes at his touch instead—much to his smugness. he lowers his lips to her neck and whispers against her skin, "i've been waiting for this."

maisie's eyes flutter shut at the little trail of kisses he presses into her skin. his lips are so much softer than she ever could have imagined and it makes this all the more worth it. with a deep breath, she maneuvers to spin around in his hold and come face-to-face with him. matt's eyes immediately flicker to her lips with their sudden closeness as she grabs ahold of his jaw. he expects her to pull him in for a kiss, when she instead says, "all i want to do right now is suck your dick."

matt's face practically lights up and it makes her want to laugh out loud. he breaks out into a schoolboy smile and his hands drop to give her ass a squeeze. "whatever you wanna do, baby."

she grins, turning the both of them around so that his back is to the bed rather than hers, and then pushes him back onto it with the shove of her hand. matt watches her with a smirk as he takes his cue to sit at the edge of the bed, his eyes lighting up with danger when she puts both of her hands on his knees to spread his legs before kneeling before him. his own hands move to rub the spots hers previously took after she moves to reach for his belt buckle.

he eagerly watches her undo it and then raises his hips to pull his jeans to his feet for her. he notices her eyes widen at the imprint of his dick through his boxers, his usual length intensified with how hard she's made him. when she sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, he feels his internal thought process break for the millionth time tonight.

she scoots close to him, resting her hands on his thighs and impossibly shooting more blood rushing to his dick. "i wish you had let me known what you were working with earlier, matt," she says lowly, her eyes trailing from him down to his boxers. she leans closer to his dick, keeping her eyes on the area as she finally lifts one of her hands up. she slowly manages to wrap her fingers around a bit of his length, matt's eyes closing at the sensation of finally feeling some relief. "so much time wasted..." she mutters, her other hand joining her current one to begin completely palming him through the fabric of his boxers.

"fuckkkk, mason," matt feels embarrassed in the fact that he already wants to moan, so he lifts his hips and causes her hands to drop. "let me take these off already," he says underneath his breath, not missing her drunken giggle at his rush to get undressed.

her laughter disappears the moment he peels back his boxers, however. matt's dick springs out immediately as he drops his boxers down with his jeans, and he feels smug in the awestruck look which takes over maisie's face. he notices the way she takes in a sudden breath, and the slight narrowing of her eyes as she takes a second to stupidly stare at it.

when her knees drag across the carpet to get as close to him as she needs to be, he grins to himself. he watches her struggle to push all her hair behind her shoulders and refrains from chuckling, deciding to bunch it all in his hands for her. he then feels her appreciation in the small action when her hands finally wrap around the base of his cock. his breath hitches, feeling her spit on the tip to create moisture before she spreads it by beginning to slowly pump his length. his eyes close almost automatically.

he lets go of her hair so that his hands rest on the bed next to each of his sides, giving him weight to lean back on when maisie opens her mouth and smooths her lips out to fit just the tip of his dick into her mouth. he feels her tongue swipe across the top and exhales a grunt, opening his eyes to watch her in action.

slowly, she lowers her head to fit more and more of him into her mouth until she has to lower one of her hands still lightly pumping his base. then, she begins to bob her head up and down, looking up at him to catch the first moan that leaves his mouth. she watches his head go back and feels motivated to only do better.

she picks up speed and matt is quickly pleased, judging by the bucking of his hips as an inaudible grunt falls from his mouth. "yeah," he mutters through breaths, keeping his eyes open through his quiet moaning to maintain eye contact with her. he grabs her hair once more, tightening his grip before becoming unable to fight closing his eyes and throwing his head back any longer. "just like that, mason."

she manages a hum, the vibration being felt on his cock and causing him to instinctively push down her head. maisie drops her only hand still on the base of his length to allow herself to fit as much of him in her mouth that she can with matt's sudden pushing, and in result, an ungodly gag leaves her mouth. the movement causes matt to suddenly lean forward, his lips parting. "fuck," he breathes. "fuck, mason, i'm about to-" he cuts himself off, struggling as his hips instinctively buck forward. maisie's head bobs quicker and quicker as matt closes his eyes, allowing his impending orgasm. "'m gonna cum."

maisie hums yet again, causing matt's grip to tighten further in her hair as the sensation was the last thing he needed. he moans audibly as liquid shoots straight from his tip into the back of maisie's throat, her head raising up and leaving his cock wet as she immediately swallows it all at once. matt grins, very pleased with the sight. "good girl."

she smiles amusedly at him as she catches her breath, raising a hand to wipe the back of her mouth and scooting back on the floor to take a second to breathe. matt feels like he has to catch his breath too, taking the moment to get his boxers back on. he doesn't bother with his jeans, leaving those on the floor with the shoes he also has to take off. that's when he glances over to maisie and notices her shoes still on her feet behind her. he raises his eyebrows. "you just did that with your heels on?"

maisie looks down to her feet, realizing he's right. she was in just a rush as him that she hadn't even noticed. quickly, she slips them off and stands up with a lazy shrug. "i'm a talented girl."

the corner of matt's lips turn upwards for obvious reasons, and he reaches out for maisie's back to pull her towards him still sitting on the bed. "clearly," he says playfully, glancing over her short dress that's been killing him the whole night before asking her, "does this zip?"

when she nods her head, he spins her around and moves her hair to the front for her to hold onto. he then unzips her dress from the top to the bottom, the noise filling up his quiet bedroom. his skin doesn't even touch hers, but he can still feel her warmth from being so close to her.

he spins her back around so that he can see her face, and then he begins to pull her dress off from the back. his eyes stay on her face at first, enjoying the tension in the eye contact, but as he slides the dress down past her chest, his eyes magnetically drop. he bites his tongue at the red lacey bra she has on underneath, feeling turned on all over again at her nipples peaking through the sheer parts of fabric.

matt must have stopped undressing her with the dress halfway down her body, because he can't focus on anything other than her tits until he notices her begin to finish the job for him. his eyes jump down to the rest of the dress sliding down her body, instantly sucking in a breath at the matching panties she has on. of course.

"do you like the red?" maisie asks in a whisper as her dress hits the floor, then stepping out of it and back between matt's legs.

"i love it," he answers unashamedly, his hands sliding from the back of her thighs to her ass—where they linger for an extra moment longer before roaming to her back, and then around to the front of her torso. his eyes roam her body hungrily as if he doesn't know where to explore first. he has a clue though, suddenly standing up from his bed as he rests his hands on her backside. "let me show you."

the corner of maisie's lips turn upwards wickedly, wordlessly nodding her head to comply to his wishes. his grin matches hers before he turns her around, maintaining eye contact as his hands linger around her sides before sliding off completely. maisie feels cold without his touch before he instructs her, "lay down."

maisie smirks, murmuring a playful, "yes, sir," before she turns around to face the bed. she is acutely aware of how this leaves her ass facing him as she crawls onto the bed, a secret smugness building in her chest at the sigh she hears leave his lips from the sight. once she's reached the pillows, she turns so that so she can rest her head back on them. her body is on display right in the center of the bed for matt still stood at the end to admire openly, maisie's ego boosting tremendously with the way he licks his lips. feeling hot and bothered, and ready for him to get on with it already, she tilts her head in the midst of his staring. "are you going to keep that shirt on the whole night or what?"

matt's eyebrows shoot up, amusement swirling in his eyes before he dryly laughs at her comment. the raspiness of the sound has maisie crossing her legs on the bed in anticipation as he is quick to listen to her, reaching for the end of his shirt and swiftly pulling it over his head with one hand. "you've got quite the mouth on you, mason," he says hoarsely as he approaches the bed, watching her prop herself up with the back of her elbows. his knees press against the bottom of the bed as he starts to climb on, a devilish look flooding his features when he teases, "need me to shut you up that badly?"

"i've only been waiting for it all night," she replies pointedly, growing frustrated with the strong want she feels for him.

matt smirks, coming further onto the bed and finally glancing down to her lower half. maisie feels herself grow bashful under his stare, subconsciously pushing her legs further together as his eyes scan over them. he notices the movement and gently places a hand just below her knees, sliding it over her smooth legs crossed together and looking up to her red face. "relax for me," he says softly, removing his hand as maisie nods and slowly begins to uncross her legs.

matt watches her move and waits until she's laid flat so that he can slide his hands underneath her, smoothly sliding them up the back of her thighs and feeling the goosebumps his touch he creates. he looks up to maisie as he continues furthering his hands enough to reach the lace trim of her panties bunched at her hips. he feels the corner of his lips raise when he smoothly slides his fingers underneath the fabric and maisie raises her hips up instinctively, prideful in the way she can't keep her lip out of the in between of her teeth.

he doesn't remove her underwear instantly as she was expecting, and instead, removes his fingers from underneath the sheer fabric completely. maisie huffs in frustration, letting her hips hit the comforter with a grunt as matt chuckles underneath his breath. he wants to take his time with her, so he leans forward after removing his hands from her entirely and moves his focus to the damp area in which the fabric is covering her core.

matt reaches one of his hands out to lightly graze his fingers over her panties, feeling the wetness and inhaling sharply. a smirk plays on his face when he hears maisie's breathing audibly change, and he feels lust take over him entirely when he retracts his hand and his fingers are left damp. he gazes up to maisie's face growing flusher at the minute. "all this for me?" he asks sensually, feeling his dick wake back up after his previous orgasm when he gets somewhat of a whimper in response from her. immediately, he reaches a hand back up to her panties, now feeling her wet folds through the thin fabric and getting his own pleasure in the loud breaths that leave her lips. "you're soaking through your panties, baby."

"can you just fuck me already?" she whines, arching her back to try and relieve some of all the tension she is feeling at the moment. matt's eyebrows raise, removing his hand from her panties and raising both of his hands to her legs instead. maisie whines at this too, surprising matt more and more with the neediness she is not hiding. she pulls her feet up to fold her legs against him as she desperately looks at matt, silently pleading with him when his hands slide up her legs.

"let me make you feel good first," he replies, still set on returning the favor when his words only seem to make her groan in disapproval.

"matt, please," she whines, shaking her head repeatedly as matt feels his jaw go slack. he feels awestruck at the sound of her begging—the sound of her begging for him. finally leaning her head back against the pillows once more, maisie looks at him serious and lust-driven. "i just want you to fuck me."

matt's hands freeze on her legs, the realization hitting him that his dick is as hard as stone in his boxers right now. it feels like the winds been knocked out of him, but he still manages to lean forward into the space between her legs. "are you sure?"

maisie rolls her eyes into the back of her head, taking the initiative to wrap her legs around him completely. "don't make me say it a third time," she says frustratedly, causing matt to finally realize she's being serious.

the fact that he's been given the green light dawning on him, he shoots forward in a quick effort to find her lips. after he situates his hands on the comforter above her head, maisie lets out a relieved grunt the second his mouth meets hers, and desperately reaches her hands around to his back. she grips onto his back muscles for the life of her as he slides his tongue into her mouth, nearly moaning at the broadness of his tattooed body underneath her fingertips.

he draws his lips from hers to give them a moment to catch their breath. "i've wanted this for so long," he just barely murmurs through the loudness of their breathing. and he doesn't even give her long enough to process his comment before his tongue is back in her mouth, making her forget he ever spoke entirely.

maisie sinks her nails into the skin of matt's back and he moans into her mouth, nearly creating a second pulse at her core. instinctively, she tightens her legs around him, causing him to moan again before he breaks their kiss to catch his breath in her neck. maisie feels something pressing into the warmth present between her legs and can't contain her gasp when she realizes what it is. "hard again already?" she can't help but tease, trailing her hands on his back to the end of his neck, and feeling him groan into her neck. "are you usually this easy to get bothered?"

"it's just you," he murmurs his response against her neck, causing her to sigh delightfully. he then begins softly kissing the skin there, maisie's eyes beginning to flutter close at the sensation. when it turns into sucking instead, her hands find their way to his hair.

she grips onto his hair like her life depends on it the more intense his sucking becomes. he purposefully allows his teeth to graze her skin before letting go and pressing a soft kiss to soothe the area. maisie finds herself wanting him more because of his ability to act so tender in such a passionate moment between them. she sucks in a breath as his kisses trail further down to her chest area, looking down to watch him treat her with such care.

as he begins sucking at a spot on her collarbone, one of his hands finally venture to cup her breast for the first time. he squeezes her tit through her bra, causing her to gently moan his name out, "matt." he continues to squeeze the tender area, growing more aggressive as her skin is nicked between his teeth. "matt," she repeats, growing louder in hopes that he'll pick up the pace they're going at.

she hears him let out a frustrated breath against her skin before he raises his head to peer up at her. he slides his hand underneath her bra, watching her breath hitch as he swipes his thumb over her nipple. "can i take this off?" he whispers.

"mhm," she just barely responds, matt smiling smugly before he raises himself up still in between her legs. he allows his hands to travel underneath maisie's torso, keeping his eyes on her as he undoes her bra while he can not see the back. maisie bites down on her lip once it pops undone, both of their gazes lowering immediately with the sound. seeing the sheer fabric grow loose has stars forming in his eyes, and he quickly pulls at it to try getting it off.

maisie raises her arms to get out of the straps when it becomes loose enough, and instantly, matt is only looking at her tits. "my god..." he mutters to himself as maisie tosses her bra onto the pillows behind them.

when she turns her head back around, she can't help but grin at the way he seems so awestruck seeing her naked. her grin is automatically wiped off, however, when matt shoots his hand forward to grip one of her tits bare. she lets out a surprised moan, catching the pleased expression on his face before he dives his mouth right onto her other one. she moans again at him kissing onto her soft skin all the while he continues squeezing and squeezing the other one, desperately bundling some of his hair in her hands. his mouth moves to her nipple, swiping his tongue over the sensitive area to hear her moan, "matt."

it's when maisie's nails begin to scratch at his scalp that his grip on her tit loosens and he grunts against the other one, looking up to see maisie's lustful features. "fuck, i could cum just looking at you," he says with the shake of his head, raising himself up just as she whines in reply to him. he closes his eyes, the sound going straight to his cock. "i need you on top of me," he tells her once he opens his eyes back up, her eyes widening as his hands suddenly slide around her upper back.

his words catch her off guard at first, but the thought of riding him has her complying the second she processes what he said. immediately, she loosens the hold her legs have on him, and he breaks out into a grin at the movement. quickly, he tightens his arms around her before pushing all of his weight to the side, successfully rolling himself onto his back and taking maisie with him.

she readjusts on top of him, moving her legs to where they're comfortable all the while matt feels her up. "that's better," he says more-so to himself. his hands slide up her sides to her bare tits, squeezing there eagerly and grinning a little too excitedly when she finally looks down at him.

it feels like he's staring at a goddess floating before him as he watches her flip her hair behind her shoulders. she lowers her hands down to her waist and matt's eyes follow her every step of the way, knowing she is moving to remove her underwear. he watches her bundle it up at the sides, sending chills down his spine when she looks at him before pulling it down. she brings it to her knees, then removing it from each of her legs one by one before throwing the red fabric onto the floor.

once maisie lowers her hips and rests her weight against him, matt immediately sucks in a breath at the feeling of her core right against the ache in his boxers. "oh shit," he instinctively begins to sit up, attempting to get a better look at her on top of him. "i can feel you—“ he struggles with the overwhelming sensation at his crotch. "fuck, i can feel how wet you are on my—“

"shhhh," maisie shushes his lust-driven ramble, forcing him to lay back with the push of her hand. his eyebrows shoot up to his forehead at her boldness, the twitch in his boxers leading her to believe that she just turned him on more. taking in a deep breath before, she suddenly pushes her hips forward to create more pressure between them. matt's jaw drops, barely containing his moan as maisie lets hers free. his eyes jump all over her face as she throws her head forward, looking at him to say, "you already feel so good, matt."

matt lets out a groan full of pent up sexual frustration, desperately gripping onto her hips and following her lead to pull her further against him. she closes her eyes, continuing to throw her head forward as she hears matt murmur through his own muffled moans, "just wanna be inside you."

maisie gasps as he pulls her against him more and more roughly. her need for him only growing worse and worse, she finally cries out, "okay, stop, stop, stop!" matt stops abruptly, his movements freezing at her sudden exclaim. she opens her eyes to find his expression panicked, so she simply catches her breath, diminishing his worries when she scoots back to give herself access to his boxers. matt internally calms himself once she begins messing with the waistband.

once she pulls the fabric down, matt's cock springs out immediately, causing him to sigh of relief. maisie is as quick as she can be when dragging his boxers down his legs, but matt shakes his head, urging her to stop with his nagging at her hips. "not enough time, baby," he mutters, catching her attention once she gets it just past his knees. she sighs and immediately gives up with his permission.

focusing her attention back on his hard dick stood stiff in front of her, she takes in a sharp breath. her eyes jump to the precum leaking out of his tip and reaches forward to swipe it off with her thumb. matt's hands instantly tighten at the sides of her hips, and maisie raises her thumb to her mouth, then sucking it agonizingly slow. "for fucks sake, maisie," he throws his head back against the pillows, causing her to smirk when he impatiently complains, "don't tease me, just fucking ride me."

"sure," she replies simply, smiling smugly before she slides her hands onto his stomach. he lets out a relieved sigh at the touch, watching her use him to hold her own weight up long enough to line herself up with him. she straightens her posture as she hovers above him, reaching down for his cock with one of her hands and aligning it perfectly with her core. matt is already softly moaning at the sensation of his tip being right at her entrance, forcing himself to nod his head when she slides her hand back to her other one on his stomach and looks to him for the go ahead.

slowly, maisie lowers herself onto his length, immediately overwhelmed with her own pussy stretching out to fit him. "oh my god," she gasps as his tip sinks into her, closing her eyes automatically as her mouth stays agape while forcing herself to continue. "fuck, matt, fuck, oh my go—" she continues to moan the further inside her he gets, instinctively opening her eyes as she gasps again the more she feels him stretch her out. "you're so big," she manages through her struggling, her hands sliding up his stomach as she finally fits all of him inside her. he's the biggest she's ever had, that's for sure.

"yeah, baby?" matt responds, his hands sliding up her abdomen as she instantly nods her head for him. she forces herself back up his length, and he smiles at her face of concentration, no longer able to resist himself before starting to readjust them so that he can sit up. he leans his back against the headboard so that he can get a better view of her, and maisie adjusts herself on his lap, her eyes rolling into the back of her head at his dick moving inside with her. he buries his face into her neck now that he can, whispering praise against her skin, "you feel so good." he hears a moan escape her and kisses her skin right as she begins to lower herself on him again. "so fucking tight," he exhales deeply as all of him fits inside her more quickly this time.

maisie lets out a pleased noise at his compliments, thanking him by beginning to pick up her speed now that she can grip onto his shoulders. she pushes his length in and out of her using all of her upper body strength, and the effort is immediately noticed, matt's hands desperately cupping her bouncing breasts as his breathing is hot on her neck—moans included and all. "so good, mason," his voice is barely heard through their loud breaths, but it's all maisie can hear, leaving her to moan as she pushes herself down onto him completely. an ungodly moan falls from his mouth. "so. fucking. good," he says through breaths.

maisie's moans seem to grow higher and higher, and hurried and more hurried the longer she goes on riding him. "oh, matt," she says through moans, leading matt to raise his head from the crook of his neck to take a look at her pre-orgasm face. seeing her all red and open-mouthed has him moaning extra as he leans his head back onto his headboard. "oh my god, matt."

dropping his hands from her breasts to her hips, he sees her nearing a climax and wants to help her get there. without a warning, he decides to switch their positioning by swiftly connecting their lips for a heated kiss. the sudden movement causes her to lose momentum in riding him as she tries to keep up with kissing him instead, and it grants him the perfect opportunity to lift himself up and turn her so that she'll switch places with him.

she breaks away from him when her back suddenly hits the bed, her eyes shooting open in surprise to find him now smirking down at her. "surprise, mason," he teases. her lips part in shock as his single chain hangs down in her face. she glances at his hands, which have found their place resting above her head, before she looks back to his prideful expression.

she sucks in a sharp breath, deciding to let him successfully silence her when he starts pushing himself in and out of her ferociously. his thrusts are full of much more force, causing maisie's claws to immediately dig straight lines into his back. "fuck, matt," she gets out through moans all in which matt keeps his eyes open to see. "oh, fuck, matt." the way her eyes close as her face scrunches up is getting him there just as much as her pussy. "i'm so— i— i'm—“

"i know, baby," he speaks breathily, finally closing his eyes to focus on his thrusting so that they'll both get there together. "me too."

he hits just the right spot for maisie to let out an ungodly moan underneath him, feeling her retract a hand from his back before it reaches out to instead grab the single charm hanging from his chain. his eyes shoot open just in time to see her breathily moan once more before she's pulling his lips down to hers. matt welcomes the action immediately, his tongue quickly passing through to her mouth. she's very sloppy with her kissing, and he takes that as a challenge, quickly speeding up his thrusts to feel her struggle more against him.

he can tell now that her orgasm is right around the corner, as her moans become the loudest they have all night. he chuckles against her lips, muttering, "trying to wake up the whole house, huh?" as he feels her grip on his chain tighten.

"shut u-up," she manages through the moans she begins to attempt to muffle, only amusing matt further as he watches her ride out her impending high. she forces her eyes open to get a good look at his smug face, their mouths still on top of each other as matt hits the right spot for the second time. unable to fight her eyes rolling back into her head, she moans into his mouth, "i'm about to— 'm gonna cum."

"keep moaning into my mouth like that and we both will," he replies to her without missing a beat, his own eyes screwing shut as he means his words completely. he can feel his movements grow sloppy as he roughly pounds in and out of her, his own climax coming just as hers is.

matt feels his orgasm nearing as maisie reaches hers while he is still inside of her, her hands meeting one another desperately at the back of his neck. she cries out matt's name repeatedly through all of her hushed moans, sending him right to the point he needs to get to. "louder, mason," he breathes through his own moans, his thrusts growing weaker as her chanting his name grows louder. "fuck, i need to— c-can i—“

"fill me up, baby," she interrupts him once she predicts his words, massaging his scalp with her nails as he immediately closes his eyes due to the pet name.

the sound of her calling him baby sends him into overdrive, managing a few more weak thrusts in and out of her before he defeatedly drops his head into her neck at the feeling of his hips bucking forward. he grips onto her sides roughly as he finishes inside her, muffling his moans into her neck until he's able to finally pull himself out of her completely and roll over onto his back.

the two lay there wordlessly for a few minutes to catch their breaths, and when matt finally turns his head to look at her, he's taken off guard by the sight of her bare breasts all over again. instantly, he looks away. "you've gotta cover up before i start trying for another round."

"gross," maisie instantly responds, spreading a grin across matt's face at her usual self coming back out to play so fast. he watches her get up from the bed, completely enthralled by her naked body, and raises his eyebrows when she turns to face him with her arms covering her tits. "where do you keep your clothes?"

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

WELLLLL THAT WAS CRAZY! literally half of this is them just moaning fuck. sry i physically can’t deal w pet names in every line it kills me. and i feel like this is way too detailed it's just the way i write :/

hopefully this gives u all some insight into why matt is so obvious w how bad he wants maisie cus THAT WOMAN LITERALLYYYY MATCHES HIS FREAK. regular maisie and drunken maisie on tumblr r 2 diff breeds i fear…

not sure why i forgot condoms exist in this so just go ahead and pretend maisie’s on the pill for me pls n ty 💖

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #smut #sturniolo smut #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturn #national anthem fanfic

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