#at least my tab was taken care of

[scorpiiihoee]

Going to a shady dive bar just to have a 44 year old man come up to me and tell me that I could have any man I wanted in the bar including himself>>

[gojonanami]

I WANNA SHOW YOU OFF - SATORU GOJO

✴︎ summary: aka sugar daddy! gojo. when you accompany your friends to a bar rich men and women frequent, you catch the eye of a certain white-haired rich man, who is more than willing to spoil you -- in more than one way. ✴︎ contents: 18+, a lot of smut, fluffy, sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, virgin!reader, fingering (f!receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), but w/ feelings, semi-public sex, sex in a changing room, lingerie, nipple play, first time sex ✴︎ wc: 9,065

This had to be the dumbest idea you had let yourself be convinced to do. 

You sat in a bar, nursing a soda instead of a drink (because it was all you could afford), and you glanced at your group of friends who had all split off to chat up a different man. And meanwhile, there you were, at the bar alone. 

Your friends had seen a video or article online with a list of places that rich men tended to frequent, and after another dinner of instant ramen and looking at your dwindling bank account, you let yourself be dragged along to this bar.

You were surprised how easy it was for you all to be let in, but you supposed young clientele also helped to attract the rich ones the bar was really after. It was the perfect place to find a sugar daddy, or mommy. In your case, you were hoping to just find someone who would pay your bills month to month and possibly your tuition. But now you were just hoping someone would talk to you, much less anything else. 

You had sat here for about twenty minutes, and not a single person had approached you — you had felt a few men and women alike eye you, but none had spoken even a word to you. Heat crept up your cheeks and insecurities bit at your nerves as you stirred your drink absentmindedly — you were such an idiot— you should have just stayed in today, snuggled up in bed and watched Netflix—

“Mind if I sit here?” And your gaze snaps from your flat soda, ocean blue eyes stopping your breath in its tracks, his lips curled in all too tempting smile, and his snowy locks just tousled enough to look natural. 

“Not at all,” you manage to say, surely you were gonna catch flies if you didn’t pick up your jaw off the floor. He was gorgeous — as he slid into the stool beside you, his baby blue button up showed off his toned physique, his sleeves rolled up, as he looked over the menu. 

“Can I order you a drink?” a smile on his lips as he offered you the menu — non-presumptuous and didn’t order your drink for you — was he even real? 

“Just another soda, I don’t drink often, and I’m the designated driver for tonight,” though, as you glanced at your groupchat, you didn’t think many of your friends would be making it back tonight, at least not with you. 

“A woman after my own heart— two sodas please,” he ordered, “I’m not a huge fan of alcohol either. I prefer things that are sweet,” and his gaze slides over your body, “are you?” 

And you flush, trying to look nonchalant as your drinks arrive, “Take a guess,” and he hums, as he takes a careful sip of his drink, eyeing you. 

“Oh sweetheart, I don’t guess — I intend to know,” your eyes snap to his, playful mirth in his eyes, “and if you have a price, I’m more than willing to pay it,” he places his platinum credit card on the bar, sliding it to the bartender, “start a tab for me and the beauty right here,” he flashed a wink at you. 

Even though this is exactly what you had come “You don’t have to—“ 

“But I want to,” he leans forward, his lengthy fingers brushing against your hand, giving you ample time to withdraw, but you don’t, your fingers intertwining with his, his thumb rubbing against your knuckles, “you deserve to be taken care of, sweetheart,” 

You bite your lip, “and how do you know that? You don’t know me,” 

And he tilts his head, a wry grin on his face, “I know enough, baby, and I know that I want to be the one to take care of you,” he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing it against your palm, “now what do you say? I’m sure we can reach an agreement that you’d enjoy,” and his other hand brushes your thigh lightly, “and that I’d enjoy as well,” 

Your lips part as you stare at him — he could have anyone he wanted, that much was clear — the wealth, the affluence, not to mention his charm and looks — but he wanted you. 

And who were you to say no? 

He dropped you home that night, having his driver fetch your car for you after. You both sat in the back of his town car, his hand resting on your thigh, as he spoke to you, his breath warming your skin, as he leaned against you. He didn’t ask to come in or to take you to his place, instead he helped you out of his car, walking you to your apartment’s doorstep. His fingers resch inside his coat pocket, and handed you his business card, his personal number scrawled on the back. 

His fingers ghost over your jaw, as he tilts your chin up, the low buzz of the overhead light drowned out by your heart thumping against your ribcage, “Call me, ok?” And you nod wordlessly, breath hitching as he drew close. 

“Good girl,” he smiled, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead, “I’ll talk to you soon,” he winks, before heading back to his car, “you won’t regret it.” 

But here you sat, staring at his business card the next morning, the only proof that what happened wasn’t a dream, as you lie awake, staring at the number typed into your phone. 

Satoru Gojo. 

How do you do this? Hey it’s the person you hit on at a bar and propositioned to be a sugar baby? 

But you couldn’t get him out of your head — it wasn’t just the money, he was…smooth. 

Fuck it. 

You go to text him, but fate is cruel, and you hit the call button by mistake. You end the call quickly, and contemplate throwing your phone out the window, when your phone starts flashing with the exact number you had called. 

Double fuck. 

You panicked, as it rang, then taking a breath and picking the call up, “Hello?” 

“Gotta hand it to you, sweetheart, didn’t think you’d be so bold to call me,” Satoru is chuckling over the line, the sounds of the road in the background, and it was clear he was driving somewhere, “but it’s a pleasant surprise,” 

“Is it?” you ask, and he hums, a noise that sends heat across your cheeks. 

“Very,” he cuts to the chase, cutting over any of the silence that could linger, “could we have dinner tonight?” 

“Tonight?” 

“I don’t like to waste time when it comes to things I want,” and you’re glad he can’t see you — your knuckles pressed against your lips, “are you free?” 

“I am,” you say slowly, “but I wanted to ask, after dinner what would the expectations be?” You had no idea how any of this worked, what the arrangement would be, or how it would be handled. 

“There are no expectations except for your time,” he says, “we can take this at your pace, your rules, your limits - we are getting to know each other, and we both happen to want more, I’d be more than happy to make that happen,” and his words nearly make you shiver, “does that sound good, princess?” 

“Perfect,” you murmur, and he chuckles, “what time—” 

“7:00 PM — I’ll send a car for you. I have your address noted, and I have a little dress picked out for you if you’re comfortable with that?” 

You hold your burning cheeks, “Sounds too good to be true,” 

And he hums, “Well, perfect,” he echoes you, “because that’s what we both are.” 

The car is prompt when picking you up, and your roommates help you get ready — thoroughly jealous when they see a selfie the two of you had taken that night. And then the doorbell rings, and the three of you are rushing towards the door. 

“Tell us everything don’t miss a detail,” your roommates yell-whisper, “hot, charming, and so rich? I hate you,” 

And you shush them opening the door, as Satoru stands in a blue button up, simple slacks, and a grin that made your knees nearly buckle, “Well I am rich, she ain’t lying,” he offers you a bouquet of flowers — your favorites, all arranged perfectly, “and I’d like to think I’m the others as well,” 

“Satoru, they’re beautiful,” you inhale their scent, before you furrow your brow, “how did you know—“ 

“Lucky guess,” he smiled, fingers finding your own, “I guess we have the same taste in flowers, beautiful — great minds,” and he plucks the flowers and hands it to your roommates, “please take care of these, and I’ll be sure to take care of your gorgeous friend,” 

And he’s whisking you into the car, opening the door for you, as he slides in beside you, his arm sliding behind you, “do you mind?” 

And your heart squeezes, he’s so close, you could smell his cologne — a musky, amber smell mixed with his own scent — his strong arm brushing against your back, and as you peered up at him, a smile on his parted lips, as he stared at you with his cerulean gaze. 

“Not at all.” 

God, you were in trouble. 

“How’d you like this to work, sweetheart?” And you nearly choke on your drink at his blunt question, dinner now finished, as the two of you wait for dessert, his lips curled in his perfect smile as always, “I just want us to have an understanding, so I don’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable,” 

You shake your head, “No, you’re right,” dinner had gone on fine — the restaurant he picked was impeccable, the prices must have been astronomical (not a single price on the menu itself), and the atmosphere of the corner booth gave the perfect illusion of privacy, “we should talk about it,” 

The financial aspect is simple enough — he offers a stipend that was more money than you could fathom and even consider accepting — but after discussion, you settle on him paying for your tuition and other educational needs as well as a monthly stipend. 

“But this doesn’t include anything I choose to treat you to,” he smiles, fingers toying with the hem of the dress, making you almost shiver under his touch, “like this dress or this dinner,” 

“Fine,” you smile, gaze still shying away, “there’s still the matter of what I do for you,” you bite your lip, swirling your drink in its glass, “I’ve never done this before,” you admit, tucking a stray strand behind your ear, and he tilts his head. 

“Nooo, I would have mistaken you for a pro,” he teases, and your cheeks flush, as you sip your drink, mostly for bravery  — that was true, you had never done the sugar daddy thing — but that wasn’t what you meant. 

“I mean that too, I’ve never had this sort of arrangement, but,” you toy with the napkin spread across your lap, “I’ve also never…been with anyone before,” 

And he pauses mid-sip of whatever fruity drink he had ordered — more juice than alcohol (he didn’t prefer the taste of liquor), “At all?” 

You flush, swallowing thickly, as your eyes looked down at your lap, “I’ve been on dates, but never beyond hand holding — I’ve never let it get beyond that,” you never had much an interest, and the people you were interested in had never truly reciprocated— until, you glance at Satoru, now. 

He sets his glass down, his lips curled, “but with us — you think there’s a chance that—“ and you squirm under his gaze, “of well—“ 

And his gaze softens, “You never have to feel obligated to do that — no matter what we agree on for what I can do to help accommodate you, I don’t want you to feel like I’m paying a price for your body,” before he adds with a cheeky smile, “unless that turns you on,” 

You huff a laugh out, chewing on your lip, “I appreciate that, but,” you finish the rest of your drink, before sliding closer in the booth, your thigh pressing against his, “I want to know what it’s like,” and you lean forward, all too close, but he dares even closer. 

His fingers find your jaw, tilting your gaze up, “And you’re sure, Princess?” his breath warms your lips, and you can smell the sweet smell of his drink on his, “there’s no rush,” 

“Who said anything about rushing?” you murmur, and you don’t know if it's the intoxication from the alcohol or from Satoru Gojo himself, but your lips graze his first, barely even. Your lips parted as you brushed your lips for a moment, before sliding away a centimeter, “Satoru—”

But his lips find yours again, fingers cupping your cheek gently, thumb gliding along the soft slope of your cheekbone, “You’re right, you’re not something to be rushed,” he murmurs, words as smooth as velvet, “you’re something to be savored,” and his lips slide against yours, swallowing your gasp as he deepens the kiss with the tilt of your heads, before he’s pulling away, allowing you a moment, “does that mean I’m your first kiss?” 

And you nod, with kiss ruined lips parted and chest rising and falling, eyes half lidded with pleasure and excitement — all of which makes him want to kiss you breathless, kiss you silly until you have no thoughts but of him, “I’m sure I’m not yours,” you tease, a small smile on your lips, but a slight anxiety about your inexperience lingering in your words. 

He only chuckles, wrapping his arm around you to draw you closer, one hand cupping your jaw and the other sliding through your locks, “But you’re the only one that matters, sweetheart,” and he’s kissing you again, and your lips begin to learn the dance he was teaching you, as he steals your breath and sense in one fell swoop. And when his tongue asks for entrance, he swallows your gasp with a smile, as you part your lips for him. And you swear you almost hear him murmur, “good girl,” between fevered kisses and touches.

Now, his body leaning into you, pressing you against the plush leather of the booth, his hand rested on your thigh now, toying with the hem of the very same dress he had bought you, “Satoru,” you sigh, as your lips finally part a moment, foreheads resting against each other. His eyes take you in, kiss bitten red lips, your cheeks flushed. 

His lips kiss your cheeks, and then your forehead, “I think I should take you home,” his thumb rubs against your lips, pulling at the bottom one.

“What about dessert?” and he shakes his head. 

“There’s only one dessert I’m craving at the moment,” he murmurs, crystal eyes lidded with lust, as he cups your cheek, “and I wouldn’t be keeping my promise if I indulged, now would i?” 

“And if I offered…dessert?” and he makes a noise — a cross between a hiss and a sigh, before shaking his head. 

“I want to do this right,” he murmurs, “I know this isn’t a relationship, but it’s like one — and I want you to enjoy it, and if we rush into things, you may end up getting hurt, and not in the enjoyable way,” he pinches the soft flesh of your thigh teasingly, “let’s get you home, princess, and we can plan our next outing, and our next step,” 

And you rise, as he helps you out of the booth, as the waiter comes over, “Have you changed your mind about dessert?”

Satoru hands him his card, paying off the tab without even a glance at the receipt, “Yes, I had something far more sweeter and satisfying,” he winks at you, as he pockets his card again. He escorts you to the car, hand resting on the small of your back, his side pressed to yours, as if he was afraid you’d slip away any moment. 

The car ride home was spent with quiet conversation and stolen kisses, your hand slid up his thigh to tease him, as his lips slide over a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, both of you moaning lowly, as he stares at you with lidded eyes, “You sure you’ve never done this before?” 

“Promise,” you flush, a rush of pride settling into heat as you saw the way he looked at you, before your lips find his again, “but you make me never want to stop,” and he growls lowly, leaning forward his hand snaking around your waist to nearly pin you down on the seat. 

“Say more words like that and I may lose the hint of self control I have,” he groans, and he’s kissing you again, his tongue slipping into your mouth again, as you slide your hand into his hair, finding smoothness underneath his white locks — an undercut, fuck. 

“Maybe I want you to,” you murmur, and he pulls back to look at you with his crystal gaze, dark pools of lust that made you shiver, his fingers digging into your waist. 

“Don’t tempt me,” and he’s about to kiss you again, when the driver clears his throat, and the two of you glance out the tinted window and realize you have arrived back home. And the fact of the matter was the car hadn’t been moving for quite some time. 

You bite your lip, “Do you want to—” 

And he kisses you softly, his fingers tracing over your jaw, “I want to, but we should take this slow,” he presses another kiss to your cheek that only serves to make me pout, “it will be worth it,” and he leans in to kiss your other cheek, but you turn your head to meet his lips in another kiss, making his breath catch, as you pull away with a smirk. His lips parted, as his gaze darkens, “such a tease, princess — I was thinking you were an angel that I was corrupting, but maybe you’re the one doing the corrupting.” 

“As I should be,” you grin, before pulling open the door, moving to slide out of the car, “call me?” 

“If I don’t, I can always count on you calling me first,” he teases with a wink, “I’ll call tomorrow, dream of me, ok?” 

“And if I don’t?” and he laughs, leaning forward with that smile that always made your heart stammer in your chest. 

“Oh, you will.” 

“Satoru,” you whined, “can we—” 

“So impatient,” Satoru chides, chuckle rumbling from his chest, voice deliciously raspy from the makeout session they had just had, “forgot how needy you are, baby,” 

And how could you not be? Splayed across his lap, your back pressed to his chest, thighs spread across his now very damp slacks, your dress riding up on either side as his hands slid up your bare legs, his touch teasing enough to have you on edge, your panties growing more drenched by the moment. 

“I need—” 

“You don’t know what you need,” Satoru murmurs, as his fingers brush your hair aside, “do ya, baby? You just want—” and his fingers finally tease your inner thigh, “more, don’t you? Such a greedy little princess,” 

“Only for you,” and that makes him groan in your ear, his lips pressing a kiss behind it, before sucking at your earlobe, “please, Satoru,”

“We have a shopping trip planned, baby, gotta get you some new clothes for our little vacation, don’t we?” He hums, his fingers toying with the edge of your panties, “especially since you keep ruining all of yours,” 

“You’re the one ruining them, baby,” you pout, your lips pressing wet kisses along his jaw, “I know we promised to take it slow, but please, I’ve been so good— don’t I deserve a little reward?” 

He hums, two fingers pulling and snapping the elastic of your panties against your skin, “Let’s go shopping and I’ll see about your reward, Princess,” and your lips purse, as he chuckles, lips pressing against yours, “don’t worry it will be worth the wait.” 

And it was. 

That was how you ended up in this particular predicament, pressed against a changing room wall, the black dress he had insisted on you trying on for him, hiked up around your waist, as his thumb pressed against your puffy clit. 

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it, pretty baby?” Satoru coos, his finger beginning to press against the growing wet patch on your panties, “wanted to reward you, and you look so pretty and perfect in this dress, how can I resist?” 

And a whine leaves your throat, and he tuts, “Not so loud, don’t want the other shoppers to hear what we’re doing,” and his fingers finally pull aside the crotch of your soaked underwear, “you’re so fuckin’ wet, baby, you sure this pussy is a virgin?” 

“Satoru, please,” and he pulls your lips into a sloppy kiss, all tongue and teeth, right as his finger finally sinks into your needy cunt. He swallows your moans eagerly, as his thick finger curls against your gummy walls, reaching places you were never able to by yourself. 

“So fuckin’ tight, sweetheart, gonna break my finger, how would I fit my cock in this tight cunt?” And he drags his bulge against your ass, making you gasp at the size of it, “Gonna have to stretch it out, make you nice and loose for me,” 

“Fuck,” you whisper, and he’s grinning as his lips press sweet kisses against your neck, his finger pumping in and out slowly, your slick squelching as he does, finger brushing against that spot that has your knees nearly buckling, “Satoru, I—“ 

“Already gonna cum, baby?” he’s humming, while your lips try and fail to pout, mouth falling open in a silent moan as your walls flutter around his finger, as he fucks you through your orgasm.

But he’s not stopping, as your hand reaches for him, he’s caught you by the wrist, a second finger sinking into your dripping cunt now, “not done with you yet, pretty baby, I know you got more left for me,” he’s scissoring and stretching your walls - curling his fingers just right so he hits that special spot of yours. And it isn’t long until you’re cumming again, his hand covering your mouth, muffling your moan as you ride his fingers. 

“Satoru, please,” you’re nearly crying from the overstimulation, but you’re refusing to use your safe word, as he guides you and him to the seat in the fitting room, sitting on his lap right across from the mirror. 

“Look at you, all fucked out and pretty for me,” his fingers under your chin forces you to look at yourself —- your cunt dripping and spread open, his fingers plunged inside you still, your slick dripping down his hand, “so perfect for me,” he murmurs, “think you have one more for me?” 

His fingers move slowly, parting your walls, making you gasp, “Too sensitive,” you whine, but he’s sliding your lips against yours again, as his fingers begin to push into you, “Satoru,” 

“C’mon baby, this is your reward,” he’s grinning against your lips, “just relax and enjoy it,” 

And you don’t know how many more times he makes you cum. By the end, the dress you’re wearing was ruined, damp from the cum dripping down your thighs, “Don’t worry, I’ll pay for it,” he’s cleaning you up, before sliding your underwear back into place, “now let’s find some other clothes for you, baby — need to get you out of this dress now, don’t we?” 

“Do you want to stay over?” Satoru murmurs, his lips pressed to your neck, making you pause, “I’d stay over at your place, but with your roommates we’ll have an audience,” and he adds, “unless you’re into that,” 

And you roll your eyes, before smiling, “what would staying over entail?” 

“Anything you’d want it to,” he’s kissing your cheek, and then your jaw, and then your lips,“I just want to wake up with you — maybe make breakfast together, maybe a little more if you want to,” 

“That sounds perfect,” and you knew just what you wanted for breakfast. 

“Princess,” he hissed, his ocean blue eyes half lidded as he stared at you between his thighs, “this isn’t what I meant when I said I’d make you breakfast,” 

And you pressed a kiss to his weeping tip — you never expected a cock to be so pretty — but why wouldn’t it be on Satoru Gojo? If a higher being existed, it gave with both hands when it came to him — the tip was flushed red, every vein and curve was perfect, and it was so long. 

“Well this was exactly what I had in mind,” you grinned, your tongue flicked against his slit, collecting the pearl of precum resting there, “couldn’t wait to taste you, Toru — if I couldn’t have you fuck my cunt, I might as well have you fuck my mouth,” 

He swallows thickly at your words, adam’s apple bobbing, crystalline pools clouded with lust, “Careful what you wish for, Princess,” 

“I’m always careful,” you suckle at the swollen tip of his cock sloppily, drawing a moan from his lips. It was clear you were inexperienced — your lips and tongue were clumsy, your fingers grasping at his base were unsure, but the heat in your eyes only made all of your inexperience all the more arousing, “tell me what to do,” 

And Satoru swallows thickly, eyes fluttering down at you, as his lips slowly curl, “start by sucking at the tip, slowly at first,” and you do just as he says, all too eager, making him liable to cum on the spot, “now trace the slit at the tip with your tong—” and he grunts as you’re already doing as he says before his sentence is done, “good girl,” and the praise sends a wave of heat through your body, your needy cunt growing wetter by the second.

“Now, want you to slide my cock into your mouth, mind your teeth,” he warns, “no rewards for bad girls who bite my dick — that’s a lesson for a different day,” he adds with a wink, making you hum around his cock, making it twitch, as you take more of his length, slowly sliding it further into your warm mouth. 

He’s grunting, holding himself back from fucking your mouth then and there — there would be time for that, but right now, he needed to teach you right. 

He was a teacher — first and foremost. 

“Just like that, pretty,” he’s moaning, his fingers gently gripping your head, guiding your mouth up and down his cock, “that’s it — fuuuuck—” and he’s hissing when your fingers toy with his balls, as your tongue traces over his veins, forcing every muscle in his thighs from having you deep throat his cock then and there, “now can you—” 

And you suck at his cock, lips wrapped around, as you stare up at him, eyes lidded with lust, thighs pressed together, as you slurped at his cock, your tongue flicking at his slit, “baby, you sure you’ve never done this before?” and his hips begin to stutter against you, making you gasp around his length, “so fucking perfect for me, baby — know what I like without even trying,” 

And how is he this fucking close already? Is he the virgin or are you? His hips roll into your mouth shallowly, your fingers finding what couldn’t fit in your mouth and stroking it, all while his fingers grasp at the mussed sheets below him, “fuck, sweetheart, ‘m s’close,” and you’re only re-doubling your efforts, cheeks hollowing around him, “you don’t have to—“ but you suck at the tip, tongue laving at his length, and he’s spurting his load down your throat. 

His head falls back, as his hips stutter into your mouth, fingers tugging at your hair, drawing a moan from your lips. And his half lidded eyes falling to your lips around his cock, his cum slipping down the corner of your mouth as you continue to swallow.

“Fuck, baby,” he’s panting, hissing at the sight of you as you pull your lips away from his length, strings of his cum and your spit connecting your mouth to his cock, “such a good fucking girl,” he says, nearly a growl, “my good fucking girl,” 

You’re smiling up at him, watery eyes, as your tongue darts out to clean up his release from your mouth, making his breath catch, “You taste so good, Toru,” and god, you’re so cute — he wanted to spoil you, buy you the whole world and more, and he catches your thighs rubbing together — but first— 

And he’s manhandling you, fingers sinking into your thighs and he’s flipping you onto your back, his chest still heaving, sweat glistening on his forehead, and a grin on his lips. 

“My turn,” he murmurs, sliding his lips against yours, tongue tasting his release on your mouth, before kissing down your body, before he’s settling between your thighs. 

—he was going to have his breakfast. 

The semester wore on and Satoru became more and more busy with work. His messages became few and far between, and your time together dwindled to nothing. Although he still sent the stipend each month, you found your thoughts wandering to him far too often — daydreams between paragraphs of reading and review for an exam that you didn’t particularly care about. 

This should be the dream right? Money for essentially no effort. You had long forsaken the days of ramen noodle dinners and scraping by on your loans — you should be happy. You could go where you wanted, do what you wanted — but why was the only place you wanted to be was with Satoru? You pulled out your phone, refreshing the notifications over and over as if it would change the outcome — but it didn’t — still no new messages from him. 

Was he really busy with work? Anxiety begins to creep into your mind — or was he busy with someone else? Had he been hanging onto you on the back burner — waiting for someone better to come along? You open Satoru’s text chain — the last message sent was your own — and you chew on your bottom lip. 

Were you about to break your own rule about double texting? 

You type — Hey, just wanted to check on you. Been thinking about you a lot. 

You delete it. Is this desperate? What if he thinks you’re desperate? You’re running your hand over your face, pressing your knuckles against your lips.  

Fuck it. You type the same message and send it. 

Oh, it’s worse. Texting and having to wait for a response is worse — and now you simultaneously want to constantly check your phone and also chuck it in a lake. You lay back on your bed, turning and burying your face in your pillow. 

What the fuck were you doing? 

Several hours pass, and you place your phone in the kitchen, as you sit in your room, trying to focus on studying for your exams, instead of thinking about whether Satoru texted you back or not. You finally allow yourself a break at dinner time, and wander out, spotting a few texts from Satoru. Your heart squeezes as you pick up your phone and check. 

Hey baby, is that your way of saying you miss me? 

Because I miss you too. 

When’s your last exam? 

You bite back a smile — it’s on this Friday — I’ll be done at 6:00 PM. 

He types, and then stops, then types again, and then stops. Then he sends a simple “ok.” 

And you don’t hear from him again, which only makes the rest of the week a delight to get through. You’re sure you scraped by on your exams — Friday didn’t come soon enough, but it had arrived. You stretch as you leave the exam hall — bundled up in your jacket, as you make your way back to your apartment. But only, you're not the only one outside the building. 

Satoru stands, leaning against the side of the car, eyes on his phone as he stands in a long deep gray winter coat, a cream sweater underneath, looking utterly too perfect. He glances up, cerulean blue eyes finding yours, lips curling in a smile that you hoped was only reserved for you. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” and you’re holding yourself back from running, quickly walking over, and he’s closing the gap as well, pulling you into his arms, his arms sliding over your jacket — “is this all you’re wearing? We need to buy you a warmer coat,” 

“Satoru,” you’re shaking your head at his priorities, your fingers sliding over his front before sliding them under his jacket, “what are you doing here?” 

“Well, my project finished up earlier today, so I spent the day preparing a little surprise,” he’s tilting your chin up, leaning down to brush his lips against your jaw, and you shiver — most assuredly not from the cold, “we’re going on a trip,” 

“A trip?” you blink, utterly too distracted by his lips placing wet kisses up and down your jaw, nearing your lips, but always stopping short, “where—” 

“A hot spring — I thought we could use some rest and relaxation,” his lips hover right over your own, his thumb dragging down your bottom lip, “and some privacy — I reserved us a private hot spring,” and his palms slide down to your hips and squeeze, “just you and me,” 

“That sounds amazing — wonder what else you have planned,” your lips lean up and brush against his, making his curl into a smile, and your heart stirs — god, you didn’t care about the money, about the amenities, about the dates — he could have just taken you for a walk and you’d be happy by his side, “I missed you so much, Toru,” 

And he’s kissing you again, his hand sliding back to hold the back of his neck, deepening the kiss before he pulls away. You’re panting as he does, lips kiss bitten red, “I did too, baby, it was so difficult being without you — kept thinking about seeing you. I had to hold myself back from seeing you the minute you texted,” he’s sighing, “but that’s why I thought this weekend would be perfect — spend it just with each other, no distractions,” 

“Toru,” you murmur, “I need to tell you something,” you can’t hold back — you need to tell him, you need him to know, and his lips press into a pout, forehead wrinkled, “I think I have feelings for you — more than what our relationship should have,” your cheeks flush, eyes falling to the ground, and you watch your breath warm the cold air, “I don’t know if you feel the same or if we should stop, but I needed you to know because I—” 

And his finger rests against your lips, eyes nearly shining in the moonlight, “You really mean that, sweetheart?” and you swallow the lump in your throat, before nodding. And he grins, before his lips find yours in a bruising kiss, pulling you impossibly closer, wrapping you in his jacket as he presses himself against you, “I have feelings for you too — I have for a while,”

“You—do?” you manage between kisses and breathes, and you look up at him with wide eyes and parted lips — and you’re so impossibly cute — he has to hold himself back from taking you against his car then and there — “Satoru, please—” 

“I do, I do, sweetheart, you said you’ve never done any of this before, well I’ve never done half of the things I’ve done with you,” he murmurs, a chuckle caught in his words, “do you think I’d plan a trip like this for just anyone? I’ve never even engaged in this sort of relationship before — until I saw you,” 

You pause, mouth agape, “So you’ve never had a different—” 

“You’re my one and only baby,” he teases, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead, “and worth every cent, second, and effort I’ve used,” And you bite back a smile, eyes slightly glassy, “what?” 

“I thought — I don’t know, when I hadn’t heard from you, I thought you had found someone else, that you were going to leave, and it just seems so silly now,” you shake your head, but he’s cupping your chin, meeting your gaze. 

“It is silly, baby,” he’s pressing another kiss to your lips, “because I’d never leave you — and I’m not planning on it, are you?” 

“No! No, of course not,” and he laughs at your eager reply, making your cheeks hot, as he’s burying his face in the side of your neck, “Toru—” 

“At this rate, you’re gonna make me fall for you, princess,” and your fingers card through his hair, grinning as kisses your neck, and you make him look at you — pale skin flushed from the weather or your touch, it could be either. 

“That’s the plan.” 

“Was this part of your plan?” Satoru’s voice is caught, as looks at you — oh and he could look at you forever. 

Your innocent lips painted pink, a perfect accent to the light cerulean lingerie that you had wrapped yourself in. The lace and see through panels left almost nothing to the imagination, but at the same time, hid just enough. You were a present ready to be unwrapped — and you wanted him to do the unwrapping. 

“You tell me,” you chuckle, twirling a strand of your hair between your fingers, letting your legs spread further apart, making him drop the bouquet he was holding, “nothing to say?” 

It had been a few weeks since your trip away and you had been hinting at wanting to finally have your first time with Satoru. But each time, he always ended up fingering you or sucking you off — he was hesitant, he didn’t want you to regret your choice. 

But how to explain that you could never regret him? Well, this was the only way to think of — a hammer instead of a gentle hand. 

And his gaze grows lidded, mouth dry, as he steps forward, “sweetheart—“ 

“You kept saying you wanted our first time to be special, but you don’t get it—“ you reach out and tug him closer by his tie, “my first time will always be special if it’s you,” you kiss his jaw, smiling, and he’s wordless as he stares at you, hesitancy eating away at your confidence “but if you don’t want—“ 

And he’s got you pinned under him, knee pressed between your thighs, his fingers sliding up and down your exposed skin of your sides, his perfect lips curved in a smile, “I guess we’re really not understanding each other, baby,” his lips ghost over the nape of your neck, as he inhaled deeply, before pulling back, his thumb now dragging over your lips, “I want you — badly,” and his fingers tease the fabric of your lingerie, “you don’t know how many times I’ve come close to giving into you, to wanting to just fuck you like I’ve dreamed about, fantasized about — but, I guess I was waiting for a perfect moment that didn’t exist — since every moment with you is special, right?” He teased, making you flush. 

“I want you too, Toru, so bad,” you rub yourself against his knee, “I can’t wait anymore, are you gonna fuck me or—“ 

His knee grinding against you cuts you off with a whine, “don’t tempt me so much, sweetheart, we gotta do this right,” his lips find yours again, all tongue and teeth, as he swallows your noises and more with pleasure, his knee rubbing against you in earnest, “gotta prep you right,” he murmurs reverently. 

His lips trail from your lips to press wet kisses to your jaw, and his fingers part your thigh further — and you let him with ease. And his lips tease the edge of your lingerie, “it’d be a shame to take this off, so maybe I’ll just take you in it,” his mouth closes over your clothed nipple, teasing it through the fabric, making you gasp,  “but then again, I wouldn’t  be able to see your body without any obstructions. Decisions, decisions,” 

And he’s snapping the shoulder strap against your skin, as he pulls his knee away, the dark damp patch on the fabric, “Plesse, Toru, I need more—“ and his lips curl, as his fingers tease your clothed cunt, two fingers dragging right down the slit. The wet fabric barely doing anything to stop the press of his pads against your sensitive folds. 

“So wet for me already, sweetheart? I’m flattered,” he grins, leaning down to inhale, before a soft moan leaves his lips, “your scent is as good as you taste,” making you keen against him at his words — you could never grow used to the sight of him between your thighs, his blue irises fixed on your cunt. 

“Just for you, Toru,” and he bites back a groan, his gaze half lidded with lust, “only for you,” 

He can’t wait anymore. 

He kisses up your body, teasing your bellybutton with his tongue, dragging his mouth up your abdomen until he reaches your lips. And he kisses you again, lips burning against yours, stealing any coherent thought with only a brush of his lips or a stolen touch of your thighs. But now his lips reach the waistband of your lacy panties, giving another broad lick, tasting you through the soaked material, before he’s sliding two fingers inside the elastic tugging it down your legs. 

“As much I love your lingerie — it needs to go,” and he’s sniffing the fabric with a small moan, before pocketing it with a wide grin,  “for now,” 

“Toru, those were expensive—“ 

“I know, my money paid for them,” he winks, making you shiver with a graze of his teeth against your inner thigh, “I’ll buy you as many as you like, as long I’m the only one taking them off,” his warm breath makes your cunt twitch as his fingers part your pussy, stretching out your walls — so fucking tight,  “s’pretty, all for me,” his thumb brushing against your clit, making you whine, “so needy, pretty girl — you need my cock that bad?” He’s thumbing your chin, making you meet his gaze and his cock throbs — you were already so fucked out — chest nearly heaving, your breasts nearly escaping their cups; your lips parted with pants and soft moans; and your eyes fixed on him, lidded and needy — it was enough for him to cum there and then. 

Was he the virgin or were you? 

“I’ll give you my cock, baby,” his tongue finally licks up your cunt, savoring the taste of you on his tongue — sweetest thing he’d ever had — “but I’m going to have your cunt first,” 

You’re a mess — moaning and twitching as your fingers grasp at his snowy locks, white strands between your fingers bury him deeper in your aching warmth, thighs nearly suffocating him — and he wouldn’t want to die any other way, honestly. Fuck, how is he so good at this? Two seconds, and you’re ready to squirt all over his face — the way his tongue drags against your insides and flicks against your clit, before sliding back into your sweet cunt, making your walls twitch around him. 

And he can’t help but grind against his sheets and mattress, surely leaving a stain on his pants — but fuck, he couldn’t help it. All he couldn’t help it — all he wanted to was sink into you, bury himself deep inside, until he made you cum over and over — but he wanted this to be good for you. 

It’s when his lips close around your clit and suck as your fingers sink into you once again and fuck you open when it’s all over for you. You’re moaning unabashedly now, your back arching and your legs trembling as you cum hard, his name on your lips in an almost scream, as he only eats you out through your orgasm, tongue lapping every drop of your release, as you come down from your high. Intense pleasure ebbs away to slight twitches and heavy pants, as you look down at him with fucked out eyes, his face absolutely covered in your glossy release, as his pink tongue darts out to collect the rest, back of his hand taking care of the rest, your cunt convulsing at the sight of him. 

“Know it was good, but didn’t realize it was that good,” and he’s leaning up, sliding off the bed to strip off his jacket before undo the buttons of his shirt’s cuffs, fingers deftly undoing his button-up now, “so perfect for me,” and he’s pulling his phone from his pocket, as he leans down to part your thighs for him, his gaze dark with lust as he snaps a few pictures of your leaking cunt, “such a pretty princess cunt,” and you hear the clink of his belt as he undoes it, your gaze lifting as your eyes raked over his defined abs and muscles, following all the way down to his v-line and below…

Fuck. 

You knew he was big — hell you could barely fit him in your mouth, but how the fuck was he going to fit inside you? And your nerves come back full force, but mixed with an excitement — an excitement and a relief that your first time — your first time would be with someone you loved, would be with someone that the word ‘love’ failed to encompass your feelings for. 

Even when he was a teasing ass. 

“Like what you see, baby?” he’s grinning, as he drags his engorged tip against your fluttering walls, smearing his pre-cum against yours, groaning as he watches it mix, “fuck, been dreaming about this for so long,” as he leans over you to press a kiss to your sweet lips, the lust mixing with love — an entire ocean of love that threatens to drown you if you look for too long, “are you sure?” the words are said with such concern, such care, such gentleness that it almost makes you want to cry — but you don’t know why. 

“I am, always, when it’s you,” and your fingers find his cheek, as you lean up to kiss him, his lips curved in a smile reserved for you. 

“Don’t go getting all soft on me now, sweetheart,” and you laugh. 

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you, old man—” and you gasp as he presses the tip against your entrance, waiting for your go-head to push in — but that doesn't mean he couldn’t make you eat your words. 

“What was that, baby?” it’s his turn to laugh and yours to pout, before you’re pulling him close again. 

“Satoru, please—” and your gazes meet again, and there’s no need for any more discussion. He moves slow, lining himself up, making sure he is lubricated enough to slip into you. 

“If I’m hurting you—-” 

“I’ll scream,” you tease, and he snorts. 

“I’d like to see you screaming for a different reason, but that works too,” and he’s leaning down to capture your lips once more, as he sinks into you slowly. Your lips part in a gasp, your expression twisting with the discomfort you felt, but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t tolerate, and his eyes meet yours, as you give a nod, and inch by inch, he fits himself in you — until he finally bottoms out. 

You both groan, his fingers running through your hair, “So fucking perfect f’me, sweetheart,” and he’s not moving, letting you get used to him filling you up, “I know, it’s so much, isn’t it, baby? But you’re doing so well,” and his lips met yours again, as the slight discomfort ebbs away, all you feel is want, want as his tip finds your cervix, want as you feel your walls meld to his shape, and want when you hear the low groan stuck in his throat, “good girl, my best girl,” 

And you can’t help the desperate whine that parts your throat, “Please, move,” you nod, and that’s all he needs for him to pull back and thrust back in, pulling gasps and moans from your pretty lips. 

“That’s it, baby,” he grunts, as he falls into a rhythm, “fuck, your cunt is practically sucking me back in — getting the feeling you don’t want me to stop, sweetheart,” he’s pressing sweet kisses to your neck, in contrast to the dirty squelch of your cunt and the slapping of your hips with his as he fucked you. 

It felt so good. 

Your fingers find purchase on his neck, fingers dragging through his white locks and undercut, drawing him impossibly closer, as his lips close over one of your nipples, licking and sucking as he thrusted into you. And he’s guiding your legs around his waist, and your legs pull him ever closer — ever deeper — as he groans against you. He presses sloppy wet kisses along your collarbone, his groan vibrating against your skin. 

“Look at that, pretty girl, taking me so well,” he’s grunting, as he looks at where you two meet, watching himself sink into you over and over, “g’nna make you only want this cock — no one else’s — all mine,” and you’re so close — your head buried in the nape of his neck, and he could hear every pant, moan, gasp right as it left your mouth, “such pretty noises — never made these noises for anyone else, have you, baby? Just f’me,” 

And you nod, eyes fluttering shut, “Close, s’close,” pleasure building, like a coil ready to snap, you can’t find the words — “I’m—“ 

“Cum on my cock, Princess,” his fingers press down against your clit, rubbing and that’s it, “let me make you feel good,” 

Your walls clamp down hard his dick twitching in your cunt, a low groan leaving his lips, as he fucked you through your orgasm, and his hips stutter against you, low moans leaving his lips. 

It felt so right. Pleasure washing over you as your toes curled, your eyes nearly rolling back, as you came. And he can’t stand it much longer — 

“Where—“ he groans, your slick cunt too much for him, your cum drenching him, “I’m close—“ 

“Inside, please, I—“ and he gives a shaky chuckle. 

“So greedy, baby — want my cum too?” He kisses you, long and soft as he moaned your name far too loud, his warm, thick load spilling inside you, as he fucked it inside, “look at that, filled you up so good,” as he finally stills inside of you, as he eases out, groaning as he watches your mixed release slip from inside you and trickle down his balls, “s’good, so perfect for me,” 

He grabs a towel to clean you up, gently cleaning your thighs, murmuring sweet nothings. Before he leans down to press a kiss to your reddened lips. 

“Are you okay?” He runs his fingers through your hair, and you nod, as you cup his cheek. 

“I’m perfect,” you sigh, as he curls up beside you, burying his face in the nape of your neck, “and you?” 

“What’s more than ‘perfect?’” And you snort, before he’s leaning over you, “what?” 

“You’re such a dork,” 

“But I’m your dork, your very rich dork, who loves to spoil you,” and you laugh, pulling him close. 

“Just mine,” and he’s kissing you again. 

“Just yours.” 

And you find yourself at that same bar you did many moons ago. 

You nurse a soda, instead of a drink, because you didn’t care for the taste of alcohol. Habits die hard with the company you kept. You felt the gaze of several people on you, but none of them approached — and you didn’t mind one bit. 

“Mind if I sit here?” And you smile, stirring your soda with its straw, not bothering to look up at the sound of this very familiar voice. The same voice that had woken you up with several kisses to your neck this morning. 

“Not at all,” you reply, as you slide over his fruity drink — some concoction that is utterly too sweet — “you’re late,” 

Satoru sighs, swirling his drink in its glass. “Well, the business partners were particularly chatty. I think they knew we had dinner plans,” Satoru sips at his drink, pouting, as you comfort him with a chaste kiss to his cheek, “how’d the job interview go?” 

“I think they might give me the offer,” you smile, but you shrug, leaning against the surprisingly not sticky bar counter,  “I’m not too worried either way,” 

“I told you don’t have to work—“ 

“And I told you I want at least to work part-time to contribute something,” you remind him, as you lean close, fingers lacing with his with a squeeze, “don’t worry we will spend a lot of time together,” and he’s still pouting. 

“That’s not enough,” 

“Plenty?” And he relents, murmuring something about “that’s better,”, “where are we going for dinner anyway?” You raise an eyebrow, “such secrecy tonight,” 

“I have to keep you on your toes, sweetheart, can’t have you losing interest,” he smiles, as his fingers reach into his pocket, and you roll your eyes, unimpressed. 

“Never,” you roll your eyes, as he leans over and presses a kiss to his neck, and he’s finding your lips, fingers brushing your cheek, panting as he parts, “I know you’re trying to avoid the question.” 

And he only offers a grin, before he’s holding a ring before you, “take a guess,” 

You stare at it, blinking, your fingers covering your mouth, “Satoru—“ 

“I told you a long time ago here that I wanted to be the one to take care of you — and now I’m asking to take care of you forever,” and you can’t help but grin, “I’m sure we can reach another agreement — as long as you let me call you my wife,” 

And you’re already pulling him into your arms, lips sliding against his, as he melts into the kiss, “is that a yes?” 

You laugh, offering your hand, “put the ring on me,” and he does, sliding it onto your finger, smiling. 

“You won’t regret it,” and you kiss him again, pressing your forehead to his.  

“I know,” because saying yes to marrying Satoru Gojo was surely the smartest idea you’ve ever had.  

✴︎ a/n: s/o to @laneysmusings for being the best beta reader, and i was truly possessed with the idea of having gojo take care of me and hearing mei mei say that he's "so rich" and he's like " well, she ain't lying." I also didn't listen to agora hills while writing this fic, but i used all the edits of gojo to that song as insp for the title and header lol.

✴︎ taglist: @deegausserr, @satoryaa, @orianakira, @tinnkerbell, @laylasbunbunny, @aztecmoonwarrior, @empresslazingway, @chosoilysm, @idktbhloley, @lorain07, @dreampiies, @nestafarren, @daydreamermarimo, @hydraafk, @theonetheycallbatman, @soccasium, @clearlandchild, @indigoghnights, @cha-raena, @strawberiicreme, @thegreatandpowerfulloreothecat, @jgh15hog, @onlyangeltae, @satocidal, @mrsmoriarty-holmes, @arrloww, @kyyyynziee

[peachdues]

BIRTHDAY SURPRISES — NSFW

Sanemi Shinazugawa x Reader

A/N: there is nothing redeemable about this. It’s just 7.9k words of pure filth in honor of my man’s birthday.

My husband got a boner reading this, so enjoy you whores.

CW: MDNI • Explicit sexual content • daddy!kink • elevator blowjobs • creampies • rough sex • kinky sex • brat-taming/mild dumbification • overstimulation • fluff at the end followed by more smut • not proof read lmao

Sanemi Shinazugawa has never liked the month of November.

For starters, the stupid month can’t decide what damn season it wants to be. It’s somehow too cold to really qualify as autumn and the leaves have usually fallen to the ground, brown and dead and useless, but it’s also still too warm to snow.

And November is such a tease — smack dab between two great holidays yet offering nothing but a restlessness that persists until the end of the year.

So no, Sanemi Shinazugawa isn’t fond of this time of year. But the universe has never shied away from giving him the middle finger, so Sanemi supposes he shouldn’t be surprised his birthday falls during such a bullshit month like November.

He’d been content to spend the day of his birth like he did every other year — hunkered down in his apartment with some cheap takeout, alone, without anyone to make a big fuss about it. That was the plan — his goddamn plan.

So how the fuck did he end up here?

The “here” in question is a suite at one of the city’s most exclusive hotels. The room is stuffed full of faces, some familiar but most not, packed together like sardines. The music is loud and pulsing and it threatens to give him a nasty headache.

It was Tengen who convinced him to allow this — though, Sanemi doesn’t suppose he was given much of a choice in the matter. But his friend group learned of his impending birthday a few weeks earlier, and before Sanemi could level a few, well-backed threats against any party planning, Tengen had booked the massive suite in which he now found himself, and promised Sanemi that he wouldn’t have to buy a single drink.

Sanemi agreed only on the condition that he be allowed to book a separate hotel room — several floors below where this godforsaken party now raged.

At least Tengen had meant it when he promised Sanemi wouldn’t have to spend a dime on alcohol. He took care to run up his friend’s tab by ordering several shots of Grey Goose, throwing them back as easily as water.

Hey, it was his birthday, after all.

The hotel suite is a blur of lights and colors and bodies pressed together in dark corners. Truthfully, Sanemi really can’t find any one thing to pay attention to; it’s ironic that this party is supposedly for him, and yet he feels like the most invisible person in the room.

But then he spots you — beautiful, witty, and charming you — seated in the lounge area, surrounded by both shared friends and strangers, and it’s like a spotlight has been pointed directly at you. All else seems to fall away, recessing into the shadows of the room, and his attention is locked solely on you; the star of the show that is his birthday party.

The feelings swirling in Sanemi’s chest are dangerous; lethal. He knows he should look away and accept the fact that you, with your endless pick of eligible women and men, would never deign to chase after someone like him, someone with as many scars on his heart as are seared into his skin. He knows that. He knows he’s only setting himself up to get more pissed off — to hate his birthday more than he already does.

But he can’t stop watching you.

And even if he could, he doesn’t want to. He’s only been in love with you since the moment Shinobu tugged you into a booth at a bar they all frequented. There hadnt really been any room for you to sit — not with seven of them already packed tightly onto the bench — but you’d taken one look at him and grinned, something that could only be described as mischief lighting your eyes.

“You don’t mind if I sit here, do you?” You’d asked him sweetly as you plopped your ass right down on his lap. “You look like you’re the comfiest one here.”

Sanemi, who was known for having a quick temper and an even quicker mouth, had been stunned into silence by the presence of a beautiful woman, perched on his knee like it was the most natural thing to sit on a stranger’s lap. His friends had been hard-pressed to suppress their smirks at the way Sanemi gaped at the back of your head, and he was fairly certain it was because you’d been so ballsy that you’d secured a permanent spot in their weekly bar rotation.

That had been over a year ago, and Sanemi’s infatuation with you grew deeper by the day.

Not that he’d ever done anything about it — even though, at times, it felt like you were all but baiting him into acting on his feelings. He wanted to believe the way your eyes followed him wherever he went in a room meant something, that your lingering touches were an invitation for more, but he could never bring himself to find out.

That cowardice, he supposed bitterly, was exactly what led him here, sitting alone at the suite room bar, watching as countless others flirted with you and you, right back.

A few times your eyes had tracked him across the room; one time, you looked as though you were about to push through the throng of people shoved into Tengen’s suite to come talk to him, but a hand on your bicep caught you and diverted your attention.

It’s then that Sanemi snaps. The moment he watches as the asshole in question pulls you against him for a slow grind, that jealous, monstrous thing in his chest rears its ugly head, growling and gnawing to be let free.

He’d hoped, for one pathetic moment, that you would push the man away, shake your head, do something that indicated you weren’t the least bit interested in him, no matter how fascinating his multi-colored eyes were, or how charming his feral grin was, but you didn’t. And the moment he sees the douchebag pull your hips flush against his, Sanemi knows he needs to get some air.

So with less grace than he knows he probably should show, Sanemi shoves his way towards the door leading out the suite and into the hallway.

Fuck it, he decides. He would go back to his room, several floors below, take a shower and hit the fucking hay. His birthday was bullshit, anyways.

He storms towards the elevators, slightly tipsy and certainly angry. He stabs a finger against the down button, his leg bouncing as he waits for the elevator to come and save him from his own party.

“What’re you doing out here, birthday boy?”

His stomach sinks to his ass at the familiar cadence of the voice behind him. Reluctantly, he turns and sees you making your way down the hallway wall, a smirk on your pretty lips and looking downright sinful in that flimsy, silvery dress that barely reaches the middle of your thighs.

That damn elevator can’t come fast enough.

“Go back to the party,” he says tightly, though he still won’t look you directly in the eyes. “Don’t let me interrupt your good time.”

You draw up short. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sanemi only scoffs and jabs frustratingly at the elevator button, willing for the telltale ding that will allow him to step into the lift and get far the fuck away from this rager he didn’t want.

From you.

“What’s wrong with you? Did something happen?” You push, resuming your advance on him and shortening the space between your bodies. “Sanemi —“

“Save it,” Sanemi bites, and because he cannot help himself, he adds, “I just don’t particularly feel like watching you spread your legs for some lowlife asshole who can’t be bothered to remember your name.”

You blink, comprehension dawning on your face before melting to anger. “That’s what you’re so pissy about?”

Sanemi silently begs the elevator to hurry the fuck up, because now you’re only a few feet away from him and he doesn’t want you to see his fraying restraint.

You fold your arms across your chest, hip jutting out to the side. “You’re acting like a bitch because some jackass tried to grind on me? Why do you even care?”

Sanemi dodges your question with ease.

“You’re the one who fuckin’ followed me out here.”

The elevator dings and Sanemi is damn near falling to his knees in gratitude at its timing. The double sliding doors have barely finished opening before he’s already inside, jamming his finger into the button marked 26, praying it’ll move faster than it arrived.

The doors start to close but a pair of hands slam against both sides of the doorway, preventing them from joining in the middle.

You stand in the center of the threshold, eyes bright and nostrils flaring, the elevator doors half-closed around you.

“It wasn’t easy to throw this party together y’know,” you snap at him, and dully, Sanemi thinks the glare you give him is strong enough to wither plants. “Everyone went out of their way to try and make you feel special, but you’ve been nothing but an asshole about it.”

“I didn’t ask you all to do this — I begged you not to,” Sanemi retorts just as hotly, his arms folding across his chest. “I didn’t want a fuckin’ party.”

“Well, what do you want?”

the silence that stretches between you is more telling than any answer he could have given. By the way your lips part, you seem to realize it at the same moment he does, and that’s when Sanemi knows he’s fucked.

The two of you stare at one another for a moment, the weight of Sanemi’s unspoken admission hanging above your heads like the sword of Damocles.

But then, the blade drops, and it must impale you both, because suddenly your hands fall from the elevator doors and are tangling in his hair at the same moment Sanemi’s fingers latch onto your waist, and your mouths slam together in a fiery clash of lips and teeth.

The elevator doors slide shut behind you right as Sanemi presses you up against the paneled wall and slides his tongue into your mouth.

At the first stroke of his tongue against yours, you tense, and for one panicked moment, he fears he’s gone too far. But then you’re melting against him, and the way you tug on his hair and whimper his name against his lips makes Sanemi loses his goddamn mind.

Time stands still and there are no thoughts in Sanemi’s brain but the feel of your hands running down his arms, his chest, pushing under the open collar of his shirt to dance along his burning skin.

They can’t get to the 26th floor fast enough, no matter how fast the numbers tick past, bringing them closer and closer to privacy —

The elevator jolts to a stop, somewhere between the 29th and 28th floors, and does not move.

It’s just his fucking luck; the girl of his dreams is pressed flush against him, her lips at his ear as she begs for him, and the goddamn elevator has forgotten how to work. If his hands weren’t so busy pushing under the hem of that slip you call a dress to fondle the curve of your ass, he might’ve put a hole through the one of the doors.

He punches the button for the 26th floor again and again, his sanity fraying with each urgent jab of his fingers, yet the elevator still does not move.

If the idea that the pair of you are stranded in a metal box of death suspended over twenty stories high bothers you, Sanemi wouldn’t be able to tell — not when you’ve decided to turn your attention someplace else.

“What’re you —“ Sanemi’s voice is hardly more than a croak as your hands busy themselves with the buckle on his belt, fumbling and tugging until the leather fastened around his hips gives way.

“Shhh!” A press of your index finger to his lips silences him. “Birthday boys shouldn’t worry!”

Your fingers hook under the waistband of his pants and suddenly they’re following you down as you slide to your knees before him.

Sanemi’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head at the way your half-lidded gaze drifts from his face down his body, coming to rest on the tent of his briefs, jutting out from between his thighs.

Your voice is syrupy and warm as you whisper, “I guess I should let you have your first gift,”

Sanemi forgets how to breathe when you peer back up at him, your eyes suddenly round and wide; he nearly forgets how to stand when you lean forward and press your cheek against the side of his cock where it strains against his underwear.

Sanemi sucks in sharply through clenched teeth at the sudden rush of cold elevator air against the heated, sensitive skin of his bare cock, your fingers having tugged him free from the confines of his briefs.

“F-first?” He can’t stop the way the question stutters out, not when your lips, just barely gazing against him, drag from his base to his tip. The soft exhale of your warm breath up his length has his hands shooting behind him for something — anything — to grip.

You hum in confirmation, and Sanemi’s vision almost blacks out when your tongue peeks past your glossy, red-stained lips to trail over his leaking head.

“But you’ll have to wait ‘til we get to your room before you can unwrap the next one.”

Sanemi swears he’ll set the entire hotel building on fire if the elevator doesn’t start working in the next fucking minute. His vicious promise, however, fades to the back of his mind, along with every other coherent thought he’s ever had as your lips part around his head and you take him into your mouth.

“Holy fuck,” Sanemi hisses and his head falls back against the elevator wall with a dull thump.

You him pleasantly around his cock and Sanemi nearly cums right there, the vibrations from your mouth too sweet, adding gasoline to the already raging inferno of his desire.

At first, you keep your hands primly folded behind you, only allowing your mouth to work his shaft. Every time you slide up off him, you curl your tongue against the underside of his cock and every time, Sanemi has to draw upon every morsel of self-restraint he possesses to not buck further down your throat.

But soon, your hands pat their way to his, and you bring his hands against either side of your head. You hold them there for only a moment, just long enough for Sanemi’s stomach to flip as he realizes what you’re giving him permission to do.

You peer up at him with those big eyes, so wide and deceptively innocent, and he knows you’re trying to kill him.“Motherfucking — Y/N,” he moans, threading his fingers through your hair. “Fuck.”

With his grip in your hair secure, Sanemi begins to fuck your mouth. His cock slides in and out of your heat, every push shoving a little more of himself further into your mouth. You only relax your throat, your tongue still curling against the underside of his shaft in a way that makes Sanemi see white.

Sanemi’s hold on your hair tightens. “Fucking take it,” he pants, hips bucking against your face. “My little cock whore.” From his position over you, Sanemi can see the way his words make you squirm with need, your answering moan long, and deep.

Your hands flutter to the side of his thighs, and Sanemi almost winces at the prick of your nails against his skin. But despite the saliva steadily trailing down your chin and the guttural sounds choking in the back of your throat, you’re tugging him closer, your fingers inching around to grip his backside, pressing him closer and closer to you until your nose brushes his groin.

The elevator jolts with movement and resumes its descent, but neither of you notice. All Sanemi can focus on his the way his tip bumps against the back of your throat, and how your cheeks hollow against him as he ruts into your mouth.

Sanemi makes a strangled noise in the vague shape of your name. “I-I’m gonna —“

You only need to swallow around him once before Sanemi is filling your throat with his cum. With a deep groan, his head drops back, his hand splayed across the back of your skull, keeping your nose pressed against his base as he rocks his hips, his cock twitching violently in your mouth.

His eyes fly open when he feels the wetness from your tears against the sensitive skin of his groin, and he’s quick to pull out of your mouth. Your hands bracing against his thighs as you gulp down air in heavy, shuddering gasps.

“Fuck — I’m sorry,” his hands smooth worryingly over your hair. “That was too rough, I’m so fuckin’ sorry-“

Your head snaps up, and Sanemi feels a brief moment of panic at the sight of your mascara, streaked down your cheeks from an onslaught of tears. Bht then you’re smiling at him, a big, triumphant, radiant smile, and Sanemi feels almost as dumb in the head as he had when your mouth was around his cock.

The elevator slows and Sanemi hastily tucks himself back into his pants. The moment his belt is refastened, his hand is on your arm, gently guiding you up to stand right as a ding! sounds, and the doors slide open to reveal the 26th floor.

You step out first, turning back to him expectantly. “Well? What room?”

Sanemi’s heart falls to his ass as he beholds the assured confidence blazing in your eyes. “2602,” he manages to croak.

You tug him out of the elevator and for a few moments, he’s dumbstruck by his good fortune. It almost feels like a dream, that your here, leading him down the winding hallway of this oversized and overpriced hotel, eager to get back to his room and do whatever the hell it is that’s lit that fire in your eyes.

Sanemi’s awe is short-lived, replaced by a crashing wave of need and boiling desire, hot and furiously bubbling under his skin. His hand tightens around yours and he jerks you around, spinning you until you’re caged tightly between the hallway wall and his chest.

His mouth attacks your neck, biting and sucking his claim into your skin, no matter how temporary. Your leg hikes up to hook around his hips, your foot pressed against his calf, and it seems neither of you care that you’re very much still on an open hallway as opposed to the privacy of his hotel room.

“I’m not holding back with you,” he whispers against the hollow of your throat. His hands slide hotly down your sides, fingers toying under the absurdly short hem of your dress, kneading just beneath the curve of your ass. “You asked me what I wanted — I want this. You.”

Your sultry giggle in his ear chokes off as Sanemi’s finger dips under your ass from behind to run firmly over your clothed slit. A breathy fuck falls from his lips as he feels the wetness seeping through the fabric of your underwear.

“That’s your main gift,” you’re tugging on his hair again until you’ve pulled him away from your throat so that you can slant your mouth over his. “Me. However you want me.”

You take his bottom lip between your teeth and suck, and Sanemi swears he’s died and gone to heaven. “As many times as you want.”

“And in whatever positions you want.”

Sanemi has never been a particularly religious man, but he thinks he’s about one nanosecond from dropping to his knees in worship of you.

Sanemi wastes no time in hauling you over his shoulder, throwing any and all cares to the wind of being seen as he slaps your ass and books the remaining trek back to his hotel room. Youre lucky his room is only around the corner, given that you won’t stop groping his ass.

Somehow, Sanemi manages to fumble for his keycard and swipes it, and he has you inside his room and pushed up against the door before it even fully latches shut.

You’re moaning and panting just from his hands, and Sanemi can feel himself already growing hard once more. His lips are feverish as they roam from your lips, to your neck, and down to the hem of your dress concealing your soft breasts from sight. His hands are even greedier, bunching the tissue-paper-like fabric of you dress between his fingers as he explores the curves and dips of your body.

“God you feel so fucking good,” he mutters against your lips between kisses. “I can’t get enough of you.”

From the way your hands drag down his chest, fingers sliding between the undone buttons of his shirt to explore his chest, he knows you’re just as starved as he is.

With a slight whine, you push him back, breaking your kiss. Sanemi looks at you, but the question building on his tongue does as you kick your heels off, your fingers flying to the straps of your dress.

Sanemi feels locked in place by the heat of your gaze, and he swears he can feel his pulse tick in his neck. One by one, you push the straps of your dress from your shoulders, letting the satiny material fall down your waist and puddle around your feet.

If Sanemi thought he was losing his mind before, he knows for certain that he likely needs to be committed now.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Sanemi’s stare is unabashed and gaping. For beneath that flimsy scrap of shiny fabric pretending to be a dress was not your bare skin, but dark green lace and mesh and corset paneling.

A teddy.

You twist slightly so you’re looking over your shoulder, fully exposing your ass and the thong-like back of your one-piece to the slack-jawed birthday boy.

“I figured you would like this one.”

Your words knock Sanemi right off his axis, his head spinning so fast, it’s a miracle it’s still attached to his shoulders.

You’d worn fucking lingerie for his party.

For him.

You’d gone out of your way to wear something you thought he would like on the mere chance you’d end up as you were now, here in his room. You’d planned for it.

You didn’t leave him any other choice; he was going to fucking ruin you.

His hand flies behind his neck to grip his shirt, ripping it over his head and throwing it unceremoniously to the side.

Sanemi doesn’t fail to notice the way your tongue darts out to wet your lips, your pupils blowing wide at the sight of the sculpted planes of his chest and abdomen.

He kicks off his shoes and his hands shove his pants quickly down his legs, grateful that he hadn’t bothered to refasten his belt or button after the stunt you pulled in the elevator.

“C’mere,” he orders, roughly. Left in just his black briefs, he lunges forward to take you into his arms once more.

Your peal of laughter as Sanemi throws you onto his king-sized hotel bed is the prettiest thing he’s ever heard. He wastes no time pouncing on you, eager to reconnect your lips, to kiss you until you’re left as breathless and wanting as he is.

Between messy kisses, Sanemi’s hands make their way down your body, squeezing and marveling at the way your body seems made for his touch. And as if the feeling of your skin beneath his palms isn’t enough to drive him wild, you’re so responsive to his touch. Every stroke of his hands seems to bring you alive until you’re practically thrumming with want and begging him for more.

His fingers slide over your lace-covered cunt and he swears at the dampness he feels clean through the fabric of your teddy.

“Eager, are we?” He hums, his lips following down the path he traced with his hands. “Tell me what you need, sweetheart.”

Your hips buck impatiently against him as his face settles between your thighs. He grins at your desperation, trailing open-mouthed kisses across your inner thigh until he reaches your covered slit.

He lets his tongue peek out between his lips and drags it over until he reaches your other thigh, groaning at the faint taste of you dampening the lace.

Sanemi’s fingers push under the edge of the teddy, a breath blowing past his lips when he connects with your dripping cunt.

“Look how fucking soaked you are,” he says in awe, marveling the way your slick coats his fingers. “Is this all for me?”

You groan, pushing your hips down to grind harder against his hand.

“Just fuck me already,” you huff. “I’m ready now.”

Sanemi tsks softly at you. “You need to ask a lot nicer than that, sweet girl.”

Your impatient demands taper off into soft moans as Sanemi sinks a single finger into your entrance, his cock growing impossibly hard at the feeling of you clenching easily around him.

Sanemi practically trembles at the thought of sinking into your heat, of how you might feel clenching and pulsing around his length while he fucks you the way he’s been dreaming since he met you.

But while he might be pent up, Sanemi isn’t so much of an asshole that he wouldn’t make sure you were good and ready to take him.

So he simply tugs the crotch of your teddy aside and without any further teasing or torture, he latches his mouth to your cunt with a deep moan.

As his tongue darts between your folds, Sanemi realizes that all the cake in the world couldn’t compare to how fucking sweet your pussy tastes.

You cry out, his name stuttering out between a staccato of moans and cooes for more. Your hands twist in his hair, alternating between pulling his face closer to your core and pushing him away, the pleasure almost too much for you to bear.

Sanemi thinks he could get drunk on your taste. His eyes open to watch the way your face pinches, how your jaw goes slack to let his name drip from your tongue.

Your hands unwind from his hair to tug at the sinful draping of lace fitted against your body like a glove. “Off,” you whimper. “Off.”

It takes him a moment to realize what you want. But after another plea of “off,” Sanemi’s hands are already working to push the teddy down your lithe form.

“I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you,” he soothes, dragging the lingerie off your legs. Sanemi swears softly at the sight of you, bare and spread out on his mattress, your body pliant and ready for him to use however he chooses.

“S-Sanemi,” he can’t suppress his grin at the apparent whine in your tone. “I feel so — so empty —“

He doesn’t try to hold in the groan resounding deep from his chest. Youre asking — practically begging — for his cock, and Sanemi doesn’t have the willpower to deny you.

“Fuck this,” he snarls, and suddenly your body is caged under his, his hips slotting perfectly into the cradle of your thighs. “I need to be in you.”

His lips dance feverishly up the side of your neck until they reconnect with yours.

For a moment, your kiss slows to something more sensual and passionate, as opposed to the heated and frantic kisses you’d exchanged earlier. The sigh you exhale against his mouth is the sexiest thing Sanemi has ever heard, and the feeling of your fingers latching in his hair is a sensation he never wants to forget.

Your tongue swipes along his lower lip in a silent request for entry that he’s only too happy to grant. You moan against the taste of yourself on his tongue.

Sanemi knows he’s been head over heels for you for a long time, but the way your tongue dances languidly with his has him utterly undone.

If you wanted to, he’d let you swallow him whole.

Your kiss melts into something more needy and frantic, and Sanemi feels your wetness grind down against his thigh, a pleading whimper building on your lips. With an eagerness that makes his head spin, your legs shift to lock around his waist, and one of the hands you’d had latched in his hair drifts down his abdomen until it finds his cock, heavy and hot in your palm.

“I’ve got a condom —“ Sanemi manages between desperate kisses. “In my wallet —“

But your legs tighten around his hips and your hand pumps harder at his stiffened length. “Don’t need it,” you murmur against his lips. “On the pill.”

Sanemi thinks he might pass out. “Fuck — are you sure?”

You nod, eyes bright and alert even in spite of your sleepy, fucked-out smile. “Wanna feel you, baby.”

Don’t have to fucking tell him twice. Especially not when you’re calling him baby, even if it’s a pet name you’ll only use on him for the night.

With deft hands, Sanemi flips you so that your front is pressed against the mattress. You scramble beneath him to plant your knees, raising your ass high in the air, your cunt held out in an offering he could never refuse.

He gives one of your pert ass cheeks an appreciative smack before he shuffles forward on his knees. He rests one foot on the outside of your leg, parallel with your hip, and slots his other knee between your parted thighs. One hand grips the base of his cock while the other kneads at your hip, holding you steady while also keeping your limbs relaxed as he lines his tip up with your dripping entrance.

“Unless you say otherwise, ‘M goin’ hard,” he warns, his voice rougher than gravel. “Been waiting too long to do this.”

Ever the devilish little minx, you wiggle your hips back against him, and his breath chokes in his throat when your wet heat catches him at his tip.

You look back over your shoulder and Sanemi’s gaze darkens at the challenge in your eyes. “Give me everything you’ve got.”

Sanemi decides to respond to your taunt not with his words, but with his body. In a single, fluid movement, he plunges his cock deep into your heated core, his fingers tightening around your hips with bruising force.

“Jesus fuck,” he pants once he’s fully embedded to the hilt inside your warmth.

It’s unreal; the feeling of your silken, pleasure-soaked walls moulding around his cock like you were made to take him sends a bolt lightning surging down his spine, making him shudder.

A cross between a cry and a scream tears from your throat, muffled only by the press of your mouth against the starchy blankets of his hotel bed. He’s about to ask if you’re okay, if you want him to go slow for a bit since he knows he’s a larger than average. but then you’re throwing your hips back against him, circling and grinding and mewling for more.

“Fuck me,” you moan. “Fuck me, Sanemi — please.”

“God fucking damn,” Sanemi hisses through clenched teeth. And he knows he can’t deny you, not when your whining so prettily for him; nor when your pussy feels this fucking good.

He draws back, his cock sliding out of you until only his tip remains. He lingers there, for just a hair’s breadth of a moment, teasing.

Your impatient whine doesn’t last long as Sanemi slams you back onto him, the sound choking off in your throat. He doesn’t give you time to recover; he digs his fingers into the flesh of your hips and drives his cock into you again and again, pounding a relentless rhythm into you that has you sobbing into the mattress.

“Yes, yes, yes!” You blubber, your fingers fisted into the blankets below for purchase as you push yourself back to meet his frenzied thrusts.

Sanemi can’t tear his eyes away from where his cock, shiny with your wetness, disappears in and out of you. “You’re taking me so fuckin’ well,” he says in awe. Your pussy is gripping him like a vice, practically sucking him back into your heat. “You like letting me use you, huh?”

Sanemi shifts so that his weight is on the knee resting beside your leg, allowing him to push harder and deeper into your cunt. You try to lift your head, but Sanemi’s hand leaves its place on your hip to press down on the back of your neck, squeezing lightly.

“Oh f-fuck,” you groaned, voice slightly muffled from where your face was half-pressed into the mattress. “Oh god — just like that — D-daddy, yes —“

Sanemi’s hips stutter. Daddy. No one has ever called him that in the bedroom before, but fuck if it doesn’t somehow make him harder than a fucking diamond.

Especially because it seems like it slipped out of you without much thought, your eyes too busy staring at the back of your skull as every punishing thrust of Sanemi’s cock into your pliant cunt makes your body bounce against the mattress.

He likes it. A lot.

“Should’ve known you’d have a daddy kink, filthy little thing,” he groans, his hand reaching under you to toy with your swollen clit.

You only moan in response, and Sanemi can’t help but to swirl his fingers around that nub, savoring the way it makes your thighs quiver beneath you.

The hand still pressing against the back of your neck slides up to grip your hair, and Sanemi pulls your head up from the bed. “Do you call everyone ‘daddy,’ sweetness, or just those who fuck you the way you like it?”

“Not everyone” you gasp, voice strained against the tight arch of your neck. “Just you — ah! Only you.”

With a growl, Sanemi’s arm locks around your middle and hauls you up until your back is flush against his chest. One hand wraps around your jaw, his fingers squeezing your cheeks to keep your head back as he continues pounding into you.

“Look at you,” his exhales hotly against your ear, his teeth grazing your lobe. “Daddy’s pretty little toy.”

Your thighs quake in their effort to keep you up. Your moans raise an octave, warbling out of your throat as you settle heavily against him, utterly helpless against the pleasure rolling through your body.

Sanemi’s hand drops from your jaw to drag teasingly down your torso. When he reaches your lower belly, he presses his palm flat, the pressure allowing the blunt head of his cock to rub against that sensitive spot that makes you sing his name.

“You feel that, baby?” And the whine that slips out of you is one he wishes he could bottle up. “That’s all me — that’s how deeply I’m fucking you.”

He’s practically holding you up, your limbs little more than jelly, but he doesn’t mind. He only increases the pressure of his hand, rubbing slightly over the softness of your stomach.

“And that’s where I’m gonna fill you up, ‘til you’re nice and full, hm?”

A stilted cry of his name is dragged from your lips, and Sanemi swears he’d marry you tomorrow, if you’d let him.

It’s not lost on him that this is likely a one-time thing; that you’ll likely leave his hotel room and the two of you won’t speak of it again, but he can’t find it within himself to give a shit.

It doesn’t matter if this is just a slightly drunken hook up — it doesn’t matter to him if it’s just sex. You’re letting him use your body for his pleasure, and that thought is enough to make his brain turn to liquid between his ears.

Sanemi falls back against the bed, bringing you with him, your back still pressed against his chest. He winds an arm around one of your thighs, holding it open to allow himself to continue fucking up into you with the speed of a racehorse.

“God you’re so fuckin’ tight — don’t want me to leave, do you, precious?”

He chuckles in your ear, catching your lobe between his teeth. His hand wedges between your thighs to play with your clit again, and the way your pussy flutters around him signals that you’re right on the precipice of your orgasm.

The first of the night, if he had anything to say about it.

“Maybe I should make you my own personal cocksleeve — would you like that, sweetheart?” You’re mewling, nodding frantically as you squirm and thrash atop him.

“Would you like to sit on Daddy’s cock all day, keep him nice and warm?”

“Yes!” You sob, and Sanemi’s fingers circle your clit even harder, determined to to make you cum. “Yes, ‘Nemi, please! I’ll be your good girl — I’ll be so good —“

Sanemi’s pace falters slightly at your words, a new idea — a wicked idea, forming fast in his mind. “You will, huh?”

He abruptly pulls out of you, though the anguished cry that rattles out of you at the loss of his warmth tugs at his heartstrings. After all, you’d been so close.

Sanemi wastes no time flipping you under him, hooking both your legs over his muscled shoulders until the underside of your thighs press flat against his chest.

“You’ll cum when I say so,” he shoves his painfully hard cock back into your pulsing warmth, his knuckles turning white under his grip against the rumpled blankets as he fights to keep his eyes from rolling back at the feeling of being sheathed back inside you once more.

“And you’re gonna fuckin’ look at me when i fill you up,” Sanemi snarls between ferocious snaps of his hips. “I wanna see that gorgeous face when I cum inside this pretty little pussy.”

“Yes! Yes s-sir.”

“Yeah? And who’s fucking you this good?”

“Y-you,”

He ducks his head down to nip sharply at your breast. “Try again.”

“You are — D-daddy,”

Sanemi’s pace only increases. “Still not what I’m looking for, princess,” he’s borderline cruel and he knows it, but he also knows what he wants. “Tell me whose pussy this is.”

You don’t answer; you can’t, given how slack your jaw has gone, your mouth frozen in a perfect “o” as Sanemi pushes the head of his cock right at that spot deep within you that makes you seize down on him hard enough that he sees stars.

He growls your name and when you still don’t respond, he snaps his hips particularly hard against yours.

“Say it.”

His hand shoves between your bodies, and Sanemi pinches your clit harshly between this thumb and index finger.

“Sanemi!” You wail, writhing under him. His fingers rub soothing circles against your clit, though the relentless thrust of his cock does not ease.

“That’s my girl,” he praises, and the pressure of his fingers against your throbbing nub increases. “Now cum on this fucking cock.”

That does it.

Your back arcs sharply up off the mattress, thighs tightening around his hips as your cunt clenching around him with earth-shattering force. Sanemi feels a smug wave of pride as a surge of fluid springs forth and coats his abdomen and groin.

You fall back against the bed, limp and spent, but Sanemi isn’t done with you yet; you won’t be, not until Sanemi has left his mark.

He shifts over you, his full weight pressing you down into the mattress; his hands pushing your knees up until they’re level with your chest. You sigh and hum, still wading through the haze of your orgasm, but given the way you let your thighs spread a little wider, you’re aware enough to know that Sanemi is readying you to take his release.

It’s not enough; Sanemi doesn’t want you lost in the aftermath of your euphoria — he wants you crying out for his.

His hand grips your face, your cheeks squishing together beneath his fingers as he forces your head to tilt toward him. Your eyes flutter open, bleary and unfocused before the clouds part and your attention is locked wholly on him.

“Beg for it,” he grits out, his hand smacking against your clit until you howled. “Beg for my cum.”

“Please!” Your cry is shrill and desperate, your hands tightening weakly around his shoulders. “Please f-fill me up — oh, Sanemi —“

He nearly loses it at the way you say his name, like it’s some damn prayer and he, your salvation, but he holds back. It’s not enough — he wants you as filthy and wanton as him.

“Use your words,” his words leave him in a single, inexorable command.

Your lower lip wobbles. “Your cum — please, please fill this pussy up. Fill me up, fuck it into me —“

Sanemi cuts off your babbling with a single, bruising kiss. He feels his balls tighten, and the prickle at the base of his spine grows hotter, signaling just how close he is to nirvana.

His hand finds one of yours where it clings to his shoulder, a fruitful attempt to anchor yourself, and he pulls it away. Sanemi presses your hand back against the mattress, interlacing his fingers with yours.

Your pussy flutters around him in time with your thumb stroking over his knuckle, and that’s all it takes.

“Oh fuck —“ Sanemi grunts before he feels himself explode. With a strangled yell, Sanemi’s hips slam into yours, pushing his cock as deep as it can possibly go, and his release crashes into him with mind-blowing force.

it’s the hardest and the most he’s ever come in his entire life. Nothing else has ever or will ever compare to this.

But even as his release spurts heavily inside your honeyed core, Sanemi doesn’t relent in his pace. His hips keep rolling steadily into you, prolonging his release to the point his toes curl, and he wonders whether his nose might start bleeding.

The corners of your mouth tilt up, a pleased groan vibrating loud and wanton in your throat as you feel him fuck his hot seed right into the Eden of your body.

Despite the mind-numbing pleasure of his orgasm, Sanemi won’t let himself look away. The face you make as he fills you up is the prettiest damn thing he’s ever seen.

Sanemi stays buried in your heat for several more moments as he comes down from his high, his head dropping into the crook of your shoulder. With a grunt, he pulls out, dropping down next to you in a flurry of messy blankets and pillows.

You push yourself to your side, a hand coming to push the sweat-dampened ends of his bangs from his eyes. “Good birthday?” You tease, your cheeks flushed bright red, your eyes bright.

“The best,” Sanemi agrees, his eyes scanning your face, committing every detail of you and your post-sex glow to memory.

The two of you lay next to one another for a little while, talking and quietly laughing. Neither one of you seems eager to leave the bed, and Sanemi in particular finds himself hoping today never ends.

Eventually, nature calls and he excuses himself — reluctantly — to the bathroom. When he emerges, he’s greeted with the sight of your ass, bare and exposed as you nestle into the bed, one leg kicking lazily up into the air behind you.

Fuck, you’re too beautiful, and he is far too weak.

He approaches the side of the bed, stretching out one hand to drag teasingly down your spine, until he reaches your ass, knuckles kneading the soft flesh.

His eyes flit to the small clock perched on the hotel nightstand. Sanemi’s grin turns lupine as he reads time reflected by the green-tinted digits.

Sanemi’s fingers skirt down to your ankle, gripping it firmly in his hand. He tugs you over the side of the bed until your head dangles off the edge, your hair stretching towards the ground. “Looks like it’s still my birthday, darling. I ain’t finished enjoying my present yet,” he grips the base of his half-hard cock and taps it against your lips. “And I’ve been dying to cum all over this pretty face of yours.”

—-

True to his word, Sanemi takes him time ravishing his birthday gift. When the clock on the nightstand finally reads 12:01 AM, he flops down next to you, chest heaving as he works to catch his breath.

You lay beside him, panting in tandem with him from the exertion of the night’s activities. There isn’t an inch of you that isn’t sticky as a result of the heady mixture of your sweat and Sanemi’s cum.

You feel his eyes searing into you as you trail a finger through the milky white splattered across your chest — a favorite place of his to cum, as you’d learned, second only to spilling inside of you.

Sanemi hardly holds back a whimper at the way you bring it to your lips, letting your tongue lick your finger clean of his pleasure.

“You’re trying to drive me wild, woman,” he throws a tired arm over his face, shrouding his eyes. “You torture all your hookups like this?”

He’s surprised at how quickly you sit up in bed, your eyes flashing.

“Hookup?”

Sanemi props a fist under his cheek. “Well, yeah,” he winces slightly, searching for more careful words. “I don’t expect anything from you. I appreciate the birthday surprise, though.”

Your gaze is leveled, and your voice even. “I don’t buy lingerie for one-night stands, Sanemi. That shit is an investment.”

His eyes blow wide, and he feels the erratic thrum of his heart stuttering in his throat.

“I want you,” you say firmly. “And I had every intention when I followed you in here tonight for this —“ your hand waves back and forth between your chests. “— to continue.”

It’s a miracle Sanemi is able to speak at all. “I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give.”

You grin. “Well, now that you’ve fucked me, I guess you should take me on a date.” You pause, trailing one delicate finger down his chest. “But I won’t make you wait until we’ve been on three before I let you fuck me again.”

Your hand dips below the edge of the blanket and glides teasingly over his cock, already beginning to stir once more. “You’re far too delicious.”

Sanemi snatches your hand and rolls you under him before you can blink, your answering giggle the sweetest music ever to grace his ears.

“Y’know, in other parts of the world, it’s still the 29th,” he murmurs huskily, grazing his lips against yours. “So by that logic…”

You nod, eyebrows drawn together in seriousness. “We’re obligated to keep celebrating.”

Sanemi’s lips are already trailing down your body, savoring the taste of himself on your skin. He settles back between your legs, marveling at the way your thighs fall to the side so easily to accommodate his mass.

He presses a sweet kiss against your clit. “You’re just the gift that keeps on giving, aren’t you, darlin’?”

[libraryofloveletters]

Portugal Pretenders

Virgil Van Dijk x Fem!Reader

Warnings: fake dating, the boys love to tease virg, past players make an appearance, takes place at robbo's wedding (I just made up random dates, forgive me if it's not accurate lmao), begging for a favour, wedding softness, some teasing, alcohol and the consumption of, a few awkward moments, julia and thiago are their biggest fans, some nsfw humour, virg doesn't know how to use an iron, some childishness at the end, all around sweetness.

Word Count: 7.9k

Author's Note: okay, I've come back to bring you all a new virg fic, since you've been living in my inbox, asking for it. hopefully you like it as much as I do.

---

"And this one's for you," Andy says, passing the light green envelope over to Virgil, catching his friend on his way out. "You've got a plus one, make sure you bring that girlfriend of yours you're always talking about."

Virgil nods, a smile on his face as he takes the invite from Andy. The panic fills his head, slowly moving down to his chest as he walks out of the training centre.

Andy's wedding was coming up in a few weeks. The boys have known about it for months, and as much as Andy insisted to Rachel that they don't need actual invites, she still sent them with her husband to be.

The defender finds himself driving home, thinking about how on earth he was going to find someone to join him at this wedding.

See, the thing was, the boys thought he was seeing something. That wasn't a total lie, as he was seeing someone but it ended as quickly as it started. He wasn't sure how to tell his friends that it was over and it spiralled, coming up with random details to tell them every time they asked about this non-existent girlfriend.

He didn't think Andy would go as far as giving him a plus one.

Virgil pulls into the driveway, opening the envelope as he reads the invite.

Celebrating the marriage of Andy Robertson and Rachel Roberts.

Rehearsal Dinner: July 2nd, 2022 at 7pm

Wedding Ceremony: July 3rd, 2022 at 3pm - Evening Reception to follow.

Join us in Faro, Portugal!

The rest of the details were on the back of the card, the invite was white with green accents to match the envelope. Must be their theme, he thinks, making a mental note to see if he has anything green to match.

He gets out of the car, putting the envelope in his pocket when he sees his neighbour, y/n, pulling into her driveway. He waves to her, the woman smiles at him as she pops her trunk open, a million bags waiting to be taken into the house.

"Need some help?" He offers, crossing the lawn to her driveway.

You smile, nodding. "Sure. Thank you, Virgil."

Virgil starts taking the bags out of the trunk, carrying them over to the front door as you unlock it. "I'm surprised you're home so early." He says.

"Keeping tabs on me?"

"No," he shakes his head, cheeks red. "I meant.. I usually see you come in late."

"Closed the clinic early today, we've got a staff party tomorrow, hence.." You gestured to the bags. Virgil nods, helping her carry them into her kitchen.

The two of you were on friendly terms, Virgil often helped you out around the house if you were busy. Despite being a footballer, he tended to take care of the yard work and you stopped by to make sure were in order at his place if he was away for a match or pre season training.

"How about a cup of tea?" You offered and he smiled, "you sure? I don't want to be a bother."

"Not a bother at all, make yourself at home. It's the least I could do to thank you for your help."

"It wasn't much help, I only carried the bags to the kitchen." He chuckles, sitting on a stool by the counter.

You shrugged, "still. It would have taken me like, 12 trips to get all of them, you used your big footballer muscles and did it in one."

Virgil smiles, watching as you filled the kettle with water and took two mugs out of the cupboard across from him; one with little flowers along the rim of it and the other a red mug Liverpool logo on the front.

"Surprised you have that," he says, you drop the teabags into the mug. "What? This?" You nodded to the red mug. "It'd just be wrong not to support the local team." You two laughed, you referred to Liverpool as if it was a rec league team.

You two are there in silence, you leaned on the counter as you stood across from the footballer. The man looked around while you looked at him, counting to yourself quietly. Once Virgil hears your whispers, he looks over at you with furrowed brows.

"What are you counting?"

"Your wrinkles," you say nonchalantly, pointing to his forehead as you count each one. Virgil rolls his eyes playfully, swatting your hand away. "You okay?"

He nods. "Yeah."

"You sure? I mean, you usually can't see the wrinkles on that big forehead on yours. So unless you've aged drastically since I've last seen you, I'd say you're worried about something."

"Is that your official diagnosis, Dr. L/n?"

"Yup," you nodded, smiling at him as you crossed your arms over your chest. "100%, now tell me, what's on your mind?"

"Well," he sighs as he starts. "I was invited to a wedding today."

"And? Is it for an ex or some cousin you hate?"

"No, nothing like that. It's actually Andy, you know, Robbo?"

You nodded, shutting the stove off when the kettle begans whistling. "He finally put a ring on Rachel? Good for them, tell them congratulations for me."

Virgil smiles, "I will."

"Wait, so if it's for Andy, what's the problem? I thought you two were good friends."

Virgil makes a face, wondering if he should really tell you what's bothering him. "We are, I uh.. I need a date for a wedding."

You laughed, "that's what's worrying you? C'mon Virgil, you're a footballer. You're handsome, you're young..ish- regardless, it shouldn't be too hard for you to get a date."

He rolls his eyes at your comment, "yeah well, easier said than done. Especially since I've - never mind."

"Oh no," you turn to face him after pouring the water into the mugs. "You're not going to leave me hanging like that! What, since you've..?

"Since I've been telling the guys I have a girlfriend. That's why Andy gave me a plus one, I really thought he wouldn't do that."

Your brows furrowed, you were beyond confused now. "Okay, you've officially lost me. You're nervous to ask her to be your date? Or - oh my god! Is she a married woman, Virgil?!"

"No!" He laughed, shaking his head at your outrageous suggestion. "I'd never date a married woman, in fact, I'm not dating anyone."

You were getting the milk from the fridge when what he said finally processed. You turn to face the man, "so wait, let me see if I got this right. You've been telling them you're seeing someone but you're not actually seeing anyone?" You say, looking for some clarification. Virgil nods, avoiding your gaze.

"Why would you lie to them?"

"I really didn't mean too! It wasn't a lie in the beginning. I was seeing this girl, she was cool but we didn't want the same things so it just sort of.. ended? They kept asking and I don't know why I didn't want to tell them the truth but I wasn't sure what to say so I played along and now, well, you know where I've ended up."

You sigh, unsure what to tell him. You didn't even think there was advice to help someone who's gotten themselves into such a position.

"That's a messed up thing you're in, dude." You added the milk to his mug, handing him the one with the flowers. Virgil nods, stirring the spoon in the mug.

"Do you have sugar?"

"Mhm hm," you turned, reaching up into the cupboard to get the sugar from the middle shelf.

Virgil watched, admiring you; not only on a surface level but deeper than that. He likes spending time with you, even if it was something as simple as a chat across the lawn. You were beautiful and kind, funny and smart, your humour was witty and you were charming. You could talk yourself out of a crime if need be - you were exactly who he was looking for.

Seems his lies have sent him in your direction; imagine if he hadn't helped you take your bags in today.

You turned to him with the sugar, you could feel him staring at you but he was sitting there, elbow on the counter with his chin resting in the palm of his hand as he smiled at you.

"What?"

"Will you be my date to the wedding?" He asks and you laugh, taking the top off the sugar jar.

"You're not serious."

"I am, what are you doing in 3 weeks?"

"Probably work, but I can't be your date, virgil."

He pouts, much like a child when they're told no. "Why not?"

"How would that work?"

"It's fine, I'll handle everything y/n. You just need to pack your bags and get the time off work. Hotels, flights, everything we need there, I'll take care of."

"Wait, the wedding isn't here?"

"Portugal," he says, doesn't miss the slight raise of your eyebrows.

"I've always said I'd go back to Portugal, even if it's just for a short time."

"See," Virgil says, "it's like my lying led us here, this can be a good thing for both of us. I'll have a girlfriend for the weekend and you get to visit Portugal again."

You can't help but laugh at his justification. "Please," he says, "I'm begging you now. I'll own you big time." His hands clasped together under his chin as he looked at you with big, brown, puppy eyes.

"Like season passes to your box at Anfield big time?" You asked, a raised eyebrow. Virgil laughs, nodding. "Exactly like that."

"You've got a deal then." You tell him, he smiles. "Perfect, I can't thank you enough."

"Mhm hm, now drink your tea before it gets cold."

--

The week of the wedding arrives faster than expected, you had been in prep mode all week; getting your hair and nails done, trying to pack whatever you think you'd need for a wedding.

A celebrity's wedding isn't different from a normal one, is it? Is that what a footballer is? A celebrity ? Can you call it a celebrity wedding- Your thought was interrupted by a knock on the door.

It's Virgil, a big smile on his face despite it being 8am. "Why are you so happy?" You asked upon opening the door.

"Oh, good morning to you too, sunshine. Are you ready to go?" He makes a face, chuckling. He starts carrying your luggage out of the house as you make one last walk through, assuming you had everything and things were in place for the few days you'd be away.

"Yup, all set." You notice he was putting your suitcase into his car. "You're driving?"

"Yeah, I figured it'd be faster than an Uber."

"We've got," you glanced at your phone, "4 hours before our flight."

"I know, it's fine." He waves you off, shutting the trunk before opening the passenger side door for you. You lock up and walk over the lawn to his driveway, getting into the car.

It was a short drive to the airport, the music played quietly and Virgil hummed as he drove. He glances over to see you typing away on your phone. "Who are you texting so early?"

"Playing the possessive boyfriend already, Virgil?" A raised eyebrow as you looked at the man. His cheeks flush red and he shakes his head. "I'm kidding," you rested a hand on his knee. He looks down and you move your hand. "I was just replying to some work stuff, I've never left them for so long."

"It's only 3 days, they'll be fine. Plus, don't they know you're on vacation?"

"Not really," you set the phone on your lap, "I told them I had some family stuff, couldn't exactly explain that Virgil Van Dijk was asking me- no, begging me, to be his fake wedding date."

"Technically," he points a finger at you, "it's a real wedding date, you're just my fake girlfriend."

"Technicalities, Virgil."

He laughs, pulling into the parking lot. The two of you head into the airport and after checking in, the woman sends the two of you down a hallway that seemed like a dead end.

You didn't travel often but you knew this seemed.. sketchy to say the least.

"Where are we going?" You asked Virgil, the man opens the door for you and leads you right onto the tarmac. There's a plane a few feet away and you turn to look at him, dot connecting in your head. "Private?" You asked him another question.

He nods, "figured I'd spoil my girlfriend," he jokes, smiling at you as you two walked over to the plane.

You sat across from Virgil, checking your phone for the millionth time since you've left home. "You know, they won't be able to reach you when we're in the air, I'm sure they'll be fine."

"I know," you switched it off and set it down before the plane took off.

The two of you were eating breakfast, a rather large spread for being in the air and considering the flight was barely 3 hours.

"So," you set the fork down on the plate, "get me the details, who's gonna be at the wedding?"

Virgil takes a sip of his coffee, "well, Andy and Rachel obviously."

"Obviously," you chuckled.

"Thiago, Jordan, Millie, Adam and their wives, Ox and his girlfriend, us and then Trent."

"What, Trent doesn't get a plus one?"

He shrugs, "I don't know, I don't think he's seeing anyone right now. Plus he's in the states, he said he's coming but we have to see."

You nod, the two of you chat a bit more. Virgil updates you on a few matches, how they think they're going to do, what it's like being captain. You tell him how the clinic is doing, how you're liking it so far compared to when you used to work at the hospital. Just small details that might come up in a conversation with his teammates.

Once you landed, Virgil collected your luggage and you were off to the hotel. It was a short walk to the venue from the hotel, the two of you put your stuff away and decided to go for a walk, grabbing a coffee before heading back to the hotel.

The rehearsal dinner was in a few hours, giving you two more than enough time to get ready. "We need to get our story straight," he says to you when you come in from the balcony.

"What story ?"

"Our outfits," he says with total seriousness, "what are you wearing tonight?"

You shook your head with a small smile on your face, taking the two dresses out of the wardrobe to show him; a light blue dress with a halter top, the small white flowers going from the waist to the bottom hem and the other was a burnt orange that was backless.

"I figured the blue was a bit more family friendly, classy enough without being too dressy," you hold it up to yourself to show him. He nods, "yeah, good. It's pretty."

You hung it back in the wardrobe before turning to him. "What are you going to wear?"

"We need to match." He was already searching through his suitcase for the shirt to match your dress. "Do we really need to?" You sat on the edge of the bed, looking at him.

He nods, pulling out the baby blue shirt. "This is close enough, no?"

"Yeah, but why does it look like you've had it rolled up in the bottom of a box for like.. 4 years?" Your brows furrowed as you looked at the state of it. Virgil shakes the shirt, trying to rid it of the permanent wrinkles. "Do you not have an iron, Virgil?"

"I do, but uh, I forgot to iron it."

You shook your head, getting up to search for the iron you knew you saw. You find it in the drawer in the wardrobe, handing it to him. Virgil spreads the shirt on the bed, plugging the iron in before fiddling with the settings. He looks between the iron, the shirt and you, a bit clueless before attempting to iron the shirt.

He works on the sleeve, making it worse than it was before, you watch as he helplessly works at the shirt. You figured maybe you were making him nervous in some weird way so you excused yourself to the bathroom to unpack your makeup and hair stuff.

When you came back, 7 minutes later, he was still working on the same sleeve. Your lips pressed together, arms folded over your chest as you watched.

"What?" He asked, glancing at you.

"You're terrible at that. Do you not know how to iron?"

He sighs, "it's been years since I've had to do it, I usually just get my stuff dry cleaned."

You smiled as you walked over, taking the iron from him and putting him out of his misery. "If I leave you to iron this, you might take the whole 3 hours to finish it. Why don't you go shower or whatever you need to do, I'll do it for you."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, go. Before you ruin the shirt," you shook your head, switching the setting from wool to cotton. You wondered how he ended up on wool to begin with. "Thank you," he smiles, walking into the bathroom.

While he showers, you finish up on his shirt and hang it on a hanger in the wardrobe. You also looked for his pants, ironing the 3 pairs of dress pants he had brought as you didn't know which one he'd be wearing.

Virgil returns to the room post shower, white towel wrapped around him that sat right below his hips, and you had just shut the wardrobe after hanging up his pants. You turn to find him behind you, your eyes fixed on the man; the water dripping down his chest, down to his stomach and it stops at the towel wrapped around his waist.

"You're staring, y/n." He says, you can hear the smirk on his face before your eyes meet his face.

It's not like you've never seen him shirtless before, he used the pool in his yard quite often, not to mention the glimpse of him you catch in the media or what the Liverpool account posts.

Clearing your throat, you blink a few times before speaking. "I uh, I ironed your pants as well, I wasn't sure which ones you were gonna wear so I ironed all of them."

He smiles, "thanks."

You nod, excusing yourself to the bathroom to shower. You shut the door, back pressed to it for a moment before going about your routine. You weren't sure how long you were in there but you had showered, done your hair and you were mid way through your makeup when there was a knock on the door.

"Can I come in?" Virgil calls from the other side of the door. "I need to fix my hair." He says and you open the door for him, concealer all over your face, hair pinned up with the robe wrapped around you.

He smiles when he sees you; you look so.. well, beautiful but there was something else, a domesticity of sorts. The two of you getting ready in the same bathroom, there's some intimate in the way you were seeing each other right now. Moving in silence as you both did your own thing beside one another.

You break the silence, "how did we meet?"

"We're neighbours..?" His eyes meet yours in the mirror, confusion all over his face.

"I mean if they ask, your teammates. What did you tell them?"

"Oh," he says, wrapping the hair tie around his hair. "I told them we met through mutual friends, my friend, Kevin. His wife knows you and we were all at the same party and we hit it off from there."

You hum, finishing up on your makeup. You were searching for your lipstick, "and how long have we been together?" You find the one you were looking for.

"Almost a year. If my math is right, it should be like.. 10 months?"

The lipstick in your hand, you look at Virgil with a shocked look on your face. "You've been lying to them for almost a year? How the hell did you manage that?"

His lips pressed together then he shrugs, which makes you laugh. "Okay," you nod, "almost a year it is." You turn back to the mirror, applying your lipstick.

Virgil watches as you do it, your hands steady while you go over your lips, pressing them together to make the colour even. "What do we think?" You asked, turning to him when you notice he's watching.

"Beautiful," he smiles, "truly."

"So cheesy," you chuckled, walking out of the bathroom to change into your dress.

The two of you head down to the venue a few minutes later, all dressed and ready to meet his teammates at the rehearsal dinner.

Before you walked in, Virgil grabbed your hand which caught you off guard. Your fingers interlocked with his and it took you a moment to realize why he did that; the two of you were a couple, of course.

It was already full in there, most of their family had already arrived and a few friends were scattered through the venue. You see a few of his teammates but Virgil leads you to the front, tapping Andy on the shoulder.

"Virg!" Andy smiles, pulling Virgil into a hug. "You made it," he steps back and sees you next to the man, his grin only widening. "You must be the famous girlfriend we hear about all the time."

"That would be me," you smiled, "I'm y/n, it's nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too, this is Rachel, bride to be." He introduces you to his fiancee. You smiled at her, the two of you exchanging niceties.

"It's nice of you to make it, Andy was saying how he was certain Virgil wouldn't be bringing you." Rachel says, her arm interlocked with Andy's.

"Well to be fair, Virg seemed a bit nervous to ask me to come but I wouldn't miss it for the world. I don't think I've said it but congratulations."

Virgil's heart skips a beat, it wasn't out of ordinary that someone called him Virg, but you've never had. You always called him Virgil, so to hear the nickname come out of your mouth, make him rather.. soft.

"It's my fault," Andy starts, "we did tell Virg to bring you around before but he always said you were busy with work. So I think it's fair of me to think you were fake."

You laughed, "I can assure you I'm alive and real, feel free to pinch me to confirm." Andy laughed at your comment, smiling at his teammate in approval of you. Virgil returns the smile.

"Anyways, make yourselves comfortable, we're going to start the rehearsal soon." Rachel tells the two of you, leading Andy off to greet someone else.

Virgil's hand rests on your lower back, the two of you sitting towards the middle of the chairs, watching as they went through the rehearsal. It was mostly family, his teammates were only there so they could all mingle and catch up as they had been on break for a few weeks at this point.

At some point after they were done the run through, Virgil suggested drinks and you followed him to the bar, his hand once again on your lower back.

"Virg!" You hear someone call for him, the two of you turning at the same time to see who was coming his way. Both Jordan and Millie were making their way over to the two of you.

"Hey," Virgil smiles at his teammates. "Guys, this is y/n, my girlfriend. This is Jordan and James."

You smiled at the men, "it's nice to meet you both."

"We thought you weren't coming," Millie says and Jordan follows up with a, "it's nice to meet you, we thought you weren't real."

"That seems to be the general consensus tonight," you laughed.

Ox makes his way over to the bar, seeing his teammate with a woman he's never seen before. "You must be Virgil's girlfriend, I'm Ox." He introduces himself.

"I'm y/n, nice to meet you."

"I can't believe you're actually here."

You turn to Virgil, making a face at him. "Why do all your teammates think I'm not real?"

"He wouldn't show us pictures," Millie says, shrugging. "I guess that's true," you nudged Virgil, "between Virg's practices and games, and then with my work, we barely get time to see each other and when we do, we're not on our phones."

Jordan makes a face, looking between you and Virgil and you instantly know what he's thinking. "No!" You laughed, shaking your head. "That's so not what I meant."

"What is it that you do, y/n?" Ox pipes up.

"I'm a doctor, an OB actually."

"Oh wow," Ox smiles at his teammate. "She's good, you've got good taste, big man. I see why she hasn't been around."

You smile, your phone buzzing in your hand. You excuse yourself, walking away to take the phone call. You can hear the boys talking behind you, you glance over your shoulder and smile at Virgil, the man's heart skipping a beat. Despite you not being his actual girlfriend, it did feel good to get the approval from his teammates.

Virgil hadn't even realized how long he had been chatting with his teammates, he went in search of you and found you just outside, chatting with Julia, the two of you talking about their kids.

"There you are," Virgil says, walking down the steps towards you. You smile at him, "I see you've met Julia." He gives the woman a quick hug before standing beside you.

"Yeah," you smiled at her, "I'm mad at you, you know."

"What for?" His brows furrowed, looking at you. He's wondering what he could have possibly done.

"You've been hiding me from her, Julia and I are best friends now."

The blonde smiles at you, "yes we are. We've already made plans to get lunch when we get back to Liverpool. I can't believe you've never brought her around before, Virgil." She tells him, her voice similar to the one she uses when she scolded her children, and or Thiago, when they misbehave.

"Oh well, I'm sure y/n's told you about her hectic schedule. Blame her, not me. I do hope you two have fun at this lunch." He laughs, his arm over your shoulder.

The rest of the night was quiet, everyone caught up with each other with their summer plans and you met the rest of the players and their partners over the course of the night. Eventually you two decide to call it a night, heading back to the hotel.

You were by the door, taking your heels off when you saw Virgil stop in the middle of the room, in front of the bed.

"What's wrong?" You asked him, walking over. You seem to realize what he's thinking; there's only one bed.

Not like they've taken a bed out of the room while you were gone but you two had been too tired and too busy getting ready for the dinner that neither of you seemed to register that there was in fact, only one bed in the room.

It didn't occur to Virgil when booking the room that you'd need a separate bed, you weren't really a couple after all.

"I'll take the couch," you tell him, not wanting him to feel bad for his slight mess up.

He shook his head, turning to you. "No, it's fine. I'll take the couch, you take the bed."

You glance at the couch next to the window, it was spacious - that's if you were under 5 foot. There's no way he'd sleep comfortably if he did manage to fit on it.

"You know what, we're both adults. We'll sleep together." You tell him, his eyes widening at your words. "Not what I meant," you smack his arm. "We can both fit on the bed comfortably, no need for either of us to suffer on the couch."

"You're sure?" He asks and you nod, "of course, but hands to yourself mister." You pointed a finger to him, making him laugh.

Virgil raises his hands, "I swear I'll be on my best behaviour," he says, watching you walk into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

--

The sun peeks through the curtains, waking you from your sleep. You shut your eyes, trying to get a few more minutes but you can hear the shower running and then shuts off followed by the bathroom door opening. The smell of Virgil's body wash fills the room and you sit up, rubbing your eyes.

"Mornin' sunshine," he smiles at you, sitting on the edge of the bed. You yawn, stretching as you try to wake yourself up. "What time is it?"

"10:27," he looks at the clock, "how about some breakfast?"

"Yes please," you get out of bed, fixing the comforter as you walk to the bathroom. "Lots of coffee please," you smiled at him, shutting the door.

Virgil orders room service while you shower, you return to the room just as it arrives. The two of you sit on the couch, eating breakfast in comfortable silence. Virgil grabs his phone, "Andy sent over some pictures from last night," he shows you a few photos that the groom to be had sent.

"Those are cute, send them to me."

Your phone buzzes on the bed and you look over at the clock, "shit, I've got to do my hair." You set the cup down on the table and walk towards the bathroom. "Do you need the bathroom?"

"No, I'm good." he tells you, "do your thing."

You walk in and walk back out, leaning on the door frame. "What are you wearing today?"

He smiles, "don't worry, I ironed it and put it in the closet."

"Properly?" You asked, walking over to confirm.

"Yes," he shook his head, watching as you took the shirt out to confirm that he did in fact iron it properly. "Wow, good job. Big upgrade from yesterday."

"Watched a YouTube video," he says, making you laugh.

You leave Virgil in the room, off to shower and then to start on your makeup and hair as you weren't 100% sure what look you wanted to do. Virgil left you alone, letting you get ready in peace. He could hear the music playing, your humming accompanying the melody.

He thought to himself that it was something he could get used to, that his house would feel so quiet and empty without you humming.

The line between real and fake seemed to be getting blurred more and more as the time went by.

"Virg?" You called for the man, he got up from his spot on the couch. He had been ready for some time, you still had an hour before you needed to leave. "Yeah?"

"Can you zip me up?"

You stepped out of the bathroom, hair pulled over your shoulder with your dress on. He smiles, nodding as he walks over to you; the sage green dress hugged your body in the right places, it was as if the dress was made for you and only you.

Virgil's hand rests on your waist, the other holds the zipper and gives it a soft tug, pulling it up to the top. The hand holding the zipper now turns into fingers trailing down the curve of your spine, coming to rest on the other side of your hip. "There you go."

Turning around to face him, Virgil's hands remained on your hips. "Thank you," you look up. He nods, "you look.. wow."

You can't help but laugh, straightening his shirt. "You look pretty wow yourself."

Virgil lets go of you when you take a step back, walking to the vanity to put your jewelry on. It takes the two of you half an hour to gather the last minute things you needed, assuring you were ready before heading out for the ceremony.

It's a short walk to the venue, everyone was being ushered into the church to take their seats while the bridal party was lining up to walk in when you two arrived.

The weather was beautiful, the sun was out and the church was full with their families and friends; they couldn't ask for a better start to their wedding day.

The ceremony was short and sweet, Andy and Rachel exchanging vows and promises, everyone was beyond happy for them.

Most of the guests were now outside, the doors to the church open as everyone was heading out.

You stood next to Virgil by the stairs, letting him block the sun from your face as you checked your phone. You hear the footsteps before you hear the voice. "You're actually here, you're real?" The Scouse accent thick, Trent.

"I am real," you looked up, smiling at the man who looks like he's seen better days. "You must be Trent."

"Yeah, it's nice to meet you. Excuse me." He says, covering a yawn with his hand.

Before you two could speak, Andy was calling the two players over for a group photo. You stop Virgil, standing on your tiptoes to reach his collar, his hand on your hip you keep you steady as you fix it before sending him on his way; a small act of intimacy that you'd only find between a couple.

You had been checking your emails, something you knew Virgil would complain about if he caught you doing it yet again. You were so caught up that you hadn't noticed him calling your name. When you do, you look up, making a hand motion as to ask him what he wants. He waved you over, pointing to the spot in front of him. Your brows furrowed, still unsure what he wanted as the dots didn't seem to connect. Virgil realized as much, pointing towards the photographer and then back to the spot in front of him.

Only then did it click what he meant.

You head over, joining the other girlfriends and wives in the photo. Andy and Rachel were front and centre, the rest of you around them.

"Alright everyone, squeeze in a bit more please!" The photographer shouts, showing you all with his hands to move closer to each other.

Virgil moves you from beside him to in front of him, his arm over your shoulder and your hand instinctively reaches up, fingers interlocking with his.

The photographer gives everyone a moment to situate themselves, "perfect, alright everyone look here! Smile!"

A few moments later, you were all allowed to move. Andy and Rachel were off to take some more photos, there was only about 30 minutes before the reception which wasn't too far from the church.

Everyone makes their way over, waiting for the official entrance from Andy and Rachel as Mr and Mrs Robertson for the first time.

You were sat next to Virgil, Jordan and his wife, Rebecca, to the right of Virgil and Thiago and Julia to your left.

Andy and Rachel were having their first dance, the whole venue was quiet as you all watched the two of them, wrapped up in love and giggling as they whispered to each other mid dance.

You wiped the outer corner of your eye, blinking a few times in an attempt to save your makeup. Virgil turns slightly when he hears a small sniffle. He sees your watery eyes, smiling to himself and leans in to whisper to you; "are you crying?"

"Shut up," you whispered back, turning him back around with a small nudge. "Weddings make me emotional."

The evening was quiet, dinner consisted of everyone chatting, Andy and Rachel made the rounds to say hello to everyone who they didn't get a chance to talk to at the church. Eventually they reopened the bar and the dance floor, everyone started making their way around, mingling, drinking and dancing.

You were replying to a message when Virgil came over, two shot glasses in hand. He passes one to you, "to Andy and Rachel," he says, tapping his glass to you. The two of you down the shots, tequila, based on the after taste.

"Okay, let's go dance!"

"I don't dance, Virg."

"It's a wedding, you have to dance!" He takes your phone from you, putting it into his pocket and grabbing your hand. "Virg," you groaned, the man ignores your pleas and takes you to the dance floor, spinning you around.

Before you know it, the two of you are giggling and dancing, his arms over your shoulders as he hugs you from behind, swaying to the music.

"I'm gonna get a drink," you tell him and the man lets you go while nodding before shimmying his way over to Trent, who looks like he was about to fall asleep in his chair. You laughed, leaving Virgil to bother Trent as you walked to the bar.

You had barely made it to the bar when someone shouted for you. "Y/n!" You see Thiago off to the side, "can you take a picture for us?"

"Sure," you take the phone from him, he and Julia standing together, arms wrapped around each other as they smiled, then Thiago kissed her.

Sometimes you wonder what it'd be like if you had a stable and loving relationship like theirs.

"I thought you got lost!" Virgil says, walking towards you. You shook your head, handing the phone back over to Thiago. The Spaniard then turns, passing the phone to Virgil. "Okay now you come in, let him take the picture."

"Are you sure?" You asked, Thiago was already pulling you into the photo.

He nods, you and Julia on either side of him, the 3 of you smiling as Virgil takes the photo, the camera flashing. Thiago steps out, letting you and Julia have some together, his wife telling him something about they have enough pictures of them together. You laughed, the two of you smiling for the camera.

"Do you want one together?" Thiago looks at Virgil, who then looks at you and you shrug, waving him over. Virgil hands his phone to Thiago while Julia replaces him by her husband's side.

Virgil's arm over your shoulder, your arm around his waist, the two of you smiling while Virgil pulls you into his side. "Alright Virg, give your lady a kiss." Thiago says, smiling.

Your 'boyfriend's' cheeks are red, a flush he can blame on the Portuguese heat or the liquor but you know the real reason. "Come on man, what are you waiting for?!" Thiago says, laughing at Virgil's shyness.

"Leave them alone," Julia tells her husband, rolling her eyes at his childishness.

"It's fine," you whisper to Virgil, turning to him a bit. He looks at you, whispering back, "you sure?" You stood close, the air between you two charged with a mixture of tension and anticipation.

"Mhm hm," your hand rests on his chest while he leans down, you tip toe a bit, meeting him half way when he kisses you.

But as your hand found its way to Virgil's cheek and your lips met against each other's, something shifted. What was meant to be a quick moment blossomed into something real, something raw. When you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, a shared realization dawned upon them.

The kiss may have been staged, but the feelings it stirred within were undeniably genuine.

As you glanced at each other, a silent understanding passed between you and Virgil. This fake relationship may have begun as a charade, but perhaps, just perhaps, it held the promise of something more.

Thiago grinned, "perfect. The picture of love," he says, handing the phone back to Virgil. You smiled, your own cheeks now flushed and red. You reached over, your thumb brushed over his lips to wipe away the lipstick left behind. Virgil's arm wraps around your shoulder, the two of you chatting as you join Thiago and Julia for a round of shots.

The night wrapped up just after midnight, everyone waiting at the front to wish Andy and Rachel well, seeing them off as they left before everyone else headed to wherever home was after that.

Virgil's jacket over your shoulders while you walked back to the hotel. Despite the humidity earlier in the day, there was now a slight chill in the air.

"Did you have a good time?" He asks, opening the door for you. "I did," you walk in, waiting for the elevator to your room. "Thank you for bringing me."

"Thank you for coming, you really saved my ass."

It hits you in the moment that this was in fact, fake. You were doing him a favour, you weren't a couple, you never will be. Just a good friend helping him out in a tough situation.

When you returned to the room, Virgil announced that he's gonna go take a shower while you got ready for bed. The two of you moved in silence, you sat at the vanity taking your makeup off while the sound of the water running filled the room. You had to remind yourself that this wasn't real yet again.

All the feelings felt over the weekend were just for show. Certainly Virgil didn't feel the same way you did.

The steam filled the bathroom, Virgil lets the water run as he stands there. The kiss was real, the moments you shared were real, his feelings for you were real.

How the hell was he used to bring it up without it being awkward?

The shower shut off just as you were about to get into bed. Your phone bus is on the nightstand, and you reach over to grab it. There's a notification from Instagram.

juliavigas tagged you in a post. - 2mins ago.

You opened it, checking to see what she posted. There's a few photos from the wedding. Some of her and Thiago, the venue, one of you and her, as well as the one with you, her and Thiago. She also included the one in front of the church, Virgil's arm wrapped around you as you all smiled.

Virgil finds his way to the bed, sitting next to you. "What's so interesting?"

"Julia posted some pictures," you show your phone, letting him scroll through the pictures. "I guess everyone will think we're together now." He looks at the one in front of the church before handing the phone back to you.

"Wasn't that the whole point?" You ask, setting your phone on the nightstand.

"I guess so," he shrugs, the two of you sitting there in silence, the tv playing quietly in the background. There's a million thoughts going through his head at this very moment.

As he looked over at you, in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, Virgil couldn't help but admire your beauty, the way your eyes sparkled with a warmth that mirrored a flickering flame. It was in shared moments like these that he felt a pull, a force pulling him closer, urging him to take that leap of faith. But as the silence went on, Virgil felt the weight of his hesitation, suffocating him with its embrace.

How could he confess his feelings when the fear of rejection spun around in his mind, an unwelcome shadow over his every thought?

He glances at you once more, your eyes meeting in a brief exchange, Virgil felt a sense of longing wash over him, a wave of emotion threatening to consume him whole.

Still, the words remained unspoken, trapped behind the barricade of his uncertainty.

He had to take the leap of faith, he wouldn't know if he didn't try.

"What are we?" He blurts out, breaking the silence.

You turn, looking at him with a confused expression. "What are.. what do you mean?"

"Well.. we.. we kissed, so like, are we.. what are we?"

"We're not in high school, Virg. A kiss is a kiss, no?"

His smile fades, your heart breaking the moment you see that. He nods, turning his attention back to the tv. "Yeah, no. Of course."

"I'm kidding," your hand rests over his on the bed, "if you're asking me if I like.. if I like you, then I'll only answer if you put it into a note, like high school." You raised your eyebrows, making him chuckle.

"Yeah, okay." He nods. The topic was dropped, the tension lifting slightly.

--

The next morning, you and Virgil leave bright and early, heading to the airport for your flight back to England. The plane had barely taken off and you were still not fully awake, nursing your coffee as Virgil's fingers drummed on his knee.

"Dude," you groaned, "I have a headache, it sounds like you're playing a gong right now."

He stops tapping on his leg, brows furrowed and lips twisted in a weird expression. "Can you play a gong? Is that what it is?"

"I don't know, you know what I mean." You tell him, leaning your head back, eyes shut. You barely got all but 3 minutes of silence before Virgil speaks up again. "Do you have a pen?"

You open your eyes, reaching over to dig through your purse next to you before fishing out a pen and handing it to him. You watch him as he uncaps it, scribbling something down on the napkin in front of him, sliding it over the table to you with the pen.

'Do you like me? Check yes or no.' The two little boxes labeled yes and no under his question.

You smile, shaking your head at his childishness and the fact that he took what you said seriously. You picked up the pen, checking a box and sliding it over to him.

The yes was checked, Virgil glances at you with a cheeky smile before picking up the pen, flipping over the napkin and writing something else before sliding it back to you.

'Will you be my girlfriend?' the same yes and no boxes drawn under the question.

Your answer was yes but you wouldn't give into him so quickly. You picked up the pen, chin in the palm of your head thinking as if it was the hardest question of your life. You can see Virgil shifting nervously in his seat, and it's as if you can hear him overthinking his decision to ask you.

To put him out of his misery, you check a box and slide it back over to him.

There's a sigh of relief when he sees you've checked yes. You toss the pen at him playfully, shaking your head. "You're so cheesy."

"You said to ask it in a note!" He says, folding the napkin and putting it into his pocket.

"I didn't think you'd actually do it!" You laughed, the man shook his head and unbuckled, leaving over the table. His hands cupping your face, smiling at you before he kisses you.

Your hand interlocked with his, stretched over the table when he sat back down. "How about when we get back, I take you on an actual date?"

Your thumb brushes over his hand. "Not sick of me yet?"

"Could never get sick of you, y/n."

--

taglist: @thesnailus @alwaysclassyeagle @lettersfromvenus @mehrmonga @callsignvenus @kmc1989 @valentinehrts @pulpfixion @ironmaiden1313 @candacels @muglermami @leclerces @yuoluver @themandaloriansdiaries

[innerfare]

Sanji Fluff // Angst Compilation

Summary: A compilation of Sanji angst and fluff from my multi character posts (You're Wounded, Brushing Your Teeth Together, Flowers, Type of Date, You See His Cabin, Fighting and Making Up, Paradise, Nightmares, I Love You, You're Jealous).

Genre: Fluff // Angst

CW: None // SFW

———

You’re Wounded: 

Fusses over you while you see to your own wound, feels like they dodged a bullet, blames themselves for any harm that comes to you. “Never again,” they promise themself, bringing you a hot cup of tea to soothe you. 

Brushing Your Teeth Together: 

Slings his arm around you, gets a little too distracted by the sight of you brushing your teeth, ends up standing there with his mouth open and his toothbrush hanging out. Ends up speed running his when you’re finished so he can follow you out of the bathroom. 

Flowers: 

Classic red roses, at least a dozen at a time. He’ll buy you roses in shades of white and pink, as well as the occasional yellow, but a dozen red roses is his go to. He also makes very good use of the petals. Doesn’t need a special occasion to present you with a bouquet. In fact, he always makes sure you have fresh flowers on your nightstand. Additionally, he’s learned to cook a few dishes with edible flowers in them for you, presenting you with all manner of chamomile, chive blossom, and pansy dishes. 

Type of Date: 

This man will take you on the best picnic of your life, a picnic so good he’ll have you wondering why you ever thought restaurants were the epitome of fine dining. It won’t just be delicious, it will be an aesthetic dream, with a wicker basket, checkered blanket, and even a small bouquet of flowers in a glass jar. If he takes you on a picnic beneath the stars, he’ll light candles and be sure to have an extra blanket to keep you warm. Oh, and champagne. Definitely will open a bottle of champagne. 

You See His Cabin For The First Time: 

Sparkling clean, and yet, he’ll apologize anyway because the pillows aren’t fluffy enough, the rug isn’t completely straight, etcetera. His closet is very well organized, all of his clothes ironed and properly taken care of (Sanji’s the rare type to actually read labels and do his laundry accordingly). His most prized possession is a book on the All Blue, which he’s poured over countless times, using color coded tabs to flag various pages and writing detailed notes in the margins. He also came across one of Zeff’s old wanted posters in Loguetown, and he keeps it framed next to his own, the closest thing he has to a family photo. 

Fighting and Making Up: 

He’s far too protective over you, and it causes a lot of fights. He treats you like a china doll, and though that can be quite nice at times, he needs to understand you’re not made of glass. Alternatively, he’s the type to get upset with you for being too friendly to other men. There was also a miscommunication where he cooked something you didn’t like and you weren’t exactly gentle in your reaction to it, you thinking he already knew you didn’t like that thing when he didn’t actually know, him thinking you had an issue with his cooking and not an issue with one of the ingredients. He’s the type to bring you flowers even if you were in the wrong in order to jumpstart the making up process. Your fights never last long because Sanji can’t sleep, can’t eat, can barely even pull himself out of bed if the two of you are on the outs (early childhood trauma can be that way). 

Paradise 1: 

Wandering through a flower field and picking some of the more beautiful blooms that catch your eye, sprawling out on a picnic blanket in the late morning to bask in the sweet scent, enjoying the breeze as it ruffles your hair, weaving some of the flowers you picked into a delicate crown that they wear proudly while the two of you share sweet kisses. 

Paradise 2: 

Waiting until late evening to meet beneath a peach tree, speaking at first in hushed tones, worrying someone is on to the two of you, eventually forgetting about all of that and settling into easy conversation about nothing and everything simultaneously, him jumping up to pick a peach for you to have as an evening snack, you taking advantage of the last bit of light to carve both of your initials into the tree trunk. 

Nightmares: 

You’re in the clutches of his brothers while his father watches on in approval, and he’s trying to save you but to no avail. Suddenly, he’s seven years old again- too small, too slow, too weak to put up a fight, completely at the mercy of his brothers. Only, they aren’t tormenting him, they’re tormenting you, and from the looks on their faces, they sure are enjoying it. The look on your face, though, is one of complete anguish. And then you scream in pain, and he’s awake again, sitting up in bed with a sheen of sweat on his skin, the image of your face in such pain burned into his brain. He doesn’t register that it was only a nightmare until he puts eyes on you, and even then, it takes him several days to recover from the nightmare. 

I Love You: 

Sanji technically confesses first, but you’re the one who actually says those three words. He’s holding your hand in both of his, clutching it close to his racing heart, as he looks down at you, telling you all the ways you make his life better, all the things he’s looking forward to doing with you, all the energy he’s going to put into keeping you happy, healthy, and safe. And the words just sort of fall from your lips. He stops mid sentence, eyes wide and mouth open. The seconds drag on in silence before he’s pulling your lips to his. Both of you are very generous with these three words, saying them often and in public. If you ever hang up the transponder snail without telling him you love him, he’s calling you right back to make sure everything is alright. (Also, not really relevant, might do a separate post about this, but Sanji is definitely a heart-shaped jewelry sort of guy. He just is. Certified lover boy.) 

You’re Jealous: 

Even with a third eye, Pudding is stunning. And Sanji almost married her. It was before you two were together, but listening to the stories from Whole Cake, hearing how close he came to marrying another woman, knowing she really did fall in love with his kind heart and wonderful cooking, turns you into a little green monster. You know you shouldn’t feel jealous of a woman you’ve never met before, a woman Sanji chose not to marry, but you can’t help it. Sanji is completely shocked that you would feel jealous over his relationship (if it could even be called that) with Pudding, though after thinking about it some more, he does realize why you might be jealous that he had a fiancé. His solution is to bring you a bouquet of roses and walk you through the dark details of his life, telling you things he’s never outright told anyone, so you understand the special place you have in his life. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[pedriscroquettes]

𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐀 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐀 ✵ ENZO VOGRINCIC

summary. pipe gives away way too much information when he’s drunk.

warnings. suggestive 18+ minor pipe otaño x f!reader

a/n. based off bota niña by bad gyal 🫦

you were beginning to regret accepting the boy’s invitation of hitting a club to celebrate the premiere of the movie. they had convinced you to join reminding you of the countless months you’d spent on set making sure everyone was taken care of. the large group had managed to reserve a secluded section big enough for the cast and their friends. you could barley hear anyone over the loud music blaring in the venue.

you were glad the tab wouldn’t fall on you as the boys kept ordering group shots and bottles of bacardi and champagne. you went slow not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of the cast. the last thing you wanted was to make a fool of yourself in front of your coworkers. you had image to keep up with.

“i’m gonna miss you.” pipe slurred as he laid his head against your arm.

“i’m gonna miss you too pipe.” you sighed not believing that you were probably never gonna see any of the guys again.

“can i kiss you?” he blurts out.

“pipe you’re drunk.” you try not to laugh as his drunk self betrays him.

“well i tried! i was so stupid to believe that you liked me over enzo.” he slouches back in his seat as he accepts defeat.

“over enzo? what does he have to do with this?” you ask him intrigued.

enzo had been the coworker you’d least interacted with during filming. he tended to spend more time with the guys and often kept to himself since he was practically the only uruguayan on set. on the few occasions that the two of you had spoken he had been cordial but reserved. it lowkey pissed you off because it left you wanting to know more. seeing him in the finished product was worse because he was full of talent and you had been so close to him yet so far.

“it’s so obvious he likes you.” he says as he tries to reach out for another shot but you intercept him. he’s had enough to drink tonight.

“you’re not funny pipe.” your eyes wander around the room until they land on the topic of conversation. his slicked back hair alone is enough to make you squirm. you quickly turn your attention back to the argentine in front of you.

“i’m the funniest person here besides franco.” he scoffs. “besides enzo was always asking about you on set and i’ve caught him staring. he totally likes you.”

“you’re so full of shit.” you shake your head as you laugh. “i’m gonna go have fun now so the hangover doesn’t bother me as much in the morning.”

you stand up adjusting your dress in the process. it was an absolute pain to always have to pull your dress down whenever it rode up but the high of the movie premiere was too strong to care. it was as if pipe’s observation had given you a wave of confidence and you found yourself standing in front of the others.

“does anyone want to come dance with me?” you ask in the nicest tone possible.

“enzo does!” pipe yells and you can’t help but send a glare towards him.

“no, my dancing is terrible.” enzo nervously giggles as he feels everyone’s eyes land on him.

“he’s lying!” franco throws him under the bus.

“i’ve seen him dance he’s decent.” esteban adds on to the teasing.

“he doesn’t need to come if he doesn’t want to. it’s fine.” you feel the heat rise up to your cheeks at their banter.

“nope! he’s going. he’s the best dancer i’ve ever seen.” pipe continues with his banter.

“enzo! enzo! enzo!” the rest of the people begin to chant as they egg him on. you were regretting asking them anything.

he stands up giving into the pressure from his cast mates. even though the club is dark and the lights are dim you can still notice the pink hue on his cheeks. he’s either embarrassed or flustered and you were beginning to feel bad.

“you don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to. i don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” you told him as he approached you.

“it’s fine besides it’ll give them something to talk about.” he smirked as the two of you headed towards the center of the room.

the club is dimly lit but you’re easily able to see people surrounding the two of you. they’re mostly all couples with the occasional group of friends somewhere in the mix. it also doesn’t help that it’s basically old reggaeton music blaring from the speakers meaning it was meant to be danced closely with your partner. you’re too shy to do anything and you quite literally stand there frozen unsure of what to do next.

“you can’t go all shy on me now.” he wraps his arms around your waist pulling you closer to him. “just a couple of minutes ago you were asking for a dancing partner.”

you try to not look shocked after all he is a man and he has his wants. but you have your needs. truth be told you had barely been romantically involved with anyone since filming had begun and wrapped. you were craving the attention of someone and you didn’t mind if it came from the extremely attractive protagonist. a newfound confidence had formed between the two of you and the music only encouraged you.

“so you don’t mind me touching you, right?” you ask him with a subtle smirk.

the dim lights manage to illuminate his face as he smiles at you. the moment occurring is intimate and probably the most you had ever interacted with him throughout the past three years you knew him. you couldn’t help but admire him, his attractiveness being too much for his own good. he didn’t realize how good looking he was but you had a feeling he would soon.

“depends, how?” he brings his lips near your ears due to the music to make sure you could hear him. the act making you shiver.

“like this.” you place your palm on his chest slowly trailing it down his chest. you lowered your body to the beat of the music at the same time. you surprised your self at how your body moved and how willingly you did it for him.

“fuck.” he murmured trying to make sure you didn’t hear him but you managed to catch it anyways. it was definitely an ego boost, you’d tell your friends about this.

you try to do it again but he grabs you and brings you chest to chest with him. he analyzes you and your breath hitches the suspense killing you. you’re not sure what he’s thinking and you don’t know if you just scared him off. he creeps his hand up your neck to your jaw cupping your face. he removes the couple of strands of hair that are blocking your face. his face gets closer to yours–your heart beating faster. one blink and his lips are on yours capturing them into a sensual rhythm.

you’re perfectly still for a moment not expecting a kiss from him but that doesn’t last long. you’re moving your lips against his in a second. his hand remains firm on your jaw as he kisses you. the two of you pull away for a second to catch your breath’s. you look up at him trying to decipher his feelings. you realize he liked it as much as you did when he leaned in for another one.

normally you would feel bad about the blatant pda in front of others but you weren’t thinking straight. maybe it was the lack of oxygen due to your lips being connected with his but all you wanted was to enjoy the passionate kisses he was giving you. your hand found it’s way into his messy hair tugging at the strands causing deep groans from him. it triggered something inside you. you’d never been kissed like this before nor held like this. you were so entranced by him you barely noticed the way his hand lowered down your body.

“you want to grab my ass and you haven’t even asked me out yet.” you remove his hand from your waist teasing him.

“oh come on you know how busy i’ve been.” he jokes. “come back to my room and i’ll make up for it.”

you offer him a forced smile clearly amused by his sudden confidence and his tempting offer. it was almost enough to make you break. but you didn’t want to be a simple one night stand he would forget. you may have found him attractive but you weren’t gonna lose your dignity.

“no enzo if you really want to make it up to me you’ll come to mine with dinner.” you kiss him on the cheek. “you know where to find me.” you say referring to fact that the whole cast was staying in the same hotel for the premiere.

you head towards the hotel dragging pipe and franco along with you. the two of them being so drunk you can barely get them into their rooms. when you were finally alone you brought your fingers up to your lips reminiscing about enzo and the feel of his lips on yours. you’re barely out of your heels when there’s a knock on your door. you believe it’s pipe coming to bother you once more but instead it’s enzo with a bag of takeout and that devilish smirk of his.

[osleeplessflowero]

it's currently my birthday so here's some headcanons as to how i think skeletons would act/what they would do on YOUR birthday! (featuring a TON of au characters! :D)

Sans

Might be the one to push your face into your cake. It's a gamble with him. If it's not that, he'll definitely prank you somehow during the day (something lighthearted and fun, of course.) He wants to make sure you have a blast. I could see him getting you something funny, like a shirt with a funny phrase on it you could wear over and over.

Papyrus

He'd be the type to set up the party games, especially something like a Pinata to hit! He might hit it a liiiiittle too hard..but it's okay. Just means you get candy faster! He'd want to make your day something super fun to remember. He's dead set on changing things up each year to make each day memorable.

Red

WILL push your face into your cake, no questions asked. Provided you blew out your candles first (if you have any). He'd definitely want to take you somewhere fun for your birthday, messing with you from time to time to get a laugh. Definitely would want to get you something you could use a lot, or something you've mentioned wanting before. He keeps tabs on these things!

Edge

If he likes you a lot, he'll get you something really nice and insist you keep it taken care of, letting you know he cares in his own ways. Although he might not be as energetic as his brother might be on your special day, he still stays close by and ensures you're having plenty of fun. He's also one of the more rational members of the skeleton group, keeping the others in line so nothing goes wrong.

Blue

INSISTS on being the person to wake you up. He wants to be the first person to tell you but deep down he knows someone else beat him to it during the night, but that won't stop him from enthusiastically singing the Happy Birthday song anyway! He's probably the one to prepare you for an exciting day of fun, planned out with your best interests in mind. (His brother helped out of course by slapping some fun stickers on the schedule.) He might be one of the first people to give you his presents, letting you open it earlier in the day with him present.

Stretch & Rus

These two pretty much share a braincell, so naturally they'd race to be the first to send birthday wishes right at midnight. Funnily enough there's never an exact victor, they always send their messages at the exact same time. During the daylight hours, they stick together to cause plenty of chaos to get smiles and laughter out of you. They might pull a few pranks to tease you, but nothing too far of course. Rus would make some really cool art as a gift for you, anything you could possibly want him to draw or paint. As for Stretch, he'd work with Blue to get something you'd be able to have plenty of fun with (and of course, to use together).

Black

Oh does this man SPOIL you. He'll take you anywhere you want to go, no matter the cost, ensuring you he'll handle everything for your special day. You name anything, he'll get it for you right away. Also one of the men in charge of keeping the others in line so nothing goes too crazy. At least, until alcohol's brought out..then he leaves it up to Edge. ;)

Mars & Jupiter

The Horror bros are a bit less energetic when it comes to your birthday, opting to do something more personal for you. They'd give you their gifts alone so only they get to see your reactions. Jupiter would probably be the one to bake your cake in the first place, shooing everyone else out of the kitchen so he can perfect it. (Soo much spoon smacking..) They'd definitely steal you away a few times during the day to have some relaxing time together. Mars doesn't really like crowds..but he'd be willing to stay in a room with everyone for you.

[Berry is on his best behavior..just for today.]

Stepping out of the Neighborhood AU and into the Multiverse...

Dream, Ink, and Blue(again)!

Dream is SUPER excited for your birthday! He made sure to figure out all your favorite things so there's plenty of joy and positivity. Ink made sure to set up a really nice area for the three of you to celebrate, and maaaaybe set up some sort of water/paint balloon fights for some fun. Blue is in charge of activities and making sure Ink's chaos doesn't get too out of hand!

The Bad Sanses

Killer makes sure to be the first one to wake you up, singing the happy birthday song enthusiastically to embarrass you. Dust and Horror will be a bit more calm than he is, messing up your hair and giving you little affectionate/friendly gestures. Nightmare sets up a grand party for you, decorating the castle to the very best of his ability. He'll do his best to make things absolutely perfect for one of his favorite group members (don't tell the others, especially not Killer!). They all made sure to pitch in and get you some things that you'd thoroughly enjoy (just don't ask WHERE they got them from, okay?)

Error

He might have kidnapped you. But you're usually cool with it so it's okay. He's not particularly crazy about the idea of a big extravagant birthday party, so he sets up a day where you can spend time together watching your favorite shows in the Anti Void. As for his gift? Well, I could see him making some little puppets for you to have, maybe one of himself so when you hug it you'll think about him. (And since he's still adapting to physical touch himself.)

Cross

Cross wants to spend as much time with you as he can on your birthday. He's not one for big, extravagant things, but he would do something personal and sweet for you to make you happy, just content to spend time making you feel special. He might take you stargazing or something similar, a fun thing for both of you to do.

Bonus!

Fresh! (i will write about him at least once i swear. platonic fresh enjoyers this is for you)

You already KNOW Fresh is on top of things when it comes to his best bud's birthday! He'd definitely bring you somewhere where you both would have plenty of room to mess around and cause some chaos. No where is safe! I could see him dragging you to something like a skate park or to go spray paint some stuff. Or maybe to go see a movie together you can both laugh at. If he can't hang out with you alone, he'll show up at the Star Sanses' party to surprise you there.

[lovings4turn]

୭ 🗝️ ✧ ˚. 🪩 teas’n, pleas’n . . . (e.m)

— eddie is a man who possesses a lot of musical talent. luckily for you, his fingers’ capabilities extend far beyond plucking the strings of his prized guitar

+ contains: language, smut, afab!reader + fem nicknames

+ divider from cafekitsune

god, you were a terrible person.

eddie had been wanting to show this to you all day. he’d practically dragged you back to his trailer the second he’d picked you up, all so he could lead you into his bedroom and grab his precious guitar from her place on his wall.

despite his excitement, he’d taken the time to place a pillow against his headboard so that you would be comfortable as you watched him. the caring nature of his action made your heart swell, and the broad grin he’d shot your way as you sprawled out across his mattress only intensified that feeling.

now, as he stood a few feet away from you, mastering a particularly tricky riff with little difficulty but a lot of vigour, you couldn’t even focus on appreciating the sheer talent it took.

it’d probably taken him days, weeks, possibly even months, of endlessly listening to his 'dangerous toys' cassette and playing along, aiming to nail every last note. it wasn't only a means to impress the other members of corroded coffin, no; eddie’s main intention in learning the song was to impress you. and yet, you weren’t even fully paying attention to him.

instead, your eyes were locked on to the way eddie had pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, an expression you’d seen many times before, but under a very different circumstance. instead of gripping the neck of his guitar, his hand would typically be around your throat as he fucked into you fast and deep, filth spilling from his lips as he approached his high. it definitely didn’t help that his head was thrown back, exposing the curve of his neck and therefore the faint smattering of purple marks that you had left a few days prior.

his ring-clad fingers travelled up and down the guitar’s neck with such ease and dexterity, moving so fast it should be considered criminal, and the action made the deep blue veins of his arms and hands pop out beneath his skin. better yet, eddie’s eyes were closed, allowing you to continue your lustful admirations without the looming fear of being caught.

whilst eddie was no doubt running through the memorised tabs in his mind, you were picturing something a lot less pure. the guitar was the least of your concern, and you squeezed your thighs together in an attempt to create some sort of friction.

it was only natural for your mind to go somewhere else.

countless times before you’d seen eddie’s hands repeat similar movements between your legs, calloused fingers moving in and out of your cunt in just the right way to make you see stars. he was good with his hands and the smug little shit knew it, and god you had to stop thinking like this before you got too turned on.

for once, it seemed fate was on your side, as you managed to return to your senses just as eddie played the final few chords. his eyelids fluttered open to reveal those brown, doe eyes thar you adored so much. the smile on his face was impossibly infectious, causing your stomach to flip with a cocktail of love and guilt at his look of pure joy.

“well? what’d you think, sweetheart? am i on my way to becoming the next van halen?”

you grasped for something to say, begging that your mouth would form some appropriate response to his question, spit out a compliment that proved you were definitely paying attention to the music, and not to the way his hands would feel in between your thighs.

“hello?” eddie waved a hand in front of your face, soft chuckles escaping his lips. “earth to y/n. did y’like it babe?”

you blinked slowly, mind finally catching up to what eddie was asking you. before you could formulate a proper sentence, your mouth produced the first thing your muddled brain could think of.

“it was hot as fuck.”

shit.

that was not at all like what you wanted to say at all. the farthest thing from it, in fact. how hard was it to tell him it was impressive? curse your brain for being so impossibly horny right now.

eddie’s playful grin was quickly replaced by a smirk, the corner of his lip pulled up as he moved towards you. with a surprising amount of grace, eddie slotted himself in between your legs, lips ghosting over your own painfully.

just as you moved to connect your lips, to convey everything you had wanted to say to him before your mind has betrayed you, eddie pulled back with a tsk.

“ah, ah, not so fast. you weren’t paying attention to me, were you?” though teasing, his voice was laced with an undertone of incredulity.

though your mouth opened, you closed it almost immediately, floundering as you attempted to remain calm. your lack of a response told eddie everything he needed to know.

“huh. so, how about you tell me what exactly you were thinking about in that pretty little head of yours?”

you shook your head in an act of defiance, but it was no use. rough fingertips made contact with your chin, forcing your eyes to meet deep brown ones.

"don't get all shy on me now, sweetheart."

eddie's words were mocking, the corner of his lips quirked up into an amused smirk. yet, he was only human.

finally, his bitten lips pressed against your own. whilst one hand cupped your jaw, the metal of his rings cold against your flushed cheeks, the other dropped down to your chest, bunching up the fabric of your shirt.

his fingers moved tantalisingly slow, trailing from your navel down to the skin of your thigh. with a teasing purr, he grazed his hand against your dripping pussy before turning his attention to the other thigh. any attempt to mask just how much he was loving this had clearly failed - you could read him like a book.

"so fucking wet f'me, shit. been wanting it this the whole time, huh?"

all you could do was whine, bucking your hips up in an attempt to meet his hand. eddie merely tutted and swatted at the flesh of your thigh, shaking his head as he looked up to meet your eye.

"ah, ah, babe. you gotta ask for what you want." his hands trailed up and down your skin with a featherlight touch, leaving goosebumps in the wake of his warm palms. "want to hear you say all of the dirty little things you want me to do to you. i'm gonna fucking wreck you, princess."

you were in for a long night.

[ginnsbaker]

Bulletproof (4/?)

Part Summary: There's a new recruit who seems to have taken a liking to you. If things were normal between you and Wanda, maybe she wouldn’t feel so…threatened.

Chapter word count: 2.6k+ | Tags: Light Angst, Mutual Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Enemies to Lovers to Enemies, Gay disasters

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Part Five | Series Masterlist

-

The newest recruit, Daisy Johnson, seems to have taken a liking to you.

At least, that's what Wanda Maximoff has observed since Daisy's inclusion earlier this week.

From the corner of her eye, Wanda constantly catches the newbie stealing glances at you during training, meals, and even debriefing sessions. It's not that she keeps tabs on you or anything, but she can't help but notice when you catch someone’s attention, especially when that someone seems to be nearly everywhere you are.

In every training session, Wanda notes Daisy choosing to partner up with you or standing close by during briefings. Even in the more relaxed moments within the compound, Daisy seems irresistibly drawn to you. Wanda doesn't miss how Daisy occasionally throws prolonged glances your way, or how she laughs a tad too enthusiastically at something you say.

And it doesn't help that you and she walk on eggshells around each other since your confession in your old cell.

Neither of you has made any attempts to talk to the other again. Not even a glance, as if pretending the other doesn't exist will make that fateful night disappear. But for Wanda, the more she tries to push it out of her mind, the more sharply it edges back in, refusing to be forgotten.

She can't help but wonder: Was it wrong of her to move like that in her sleep? And were you out of line for not waking her up right away? 

And more importantly: Were you so repulsed by it that you chose a prison cell over sharing her bed?

All these questions keep swimming in her mind, to the point where she has considered going to whoever handles this sort of stuff at the compound—kind of like an HR Department, but for Avengers. Perhaps a course on understanding boundaries might help you both move past this and start anew.

But then again, addressing it means dealing with it, and right now, just avoiding the whole mess seems so much easier.

As Wanda turns a corner in one of the compound's sprawling hallways, her eyes catch sight of you and Daisy. You’re both laughing, heads thrown back, not a care in the world. Wanda's eyes involuntarily narrow at the sight, taking note of the negligible distance between you two. Daisy's hand is resting lightly on your arm, fingers dancing along the fabric of your shirt as she emphasizes a point in her story.

Wanda tries to walk past nonchalantly, yet can't seem to dispel the feelings that bubble up each time she sees you with Daisy.

It's maddening. If things were normal between you and Wanda, maybe she wouldn’t feel so…threatened. 

But they aren't. 

And she does.

-

Wanda's patience is tested to its limits one Saturday afternoon. 

Tasked with joining Sam to whip up dinner for the team's weekly movie night, she's diligently chopping vegetables in the expansive kitchen when Daisy sidles up to her.

“Hey, uh, Wanda, right?” Daisy begins, a casual tone to her voice.

Wanda doesn’t even look up as she answers, “Yes?”

“Can I ask you something about Y/N?”

Wanda's grip on the knife tightens just a fraction, her posture stiffening. “I think it’s better if you ask Vision–he monitors all of us even more closely than the cameras we have everywhere.”

As the words leave Wanda's mouth, Vision, who’s been quietly tinkering with a device on the other side of the kitchen, looks up suddenly, his usually stoic face showing a hint of surprise.

“I assure you, I do no such thing,” he starts, his tone a touch defensive. “Monitoring everyone is not part of my programming or my personal interests.”

Daisy raises an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “Sure, Vis. Everyone needs a hobby, right?”

Vision clears his throat, looking somewhat flustered, “It is not a 'hobby' of mine.”

Wanda can't help but smirk slightly at Vision's discomfort, her attention briefly diverted from the awkwardness with Daisy. “It's just a joke, Vision. Relax.”

He gives a curt nod, turning his attention back to the device in his hand, though he remains noticeably quiet.

Daisy chuckles lightly, but her curiosity remains unsated. “Anyway, back to Y/N?” She prompts, looking expectantly at Wanda. “Steve mentioned that if anyone on the team knows Y/N best, it'd be you, considering you two shared a room.”

Fucking Steve.

Wanda takes a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. She finally glances up to meet Daisy's eyes, her expression guarded. “What do you want to know?”

“Is Y/N... you know, single? And what do you think of them?”

Wanda's eyebrows shoot up, her eyes sharpening immediately. She places the knife down on the countertop with more force than necessary. “Why do you ask?”

Sam whistles softly, making it obvious he's eavesdropping. “Damn, getting intense over here,” he comments with a grin, making no effort to hide his amusement.

Daisy shoots him an exasperated look, but there's a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Trying to have a conversation here, Wilson.”

Ignoring Sam's teasing, Wanda presses, “I just want to know why you're asking.”

Daisy sighs, rubbing the back of her neck. “We've been talking a lot, and I was just... curious.”

Sam, not missing a beat, chimes in, “Curious or interested?"

Daisy rolls her eyes. "Nosy much?"

Wanda reaches for the shredder and starts grating all the remaining vegetables rather aggressively.

Sam laughs before lifting the spatula to his lips to sample the soup he’s making. “Just trying to get the lay of the land.”

“Why don't you focus on your soup, Sam?” Wanda retorts, though her eyes never leave her task.

Sam smirks, catching the hint of jealousy in Wanda's tone, and decides to push just a little further. “You know, Wanda, if you have something to say about Y/N, now's the time.”

Wanda's eyes flash red for a brief moment. Sam holds his hands up in mock surrender, but the smirk doesn’t leave his face.

Daisy looks between them in confusion. 

Taking a moment, Wanda sets the shredder aside and faces Daisy squarely. “Y/N almost risked their life to save mine. If you're looking for a testament to their character, well, actions like that are rare to come by.”

“And as for Y/N’s relationship status,” she continues, a bit reluctantly, “I believe they're single.”

Daisy's gaze becomes gentle, a dreamy quality entering her eyes. “That's... truly heroic,” she whispers, almost to herself. Wanda feels a sudden urge to throw up.

She then flashes a grateful smile at Wanda. “Thanks, Wanda. That means a lot coming from you.”

Wanda merely nods before clearing her throat. “Well, now that that's settled, could someone pass the salt?”

It’s Sam who hands it over, but not before saying, “Try not to add too much. We wouldn't want dinner to be as salty as some people's moods.”

-

Tony is, unsurprisingly, first in line, eagerly eyeing the roasted vegetables. “If the taste is half as good as the smell, we’re in for a treat tonight.”

Steve chuckles, replying, “I think we can trust Wanda and Sam's culinary skills by now.”

Natasha and Clint are engrossed in a deep conversation about an upcoming mission, while Bruce discusses some new upgrades with Tony. Vision, for his part, is explaining to Peter the intricacies of using Wanda's food processor.

As the chatter continues, Wanda moves to retrieve the centerpiece of the dinner: a golden-brown roasted chicken. She feels everyone's eyes on her, awaiting the moment the chicken will land on the table. However, her gaze is involuntarily drawn to the table where she sees you and Daisy sitting next to each other, laughing about something. 

In that split second of distraction, her fingers graze the scalding metal rack of the oven. A sharp hiss escapes her lips, the sudden pain evident on her face. Dropping the oven mitts, she mutters a quick “Excuse me” and dashes off to the nearest bathroom, intending to run the burnt area under cold water.

You notice her quick exit and, after a brief moment of hesitation, quietly follow her. As you near the bathroom, the sound of running water reaches your ears.

Without knocking, you enter. Wanda is cradling her hand, trying to soothe the burn. 

Your voice is soft with concern when you speak, “Wanda? Let me help.”

Wanda quickly pulls her hand away from the water, her eyes widening as she registers your arrival. “I’m fine,” she snaps, her posture tensing further. Water drips from her fingers onto the porcelain sink.

You take a hesitant step forward, your intent clear. “I can heal it. Just let me—”

“I said I'm fine,” she interrupts, her voice sharp. “Sometimes it's good to feel pain, you know, heal the natural way. Not everything needs a... quick fix.” She glances pointedly at you, an obvious jab at your abilities.

Your eyes narrow slightly at her comment, but you keep your emotions in check. “It's not about the quick fix, Wanda. It's about helping someone in pain, even if that someone is stubbornly pushing everyone away.”

She sighs, her defenses visibly waning. “Why are you even here? Shouldn't you be out there with Daisy?”

“What’s Daisy got to do with any of this?”

Wanda bites the inside of her cheek, averting her gaze. Even if she has an answer ready, she's not sure she'd want to voice it.

With a sharp exhale, your frustration bubbles over. 

“Fine,” you say tersely, pointing at her burned hand. “Let it scar then. See if I care.” 

Moving swiftly, you leave the bathroom without waiting for her response.

Wanda stays there for a few minutes, taking deep breaths and trying to steady herself. When she finally decides to rejoin the team for dinner, she notices the empty spot beside Daisy. You're gone, probably to your room.

Regret coils in her stomach. She didn’t mean for things to escalate like that, especially when all you were trying to do was help. 

-

She hasn't felt this anxious in a long time.

It reminds her of the days after she lost everything that truly mattered.

Checking that everyone is probably asleep, Wanda takes a deep breath and heads towards your room. Her mind races, trying to figure out what to say, how to apologize. 

She stops in front of your room and then gently raps on the door, listening intently for any sign of movement inside. “Y/N?” she calls out hesitantly. She doesn't expect the door to open immediately, and when it does, it's not you who answers. 

Instead, Daisy stands there, looking a little startled too.

“You…” Wanda hisses slowly before she can catch herself.

Daisy quickly registers Wanda's reaction and raises her hands in a placating manner. “Oh, right. Sorry, this must be weird. My apartment had a plumbing issue, a flood actually. Since I'm joining the team permanently, I made a request for a new room. But until that's sorted, Y/N offered me theirs.”

Wanda's insides churn with a jealousy she can't quite place, but she masks it swiftly, painting on a polite smile. “And where's Y/N now?” she asks, her voice deceptively calm.

Daisy bites her lip, appearing somewhat embarrassed. “They're asleep,” she admits. Stepping aside, she reveals you, nestled in a makeshift bed on the floor, blankets arranged around you for some semblance of comfort.

Wanda's eyes soften at the sight of you, but her heart also tightens in anger. You've given up your bed, your comfort, for Daisy. You’re doing for someone else what she’s done for you. It feels like an invasion of something she thought she exclusively shared with you.

Daisy shifts, catching Wanda's stare. “They wouldn’t listen to me,” she explains, a bit embarrassed. “Kept saying it's fine and that I should take the bed.”

Wanda just nods, a tightness in her voice. “Sounds like them, alright.”

Trying to ease the tension, Daisy adds, “Y/N always talks about you, you know. In a good way. Maybe you two should just... chat.”

Wanda raises an eyebrow, a little surprised. “They do?”

Daisy chuckles. "Yeah. Anyway, I'll leave you to it. Night."

“Night,” Wanda murmurs, still looking at you.

Once Daisy’s gone, Wanda hesitates. Part of her wants to barge in, shake you awake, and have that long overdue talk. Instead, she absentmindedly touches the burn on her hand, its sting a reminder of how you tried to help her earlier. It's jarring to think that you, even after avoiding each other for days, were ready to heal her.

And damn, it hurts. Not the burn, but the realization of how much she misses you. 

-

Wanda doesn’t get any chances to talk to you for the next several days because you–along with Natasha, Daisy and Vision are called away to a mission. 

Each day you’re away, Wanda feels the weight of anxiety pressing down on her chest. She can’t help but worry, replaying every worst-case scenario in her mind. She catches herself multiple times pacing by the control room, asking for updates, or staring out at the landing pad, waiting for the quinjet to return.

When word finally arrives that the quinjet is en route back to the compound, Wanda finds herself in the hangar before she’s even consciously made the decision to be there. Steve stands next to her, his face betraying his own relief. A few other team members have gathered too, all awaiting the return of their comrades.

The roar of the quinjet’s engines fills the air as it makes its descent. As the ramp lowers, Wanda's eyes scan the disembarking figures, and they lock onto yours. You look a little worn, a fresh bruise marring your cheek—oddly enough, one you've chosen not to heal. But beyond that, you seem okay.

Her heart swells with relief.

You seem to pause for a second, looking genuinely shocked to see Wanda amongst those waiting. For a moment, your eyes lock. She offers a tentative smile, full of hope, and it seems you're about to approach her. But then, as you step further out of the quinjet, Daisy appears at your side. The way she comfortably intertwines her fingers with yours sends a sharp pang through Wanda's heart and her smile falters.

Steve claps his hands together, attempting to reign in the team's focus. “Alright, debrief. How did it go?”

Natasha, with a deadpan expression, shoots back, “Could’ve gone smoother if you’d packed me a flask, Rogers.”

Steve smirks, shaking his head. “Alright, Romanoff. Just don’t make us wait too long.”

As you approach Wanda, your expression gives away nothing. “Hey,” you murmur, voice neutral. But Wanda’s eyes have darted down to where your hand is connected with Daisy's. Her eyes harden, and when she meets your gaze, they’ve become unreceptive.

Misreading the tightening of Wanda's features as coldness, your frown deepens. You'd thought some time apart might've helped ease the strain between you two, but guess not.

Just as you're about to say something to her–maybe an explanation as to why you’re holding Daisy’s hand–Daisy gives a playful tug on your hand, breaking the moment. “Come on,” she chirps. “Let's head in. I heard there's pizza, and I intend to eat more slices than you.”

You allow Daisy to pull you along, throwing one last glance at Wanda over your shoulder, wishing she'd say something–anything. 

But Wanda's back is already turned to you. Her posture rigid, fists clenched at her sides, the knuckles going white. In that moment, Wanda is making a silent vow to herself, one of emotional self-preservation.

She walks away, her heels clicking against the ground with each firm and decisive step. Deep down, the walls she'd slowly been dismantling brick by brick in the face of a potential future with you were being hastily reconstructed. 

She’s survived worse things.

Of course, she’ll survive you.

[transgendz]

My roommate and I are about to move. We need to get a lot taken care of before that, and we are going to need to pay one more week of rent here at least. My roommate has an appointment on Monday, which including transportation, which will be $300. The rest of this goal is for food, rent, and getting some of our legal documents ($79) some of which we already had and been lost. And some of which are to protect our rights as disabled people. This is urgent, we have been having to get his abusive mom to help with a lot lately.

Dm me for proof or details

I will do art for anyone who gives $50+ just message me at my art blog @theartistrans

$creepiecrippl

V: tab-99

$0/$934

[foreverdolly]

𝐈 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄 pt 2 | 80's mechanic!austin x best friend!reader

summary: it's starting to look like he might never make it out of the friend zone. austin has been in love with you for as long as he can remember, and he's terrified that you'll never see him as anything more than a best friend and protector. with the fear of you one day outgrowing him fresh on his mind, he's now hell bent on getting you to view him in a different light. madly in love and terrified to lose you, austin butler is playing for keeps.

pairings: 80s mechanic! austin x childhood best friend!reader

word count: 3.8k

notes/warnings: SMUT! in part three, virgin!austin. . . need i say more?, i love pining and this fic is testament to that, shaky/hurried hands, who doesn't love a good best friends to lovers fic, he has a deep southern accent, austin is the small town's metalhead and he's swelteringly hot without even trying. (this is going to have to be three parts because it turned out too long after editing. the smut alone is like. . . five pages on google docs.)

Austin could tell that you were fighting off the urge to plug your ears as the band continued to pound away at their instruments. It wasn’t that you weren’t a fan of metal music- he was pleased to know that you enjoyed a lot of the bands that he loved- but while this might be metal, Austin wasn’t sure it could really be categorized as music. The drummer, Mark, was okay at best. He couldn’t say the same for the other member’s. Dave had picked up a guitar and decided that he wanted to start a band just a year ago. It was more of a “this sounds like a fun thing to do with my time” and less of a “this is my passion in life” sort of thing. 

The wavy haired blonde tried to show support where he could, like tonight for example. He had dragged you all the way out here just to add to the small crowd. You were sweet enough not to complain though. 

“Do ya want another drink?” Austin called down to you, pointing to the empty can of beer in your hand. 

You squint your eyes up at him, trying to read his lips. He repeated himself, smiling fondly when you nodded your head. You were kind enough to let him drag you an hour out of town to see this show, so the least he could do was make sure you were taken care of. Not only that, but it was something that he enjoyed immensely. Austin knew just how strong you were, but it felt nice to know that he was needed. Taking care of you made him feel like a necessary part of your life. It made it easier for him to delude himself into thinking that you couldn’t be without him. 

“I’m not drunk enough for this.” You called back to him, motioning towards the stage. 

He heard your sly little comment and laughed all the way back up to the bar, maneuvering his tall body this way and that so that he wouldn’t bump into anyone in the packed crowd. Austin was surprised that so many people showed up to the bar tonight, the turnout usually being much smaller. 

He finally made it over to the bar, the toes of his sneakers swiping one of the bar stools. He grimaced, mumbling a quick apology to the man who had been jostled around by Austin’s uncharacteristic clumsiness. He was just about to try and grab the bartender’s attention when he felt a sudden pressure on his elbow.

 Samuel’s familiar face grinned back at him, his mousy brown hair cropped short. Austin gaped when he noticed the new hairstyle, eyebrows pinching together in confusion. He didn’t have to vocalize the question, Sam already pointing at his head with a comically dramatic frown.

“Work,” The other man stated simply, shrugging his shoulders with a “what can you do” attitude. “I’ll get another beer.” He reached around Austin so that he could hand the empty beer bottle to the bartender and then pointed towards the blonde. “And then put whatever he orders for him and his lady on my tab too.” 

The blonde whirled, quickly shaking his head. He wasn’t the type of person to take handouts. Ever. Even if they are as a gesture of kindness. Austin hated the feeling of owing people anything. He’d learned from a young age that most people, even the ones that seemed to have the purest intentions, expected favors in return for nice gestures. Maybe it was due to growing up on “the wrong side of the tracks”, but good deeds always meant that someone wanted something from you. 

“Nah, man. Ya don’t have to do that.” He tried, but the beers were already being placed down in front of him. 

Sam smiled at the bartender, giving her a flirtatious wink before clapping his old friend on the back. “You’re the one that got me my current gig. Two beers is nowhere near enough to pay you back for that.” 

The regional manager of the local electric company had all of their work trucks maintained at the shop where Austin worked. All the mechanic did was tell the head honcho that he knew a guy that was going to school to become an electrician. Thanks to Austin’s meddling, Sam had a job the second he got his certificates. Even though Austin was the one that set up the interview, it was the brunette’s skill and personable attitude that landed him the job in the first place. He didn’t want to take credit for the other boy’s undeniable skill. Instead of pushing the subject and denying the other man’s kindness, Austin- although slightly begrudgingly- took the beers with a small smile, nudging his elbow into Sam’s side. 

“Well thank ya for that. It’s weird seein’ your hair short though. Ya look good.” Austin took a sip of his beer, then stared down at yours, raising that can to his lips so that he could give it a taste. 

“You’re lucky that you get to keep your long hair. I mean- it gets more and more majestic by the day, Butler.” Sam teased, reaching a hand over to rustle his wavy blonde hair. It was past his shoulders now, and though you often teased him about getting a haircut, he knew that you’d be upset if he chopped it all off. He’d had long hair since high school, only trimming it when it became too much of a bother to maintain. 

Austin could see the way Sam’s eyes slowly searched the crowd, his smile slow and wide once he found exactly who he was looking for: you. The blonde knew that the questions were sure to come, and so he was quick to change the subject. 

“I’m glad ya came all the way out here to support Dave. I didn’t know ya were still close with him.” The dark dive bar’s doors opened, more metalheads pouring in through the front door. Austin steered them away from the bar, making more room for others who were waiting behind them for a drink.

“I love Davie- but Mark is my new roommate.” Mark was the aforementioned drummer. . . and the wildest of the band. Just two months ago at a bonfire the twenty four year old had set his hair on fire- hence the fact that he was newly bald.

You had been there with the group when it had happened, and thankfully were sober enough to pour your drink over his head to extinguish the flames. Only after you knew that he was safe did you double over with laughter. Austin hadn’t been so kind. He had nearly pissed himself the second that the idiot tried to jump over the giant flames. 

“That must be. . . fun.” Austin chose his words carefully, but Sam was quick to laugh. 

“It’s never dull, that’s for sure.” He agreed, lifting his beer up to take a swig.

The song that the band was playing ended, Dave walking up to the mic so that he could loudly thank the crowd and call out the shitty title of their next terrible song. The amp's feedback was piercing, causing the entire bar to wince and cry out in pain. 

Austin started to walk off in your direction, hoping that he’d been successful in steering clear of any questioning- but a grip on his shoulder stopped him. Every single one of his friends had given him “the talk” at one time or another. It was always awkward and hard to stomach. Nobody in their right mind would pine after a girl for even a fraction of the time that Austin had with you. None of his friends could ever begin to understand exactly what he could lose in the process of vocalizing his feelings though.

“So is this a date. . . or?” Sam asked under his breath, motioning as subtly over towards you as he could. 

You had looked over in Austin’s direction a few times, wondering where he was and what might be taking him so long. You’d stopped searching for him after seeing who he was talking to though, not wanting to interrupt. Sam was the only one in Austin’s male friend group that actually had a “real” job, and you knew that the two of them had more in common than the rest of the boys because of it. You turned back to the stage, giving Dave a quick thumbs up as a form of encouragement to pump him up after the amp malfunction. The blonde clenched his teeth for a couple of seconds, knowing that he shouldn’t lie (but wishing that he could), before turning to face Sam again. 

“No- not a date. She’s friends with the group. . . and Davie wanted her to be here tonight.” 

Sam’s face hardened as he looked up at the stage, glaring after the guitarist. Austin was quick to shake his head, backpedaling. 

“It’s not like that. Just as friends. He knows that I-” Am in love with her. 

Of course he didn’t need to finish the sentence. Anyone with eyes knew how he felt about you. Thankfully, none of his friends had ever even tried their hand at flirting with you, because they understood Austin’s feelings. It wasn’t a childhood yearning or an adult ache that plagued him. It was more complex than that. It was the sort of love that often destroyed adult’s lives. The kind of love that didn’t go away, no matter how much you wished that they would. He’d been in love with you before he could even add two plus two or write his full name in cursive. That love was just as much a part of him as his own soul was. 

Which was why it always bothered Austin when people looked at him with eyes filled with pity. Just like Sam was doing now. 

“Do you think. . . do you think she knows? Maybe she doesn’t want to turn you down because she doesn’t want to lose you.” Sam was trying to help. Austin knew that. He was just sick and tired of people constantly putting their two cents in. 

These sort of comments just added to the self doubt that crippled him. The years of anxiety over his unrequited feelings kept him awake at night, and he didn’t need tonight to be ruined. Despite the shitty music, the two of you had been having fun. Wake up calls like the one Sam was currently tried to give him often put him in a rotten mood, and you’d pick up on that immediately.

“She doesn’t know. Ya know how she is- she’s sweet, trustin’, and a lil’ bit naive. We’ve always been this close, so in her mind this is all we are.” And all that we’re going to be most likely. He took a swig of his beer, wishing that he could get drunk off of his ass. He hadn’t made any sleeping arrangements with his friends though, and the last thing he wanted was for you to be sleeping on some random guys floor because he got too drunk to drive home. 

Austin cleared his throat, gave Sam one last pat on the shoulder, and started to make his way through the thrashing crowd. Behind Austin, Sam opened his mouth to say something. The shift in mood was obvious, and he needed to apologize for bringing it up, but it was too late now. Austin was gone and in a solemn mood. 

The melancholy that threatened to eat away at him for the rest of his night was swiftly replaced with rage. 

There was a man standing beside you that he hadn’t ever seen before. He wasn’t a friend. . . or even a friend of a friend, for that matter. Austin watched as the male moved his hands excitedly as he spoke, dark brown bangs hanging into his eyes, his hair almost as long as Austin’s. 

Your childhood friend stood back and watched the interaction for as long as he could stomach, wondering what the two of you were talking about to have the male in such high spirits. Were you making him feel like he stood a chance with you? Had he been too late walking back to the bar, the two of you having already exchanged contact information? He was attractive enough- though as he smiled Austin noticed that his bottom row of teeth was rather crooked. Knowing you, you’d probably find the imperfection “cute”, which further enraged the blonde. 

Austin hated getting angry over things like this. Watching you talk to other boys had been something he hadn’t had to deal with in almost two years, which he had considered to be a godsend. It was just as painful every time. It was unfair of him to feel this way, and he knew that. He should have hung back and let you talk to the guy. If he was a real friend he would have done just that. 

Except Austin had staked his claim on you far before you’d been able to fully comprehend what dating really was.

 No matter how nice of a guy Austin was, he was territorial and easily made jealous. He had his faults. He was selfish with you, and he’d willingly admit that to whoever questioned him. So he swiftly walked up beside you, sliding your beer into your hand with a smile that was too sweet. 

“Sorry that took so long. Sam wanted to show me his new haircut.” That wasn’t a complete lie. Just a little ‘half truth’. 

You smiled widely up at him, then gestured to your “new friend”. The boy straightened his back, having noticed how large Austin was in comparison to his own gangly frame. He towered above almost everybody else in the room, his shoulders broad and muscular. The blonde smiled at the boy, making sure to show off his perfect, white smile. He was being petty. He was being rude and horrible and. . . and he didn’t care. Not really, anyway. Austin could feel bad about his behavior later, but for now he had to make sure nothing happened between the two of you. 

“Austin, this is Robin. He works at the local record store.” You introduced, motioning between the two men. 

Bless your sweet little soul. You probably thought that the two of them, having similar taste in style and music, would be fast friends. Maybe Austin would have liked the guy if he wasn’t trying to steal his girl. Maybe being the keyword. 

The stage lights flashed dully beside your little group, the thick clouds of cigarette smoke drowning out most of the light. You let out a pleased hum as Austin took Robin’s hand into his own, watching him shake it firmly. 

“Nice to meet ya, man.” Though it wasn’t very nice at all. “Robin. . . that’s an interestin’ name for a guy.” That was a childish jab, but Austin wasn’t above laying the guy out right here and now. That is, if you weren’t standing between them. 

You tensed beside your best friend, giving his arm a quick swat, as if reminding the giant to play nice. 

Austin barely felt it, your tiny hands doing nothing to deter him. Instead he placed a large hand on the top of your head, dragging you into his side and tucking you in tightly. Robin was about to say something- a rude remark to fire back at Austin’s insult- but froze as he took in the sight before him. Understanding flickered into his eyes, his mouth parting slightly. 

“Oh,” He whispered softly, then held his hands up in defense. “Oh, I had no idea. Really. No harm done at all. We were just talking about music. Strictly casual.” 

You were standing as still as a statue, muscles taught as you tried your hardest to feel out the situation. Was Austin pretending to be your boyfriend because he thought Robin looked suspicious? You chewed on the inside of your cheek, fighting off the urge to shrug his arm off of you. You’d hate yourself later for embarrassing him in public, and you were positive that your best friend’s intentions were good. Still, it annoyed you that he still treated you like a child. Sure, you could be a bit too optimistic at times, but you were fully capable of protecting yourself. 

The hatred in Austin’s chest fizzled out, and suddenly he felt like the biggest douche on the planet. You might be blinded by your sense of innocence, but you were often a good judge of character. Robin was a nice enough guy, and he had just been an asshole for no reason. Austin’s shoulders slumped and he quickly shook his head. 

“No- you’re fine. I’m just protective over her, especially in places like this. Ya can never be too careful… There’s a lot’a creeps out there.” Austin offered as an excuse, moving a tad closer to him so that he could shake his hand- anything to alleviate some of the awkward tension. Robin started to shuffle back, obviously scared of a potential fight, but Austin shook his head. 

He’d traumatized the poor guy. 

“So ya work at a record store? Do ya have a good thrash collection?” Something. Austin needed to think of something that might change the direction of this conversation. He could feel how antsy you were getting at his side. He didn’t have to look down to know that you were disappointed in him for his reaction. Knowing that he had upset you absolutely gutted him. He’d let his jealousy get the best of him, and because of that he’d acted like. . . well, like a complete dick to someone that didn’t deserve it. 

Robin’s grim expression softened, brown eyes pinching at the corners as he smiled- albeit a bit nervously. 

“Yeah, at the record store down the street,” Robin yelled over the music, pointing off in the direction. 

You and Austin had dropped by the place a few times, but it was usually for record signings. It was the largest store in the entire area, so any time there were any “obscure” new releases the male would have to drive an hour out just to pick it up. It was a pain in the ass, but the store owner was pretty nice and knew a handful of influential people in the music industry. 

Back when you and Austin were in highschool you had all but begged on your hands and knees to skip school so that you could get one of your “The Police” cassette signed. Much to his absolute horror you had insisted on blasting it the entire way home. Of course he put up with it. Why? Because you looked cute screaming the lyrics. 

“Ya must have just gotten the job. I was up there about two months ago and didn’t see ya.” Austin offered Robin another smile, and that was all it took for the guy to warm up to the blonde. 

Just as you thought, Robin and Austin hit it off. The two ended up talking for the rest of the night, even earning a few glares from other people in the crowd whenever their laughter got too boisterous to be considered polite. After closing out your tabs Robin parted ways with the two of you, quickly slipping his home phone number into Austin’s palm, which had been scribbled on the back of his receipt. 

You had wanted to congratulate the boys for putting on a good show, but everyone had jumped off the stage and headed straight to the overcrowded bar for drinks after their set. Everyone aside from Davie, who was busying himself with a group of cute girls that had been eying him all night. 

“Come on. It’s gettin’ late. . . let’s get ya home.” 

Austin was acting weirder than usual tonight. Sure, this particular bar wasn’t the safest place to frequent, but his earlier treatment of Robin was an overreaction. Your best friend had a bad habit of babying you far too often. He made excuses for it- telling you that the world was a rotten place and that he didn’t mind looking out for you. It had been something that you appreciated through high school, but now that you were an adult it made you feel. . . a bit too spoiled. It also blurred certain boundaries, which further confused your already suffering heart. If only Austin knew how you felt towards him, then maybe he’d start acting a bit differently with you. 

Yet here he was, opening up the door to his van for you with a broad smile that made your heart do somersaults. You wanted to blame the heat that was pooling in the pit of your stomach on the five beers you’d drank that night. You wanted so badly to blame all of this on your recent drought in romance. . . but it’s Austin. 

No one has ever treated you as gently as he has.

Men, your father included, had always acted like your wants and needs were an inconvenience. You were too “high maintenance” because you enjoyed spending quality time with your partners. Relationships have always been short lived for you. Austin had set an impossible standard for how you wanted to be treated. Even now he was chatting your head off, one hand on the wheel and the other hand mindlessly checking to see if your seatbelt was buckled, his fingers brushing against your hip as he gave it a testing tug. 

Being around him right now was dangerous. You weren’t drunk enough to make a fool of yourself, but tipsy to the point of possibly ruining everything. Because he looked beautiful in the dim lighting of the car's display. His jawline was even more defined due to the shadows, and his blonde hair looked even lighter in comparison than usual. It was longer than you’d ever seen it, falling in slight waves because of the spring humidity. 

And you really wanted to kiss him. 

please shoot me a message if you want to be added to my taglist, that way you won't miss when I post!

taglist: @knoxvillesshoes @cosmorant @ol1viam @simply-sams-things @haim80s @gabbcabb@8hgel@slutt4him@kaitaesupremacy@dazedshoon @4rt3m1ss@cryingabtab@kittenlittle24@austinsrealgf@austinbutlersgirlfriend@clearbolts @ab4eva@starcatchxr @julietamidala@obbsessivereader@gwuide@blurredcolour@the-little-red-haired-girl@meladollsims@poppet05@shrekstheloml@randomwriter888@idc123sworld@girlblogger2002@rockerchick05@screechingstrawberrysong@simpforevery1@girlabirla@dre6ming@obetrolncocktails@fairyjanes@jensenswinchester@lo-bells @in-my-body-bag@eliseinmemphis @fantuhsise@bcofl0ve@shynovelist@ssstrangersblog @harrysthecraic@hangmanswhore@jyvnho@mymamalife @melodydior @18lkpeters @memphis-mania @rjmartin11 @artlover8992 @powerofelvis @ggwritesstuff @eliseinmemphis @polksalademma @flwrs4aust @cryingabtab @austinbutlersbaby @lindszeppelin @rosaminny @ho3forfakeguys

[coleskingdom]

Care

Jay White x F Reader

For @madhatterbri I hope you love this.

@midwestmade29

“Make him care” that had to be the stupidest thing the bastard has ever told me. I’ve had nothing but time to figure out how best to make him care. I have Colten and Austin on Penta and Fenix. That’s business , they’re his friends but in this business friends come and they go. He’d expect me to pull something out of that playbook, the boys have orders just to watch them for now.

I sit drinking my scotch in the hotel bar contemplating I catch a reflection in the bar mirror, I can tell she’s hesitating because I’m sitting here. She’s pretty, in that classic real sense.I’ve seen her look at me, the way she bites her lip as we pass each other in the hallways. Though if I paid attention to that I’d have taken half of the roster to bed, or at least had them on their knees in front of me. I catch her eyes in the mirror I smirk as the prettiest blush tints her cheeks. I wonder how much the bastard cares for her, or she cares for him. She lifts her chin not to back down realizing she’s now been caught. If a game she wants a game we can play.

“Y/N” I say it as if it’s my favorite word in the English language as I nod to the seat beside me. She hesitates momentarily realizing I’m the best and safest option to sit next to. “Jay” she says as she does that three point look, I almost chuckle at how easy this is going to be . I offer my hand as she struggles to get up on the awkward barstool, I let my fingers trace the inside of her wrist as lightly and intentionally as possible. “What are you drinking? Y/N” calling the bartender over. “I , um a hard lemonade.” I try to keep my face masked to keep from laughing “She will have a lemon drop martini, on the sweet side. I’ll take another scotch neat.” I wait till she takes a sip to see the satisfaction on her face. “That’s really good” the surprise in her voice , I wonder what other experiences I could upgrade in her life. “To drink well, is to live well or something like that.” I smirk.

“ Where’s the bastard of yours?” figuring out what my next move might be . “ He , uh he headed home. He was pretty upset about tonight. He just texted me he was out , he knows I have a flight out tomorrow we were meeting here because our schedules are so busy” her voice hurt and irritated. “That’s really a dick move” I softened my voice, turning to face her. “A real bastard move is more like it” she said a hint of venom in it. Sad I won’t work with, spite is my specialty. We sat and talked had couple more drinks. I paid the tab as she went to the bathroom. I left my room key on the bar with specific directions to the bartender that if she didn’t take it then to destroy it and let her know the tab was taken care of.

I had just about given up when I heard the soft knock on my door. I answered the door in the towel, leaning in the open doorway. Y/N stood there looking at me, I watched her as her breath hitched as her eyes followed the trail just below my belly button. “Y/N when was the last time you got exactly what you wanted?” not pushing her one way or the other, it’s more devastating when it’s her decision. A man can rationalize a lot of things but when she decides it’s a hell of blow one that outside of my personal vendetta sounded like he needed desperately. That blush was back as if it was the first time she’d ever been asked. For all I knew it might have been. “Too long Jay, too fucking long.” her voice shakes with vulnerability of that truth. “What did you come here for?” moving and opening the door wider and she stepped through it. She holds up my room key “ To return this.” I eye her and I can see the shiver of desire run through her. I step closer to her “ Y/N , you could’ve turned that into the front desk.” Brushing her hair out of her face. She steps forward and kisses me, it’s been a long time since I’ve been kissed with more passion than skill. I bury one hand in her hair, tilting her head to the side for better access. Y/N moans into my mouth, and I slide my tongue inside to finally get a taste of her. It’s minty she went back to her room , then made the decision to come here.

“ I’m sorry “ she stammers turning her head away. I grip her chin between two fingers and get a primal sense of satisfaction when her nostrils flare and her pupils dilate. She wants me. I know it. She knows it. Now the question is— what are we going to do about it? I lean in kissing her again testing the waters. Her fingers grip my shoulders, pulling herself up to wrap a leg around my hip. My hand move to her lower back. Tearing my mouth away, I stare down at her kiss-swollen lips. “Y/N, unless you tell me no, I’m taking you. I’m going to make you scream my name, as I go down on you, till you beg me to fuck you. Then you’re going to come harder than you’ve ever come in your life. I’m going to feel all the ways your body bends to my will. How that blush floods your body, how you’re breathing changes as you learn to breathe with me. “

Y/N’s response is to tighten her hold on the back of my neck and hop up, circling both legs around me and pushing her skirt up her thighs.

My free hand finds the curve of her ass, cupping and kneading like I was made to touch her. I taste her jaw and her neck as the heat of her pulses against my stomach.

Y/ N moans and throws out a hand toward my left. I take one step in that direction, but the couch is closer and way more convenient. I lower us both, and her ass hits the cushion at the same moment my knees hit the floor. “He would never do this.” her words draw my eyes up “Because you don’t want him to or because he’s too much of a selfish prick to give you what you want.” my hands running over the top of her skirt. Her heated gaze, and the way she bites her lip is the answer I need.

Her non answer gives me a dark sense of satisfaction as I press her thighs apart.

"Slide that ass out, love, because it's time I taste how sweet you really are."

After a moment of hesitation, she follows my directions, scooting her butt to the edge of the couch. I expect to see the fabric of some sexy panties, but instead, all I see is bare, wet pussy. I also see her phone and the bastards face through the pocket, as I swipe to answer the call.

"Dirty girl, you’ve thought about this. You don’t come to King Switches room with a dripping wet pussy. I’m going to teach you how to breathe with me." wasting no time getting my mouth on her.

The second my lips make contact, Y/N arches her back off the couch, my name a throaty moan echoing in the room. The caller has not hung up as possessiveness overwhelms me as I tongue and lick and grind down on her clit until she's writhing beneath me. I stick one of my fingers gauging her reaction, teasing her g spot, with the come hither motion. “Y/N tell me that you need to come? “ I put my mouth back on her sucking and thrusting my finger in and out. “More Jay, please right there.” I insert a second finger and add a little pressure to her stomach. Her hands grab my hair as I groan into her and she shatters . Her words are in comprehensible pants. “ Jay, please fuck me.” her voice needy and desperate. The phone still lit and connected. That kinky bastard must be liking what he’s hearing or is still in denial.

This next part has to be perfect, especially if he insists that he remains on the phone. I stand and pick her up laying her down on the bed. I remove her skirt dropping it towards the top of the headboard. I kiss her to keep her distracted as her hands roam my body, teasing me with her nails as they drift up and down my abs running her fingers lower removing the towel as she parted her legs open welcoming me in between. A pang of guilt hits me briefly, I reconsider momentarily but a woman like her would view this as a rejection. I bring her up and lift her up to take her shirt off. No bra, she knew what she wanted when she knocked on my door.

I kissed her in no rush as the sounds fell from her mouth were quickly becoming one of my favorite sounds. My mouth kissing her jaw as my hands found her perfect tits. I pinched her nipple to see how’d she’d respond, her hips bucked up into me as she called out my name. I took the other in my mouth sucking on being rewarded again with the sound of my name from her lips and the roll of her hips. “What do you need Love? I need to make sure you’re ready. I’m going to need you to take all of me. “ I reached down and teased her clit again with my fingers as my mouth alternated between her breasts . “ How are you so good at this?”she panted as another orgasm crashed through her. “ Because I care Y/N” my eyes still seeing the call connected as I raise up over her aligning myself an enter just as the the aftershocks began to wane but now I slide in, in one full stroke.

Giving her time to adjust, I kiss her languidly my tongue matching, as I begin to move inside her. “I don’t think I can” breathlessly, I stop “can’t what love” I ask as I look her in her eyes. “Come again, but you go ahead.” her voice soft , “ Do you want to come again? Do you want to come around my cock? Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.” I kiss her again hoping she knows I’m sincere. “Yes I want all of it but I don’t know what I need. “ she turns her head away from me unable to meet my eyes. “Hey, it’s okay, stop thinking, comeback to me.” I kiss her again she wraps her arms around me pulling me closer I adjust her legs so that I’m hitting all the right spots. Fucking hell she feels good, and her body is so responsive in this position. I feel the beginning of her orgasm, I need her to finish first, I reach down between us applying a little more pressure, I hear her gasp as she shatters screaming my name, the force of her orgasm pulled me with her as I follow her with a final thrust. She begins to stroke my hair and run her fingers up down my back. I don’t know what she’s thinking, but she’s trying to take care of me. I glance at the phone the call has been disconnected. I break the moment kissing her again as I head to the bathroom. I start a bath for her, I grab a washcloth ,some pain reliever and a bottle of water . I see my own phone and I can’t resist.

I text PAC “ I bet you care now don’t you, bastard”

I turn off my phone, and walk back into the bedroom now.

[real-fire-emblem-takes]

I got a break from work so I’m gonna write this.

Hi, I was the anon that wrote about dimidue and emblaskr (guess that’s the ship name) earlier and the problematic biases underlining both (moreso with Askr and Embla).

Also, I absolutely do not hate Askr, he’s my favorite character, but I did want to hide my identity in that previous take as much as possible since Embla’s a pretty popular character. But it was cowardly of me. The rest of this post is going to elaborate on why Emblaskr is problematic and reflects racist trends in the media.

If Embla truly loved Askr, she would have never tried to hurt him so gravely. Invading his kingdom, trying to kill everyone he holds dear…that isn’t love. That’s obsession, jealousy, selfishness. When he died, I believe it was less that she cared about him, but more that she lost the chance to have someone unfailingly caring about her again. It’s a matter of possession and satisfaction. She can’t have Askr. When she dies she calls out his name, but again that reinforces not her love for him, but her desire to not be alone. It is inherently selfish because even as she dies she thinks only of how she is affected. She laments being alone, not how she cares about Askr. If she cared about him, would she have ever tried to commit such terrible acts of violence and hatred against him? Never in the story do we see her atone, see her feel guilt.

Embla is all about control. Controlling her people, controlling those that go to Askr, controlling Askr even. Because she doesn’t want him to be happier than her. She wants him at her level.

TV Tropes has an article called the Black Best Friend. Askr isn’t confirmed as black, but he is a poc character, and this trope can affect non-black poc as well. The details of this trope are quite similar to how Askr is. For the sake of length I’ll only go through a few.

Askr “is used simply as a means to make the white character look better.“ Without him, Embla would never have received her Freudian excuse. She would have been the equivalent of Surtr without Askr’s existence.

Askr is “flawless to the point of being unreal.“ He is unimaginably perfect. He has no flaws, no deep seated issues to speak of. One can argue he may not have been a good listener to Embla in their flashback, but the problem is that this isn’t an issue that is talked about or delved into. He is also a bit oblivious, but again, this is ignored. It would have been great if Bruno called Askr out for his ignorance and seeming apathy, but it doesn’t happen. What about how he and his sister suffered due to Embla’s bitterness? I would have loved Bruno calling Askr out for trying to paint a sympathetic picture of Embla in front of him, since his life was ruined by and ultimately taken by her later on. And I would have loved if Askr reflected on that, apologized, and realized that he himself does not deserve to be the long-suffering supporter of a woman who hates him and wants to destroy everything and everyone he loves. But this doesn’t happen, and Askr is glossed over to be genetically perfect. We can brush him aside so we can focus on more of Embla. This isn’t good treatment of Askr. Actively ignoring facets of his character to make him bland and generic compared to the “deep” and “complex” Embla is just a symptom of racism, in trying to make sure he doesn’t overshadow her.

Askr “revolves almost entirely around a white character.” (Found in the laconic tab). As before, he is merely focused on the white Embla. He should have been a prominent character on his own, but he is instead quickly killed off (see another familiar trope on the website, Black Dude Dies First). Askr is the first prominent casualty of the book on top of having less screen time than any of the other ocs. We even see Letizia more than him, alive at least. The following times he shows up is in her memories. He provides even more development and focus for Embla!

Askr only exists to uplift the Embla, to carry her trauma and help her process it, and to no benefit of his own. She belittles him, threatens violence against him, and it’s seen as…romantic? The white female character actively engaging in war viciously attacking him and emotionally abusing him is…romantic? If this was a relationship that existed in real life, Askr would be considered a victim of abuse. And there are relationships like this in real life, sadly enough. Embla is capable of her actions and I’m sick of seeing her woobiefied by parts of the fan base. And it is her own fault that she refuses to see past her flaws. She is long past being a victim. It is not Askr’s job to handle her emotional maturity and make her better. Embla is trying to, once again, COMMIT GENOCIDE. Against HIS people! He absolutely does not need to show her kindness, nor does he need to coddle her when HE is the victim! And the audacity to imply that Askr gaining independence and being strong enough to advocate for his worth and safety is “selfish”? (Speaking to the anon whose take was a response to mine). That is wrong on so many levels.

Most of the time, nonwhite characters in media have to be paragons to be even remotely palatable to the fan base. But white characters (most often men, but sometimes women) are often given more excuses for their actions. They can be war criminals. They can be violent and petty and make mistakes. And it is absolutely problematic to DEMAND Askr be there for Embla at all times at the expense of his own mental health. What about his suffering? His pain of being cast aside? The stress he must feel over having to be perfect because if he makes ONE mistake, she snaps? Because that’s what happened! One little misunderstanding and she was lost to her own wickedness. That is frightening to think about, and shows she really was never good. She just had the privilege of being surrounded by goodness and allowed to hide in its light. It is unbelievably disgusting and unrealistic to expect someone to be unfailingly devoted as they are repeatedly broken down by someone who supposedly “loves” them.

.

[collecting-stories]

Style - Sirius Black

Summary: you and Sirius enjoy a somewhat on-again, off-again relationship with each other. Marauders era, post Hogwarts.

A/N: The last Sirius fic I wrote was sort of angsty so I'm trying to remedy that with this.

TS Anthology Series | Harry Potter Masterlist

...could end in burning flames or paradise...

The letter came by owl on the 3rd Tuesday of the month, a crisp envelope, heavy, off-white, your name embossed in golden cursive so delicate it was breathtaking. You were careful not to tear the envelope when you opened it, pulling the card out, the same golden lettering inviting you to the wedding of Lily Evans and James Potter at their home in Godric's Hallow. It would be a summer soiree, a bit of information you knew from a visit there last week and not from the letter itself. Lily had asked you to play maid of honor, since Petunia had outright refused to be part of the wedding in any way at all.

"According to her, I've thrown away my entire identity for this hogwash and she won't play party to it any longer. I think it's just that Vernon she's married, he's a tosser. I hate to speak ill but...least I invited her to my wedding." Lily tapered off at the end as she took the kettle off the stove and poured two cups of tea. 

"Well I'll happily take her place," you said, accepting the cup of tea from her. 

Lily's kitchen was bright and colorful, with windows that felt as if the garden didn't end outside but instead stretched its vines into the house and breathed life into it. She'd never been much for herbology in school, or even basic gardening when she was home but since moving to the cottage in Godric's Hallow she'd found a new love for working outside with her hands. Like she was breathing life into everything around her. You always loved being there, the house was warm and welcoming and a far cry from the quiet of your flat in Cambridge, but your visits were scarce. Especially as of late, it had taken a summons by owl for you to agree to show up for afternoon tea. 

"You'll have to around then, for the rehearsal and the wedding you know? James wants to have a party sometime next week too, sort of an informal announcement that we're marrying. He wanted to just send word, I told him I would send out proper invitations," Lily said, 

"I know," you replied, taking a sip of your tea, "I'll be there. You say it like I'm so hard to come by when I'm a fireplace away. James sounds like he has the right idea, anyway. I'd throw a party and then just get married then. Or skip the party." You said, "and the wedding for that matter."

"Oh, I'm well aware that you'd skip the wedding," she laughed.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You tried your best at sounding scandalized but it was empty, you knew what she was referring to but neither of you had ever actually gotten close to talking about it. It was something that everyone heard of secondhand, whoever had been the first to hear it from you or Sirius, no one could remember, but Lily had never directly discussed it with you and you had never told her exactly what happened. 

She shrugged, grinning rather mischievously as she did. She looked more like James than herself in that moment, "you know James is making Sirius his best man?"

"I know he is. I saw Remus last week and he mentioned the wedding." You replied. "Why?"

"You'll have to see him."

"Are we going to hash all this out right here over tea? I've got nothing against him, we get on perfectly fine," you said, unable to keep the defensive tone out of your voice. 

You had avoided any real discussion about the nature of your relationship with Sirius with any of your friends. They were all his friends too, after all, and it wasn't really any of their business to pry into what happened. Which wasn't really anything particularly astounding. 

"You rarely see each other lately," Lily pointed out. 

"Are you keeping tabs?" You joked, finishing off the tea and standing to take your cup to the sink. The kitchen door clattered open, James stamping his feet on the door mat before stepping over the threshold. They're behind him, Sirius, stepping into the small kitchen and closing the door behind him. In the three seconds it took him to realize that you were there by the sink, Lily had looked over at you with the sort of apologetic look meant to infer that she had no idea he would be coming through the door at all, let alone while you were here. 

"Speak of the devil," you joked, breaking the seconds of awkward silence and the four of you attempted to make out what protocol you were all meant to follow. "Sirius, Lily tells me you'll be walking me down the aisle."

"Sounds like a dream come true," he teased, recovering only a moment after you and flashing you the sort of smile that had made you weak in the knees everyday from 1st to 7th year. 

"Don't get any ideas, Petunia doesn't want to come to the wedding," you replied. 

"Sounds like you're saving me a very uncomfortable afternoon then."

"Did you both want to stay for dinner? I was just going to gather some veg for a salad and I've got some chicken and pasta to make," Lily offered, looking between the two of you. She'd stood up too and was holding her tea cup and saucer in a death grip. Her voice, on the other hand, remained calm, like nothing at all was bothering her. 

"Of course," you agreed, if only to prove that there really was nothing at all wrong and you didn't mind being around Sirius at all. In fact, you wanted to tell her, you hardly thought of him at all. There wasn't any space to tell her that though, and neither of you would have actually believed it at all. "I can grab the veg for you."

"Perfect," Lily nodded. 

The basket she used to collect vegetables and fruit from the garden sat atop the fridge and you grabbed it down, having to go up on your tiptoes to reach. From the corner of your eye, Sirius made a move toward you, as if to help, but then clearly thought better of it, shuffling away from the door instead and letting you manage the task yourself. 

At least the task of taking the basket out into the garden. It took only three short minutes for Sirius to slip out the kitchen door, closing it quietly behind him and walking to the row of raised beds where Lily had been growing lettuces and spinach. You were tearing arugula and placing it in a pile in the corner of the basket when he found you, standing on the other side of the bed to leave space between the two of you. 

"They're all loved up in there," he mentioned, looking back over his shoulder for a moment before he looked back to you, "what've you said to Lily?"

"What've you said to James?" You asked, not looking up as you moved onto some butter lettuce. 

"Nothing, he's talking about the wedding being a good time for...you know, for us seeing each other again." Sirius almost laughed when he said it, "figured you hadn't mentioned to Lily that we've been seeing each other."

"I just figured it'd be easier that way...in case we aren't when the wedding comes around." You pointed out. 

Sirius pouted at you, lower lip jutting out. What Lily knew was true, you and Sirius had broken up (not for the first time) and you weren't really seeing anyone. Not because you were hiding out or anything so petty, just because you were busy and, times being what they were, you didn't have time to sit around with your friends and eat ice cream and complain. Or whatever it was that Lily had told you would be cathartic. The part of it that she didn't know, that you hadn't told her when you'd mentioned seeing Remus the week prior, was that you'd seen Sirius too. They shared the flat in London after all and it was impossible to avoid seeing Sirius when you saw Remus. Your ex had been there and everything had been fine and then Remus had gone to work (probably knowing exactly what would come of him going to work and leaving the two of you alone) and you were suddenly no longer broken up. 

"Don't be such a cynic, it's not becoming," Sirius teased, grinning when you smiled despite yourself. 

"Your hair is getting long," you commented, changing the subject abruptly. 

"My hair is always long." 

"Longer than usual," you replied, reaching out to play with the end of a strand of wavy black hair. Sirius smile softened and his eyes fluttered closed for a moment before he opened them again, watching you pull your hand away and stand up. "Practically on your shoulders."

"You're very concerned about the length of my hair suddenly?" He asked.

"I was thinking about it this morning when we were brushing our teeth but my mouth was full of toothpaste so I couldn't say, and then you went to see James and so I've just thought it again when I looked at you. That your hair is getting long." You explained. 

"I appreciate the mention, thank you."

You shook your head at him and went back to choosing vegetables for the salad, moving to another raised bed. Tomatoes this time, you noted. You went for the smallest of them, cherry sized and yellow in color. Sirius followed after you, taking a few off a vine to eat for himself. 

"We should get a nice little place like this," he mentioned, looking around the garden. He wasn't sure he could picture the two of you in a garden together but something like it might be nice. Sirius wasn't really a cottage type, not like James and Lily, setting up a cozy little corner of the world where they dreamed of raising a family and cultivating a garden and having neighbors. He wasn't sure he wanted all those things, he felt he was supposed to want them, to dream of waking up on Christmas and coming down to a tree all decorated and lots of little versions of the two of you running about. 

"You wouldn't want that," you said, as matter of fact as he knew it to be true. "You would feel too suffocated somewhere like this, who wants to spend forever feeling like they're losing themselves."

"Is that how you thought you would feel?" Sirius asked, reaching for the basket and laying his hand over yours when you gripped the handle. 

"No," you smiled at him, lifting the gravity of his words, "it's how I knew you might feel...especially if you were hellbent on convincing yourself that this was what you wanted. Sirius Black tending a garden and going to markets on Sundays? I've known you too long, my love, you can't fool me quite as well as you fool yourself."

Sirius grinned, giving little away as to whether he was bothered by your words or not. He had grown up with you though, been friends long before you were lovers, and he knew that you could be blunt with your words. "Well, we wouldn't have to have this place," Sirius finally said, "we could have a nice little flat in London."

"I do have a nice little flat in London and you stay over quite a lot," you reasoned. You were tempted to add that enough of his belongings had made their way into your little flat that there was no way to ever truly expel him from your life. You hadn't even tried the last time, just left everything where it was like a relic of a passed life. 

"True," he agreed, going back to picking vegetables. 

"Do you want to tell James and Lily that we're seeing each other again?" You asked, taking up the basket as he tossed a couple cucumbers in. 

"Do you want to be seeing each other?" He replied. It was a foolish insecurity to have, especially for someone who had never experienced much insecurity in previous relationships (though he didn't really have many substantial relationships he could recall off the top of his head), but sometimes he thought that perhaps you were just bidding your time with him. 

You looked almost confused, eyebrows furrowing as you looked at him, "course. I'd see you all the time if I could." 

"Well," Sirius grinned, almost visibly inflating at your words, "who can blame you for that?"

"Alright, let's get inside before your head gets too big to fit through the kitchen door," you teased, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt and tugging gently so that he would follow you. 

Walking back into the kitchen was like breaking a spell, James was taking the basket from your hands and asking if the two of you wanted some wine from a bottle that "a neighbor gave us last week, not sure exactly where they got it, or if they made it themselves, Lily was convinced that they poisoned it but I said that was silly,". 

"Poisoned?" Sirius asked, taking the green glass bottle and uncorking it. He leaned over the bottle and sniffed as if he'd detect whether it was foul or not. "Doesn't smell poisoned."

"Oh can you smell the poison?" You laughed, grabbing a knife from the block on the counter and laying out the vegetables. 

"I have an excellent sniffer, I'll have you know," he argued, "though I will say it's a bit easier to sus out a poison in my furrier form."

"Do not transform yourself into a dog in my kitchen Sirius," Lily snapped, "you never want to put your clothes back on."

"That's got nothing to do with the dog," you commented and James laughed. 

"Didn't realize I'd been invited to dinner just to endure all this abuse." Sirius grumbled though there was a smile threatening to break across his face, letting you know that he wasn't nearly as upset as he was playing at. 

     You sat beside Sirius for dinner, Lily sending you suggestive looks whenever she thought he was too engrossed in conversation with James to notice (though you knew Sirius better than most and were sure that he had most definitely noticed). Dinner at Lily and James' was like always, fun and lighthearted, conversation steering away from anything too troubling (no talk of the coming darkness) until you were all a little more than tipsy and you'd taken to openly leaning against Sirius when the party moved to the living room. 

He was first to take his leave, though he announced that you were going with him, "think we'd best get home, this one's got work in the morning," were his exact words and the way he said 'home' as if it belonged to both of you made your wine drunk heart skip a beat. You were warm from the alcohol and the fire and hugs goodbye but you still managed to wrap yourself in Sirius' arms as you walked down the sidewalk in Godric's. 

"You know, I think it would be quite nice to have a little flat somewhere, we could decorate it together and have all our friends round for dinner parties and we could go all over the world on holidays." You suggested, the grey of his eyes especially haunting as he measured your words. 

"Sounds lovely," he agreed, though whether that was because it did sound lovely or because he was placating you, even he wasn't positive. 

You both went home and the spell of Godric's Hollow was lifted and when the envelope arrived by owl a week later, Sirius was gone again. Back to his shared flat with Remus and you were back to pretending all the pieces of him that he'd left behind didn't hurt. Remus had assured you, when you'd blubbered rather unattractively over the phone with him two days after things turned sour, that it was just the way things worked between the two of you ("eventually one of you, or both of you, god willing, will mature enough to commit to the relationship you both so desperately crave"). The advice was not what you wanted to hear, to no one's surprise, and you resigned yourself instead to the knowledge that you would not have to see Sirius until the wedding, or rehearsal dinner or whatever Lily had planned. You could stay in the flat in Cambridge that was once again, only yours, and Sirius could go about his own life doing whatever it was that he did when you were taking time away from each other. 

By your own determination and Lily's unwavering devotion to you as a friend, there were no run-ins until the rehearsal dinner, which Sirius was late to. He arrived looking somewhat frazzled, on a flying motorcycle of all things, and apologizing profusely to Lily and James for his tardiness. You were standing with Remus, who'd been tasked with walking beside you until Sirius arrived, watching him greet the jovial couple.

"My mum told me that if I would only stop fooling around with Sirius I might find some nice bloke and settle down," you whispered to Remus when he nudged you gently with his elbow. 

"That sounds very uncharacteristic for you," he replied, "do you plan on taking her advice?"

"Unfortunately, for myself and for her, I really don't," you finally tore your gaze away from your sometimes companion (just as he looked your way) to meet Remus' amused gaze, "I always think I will but then he shows up somewhere and I know I won't." 

"Remus, I see you've taken your rightful place as best man," Sirius teased, wedging himself into the nonexistent space between the two of you. If it wasn't so obvious that you and Remus harbored no feelings for each other, someone might have supposed that Sirius was jealous of his friend receiving your attention. 

"I already told James I didn't want it when he asked me first," Remus joked, moving over a step to accommodate his friend. 

"Did you really?" Sirius called, looking around the small crowd for James and then settling on him, "you asked Remus first?"

"Second best again Padfoot," you teased. 

He looked at you with mild surprise before gasping dramatically and clutching at his chest, "my best friends...all this time and it seems all of my best friends prefer Remus over me?"

"Sorry mate," Remus laughed, clapping a hand on Sirius shoulder. 

He waved him away, "it's alright there Moony, I would probably choose you too."

"I was only teasing anyway Sirius," he promised. 

Lily managed to reign the boys in again, one more walk down the aisle with the correct partners, as she so explained, already walking to her place at the end of the pews. She had on a short white dress with a lace overlay that made her look like something out of a magazine. The absolute picture of beauty with her long ginger hair and bright green eyes. You were almost envious as you watched the way James watched his soon to be bride smiling at him from the other side of the small church. But then you moved your gaze down the row of gathered groomsmen, not having to go very far to find Sirius stood beside James, watching you the same way his best friend watched Lily. 

You held his gaze the whole way down the aisle and you thought that your resolution not to let him back into your life would be all for naught. You'd be surprised if he didn't come home with you tonight. 

"I heard he's been out recently," Dorcas whispered, disrupting your dreamlike fantasy and you turned your head, drowning out Lily and James rehearsal vows so that you could hear your friend's gossip better. 

"Who with?"

"I didn't get specifics, Marlene knows though. She's the one that told me." She replied.

"Yeah well, she's the one he was out with last time." You replied. 

"You act like it doesn't bother you." 

You shrugged at the suggestion, "I've been out to."

When you turned back, in time to follow the fake married couple down the aisle, Sirius was extending his arm and staring at you with mild interest. The sort that said he wanted to know what it was you were talking about because of course he had noticed you talking to Dorcas. You only offered a smile though, letting him lead the both of you down to the back of the church where Lily was slipping her feet out of her heels. 

"These blasted shoes, I tried to charm them to be comfortable and it's just been rubbish." She complained, bending to pick them up.

"Ask Mary, she's good at all those nonsensical charms," you offered, ignoring the look Sirius was still giving you. He was standing so close he was hovering and when you continued to ignore him in favor of saying goodbye to Peter and Dorcas, he pinched at your sides. "Would you stop it?"

"Would you pay attention to me?" 

"I pay plenty of attention to you, if I paid you anymore I would go broke," you huffed, turning to look at him. The pinching stopped and he placed his hands on your waist instead, keeping you close enough that he could whisper and no one would overhear the conversation. 

"What did Dorcas say?"

"About what?"

"About...you know what." He replied.

"Ah," you smiled, "about you sleeping around?"

"I'm not sleeping around! Is that what she said? A date or two but not sleeping around, god." He huffed, seeming personally offended by Dorcas' comment.

"Oh stop, I told her it wasn't a bother to me." You replied, "besides, I imagine I know where you'll be sleeping tonight." 

Sirius grinned, "is that an invitation?" 

You nodded, looking over his shoulder to the front of the church, already decorated for the wedding tomorrow morning. "Maybe we should get married?"

"Would you like that?" He asked, pinching at your side once more.

"Stop it!" You laughed and swatted away his hands, "and to answer your question, I wouldn't mind it one bit. Though I'm opposed to taking your last name only, perhaps a hyphen?" 

"Oh god, how about I take yours instead?" He suggested, "forget Black altogether."

You nodded, "we could have our own little flat?"

"Go on lots of holidays." He replied. 

"Oh but I'd feel awful leaving Remus alone in your old place," you pointed out, envisioning a very sad Remus home alone. 

"I really wouldn't mind," the actual one cut in, having overheard his name in the conversation. 

"Nonsense Moony, they could move into ours."

"I don't actually like your flat though Sirius," you replied.

"How could you not like it?"

"Are you three coming?" James called, looking over at your small party. "We're heading out for drinks."

Sirius took your hand, "we shall discuss the logistics later," he promised, pulling you toward the exit of the church where Remus had already joined James and Lily. 

"I look forward to it."

[creative-kny-fics]

And last but not least, my ships from the Kamaboko Squad! (I love them-).

.... I want to make my favorite polyamorous relationships too, someone please get these thoughts out of me

Warning: If you don't like a ship, that's okay, we all have different tastes! But if you ask for respect... I respect you, you respect me.

Don't start with comments like 'x ship is canon', each person has the right to ship whoever they like

They're not in order, I don't have a preference for one or the other

Again, I only like some ships depending on the universe (like Kimetsu Gakuen)

1. Tanjiro Kamado:

A. TanKana (Tanjiro Kamado x Kanao Tsuyuri) (It makes me sad to know that Tanjiro will live only a few years with Kanao 😔)

B. TanZen (Tanjiro Kamado x Zenitsu Agatsuma) ("Your sister is cute" "Yes, what about me?")

C. InoTan (Inosuke Hashibira x Tanjiro Kamado) (he created the name Kamaboko Squad <3)

D. TanAoi (Tanjiro Kamado x Aoi Kanzaki) (Aoi deserves love too, I don't like that the fandom has forgotten her)

E. GenTan (Genya Shinazugawa x Tanjiro Kamado) (Don't let me down with the scene)

F. MuiTan (Muichiro Tokito x Tanjiro Kamado) (TRAINING)

G. TanSen (Tanjiro Kamado x Senjuro Rengoku) (Please don't judge me 😭)

2. Nezuko Kamado:

A. ZenNezu (Zenitsu Agatsuma x Nezuko Kamado) (I know Zenitsu isn't the best boyfriend, but the ship is cute)

B. KanaNezu (Kanao Tsuyuri x Nezuko Kamado) (If you can't keep the guy, you can keep the sister)

C. SenjuNezu (Senjuro Rengoku x Nezuko Kamado) (I only saw a few fanart of them and... <3)

D. MuiNezu (Muichiro Tokito x Nezuko Kamado) (Why do people hate this ship? Isn't it incestuous, where do you get that Tanjiro and Muichiro are cousins?)

3. Zenitsu Agatsuma:

A. ZenNezu (Zenitsu Agatsuma x Nezuko Kamado) (I remembered how Zenitsu wrote the whole plot jsjas)

B. TanZen (Tanjiro Kamado x Zenitsu Agatsuma) (Tanjiro's ray of light)

C. InoZen (Inosuke Hashibira x Zenitsu Agatsuma) (They both have to be taken care of by Tanjiro)

D. ZenAoi (Zenitsu Agatsuma x Aoi Kanzaki) (Where did the ship come from? I do not know. I like it? Yes)

E. GenZen (Genya Shinazugawa x Zenitsu Agatsuma) (They're sillies and you have to take care of them)

4. Inosuke Hashibira:

A. InoAoi (Inosuke Hashibira x Aoi Kanzaki) (Tempura tempura tempura)

B. InoTan (Inosuke Hashibira x Tanjiro Kamado) (Season One, I Thank You)

C. InoZen (Inosuke Hashibira x Zenitsu Agatsuma) (In the red light district arc, I felt Inosuke tell Zenitsu "sleeping beauty" jahsjsgsa)

D. GenIno (Genya Shinazugawa x Inosuke Hashibira) (*inserts furious scream*)

5. Genya Shinazugawa:

A. GenMui (Genya Shinazugawa x Muichiro Tokito) (Gyomei's spoiled children)

B. GenTan (Genya Shinazugawa x Tanjiro Kamado) (I saw the arch of the village again. You can imagine)

C. GenZen (Genya Shinazugawa x Zenitsu Agatsuma) (Both of them at some point got into a fight with Inosuke jagsksgskahs)

D. GenAoi (Genya Shinazugawa x Aoi Kanzaki) (They look cute together, they both have hashira brothers, and they both play important roles <3)

E. GenKana (Genya Shinazugawa x Kanao Tsuyuri) (Tanjiro being the cupid of both)

F. GenSen (Genya Shinazugawa x Senjuro Rengoku) (I've seen their fanart and they're cute too, deal with that)

G. GenNezu (Genya Shinazugawa x Nezuko Kamado) (Genya would treat her well, you're not going to convince me otherwise)

6. Kanao Tsuyuri:

A. TanKana (Tanjiro Kamado x Kanao Tsuyuri) (Kanao no longer needs her coin thanks to Tanjiro)

B. GenKana (Genya Shinazugawa x Kanao Tsuyuri) (I need more content from these two, please)

C. KanaNezu (Kanao Tsuyuri x Nezuko Kamado) (My two princesses, yes sir)

D. KanaUme (Kanao Tsuyuri x Ume Shabana) (This in Kimetsu Gakuen)

7. Senjuro Rengoku:

A. SenNezu (Senjuro Rengoku x Nezuko Kamado) (I also require content from these two)

B. MuiSen (Muichiro Tokito x Senjuro Rengoku) (I don't remember if I put it on my previous tab, but I like these two together)

C. GenSen (Genya Shinazugawa x Senjuro Rengoku) (Kyojuro would surely kill Genya jajsgsjsga)

8. Aoi Kanzaki:

A. InoAoi (Inosuke Hashibira x Aoi Kanzaki) (My lovely ones)

B. TanAoi (Tanjiro Kamado x Aoi Kanzaki) (Why people don't like this ship?)

C. GenAoi (Genya Shinazugawa x Aoi Kanzaki) (Happy happy happy~)

D. ZenAoi (Zenitsu Agatsuma x Aoi Kanzaki) (It's a rare pair, but I like it)

A.N: I'm starting to consider pairing Senjuro with Aoi, help (I got the desire)

E. AoiSen (Aoi Kanzaki x Senjuro Rengoku) (🩷)

[hantengus-fuckass-clones]

Hi there my bbg (big black guy 🥰🥰)‼️‼️‼️ I have a teeny weeny request to make. How about f!child reader x Hantengu(s)?

Here's plot:

So, basically, Hantengu is getting chased by slayers, right, and it's also bright out. So, he runs and runs, but bumps into a child who somehow catches the speedy lil fuck and takes him home, thinking he's cute and y'know "you're my friend now :D" type shit. But then, here's the thing, child reader is an orphan and the brothers and sisters and the caretaker aren't very nice to the lil baby ): (Hantengu is gone btw). So, she runs away and goes into the forest Hantengu came out of when boom bam, she's attacked by demons and faints out of literal fear. The next thing she knows, little friend is on top of her with four big scary men (and soon two more friends) who then vow to take care of her as a thanks for saving Hantengu (let's be realistic here tho she's gonna get turned into a demon if that's the case)

That's is all 😊😊😊😊

Here you go. This was very fun to write. I love writing Zoha as someone who is soft with children

Readers POV:

Yet again I had been shut out the house and left to fend for myself so I had taken to wandering the forest in hopes of finding something to keep me occupied. Off in the distance I hear the screeching of metal and thunderous footsteps which put little old me on edge as I back up into a tree in fear, my little ears picking up the tiny patter of fast little feet on the forest floor and out of instinct my hands shoot out and catch whatever was rushing at me and hiding behind the tree as many a armed men rush past us angrily shouting. I wait until they are long gone before opening my hands to be met with the sight of the smallest person I think i’ve ever seen, he trembles in my hands begging over and over again to not hurt him but the only thought running through my mind is ‘TINY FRIEND!!!’

I bring him up to my face and nuzzle my cheek against him gently which stops his crying, albeit probably out of confusion more then anything else, as I ramble on and on about how small he is and how i’ll protect him from the horrors of this world. When both of our heads swivel around at the sound of the angry men coming back our way, my hands feel a tab bit lighter as I look back down to see the little friend is gone and the angry men turn the tree to find me standing there. “Hey hey little one it’s alright, can you tell us if you’ve seen a demon around here?” One of the men crouch down to my level, asking if i’ve seen a…. demon? what the hell is a demon? I shake my head, not wanting to speak to the men that were running around screaming their heads off and slowly inching away from them and running off back ‘home’ as the sun peaks over the horizon.

I open the sliding doors to the house and am greeted to screaming from my adopted mother as she drags me to the stove to help her cook as I am still too small to cook properly (much to her chagrin). She shoves a knife in my hands and instructs me to start cutting the fruit and for 20 minutes, that’s all we do in silence. The silence is broken by a pair of running feet as my adopted family’s actual children round the corner, pushing and shoving each other playfully. My ‘mother’ turning around with a smile on her face, a smile that would never be aimed at me, and gently scolded them for roughhousing before turning back to me and demanding that I serve her children breakfast. I do as i’m told before scurrying off to my ‘room’ (the closet) so that i’m not yelled at for being seen.

I think back to the tiny friend I made the previous night, how cruel it seemed to be chasing him and if he was doing alright. I sat in that room until nightfall where the house fell into silence which is when I decided to run away. These people didn’t care for me and I could probably do better in the wild then here, at least that’s what my eight year old brain was telling me. So I packed my little bag and ran out the house into the forest to try and find my tiny friend. It had been about 20 minutes and no sign of my tiny friend but growls in the distance had me on edge for the second time in this forest, suddenly a creature of disproportionate size lunges out of the bushes at me and I scream as it lands its claws into my chest. Not enough to kill me but enough to hurt and the next thing I know, I faint out of a mix of fear and pain.

I groan in pain and manage to open my eyes to see…. tiny friend?! Whimpering and crying as he covers me with his body, from the peaks of his kimono I can see four other people beating the daylights out of the creature that attacked me. Looking up at my tiny friend as his tears drip down on my face, I reach up and with the sleeve of my tattered kimono I wipe his tears away and he stops his hysterical sobbing, quietening down to hiccups. “Don’t cry tiny friend i’m alright see?” I point to my chest, only now realising that the wound was gone, not even a scar remained as I gasp and pat at the area. “oh hey, where’d it go?” My intrigue turned back to tiny friend as if he knew. “I-I-I couldn’t help ittt, not my fault. I made you swallow some of my blood.” His explanation isn’t the best, especially when I don’t know what demon blood did to humans. Nevertheless, I cheer and throw my arms around tiny friend thanking him for saving me. By this time, the four men hand finished and were gathered around us, tiny friend shrunk to be picked up as the one wearing a kimono matching his, picks him up, eyeing me carefully. The winged one has no concerns, picking me up playfully, being careful of his claws as he lifts me up to his face and examines me. “This the one Hantengu?” He asks tiny friend who I now know the name of, Hantengu nodding his head and the four of them started walking further into the forest.

After a while, we come across a run down shack an we enter, it smells of blood and dust. A larger version of Hantengu turns the corner and takes tiny friend out of the red mans hands, eyeing me carefully. We all move into the living room (I don’t know if they had these but they do now) where I see yet another person, this one looked younger, although not as young as he. his brows furrowed as he sets an intense glare upon me. “Is this the one that protected Hantengu?” I am shocked, his voice sounds so much deeper then I would have expected it to sound. The one holding me nodded, throwing me up and catching me a couple of times. “Don’t do that, you’ll drop her and that’ll be upsetting” The blue man with a sad frown spoke up yet made no move to take me out the winged mans hands. The green one with no shirt on laughs out loud at this statement. “Oh Aizetsu you do say the funniest things! Urogi won’t drop her she means too much to the old man” I had learnt two more names as the largest one snatched me out of Urogi’s arms and settling me in his lap with Hantengu, who pinned himself to my side as the red one growled at the antics of the others. “God you lot are insufferable!” He snaps to which the youngest one nods in agreement, the furrow in his brow becoming deeper as he finally takes his intense gaze off me.

“Awwwah Sekido! You always ruin all the fun, you as well Urami” The green one whines although he doesn’t look too upset at the yelling like Aizetsu does. Yet another two names are learnt, the red man is Sekido and the one holding me and tiny friend is called Urami. The only two nameless men left are the green one and younger one. Sekido growls again. “Karaku…” His voice is threatening as I now learn the green mans name. “Enough both of you!” Urami growls from above me and Hantengu grips my kimono in his little hands which I awe at, he’s so small which I find cute. What I haven’t realised yet is the small horns and purple discolouring that decorated my face like the men in the room. Karaku keeps his giggling, poking fun at Sekido and Urami as Urogi joins in, Aizetsu having left the room, sensing the incoming shit storm. Urami’s grip on his arms tightens as he stands up and shoves me and Hantengu into the younger mans arms, storming up to Karaku and Urogi, grabbing them both and draggin them outside with Sekido following.

All three pairs of eyes follow them as they leave, a moment of silence passes over us as the younger one keeps a tight grasp on us and I risk looking up at him only to be met by an intense stare. “You saved Hantengu from those villians and for that you have our gratitude small one.” He raises a finger to prod my forehead and horns, which I now realise I have. “To show our thanks, we have made you just like us and we will take care of you from now on. Oh where are my manners, My name is Zohakuten” My head nods in acknowledgement as my hands reach up to touch my horns, they are short, stubby and very firm. I look back down at tiny friend and point to my horns. “Look! Now i’m just like you tiny friend.” I am ecstatic, not realising what demon life would mean for me. Hantengu nods about as cheerfully as he could. I yawn, regeneration having taken a toll on my weak demon body as I snuggle into Zohakuten, holding Hantengu in my arms. Drifting off into a dreamless sleep, I swear I felt a small kiss being placed on the top of my head.