#frame that into the shot guys!!!!! that's fine!!!!!!!

[ivyues]

Tangled Lines | 1 | - Seungmin

Seungmin x Lee Know's sister

What started as a simple favor, dropping off a bag, spirals into a whirlwind of unexpected feelings and unspoken tension.

Part 2: Caught in the Middle | Part 3: Future Hyung-in-Law

It was supposed to be a quick errand. Lee Know had left his bag at home, and you were on your way to Seoul for a short trip anyway. You’d planned to drop it off at his dorm – no big deal. You didn’t expect much, certainly not a run-in with anyone other than your brother.

You followed the directions Lee Know had sent you and pulled up to the apartment complex. He'd mentioned his dorm several times, but this was the first time you’d ever actually been here. As you walked up to the door, you hesitated for a moment, unsure.

You rang the doorbell and waited. After a few moments, the door swung open, and there stood a guy you didn’t recognize.

He was tall-ish, dressed casually, with messy dark hair and an easy smile. And though you didn’t know exactly who he was, you couldn’t help but notice how cute he looked, his eyes lighting up with surprise and curiosity when he saw you standing there with a bag in hand.

“Hi…?” You hesitated, unsure if you had the right place. “Uh, I’m looking for Lee Minho? I’m his sister – he left something at home and I’m supposed to drop it off.”

The guy blinked in confusion for a split second, then his expression softened into something warmer. “Ah, so you’re his sister. He didn’t really mention that he has one. I’m Seungmin, by the way. Hyung isn’t home right now, but you’re welcome to wait.”

You were still standing at the door, processing everything. This was definitely not Lee Know. You had imagined this whole interaction would be simple: drop off the bag, say a quick hello, and head out. But there was something about Seungmin’s easy going demeanor that made you hesitate.

“Oh,” you said, realizing you were probably standing there awkwardly. You tried to adjust the bag in your hand, giving him a nervous smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I can just leave it here—”

“No, no,” Seungmin cut you off, holding up his hands in a gesture of reassurance. “It’s fine. Come on in. He would probably kill me if I didn’t let you inside. Lee Know’s stuff is everywhere, though – warning in advance.” He gave a sheepish grin, clearly used to the chaos.

“Okay, thanks,” you said, stepping inside.

As soon as you entered, you realized that he was right – Lee Know’s ‘stuff’ was indeed scattered everywhere. Shoes piled near the door, jackets on the couch, random snacks, and clutter in every corner. It felt so… lived-in. Real. It was kind of charming, in a messy, chaotic way.

“So, do you guys always live like this?” you asked, half teasing, half amused by the clutter.

Seungmin chuckled. “You should see Felix’s side. This is nothing compared to his mess.” He led you into the living room, where he motioned to the couch. “Make yourself at home. I’ll grab some water for you while you wait.”

As Seungmin disappeared into the kitchen, you sat down on the couch, looking around. You hadn’t expected to spend time here, but the laid-back atmosphere made it feel oddly comfortable. You noticed a few framed photos of the group on the wall – some from concerts, others just candid shots of the guys laughing together.

Seungmin returned with a glass of water and handed it to you. He sat down on the arm of the couch, casually resting one foot on the seat. He didn’t seem rushed, nor did he act weird about the fact that you were here in Lee Know’s absence.

“So, I take it you and Lee Know are pretty close?” Seungmin asked, taking a sip from his own glass of water.

“Yeah, we’re close,” you said with a smile. “He’s my older brother, so, of course, he’s annoying. But that’s what older brothers are for, right?”

Seungmin nodded, his lips curving into a grin. “I know exactly what you mean.”

You laughed, the easy back-and-forth making you feel more comfortable. And, truth be told, you found yourself glancing at him more than you had planned. He was cute, undeniably so, with his expressive eyes and the way he seemed so effortlessly relaxed even in the middle of a stranger walking into his home.

You casually brought up something about how Lee Know was always messing around with his bandmates, and Seungmin smiled at the comment, sharing a story of their last rehearsal and how Lee Know had pulled a prank on Hyunjin. It felt so easy, like you were just chatting with a friend you’d known forever.

A few minutes later, you heard the door open, and you looked up to see Lee Know walking in with Felix and I.N trailing behind him. He froze when he saw you sitting there with Seungmin, a strange look flashing across his face.

“Uh,” Lee Know said, his voice tinged with surprise and something else you couldn’t quite place. “What are you doing here?”

“I brought your bag,” you said casually, holding it up for him. “You left it at home. Seungmin was nice enough to let me wait for you.”

Lee Know shot a quick glance at Seungmin, who was now grinning, clearly enjoying the moment. “So you two are already chatting it up?”

“Yeah,” Seungmin replied smoothly. “We were just getting to know each other. Your sister’s cool.”

Seungmin didn’t just mean it as a compliment; there was a teasing note to his voice, and you could tell he was just enjoying the moment with Lee Know. But there was something in the way he spoke, as though he was daring Lee Know to be annoyed. You could tell it was playful – he wasn’t quite serious, and he didn’t think anything more would come from it. After all, he didn’t even want to start anything that might cause trouble. But for now, he wanted to tease Lee Know, especially since it was so easy to get a rise out of him like that.

You stood up, handing Lee Know the bag. “I’ll leave you guys to it.”

You could tell by the way Seungmin looked at you that he wasn’t just teasing you; there was something more genuine behind the conversation. But of course, you’d never let your brother know that.

-----

Felix, ever the social butterfly, had exchanged numbers with you long before, and somewhere in the process of joking group chats and shared chaos, Seungmin had slid into your messages.

The texts started off simple.

A casual “thanks for the water” message after your first visit turned into occasional updates about Lee Know: "Your brother’s sulking because Changbin ate his snacks again" or "Did he always hoard laundry like this?" 

You didn’t think much of it at first. After all, Seungmin was easy to talk to. He had a quick wit that matched your sarcasm, and his humor always made you laugh harder than you’d admit. But the conversations had shifted somewhere along the way – becoming more personal, more frequent.

It wasn’t just updates about Lee Know anymore.

Seungmin: “Did you see that new ramen place on your side of town?” You: “I’ve heard it’s good. Why, thinking of coming all the way here?” Seungmin: “Maybe I just needed an excuse.”

It was subtle, these shifts. A lingering tone of something that felt like flirting but stayed safely within the lines of plausible deniability. But you caught yourself smiling at his messages more than you should.

The problem was, you liked him.

Not in a passing way or a harmless crush you could laugh off later. No, Seungmin’s steady humor and surprising kindness were becoming harder to ignore. He wasn’t just cute; he was the kind of guy who listened, who noticed little things, who made you feel at ease even when you were overthinking everything.

But every time you thought about it – about what it might mean – you hit a wall.

Your brother’s voice played in your head whenever you thought about crossing that invisible line. What would he think if he knew? Worse, what if it messed things up in the group? You didn’t want to be the reason Seungmin hesitated during practice or avoided Lee Know’s eye.

And Seungmin? Well, he had his own internal battle.

The teasing texts and playful banter were easy – familiar ground that didn’t require him to confront how he was starting to feel about you. But when you sent him a photo of the ramen you’d finally tried, captioned with "Guess you missed out", he stared at his screen longer than he should have.

It wasn’t the photo or the food. It was your smile, that small, effortless curve of your lips that had been stuck in his mind since the day you showed up at the dorm.

"Get it together, Seungmin," he muttered under his breath.

Lee Know was his friend, his brother in everything but blood. And falling for you wasn’t just breaking an unspoken rule; it felt like betraying that bond.

One night, after a long day of rehearsals, Seungmin found himself scrolling through your chat history. His finger hovered over the keyboard, debating whether or not to reply to your latest message. You’d sent him a photo of one of your cats – curled up in a pile of freshly folded laundry.

He smiled despite the unease feelings, typing back before he could second-guess it:

“Looks like you’re more of a cat person too. Must run in the family.” You replied instantly “I love my cats, but I don’t mind dogs either. Don’t tell Lee Know though – he’d probably disown me for even saying that.” and the conversation spiraled into a late-night exchange about pets, chaotic siblings, and everything in between. It was easy. Too easy.

And then you said something that made his heart stop.

“I always feel like I can tell you anything. Weird, right?”

He stared at the words, feeling a tug in his chest that he couldn’t ignore anymore. He wanted to feel proud of that – of being someone you trusted. But all he could think about was how wrong it felt to be the person catching feelings for you.

He set his phone down, rubbing a hand over his face. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

You’d noticed the shift in his texts lately – the hesitation, the shorter replies. You felt a pang of guilt. Maybe he was pulling back, realizing that this… whatever it was between you… shouldn’t be happening.

And you couldn’t blame him. You’d thought about pulling back yourself.

But instead, late one evening, you found yourself typing out a message you weren’t sure you’d send.

You: “I feel like we’ve both been avoiding something. And I get it – I do. But… I can’t keep pretending I don’t care about you. And I don’t want to mess things up for you or my brother, so if this needs to stop, just tell me, okay?”

You stared at the screen for what felt like an eternity before pressing send.

Seungmin: “I care about you too. Probably more than I should. But I don’t want this to hurt anyone – least of all you.”

The relief of his words hit you immediately, but so did the weight of his hesitation.

You: “So what do we do?”

Seungmin hesitated, his fingers hovering over the keyboard before he finally typed:

Seungmin: “We take it slow. We’re honest – with each other, with Lee Know, when the time’s right. And if this starts feeling wrong, we stop. No questions asked.”

-----

Seungmin sat in the practice room long after everyone else had left. He fiddled with his phone, the screen dark, but his thoughts racing. He had made a decision, one he couldn’t back out of now.

He unlocked his phone, scrolling to your name in his messages.

Seungmin: “I’m going to talk to him.”

The three dots indicating your reply appeared almost instantly.

You: “Are you crazy?”

Seungmin could almost hear your voice in the text – half incredulous, half offended.

You: “I mean, I get it. He deserves to know, and I respect that. But seriously… you’re telling him this?”

Seungmin: “I don’t want to go behind his back. It’s not just about this – it’s about the group, too. This has to be on the table.”

You: “Fine. But don’t expect me to save you if he kills you.”

He smiled faintly at the reply but couldn’t shake the nerves coiled in his chest.

When Lee Know walked into the practice room, his phone still in his hands, he paused, eyebrows furrowed. “What are you still doing here?”

Seungmin stood up, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Waiting for you.”

Lee Know gave him a wary glance, closing the door behind him. “What’s this about?”

“Hyung,” Seungmin started, his tone unusually serious, “can we talk for a minute? Like, for real?”

Lee Know’s expression shifted slightly at the earnestness in Seungmin’s voice. “Okay… What’s up?”

Seungmin sat back down on the couch, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s about your sister.”

Lee Know’s posture straightened immediately, his eyes narrowing. “What about her?”

Seungmin hesitated for a moment before forcing himself to meet Lee Know’s gaze. “Since she dropped off your bag… we’ve been talking. Just texting, mostly. Nothing serious has happened, and I swear it hasn’t crossed any lines. But… I like her.”

The room went uncomfortably quiet. Lee Know blinked slowly, his face unreadable.

“You like her?” he repeated, his tone flat.

Seungmin nodded. “Yeah. And I wanted to tell you before anything else happened because…” He exhaled, his voice softening. “Because I respect you, hyung. You’re like a brother to me, and I don’t want to screw that up by hiding something like this from you.”

Lee Know stared at him for a long moment, his expression somewhere between disbelief and scrutiny.

Finally, he sighed, crossing his arms. “I don’t even know where to start. First of all, you? Of all people?”

Seungmin let out a dry laugh. “What, am I not good enough?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Lee Know shot back, rolling his eyes. “It’s just… unexpected.”

“Trust me, it’s unexpected for me too,” Seungmin admitted.

Lee Know rubbed his temples. “You’re not messing around, are you? This isn’t some prank or… I don’t know, something stupid?”

“It’s not a joke,” Seungmin said firmly. “I mean it. And honestly…” He hesitated, then added, “Maybe it won’t even go anywhere. I don’t know. It’s early, and nothing has really happened yet. But I’d rather be upfront about it than hide it.”

Lee Know studied him for another long moment before letting out a heavy sigh. “Look, I’m not thrilled about this. She’s my sister, Seungmin. And you’re…” He gestured vaguely. “You’re you.”

Lee Know leaned forward, his voice dropping as he let out a soft groan. “But I get it. She’s great. And I can't exactly tell her who to see.”

Seungmin’s shoulders relaxed a fraction, relief flickering across his face.

“That said,” Lee Know continued, his tone sharpening again, “if you screw this up – even a little – I will make your life miserable. And I don’t mean in a fun, teasing way. Got it?”

Seungmin nodded seriously. “Understood.”

Lee Know leaned back, shaking his head. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

“I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t,” Seungmin said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Good. Now get out of here before I change my mind.”

Seungmin stood up. “Thanks, hyung.”

As Seungmin left the practice room, Lee Know called after him, “And don’t expect me to go easy on you during dance practice!”

-----

Later that night, Seungmin texted you.

Seungmin: “Mission accomplished. I’m alive, and your brother didn’t kill me.”

You: “I’m surprised. I half-expected him to throw you out a window.”

Seungmin: “He might have, but I reminded him how irreplaceable I am. Also, he threatened me, so we’re all good now.”

You laughed at the text, shaking your head.

Your phone buzzed again, this time with a message from Lee Know.

Lee Know: “Seriously? The dog? I’m telling Songie, Dongie, and Dori that you don’t love them anymore.”

masterlist

[goldenrulemotherfucker]

WHICH COULD MEAN NOTHING

(thanks to this tweet for pointing this out!)

[skunkes]

longlegs fucking sucked 😭

[hauntingblue]

making a collection

making another collection with a threatening aura

[syrupbitee]

edited//original

poorly edited wangnan screenshot beacuse what tf are those colors they gave him

[naivety]

if you even care

[norikuna]

MAMA, A DIVA BEHIND YOU! — toji fushiguro sfw!

prologue. → toji loves his son, he really does. unfortunately, young megumi is less than receptive when it comes to toji's efforts to impress the pretty neighbour who just moved into the apartment down the hall.

or five times megumi actively made toji's love life worse. and the one time he actually helped.

pairing. toji fushiguro x afab!reader

warnings. megumi is his own warning. mild age gap implied. non sorcerer au, toji is raising megumi on his own. reader has she/her pronouns. nothing else, just shenanigans :) toji gets knocked down a few pegs by his son 😭 mildly ooc toji <3

word count. song inspiration. paper rings — taylor swift

a/n. this is sooo silly and for fun lol 😭 i feel like you can tell this just isn't my genre or writing style 😭

mp3. i like shiny things, but i'd marry you with paper rings <3

TOJI FUSHIGURO didn't have a lot of treasures in life. he just wasn't that type of guy. treasures were for people with their lives together — the kind who budgeted for organic vegetables and owned matching socks. toji's list of prized possessions was short: a semi-reliable pay check, a fridge that kept his beer cold on a good day, and the one channel that aired late-night baseball games.

oh, and his kid. megumi fushiguro.

the little brat was the one thing in toji's life he could call a blessing without choking on the word. but lately? toji was seriously considering the logistics of international shipping. could you send a five year old punk to siberia? where was the paperwork for that?

everything had been fine. hell, downright manageable. until you moved in down the hall.

at first, toji didn't give a fuck. neighbours were usually either noisy or nosy, and sometimes the tragic combination of both. the last guy had banged on his door at least once a week, yelling about toji's late-night weightlifting sessions and muttering something about 'quiet hours.'

toji had pegged you for the same. maybe with a yoga met and too many scented candles.

but then, you showed up on his doorstep with a kind smile that could probably light up half the districts in the city. and a polite, sweet, "excuse me, but could you help me with my bed frame?"

and that was it.

the universe must've been real bored, because that was the moment it decided that toji fushiguro — self proclaimed expert on not giving a damn, was going to lose his damn mind like cupid has struck him with the painful arrows of a crush. and he was a goner.

take #1 — my neck, my back

spring in tokyo had come into full bloom, the kind of day where the air smelled faintly of sunshine, and the cherry blossoms drifted around like lazy, little freeloaders. below the apartment complex, the park wasn't much to write home about — a scrappy patch of grass, a couple of benches that looked like they'd seen some shit, and a swing set that squeaked like it had a vendetta against joy.

but for toji? it was good enough.

he'd figured this 'let me show you around because i'm so friendly' outing would be low effort. easy. casual and neighbourly, even. except now, he was leaning against a tree which was far harder than it sounded when his lower back was screaming at him louder than megumi had this morning about brushing his teeth.

but you stood nearby, smiling that damn warm and disarming smile of yours, gently plucking a stray blossom from megumi's messy hair. the kid, for his part, was pointedly ignoring you both, kicking rocks with the type of dedication usually reserved for a brat trying to avoid his homework.

toji cleared his throat, "so, uh, the area's not bad. quiet most of the time. that convenience store over there's open late. great for snacks. or milk. y'know, the owner's a bit of a bitc —"

"why are you standing like that?"

megumi's voice cut through his rehearsed tour like a rusty knife.

toji shot him a sharp glance. a look that screamed: keep your mouth shut, kid.

megumi just tilted his head, all faux innocence, and then delivered the killing blow with those sea-green eyes gleaming in what toji was certain was pure maliciousness, "dad, your back hurts again, doesn’t it?"

toji froze, scrambling for damage control, but you were already pressing your lips together, trying not to laugh. trying. but he could see the corners of your mouth twitching.

"back's fine," toji huffed, straightening up too fast. something in his spine must have popped loud enough to startle a crow off a branch, "solid a rock, hah! good as new."

megumi glanced at his scuffed sneakers, and then back up, "you said it was hard getting off the couch this morning. didn't you say you're old now and falling apart?"

toji's entire soul left his body. the punk was a traitor to a family name. he should have just sent megumi back to the clan long ago.

"don't you have a rock to kick?" he hissed.

"already did all that."

and that was it. your laugh finally burst out, bright and loud, ringing through the little patch of a park. toji found himself staring at you like some idiot in a rom-com who’d just realised he was completely doomed.

"kids, huh?" he muttered, throwing megumi a glare that promised revenge.

"kids," you agreed, eyes still sparkling as you excused yourself, something about leaving a pot on the stove. you gave toji one last look as you turned to go, warm and soft with that lingering amusement.

toji leaned back against the tree once you were gone, letting out a long sigh. megumi was still standing there, kicking the same patch of dirt, as though he were trying to discover unseen archaeological wonders underneath the earth.

"you're lucky i don’t sell you to a circus," toji grumbled under his breath.

megumi didn’t even look up, "you wouldn’t get that much for me."

smart-ass kid.

take #2 — the liar's pants are blazing on fire

walking someone home shouldn't have felt like scaling mount fuji, but toji fushiguro was now sweating bullet. the evening was crisp, the air cool enough to keep him from outright drowning in these stupid nerves, but it helped little.

the streetlights flickered on one by one, casting a faint yellow glow over the neighbourhood. nothing fancy — just rows of small apartments with laundry dangling off balconies and the occasional stray cat darting under parked car. it wasn't exactly romantic, but in the soft glow of the spring, it didn't look that bad.

you walked besides him, laughing at some half-assed joke he'd cracked earlier. and damn, toji liked that sound. more than he should've. more than he'd admit to anyone, including himself. now though, the silence had crept back in, and he was left psyching himself up for the move.

just hold her hand, his brain hissed, it's not rocket science. come on, man. no! wait, give her a compliment, call her hot. ugh, idiot. don't say that yet -

his thick fingers flexed awkwardly at this side as he tried to look natural. a valiant losing battle when every nerve in his body screamed, you have one job, fushiguro. don't ruin this.

"dad!"

toji's head snapped up like a startled animal, and there he was. megumi. his kid. his little shadow. gasping, clutching his throat, and staggering toward them like a samurai dying in glorious battle.

"dad! i — i can't breathe!" megumi wheezed, voice raspy as he doubled over in dramatic agony.

toji blinked. what the —

"i think i'm dying!" megumi croaked, collapsing onto the sidewalk with all the subtlety of a boulder tumbling down a hill.

toji sighed, already pinching the bridge of his nose. should’ve known. thid kid had been hanging around that white-haired freak downstairs too much. what had that gojo satoru been teaching him? shakespearean death monologues?

"what is it this time?" toji asked flatly, his voice like gravel.

"maybe, maybe it's the peanuts!" megumi sputtered, clutching his chest now, because why not? "the ones i ate at home! i think i'm allergic!"

toji stared at him, unimpressed. this was the same kid who could inhale salted peanuts by the handful, barely pausing for air, like he was training for some bizarre snack-eating championship.

"you're not allergic," toji deadpanned.

"i think i am!" megumi wheezed, dropping to his knees, his little hands shaking dramatically.

"oh my god!" you gasped, wide-eyed. "should we — i mean, do we need to take him to the hospital? i can drive —"

toji waved a rough hand, trying to salvage what little dignity he had left, "nah, kid’s fine. just go on home. i'll handle this."

"but —"

"it's fine," toji insisted, forcing what he hoped was a reassuring smile, even as megumi collapsed onto the pavement like he’d been struck by lightning.

you had hesitated, clearly torn, but eventually nodded, "okay… but call me if you need anything, okay?"

toji nodded, biting back the heat threatening to crawl up his neck. "yeah, yeah. go on."

the second you turned the corner, toji crouched next to his "dying" son, who immediately cracked one eye open and coughed weakly for good measure.

"what the hell was that?" toji grunted, "what did i say about huffing gasoline in the laundry?"

"don't do it."

toji flicked the punk's forehead, "mhm, so?"

megumi shrugged, sitting up and dusting off his pants. "thought i was allergic."

"to peanuts? that shit you eat everyday?"

"better safe than sorry, dad."

toji huffed, ruffling a hand through his choppy black hair. he glanced in the direction you’d gone, muttering under his breath, "you're lucky you’re cute, kid."

the next morning, toji opened his door to find a basket sitting on the mat. a pristine, gingham-lined basket packed with golden, buttery pastries and muffins that smelled like heaven. attached was a note:

for megumi! i hope he’s feeling better!

karmic justice demanded that toji sit down, scarf it entirely, and leave nothing but crumbs for the little brat. he'd earned that much.

take #3 — they didn't get my nose right!

toji fushiguro didn’t get flustered easily. fights? He could eat a punch for breakfast. bills? well, avoidance was a valid financial strategy. but you, sitting on his couch, smiling at him like you’d never met a red flag you didn’t want to rehabilitate, while unpacking groceries for him and megumi? that was uncharted territory.

terrifying.

the apartment was...presentable. which was more than he could say ten minutes before you arrived, when he'd barked at megumi like a drill sergeant to hide every suspicious stain and questionable stack of dishes. now, the faint sting of cleaning spray lingered in the air, and the tiny place almost looked cozy. not that toji would admit it.

"you didn’t have to bring anything," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"oh, it's no trouble!" you chirped, beaming like some kind of saint. "i thought you and megumi might like some fresh vegetables. and i couldn’t resist grabbing some sweets for him."

from the corner of the room, megumi's ears perked up at sweets. he dropped the crayon he’d been chewing (toji pretended not to see it) and padded over, all innocent wide eyes and suspiciously good behaviour.

"dad," megumi started, his tone way too angelic for a kid who regularly schemed like a demonic manga villain, “can i show her my drawing?"

toji utterly froze.

megumi never asked to show off his drawings. usually, he just thrust them into unsuspecting hands like a nosy salesman who couldn't take no for an answer. this? this was premeditated.

"uh," toji grunted, squinting at the kid. "maybe later. she’s busy."

but you, bless your overly trusting heart, smiled and said, "oh, i'd love to see it! i'm sure it's adorable."

toji didn’t even have time to stop him. megumi whipped out a crumpled paper from his pocket like he was smuggling state secrets and handed it to you with an air of triumph.

you unfolded it carefully, and toji wanted to crawl into the walls.

there it was: a chaotic, technicolor mess of lines and smudges.

and centre stage?

a terrifyingly accurate caricature of him labeled "dad," locked in what could only be described as a life-or-death struggle with a rabid raccoon twice his size. above his head, a speech bubble screamed, "no!" while the raccoon yelled back, "mine!"

toji groaned so loud it could’ve registered on the richter scale, "kid. seriously?"

your laughter was instant and loud, the kind that made you clutch your sides and tear up. "this — oh my god, this is amazing!" you wheezed, doubling over.

"it’s not even accurate," toji muttered, crossing his arms, his biceps straining against his shirt like they were trying to leave this embarrassing moment behind. "i won."

"dad didn’t win," megumi piped up, as smug as a kid who’d just blown up his old man’s spot in front of a pretty lady, "the raccoon stole the chips."

"megumi," toji growled, pinning him with a glare that would’ve made lesser beings tremble. the kid just shrugged, popping another crayon into his mouth like this was all part of his five-year master plan.

later, after you’d left, still giggling and promising to "treasure" the drawing, toji leaned over the kitchen table where megumi was innocently snacking on his candy.

'kid," toji said, his voice low and dangerous, "if you ever pull something like that again, i’ll eat your crayons. one by one. and i'll make you watch."

megumi didn’t even flinch, cool as a cucumber, "good luck. i hid all the good ones."

take #4 — take your broke ass home!

the neighborhood festival was the kind of event that came together with duct tape and misplaced enthusiasm. a few janky game booths, a cotton candy machine that looked like it ran on prayers, and a ferris wheel that creaked like it was auditioning for a horror movie. but toji didn’t mind. he had a plan.

this was going to be his moment.

he invited you under the pretense of "fun time" for megumi, but really, it was to show you what a catch he was. buff, capable, ruggedly charming — he was ready to prove it all. what better way than with a little festival bravado? he’d win you a giant stuffed panda or one of those oversized bears that could double as a couch. easy.

you and megumi stood by a booth plastered with painted bullseyes, rows of rubber balls stacked neatly on the counter. toji rolled up his sleeves, flexing his arms just enough to catch your attention. he reached into his pocket, pulling out a wad of crumpled cash like he was buying the entire festival, "watch this."

from beside him, megumi crossed his arms. his eyes squinted with the kind of judgment only an six-year-old could muster. then, like a sniper, he fired off the line that would ruin toji's day.

"careful, dad," megumi said, voice loud enough to turn a few heads. "that’s our grocery money for the week."

toji froze mid-reach for the first ball and his jaw clenched. slowly, painfully, he turned to face megumi, who was standing there with a look of angelic smugness.

"megumi," toji growled through gritted teeth, "let's remember who brought you here."

megumi didn’t miss a beat, "oh, right. i'm just worried that dinner tomorrow is soy sauce soup."

"kid’s got jokes," toji muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, his cocky energy now entirely replaced by something closer to "please make this stop."

"oh, i don’t think he’s joking," you teased, tears forming at the corners of your eyes from laughing too hard.

"yeah, definitely not joking," megumi deadpanned, "dad’s gonna start eating protein powder straight from the jar."

"megumi," toji barked, praying for divine intervention that would include his son being carried off by a stork, "you’re grounded."

"for what? telling the truth?"

before toji could escalate into full-on dad-mode, the game attendant — clearly desperate to avoid whatever domestic drama was brewing, handed toji a stuffed panda.

"here, sir, on the house," he said with a strained smile, like he was hoping toji wouldn’t throw a ball through the booth.

toji grabbed the panda and shoved it into your hands with all the grace of a man trying to save face, "here. told you i'd win ya something."

you had just hugged the panda, still grinning ear to ear, "who knew you had a sweet spot? i'll cherish it forever, especially after hearing how hard you worked for it."

megumi, the little bastard, had already wandered off to scope out the cotton candy stand.

toji watched him go, then glanced at you, feeling oddly resigned, "i’m never bringing him to one of these again."

"oh, come on," you said, nudging him playfully, "i'm glad we came. this was fun. besides, he's a sweet kid."

he wondered if you were half-blind, but held his tongue. instead toji groaned, rubbing his temples, 'kid’s not eating for a week."

take #5 — brought the heat back!

it was a quiet thursday evening, the kind of night that lured people into thinking life wasn’t a complete dumpster fire. the sky was fading into a smug sort of pink, and a light breeze was making it just nice enough to forget toji's apartment was a little too warm because he’d cheaped out on air conditioning.

you’d accepted his invitation for dinner, and now here he was, a grown man trying to pretend he wasn’t about to impress the hell out of you with his cooking.

see, toji wasn’t just some dude who could barely boil water. nah, this man knew his way around the kitchen — specifically around a bowl of spicy curry that could win hearts. but he couldn’t let you know that.

toji liked to think that he had a reputation to uphold: rough around the edges, dangerously hot, and way too casual about everything.

so when you walked in, he scratched the back of his head like he’d just thrown the recipe together from a vague memory, muttering, "i dunno, figured i'd try somethin’ new. if it’s bad, there’s takeout."

except this wasn’t new. toji knew exactly what he was doing. his curry was legendary in very specific circles — namely, his own ego.

meanwhile, megumi was hanging around the kitchen like a suspicious little gargoyle, all quiet and sneaky-eyed. that should’ve been the first warning sign.

and when dinner was served, toji had to admit it, it looked perfect. rich, golden curry with just the right balance of spice, heat curling off the plates like a victory lap. hah, an easy win.

you had taken a polite bite, smiling at first. until your face suddenly froze like you'd just been slapped by a fire demon.

"what, it's too spicy?" toji asked, as he watched you struggle to smile. your lips twitching like they were trying to run away.

"no, no!" you wheezed, "it's — it's really good. just got a lil' kick to it, that's all!"

kick? toji blinked. you looked as though you had been delivering a roundhouse to the face.

suspicious now, he scooped up a big bite himself. the moment it hit his tongue, he nearly choked. his sinuses exploded, his tongue went numb, and he could feel sweat instantly forming on his brow.

"what the fuck," he sputtered, slamming down his fork and lunging for his water. toji guzzled it like a man who’d just escaped a desert, while you valiantly kept nibbling as though your dignity depended on it.

megumi, sitting way too calmly at the table, didn’t even flinch. he was eating like the curry was perfectly fine, which made it even worse. this little freak.

toji squinted at his only child, "megumi. what did you do?"

"nothing," the kid said, wide-eyed and dripping with fake innocence. too fake, tsk, toji knew that look. "just...helped with the seasoning."

toji’s stomach dropped, as his blood pressure rose, "how much seasoning?"

megumi shrugged, stabbing at his rice like he wasn’t actively committing a felony, "i dunno. a lot. jus' wanted to be helpful, dad."

"y'trying to kill me? her? yourself?!"

you laughed nervously through the pain, "ah, toji. it’s really not that bad —"

"don’t lie, doll" toji snapped, shooting you a look, "sweatin' like you ran a marathon."

"so are you!" you shot back, snickering. and you weren’t wrong. toji's forehead looked like he’d just finished a full-body workout.

megumi leaned back in his chair, chewing slowly, and said with an infuriating amount of smugness, "i like spicy food."

toji pointed at him, wondering if it would be easier to pick up the kid and launch him out the window, "you better start liking ramen, ‘cause that’s all you’re eating for the next week."

"fine with that," megumi said, clearly unbothered, "isn't that what i eat all the time anyway?”

toji groaned, dragging a hand through his messy hair, which now stuck to his forehead in sweaty, choppy strands.hHe turned to you, desperate for some kind of redemption. "this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. it’s normally amazing. i swear."

"it’s fine," you laughed, even as you sipped water like your life depended on it. "honestly, i think it’s kinda cute."

that threw him for a loop. "cute? what’s cute about this? i just served you a bowl of liquid hell."

you grinned, a little too amused for his liking. "it’s the effort."

toji, for once in his life, had no comeback. he just sighed, defeated, and grabbed his phone to order takeout. megumi, meanwhile, looked entirely too pleased with himself, even lifting the bowl to his lips to smack away the remnants of the soup that he slurped.

interlude: the peace talks

you’re standing outside toji's dingy apartment building, where even the cracks in the walls look like they’ve seen some things. you’re not entirely sure why you’re here. okay, that’s a lie. you’re absolutely sure— it’s because of him. that rough-edged, broad-shouldered man who can bench press your common sense into oblivion. but of course, you’re telling yourself it’s "just to check in."

totally innocent.

you knock. a few beats of silence, then the door creaks open just wide enough for a face to peek out. it's megumi fushiguro, toji's odd kid, and his expression already screams ugh. the kind of look that says, "what does this clown want?"

"uh, hi," you say, suddenly unsure if you’re allowed to be nervous around a first grader, "is toji here?"

megumi stares at you like you just asked if the sky was plaid, "nope," he says flatly, but doesn’t move. he keeps the door partially open, like he’s either waiting for you to leave or deciding if you’re even worth his time.

"oh. okay, that's fine, i'll just —" you motion vaguely toward the stairs, already regretting this whole situation. but then the kid speaks up.

"why do you wanna see him?" his tone is casual, but his eyes? sharp like sea-glass. too sharp for someone so young. he’s leaning on the doorframe now.

you blink, mind going blank.

"i don’t...i mean, i was just dropping by to say hi. that’s all."

megumi tilts his head, scrutinising you like you’re a suspect in a crime only he knows about, "do you like my dad?"

you choke on what must be your last breath on this earth, "what?! no! i mean, what are you even saying, he's..."

you’re spiralling, and megumi's smug little smirk says he knows it. He’s enjoying this way too much.

"sure," he says with a shrug, stepping back into the apartment. he leaves the door wide open like it’s an invitation — or maybe a saw trap. against your better judgment, you follow him in.

megumi plops down on the couch, picking up a laptop like you’re not even there, "you’re not the first," he mutters without looking up.

"what’s that supposed to mean?" you ask, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

he shrugs again, still not meeting your gaze, "just saying, dad’s got... fans." he says it with the kind of disdain only a kid can muster when talking about their parent, "but you’re, like... different."

"different how?" you ask, instantly regretting it. you shouldn’t engage. this is toji's kid, not your personal gossip columnist.

megumi finally looks up, one eyebrow raised, "you don’t seem as dumb as the other ones."

wow. compliment of the century. "that's way harsh. but thanks," you say dryly, crossing your arms. "and here i thought we were bonding."

there’s a flicker of something else in the child's eyes. a glimmer of protectiveness, maybe, "look, i'm just saying...don’t get your hopes up, okay? i don't think my dad's that type of guy."

you frown, perplexed at having this conversation with a child who barely comes up past your waist, "what makes you say that?"

megumi looks like he’s about to launch into a powerpoint presentation on why toji fushiguro Is a walking red flag, but then he stops. his petulant expression shifts, softens, just a little, "i don't anyone to be sad."

and there it is. the kid act drops for a split second, and you see it. he’s not just being a little punk — he's protecting himself. maybe he’s seen toji screw up one too many times, or maybe he’s tired of people coming and going from their lives. either way, you feel a pang of sympathy.

you sit down on the edge of the couch, careful not to invade his space, "i get it,” you say gently, "and i appreciate you looking out for me, and for your father. but...maybe your dad’s not as bad as you think."

megumi snorts, "yeah, right. i think he's a mess."

"well, sometimes messy people need someone to believe in them," you say, surprising even yourself with the honesty in your voice.

he doesn’t respond right away, just stares at the laptop screen like it holds the answers to life. finally, he sighs, closing it with a decisive snap.

"fine. you can...hang out with him. or whatever. i won't pull any dumb shit,” megumi suddenly pauses at the slip of his tongue, “wait, don't tell him i said that word. but if this screws up, i'm saying ‘I told you so."

he sounds like he’s just agreed to let you borrow his favourite video game.

you smile, relieved, "deal."

just then, the front door opens, and in walks toji, all feathery raven hair, sweat-slicked muscles, and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder like he’s just conquered a small country. he pauses when he sees you, eyebrows raising in surprise. "hey, didn’t expect to see you here," he says, voice rough but warm.

before you can respond, megumi pipes up from the couch, "we had important business."

megumi watches you leave, your footsteps echoing down the hallway. you turn back once, smiling at toji like he’s just said something funny — or maybe like he’s not completely hopeless. his dad stands in the doorway, looking uncharacteristically relaxed, a satisfied smirk on his face that makes megumi's stomach churn.

how disgusting.

the second the door clicks shut, toji sighs like some kind of romantic hero from the bad drama his dad loves to secretly watch, running a hand through his choppy black hair and scratching at the back of his neck.

"isn't she cute?" coming from a guy who once tried to flirt with a waitress by asking her how many push-ups she thought he could do.

toji disappears into his room, leaving young, burdened megumi stranded on the couch with his thoughts. his dad — the six-foot-four slab of muscle and bad decisions who calls protein shakes "wizard juice" — is clearly falling for you. and honestly? megumi doesn’t hate the idea. you’re nice. you don’t talk down to him like other adults, and you don’t smell like motor oil and regret like toji's usual crowd.

but toji? his dad couldn’t woo a cactus. if this is going to happen, megumi's going to have to step in. it's the responsible thing to do.

he grabs his laptop again, boots it up, and clicks on the email icon with all the gravitas of a general preparing for war.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: hey gojo i need help message: hey gojo i need help.

he hits send, satisfied. within ten minutes, there’s a reply. gojo's always on his computer nowadays, swamped by senior finals.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: hey gojo i need help message: why are u emailing me. i feel weird emailing a six year old.

megumi rolls his eyes. he’s six, not stupid. he definitely thinks he's smarter than gojo satoru.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: i think my dad has a crush.

there’s a pause. megumi imagines goji sitting in his weirdly pristine apartment downstairs, wearing those stupid sunglasses he insists are cool, trying to process what he just read.

the reply comes in two words.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: come downstairs.

then another one.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: let’s debrief. i got cookies.

megumi shuts his laptop, slides off the couch, and heads for the door. it's time someone with real intelligence got involved.

megumi fushiguro sits at the kitchen table, eating rainbow cereal and trying to ignore the way his dad is pacing the room like a stressed-out gorilla. toji fushiguro, a walking, grunting tank of a man, is mumbling under his breath about "women" and "bad timing" and something about his shirt being "too tight." not that his dad has any normal shirts — just those stupid gym shirts.

megumi, as the only person in this house with half a brain cell, knows exactly what’s going on. his dad's got it bad for you.

not that he thinks that his dad would admit it. no, his dad's strategy for dealing with his obvious feelings is to act like a complete idiot whenever you’re around. last time, he dropped a dumbbell on himself while trying to show off. the time before that, he laughed so hard at one of your jokes he spat coffee everywhere. megumi had to clean it up.

so yeah, his dad was hopeless, and apparently, it’s megumi's job to fix it.

but megumi doesn’t think of himself as a matchmaker. he thinks of himself as a tortured genius, forced to live among lesser idiots. and frankly, he doesn’t even like the idea of his dad dating. because that's gross.

but the truth is, megumi's tired of toji stomping around the apartment like a lovesick rhino, and if getting you and his dad together means toji might finally stop asking megumi if his hair looks "cool," then so be it.

he starts small. when you knock on the door that afternoon, megumi answers and blocks the entrance like a bouncer, just like gojo told him to.

"oh, dad's not here again," he says, casual.

your face falls, and megumi immediately clocks it. bingo.

"you're in luck today, lady. wait here," he interrupts, darting inside, "i'll grab him."

except his dad is in there, muttering something about a broken pipe in the kitchen, while tapping furiously on his phone. megumi marches in, hands on his hips.

"i let her in," he announces, like a town crier.

his dad looks up, like a deer caught in the headlights of his own stupidity, "what? why didn’t you tell me? damn punk," he scrambles for a shirt.

"i'm telling you now, dad," megumi says, dully, "also, you’re acting like a weirdo. just go talk to her. ask her out."

toji freezes, halfway into his shirt, "what's gotten into you, kid? gonna drop a knife on me, huh? what am i supposed to say?"

megumi resists the urge to roll his eyes so hard they fall out of his head, "i don't know. say hi to her. maybe don't mention the gym."

his dad frowns, "you're six, punk. what do you know? people like hearing about that shit."

"not normal people."

once toji is finally presentable — or as presentable as a man with permanent bedhead and a scar on his lip can be — megumi ushers him out of the room. then, like the misunderstood mastermind he is, megumi follows quietly, lurking behind the door to eavesdrop.

toji opens the door to find you standing there, fiddling with the strap of your bag. his usual dumb smirk creeps onto his face, "hey, didn’t expect to see you here," he says, leaning on the doorframe like he thinks he’s starring in a cologne commercial.

"yeah, i was just...in the neighborhood," you say, sounding way too nervous for someone who claims this is a casual visit.

megumi winces. they’re hopeless. this is your neighbourhood, too.

toji scratches the back of his neck, a nervous tick Megumi’s only seen when he’s trying not to embarrass himself, "well, uh, you wanna come in? i was just... doing some cleaning. we can...talk, or some shit like that."

megumi knows for a fact that there's a lie in toji's words. the only cleaning his dad's ever done is shoving everything into the closet and calling it "organised."

but somehow, it works. you step inside, smiling at him like he just offered you free ice cream. now, that would be a decent offer.

from his spot behind the door, megumi mentally pats himself on the back. phase one: complete. he decides to clock out, flopping back on his rumpled bed to pull his laptop back out, immediately logging back onto his game.

but by the time you leave an hour later, toji looks like he just won the lottery. you’re smiling too, waving awkwardly before heading down the stairs. and ugh, gross! you lean in and press a soft kiss to toji's cheek before you turn.

as soon as the door shuts, toji leans against it and lets out the most ridiculous sigh megumi has ever heard.

"hah, kid. she likes me," his dad says, grinning like a lovesick idiot.

megumi, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, crosses his arms, "that's foul. but no thanks to you."

his dad opens one sharp green eye at him, and scowls. "what’s that supposed to mean?"

"it means," megumi says, feeling a lifetime of bribery for ice-cream excite him, "you owe me. big time."

toji’s standing in the doorway, looking at megumi like he just asked him to join some cult. he scratches the back of his head, giving megumi that look — like he’s trying to figure out what the hell his kid is up to now.

"eh, you look weird today," toji mutters, a half-smirk tugging at his lips. he reaches down and ruffles megumi’s hair like it’s no big deal, making it stick up even more. his hair gets all spiky and untamable, and megumi scowls, smoothing it down, trying (and failing) to get his dark spikes to behave.

"yeah, whatever, dad," megumi mutters under his breath as toji turns and saunters off into his room. toji’s probably about to do a hundred push-ups and gloat to himself. megumi can already hear the dumb grunting from the other room.

as soon as toji’s gone, megumi sits back down at the table, shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

for once, the apartment is quiet. no random phone calls, no weird people showing up, no random training sessions that sound more like a one-man wrecking crew than “exercise.” just peace.

it’s bliss.

he takes another bite of cereal, enjoying the calm and the fact that someone else is going to have to deal with toji’s nonsense for once. it’s about time.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: mission accomplished message: it worked. my dad's in love.

a few seconds later, gojo’s reply pops up.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: mission accomplished message: that's great! wanna help me with the guy i like?

megumi squints at the screen, blinking twice. he closes his laptop with all the gravity of someone who has just solved world peace.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: re: re: mission accomplished message: no.

[benevolentbones]

Haiii idk how to word this but basically season 10 spencer reid seeing reader in a backless dress nd hes all flustered but also really attracted to her ? idk if i worded this right sorryy

green dress | spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: mention of scar, uncomfortable body image! fem reader

word count: 1.5k

a/n: thank you for your request!! i hope you enjoy this<3 requests still open, im getting through them! reblogs n comments always appreciated <3

you’ve always been insecure about how you looked in dresses, especially backless ones.

a year or so ago when you were out on the field, an unsub had managed to corner you and stabbed you in the back resulting in a scar a few inches long that rested between your shoulder blades.

even before the incident you weren’t keen on showing off much skin, but now the scar made you even more self-conscious.

you often found yourself shying away from outfits that revealed too much, particularly those that might expose the mark left behind from that encounter.

the fear of judgment and the constant reminder of that day made it difficult for you to feel confident in anything but the most modest clothing, so when you went out dress shopping, and penelope pulled out a backless dress she could immediately sense your discomfort.

you were out with penelope and emily, using your very rare day off to go dress shopping for agent rossi’s annual ball he liked to host in his mansion.

a frown graced your features as penelope held up a simple dark green satin dress with a plunged neckline and, of course, it was backless.

emily noticed your frown, turning around in one of the many dresses she had tried on in the last hour. this one was by far the nicest, it hugged her nicely and the shade of red complimented her striking features.

“c’mon y/n, you’ll look so good.” emily hummed, smoothing down the dress on her form as she looked in the mirror.

“i- i don’t know guys- you know that’s not really my style.”

“oh but it could be- just try it on please!” penelope practically begged, shoving the soft fabric into your arms. despite your dislike for showing off your body, you knew this would make the girls happy so you obliged, stepping into the changing room and drawing the curtain closed.

penelope and emily waited anxiously for your return, still adorned in the dresses they were also trying on. penelope opted for a bright pink number, with many layers of tulle, very much her style.

you slid the curtain back, taking a step out and shuffling awkwardly towards the mirror where the girls sat. their expressions ranged from shock to excitement, penelope had a huge grin on her red stained lips.

“you look perfect!” she squealed out, adjusting her thick framed glasses to get a better look at you.

emily nodded in agreement, her dark eyes scanning how the dress hugged your form. “wow..you’ll be the prettiest at the party.” she chuckled.

you stood in front of the mirrors, turning slightly so you could get a look at how the dress sat on you. you had to admit, it suited your figure well, accentuating your curves. you turned to see the back of the dress, it cut rather low, stopping just before the small of your back.

your eyes flickered up to the scar on your back, you instinctively rolled your shoulder blades back. “i- i don’t know…” you mumbled out under your breath.

penelope shook her head. “you look amazing- you have to get it.”

still uncertain you sighed, “i feel so exposed- im not used to this.”

emily glanced towards penelope, a smirk turning up on her lips before she spoke. “that’s spencer’s favourite colour you know..” she muttered out half casually.

instantly you could feel a rush of warmth spread to your cheeks, the thought of spencer seeing you at the party in a dress like this made you nervous. you shot emily a fake glare which she returned with a knowing smile.

“so….yes to the dress?” penelope quizzed, eyes wide as she waited for your answer. you paused for a moment, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“fine..”

~

it was the night of the party. guests were arriving, music was blaring, derek and spencer were standing near the punch bowl.

as you walked in, you could feel the buzz of excitement in the air. the soft fabric of the dress clung to your skin, making you more aware of every movement you made. emily and penelope flanked you, their presence giving you a bit of courage.

you scanned the room, heart pounding, until your eyes landed on spencer. he was deep in conversation with derek, but as if sensing your gaze, he turned. his eyes widened slightly when he saw you, and a small, appreciative smile played on his lips.

spencer’s figure adorned a deep green suit, complimented with a black shirt and tie, the colour a few shades darker than the dress you were wearing. your eyes flickered away, as you whispered to penelope.

“did you know-“ she cut you off with a small smirk. a breath escaped your lips as you drew closer to the two men, emily and penelope not leaving your sides incase you decided to make a dash for it.

“wow you ladies look incredible.” morgan whistled lowly, penelope and emily as if on que, abandoned your side, linking arms with derek. “i’ll see you later lover boy.” morgan shot back to spencer as he lead the two women away from you.

spencer’s eyebrows furrowed at morgan’s comment, his gaze quickly fixing back on you.

spencer's eyes widened as they fell on you. his jaw dropped slightly, and a rosy hue crept up his neck to his cheeks. he fumbled for words, clearly flustered.

"y-you look... amazing," he finally managed to stammer out, his voice barely above a whisper.

you felt your own cheeks warm at his reaction, your heart fluttering. you took a step closer, your eyes meeting his, and you could see the genuine awe in his gaze.

"thank you, spencer" you replied softly, a shy smile playing on your lips. despite feeling so out of place and out of your comfort zone in the dress, the way spencer looked at you made you feel…confident.

he cleared his throat, trying to regain some composure. "i mean, —you always look nice, but tonight... you look... stunning."

the sincerity in his voice made your heart skip a beat. spencer, usually so composed and articulate, was completely gobsmacked, and it was all because of you.

his gaze shifted to the dress again, now noticing the low cut, how it showed off your back and the scar between your shoulder blades. he felt a surge of warmth rush to his cheeks, his breath practically getting caught in his throat.

"i, uh," he started, his eyes still locked on you, "i didn't expect... i mean, wow." he let out a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, soft brown locks falling over his face.

"it's just a dress…” you said, though you felt a thrill at his reaction.

"no," he shook his head, his gaze unwavering, "it's not just the dress. it's you. you're... breathtaking— you’ve always been breathtaking.”

his words left you momentarily speechless, the intensity of his gaze making you feel both exhilarated and shy. you took another bold step closer, your hands lightly brushing against his.

"spencer, i.." you began, but the words failed you. instead, you let your eyes speak for you, hoping he could see the effect he had on you.

he took a deep breath, his fingers trembling as they curled around yours. “—you’re- god.. you’ve always been so beautiful- and i should’ve said something earlier— told you sooner..”

your eyes widened as he spoke, the taller man taking a step closer to you, his hand resting at your waist, his fingers brushing against the exposed skin on the backless dress. your breath hitched slightly at his warm grasp.

“i— fuck.” he mumbled out, for once in his life spencer found himself unable to formulate a sentence, to describe how he felt about you. he had longed for you, for months, years even..and now he had the chance to just tell you.

your eyes flickered over his facial expression, the pale pink hue deepened as he brought his gaze back to meet yours. his dark eyes traveled down to your lips once more.

he wanted nothing more than to just kiss you right now, the way the light made your skin glow, how the dress wrapped around your body- the low cut back, it was all too much for him.

spencer leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tentative kiss. it was gentle at first, filled with the unspoken feelings you both had kept hidden for so long.

as the kiss deepened, you felt a surge of warmth and happiness, a feeling of rightness settling over you. his hands moved to your hips, pulling you closer, and you responded by wrapping your arms around his neck, losing yourself in the moment.

taglist!! @0108s22m @rainoftearss @potatovoyager @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @luvmia222 @shardsofmarxx @silver138 @lover-of-books-and-tea @thedancingnerdmermaid @khxna

[starkeyisthelastname]

pornstar!rafe who is a well known in the industry for being cocky, dirty as fuck and ruthless to any girl he shot a scene with. 👅

You were nervous, to say the least, as you sat in the chair, getting your makeup done for the scene you were shooting today. Being fairly new to the porn industry, getting booked to do a scene with one of the most popular male stars was a huge breakthrough for you. Your agent had told you not to watch any scenes with him, as she wanted everything with Rafe to be raw. You had heard rumors though that he was a big deal to work with, and was known for being ruthless to the girls he shot with.

You heard his voice, making your head turn from its spot as you saw him for the first time. He was tall, his frame massive as he towered over the director as they spoke. His side profile was beautiful with his head full of messy dirty blonde hair, a nose that looked like it would hit your clit perfectly, and a smile that made your heart race. Even in casual clothes, he looked amazing and the fact this man was going to rail you today had your nerves even higher than they were to begin with.

It was when his blue eyes met yours, wearing a smirk on his handsome face, did you quickly turn your head back to focus on the makeup artist that was starting to apply the glittery gloss to your pretty lips. You definitely were embarrassed you got caught staring at the Rafe Cameron, and hoped to god he didn’t say anything.

“Why you gettin shy for, huh?” His question, startling you as he now stood behind you. You looked up to see him in the reflection of the mirror, same cocky smirk plastered across his face. Something about his presence was extremely intimidating, but in a way where you felt your pussy throbbing. You weren’t sure if it was his striking blue eyes, his impressive height or the thick mustache above his upper lip, but you knew he was going to fuck your soul out.

The low chuckle from him, made you snap out of your thoughts as he gave the makeup artist a small smile before stepping closer. He leaned his head down, the feeling of his mustache now against your ear. “You wanna play shy? That’s fine. Just don’t think I’m gonna take it easy on your gorgeous little self. You have no idea who you are about to get fucked by.”

been thinking about this for a while 💖 but giving a thank you to @24kmar for saying this era of drew looks like a pornstar and my bae @starkeysprincess for her mood board she posted 😜 decided i had to give you guys this version of rafe.

[sonarspace]

KNOCKOUT KISS, SUGURU GETO

CONTENT: friends to lovers. (boxer!suguru x reader). slight violence. nsfw! (not proofread) WC: 6K A/N: back after a long break! hope you guys like this <3

☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸

suguru sits on the bench in his locker room after his boxing match. his face covered in cuts and bruises and his body batttered. despite that, a delirious smile takes place on his face as you approach him with antiseptic swabs and bandages.

his smile is so bright that for a moment, you forget he's covered in blood. "looks worse than it is darling," he rasps, his voice hoarse from exhuastion.

you stand in front of him, carefully tending to his wounds. "you're going to be the death of me, suguru," you mutter, gently dabbing a cut near his lip. he presses his lips against your finger teasingly, earning a glare from you.

"you worry too much," he chuckles. "you've got the money, i don't get why you're still doing this," you retort with a huff.

"adrenaline baby. no high compares to the one i get after winning. hearing the crowd cheer for me. hearing you cheer for me," he smiles his hand rubbing mindless patterns on your waist, his touch warm against your skin.

your eyes lock with his. you gulp, feeling the weight of his stare. you take a step back, your gaze shifts to the wound you've patched. "all done," your voice is slightly unsteady — courtesy of suguru geto's stare.

"thanks, sweet thing," suguru says softly. "let's grab a few drinks and play some pool" he suggests. you could never understand how he could easily bounce back after a fight like the one he just had, acting so casual. sensing your worry, he adds. "i'm fine, i swear".

"i have a date," you reply, your lips pressed into a thin line.

"great. another guy i have to compete with for your attention," he grins, his tone playful yet tinged with jealousy.

"his name is mark. he recently signed a deal with dad. dad said to give it a shot, said it could be good for the company." you sling your purse over your shoulder.

"so a douche bag?" he teases.

"suguru! he's actually sweet. don't be mean," you defend your date. he huffs, rolling his eyes. "when's your next match?" you ask, trying to change the topic.

"next month," he says, eyeing you intensely. "then i'll see you next month," you reply with a warm smile. he lets out a dramatic sigh and stands, his tall frame looming over you. "stay safe," he murmurs, his voice laced with concern and affection.

"don't drink too much. and don't let him push you into doing anything you're not comfortable with," he warns.

"are you done, dad?" you tease, but suguru's expression stays serious. he gently tucks a strand of hair behind your hair and cups your cheek. "just lookin' out for you," he says softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"see you champ," you say with a smile moving toward the door. suguru nods in return. you step out of the room and take a deep breath.

a month later

the roar of the crowd fills the arena as suguru steps into the ring. he waves at the crowd and then his eyes land on you. you're wearing a sleek black bodycon dress that hugs your curves jut right. his smile fades into a scowl as he notices the man beside you. he quickly masks it, turning his attention back to his opponent.

they touch gloves and return to their respective corners. the bell rings, silencing the crowd. suguru's focus narrows down to the man standing in front of him. whispered conversations flow through the crowd as they wait for the first punch to land.

suguru's gloved hand raises and connects with his opponent's jaw., and the crowd erupts into a chant of his name. but only one voice—yours, matters to him. "YES SUGURU! LET'S GO!!" you cheer.

mark beside you is taken aback by the fervor of your cheer. he claps politely. your squeeze your boyfriend's arm, your gaze fixed on your best friend in the ring.

it's the final round. the decider of the match. suguru is worn out, breathing heavily, his shoulders slumped and his lip cut once again. he sits in his corner taking deep, ragged breaths. his eyes find you again, watching as you whisper something to mark and share a laugh. it's a punch to the gut, more painful than any of the hits he's taken tonight.

the bell rings and both fighters raise their gloves. suguru's attention shifts from his opponent to you. he sees your boyfriend's hands wrapped around your waist. your back pressed to his chest as you cheer, mark's lips pressing a kiss on your shoulder.

POW!

suguru's body jolts back as his face turns from the force of the jab. his ear rings and his vision blurs momentarily. the arena falls into a hushded silence. "suguru!" you shout, reaching out instinctively as if your hand could somehow bridge the distance and stop the blow.

"mark, wait. let me go," your voice quivers with desperation as suguru's figure wavers before you. mark's grip tightens, holding you firmly against him. "where would you go?" he taunts, the amusent in his voice deepening your frustration.

the metallic taste of blood fills suguru's mouth. he spits it out, straightens up and touches his jaw, trying to refocus. his gaze drifts between you and his opponent. he notices your anxious expression and the way you're straining against mark's grasp.

mark's hold on you slackens, allowing you to step away. but before you can react, he grabs your chin and pulls you into an unexpected kiss. your eyes dart between you're boyfriend and suguru, who narrows his gaze and then delivers a hard blow, knocking out his opponent.

as suguru's eyes meet yours, he smiles through blood stained lips. strands of his hair fall loose from his thight bun, framing his face. he raises his fist in victory and the crowd erupts in applause.

you pull back from the kiss, clapping and cheering his name along with the crowd. he stands there grinning, looking like an angel—a bloody and sweaty angel. your bloody, sweaty angel. the thought tugs at your heart with a bittersweet pang at the reminder of what could've been, but you quickly push it away.

your boyfriend squeezes your shoulders, "looks like he won after all, huh?" he says, half amused.

"he always does," you smile, proudly. "let's go to the bar. i'll ask him to come meet us over there."

you make your way to the bar, exctied to introduce suguru to the man you're quickly getting close to. you wait for twenty minutes and then text suguru. "hey. you coming? we're at the bar."

he sighs as he reads the message. his body aches, his head throbs, and perhaps his heart aches too. the win feels hollow without you there to patch him up like you usually do. he contemplates just leaving but he knows how much you were looking forward to this. the last thing he wants to do is let you down. "be there in five," he texts back.

he rises with a groan and pulls on a black fitted shirt and heads out of his locker room. he makes his way to the bar near the arena. it's packed with people. some of them smile and congratulate him on his win. he returns their smiles but it never reaches his eyes.

he spots you in the corner, your boyfriend’s arm around your shoulders as you chat animatedly. when you see suguru approaching, your eyes light up. with a loud cheer for him, you leap out of your seat and pull him in a tight hug.

suguru stifles a grimace as he tries to return the hug. his head nuzzles into your hair as he breathes in the comforting scent of your shampoo and a wave of calm washes over him.

you introduce the two men to each other. suguru takes a seat across you and mark. a teasing smile on his face as he leans back. "i was really looking forward to your usual post match check up in the locker room," he says with a playful glint in his eye. "did you skip it to make me miss you more?"

mark shifts in his seat, annoyed but keep his comments to himself. you laugh at suguru's playful comment, as the tension you felt earlier between the two of you melts.

as the conversation flows, you try to get mark to speak more but he doesn't comply. eventually you turn to suguru and ask "so, when's your next match?"

"next weekend," suguru sighs with a small smile. "you'll be there right?" he asks.

just as you're about to respond, mark interjects. "actually, we won't be able to make it. we've got dinner with my parents." he puts an arm around you pulling you closer. suguru's smile falters slightly and a flicker of annoyance passes over his face as he hears mark's use of, "we" and the sight of his arm around you.

"oh, i didn't know things were getting serious between the two of you," suguru says, his eyes meeting yours with a hint of hurt.

mark glances at his watch. "we should probably get going. it's getting late and i've got a meeting in the morning," he says to you.

you nod, standing up and smoothing down your dress that had ridden up slightly. suguru's eyes follows the movement but he quickly looks away, a light shade of pink coloring his cheeks.

suguru stands up as well and shakes mark's hand. you squeeze suguru's arm gently, giving him a warm smile. "go home and rest, okay?" you tell suguru.

suguru returns your smile, his eyes soften as he looks at you and nods.

mark places his hand on your waist as he guides you out of the bar and to his car in the parking lot. once you're in the car and on your way, he finally speaks up. "so, you and suguru, huh?" he asks glancing, over at you.

"what about me and suguru?" you ask, tilting your head.

"you looked pretty cozy back there with him," he says, his voice laced with jealousy.

you huff a chuckle. "mark. you know how long we've been friends for, i've told you this".

his irritation deepens, "didn't seem like just friends, back there. with all the flirting and touching. that's not what friends do."

you feel a surge of frustration at his implication of something more. you try to keep your voice steady as you speak "you're making this into a bigger deal than it is. i told you. we're just friends. have been for ages now. that's all."

he's silent for a moment before he speaks up again glancing at you sideways. "that dress," he says his tone dripping with disdain, "it's really something. almost like you're asking for everyone's attention."

the atmosphere in the car tenses. you don't respond instead you look outside the window.

"i don't like you hanging around him" he says. you look at him, taken aback. "what?"

"you heard me. i don't want you being around him, i don't like how he flirts with you and you let him."

"mark. it's not like that," you try to explain. but he cuts you off.

"it doesn't matter what it's like. i'm telling you i don't want you to hang out around him. i know you've been friends for a long time but things change. this isn't just about him- it's about us. you're dating me now."

you feel a wave of frustration and all of a sdduen the thought of being in relationship with someone like him has you feeling nauseous.

"stop the car," you say, your voice cutting through the tension.

mark glances at you, his brow furrowing in confusion. "what? why?"

"just stop the car," you insist.

you step out of the car and mark follows you out. "where the hell are you going?" he demands. he grabs your wrist pulling you between him and against the car. "you think you can just ignore my feelings and walk away? that's not how this works." his voice rises, his eyes flashing anger. "i won’t let you disrespect me like this."

he presses himself further against you, the cold metal pressing to your back felt harsh. "mark," you tried to sound commanding, but your voice trembled with fear.

his hands move to your hips to keep you from moving. his hands move over your body uninvitingly. his touch felt like fire on your body. "you want to be a whore? is that it? want guys to look at you, drool over you. well here i am," he gives you a smile so twisted, it makes your stomach churn.

just as his hand reaches out to touch your face, you act on instinct. with a swift move, you bring your knee up and slam into his groin. the sudden pain is enough to make him double over and a guttural cry escapes his lips as he falls to the ground.

without looking back, you sprint off leaving your heels behind. your heart pounds in your ears. you hear mark's furious shouts echo behind you, "you fucking bitch!" you keep running until the familiar lights of the bar you had just left come into view.

you burst into the bar, dazed and disheveled, breathing heavily. as you push through the crowd, every face blurs together, your only focus on finding the one that offers you comfort and safety.

he’s getting up from the table where you left him not even an hour ago. he pulls on his jacket, turning around as he spots you. his expression shifts from confusion to deep concern as he takes in your appearance. he calls out your name, reaching for you as you half-collapse into him.

"what happened?" he asks, his voice laced with worry as he wraps his arms around your frame keeping you upright.

“suguru... mark... he—he—” you struggle to speak through the tears. suguru’s face hardens with a fury. “i’m going to kill him,” he says, his voice sharp with anger.

"suguru. please, just get me out of here,” you beg, your voice trembling. "okay, okay." he says, his heart clenhing at the hurt and fear laced in your voice. you cling to him as he guides you out of the chaotic space and into his car.

once you’re settled into the passenger seat, suguru’s gaze falls to your feet. he notices the blood staining the undersides. “you’re bleeding,” he says, his voice tight with worry. he opens the glove box and grabs a bunch of tissues, gently wiping the blood from your feet.

“i’ll clean this up properly when we get to my place,” he says softly, his eyes filled with tender concern. he pulls out of the parking lot and onto the road. the car is silent except for the hum of the engine. he reaches over and places his hand gently over yours in your lap, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand. 

he pulls the car into his designated parking spot. as soon as you step out, you hiss in pain, your feet throbbing. suguru is by your side instantly. he scoops you into his arms, holding you close. his body heat seeps into you as you press your head into his chest. warm and reassuring.

he steps into his penthouse and gently carries you to the bathroom. with careful movements, he sets you down on the counter. he grabs the first aid kit from the cabinet and kneels before you. placing one of your feet on his lap and holding the other in his hand. his focus unwavering as he begins to clean and tend to your wounds.

once he's done, he places a tender kiss to your ankle. his lips soft against your skin. his eyes meet yours as he stands to his full height, towering over you sitting on the counter. "i'll grab you some clothes," he says stroking your cheek.

he helps you into his bed, pulling the sheets over your body. he starts to move away but you grab his wrist. “please, stay,” you whisper. his eyes soften as he nods. he slips under the sheets beside you. you move closer to him and he wraps his arms around you.

as you rest against him, you feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothing you. he breaks the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. “do you want to tell me what happened after you left?”

you recount the night’s events, your voice trembling. tears stream down your face but suguru's quick to wipe them away. "that asshole," he lets out a deep exhale as you finish up.

his arms tighten around you as he pulls you closer. "he'll never be able to hurt you again. i promise," he murmurs against your hair as his hand moves up and down over your back, soothingly.

you spend the week at suguru's penthouse, both of you falling into a comfortable routine. each morning, he heads to the gym to train for his fight before you wake, always leaving a soft kiss on your forehead. he makes sure to return by the time you’re up, so you can spend the rest of the day with you.

the day of the fight.

you weave through the backstage corridors, the noise of the crowd buzzing faintly in the background. you finally find suguru's locker room and knock softly. his coach opens the door, glancing back at suguru. he's seated in a silk robe with his name embroidered on the back, chatting with his team. "suguru, your girl’s here," the coach announces and your heart skips a beat at being called his girl. the coach steps aside to let you in.

suguru looks up. his face breaks into a warm smile and he asks everyone to excuse you both. "there she is," he smiles. he gets up and takes a step towards you, placing his hands on your waist. "you're dressed nice," he murmurs with affection. "looking goreous, darling."

“big day today,” you say with a lighthearted chuckle. “thought i’d dress up for the soon-to-be three-time champion.” suguru’s smile widens, and he chuckles, a blush rising to his cheeks. “it means the world to me that you’re here,” he says, his tone turning serious.

you smile in return. for a moment, both of you simply gaze into each other’s eyes. a knock on the door breaks the silence, followed by a voice calling out, “five minutes till you need to be in the ring, geto!”

he takes a step back, his hands falling away from your waist. "gotta go," his voice is quiet as he moves toward the door.

before he can take another step, you pull him close and press your lips to his. a rush of warmth spreads and floods through both of you. the world around you fades into a blur and time stands still as you feel the softness of his lips. his one hand wraps around your waist, pulling you in close while his other moves to the underside of your jaw, tilting your face upward so he can kiss you better.

before the kiss can turn into something more, he pulls back and rests his head against yours. "fuck," he breathes. "i have to go."

"i know," you squeeze his arm. "win for me." you smile, your eyes twinkling with mirth. "and maybe you'll get more than a championship belt tonight."

he chuckles, the sound low and warm, as he strokes your cheek. “i will,” he says, his voice carrying a promise. he presses a quick kiss to your lips, his thumb grazes your bottom lip before he reluctuanly pulls away and walks out.

after a couple of minutes, you follow him. you find a spot near the crowd, your eyes scanning the ring just as the fight begins. the energy in the arena is electric, every cheer and chant adding to the tension.

the match is intense, with both fighters exchanging heavy blows. suguru's focused, moving with a purpose. by the fourth round, it's over — he lands a hard punch that send his opponent down in the ring, knocked out cold. the crowd erupts in a chant of his name as he stands tall and the ref raises his hand in victory

his eyes meets yours. he points at you with a triumphant grin, pumping his fist. your heart races as a thrill runs through you, imagining what’s coming next. you can’t help but chuckle, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks.

he waves as he exits the ring, then disappears backstage. you chat with his team while suguru wraps up his post-match interviews. just as you’re about to head to his locker room, your phone buzzes with a text from him: “wait by my car. i’ll meet you there.”

a grin spreads across your face as you read the message, excitement fluttering in your chest. you lean against his car, heart racing as you eagerly await his arrival.

suguru walks over proudly holding up his third championship belt. "i told you i'd win!" he declares, his voice laced with victory.

you can't contain your excitement as you rush into his arms with a joyful squeal. he laughs heartily as he lifts you off your feet, holding you close. the weight of the belt presses between you. your laughter mingles with his as you both savor the moment.

he sets you down and quickly drops the belt into the car. then, cradling your face in his hands he leans in and presses a kiss to your lips. you melt into the kiss. his hands on your cheeks are warm and gentle. he pulls back slightly, a soft smile playing on his lips as he murmurs “my good luck charm,” against your lips, his voice full of affection and gratitude.

your heart swells with love, but the moment is abruptly interrupted by a distant sound. your smile fades as you see a stumbling figure makes it way towards you and suguru. a cold wave of dread washes over you as you recognize the slurred voice calling your name. "mark," you utter.

suguru's expression hardens as he takes in the sight of mark approaching. he steps in front of you protectively. mark scoffs taking in the sight of you and suguru together. “i knew it. i knew you couldn’t just be friends,” he sneers, his voice thick with bitterness.

you take a deep breath, trying to keep your composure. "suguru, please," you say trying to keep your voice steady. "let's just go," you squeeze his arm.

suguru's jaw tightens but he nods. just as you turn to walk away, mark's voice cuts through with degrading edge. "you're just a whore looking for attention from anyone who’ll give it. first it was me and now it's him, huh?"

your heart sinks at mark's cruel words. "suguru!" you go on to grip his hand but his patience snaps. without a second thought he turns around and punches mark. the force of it sends mark sprawling to the ground. a grunt of pain escapes his lips.

mark scrambles back to his feet and lunges at suguru. you watch in horror as they fight. the sound of their fists hitting flesh and bones crunching echoes around you and you're not sure whose it is.

suguru manages to pin mark to the ground. he lands a few more punches, mark's face becoming a bloody. “suguru!” you plead, your voice breaking as tears begin to fall down your face. “stop, let him go!”

suguru finally drops mark and wipes the blood from his hand onto mark's shirt before standing up. mark groans on the ground. suguru takes a few heavy breaths then turns to face you. his expression immediately softens.

he wraps his arms around you, guiding you to the car. you slip inside, still shaken from the encounter. suguru slides into the driver's seat next to you. his hand finds yours with a comforting squeeze.

you take deep breaths as the car starts moving. the drive is quiet as you arrive back at his place. you're both silent as you step into his penthouse. you notice blood seeping between his fingers and you gasp. suguru looks down at his hand and then at you "it's okay, i'm okay," he says.

you shake your head and guide him to the bathroom. gently, you clean his cut and wrap a bandage around his knuckles. suguru watches you with a quiet chuckle. “this feels just like old times,” he murmurs.

“you always playing nurse after my fights.” you glance up at him. “someone’s got to take care of you,” you reply, your tone filled with affection.

his smile deepens reaching his eyes. "i'm glad it's you," he says sincerely. he gently tucks a strand of behind your ear and caresses your cheek.

"i really want to kiss you," he says lowly, his voice filled with longing.

you nod and his lips are on you in an instant. your eyes flutter close and his bandaged hand slips out of your grasp and moves under your jaw tipping your head up for better access.

“i always want to kiss you,” he whispers against your lips, his thumb stroking your bottom lip. your heart flutters at his admission. boldly you part your lips and kiss him again. his tongue slips in your mouth and he groans at the taste of you.

your hands move to the hem of his shirt. "eager," he chuckles stopping your hands. he tuts at your pout. "don't pout." he pulls your bottom lip in between his letting it snap back against your teeth.

"just don't wanna rush and ruin this. don't want you to regret it." he speaks softly, his finger lightly caressing your jaw in a way that feels almost instinctive.

"i won't regret this," you say, your voice a mix of desperation and hope. "want this suguru. want it with you. want you. please?"

"jesus christ," he murmurs under his breath. his hands move to the back of your thighs, carrying you to his bed. he gently sets you down and moves atop you. he parts your legs and sits on his knees in between. with a smirk, he reaches behind his neck and pulls off his shirt in one smooth motion.

you've seen him shirtless countless times before, but seeing him like this—bathed in the soft light of the lamp, every dip and muscle accentuated—feels different. the sight of him, shirtless for you, leaves your throat dry.

"suguru," you say his name in awe.

"sweet girl," he replies softly. "going to make you feel so good, you'll never want anyone else."

his hands move over your shoulders, pulling the straps of your dress down. he tugs the dress further until it stops at your chest, causing you to laugh shyly. "there's a zip on the side," you murmur. he chuckles softly in return. you can feel the way his fingers tremble ever so slightly as he lowers, a stark contrast to his usual confident demeanor.

"you're nervous," you state, propping yourself on your elbows. he doesn’t respond, instead focusing on pulling the dress down until it rests at your hips. you lift your hips, allowing him to take it off completely.

his breath hitches as his eyes roam over your body, now only covered by a bra and panties. his hands linger on your hips for a moment, his touch gentle. he meets your eyes, a small, reassuring smile tugging at his lips. "you're my best friend," he whispers, his tone serious. "we can’t go back from this, you know?"

"i—" he takes a deep breath. "i can't go back to being just your friend after this," he says earnestly.

you reach up and cup his face, grounding him with your touch. "i don't want to go back to being just your friend either" you tell him, your voice steady and warm. "i want to go forward."

he looks at you with a mix of relief and determination, his smile widening as he takes in your words. leaning in, his forehead gently touches yours. “then let’s move forward,” he says softly, pressing his lips to yours. the kiss melts away all his doubts.

his hands shift from your hips to your back. he undoes your bra, he pulls it away from your chest and drops it on the ground beside the bed. he pulls back from the kiss, his smile spreading into a wide grin as he tips his head back and laughs joyfully. he lowers his head back and his eyes glisten with a need you've never seen. "can't believe you've hidden this from me," his hands cup your boobs.

his lips trail acseries of kisses across your. chest. when he reaches your nipple, he wrap his lips around it and sucks it eagerly. he lets out an appreciative moan as his tongue teases and circles around it. his hand explores your other boob, mimicking the movements of his mouth, pinching and rolling your nipple.

the sensation sends a wave of heat rushing betwen your legs making you gasp. your hips arch up, seeking fricition and contact to bring you closer to the relief you crave. he smirks, his mouth still on your nipple before he lets it go with a pop. his lips move lower, kissing your stomach and swirling his tongue around your belly button. he nips softly at your hip, leaving a mark just for him to see later.

he tugs the band of your panties back with his teeth, then lets it snap against your skin making you hiss from the sudden sting. he chuckles at your reaction. you glare at him "stop teasing!"

"okay darling," he grins. he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of your panties and slides them down over the smooth skin of your legs. his hands brush against the skin of your inner thighs, sending a shiver up your spine.

his lips follow the path of his hands. he bites and sucks the tender flesh of your inner thighs making you moan in pleasure, as your arousal intensifies. his nose nudges against your folds and you instinctively try to close your thigh but he keep them open with a firm grip.

he tuts softly, a teasing smile playing at his lips. “you’re being a bit greedy,” he murmurs, his voice low and hoarse with desire. “keepin all this sweet stuff for yourself”.

his tongue lolls out to taste you. he hums his eyes fluttering shut as he tastes you at last. he can't help himself but need more. his tongue presses further into you, exploring every fold and contour. he releases a deep moan, the sensation vibrating through your body prompting you to echo it into the room.

your fingers curl into his long hair, gripping the strands tightly as he plunges not one but two fingers into you. "she's so eager," he mumbles talking about your pussy. his lips wraps around your nub, sucking it enthusiastically.

your walls tighten around his fingers making his brain short circuits with thoughts of how you would feel around him. he pulls away trailing kisses up your body. when he reaches your lips, he murmurs, "sorry, pretty. i need to be inside you."

you whimper as he pulls out his fingers and gripping your chin, smearing your arousal on it. he leans in and hums as he licks if off before kissing you. his tongue entwines with yours, letting you taste yourself.

you arch up into him craving more. desperate to feel him just as much he does. he fumbles with the button of his pants, anticpation coursing through him making his hands tremble. your hands move to his hips, helping him out. he sits back on his heels as he gets rid of both his pants and boxers.

"fuck," you breathe looking at his length. he chuckles, his ego visibly stroked. "i'll go easy, don't worry". a deep blush spreads across his cheeks as he notices your unwavering gaze. he begins to stroke himself. his cock is a vibrant shade of crimson which thick veins running along the length, pulsing with each stroke — the head a darker hue, slightly glistenig with pre cum. he swipes his thumb across it and then brings it up to your lips.

"want a taste?" he asks with a teasing smile. you nod eagerly and he pushes it between your lips, making your eyes roll back. "as much as i'd love to feel your mouth on me" he says positioning himself between your thighs, "i think i'd lose my mind if i don't fuck you right now".

the tip of his cock nudges against your wet folds, brushing against your entrance. his eyes lock onto yours as he presses forward, easing into you. the fullness makes you gasp and your hand comes up to grip his arm as he stretches you open. he pauses, letting you adjust. his breathing heavy and uneven as he holds himself still above you.

“god, you’re so tight,” he growls. your walls cling to him as he starts to move but stops. "baby, breathe for me," he murmurs, his voice rough with need. "i can't move." you let out a giggle at his words and unknowingly clench around him making him gasp. his head falls onto your chest. "fuck, dont do that," he groans.

"you can go harder," you whine. he grins as he pulls out and drives back in. the force of his thrust makes you shudder with pleasure. he reaches that senstive spot inside you making you mewl out in pleasure. each stroke brings you closer to your climax, his head pressing against your g-spot.

"yes, right there suguru!" you gasp, your hips move in rhythm with his. his sweat-slicked body rubs against yours, his thrusts growing faster and more urgent. “fuck, thought about this for so long” he murmurs into your ear. his tongue traces the shell of your ear before he nips it and nudges his nose into your cheek. the action soft and gentle unlike his pace.

he kisses you with an intensity that turns your brain into mush. the kiss is messy and unrestrained. his teeth occasionally bumps against yours as your tongues tangle together. "suguru," you whine into the kiss and he grunts in response. his thumb finds your clit, pressing and rubbing in tight, steady circles that make you moan.

his pace quickens and you can feel the pressure building deep in your belly, your body strains with the need to come. “come for me, sweet girl,” he commands, his voice rough with his own impending orgasm. “i need to feel you cum around me.”

another hard thrust of his has you crying his name when you reach your climax. "suguru! hngghhh!!" your body arches and trembles beneath his, waves of pleasure crashing over your. he follows suit, his movements becoming erratic as he spills into you. your name escapes his lips in a broken, breathless moan.

he collapses on top of you, both of you gasping for air. the intensity of your release leaves you both breathless, your bodies entwined in the afterglow. his hand gently caresses your sides as he comes down from his high, and the room is filled with the lingering echoes of your shared passion.

a quiet settles between you, both of you lost in thought. you reflect on how everything has shifted. doubts swirl in your mind—wondering if suguru sees this as a one time thing or something more. you remember him saying he wanted more, but what if he just said it in the heat of the moment.

the silence stretches, and he can sense the turmoil in your thoughts. with a sigh, he pulls away from your shoulder. his gaze is warm and reassuring, “just ask me whatever’s on your mind".

he looks between your eyes, understanding what you're thinking before you can voice it. he presses a tender kiss to your lips, catching you off guard. he rests his forehead against yours. “i meant what i said,” he murmurs gently. “i want this. i want to move forward. i want more of this—more of us.”

you run your hands through his hair as he reassures. "i want to be your boyfriend," he mumbles, a shy smile spreading across his lips. your heart swells at his vulnerable expression, not used to seeing him like this. you chuckle softly and return his smile. “i’d like that,” you say, your voice warm and filled with emotion. unable to help himself he peppers your face in wet kisses making you laugh heartily.

☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸

A/N: please drop a like, comment or reblog!

© SONARSPACE 2024 | DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS!

[cheyisagirlkisser]

—Charity Girl—

Jackson Ellie x Fem! reader one-shot

Content: Slightly enemies to lovers, Ellie’s an asshole, AFAB reader, mentions of death and slightly graphic description, smut, nipple play, oral sex (r! receiving), making out, Ellie isn’t very cannon so if that peeves you don’t read this, mentions of weed, set in TLOU 2 universe, Joel is alive!!, this is unedited so lmk if there is any typos

Word Count: 5k

Description: You love Jackson, and you like helping people out. From farm chores to playing chess with the elderly, you’re liked around Jackson for being a charitable girl. You think everyone deserves some kindness. Everyone except Ellie, who can’t seem to find it in her to be nice to the one person who doesn’t deserve a harsh word.

God, you hated Ellie Williams.

You didn't want to say you hated her. You were a friendly person and you tried to be respectful to everyone. You even tolerated Seth, who was one of Jackson's conservative-minded guys. You rightfully disliked him, but you still remained civil when it came to professional matters.

However, it was just so hard to remain that way with Ellie. You didn't even know how truly irritating she was just seeing her around town, glancing over at her before she left for patrols with usually Jesse, Dina, Tommy, or Joel. She seemed pretty likable, at least from what you had heard. She moved to Jackson a while ago, before you even arrived at the settlement. You had never really needed to talk or had any interest in becoming friends.

You were a kind girl, and everyone in Jackson knew that. You liked helping out even if patrols weren't your strong suit. You felt insecure in that category being a bit less into scavenging and the dangers that lurked outside the town, so you decided to at least make yourself a bit useful. You made it a habit to use your love of baking to bring cupcakes to the playground for all of the children to eat. Sometimes it made you a bit sad to think about how little they had growing up in a post-apocalyptic world, but that wasn't a thought you could dwell on. You also made sure to keep the few senior citizens company because most people just didn't have the time to spend with them. Not that you didn't understand that, but you didn't sign up for patrols voluntarily unless someone else was ill and needed you to cover for them, or Maria needed an extra person. But it was just heart warming to know you made an impact since many of the old folks in towns didn't have family to keep them company. You'd spend hours playing board games with them, baking those little pastries they all complimented, asking them about their days. You were an angel amongst Jackson.

You were also extremely known for helping with food related jobs, such as gardening and farming. It was rewarding, since even though currency was quite useless in the world nowadays, you had the income of being able to take home vegetables, milk, butter, and even eggs when the chickens were active.

You mostly got along with anyone, and you tried to be a humble person. You just wanted to make the most of what you had. However, Ellie was..well, she was something. You'd soon be learning that.

It was summer, and everything was going fine for you. The sunlight hit Jackson in the most divine way and birds were flying over the settlement. You finished up with collecting eggs from one of the henhouses, so you grabbed a few as payment and headed to the diner to drop off a few. Everything was relatively normal. You glanced over at the gate and noticed that Jesse and Ellie had just gotten back from a patrol. Jesse was laughing about something and Ellie looked amusingly irritated. You couldn't help but think to yourself about how she was a pretty girl. She always wore her hair in a low messy bun, bangs framing her freckled face. You always were curious about her, but you just wrote your thoughts off as simple appreciation for her.

After you distributed the eggs to the diner and the supply building, you headed home. It was a short walk since Jackson wasn't a majorly huge place. Your house was small since you moved there alone, but it still home. You opened the front door and stepped inside. You still smelled the candles you'd lit from the previous night when you had been watching movies on DVDs found outside of Jackson on your small television. It was always the same movies. 10 Things I hate about you, Forest Gump, Scream, the Blair Witch Project(which had scared you so badly you were afraid to go patrolling in the forest for 3 months straight; you pathetically begged Maria not to make you do patrols), and E.T. It was just a random assortment of movies you had found in an abandoned house in a town outside of Jackson, but entertainment was entertainment. Who were you to complain?

You opened your fridge and stored the eggs inside, and then spent the next few minutes internally debating what you could do with your free-time. You still had a few books on your shelf that were mainly unread, but you hated staying indoors and reading like a hermit. Well, it was a nice day. You shuffled over to your shelf and picked up a book you'd borrowed from Cat a while ago and never read: Carmilla by Sheridan Le Fanu. Apparently, it was a classic a few centuries ago. With the book in hand, you left your house to find the well-used bench outside of the Tipsy Bison. It was where you loved to just sit and socialize with people or read when you wanted to breathe in fresh air.

One thing about you was that you enjoyed nature. While you did hate patrols, the idea of having to fend for yourself being unappealing, you loved the beautiful parts of it. Some debated that the infection was a part of nature, and you knew that, too. But still, you preferred being in the safety of a settlement. You knew what it was like to spend time in the outside world and it wasn't pretty. You enjoyed inhaling the air, watching as people lived their lives. Mortality was so precious right now, and maybe that's why you tried so hard to get along with everyone. You thought everyone deserved kindness.

Still, this life you led was mundane and boring at times. You were slightly envious of the patrollers. People in the current world were often restless, and as much as you’d think Jackson’s residents would love a mundane life with safety, they craved the survival. Maybe it was from their own personal trauma, but you weren’t able get that same lapse in routine everyone else got. It made you crave something extra from life, always feeling as if something was missing. Life this way, spent working and your free-time devoted to simple things, felt too easy. It felt like a deal in which you didn’t know the conditions of, and you subconsciously believed every good thing in the world had a cost. This easy lifestyle had to have a price.

For the next 15 minutes, you began your reading on that small bench. That was, until you heard someone sit down next to you. You glanced over to see Ellie there, alone next to you without any of her companions. Not that she was incapable of being alone, of course, but Ellie was the type of person to be reserved to her select group. Not a social butterfly like you, but well liked in an ironic way. She was so effortlessly able to get people to like her while not caring about whether or not people liked her. You gave her a warm smile and quickly doggy-eared the page you were reading, closing the book and setting it down into your lap.

"Can I help you with something?" You asked, remaining polite. You knew you probably seemed short with her, but if you were being truthful, the girl made you a tad bit nervous. Really, she had a positive impression on your brain. Before you really got to know her, at least.

She shrugged, feigning indifference, and answered you in a voice that was slightly teasing, her voice lacking the type of friendly amusement you'd expect from her. "Just wanted to say hi. Why is it that you sit out here everyday? Do you not have anything else to do?"

You were a bit shocked by that reply to say the least. You didn't ever expect Ellie to be even slightly rude. However, you were trying to be friendly. You'd kill this with some kindness. "Well, it's a nice day. I like the fresh air, you know?" You answered, trying to not sound too defensive.

The girl simply gave you a look you couldn't identify. Slight disapproval, and something you couldn't read. "You like fresh air? I thought you hated being outside. You know, since you never volunteer to go outside the walls and contribute?"

Now, that started to peeve you. Ellie was gorgeous, but even your little crush on her that you didn't realize you even had would save her now. Still..you tried to be friendly. Kindness is a virtue, you reminded yourself. "Everyone has their preferences. I personally like helping with the animals and harvesting crops." Once again, you tried to not sound too defensive. Something about Ellie's demeanor, the way she was looking at you intently, it made you feel as if she was trying to tease you to get a reaction out of you.

"Well, suit yourself then. But people risk their lives for you. The least you could do is return the favor. That's all I had to say." And with that last comment, she just stood up and waved at you before walking off.

It was so hard not to catch up to her and ask her what her deal was, but that would cause more problems than it would solve for you. You sat on the bench, confused and frustrated.

The next few weeks, these little comments Ellie made to you continued. It was either some slight judgment about the book you were reading or that you spent too much time trying to look sweet that you were actually just useless. It was always with a tone that was so rude yet seemed teasing. You wondered if she meant any of it. You always tried to defend yourself, but you were starting to really despise Ellie. You considered talking to someone like Maria, Tommy, or Joel about it, but would they even believe you? Ellie was usually not so rude from the conversations you had overheard. She seemed like a normal girl. It was frustrating having nobody to tell this to. Your friends always laughed you off, saying that Ellie was probably just joking with you to be friendly and that you were misunderstanding her. Everyone in Jackson loved Ellie, and she seemed to get along with everyone just fine except for you. Still, you tried to be sweet. You would simply brush her off, pretend like she was just some old person who made subtle criticisms and not anything serious. It was just really starting to get to you, though. You wondered how long you could manage.

Turns out, you would have to manage a patrol with her. Someone did in fact become ill and had to turn down a patrol, so you volunteered. Only then did Maria seem to mention that your partner was Ellie. You wanted to beg to swap with someone else, but you didn't want to inconvenience anyone, so you accepted the fate. It was a foot patrol among the south trails. 8 hours of pure torture.

Foot patrols were entirely different matters than what usual patrols entail. For starters, usual patrols require horses and cover more distance. They’re less dangerous. Being on foot also requires you to trust your partner more, which you struggle to do with your current partner. You have to trust that they’ll cooperate with you and have your back if things get tough. However, foot patrols do not require patrollers to hit up the main buildings or hot spots. You only check into the small places around the area, such as the office downtown or the gun store a mile from the grocery store. You’re less likely to get ambushed by a horde of clickers that way.

The fact that it was a summer patrol instead of winter made it slightly better. You imagined what it’d be like if you and Ellie got trapped in a snowstorm and were locked into some grocery store together. Annoyingly enough, the idea of having to share body heat with her made your heart flutter more than you’d like to admit. Summer patrols meant you’d probably have to take a lot of rests so neither of you would overheat, however.v

The cork board outside of the supply station mocked you in a way with your name being beside Ellie’s. You truly began to wonder if you could handle being alone with the girl who subtly tormented you for weeks straight without finally snapping. You didn’t want to know what would happen if you snapped at her. Would she yell back, or maybe even report you to Maria? You just knew that your usual patience was wearing thin.

You went home and collapsed onto your bed, hoping that a good night’s sleep would somehow save you from the situation you’d be facing tomorrow. As if Ellie would suddenly leave you be if you got enough sleep—you were just truly desperate.

Night didn’t last forever, and you woke to the sight of light streaming through your curtains in small patches. You groaned and forced yourself to get out of bed. The alarm clock read “6 A.M.” Much too early to have to deal with Ellie Williams.

You took a quick shower just to freshen up and got ready for the day, messily tying your hair back and putting on a pair of tan cargo pants, a light button-up, and a pair of combat boots. Simple, but safe. You packed a bag with some emergency medical supplies including gauze, alcohol pads, and a bottle of ibuprofen. You knew that you'd be given a care package from the supply crew, but you liked to be safe.

You would always grab a shotgun and a pistol from the weaponry building. Most people would choose to take the rifles, but you found it easier to shoot a light pistol and shotguns were easier to aim with. You knew the more trained people, Ellie included, would bring knives or machetes to clear infected with. You didn't trust yourself to get so close to the infected, at least not without something like a gun. Extra ammo, and extra MREs. You always felt a bit more safe bringing just a few extra things in case of emergencies.

You remember when you arrived at Jackson, and you were assigned your very first patrol at 17. You spent hours before patrol preparing with extra equipment, and it soon became a habit to overthink the experience. Your partners would ask about it, maybe give you an odd look, but most people just got used to it after a while. Everyone assumed it was because of your life before Jackson, and they'd guessed right.

The children that were raised in Jackson were unfortunate to have even been born in such a dangerous world that can snatch away the people you care for most, but they at least grew up into safety. You were nomadic, moving from settlement to settlement, group to group, or even just setting up camp in the middle of a forest or abandoned city. It was a dangerous life, and it left you constantly losing sleep, waking up and wondering if your father who you traveled with would be able to protect you if something truly happened. If the two of you had the misfortune of stumbling upon a horde of infected or run into a slaver group. It was often that you'd sleep so lightly, even the sound of a mouse scurrying across an abandoned office floor would wake you. You were terrified with the thought of being eaten alive in your sleep or worse, bitten, and left to slowly lose your humanity.

The day your father was killed off wasn't much different than any other, and that resulted in your current state. Always being overprepared because maybe you could prevent sudden death. Just maybe if you brought one extra gauze strip, you'd somehow prevent past you from watching your father be torn apart from a clicker. Jackson was supposed to be a fresh start for you, so you always found yourself repeating the same phrase.

"Make the best of what you have, and don't dwell on what you've lost."

Sometimes you break your own rules, though.

It was around 6:45 when you arrived at the gates. The sun wasn't up yet, and that meant flashlights would probably be necessary. One downside to summer patrol was that the sun set late, but the sun rose late, too. You anticipated the hues of orange and pink that would paint the sky and give you light.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Ellie cleared her throat, signaling she was here and ready to go. You stole a glance at her and your heart fell into your stomach.

She looked messy and somehow so gorgeous that it hurt. She had a slightly masculine energy to her with a pair of brown leathers boots and boot-cut dark jeans that still found a way to hug her thighs so deliciously. She wore a short-sleeve t-shirt you'd seen on her before and her low bun had strands falling out of it, strands you secretly wanted to tuck behind her ears.

You scratched those thoughts out of your head when she opened her mouth.

"Are you conscious? We need to get moving." She had a slightly scolding tone that made you want to bite back with something just as condescending, but you held back.

Instead, you simply nodded, and Ellie probably could've sworn that you had veins popping out of your forehead. Who could've blamed you? Ellie was such an asshole to you.

Ellie's mind was an extremely complicated place. Her thoughts were quick, and she felt the need to always be on task. However, one difference between the two of you was that she got into trouble at times. It was quite inevitable though, especially when she was friends with Dina and Jesse.

Incidents like getting high off her ass on patrol, messing around with a squeaky toy and accidently attracting a group of walkers, losing her temper and pissing off a group of stragglers, or when her and Jesse abused the walkie-talkies.

She was naturally in need of routine breaks, and maybe that's why she teased you so much. She felt a little envious. You were this perfect girl, sweet as they come, who cared for the people in town who didn't usually have company. You didn't do patrols and you were still an incredibly hard worker in ways Ellie felt lacking, because there were so many people around town who kissed your ass for doing something as simple as milking the cows.

That wasn't all Ellie's thoughts about you were based around, though. Something about how boring your life was somehow appealed to her, and she hated herself for even thinking about you. She also shouldn't have been obsessing over a girl who was probably straight, like most girls in Jackson, of course. But something about you really made her want to break you and see you snap. Maybe that's why she spent so much time trying to get a reaction out of you. She knew she was being a dickhead to you, but she still just needed to see that snap. She'd finally be able to know that you were more than just some nice girl, then.

Truth was, Ellie was probably in love with you with the amount she thought about you. Insulting you was so easy, though. It was so easy to pretend that she didn't like you than to make an effort to impress you and be herself. She was scared of letting you know who she actually was because you may reject her forreal, and she couldn't handle that.

So it was best to pretend like she enjoyed being extremely condescending to you.

The first two hours of patrol was spent walking in close proximity on the trails south of the creek. You could practically smell the water, and you could feel the slight breeze that gave you some relief the extreme heat. Every now and then you'd take a sip of water and look around cautiously. Caution was something you couldn't live without, and Ellie seemed to take a notice to that. It was just your lucky day that she was in the mood to be an asshole to you again.

She'd make small remarks to you, sometimes questioning the way your hands trembled anxiously, or asking you why you didn't bring any good weapons. When it was lunch time, she laughed at the ridiculous amount of rations in your backpack. Slowly, you felt peeved. Why was Ellie such a bitch to you? You knew she didn't actually care about these things, yet she loved to point them out in the most grating voice she could muster up. After one particular comment that was something along the lines of "You know, it's embarrassing that someone else had to get sick for you do take a patrol shift" that finally made you snap.

You halted along the trail and turned to face her, a sudden irrational wave of anger flooding your system. "What the fuck is your problem?! Are you just mad because you hate me? Is that it? I don't understand what I did to deserve you constantly criticizing me!" You snapped, voice clear with anger. You stepped forward and you wanted to slap her across the face, hardly holding back from doing so. Ellie sensed this and maybe she felt a twinge of fear and something else you didn't even notice. This was odd seeing as she could easily kick your ass. Her back hit a large tree, her eyes widened as if she couldn't have possibly predicted this reaction. This only made you more irritated.

You stepped forward, your body close enough to hears that you could hear her inhale and exhale, and it was a shaky sound that you would've questioned if it weren't for your anger serving as a distraction. "Answer me, asshole! Why do you hate me so much?! Just fucking-" And you were cut off with a kiss.

Her hands desperately grasped at your face, pulling you closer as she kissed you. It wasn't the standard type of sweet kiss in which two people would brush up against each other's lips. She was practically devouring you with her need. At first, you couldn't process what was happening. Ellie was kissing you so hard you felt almost lightheaded. But for some reason, all of the anger you felt was flushed away as you began to kiss her back.

Ellie took some initiative and flipped you around so that you were backed up against the tree, the rough bark digging into your back. However, you couldn't focus on any discomfort present in your body. All you could feel was the numbing swell of your lips as Ellie's practically bruised yours. You felt her teeth bite on your bottom lip, and you let out a pathetic moan. Her hands were somehow everywhere, from your face to the sides of your body as if she was trying to pull the warmth from your body.

She tasted so fucking good, it was hard to stop. You could faintly taste copper from where she bit down onto your lip, but you could also taste her in such an intimate way, it was more emotional than it seemed. A mix of her toothpaste, and an Earthiness you'd imagined she'd contain. The two of you were lost in each other that patrol was all but forgotten.

You finally had to pull away to breathe, but she needed more. Her hands trailed across your chest, palming at your tits through your shirt. You tilted your head back against the tree, and she took the opportunity to leave hungry kisses on your pulse point, probably sucking hard enough on your skin to leave hickey's you'd lecture her about later. But for now, you didn't care.

It was all a blur, her pulling at your clothes and the both of you left naked against the tree not long after. She tugged at your hair while lapping at your tits, and this made you breathless. "Ellie, please.." You didn't even know what you were begging for.

She let out a soft noise and released the latch she had on one of your tits. “Fuck, I like this version of you so much better than the other one..” She said, her voice riddled with an obvious sense of need that made your thigh involuntarily clench. She moved upwards, her tongue meeting your collarbone and then up to your jaw. She kissed down the side of your neck, the heat of her mouth and the wetness of her tongue enveloping you. You tilted your head back, your breathing coming out in soft pants. You didn’t understand how you could hate her moments before and somehow be a mess for her now. You really wanted to hate how good it felt, but you really couldn’t even find an ounce of fight left in you to try and push her away. You didn’t want to push her away. 

Her hands moved to your tits, kneading them softly, pinching your nipples while she mouthed at the sensitive spot between your shoulder and neck. It felt like heaven the way her lips caressed your skin. 

She moved much too slowly down your body, kissing both of your stiff nipples before sliding her tongue down your navel. Her hands pulled at your waist and you couldn’t help but arch your back slightly to meet her mouth as it moved against your thighs. She tried to tease you as best she could while being so horny as well, but soon she gave up on the idea altogether. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet..” Was the last thing she muttered before the heat of her mouth finally pressed up against your cunt making you clench around nothing. She parted your thighs gently and you struggled to stay standing against the tree. Your hands tangled into her hand to find purchase as her tongue lapped at your clit like you were dinner. Not like rations or canned soup you’d typically find lying around in an old grocery store, but a michelin star meal. You were far too expensive for her budget and she was taking advantage of the sample she got. She imagined what it’d be like to have you everyday, to be able to bring you please like this for hours on end. But she was too far gone to really dwell on the thought long before she was wrapping her soft lips around your clit and giving it a suck, making you tug on her roots and rocking your hips against her mouth, grinding your wet cunt against her mouth. She was so warm and you were soaking for her, and it was absolutely perfect.

Sometimes, you had overheard philosophical drunken conversions at the Tipsy Bison. People with flushed cheeks would talk of hatred. That was nothing new; hatred was always common in the world, even before the infection. But hearing someone talk about how hatred is just a negative type of love, now that part stuck with you. You could feel hatred for Ellie while she worked at your cunt, you told yourself. You repeated into your head that hate was unglorified love. Maybe it was desire, too. 

But you struggled to keep that notion in your head as her tongue swirled around you teasingly before not holding back one bit. And before you knew it, you were a goner. Your breaths grew shorter as your climax finally took over, your knees nearly buckling as you let out a loud cry against the release you were feeling. You were violently tugging at her auburn strands, making her moan in return, only sending more shocks through your body as you felt her send warm vibrations through your pussy. 

You nearly forgot how to speak. 

Eventually, you went limp against the tree, and she stood up to hold you close. Your breaths were ragged for a while and the two of you remained silent until she broke it with a soft sigh. 

“I am sorry for being a jerk..I don’t even know what’s wrong with me.” She whispered softly, her breath hitting your neck. 

Finally, you found your voice again, though it was unsteady and quiet. “I just didn’t understand..I still don’t. I thought you hated me.” 

She frowned at that and hugged your tightly, which showed to you that this moment was much more than sexual desire shared between the two of you. “No, I don’t hate you. I’m just an idiot, okay? I was jealous, and I sort of liked you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you ever.”

That made your heart beat just a little faster. “You…like me back?” You asked, needing her to say it just one more time. 

“Yes. I like you too. I swear, I think I’m in love with you the way I’m so obsessed with you. You were always taking up space in my mind..it was driving me insane.” She admitted, and it caused you to lean forward to plant a soft kiss on her lips. Both of your lips were still kiss-swollen and your body was shaking with the after-glow of your orgasm, but this kiss was much more gentle than the previous. It was soft and made you even more weak than her tongue did. Which was saying a lot.

She hugged you tightly, her hands finding purchase at your waist. You thought about getting dressed and going on with patrol, but none of it felt right now. The situation gave you that lapse in routine you needed, and you knew you were probably addicted to the feeling of Ellie’s presence now. Somehow, you couldn’t care less. That was a first.

[wstviewvidal]

cabernet sauvignon- w. maximoff

pairing: rich!wanda x reader

summary: jealousy leads to beautiful beginnings

a/n: hi!! final chapter of dirty cash. i’m so grateful to everyone who took the time to read this series! i’d be so happy and excited to do any one shots u guys may have ideas for!

minors do not interact

wanda’s day leading up to dinner was nothing short of frantic. she’d spent the entire day before deep cleaning her whole house, afraid that you’d end up in her medicine cabinet somehow or inspecting every crevice of her house. that thought lone had her spending hours crouched underneath tables, standing on stools, even using a micro brush to ensure there was no dust on any surface of her house.

it’s been a week since she took you and your niece out for a girls day. she went home giddy that night and sent a dinner invitation to you as soon as she parked in her driveway.

so, here she was trying her best to find the perfect outfit that looked put together but not too try hard. she stared at the pile of rejected clothes laying on her bed, teetering the fine line between excitement and frantic.

she groaned silently and threw her head back, “why don’t i have any clothes?”

her entire room was in disarray, shirts haphazardly thrown on her bed and jeans laid out on her desk chair. she pulled out piece after piece, holding each article of clothing up to her body in the mirror before throwing it away.

she spent the next twenty minutes scouring and searching for an outfit, only to end up with a blue and white striped button down and dark jeans— an everyday uniform for her.

hi! i’m at the store grabbing wine, do you need anything from here before i head your way?

wanda’s phone chimed with a text message from you and she immediately picked up and read. she smiled down at the message, her heart blooming with warmth at the sight of your name in her phone.

no, everything’s ready! just drive safe.

the next few minutes consisted of wanda fluffing pillows and angling picture frames in an aesthetically pleasing way. taking a few deep breaths, she calmed herself down when she saw you pull into her driveway. she straightened her shirt out and smoothed her hair, taking a deep breath.

but when she saw your car pull into her driveway, all her cool evaporated into thin air.

you didn’t even get the chance to knock on her door before she opened it for you, a wide grin on her face.

“hi,” she breathed out, her grin someone becoming wider now that she’s laid her yes on you, “come in.”

so you do.

and her home is beautiful. you take in the smell of food, the movie playing in the background, the pictures adorning her wall.

you turn to look at her, “your home is beautiful.”

although your body angled toward her, your eyes are too busy looking over how her home is decorated. all the while, wanda is frozen in time at the sight of you. you seem to be enamored by the cozy atmosphere she’s built, and wanda can’t help but be enamored by the way your eyes twinkle in awe.

smiling, she moves toward you to grab the bottle of wine, “thank you. come into the kitchen so we can eat,” your fingers momentarily brush against one another, but wanda didn’t let it linger too long— her nerves getting the better of her.

you follow her, watching wanda’s brown hair flowing gracefully behind her as she leads you further into her house. walking into the kitchen, you’re hit with the rich savory aroma of her home cooked meal.

you take in the smell, letting out a small sigh, “didn’t know you could cook,” you tease as you look over her shoulder at the red hued dish on the stove.

wanda scoffs, glancing back at you in faux offense, “of course i made this! what, you think i can’t cook?”

you nod playfully, your lips curving into a mocking pout, “oh, i know better now.”

wanda smirks subtly, giving you a once over, “good,” her eyes drag over you for a moment before returning back to the stove.

her voice drops slightly, her tone carrying a tease— you can’t help but flush at the way she looked at you. the air between you is warm and charged, you can’t help but wonder what tonight could lead to.

the two of you plate the food and sit at her kitchen table, soft music playing in the background. the light from the overhead fixture casts a comforting glow around the room.

as wanda’s speaks, you watch as she fiddles with her rings, a nervous habit of hers you’ve picked up on. you can’t help but let out a small giggle in amusement.

wanda’s brows furrow, “what’s so funny?”

you shrug nonchalantly, “you’re nervous,” you say matter-of-factly, “you’re normally not like this,” you lean back in your chair as you analyze her.

tilting her head, she she narrows her eyes at you, “i’m not nervous.”

raising an eyebrow and scoffing softly, “so you’re lying to me now?” your voice has a playful tone to it, and it works— wanda visibly loosens up and her lips twitch into a smile.

she rolls her eyes and stays quiet, her cheeks a soft shade of pink.

you side eye her a bit, then nod in agreement with her, “okay, then you’re not nervous.”

she begins to chuckle, “you’re impossible, you know that?” her smile widens and she shakes her head at you.

“maybe,” you quip, your your teasing grin widens.

the playful exchange lightens the atmosphere and wanda’s nerves slowly work themselves out. wanda glances over at you, her expression softening— almost like she’s trying to memorize this moment. for the first time tonight, you wonder to yourself if she’s feeling as caught up in this as you are.

the dinner is filled with easy conversation, the two of you laughing over shared memories and you gazing at wanda when she isn’t looking.

nearing the end of the dinner, you look over at wanda, “this was amazing, wands,” you say gently as you look at her, “you’ve been holding out on me. i had no idea you could cook like this.”

wanda props her chin in her hand, smiling as you thank her for the meal, “in all honesty, i didn’t think it’d come out this good,” she admits softly, “i just think it just tasted better because you were here.”

caught off guard, you blink. the warmth in her voice feels intentional, not overwhelming, but it makes your heart race. she takes a sip from her wine glass, acting as though the moment was not meant to linger.

you two sit on her couch, sipping the wine you brought over. wanda turns her attention to you, “i’m really happy you came tonight,” her voice low and sincere, “i can’t remember the last time i enjoyed dinner this much.”

you tilt your head at her, noting the way her words felt more meaningful than casual, “what, dinner with your exes wasn’t this thrilling?”

you knew you were possibly crossing a line and fishing for something you didn’t want to catch. part of you wonders if you’re treading too close to something vulnerable.

wanda smirks, a playful light in her eyes as she looks at you, “dinner with my exes involved a lot less conversation and a lot more… awkward silence,” a soft laugh bubbles up as she recalls how she couldn’t have meaningful conversations with them like she has with you. she picks up her glass, looking over the rim at you as she takes a sip, “but you? you make it easy.”

wanda watches your reaction with a laugh, shaking her head at how easily flustered you can get. the red on your face is hard to ignore and you can feel your ears hot.

she laughs lowly once more, “you’re easy to fluster.”

before you can recover, she changes the subject, not allowing you the chance to recover, “so, does this mean i’ll be having you over more often for dinner?”

you clear your throat, putting the wine glass down on her coffee table, “i’ll have to be back. i may need a second round to make sure this wasn’t a fluke.”

wanda nods, a smug smile on her face. internally, she was celebrating and already planning for next time. but outwardly she’s nodding and leaning her cheek into her hand.

“didn’t take you for the demanding type,” she says, her tone laced with amusement.

rolling your eyes, you face your body towards her on the couch, pulling your legs beneath you, “i’m not demanding, i’m thorough. there’s a very big difference.”

tilting her head, she narrows her eyes as if she’s analyzing you, “don’t worry, i noticed it after we spending time together,” she looks away from you, her voice dropping a few octaves, “but it wasn’t the first thing i noticed.”

you watch her as she looks away from you, noticing how she flirts but never pushes too far afterward. you decide to change the subject.

“wanda,” you say causally, “how do you know jesse?”

wanda raises an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard, “i don’t,” her fingers fiddling with her necklace, “valerie mentioned her at the aquarium. why?”

nodding along, attempting to sound unaffected, “i just didn’t think i she’d bring her up, that’s all.”

wanda tilts her head, noticing your sudden mood change, she places a soft hand on your own, “don’t worry about it,” she brushes the topic off with ease, “besides, i have my own share of exes who like to linger.”

you snap your head toward her, eyebrows furrowed, “linger?”

wanda hums, a smug smile tugging on her lips at your reaction, “matter of fact, one of them texted me yesterday. she wants to get dinner this week.”

your jaw tightens before you can even help it, “that’s nice,” your words comes out clipped.

wanda fights the urge to laugh, reveling in your reaction, “yeah, i haven’t responded yet. who knows?”

she watches you as you hum and busy yourself with the movie playing in front of you two, but your concentration is far too deliberate to be real. she knows she should ease your worries— she could, but something about the face that you don’t want her to go is making her heart flutter.

you get up to leave a short while after the movie ends, helping wanda clean up the living room you two lounged in.

wanda leads you out, a familiar hand on your back as always, “text me when you get home please.”

you nod and smile up at her, “of course,” wanda looks at you with a grin and twinkling eyes.

she lingers, her contact with you not wavering, her eyes tracing every detail of your face with a deep smile. before you can even think better of it, your arms loop around her neck while her hands find a comfortable spot on the sides of your waist.

you pull back slightly, looking into her eyes, unsure if you should speak your mind. wanda looks down at you, her heart beating rapidly at the contact with you.

“wanda?” you say, almost silently.

“hm?” wanda can hardly focus on anything other than the fact that you’re holding onto her and looking at her with a lovestruck smile. her heart is pounding so loudly she’s surprised you can’t hear it. there is no denying the tenderness behind her expression.

you notice as her eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips, a subtle smile on her face as she gazes into your eyes.

“don’t go to dinner with your ex,” you say rather quickly, “please.”

an amused grin appears on wanda’s face as she holds you, tilting her head, “why?” her face inches just the slightest and you can feel her breath on your cheek.

you’re unsure if you’ve crossed a line, but the way she’s looking into your eyes so intensely— the way she’s holding you gently makes you throw caution to the wind.

you don’t answer her question with words. instead, you lean in, hesitation for just a brief moment to see if she pulls away. she doesn’t. her lips meet yours, softly, tenderly even, as if she’s been waiting for this moment.

wanda doesn’t pull away. instead, her hand presses softly against your lower back, pulling you in. she holds you close with such tenderness that it makes your heart ache. when you pull back, her grin is still there, but this time it is softer now.

your cheeks flush,“don’t go to dinner with your ex,” your voice is steadier now, “please.”

wanda’s grin softens into something more sincere. her thumb rubbing against your waist absentmindedly as she nods, “okay.”

she speaks simply as she watches you sigh, as if the decision was ever in question.

wanda leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, her lips lingering like she doesn’t want to let you go, “text me when you get home.”

you nod, your hear full as you step back, awaiting when you can see her again.

wanda watches you leave, leaning against her doorframe with a giddy smile, her bottom lip in between her teeth. neither of you say it, but you both know it’s different now. there’s promise there, a promise of something more.

finally.

[ohbueckers]

HALFTIME. i know that your body’s been in drought, so, girl, i’m gon’ make you feel it.

ONE-SHOT! pairing, paige bueckers x reader. notes, based off this request. thank you, anon, they all said in unison! i swear jealousy is what i write the best i’m always finding a way to it lmaaao. enjoy as always. warnings, sexual content.

the arena lights are blinding, but they don’t stop paige from seeing everything—and everyone—in the stands. she scans the seats between plays, like she’s been doing all game, just to catch a glimpse of you. you’re sitting on your own, decked out in her uconn gear. you flew in from usc, your own university, just for her, crossing the country to see her play, and it’s been keeping her amped up since tip-off after not having seen you since the season started.

she’d been locked in, sure, but ever since she spotted you, every second on the court has doubled as an opportunity to check in. you’d mentioned you’d be sitting alone since you didn’t know anyone besides her teammates, and she’s been quietly reassuring herself that you’d be okay. it was enough, though—the knowledge that you were here, watching her, even if it was from a distance.

now, though? now, paige can’t believe what she’s seeing.

some guy just sat next to you, leaning in with too much confidence, smiling too wide. paige can’t see the details, but she notices the way his posture says too close, the way you tilt your head slightly, almost like you’re humoring him. it doesn’t matter that you’re probably being nice, that you probably had an empty seat next to you. that’s her spot next to you, her right to your focus.

she catches herself clenching her jaw, and her hands tighten around the ball as she sets up the next play. shes almost telling herself to let it go, that she only feels like this because she’s missed you so bad, and didn’t even have a chance to see you before having to get on the court. but that was until she saw it. his hand.

she runs a hand down her ponytail, fingers grazing over the two tight braids framing her face, her eyes fixed intently on you and that guy beside you. she’s so caught up in watching that she doesn’t even notice kk nudging ice on the bench, motioning over to her in a way to say, yo, look at p.

it would’ve been fine, really. he laughed, hand dropping casually to your knee, and he even had the audacity to let it linger there, letting it inch a little higher. and that was it—her last bit of patience snapped. she knows you’re hers, but something in her always had to prove a point.

to herself more than anyone.

the whistle blares, and paige plays through the last seconds of the second quarter with a little extra force, a silent countdown ticking away in her mind until the buzzer sounds. as soon as it does, she’s off, nearly throwing the ball just to get it out of her hands.

as she heads off the court, a hand swipes the towel from a teammate, and she slings it around her neck, swiping it across her forehead with parted lips, huffing out breaths of tiredness and pure annoyance. the sweat from the game has her feeling wired, and her heartbeat’s already kicking faster than usual. she flicks her tongue over her lips, jaw working tight. the taste of salt clings to her skin, and her ponytail bounces against her shoulders as she walks, each step more clipped than the last.

rounding the corner into the tunnel, she catches sight of you waiting where you always do, leaning against the wall, your familiar face softening the second you spot her. you’d even left the stands a little earlier just to catch her, but she walks right past, barely a glance in your direction, her silence as heavy as the weight of her irritation. taken aback, you push off the wall, calling after her quietly, but she doesn’t look back, her focus set on where she’s headed. she had to have seen you, right? heard you?

she leads you to a more secluded area, and you can only hear her footsteps filling the empty hallway as you try to keep up, smaller legs not doing you much justice. she strides into the dimly lit room, the only light coming from the showers, casting shadows over the benches, lockers, and tiled floors. paige doesn’t say a word as you step in after her, your eyes wide in disbelief that she’d just fucking ignored you the whole way here.

then, she’s kicking the stopper holding the door open out. it shuts with a click, and without warning, she throws her towel onto a nearby bench before she’s pressing you back against the cool wall. her mouth is on yours, relentless and unapologetic, her tongue sweeping across your lips before slipping inside. she’s tonguing you down.

one hand is at the back of your neck, fingers spread, holding you firmly in place as she deepens the kiss, pouring every ounce of jealousy and need into it. her other hand finds your waist, pulling you flush against her.

“paige—“

“you got a whole lotta nerve, you know that?” she mutters, voice all rough as her lips find your jawline. you’re a little dazed, eyebrows furrowed as you submit to your girlfriend. until it clicks—curly-head in the stands. his hand on your knee, that laugh.

paige is jealous. and you’re definitely gonna milk it.

you wrap your arms around her shoulders, drawing her closer as she peppers kisses down your neck, a possessive bite here and there, making you tilt your head to the side. “you’re bein’ s’mean, p,” you murmur, teasing her in a way you’re sure she’ll fall weak to, fingers stroking that spot just below her ear. “i was just being polite.”

paige hesitates for a moment, her lips hovering over your skin, eyes narrowing. for a second, you think maybe she’s softening, that your words have gotten through. but just as quickly, her jaw tightens, and her eyes lower. without a word, her other hand drops to your waist, fingers gripping hard, and she pushes you down onto the bench behind you so effortlessly it has a pool forming between your legs.

she strolls around, flipping you over. “yeah? didn’t look like it from where i was standin.’” her eyes are fixed on you, and before you can answer, she’s hooking her fingers into your waistband, yanking down your pants in one swift motion. there’s a look in her eyes that tells you she’s not interested in taking her time with only fifteen minutes, and especially not after what she’s seen. she’s set on making a point.

her hands are on you too, one gripping your ass and the other digging into your thigh. you glance back at her, then to the door. her teammates have to be close—maybe a couple doors away. you can hear sneakers and loud chatter, and you wonder if they’re looking for their star player.

for paige, this is the last thing on her mind.

your neck doesn’t let you look for too long, and you’re forced to catch a glimpse of paige’s lick of her lips as you return your head to hang low. “fuckin’ polite,” she mumbles, shaking her head tauntingly as she mocks you.

her hands glide possessively over you, and you can tell just by the way they move how much she’s missed you. missed this. without warning, her fingers slip between your thighs, teasing your folds for just a moment before she slides one inside, the suddenness of it causing a gasp to catch in your throat.

her jersey clings to her, drenched from the game, arm sleeves pushed up just enough to expose the toned muscle of her forearms. her arms flex with each shift, biceps straining under the fabric as her other hand steadies you, holding you firmly in place, and she sure is strong enough to keep you from squirming away.

you’re whimpering, trying to contain your moans as you curl your lips in. paige is leaning in now, lips hovering near your ear as her ponytail brushes against your cheek. “think it’s funny?” she asks, and you shake your head as paige’s eyebrows furrow. “no? y’thought he was though. didn’t you?”

caught off guard, you hesitate, and that’s all it takes for paige to ram another finger in. you aren’t sure if you’ve just just been deprived, but one felt like enough. “pai—ah—fuck!”

she only smirks, settling back a bit as she watches the way her fingers sink in and out of you. “got me out here distracted,” she mutters, her tone dipping lower. you missed hearing her the most, the way the sound of her fucking accent could get you wet. “losin’ my focus over you, watchin’ you with him like you forgot who fucks you like this.”

unable to move out of her grasp, you can only squirm until you’re flush against her, ass pressed to her navy blue shorts. you’re barely able to hold yourself up, the pleasure spreading throughout your entire body.

paige takes the opportunity, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling you up so your back can meet her chest. her bottom lip is tucked between her teeth, her slender fingers pummeling into your cunt, and before you know it, she adds another. a third.

“pai—ge. shit. you’re stretching me out,” you breathe out pathetically, bringing your own hand down to your clit, trying to relieve some of the heat she’s added, but it’s no use.

“i know, baby,” she soothes through clenched teeth, overwhelmed by the grip your walls have on her herself. she’s looking down at you, all hunger. “y’ain’t had it in so long. gotta make sure you feel it.” and you do.

you settle against her with heavy breaths, moaning and clenching as your orgasm builds from her rhythm. paige knows exactly what she’s doing, every part of your body telling her you’re right on the edge. with each moan spilling from your lips, you grind harder, and she picks up her pace. “gonna come, ma? let me know.”

you nod feverishly, your voice almost breaking as you pant. “yeah, so close, p…”

she lets you go, and you catch yourself before falling all the way, whimpering. she pulls out slowly, too slow, until the tips of her fingers remained, curling in just a bit. it isn’t enough to get you there, and before you can beg, paige says, “tell me that you’re mine right now and mayb—“

you can’t wait another second. “i’m yours, baby.”

her smirk deepens, and she tilts her head, clearly savoring the sound of your voice as you confess. “yeah, that’s what i thought.” her fingers curl a bit more, giving you just a hint of the release you’re chasing, her touch infuriatingly perfect but just shy of enough.

with that, she resumes, fingers slipping deeper, her other hand gripping your hip as she holds you. the tension snaps, and you shudder against her, everything fading out as she keeps up, drawing out every last pulse until your legs are weak and your breathing’s even more uneven than before.

as you catch your breath, letting every part you can fall, paige, still holding her grip, pulls your pants up with a glance at the door. as you lean back into her touch again, she presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, almost tender now. “better remember that,” she whispers, barely audible.

craziest part? you don’t even like guys.

[nastyc2nt]

Hey, I saw you're taking requests so I wanted to know if you could write something with yandere Percy Jackson and fem reader where they're already in a "situationship" or something and reader decides to be a little cheeky and runs away from Percy in random moments when he tries to touch her, without knowing he's really into this shit because it awakes the worst sides of him and he fucks her mercilessly after he catches her?

I don't know if this makes any sense or if you can really make it work, feel free to change anything if think it necessary. Xoxo

(Sorry if I wrote anything wrong, English is not my first language.)

࿐ Playing Games ࿐

╰┈➤ Older!Dark!Yan!Percy Jackson x Fem!Reader

✦ ──────── ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ──────── ✦

╰┈➤ Warnings: Yandere, 18!Percy, Demi god college dorms, Chasing, Pray kink?, Teasing, Rough Fucking, Chocking, Biting. Tell me if I missed anything.

╰┈➤ Word count: 1.4k

╰┈➤ First requests! So excited, thank you, hope you love it baby!!

It’s all just a fun game you’d play. Turning away from his kisses or the touch he tries to give you, acting as if nothing happened. Harmless fun.

The whole campus knew how Percy felt about you — the gods themselves couldn’t stop the madness that is his love. And yet you guys weren’t a thing, something he wound change in time but he’s fine with keeping it on the “down low” as you like to call. Be it too kissing in his dorm at night while his hands run down your shirt, feeling your soft skin or ass while you sit nice and pretty on his lap. Or, fucking you in the dead of night not caring if the person next door can hear your moans, his voice or the bed hitting the wall.

Today was the second day you’d been playing that game of yours, and much to his dismay he’s been enjoying it more then he’d care to admit. When he got his hands on your warm figure only for you to turn around and run off, using many excuses to play it off. It was so easy for him to catch on, when you did it the third time on the same day he connected the dots. That cheeky smirk on your lips didn’t help your act either.

So Percy spent no time wondering if you were mad at him or didn't love him. That time was filled with wonders of what he'd do when he gets tired of this little game.

“Come here,” he mumbled when he reached out for you, it was so easy to just grab you from behind and rest his hand on your shoulders. But as soon as he spoke your head ducked while stepping out of his reach. You giggled, eyes looking soft but mischievous. Daring darling you are.

You stepped back slowly, “Catch me if you can, might give you a kiss if you ask nicely.” the next step was to run around to try and avoid him. It was primal instinct for Percy that kicked in when you ran off. You needed him to chase you. Catch you and take what he needed — To fuck the brat out of you and show you that you can play your games, but you’re still a puppet on his strings.

Once his hands wrapped around your frame it was over, for the guy you’ve been seeing was a new beast. One that wasn’t going to show you mercy, you’re it’s pray now and can’t fight back. Percy was rough and his eyes were shot that you swore they changed to black with his dark hair looming over his face.

He tore the clothes off, ripping them open just to show you what he was capable of. His hands pinned you against the wall while the other wrapped around the nice neck he’d been marking for weeks. This was new. Yes you had crazy sex in the past but this was different, he wanted to break you.

“I do love a good chase,” his raspy voice was right next to your ears, “wanted to rile me up just so I would show you who you belong to? Yeah, your pussy is answering when your pathetic mouth can’t.” he grins at your expression. All fucked out, mouth wide open from the moans leaving your lips and eyes rolling back from pleasure. You had given up pushing him away minutes ago so your hands gripped on his shirt to hold onto something.

His cock was going too fast for you to take a breath, he was racing with himself to see just how loud and hard it sounded when your bodies met. It started to hurt your breasts with how much they were moving up and down, and your swollen cunt that was get abused by his cock, and clit that was puffy.

His dark eye’s followed each expression you had, how your brows curled up, a scrunch in your nose. Everything was for him. “Such a slut, you know that? That little game was just so you could be used like rag doll?” You screamed when he bottomed out inside you with one hard thrust, hitting so far within you and stayed there for a minute.

He laughed at you. It was pathetic, the tears running down your cheeks was cute but you’re such a cry baby. “Awe, can take my cock girl? You’ve been begging for it but can’t handle it now?” Percy mocked down at your trembling body.

You whined, lips bringing themselves together, and you looked up at him through the soaked eyelashes. “Please— agh~ please, be more gentle.” it was cute that you think you had any authority to beg him right now.

He leaned back, his cock slipping out of you quickly but not as quick as he flipped you around against the wall and wrapped one hand around the front of your torso. “Gentle? We both know that’s not what you want,” his hand rushed down to send a sharp slapping pain to your ass, making you jump in surprise and pain. “you’ve cum about three times now.”

Percy slipped back in and began at the same speed he was before, his balls slapping against your ass, making the cheeks more red as he thrushed against them. You sobbed, going back to pleasure bliss, overestimated once again by his long cock.

“That’s my girl,” he groaned and kissed your neck.

You shook your head violently as his fingers reached down to play with your swollen clit and rubbed you nice and fast. “Percy- Don’t, too sensitive,” you cried again. Sloppy sounds came from your hole that was was being fucked, it was so dirty to hear. Your walls clamped down on him from the growing orgasm building up in your stomach and burning in your core.

“Cum for me, let me feel you pulsing on me again. Be a good girl, cum and then let me fill you up,” he whined finally softer into your neck, his head rested in the crook of your neck. His rhythm started to get messy but never slowed down once— It got rougher. A few seconds later your body gave one last electric shock throughout itself and you released everything you had onto his cock. Your stomach twitched up and down, your pussy tighten as the sticky cum foamed at the base of his cock.

It was now that you had begun to actually sob— Just from being exhausted and overwhelmed. You grip the walls for support and press against it hard to keep yourself up but Percy help with you limp body. “That’s my good girl, thank you baby. Gonna fill you up now,” his voice was back to its soft and gentle tone.

Three thrust, in and out, was all it took before he unload himself into you and pushed it all the way inside you. Filling you up so much it hit your womb and he wondered how to make it stay there afterwards. He panted while you did the same, a few big breaths before hitting your head on the wall to relax.

Percy groaned and stayed inside you, his hands now trailing back up to your waist where bruises formed from his grip on you. “Did so good for me,” he whispered. You hummed and didn’t dare move or anything, probably would fall if you tried to do anything.

“I’ve been trying to stay calm around you for weeks, acting as if we aren’t actually a thing,” he rubbed the painful redness of your ass, his lips kissing your shoulders in affection. “But you’re mine, always have been and always will be. This— This just proves you’re ready to be completely mine.”

His teeth sink into your skin, not as rough as it could have been but it was surprising and painful nonetheless, “I’ll kill for you, make you happy any anyway you want. But you’re never leaving my side, or I’ll just have to put you in your place again.”

He slipped out, his cum and yours mixed while trailing down your thighs, “Just gotta fuck it into your pretty little head, but you don’t mind— Do you baby?”

There was no getting away even if you wanted to. The ends of the earth aren’t even safe from him, no god could save you now. Willing or forced, you’re his girl.

¡!Don’t repost my posts on other websites, don’t translate them, theses are for me to publish on my own!!

[v6quewrlds]

can u write a fluffy clingy joe one shot?? maybe building legos or something!! i love ur work!! i hope u have a nice day!!🫶🏾

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: here's a fluffy little palette cleanser <3

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 0.9k.

The scent of cinnamon wafted through the air as you stirred the pot of homemade hot chocolate on the stove. You glanced at the clock; it was already past six in the evening, and the darkness outside pressed against the windows like a heavy blanket.

"Joe," you began as you poured the steaming liquid into two oversized mugs, "I understand you're upset, but maybe you should take this week to recharge. Watch some movies, play some video games, do something that doesn't involve football."

Joe sighed, taking the mug from you with a nod of gratitude. "You're probably right," he admitted. "But it's hard to sit still when all I can think about is what we could be doing to fix things."

You kissed his forehead gently. "You can't control everything, Joey. Sometimes you just have to trust that things will pan out the way they're meant to." You leaned in for a quick peck, then stepped back to pick up your warm mug.

Joe sighed again, his eyes lingering on the TV that was muted in the living room, displaying highlights of the Cavs-Pelicans game. "Fine," he said finally.

You raised an eyebrow. "Fine?"

"Fine," Joe repeated, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Can we build that Lego set we got last Christmas?"

Your eyes lit up. "Seriously?" You had been dying to tackle the intricate, sprawling Star Wars that had remained in its box since Joe's brother, Dan, gifted it for Christmas. "You know I've been waiting for this moment."

Joe nodded with a hint of excitement in his voice. "Yeah, I figured it's time we put it together." He followed you to the living room, where you cleared the coffee table with a dramatic flourish.

You sat down across from each other, the instructions sprawled out between you. You picked up the instructions, your eyes scanning the pages. "Okay, we're building the Death Star," you said with a smile. "Where do we start?"

Joe leaned over, his sarcasm in full swing. "I'm surprised you remember what it is. You're the one who said it looked like a giant space donut when we opened the box."

You playfully rolled your eyes. "Hey, I know my Star Wars!" you protested. "The 4,000-piece count kind of took me by surprise, though."

Joe chuckled, sifting through the pieces. "Alright, space donut expert, let's get to it."

Your eyes were glued to the instructions, the pieces scattered around the two of you like a colorful minefield. A soft laugh filled the room as you held up a tiny Lego stormtrooper, your thumb and forefinger framing it like a photograph. "Look at this little guy," you said, grinning. "He's so cute."

"Cute? He's a symbol of imperial tyranny, babe," Joe retorted with a chuckle, earning a playful shove from you. Despite his initial hesitation, Joe was fully invested in the project. His mind was clear of the team dynamics that had consumed him all week. The Legos demanded his focus, and he gave it willingly.

You took a sip of your now lukewarm cocoa and leaned in closer to examine Joe's progress. "Looks pretty impressive," you said.

Joe glanced up, his cheeks reddening slightly. "It's just Legos," he said, but you could hear the pride in his voice.

"No, it's not just Legos," you replied, setting your mug down. "I love it when you get all focused like this for something other than football. It's cute."

Joe rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth turned up in a smile. "Cute, huh?"

You nodded. "Yeah, like a big ol' teddy bear."

"Teddy bear?" Joe scoffed, but the playful teasing had lightened his mood. "I'll have you know I'm a very intimidating Lego architect."

You couldn't help but laugh at his defensive tone. "Oh, absolutely," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm quaking in my boots."

Joe smirked and tossed a Lego at you. It bounced off your arm and you feigned injury. "Careful there, Burrow," you said, your voice full of mock pain. "You wouldn't want to hurt the one who's keeping you fed and hydrated."

"Well, you're not helping much with the whole 'keeping me hydrated' part," Joe quipped, nodding towards his nearly empty mug. "I'll need more of that hot cocoa if I'm going to get through this."

You stood up with a smile. "Your wish is my command," you said, practically skipping back to the kitchen. As you brought the pot to a boil again, you watched Joe through the archway. The stress of the season had etched lines into his face, but as he worked on the Death Star, you could see them slowly smoothing out.

When you returned with the freshly filled mug, Joe took a grateful sip and leaned back, eyeing the progress. "You know," he said thoughtfully, "I've been so caught up in work that I forgot how much I enjoy just... doing nothing."

You sat back down on the floor, your mug now steaming in your hands. "It's important to have hobbies," you agreed, your voice gentle. "Things that make you happy outside of football."

Joe nodded, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before returning to the Legos. "You're right," he murmured, his voice a mix of acceptance and regret. "I just... I want to win so badly."

You leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. "I know you do," you said softly. "And you will. But you'll have to wait a week to do it. For now, just enjoy the quiet."

[urfavoritewriter]

Sleepeating

A commission for a user who prefers to remain anonymous, I had an absolute blast writing this commission that I overshoot well past the word count. Thank you so much for commissioning me! Content: Endosoma, safe vore, belly bulge, belly noises, squirming prey, struggling prey, internal view, accidental vore, sleepwalking vore, swollen belly, round belly, casual vore, male pred, human pred, M/M, large belly, stomach noises, tight stomach, prey struggling inside, long-term vore, unwilling prey, teasing, male prey.

The room was a patchwork of sleeping arrangements—an air mattress in the corner, a pile of mismatched blankets on the floor, and a couple of sleeping bags sprawled haphazardly around the twin beds. The glow of the TV bathed the room in flickering light, an old movie playing at low volume as the group lounged in various states of relaxation. Empty snack wrappers littered the nightstand, the faint smell of buttery popcorn hanging in the air.

“Alright, rookie, rule number one,” said Greg, a wiry guy with messy brown hair and a mischievous grin. He pointed a finger at the newcomer, his tone half-joking but carrying a thread of seriousness. “Don’t. Leave. The bed. At night.”

The newcomer, Andrew, raised an eyebrow, shifting awkwardly on the makeshift bed he’d been given. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and he fidgeted with the hem of his hoodie. “Uh… why?”

Zach, the host and arguably the most relaxed of the group, leaned back on his bed, his legs sprawled out like he didn’t have a care in the world. His blonde curls fell into his eyes as he glanced at Andrew with a lazy smile. “Because Matt sleepwalks,” he said, nodding toward the tallest guy in the room, who was currently shoving the last handful of chips from a bag into his mouth.

Matt swallowed, brushing crumbs off his shirt. “I do not sleepwalk that much,” he protested, though his friends groaned in unison.

“You tried to eat Greg’s shoe last time,” said Sarah, who sat cross-legged near the TV, her black hair tied in a loose ponytail. “Like, full-on chomped it.”

“I thought it was a burrito,” Matt shot back, raising his hands defensively. His broad shoulders and tall frame made him look intimidating, but the sheepish expression on his face softened the effect.

“Dude, you licked it,” Greg added with a laugh, tossing a pillow in Matt’s direction. “That’s where all the foot fetish allegations come from.”

Andrew chuckled nervously, glancing between the group. “So… what, do I need to sleep with one eye open?”

“Nah,” Zach said, waving a hand dismissively. “Just stay in bed. You’ll be fine. Matt’s like a human vacuum when he’s out of it, but as long as you’re not walking around, he’ll leave you alone.”

Andrew didn’t look entirely convinced. “A vacuum?”

“Yeah, a hungry vacuum,” Sarah teased. “Last time he cleaned out half the fridge. And Greg’s shoe, obviously.”

Matt groaned again. “Can we not make me sound like some kind of sleepwalking menace? I’m perfectly normal most of the time.”

“Yeah, sure,” Zach said with a smirk. He grabbed the remote and flicked through the TV channels before settling on a cheesy horror movie. “Just remember, Andrew, don’t wander around if you hear anything. It’s probably just Matt.”

Andrew nodded slowly, pulling a blanket over himself. “Got it. Stay put. Avoid the hungry vacuum.”

Greg snorted. “Smart guy. You’ll survive the night.”

The group laughed, the easy banter filling the room as the movie played in the background. Matt stretched, his frame nearly brushing the ceiling, before collapsing onto his pile of blankets with a loud yawn.

“Alright, lights out soon,” Zach announced, reaching for the lamp by his bed. “Let’s try not to add any more sleepwalking incidents to the list, huh?”

Matt grumbled something incoherent, already halfway to sleep. Andrew, still a little unsure of what he’d signed up for, settled into his makeshift bed, his mind buzzing with the warnings and teasing.

The room gradually grew quieter as everyone drifted off, leaving the TV to cast faint shadows across the walls. The night stretched ahead, calm and uneventful—for now.

Andrew stirred awake to the faint creak of a door hinge. His eyes fluttered open, the dim glow of the muted TV casting flickering shadows across the room. The others were still sprawled out in their makeshift beds, their steady breathing filling the quiet with a rhythmic hum. For a moment, Andrew thought he’d dreamed the noise—until he heard another faint sound.

Crunch.

His brow furrowed. It wasn’t loud, but it was distinct, like someone biting into a cracker. Groggily, he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he scanned the room. Everyone else seemed undisturbed, bundled in blankets or sprawled carelessly. Except—he counted quickly—Matt wasn’t there. The mound of blankets that had been his bed was empty, the pillow pushed to the side.

Andrew sighed, shaking his head as the warnings from earlier echoed in his mind. Matt sleepwalks. For a moment, he considered lying back down. It wasn’t like it was his problem, right? But the faint clink of something metallic, like a fork hitting a plate, piqued his curiosity. What’s he even doing?

Carefully, Andrew swung his legs over the edge of his mattress, the cool floor sending a faint shiver through him. He tiptoed toward the door, avoiding the stray wrappers and pillows strewn about, and gently turned the knob. The hallway was dark, the faint orange glow of a nightlight at the far end barely illuminating the space. He stepped out, his socked feet making no sound against the wooden floor.

Another crunch. Then the faint sound of chewing. Andrew followed it, squinting into the darkness as he made his way toward the kitchen. The air was cooler out here, the silence broken only by the occasional creak of a floorboard beneath his weight.

As he neared the source of the sounds, the faint hum of the refrigerator reached his ears. Then another noise—a soft, wet slurp, followed by what sounded like the rustling of a bag. Andrew hesitated for a moment, his heart beating a little faster. Is he seriously eating in his sleep?

He rounded the corner into the kitchen, the faint glow from the refrigerator spilling across the tile floor. Matt was there, hunched over slightly, one hand gripping the fridge door while the other clutched a half-empty bag of chips. His tall frame loomed in the dim light, his broad shoulders casting long shadows against the wall. His head moved slowly, rhythmically, as he chewed on something, completely unaware of Andrew’s presence.

Andrew stifled a laugh. They weren’t kidding. He really is a vacuum. He stepped closer, the floor cool beneath his feet. “Matt?” he whispered, his voice low to avoid startling him.

No response.

Andrew frowned, tilting his head. Matt’s movements were slow and deliberate, like he was in a trance. He dipped his hand into the bag again, pulling out another handful of chips and shoving them into his mouth without so much as glancing around. His other hand lazily swung the fridge door shut, casting the room into near darkness except for the faint glow of the microwave clock.

“Matt,” Andrew said a little louder, stepping closer.

Still no response. Matt’s chewing continued, unhurried and oddly methodical. Andrew couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or closed in the dim light, but there was something unsettling about the way he stood there, his tall frame casting looming shadows that swayed ever so slightly with each movement.

Andrew rolled his eyes. “Alright, buddy, back to bed,” he muttered, reaching out to nudge Matt’s shoulder. “You’re gonna—”

Before he could finish the thought, Matt’s head turned sharply, and Andrew froze. His mouth still moved rhythmically, chewing, but his gaze—or lack thereof—seemed distant, unfocused. His expression was blank, almost eerie, as if he wasn’t entirely present. Andrew took a step back instinctively, his pulse quickening.

“Uh… Matt?” he said hesitantly.

Matt didn’t respond. Instead, he turned back toward the counter, setting the empty chip bag down with a slow, deliberate motion. Andrew watched, unsure of what to do, as Matt’s hand hovered over a loaf of bread, his fingers brushing it as if deciding whether to grab it next.

“Okay, this is getting weird,” Andrew muttered to himself, taking another cautious step forward. He reached out again, this time aiming to grab Matt’s arm and steer him back toward the hallway. “Come on, man, let’s—”

Matt moved suddenly, his hand shooting out with surprising speed to grip Andrew’s wrist. Andrew’s breath hitched, his body tensing as Matt’s grip tightened. For a moment, Andrew thought he’d snapped out of it—that he was awake—but then Matt’s blank expression remained unchanged, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond Andrew, as though looking through him.

“Hey, uh, Matt? You good?” Andrew stammered, his voice wavering slightly.

Matt’s grip pulled him closer, the motion slow but unrelenting. Andrew’s heart raced, the air suddenly feeling heavier as he tried to tug his arm free. But Matt’s strength was impossible to resist, his movements steady and unnervingly purposeful.

“Okay, this is not funny anymore,” Andrew muttered, trying to keep his voice calm as he stumbled forward. The faintest hint of warm breath against his neck made him freeze, and in the dim light, he caught a glimpse of Matt’s mouth opening, his jaw stretching slightly in a way that made Andrew’s stomach twist.

What the hell is he doing?

Andrew tugged harder, but Matt’s grip was like iron, and his slow, trance-like movements didn’t falter. The air was thick with tension, the quiet hum of the fridge the only sound as Andrew realized, too late, that Matt wasn’t just sleepwalking.

He was hungry.

Andrew’s heart slammed in his chest as Matt’s grip tightened around his wrist. His breath hitched as he watched Matt’s jaw part further, the glisten of his tongue catching what little light remained in the kitchen.

“Matt?” Andrew’s voice cracked, his throat dry. “Matt, what the fuck are you doing?”

Matt didn’t respond, his head dipping slightly as his tongue slid over Andrew’s arm, leaving a wet, hot trail along his skin. The sensation made Andrew recoil, a sickening mix of fear and confusion twisting in his gut. The warm, slick press of Matt’s mouth closed around his hand, the wetness enveloping him inch by inch.

“Dude. DUDE!” Andrew yelped, his voice rising in pitch as he yanked at his arm. But Matt’s grip was unyielding, pulling him further in as his lips sealed around Andrew’s forearm.

Andrew’s panic flared. “Okay, okay, stop. You’re—you’re fucking sleepeating, man.” His voice wavered, fear lacing every word. “I’m not the food you’re looking for.”

Matt didn’t flinch. His throat emitted a low, almost guttural moan as he sucked harder, the heat of his mouth traveling up Andrew’s arm. Andrew froze, the realization slamming into him. Matt wasn’t biting. He wasn’t tearing at him like some animal. No, Matt was tasting him, savoring every inch as he worked his way upward.

“You’re not serious,” Andrew whispered, his voice trembling as he felt the first tug of Matt’s throat muscles against his fingers. The slick, rhythmic pressure sent a shiver through him. “Oh my God, you are serious.”

His fear spiked as Matt tilted his head back slightly, his lips creeping past Andrew’s elbow. The tight pull of Matt’s throat was unmistakable now, the wet, swallowing sounds filling the silence. Andrew thrashed, his free hand shoving at Matt’s shoulder, his legs scrambling against the tile.

The realization hit Andrew like a brick: He’s not going to chew. He’s—he’s actually swallowing me whole.

“Let go! Fuck, Matt, stop!” Andrew yelled, his voice cracking as he pushed against Matt’s solid frame. But Matt didn’t even flinch. His other hand reached out, grabbing Andrew’s free arm and pinning it firmly at his side.

“Matt, wake up! Wake the fuck up!” Andrew’s voice was frantic now, his breathing shallow as he realized he wasn’t winning this fight. The heat of Matt’s mouth climbed higher, engulfing his bicep as his throat worked in steady, deliberate gulps.

The sound of swallowing filled Andrew’s ears, wet and unrelenting. Each gulp sent a wave of pressure rolling over his arm, pulling him deeper. The slick walls of Matt’s throat pressed tightly against his skin, the heat unbearable, as though the demon vacuum of a friend was actually pulling this off.

“No—no way,” Andrew gasped, his voice shaking as he felt his shoulder press against Matt’s lips. “You can’t—you can’t actually—” He cut off with a yelp as Matt’s jaws stretched wider, the grip around his other arm tightening as it was shoved forward to join the first.

Matt’s body shuddered, his throat rippling as he moaned softly, the sound sending a sick chill down Andrew’s spine. Andrew squirmed harder, kicking out in blind panic, but Matt’s sheer size and strength made resistance feel hopeless.

Matt’s mouth stretched further, the slick wetness of his tongue sliding up Andrew’s arms and across his collarbone. A hot, humid wave of air rushed over Andrew’s face as his head was pulled inside, the suffocating heat making his skin prickle. His heart hammered wildly as his cheek grazed one of Matt’s teeth, smooth and solid, before his tongue pressed firmly against his jawline, dragging upward.

The texture was overwhelming—slick, wet, and unnervingly soft as Matt’s tongue worked under his chin, tasting him with deliberate, almost indulgent motions. Andrew’s nose was filled with the overpowering scent of saliva mixed with the faint, salty tang of whatever Matt had been eating earlier. The smell was thick, clinging to him, and the wet sounds of Matt’s swallowing filled his ears, drowning out his frantic thoughts.

Andrew’s head tipped back as Matt’s tongue curled up around it, smearing saliva through his hair, the wetness soaking into every strand. The pressure from Matt’s teeth framed him on either side, the curve of them brushing harmlessly against his skin, a terrifying reminder of the power being exercised with such unnatural care. The rhythmic movements of Matt’s throat muscles began to pull at him, the slick walls of his gullet brushing against the top of Andrew’s head.

Matt’s throat opened wide to welcome Andrew’s head, the slick, rippling walls pulling him deeper with a relentless rhythm. The heat was overwhelming, wrapping around his face as his chin slid past the soft, yielding base of Matt’s tongue. Andrew’s breath came in shallow gasps, the humid air thick with saliva as his ears were engulfed, the world outside muffled into nothing but the wet, squelching sounds of Matt’s swallowing.

“Matt! Please!” Andrew’s voice cracked, the reality of his situation slamming into him. He wasn’t just being tasted. Matt was swallowing him whole, his slick, warm throat stretching to accommodate him inch by inch.

With a soft, satisfied moan, Matt’s lips closed over the base of Andrew’s neck, his tongue pressing firmly against his nape as he paused to savor the flavor. The tight grip of Matt’s throat muscles around Andrew’s head was unrelenting, the pressure squeezing his features as the walls flexed in slow, deliberate waves, coaxing him further down into the slick, undulating depths of Matt’s body.

Andrew’s chest heaved as his shoulders disappeared past Matt’s lips, the overwhelming heat and wetness pressing against him from all sides. The rhythmic contractions of Matt’s throat dragged him deeper, his body sliding slowly but steadily downward.

“Let me go! You can’t—stop!” Andrew cried, his voice muffled now as Matt’s throat worked around his upper body, pulling him further inside. His head tilted back instinctively, his face brushing against the slick walls as he tried to find space to breathe.

Matt’s hands moved down, gripping Andrew’s waist as he adjusted his angle, tilting his head back even further. The motion sent Andrew sliding another few inches downward, the wet pressure of Matt’s throat wrapping tighter around him.

Andrew’s voice was hoarse now, his struggles growing weaker as Matt’s stomach loomed closer. He kicked out again, his legs finding no purchase as the strength of Matt’s throat muscles overpowered him.

Matt’s moan was louder this time, his hands gripping Andrew’s hips firmly as he tilted his head back once more, his jaws working over the final stretch of Andrew’s torso. The wet gulping sounds grew louder, more insistent, as Matt’s body adjusted to the bulk now sliding into his belly.

Andrew’s heart pounded wildly as the realization hit him in full force: Matt wasn’t stopping. He wasn’t waking up. And soon, he would be completely inside.

Matt’s lips stretched wide as Andrew’s chest passed through, the tight heat of his throat squeezing Andrew’s arms together and forcing them deeper into the belly below. The slick walls of Matt’s esophagus massaged him downward, inch by inch, the steady, relentless contractions making Andrew’s struggles futile. His muffled voice rose in panicked protests, but the pressure around him drowned out all but faint, garbled sounds.

Andrew’s wrists were the first to breach the stomach, the shift in temperature unmistakable as his hands entered a tight, churning space. The walls were slick and undulating, pressing in on him with rhythmic movements that kept him immobilized. His fingers twitched, brushing against half-digested food, the texture both slimy and unrecognizable. Crumbs of chips, something soft that might have been bread—it all surrounded him in the claustrophobic chamber.

“Matt!” Andrew’s muffled voice wavered, his wrists flicking helplessly as he tried to push back against the walls, but the unyielding stomach held him tight. The low gurgling noises grew louder, echoing in his ears as Matt’s body welcomed more of him inside.

From the outside, Matt’s stomach began to expand visibly, the taut skin rounding out with each inch of Andrew’s upper body. The bulge of his shoulders slid into Matt’s chest, making his throat stretch impossibly wide for a moment before the mass moved downward. Matt’s belly swelled larger, the distinct outline of Andrew’s arms faintly visible beneath the skin before they were engulfed by the folds of Matt’s stomach.

With another deep swallow, Matt worked past Andrew’s waist, his powerful throat muscles dragging him down steadily. Andrew’s head and shoulders entered the belly, the space impossibly tight as the walls pressed against him from all sides. He could feel the heat intensify, the air thick and humid, the noises of digestion surrounding him in a way that made it impossible to think.

“Matt! Let me—ugh—out!” Andrew’s voice was barely audible now, his movements weak and restricted as Matt’s stomach continued to stretch. The taut curve of Matt’s belly shifted with Andrew’s struggles, faint ripples moving across the surface as Matt leaned back slightly, savoring the sensation of fullness.

The bulge of Andrew’s hips reached Matt’s lips, and with one final, deliberate gulp, Matt began to take in his legs. The weight in his stomach grew heavier with each inch, the mass pressing firmly outward and rounding his belly into a large, pronounced dome. The elastic waistband of his shorts struggled to stay in place, the fabric digging into the curve of his swollen abdomen.

Andrew’s feet kicked faintly as they slid closer to Matt’s maw, but the demon vacuum of a friend was unrelenting. Another deep swallow brought Andrew’s thighs past his lips, and with a final, wet gulp, Matt’s jaws closed over Andrew’s feet. He tilted his head back one last time, his throat bulging as the remaining length of Andrew disappeared inside him.

The last of Andrew slid down, his curled legs folding into the cramped confines of Matt’s belly. The stomach expanded further, the tight skin visibly rippling as Andrew shifted and pushed against the walls. From the outside, Matt’s gut was enormous, the round shape jutting forward and shaking slightly with Andrew’s struggles. The once-faint sounds of digestion were now louder, a chorus of gurgles and sloshes as Matt’s stomach worked to accommodate its living occupant.

Matt let out a low, satisfied groan, his hands resting on the massive swell of his belly. The weight pressed down on his thighs as he adjusted his position, leaning back slightly against the counter. His fingers traced the outline of the bulge, faintly visible movements beneath the surface making him chuckle softly in his sleep.

Inside, Andrew squirmed, his body contorted in the tight, sweltering chamber. The heat and pressure were overwhelming, the rhythmic contractions of Matt’s stomach keeping him firmly in place. His muffled protests barely registered as Matt shifted, patting his belly with one hand, causing the entire dome to jiggle slightly.

From the outside, Matt’s gut was impossibly round, shaking faintly as Andrew’s movements stirred the contents within. The sight was surreal—a massive, bloated belly rising and falling with Matt’s steady breaths, the occasional ripple betraying the fact that someone was still awake and aware inside. With a faint snore, Matt leaned back further, completely oblivious to the chaos within his oversized stomach as the night stretched on.

The sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting golden streaks across the living room as the soft murmur of the TV played in the background. Most of the group had already gathered, sprawled across the couches and chairs in various states of morning grogginess. The smell of coffee lingered faintly in the air, mingling with the scent of leftover snacks from the night before.

“Dude, you have to see this,” Greg said, barely stifling his laughter as he pointed toward the couch. “Matt’s��� uh, looking a little heavier this morning.”

Zach, sipping from a steaming mug, leaned over the back of his chair and raised an eyebrow. “Holy shit, Matt. You pack the fridge in there or what?”

All eyes turned toward the corner of the room, where Matt sat reclined on the couch, one arm draped lazily over the massive swell of his gut, the other scrolling casually through his phone. His belly was enormous, rounded and taut, rising and falling slightly with his breaths. It shook faintly every few moments, ripples traveling across the surface as muffled movements from inside caused the entire dome to wobble.

“Morning,” Matt said, barely looking up from his phone. His voice was casual, almost bored, as though this were just another day. He gave his belly a light pat, the sound echoing faintly in the room.

“Morning? That’s all you’ve got?” Sarah snorted, her eyes wide as she gestured toward his gut. “Are we not gonna talk about that?”

Matt finally glanced up, his expression unfazed. “Oh, this?” He gave his belly another pat, his hand sinking into the firm curve before it wobbled under his touch. “Yeah. I think I, uh… picked something up last night.”

From within, a faint, muffled voice was just barely audible. “Matt! What the hell’s going on? Let me out!” The bulge shook again, Andrew’s movements sending another ripple through the bloated surface.

“Oh my God, is that Andrew?” Greg burst out laughing, nearly spilling his coffee as he doubled over. “You ate him?”

“I didn’t eat him,” Matt said, his tone defensive but still nonchalant. “I was sleepwalking. He probably shouldn’t have been wandering around anyway.”

“Classic Matt,” Zach said, shaking his head with a grin. He grabbed a bag of chips from the counter and tossed it onto Matt’s belly. The bag bounced slightly before settling. “Can’t keep track of what goes in, huh?”

“Apparently not,” Matt muttered, giving his stomach a gentle rub as it gurgled faintly. Another ripple moved across the surface as Andrew shifted inside, his muffled protests drowned out by the low, groaning sounds of the packed belly.

“You’ll get out eventually, Andrew!” Sarah called out, her voice teasing as she leaned back against the armrest. “It’s just, uh… not as easy getting things out of Matt as it is getting them in.”

The group erupted into laughter, and even Matt couldn’t suppress a small chuckle, his hand absently stroking the round swell of his gut. “Yeah, you might be in there for a bit,” he admitted, his voice casual. “But hey, you seem comfy enough.”

“Comfy?” Andrew’s muffled voice rose again, frustration clear even through the thick walls of Matt’s stomach. “It’s cramped, it’s hot, and I’m—ugh! Stop laughing!”

“Sorry, man,” Zach said, his tone anything but apologetic as he tossed a pillow onto Matt’s stomach. “It’s just… you’re part of the crew now. Matt’s version of a warm welcome.”

Sarah shook her head, grinning. “Andrew, if it makes you feel better, you’re not the first thing Matt’s eaten in his sleep. Just, uh, definitely the biggest.”

Greg chimed in, smirking. “And the loudest. Dude, that belly’s been shaking all morning.”

The group’s laughter filled the room again, and even Andrew seemed to give up on protesting, his movements slowing inside the tight confines of Matt’s stomach. Matt, unbothered, leaned back further into the couch, his phone still in hand as he stretched his legs out lazily.

“Well,” Matt said, his voice calm as ever, “I guess we’re all set for breakfast… and entertainment.”

Another round of laughter erupted, and the room settled into a comfortable rhythm, the group teasing and chatting as Matt lounged with his oversized, animated belly. Andrew shifted slightly inside, grumbling muffled protests, but the group’s lighthearted energy made it clear—this was all just another part of the fun.