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yuukiiqwq · 9 months ago

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Satoru Gojo, the strongest, who cared only about dominating the court suddenly cared only about you. Him and his team were practicing for a game next week in the school gym when he noticed you sitting among the crowd of spectators. Whenever him and his team practice, the students in school will always come watch in their free time. He recognized some familiar faces, but you, he doesn't recognize you. He had never seen you here before, and something about you dragged his attention towards you.

Satoru, who never misses a shot when he has his hand on the ball, suddenly misses? Dead silence. His team stared at him with confusion and disbelief that the Satoru Gojo missed a shot. His best friend and teammate, Suguru, came up to him with concern in his eyes and asked– "Are you alright, Satoru?"

Satoru runs his hand through his hair and huffed out a fine to his best friend. What the fuck just happened to him? Must have been a fluke he said to himself as his eyes wandered towards the crowd who was gossiping about his failed shot. His eyes then wandered towards you who was staring right at him. His eyes widen when you caught him staring at you before quickly turning away. His heart racing in his chest in an uncontrollable pace. He noticed Suguru and his teammates still staring at him with concern in their eyes.

"C'mon, let's continue practice," he sighs. "I just got distracted. It won't happen again."

The team was reluctant to continue practice because no matter how distracted Gojo was, he had never missed a shot. He could practically play a game with his eyes closed and not miss, but all of a sudden, he missed? As practice continued, Satoru made no other mistakes. He didn't miss again, but every time he scores, his eyes always end up wandering towards you.

Fuck. What the fuck is happening to him? Why can't he stop his eyes from going towards you whenever he scores? Why is he so focused on the way your eyes light up in awe as he makes every shot? The way you wet your soft looking lips with your tongue as you stood at the edge of your seat. You were a sinful sight to behold.

When practice ended, Satoru quickly left the court to go to the locker room. As he pushed past his teammates, he noticed their confused expression. Their confusion was understandable because, normally, Satoru would be the last one to their locker room. Satoru loves attention, so he would always give out fan services when practice or a game ends. However, this time, Satoru was quickly pushing open the gym door to escape, and his eyes wander towards you one last time before completely exiting the gym. He doesn't like what he's feeling right now. It was suffocating, but it's ok, right? Today was just a one-time thing. Oh, how wrong he was.

Since that day, he noticed that you always were there during their practice. He knows you're not from his school because of your uniform, so who exactly were you? Who allowed you in? And why is it that he couldn't get enough of you? Why did you suddenly show up in his life out of nowhere?

Satoru sat down on the bench as the other continued the practice game, wiping his sweat with his towel as he secretly watched you. You who had his under some kind of spell. You who he hasn't spoken one word to since the day he saw you. He wanted you to say his name. Hear the syllables of his name come out of your soft looking lips. Gojo wasn't dumb. He just likes pretending to be, so it doesn't help that he knew exactly what was going on with him. He knew what he was feeling, and it was downright stupid. Fuck love at first sight. It shouldn't exist. He shouldn't want to kiss you. He doesn't even know your name! He groans as he run his hand through his hair again. He curse at himself before he felt something cold touch his cheeks.

"What caught your eyes, Captain?"

Satoru took the water bottle from Shoko's hand and took a big sip. "What are you doing here, Shoko? Don't you have that medical test or whatever to study for?"

Shoko rolled her eyes at his comment– "That was yesterday Gojo. So are you just going to ignore my question? Clearly, something is up for you to miss your shot a few days ago."

"No idea what you're talking about," Satoru replied as he fixed his hair. "Didn't miss nothing."

"Right. It's not like the whole school was gossiping about you missing for the first time."

"These people and their big mouths..." He mumbles. Funny coming from him since he himself would have done the same if the situation was flipped.

Shoko looked toward the place Gojo was eyeing and then saw you. She blinked once and then looked back at Gojo before huffing out a small laugh. Someone is going to be in for a surprise.

"That's his sister, y'know?"

"Not funny, Shoko," Satoru said before looking at Shoko's expression. She was serious. You and your brother look nothing alike. He sighs before mumbling a curse under his breath.

"Oh fuck indeed," Shoko laughs again as she turned towards the gym door. "Going to need some sweets?"

"Yeah, I'll pay you back later."

"Free of charge today. My compensation for this free entertainment. It's going to be an interesting few days." Satoru was now left to his own thoughts. He couldn't help but sigh at his predicament.

Satoru never got the chance to speak to you. Whenever he tries to go towards you, he stops and turns away. He couldn't help but be nervous when it comes to you. It's not his fault that he thinks he'll faint from hearing your voice. He'll talk to you one day when the opportunity arises. It seems fate had granted him his wish. Satoru had met you outside one morning right before his team game. You had accidentally bumped into him while rushing.

"Ouch!" You rubbed your nose from the sudden collision before looking up at him with your innocent and beautiful eyes. Oh fuck. Your voice was music to his ears. He just gone to heaven and what made it even worse was how you looked. Why the fuck do you look so pretty this early in the morning? He himself could barely get out of bed for today's game. His hair is messy and all over the place. His shirt is not all the way buttoned, and his tie is hanging loosely over his neck. If he didn't have a game today, he would be at school getting scold. He just looked like a mess compared to you. Sure, he is a hot mess right now, but this was not the impression he wanted to give when he talked to you. He listened to your endless apologies before interrupting with a question.

"You coming to the game?"

"Huh?" You stopped your apologies at his sudden question before his question clicked. You didn't know he noticed you during his practices. Your eyes instantly light up and grab his hand. "Yes, I am! I'm very excited since it's my first time witnessing a game! I've been to your practice for a while because of my brother's invitation. Oh, my brother is–"

As you continued your rambling, Satoru's eyes were fixated on the fact that you were holding his hands. Your small and soft hand holding his. He stopped your rambling by taking your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. An intimate act. You looked up at him in confusion, and before you could say anything, he was tugging you along.

"Making sure you don't get lost on the way. Let's walk together to the stadium." An excuse to keep your hand in his even though you were practically strangers. He made sure you couldn't let go.

When the two of you finally arrived at the stadium, he had to let you go. He didn't want to let go, but he had to go towards the locker room so he could change into his game uniform.

"Name is Satoru Gojo. Call me Satoru. Let's hang out after the game today." He then brought your hand towards his lips and kissed it. His eyes moved up towards your eyes, holding your gaze as he whispered– "Keep your eyes on me." He then quickly left towards the locker room, his ears burning from his sudden boldness. While he can dominate the court, you have dominated his heart.

When he entered the locker room, his team was already getting ready for the big games. He quickly went to his locker beside his best friend and started to undress his school uniform. Suguru was already ready for the game, so he was sitting on the bench in the locker room, drinking some water.

"I'm in love with your sister," Satoru blurted out, causing Suguru to immediately spit out the water he was drinking. Confusion and disbelief were written all over his face.

"What?"

Part 2

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wyniepooh · 8 months ago

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Closer

you thought that you were already close with patrick and art; turns out, you could get even closer.

Boardingschool!patrick & boardingschool!art x boardingschool!reader.

it’s no secret that the three of you were close.

Everyone at school acknowledges it by joking that you’re practically their manager, because you’re on the bleachers at every practice, seated front row at every match, and the second the games finishes (usually in their favour), the first person they go running to is you.

in fact, you're all so close that you've developed a habit to follow them into the locker room after every practice. if anyone ever questioned your entry into the room, they’d both chime at the same time: “she’s ours.”

neither of them bat an eye when you sit down on the bench between the metal lockers and watch them get changed because it’s you, their little manager, and they didn’t ever hide anything from you.

You’d read them the daily school news, explain the daily school gossip, and update them on any homework they missed in the name of tennis practice. they’d thank you in their typical ways by ruffling your hair and throwing their sweaty shirts on you before sandwiching you in a suffocating hug.

You shriek and laugh and say, ‘stop it!’ but really, you’re too focused on the feel of their bare chests against you— slippery from sweat and hot from the heat— to care about anything else.

There’s always a brief moment after all the amusement when the laughter dissipates and you’re all just staring at each other. Your smile fades, and suddenly you’re painfully aware of their rapid breaths rising against you on either side, and the heat of it all fills the silent air with something else other than just audible breaths.

Today it’s patrick who looks over to art first, who returns his stare with pressed lips. you catch a flicker of something in their eyes, but they looked away before you could decipher it. However, it was clear that a silent agreement had been reached right in front of you. you suspect that for the first time since you transferred to the school, they were hiding something from you.

patrick breaks the silence first, turning slightly away from you to gently close his locker as he murmurs, “you know, there have been a lot of rumours on campus lately.”

You scoffed, stuffing your agenda into your bag before smoothing a hand over your hair. ��Really? What kind of rumours?”

Patrick shrugged. He pulled a shirt over his shoulders, nodding his head towards art. “Rumours about us, mostly. Tell her, art.”

art purses his lips multiple rimes before speaking. “It’s just trash talk,” he pauses. patrick glances over to him one more time, flashing him a subtle glare before art finally continues, “there's talk about how the three of us are suspiciously close, or whatever.”

“I guess it’s not so much a rumour as it is true,” you responded. You tilted your head towards them both, eyes squinting with humour as you questioned, “you guys do consider us close, right? I mean, after all I do for you guys, I’m honestly glad that people are speculating and starting to appreciate my efforts.”

“It’s just,” Patrick turns back around, shuffling his feet to sit down across from you on the bench with legs on either side of the wooden plank. His hands are gathered in the middle, fingers attempting to itch closer and closer to your own without you seeing.

“We could be a lot closer, you know.”

You raised an eyebrow at Patrick’s sneaky hands, a slight smile still intact on your face as you asked, “How close can we get, pat? There’s a limit to everything. Even the sky.”

“he’s right.”

You almost jump at the sudden voice you hear in your ear. you cleared your throat as he slid closer towards your back. Art mirrored Patrick’s movements with legs on either side of the bench, but his hands fiddled with the edge of your hoodie as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“We could be a lot closer.”

You observed the way art pressed his lips together, snuggling his face into the side of your neck as Patrick’s thumb rubbed circles on your hand. you hadn’t even registered that patrick was now grinning, guilding your unsuspecting hand towards his dark curls.

You instinctively wrap your fingers around his wet hair, and you almost gasp when you hear patrick whimper. He pants heavily against your wrist, lips tickling the tender skin as he breathes, “why don’t you come over to our dorm after class?”

You shake your head, dropping your hand from his head. “I don’t think-“

“Please,” art whispers against your neck.

You close your eyes, sucking on the inside of your cheek as you sighed deeply. For a beat, you simply listen to the sound of their synced breathing, taking in the familiar smell of the locker room, and the familiar smell of them. When you open your eyes again, Patrick and art are both eagerly staring at you, pleading with silence.

You suddenly laugh, smiling uncontrollably as you lean back against art and pull patrick closer by the hand that is still wrapped around yours. patrick gladly scooches closer until his nose is practically rubbing against yours, and he returns your laughter with a chuckle of his own.

“Okay,” you mutter while glancing back at art, whose mouth was agape with something adjacent to shock.

“so let’s get closer.”

a/n: “why don’t u come over to our-“ bags r packed.

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svnriseblvdd · 8 days ago

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neighbour! clark kent x new girl! reader

the highly requested expansion on this post, in which your neighbour clark kent is so helpful, and so adorably awkward that you can't help but tease him.

mildly suggestive, mdni

part one! part two!

Your parents decided to move out of the city to this small, unknown farming town for whatever reason. You're in a new place, no friends, nothing to do. Then your mother sends you to pick up a food order from a nearby farm. Thinking about Mrs Kent calling for her son Clark to come help you with all these heavy boxes and bags and this gorgeous 6-foot-something boy comes out all tall and muscular with the sweetest smile. He's in that tight white t-shirt and jeans with a belt combo, tied together with that boyish charm that has you nearly swooning as he comes over.

“Hey, mom.”

“Can you help carry all of this? I don't want her struggling all the way home.”

You think that a long walk like that with someone as pretty as Clark Kent might kill you. “Oh really, Mrs Kent-” Mrs Kent gives you a look “- Martha, it's not a problem. I don't live that far, I think I can do it.”

“No, no, I insist. Clark will help you.”

You look to Clark and offer a smile which he returns. Oh, he's far too cute. You're pretty sure your heart is close to bursting out of your chest. Damn the Kents and their hot-as-hell farmboy son. Damn Smallville for thrusting this man upon you. Damn the powers that be for dangling him in front of you, teasing you with his existence.

“Thank you, Martha,” you say, and she nods with a smile before heading back inside with a goodbye and a well-wish.

Clark bends down to grab the crates, which he stacks on top of each other, ladening his arms with bags as well, leaving a very small percentage of the order to be carried by you. “Uh, I can take some of that if you-”

“No, totally fine. It’s not that heavy.”

Your eyebrows raise, eyes briefly flitting down to look at his biceps, now flexed and really pressing against the confines of his sleeves. Then you blink back to reality and bend down to pick up the other bags, beginning the walk with Clark at your side.

“I’m Clark, by the way,” he introduces himself, and you give him your name. “Right, you guys just moved here from Central City?”

“Yeah, how did you-”

“Not much really passes for gossip around here. So, how are you liking Smallville?”

“Oh, it’s great. Real party town. Cream corn capital of the world, I hear,” you remark sarcastically, and Clark chuckles, shaking his head. “No, it’s definitely a change of pace. Not exactly a totally welcome one, but I don’t think it can get much worse.”

“Are you not settling in?”

“Oh, I’m settled. Totally. Just that it’s not really easy being in a new place and knowing nobody.”

“Well, now you’ve got me.”

“Oh, do I now?”

“Yeah.”

“I could be a horrible person, Clark. You can’t just go around letting total strangers into your life like this.”

He shrugs. “You know, I think it’d be a little more obvious if you were evil.”

You hold up a finger. “I didn’t say evil, just horrible.”

“Well, I don’t think you’re horrible either. I’d like to think I have a pretty good sense for these things.”

“Yeah, well. You can never be too careful around complete strangers.”

“I’m pretty sure I could handle myself if you turned out to be a serial killer or a bandit or something,” Clark says.

You eye his physique again. “Yeah, probably. I mean, what do you bench, a tractor?” Clark laughs a little awkwardly, and you feel yourself turning hot with embarrassment. “Sorry. I wasn’t - I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, and I wasn’t checking you out or anything. It’s just that you’re very noticeably strong.”

He gives another one of those charming smiles. “Don’t worry, you’re okay.”

Somehow, it seems Clark is more embarrassed by the situation than you are.

And when you finally reach your house, and Clark helps carry everything inside, you decide to test something.

You’re putting away something in a low cupboard, bending at the waist, ass right in front of him, and when you stand straight and turn around, Clark has turned a bright shade of red and avoids eye contact as best as possible.

And before he leaves, you voice your gratitude, going above and beyond to tell him that you’re so grateful for him being there to help. “Thank you so much, Clark. You were so helpful. Just let me know how I can return the favour, I’ll help any way I can.”

And then you’re giving him a hug, a kiss on the cheek, and a happy goodbye, watching him leave with empty crates and a blush on his cheeks. He’s far too cute.

You like Clark Kent. Not just because of his smile or his biceps or eyes or hair. Because he’s kind, funny, and oh so helpful. It doesn’t hurt that you also like how he turns red.

#muse: clark #smalllville clark kent x reader #smallville clark kent #clark kent x reader #clark kent imagine #clark kent smut

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spectorgram · 8 months ago

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eyes wide open

pairing: theodore nott x f! reader summary: you discover that there is so much more to theodore nott than you thought. content: gryffindor! reader, semi-nsfw (characters are 18+) word count: 5.46k

You have never spoken to Theodore Nott before. You’ve him around a lot, usually with Mattheo Riddle or Lorenzo Berkshire, and he is a regular on the quidditch team — a chaser — so you’d see him zoom by during matches. He’s also in a majority of your classes for this year, which lets you observe him from afar. But past that, you’ve never really had much to do with him beyond seeing him with Malfoy and witnessing how he stands quietly — with either a small smirk or a look of complete apathy on his face — while Malfoy and your friends argue back and forth.

Having class with Theodore Nott has let you learn three things about him: he’s quiet, whip-sharp, and unbelievably handsome. You didn’t need classes with him to know the last one is a well-known fact; he’s constantly noted as one of the most attractive of your classmates. “Shame he’s a Slytherin,” Lavender Brown once said to you, which had made you roll your eyes and retort, “And what’s wrong with that?” It had gotten you into a big fight and you don’t think she’s spoken to you since, not that you’ve really wanted her to.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Ron asks you as he, Hermione, Harry, and Ginny stand at the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. “Mum would love to have you. She’s always banging on about what a lovely girl you are and how polite you were.”

“And I’m sure Fred would love to see you,” Ginny adds.

You snort, “I’m really sure. But please give my regards to your mother and Fred.”

“Will do,” Ginny says with a two-finger salute.

Your friends say their farewells as they leave through the portrait hall. You flop against the plush velvet of the couch, staring at the roaring fire. Your parents were on a months-long that brought them to see famous wizarding landmarks so you’re stuck at Hogwarts for the holiday. You’re a little disappointed that you won’t be with your family but another part of you is excited to be in the castle when it’s less populated. You’ll finally get to make your way through the massive pile of books you have at your bedside since you’re usually caught up in listening to and gossiping with your roommates.

You head up to your room, empty except for you and your owl hooting in his cage. You wiggle your fingers inside, Ramses rubbing his feathery head against them. You grab the first book from the top of your pile, turning the leather-bound edition over in your hand. Hermione gifted it to you for your last birthday: William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. You shimmy into your gold and red striped sweater and tuck the book underneath your arm, walking down to the dining hall for dinner.

Students are scattered around the Great Hall, some chattering with their friends while others eat silently. The ceiling has shifted to depict a clear night sky, floating candles casting an orange glow. You spot Mattheo Riddle alone at the Slytherin tables but the way he keeps looking to the door makes you assume he’s waiting for a friend. You settle down on a bench all to yourself, piling your plate with the mouthwatering selections available to you.

You rest your chin on your fist, cracking open the play. You get only a few pages in when you hear a familiar low voice. “All alone, little lion?” His eyes examine you and you suddenly feel too exposed despite your layers.

You come face-to-face with Theodore Nott and his sea blue eyes. He regards you coolly and you ask, “Can I help you, Nott?”

He points at your copy of Romeo and Juliet. “Where’d you get that?”

You furrow your brow in confusion. Why in Godric’s name is Theodore Nott of all people interested in a Muggle book. You respond, “Hermione gave it to me. Why?”

“It’s hard to find Muggle books here,” he says. His eyes linger on the play. “Think I could borrow it when you’re finished?”

Your brain stalls, questions floating around your head. “Sure,” you finally answer. He nods and neither of you say anything more. The quiet that falls between you two makes you tense and you say, “Is that all, Nott?”

He considers and then says, “I think so.” He heads to the Slytherin tables without another word, sitting beside Mattheo, who’s been watching on keenly. You catch his stare and he smirks, raising a hand in a casual wave. Theodore smacks his shoulder and pulls Mattheo’s hand down.

You sigh, shake your head in disbelief, and go back to reading the play.

It’s been a few days since your encounter with Theodore, but the interaction sticks with you. Every time you open up the play, you’re reminded of it and your curiosity returns tenfold.

It’s odd being at school when it’s this empty. You’ve managed to occupy yourself by playing Wizard’s Chess with some fifth years, helping Professor Flitwick organize his classroom and the Frog Choir’s practice room, and working on knitting gifts to give you friends when they return.

You’re sitting in the Gryffindor common room, working on Harry’s scarf, when you spill a cup of tea one of the house elves had made for you. Cursing, you move your knitting out of the way and survey the damage to your sweatshirt. With a groan, you gather your things and bring them to your dorm, blotting out the growing stain with water and letting it dry over the edge of the bathtub.

You slip into a forest green sweater and throw a brown corduroy jacket over it. You grab your copy of Romeo and Juliet and head down to the Black Lake. The cold breezes nip at your cheek and carries the scent of pine trees, which you inhale gratefully. You plop yourself underneath a tree on the shore of the lake, reclining against the trunk and cracking open the book.

You’re not even a page in when you hear a familiar voice call your name. Your hold on your book tightens but you peer up, watching Theodore approach. He’s in a dark wool overcoat and similarly dark trousers, hands tucked into his coat pockets. His strides are leisurely and long, reaching you in only a handful of steps.

He stands tall in front of you, shadow cast long in the afternoon sun. His gaze roams over you and he says, “Isn’t wearing green considered treacherous for you?”

You’re confused for a second before you follow his line of sight and glance down at your own sweater. Right. You reply, “No more than it would be for you to wear red.”

The corner of his lip twitches up in a small, half-smile and he says, “High treason then.”

You echo your words from earlier in the week: “Can I help you, Nott?”

He ignores your question, instead choosing to tip his chin at your book. “What part are you at?”

“Mercutio’s died in his duel with Tybalt.”

He nods and recites, “‘A plague o’ both your houses. They have made worms’ meat of me: I have it, and soundly too: your houses.’”

You don’t bother to hide your surprise. “You’ve read it?”

“Haven’t most people?”

“Sure, most people know the story but they don’t usually read it.

“I’ve read it a couple of times,” he admits. He adds, “My mother’s favorite book.”

“I see. Is that why you want to borrow it from me?”

“Yeah.”

Silence falls between the pair of you. Distantly, there’s a cry of crows. Theodore is still standing above you, gazing down, and you squirm a little. He then says, “I always liked Benvolio.”

You’re reminded that Theodore’s half-Italian in the way he says ‘Benvolio,’ accent smooth and lilting. It suddenly feels a little too warm under your coat but you ignore it. You instead blurt out, “Of course you would. You’re kind of like him.”

Theodore raises one eyebrow and you feel your face heat even more, embarrassed, and you hope he doesn’t take it as a bad thing. He doesn’t seem offended though and asks, “Oh, how so?”

“I mean,” you say, “you are— well, you seem like the most reasonable of your friends. A mediator of some sort.”

“That sounds about right,” he says. “You remind me of Juliet.”

“Really? Why’s that?” You’re not sure if you should take it as a good thing or not.

“Well, she has a solid set of beliefs and stands up for them. She knows herself; she tells her parents that she doesn’t want to marry Paris, not just because she’s in love with Romeo but also because she knows she’ll be unhappy. What is it she says? ‘Now, by Saint Peter’s Church, and Peter too, he shall not make me there a joyful bride! I wonder at this haste, that I must wed ere he that should be husband comes to woo.’”

Theodore’s mouth lifts in a tiny, lopsided smile again and he says, “Plus, she’s the one most of the guys fawn over, right?”

You’re left to gape at him in shock and awe, processing what he just said as he turns and walks back to the castle along the shore, just outside the gentle lapping of the water. You watch his retreating figure, watch as he grows smaller and smaller and eventually disappears.

You don’t get much reading done, the book remaining open in your lap and your eyes fixed on the spot where Theodore once stood.

You sit there until the top curve of the sun is just peeking out over the horizon and you stand, still a tad dazed, and make your long walk back to Hogwarts.

It’s just past one in the morning and you can’t sleep, tossing and turning fitfully. Theodore Nott and his long shadow and his blue eyes keep appearing behind your eyelids, no matter how much you try to shove the thoughts out. You want to bang your head on one of the wooden poles holding up the canopy of your four-poster bed, but you opt for sliding on your slippers and going down to the kitchens to see if the house elves have any leftover brownies from dinner. Maybe they could warm up a mug of hot cocoa for you too.

You shuffle through the hallway, the chill of the castle waking you up. You rub your hands along your arms, wishing you had worn something over your pajamas. Since it’s break, restrictions about when and where students could go are essentially non-existent. You pass Filch, who scowls at you, clearly aggrieved that he can’t punish you for being out of bed, and Nearly-Headless Nick, who greets you cheerfully and questions you as to why you’re up at such a time. “Can’t sleep,” you explain. “I’m checking if the elves have any midnight snacks for me.”

He chuckles, “An excellent reason but don’t stay up too late, or you’ll wind up like me!” He laughs hard at his joke and you can’t help but giggle, bidding him a goodnight as you descend into the basement.

You nearly run right into Theodore as you approach the kitchens. You jump at least a foot, clasping your hands over your chest. “Merlin’s beard, you scared me!”

“Could say the same for you,” he says. “Nice pajamas.”

You forgot you were in a tank top and shorts. You cross your arms and say, “You seem awfully fixated on my clothes, Nott.” You try to look as threatening as you can but the slight tremble to your body takes away any effect.

Theodore rolls his eyes and slides the robe he donned over his striped pajamas off, holding it out to you. When you don’t take it, he just throws it over your shoulders, the weight comfortable and warm. You say, “You keep popping up out of nowhere. Are you stalking me or something?”

He snorts, “You would never know if I was. But no, Mattheo’s snoring kept me up. I figured I should take advantage of my insomnia and grab some brownies from dessert.”

“Great minds think alike then,” you say.

You and Theodore walk down the corridor towards the kitchen when he asks, “Have you finished the book?”

“No, didn’t get a lot of reading done after you left.”

“Did I distract you that much?” He looks smug, smirking, and it’s your turn to roll your eyes.

“In your dreams.”

“Yeah,” he says. “When do you think you’ll finish?”

“Bloody hell, you’re impatient,” you groan, rubbing your temples. You’re not sure what possesses you, if it’s your sleep-deprived brain or something else but you suggest, “How about this? You grab brownies and cocoa for us and I’ll get the damn book and we’ll meet in the Clock Tower and read it together.”

Theodore considers it for a moment before he says, “Alright. I’ll meet you there in fifteen.”

“Perfect.” You scurry back to the Gryffindor dorms. Nearly-Headless Nick queries as to where your snacks are but you don’t answer, moving swiftly. You enter your dorm room, only pausing for a moment to catch your breath. Your heart is pounding but you can’t tell if it’s from the journey or from the thought of sitting alone in the Clock Tower with Theodore Nott. You don’t let yourself dwell on it and you pick up Romeo and Juliet and climb the stairs to the Clock Tower.

Theodore has beaten you there, already sitting up against the glass of the clock. The frost on the glass obstructs some of the moonbeams streaming in but it’s just enough light to read. In the moonlight, Theodore’s hair looks lighter and more burnt golden than brown. He takes a sip of his cocoa and holds out a ceramic mug to you as you settle next to him. You accept it gratefully, plucking a brownie from the plate between you two.

You flip through the play to find where you left off, the page dog-earred. Theodore makes a sound at the back of his throat. “What?”

“Don’t you have a bookmark or something?”

“No. Leave my marking choices out of it.”

He snickers and leans over you to get a better look at the text. Your shoulders brush and you’re all too aware that he smells of chocolate and sandalwood. His smell is clean and distinct; his robe smells like that too.

As you two begin to read, Theodore tells you to turn back or move forward. You eventually figure out a rhythm, knowing exactly when to do so. You’re about ten minutes into reading when you feel Theodore’s gaze on you. You remain still, wondering if he’ll stop but when he doesn’t you mumble, “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Staring.” “Does it bother you?”

“It feels like you can see into my soul.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Does it bother you?”

You pause. “I don’t… I don’t know.” A beat. “Why are you?”

“Why am I what?”

“Staring at me.”

His voice drops, somehow deeper than you have ever heard it. “Because I like to.”

Your head whips to him but no words leave your mouth. He regards you carefully and asks again, “Does that bother you?”

You hesitate. Then, “No, it doesn’t.”

He hums and you think he’ll do… something but he just ducks his head back down to read and you let out of the breath you didn’t know you were holding, disappointment pooling in your stomach. You don’t know what you wanted him to do. You don’t know why you’re disappointed.

You two read until your eyes grow heavy. You struggle to keep your lids open, head jolting up when you realize you’re drifting off. Theodore taps your shoulder and says, “We can stop here. Pick up another time.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, standing and stretching. You stifle a yawn and remember you have his robe on. You begin to take it off but he says, “Keep it. You can give it back tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, tomorrow. Same time, same place?”

“Okay.”

It doesn’t take you long to finish the play with Theodore only two days later. You noticed that Theodore read slower than before, telling you multiple times per session to go back a couple of pages.

Your eyes follow the last line: For never was a story of more woe / Than this of Juliet and her Romeo, and you close the book with a dull thump. You sit in silence with Theodore, listening to the clock hand turn to the next minute. You stay like that for a while. You sip on the spiced hot chocolate the house elves prepared for you. You share sugar cookies with Theodore that are shaped like snowflakes.

“So,” you start, breaking the silence, “this is your mother’s favorite book?”

He nods. “I think she read it a lot when her parents arranged for her to marry my father.”

“Oh.” You don’t know what else to say, adding lamely, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Silence.

“Can I ask you something?” you ask.

“Yeah.”

“Why did you stay here over break?”

He stiffens, expression unreadable. He glances over at you and finally sighs. “My father’s trial is happening right around now. My family doesn’t want any of the kids around this so…” He motions to the Clock Tower, adding, “My siblings are either at their own schools or with my grandmother.”

Your heart aches at the frown on his face and you bite the inside of your cheek, unsure of how to proceed. You’re thankful when Theodore moves on. “What about you?”

“Oh, my parents are on a sight-seeing cruise so they’re not home. I got a postcard today, though, they’re in Japan now.”

“I’ve never been. How’s it look?”

“Pretty. They said their tour guide told them the best time to come is when the cherry blossoms bloom. I would like to go.”

“We’ll go together then.”

He says it with a finality that makes you shy. “When?” is all you can ask.

“Someday.”

You haven’t seen Theodore in a couple of days, an odd thing to try and get used to when you’ve just adjusted to him popping up wherever you are. You assume that he’s done with you now that you finished Romeo and Juliet.

It all makes your heart sink.

You’re alone in the common room, wrapping up your gifts for your friends. You stack Harry’s scarf on top of Hermione’s mittens, Ron’s socks, and Ginny’s hat, and you lean against the couch with a huff.

You think about the spare red yarn sitting in your room. You think there’s just enough to make another scarf.

Theodore’s face flashes in your mind’s eye and you run a hand down your face in frustration. Whatever weird thing you had with Theodore is over. He’s probably out with Mattheo at the Three Broomsticks or something. You’ve seen them there before along with Enzo, Blaise, Draco, and Pansy as well as just with each other, usually flirting with girls there.

You didn’t used to think much of it — just scoffed along with Ron and Hermione — but now the thought makes your stomach churn.

You think about the extra yarn in your room again and you almost can’t believe that, despite his disappearing act, you’ve decided you’ll knit a scarf for Theodore Nott.

Almost.

You’re greeted with a delicious Sunday roast for dinner on Christmas Eve: tender roasted beef, warm Yorkshire puddings, fluffy mashed potatoes, and a side of jus from the beef. You sit by yourself once again, the loneliness threatening to swallow you whole as you plate your dinner.

Theodore seats himself right across from you and places a parcel wrapped in brown paper in front of you. You look at it in confusion and he says, “Open it.”

“What is it?”

“Christmas present.”

You raise a brow. “You got me a present?”

“Yes, now open it.”

“Shouldn’t I wait until tom—” The sharp look he gives you makes you set your fork aside and tug on the string of the bow. There are two books inside. The first is a copy of Shakespeare’s Macbeth, similarly leather-bound like Romeo and Juliet, and the second one is an ornately-decorated collector’s edition of Romeo and Juliet.

Your jaw falls open and you whisper, “Theodore…”

He says, “Figured that we can read Macbeth together. It’s a personal favorite of mine.”

Your fingers trace the golden embossment of Romeo and Juliet, swooping down to follow the curve of the ‘J.�� “Where did you even get this?”

“Sent a lot of letters and had Mattheo help me pull strings at Flourish and Blotts.”

Your face is on fire but you grin at Theodore and say, “Thank you so much.”

“Happy Christmas,” he says and you catch the pink at the tips of his ears.

“I actually have something for you too,” you say and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “I’ll get it to you after dinner.”

“I’ll come with,” he says and you nod. You wonder if he’ll get up but he stays put, taking a plate and serving himself dinner.

You two talk quietly in between bites and something dawns on you halfway through. “Where’s Mattheo?” You look over your shoulder and can’t find the other Slytherin boy.

Theodore smirks. “Might’ve slipped him a couple of galleons to leave us alone.” Your cheeks heat pleasantly.

You two finish dinner after that and Theodore walks you to the Fat Lady’s portrait. She eyes him suspiciously, glaring at you. “You know students from other Houses aren’t permitted in the Gryffindor dorm.”

You disregard her and give her the password. Begrudgingly and with one last glower at you and Theodore, the portrait swings open and you step inside. Theodore peers around the common room and says, “Never been in here before.”

“Some Gryffindor girl hasn’t taken you back with her?” you ask but you instantly regret your teasing words. The thought of Theodore with someone else (Lavender Brown comes to mind and you scowl internally) makes you queasy.

“Can’t say that it’s happened,” he says, shooting you a cocky smirk. “You’d be the first.”

“I’m honored. Wait right here.”

Theodore flops on the couch and sighs in satisfaction. “So much more comfortable than Slytherin’s.”

“Yeah?” you ask as you retreat up the stairs. He shouts after you that Slytherin’s couches, while not wholly terrible, are stiff whereas your common room’s are plush and cushy.

Theodore’s scarf, knit in a red cashmere, lays innocuously on your bed. You’re abruptly self-conscious of it; Theodore got you two beautiful and likely expensive books and you knit him a measly scarf in colors that aren’t his House’s.

Merlin, you think, what if he hates it? Only one way to find out, you suppose. With a deep breath, you pick it up and hide it behind your back. You peek into the common room, where Theodore lounges on the couch, his figure long and relaxed. His shirt has ridden up a little and you spy a sliver of the toned muscle of his stomach.

“Close your eyes,” you say. You watch his eyes shut, unfairly long lashes brushing his cheekbone. You creep into the room, halting in front of him. The flames dancing in the fireplace are the only excuse you can come up with for why you’re so warm. “Hold out your hands.”

He sits up straight and does as he’s told. You say, “It’s not wrapped.”

“That’s alright.”

You inhale, exhale, and gingerly place the scarf in his hands. He opens his eyes and inspects the scarf, rubbing the knit yarn in between his fingers. You hold your breath.

His face breaks into the biggest grin you’ve ever seen on him. He looks—

He looks beautiful. He’s always handsome, yes, but he’s beautiful here.

“This is really nice. You make it yourself?”

You hum in affirmation and he loops it around his neck, standing and spinning around playfully. “How do I look?”

“I think red’s definitely your color,” you tell him, your own cheeks hurting from how widely you’re beaming.

Theodore takes a step closer, his shoes nearly knocking into yours. The glee in his expression morphs slowly into something different. It’s not anything bad, but it’s somehow more intense and softer than before. “Thank you,” he says.

“You’re welcome. Thank you again for the books.”

“You’re welcome.”

The fireplace crackles, embers spitting.

You’re not sure who moves first. Your mouths crash against each other like waves against a bluff, all lips and teeth and tongue. Your hands are everywhere, in his hair, clutching his shoulders, cupping his face. His hands are just as frantic, grabbing at your waist and hips, squeezing you tight against him.

You two come up for air but you don’t surface for long. Despite the way he’s worked up, he’s careful in unwinding the scarf from his neck and draping it over a nearby arm chair. Then, he’s on you again, pulling you flush against him.

He guides you to his lap as he sits back on the couch, lips never leaving yours. You straddle his thighs, tugging lighty at his curls. He moans into your mouth. Your hips move against his. His fingers, long and cold, creep under your shirt and send a shiver down your spine.

His mouth only leaves yours to latch onto your neck, sucking and licking and nipping. You whine and push yourself against him harder, your hands clumsily trying to undo the buttons of his shirt. He helps you, flinging it off his shoulders, and pulling your own off your torso.

“Fuck,” he groans, chest heaving as he takes in the view of you. He’s staring at you like you’re some sort of goddess. “Fuck, you’re beautiful, amorina.”

You melt under his gaze. His ocean blue eyes are a little glazed and his mouth is kiss-swollen and ajar. Godric, he’s one to talk. You lean in closer, tracing his jaw and letting your hand trail down his neck, his chest, down to his stomach. You graze the top of his trousers and lightly scrap your nails over the skin just above. He hisses, hips bucking, and before you can say anything to him, he’s yanking you down for a kiss.

It’s slower, no less passionate but less frenzied, and you only break apart to whisper, “Bedroom, Nott.”

He doesn’t say another word, springing from the couch, grabbing the scarf you made him, and dragging you up to your dorm. As soon as he’s inside, he sets the scarf on your bedside table and pushes you down onto the mattress, climbing on after you.

You squeal as he peppers kisses along your neck. “Theo,” he murmurs against the skin of your collarbone. “Call me Theo.”

“Okay,” you say, testing it out. “Theo.” His hips slot against yours once more and you cant your up. He slips a hand down your pants and when he presses his palm against you, you whine, “Theo!”

Another rumbling moan, “Amorina, you don’t know what you do to me.” Another long, hard kiss. Your hands move to unbutton his trousers.

You don’t care how sweaty and sticky you are as you lay panting against Theo’s chest, feeling the way it rises and falls in rapid succession. You listen to his racing heartbeat and he places a sweet kiss to the top of your head.

As you two catch your breath, Theo says, “I think Juliet should have gone with Benvolio.”

You look at him like he’s crazy. “That’s really what you’re thinking about?”

He winks at you. “Of course not. I’ve been thinking about it since we finished the book.”

You slap his chest playfully and ask the obvious question: “Why do you think so?”

“Well, you said I’m like Benvolio and I told you you remind me of Juliet.”

“Huh?” You think for a couple of seconds and then it clicks. “Oh!” You take in Theo’s half-lidded eyes staring at you. “Oh…”

He dips down to kiss you again.

Over the break, you’ve expanded on what you know about Theodore Nott. One, he’s quiet because he’s thoughtful, always observing, always analyzing, and storing away information for whatever purpose he’d like to use it for.

Two, he’s whip-sharp — you see it in the way he can quote Shakespeare plays like second-nature; in how he easily banters with you, always coming back with a swift reply and a cheeky smile.

Lastly, he’s unbelievably handsome. You knew this before but it’s different now. You admire the way he holds himself with an unflagging confidence, how he has these rare full-bellied laughs that make you crave the sound. But you think he’s most handsome when you sit together, cloistered away in the Clock Tower, reading Romeo and Juliet and now Macbeth together. You’re so close, you can smell the peppermint on his breath from the candy canes the house elves snuck you. You can see all the shades of blue in his eyes. You can count the beauty marks on his face.

This close, you can lean over and kiss him and delight in the way your heart thrums when he reciprocates, cradling your face and coaxing you into him.

You spend the majority of the rest of the break wrapped up in Theo’s arms. By the last day, you’re sure you have snuck each other into your dorms more times than either of you can count. You hang out a few times with Mattheo, who turns out to be not as bad as your friends make him out to be. He’s sharp and quick-witted like Theo with a tendency towards the dramatics that makes you laugh.

You’re sitting at the same spot underneath the tree at the Black Lake, Theo relaxing between your legs. He’s swaddled in the same black overcoat you saw him in before, only this time, the red scarf you knit is starkly bright against the coat. You card your fingers through his soft curls, ducking to peck his forehead. He tilts his head upwards and smiles boyishly at you and it makes you giggle, planting a kiss on his mouth. He brings your hand down to his lips, kissing each fingertip.

You relish the quiet with him, knowing that tomorrow will be a flurry of activity with students and faculty returning from winter holiday. It makes you sigh, the thought of leaving the little world you and Theo have created. Your relationship is only a couple of days old and you can’t deny that you’re anxious about your friends coming back.

As if sensing your nervousness, Theo sits up and spins around to face you. You attempt to plaster on a reassuring smile but it’s wobbly and uneasy. He cradles your face with one hand, thumb stroking your cheekbone. “What’s wrong, cara mia?”

“I don’t know,” you mumble. He tilts his head, raising an eyebrow with an expression that tells you he knows you’re lying. “What are we going to do when everyone comes back?”

“What do you mean?”

“Theo, our friends all despise each other.”

He replies, “So? Just because they don’t like each other doesn’t mean we can’t.” He kisses the back of your hand. “And I happen to like you very much.”

You smile weakly at him. “I know, and I like you very much as well. It’s just…” You can picture the dawning horror on Ron’s face and the grimaces on Hermione and Harry’s.

Theo’s mouth turns downward and he asks, “Why do you care what they think?”

“Don’t you care what your friends think?”

“No,” he says firmly, adding, “Plus, Mattheo likes you so who’s to say everyone else won’t?”

“Theo…”

He repeats, “Why do you care?”

“I just don’t want anything to ruin this, ruin us.”

“They can only ruin it if we let them and we won’t.”

“You don’t know that for sure! We’re still in the early stages of our relationship.”

“Do you not have faith that we’ll stay together?” he asks.

“I do! It’s—” You sigh in frustration, brow furrowed. “I just want to preserve what we have without outside influence. Please, can we just wait a little to tell everyone?”

You wish you didn’t see the way Theo’s expression falters, hurt passing across briefly before he wipes it away. He’s studying your face, eyes dark and unreadable but he nods. “Fine. But you have to promise me that it’s just for a little while.”

“I promise.”

“Alright. I’ll tell Mattheo not to open his big mouth.”

“Thank you, Theo,” you say. This time, you reach for his hand and peck his knuckles. His shoulders lose their tension and he bends towards you, mouth ghosting against your neck. You squeal and giggle and you feel him smile against your skin.

author's note: at long last, the theo nott fic i teased months ago... this fic was supposed to be a lot longer but i when i went back to college and hit a major writer's block, it just languished. i'm proud of what i've written, which is why i want to post it, but please excuse the kind of abrupt end. there is a potential continuation in the future <3

#theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott fic #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott scenarios #theo nott imagine #theodore nott x you #✶ NOVE WRITES

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trainer-from-unova · 1 month ago

Text

three is a crowd

𖤐 bandom blog: @princess-lvcifer 𖤐 english ao3 𖤐 spanish ao3 𖤐 edits 𖤐 kofi 𖤐

ship: geta/f!reader/caracalla

summary: where both emperors want to marry you, and they will

a/n: english isn't my first language

cw: none

word count: 1.1k

It was a calm sunny morning, there wasn't a cloud in sight in the sky and the birds were singing and flying back and forth over the trees of the villa. A young girl was sitting on a bench, quietly embroidering when her mother's voice at the other end of the inner courtyard caught her attention, causing her to look away from her handiwork and crane her neck to turn in her direction.

She was far enough away that she couldn't quite hear what she was saying, but she knew she wasn't talking to herself — beside her and looking in her direction were two men, one taller than the other but both with red hair. And although she hadn't (yet) had the (bad) luck to see them many times, she would recognise them everywhere. How could she not? Her eyes widened like plates and she turned almost without thinking, craning her neck again but pinning her gaze to the ground, processing the moment. Still staring at the ground she could feel their eyes on her, and for a second she froze. It didn't take much intelligence to know what they were doing there — she was one of the most powerful women in all of Rome and therefore desired by many suitors behind her, but she never thought she would attract the attention of the emperors.

She remembered what the streets had been saying about them lately: that they were moving heaven and earth to change the marriage law and marry both of them to the same woman. She remembered talking about the juicy gossip days before with her best friend, and joking that it was bad enough to have one husband you didn't love without having two, and more so if it was those two in particular. Were the gods mocking her for having mocked the poor wretch who had supposedly been the "lucky" one to have the favour of both of them days before? She knew they were out to get her and she also knew that, whether she liked it or not, she had to be obedient and polite, so she left her embroidery on the bench and crossed the courtyard to them, praying that the change in the law was only a rumour and that if she really had to marry it would only be to just one of the two.

"Emperors, it is a pleasure to see you again," she said kneeling subtly on her knees with a sweet but false smile on her lips. "Remember me?" She asked looking at both of them.

"How could we not?" asked Emperor Geta.

"The pleasure is all ours," said Emperor Caracalla, scanning her up and down with his typical playful, almost wicked look and smile. Emperor Geta simply grabbed one of her hands to kiss it, and the other was quick to do the same at the same time with the missing hand, creating a scene that would be comical were it not for the fact that she was co-starring with them in particular.

"To what do we owe this pleasant surprise?" She asked everyone present when they had finished greeting her, wanting to confirm her suspicions as soon as possible.

"We have come to make a proposal of marriage," reported Emperor Geta smiling in the same manner as his brother but more covertly.

Neither wanted to marry the young woman for love, for they hardly knew her nor to benefit from her brilliance, for they shone even brighter, but they wanted to do it so that no one else would. If she married an important senator with her nobility and blood, her new husband was likely to threaten their position. They simply wanted to prevent others from marrying her, but they had to share her benefits to be on the same level as each other and unfortunately they could not divide her in two for each of them, so they abused their power to change the law so that they could both marry her.

"Me?" she asked nervously.

"Who else?" asked Caracalla.

"My mother here is still well preserved in spite of her age, as you can see," she said pointing to her, making her blush and making all present laugh. "And may I know who my future husband will be?"

"Both," replied Emperor Geta.

"Both of you?" She looked at the two of them, surprised at the confirmation of the rumours and her earlier suspicions, and even more nervous and unable to stop herself from feigning a smile. She knew that if she married one she could not avoid being close to the other, but to be married to both at the same time was too much, and seemingly impossible. "Is that even possible?"

"Now it is," the taller one replied.

She was so surprised, nervous and confused that she couldn't think straight or formulate words, so not wanting it to ruin the moment and change the emperors' minds about the marriage proposal, her mother decided to intervene.

"My daughter is so happy that it's hard for her to speak."

"That's normal," said Caracalla.

"It's not every day that one is lucky enough to marry two emperors," said Geta looking smiling at his future wife, and as she felt his gaze on her, she couldn't help but stop dissociating and return his gaze.

Both made her nervous, but for different reasons; she felt that Geta saw right through her no matter how well she acted, and that Caracalla wasn't in his right mind. Not wanting to spend another second with them considering she would soon be living with them under the same roof, she decided to open her mouth to say:

"If you'll excuse me I'll leave, I'm so happy I'm feeling a bit unwell" and she wasn't partly lying, she did feel unwell and needed to leave.

After that everyone around her tried to cheer her up, saying that she was a lucky woman, that she would have more power and that she would go down in history as the first empress to marry two emperors at the same time, but that mattered little to her. The only thing that cheered her up was the idea that she would be left alone after becoming pregnant and having to rest so that the baby in her womb could be formed and born healthy, but then the question arose — who would be the father? As much as they wanted to share her, they couldn't both get her pregnant at the same time, and the first-born would rule the empire in the future. A part of her was looking forward to the wedding night to stop suffering from the nerves that ruled her body and mind even though she didn't want to live that moment.

a/n: And then on the wedding night they blindfold you and don't know who fucks you. The end. I wish I could write the smut but I can't and I swear I really really really tried but my personal life has been a mess lately.

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im-his-druidess · 10 months ago

Text

The Deal

No one asked for this, but I needed something dark and gross 🤷‍♀️

TW: Dub-Con turned Non-Con; Infidelity; Cheating; Rough sex; Forced sex; Slight fuck-or-die but not really; Dead Dove Do Not Eat; Unnecessary amount of commas

Setting up the arrangement with Charlie Hewitt left a sour taste in your mouth at the way he openly leered at you the entire time, but you just kept thinking about finally going to bed with a full belly to get you through his poorly concealed innuendos and crass language. It wasn’t until you arrived at the Hewitt’s home, telling your husband you were walking to the next town for groceries as an excuse, that your plan began to crumble. The memory of Charlie’s words making fear squeeze your lungs and bile rising in your throat.

Just when you think you couldn’t feel even more worthless, here you were spreading your legs for a man that wasn’t your husband, all for the chance to get food on your table.

Your husband acted just as worthless as you currently felt and invited his parents to move into your already cramped house without discussing anything with you. Four grown adults living in a one-bedroom shack of a house, with your husband barely making enough money to feed you both let alone two more mouths, was enough to want to pull your hair out. Of course, it didn’t help that your mother-in-law found fault in every single thing you did which your husband agreed with to stay on his mother’s good side. Coupled with your in-laws living beyond their means, including gorging themselves on food that you managed to scrap together, which often left you going to bed hungry and riddled with anxiety. So, when you overheard the local gossip hounds whispering how the Hewitt family would give meat from their job at the slaughterhouse in exchange for favors, it didn’t take long for you to come to a steely resolve. It might have been the numerous days without a steady meal, or how you were belittled everyday at your home, that made you snap and jump at the chance.

‘As much as I want a piece of that pussy…I made a promise to my kin. Tommy’s birthday is coming up and it is far past time for him to become a man despite what mama says. So that’s who you’ll be fucking today. If you got a problem with that then you can fuck off.’

He was so matter-of-fact about the whole thing that it made your head spin.

Relief that you wouldn’t have to sleep with that disgusting excuse of a man making you giddy, before realization at his words struck you like white-hot lightening. You’ve only seen Tommy Hewitt once and the memory was seared into your brain.

You had come across him as he lumbered down the main road on his way home from the slaughterhouse and you were frozen in your tracks as his hulking form stalked past you. He was a large burly man, with broad shoulders, huge biceps, and thick thighs, and his dark shaggy hair didn’t hide the fact that he wore some type of leather mask on the lower part of his face.

He still wore his bloodstained apron.

You had reluctantly agreed once Charlie “sweetened” the deal by promising double the amount of food he would give. Now, here you were, propped up on a bench in the shed while listening to Charlie whisper harshly outside the door. From his tone it sounded like he was scolding someone, Tommy to be exact when you heard his slow heavy footsteps nearing the door, and you swore your heart was going to beat out of your chest the longer you had to wait. From the snippets you could hear it sounded like he was giving instructions and you grimaced when you heard him give vivid instructions on what to put in where.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Tommy came stumbling through the door looking exactly like you remember minus the apron. You realized his blunt appearance was because he was being pushed into the room. Charlie gave you a dirty lingering look, shaking his head with a wistful sigh, before slapping Tommy on a broad shoulder before ducking back out.

The door shut with a firm thud and then you were left alone with the behemoth.

Fear and anxiety once more rushed through you fast enough to make you lightheaded, your heart pounding rapidly in your chest, and the man lingered almost awkwardly by the door. You dimly noticed that he kept his head down, stealing glances at you and your body through his curtain of hair, and you took a deep breath to gather your courage. The bench underneath you was hard and uncomfortable and you knew the sooner you got this over with the sooner you can go home and forget this entire thing.

With shaky hands you hiked up your skirt, removing your panties so they won’t get lost or ruined, and spread your legs. Your face burned in mortification at your actions, even more so when Tommy’s entire body jerked as if sucker-punched, and he didn’t even bother trying to hide the way he openly stared between your legs with wide blue eyes. You fumbled with the small bottle of oil you brought with you, knowing you weren’t going to get properly wet enough to make things less painful, and you quickly waved Tommy over. He approached slowly as if you were going to bite before settling between your spread legs. With him so close you suddenly realized just how big he was, your thighs straining to accommodate the width of his hips, and you nearly jumped out of your skin when a large heavy hand landed on your thigh. His skin was rough and overly warm, thick fingers digging into the meat of your thigh curiously, and you spotted his eyes darting over the rest of your body before settling back between your legs. Your nerves were starting to crumble at his slow pace so you reached down and began unbuckling his pants with trembling fingers.

His entire body tensed up and you mumbled a quiet apology, but your hands continued their work. You knew this was supposedly his first time, but you were anxious to get this over with. Tommy made a low grunting noise as he shuffled on his feet before you got his pants open and his entire body seemed to spasm when you reached into his pants to grab his dick.

You immediately paled at the sheer girth you encountered as you fingers weren’t even close to touching.

He was clearly proportionate to the rest of his body, but that also meant that he was hung like a fucking horse. You let go and fumbled with the vial of oil with a quick prayer for things to be over quickly. You ignored how he jerked his hips closer to you as if willing your hand back as he restlessly pushed his pants down with a grunt to offer you more room to touch him.

His cock stuck out just below his button-down shirt, almost drooping from the heavy weight, and the thick tip was an angry shade of red. You couldn’t help but compare him to your husband. He was larger in every single way, almost laughably so, and you had the brief thought of if you could even get that inside you. It twitched under your gaze. You looked away suddenly embarrassed and saw out of the corner of your eye his hips jerk once more towards you. You felt sweat pool at your lower back, the hot summer air doing nothing to cool you off despite being in shade, and you nervously wiped the sweat beading at your brow the back of your hand. You chided yourself and focused once more at the task at hand.

You poured a generous amount into your palm, nearly half the bottle, and steeled yourself before reaching down to coat him thoroughly. The sound he made didn’t seem human, the punched out garbled growl making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end, and you held back your whimper of fright as he thickened even more in your grasp. You tried to not think of how you were going to struggle to take him into your body. You dropped him once he was completely coated and dumped more oil into your hand, steadfastly ignoring the way Tommy panted through his mask. You leaned back while taking a deep breath before reaching down and slathering yourself, working the oil into your cunt while simultaneously trying to stretch yourself with two fingers in preparation. It wasn’t long until you felt calloused fingers brushing against the back of your hand making you nearly shriek in surprise. You whipped your head down to see Tommy had moved closer, eyes completely transfixed between your legs, and you realized he was gripping himself with his other hand.

He was stroking himself at the same pace you were working yourself open.

Unexpectedly, heat simmered low in your pelvis at the sight and you couldn’t help but squirm in place. It was only about a minute later that you could tell he was getting restless, his hand squeezing his cock tight enough to make you wince, and you pretended to not notice him rubbing the weeping tip against your thighs. Tommy suddenly gripped your leg and spread you even further and you did whimper at the pain shooting through your hip at the unnatural position. He began grinding against your hand still buried in yourself, huffing in annoyance when he was denied entry, and you took a shuddering deep breath before moving your hand away to grip the edge of the bench.

“Go…slow, okay? Slow,” you muttered in a raspy voice and the only answer you received was the sensation of something blunt and sticky nudging at you.

He suddenly surged forward in an attempt to ram himself in, making you shriek and kick your pinned leg uselessly, but thankfully he just slid through your wet folds and brushed against your clit. He did that a few more times and was clearly growing agitated.

Even as you tried to weakly soothe him by weakly petting the hand holding you open, but that just seemed to work him up even more. Eventually the head of his cock notched at your entrance and he began to slowly push forward, seemingly learning from his mistakes, and you felt your eyes widen at the stretch. He was impossibly wide, nearly making you scream as your body attempted to reject the intrusion, but he was determined and those dark blue eyes never strayed from your straining cunt. You tried to help by shifting your hips, bracing one foot on the bench to widen your pelvis, and even stretching your other leg out to help ease the tension.

Nothing worked and you couldn’t escape the mounting pressure.

“It’s not going to work…Tommy, you have to stop. It hurts,” you pleaded, beginning to push on his thick chest while wiggling your hips away from him, and your vision blurred with unshed tears. Tommy didn’t like you pushing him away.

With a growl he pulled back, but your relief was short lived as he easily grabbed your hips and flipped you over and resumed his position. One broad palm was flat on your back between your shoulder blades, pinning you in place even as you squirmed and kicked, and you felt him trying to push in again with renewed vigor.

“Tommy, stop! I changed my mind! Get off of me!” you shrieked with growing panic only to have your shouts silenced by the feel of that fat head popping inside you.

Your eyes widened, body freezing and clenching down on reflex, and you barely had time to draw in a breath before Tommy drew back and slammed himself halfway inside you. The scream you let out was ear-piercing and your throat immediately felt shredded from the sound, but was cut off by him rearing back and slamming his hip back into you until he was eventually buried to the hilt.

His croaky moan of pleasure was covered by another scream from you.

Tears were now flowing freely down your face as you howled in pain, feeling as if you were being ripped in half, and you barely noticed Tommy’s other hand reaching down to paw at your wet cheeks as if to soothe you.

He only stayed still for a few seconds before leaning back and beginning a downright brutal pace. His hips were slamming into you with enough force to have the bench beneath you creaking ominously, your pelvis felt like it was going to shatter, and you had the stray thought that no amount of preparation would have ever prepared for you for him. Your gasping cries were short and choppy, from both his frantic pace and the hand pushing you down effectively squishing your lungs, but you still shrieked and yelped for him to stop or at least slow down to let your body adjust.

He didn’t listen.

He seemed possessed, grunting and snarling as he pounded into you mercilessly, and eventually your body went limp. You clawed helplessly against the wood beneath your cheek, blubbering incoherently, and prayed that Tommy would finish quickly. As if punishment for accepting this deal, you were granted no such reprieve.

He continued to rut into you like a mindless beast for what felt like hours, your insides swollen and throbbing as they were pummeled by his thick cock, and sweat was dripping off of him and mingling with your tears as he leaned over you to reach impossibly deeper. It wasn’t until his hips started stuttering and his thrusts turned deep and hard instead of fast and frantic that had you crying in relief at the telltale signs that he was nearing his finish. Then a horrifying realization dawned on you. Tommy wasn’t stopping. Instead it seemed he was spending longer and longer buried completely to the hilt, pressed flush against you as close as he could, and a new wave of terror-induced adrenaline washed over you.

“Not inside…Tommy don’t you fucking dare finish inside me,” you shrieked, renewing your struggles to escape him, and you grew increasingly wild as he only grunted at you.

You began writhing and attempting to twist away from him, kicking your legs and reaching back behind you to claw at his face, anything to get him away from you.

It only resulted in the hand on your back to slide up and fist painfully in your hair, nearly slamming you back onto the table hard enough for you to see black spots swimming in your vision, and his other hand grabbed your hip to further hold you in place. You continued to beg and plead for him to not come inside you, literally anywhere else but inside, but you were steadfastly ignored. His pace suddenly quickened, a low rattling whine escaping his broad chest, and you wailed as he stilled completely buried inside you. You felt his cock jerk and throb followed by a wave of scorching heat soothing your ravaged channel and you screamed in outrage and in despair. Tommy continued to grind into you, riding out his orgasm with small hurt noises escaping his throat, and by the time he was finished you were limp and shivering with shock. Realization of what all just happened rolling through your mind as fast as nausea rolled in your stomach at the feeling of wetness slipping down your thighs. Bile threatened to rise in your throat, silent tears spilling anew down your damp face, and your entire body felt both boiling hot and icy cold.

You wept quietly as he stayed buried inside you. He petted through your hair as if you were a frightened animal, his ragged breathing filling the stuffy air of the shed, and you swore you heard him cooing at you. You felt him lean down and nuzzle the back of your head as his hand moved from your hip to shyly pet over the back of your hand in some twisted form of affection after what just happened. The door suddenly swung open and you didn’t even have the energy to even twitch.

“Atta boy, Tommy! Heard that bitch caterwauling clear down the road!” Charlie shouted with clear glee and humiliation burned in your veins.

You heard the man move closer, no doubt wanting to leer at your crumpled body, but Tommy growled and moved his body more firmly on top of you. As if shielding you from view.

“Aw, what’s this, boy? You finally get your dick wet and now feel like you’re somebody special?” Charlie sneered and you felt the large body on top of you press even tighter to you.

You heard movement around you before a large item wrapped in brown paper tied with twine plopped on the table by your head.

“A deal’s a deal. Don’t be shy now. I’m sure Tommy would love to see you again,” he continued with a wheezing laugh, clearly finding the whole ordeal hilarious, and he walked back out of the shed laughing to himself.

Regret and disgust swirled in your gut at the sight of the paper bag, knowledge of what all transpired making you want to cry all over again, and you let out a small hiccupping sob. Tommy nuzzled into your hair once more, his body relaxing now that Charlie had left, and he resumed his petting. He was letting out a happy garbled sound, clearly not realizing how he had just brutalized you, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

You felt Tommy begin to harden inside you once more.

#Thomas Hewitt #texas chainsaw massacre smut #texas chainsaw massacre 2003 #texas chainsaw massacre the beginning #the texas chainsaw massacre #thomas hewitt smut #thomas hewitt x reader #slashers #slasher fandom #slasher smut #the cryptid posts

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wileys-russo · 10 months ago

Note

https://x.com/kaitsgooner/status/1752015922892620031?s=46&t=k-Lwg3ELXoOdR-KcbCNumw

Leah’s always gossiping😭 she’s so funny. Would love a little fic of Leah and reader just on the bench and Leah is just full on gossiping to reader while your trying to focus on the game. Eventually getting pulled into Leah’s gossip

gossip II l.williamson

you watched with pride as your girlfriend jogged over to the sidelines, smacking her palm against laia's and clapping the catalonian on the back who raced across the pitch to take her place.

you waited patiently as leah greeted the coaching staff, shaking hands and having a quick word with the defensive head and pointing out a few things as he slid over to speak with jonas and leah made her way down the line of subs, fist bumping each girl as she went.

"hello bench warmer." the blonde teased with a grin, quickly pecking your lips and dropping down onto the grass in front of you, waving off frida's offer to move down a seat so your girlfriend could sit beside you.

"charming as ever darling." you sighed with a smile, handing her a recovery shake as she shuffled back slightly to lean against your legs, patting your knee affectionately.

as she locked into a conversation with alessia who was sat on your other side you zoned out a little, chin resting on your fist and watching the game.

"babe!" you glanced down as leah shook your leg, raising an eyebrow. "do you remember the florist? the one down the street from that bakery we like?" leah questioned as you smiled.

"lee we can gossip all you want on the drive home, watch the game." you laughed quietly, knowing the blondes tendencies far too well as she huffed and turned back to speak with alessia.

arsenal had a two goal lead but you knew even if there was only twenty minutes left that anything could happen, which is why you paid little attention to your girlfriends stories.

though you could tell she was getting into them given the way her hands darted about as she spoke making you smile fondly as alessia and now kyra hung off the older girls every word, also now clearly invested into her tales.

"leah!" you whined shoving her shoulder as your girlfriend pinched your inner thigh, having tapped you a few times and getting no response. "i called your name nicely first! space cadet." her hand reached up to poke at your cheek as you pushed it away and sat back properly.

"you know the girl from the bakery we like yeah? the one who always slips us extra pastries when the boss isn't in, olivia? olive? i think its olivia." leah again tried to draw you in as you shook your head.

"you're a terrible gossip williamson, watch the girls! and you, stop encouraging her less!" you warned the grinning blonde beside you who shrugged, kyras head popping over her shoulder matching her eagerness. "why? she's a great story teller!" the australian defended as leah hit your knee with a happy smirk and you rolled your eyes.

"stop yapping and support your teammates! all three of you." you warned a little more sternly, the younger girls beside you deflating somewhat as leah rolled her eyes but turned around to face the pitch, sipping at her shake.

but once the beverage was finished it failed to serve as a distraction, leah growing restless and leaning over to tap alessia's knee and you sighed as within seconds both her and kyra were once more hanging off your girlfriends every syllable.

"-the florist!" you only caught the last of your girlfriends sentence, drawn into the conversation by the loud gasps of shock from the younger girls beside you and even frida who leah seemed to have sucked in now too.

"wait what?" you questioned with a frown, clearly having missed the build up as you watched manu make a diving save and breathed a sigh of relief.

"well well well. look who wants in on the gossip train!" leah smirked as you rolled your eyes and shook your head, ignoring her and instead turning back to the game. "whatever." you rolled your eyes stubbornly, focusing on the pitch again but feeling leahs eyes bore up into you.

"fine! you've twisted my arm, i'll tell you." leah tapped your thigh to gain your attention back as you couldn't help but be amused by her obvious enthusiasm. "back to my original question, you know the florist-" leah began tracking backward as you nodded.

"the one near the bakery we like, i do. what about him?" you frowned as leah huffed. "bubba theres layers to this story, don't interrupt!" the blonde warned sternly wagging a finger at you as you shoved alessia who giggled.

"well the florist. so he's married yeah? he has that photo of his wife and kid on the counter, and he always has that gold wedding band on. i remember because its got his wives initials carved into it which is quite cute, or maybe its their kids initials?" leah frowned, pausing as you again nodded though this time wordlessly.

"anyway not important. well i went in to see him on tuesday, remember i got you that huge bouquet and brought you breakfast in bed and then we had second bre-" you hurried to cover her mouth as the tips of your ears flushed red.

"leah what we do in the bedroom is private!" you hissed in warning for the words which you'd stopped before they fell. "we already heard about it when she told us the story." kyra piped up cheekily as you groaned and removed your hand, shrinking a little in embarrassment.

"anyway. well i went in on tuesday and no wedding band, no picture." leah continued on completely ignoring your reaction, pulling your hand away and kissing your knuckles sweetly before letting go.

"which is weird right? but then i also went to the bakery because as we both know their bread is the very best bread for a ham sandwich. so i went in to get a loaf and i noticed there was a different woman serving, not olivia or olive whatever her name is who usually always works on tuesdays." leahs eyes narrowed as you hummed to show you were listening.

"so i subtly asked, more so joked really, about where she was. turns out she's on maternity leave? i didn't even notice she was pregnant but apparently she's due in a few weeks!" leah scoffed in disbelief as you frowned, also not having picked up on that throughout the many months you and leah had frequented the bakery.

"so while i was waiting for the bread, and i won't lie babe i did get a croissant and finish it before i got home so you wouldn't know." leah smiled apologetically as you shoved her head with a playful roll of your eyes.

"but this is the scandal of it all. so i overheard one of the bakers on the phone and it turns out that-" leah was cut off as cheers errupted around meadow park, the final whistle blowing signalling the game was over and arsenal had indeed reigned victorious.

you waited patiently for leah to finish, watching as she placed her palms on your knees and used them to help her push up to her feet before holding out her hands to help you up.

"turns out that..." you trailed off eagerly with wide eyes as the rest of the girls began to jog out onto the pitch to congratulate everyone and greet the fans.

"i'll tell you later. come on gorgeous!" leah kissed your cheek and wandered off after lia as your jaw dropped. "what happened?" you grabbed alessia with wide eyes who shrugged. "its leahs story! i'll probably miss details and tell it wrong." the blonde tugged her hands away and followed after kyra as you groaned.

"leah!" you huffed in annoyance, hurrying after her and hating how much she'd peaked your curiousity.

"leah you can't leave it there, finish the story!" you whined catching up to her as lia just smiled in amusement not even needing to know the context as your girlfriend just tutted and slung an arm over your shoulder, kissing your cheek again with a grin.

"nah we can gossip all you want on the drive home, right baby?"

#woso community #woso #woso x reader #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs #arsenal wfc

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cottonlemonade · 2 months ago

Text

Dating You For A Bet [Part 1]

word count: 1767 || avg. reading time: 8 mins.

pairing: university AU!Matsukawa x chubby!Reader

genre: angst

warnings: some swearing

It was becoming increasingly harder to ignore the barely hidden stares and whispers surrounding you. You looked up to check if maybe you were just imagining things but the hastily averted eyes and hush of voices solidified your suspicion that you were once again the talk of the town. It happened many times before that you, the chubby foreigner with the mediocre grades but big opinions during seminars, were subject to gossip and after a year of studying in Tokyo, you were somewhat used to it. The gossip died down a few months after your arrival only to spike exponentially when the handsome middle blocker of the varsity volleyball team came up to you one day during lunch and with a disarming smirk that belonged on the pages of scandalous romance novels simply sat down across from you, asking if you enjoyed the miso soup that was hardly touched and by now stone cold on your tray. Oblivious to any kind of possible flirting you just shrugged and went back to your phone when a long finger tapped gently on your knuckles to get your attention. Matsukawa tilted his head a little and asked if you’d like to study with him later in the library and you agreed and it all just developed from there. He did have to spell it out for you that he was interested since you just assumed that he was being nice like most guys you talked to but you quickly came into the dessert-like luxury of being acknowledged as his girlfriend, fingers entwined, him pulling your legs over his lap when you lounged on a bench on the university grounds, talking about anything and nothing for six glorious, sunny months. You were in fact waiting for him right now, keeping your backpack on the seat next to you just in case someone dared to plop down. Giggles and pointing now joined the stares and whispers and frowning a little you pulled out your phone to text your boyfriend how long he’d be.

“Sorry! Sorry. Hey, I said sorry, now shoo~“ Your tall glass of water of a man shuffled through the row of seats a minute later and a little out of breath from running over from another building got comfortable and produced his laptop from his messenger bag. “Thank you, beautiful.”, he panted when you brought the straw of your iced coffee to his lips.

“What’s up?”, he asked when you didn’t lean in as usual for a kiss. Following your gaze he looked around the lecture hall. Some people quickly turned the other way again while others just blatantly continued their gawking.

“What’s going on?”

“No idea but I feel like it has something to do with me.”, you said quietly. Slouching further down in your chair you added, “Maybe some stupid rumor again in the class forum. Like last time when they thought I only have one pair of pants because most of my jeans just have the same cut.”

“Well, better check it out so I can vehemently defend my girl against any and all evil doings that are being evil done.”, he said chivalrously and grabbed his phone from his jacket pocket. But after a bit of typing you saw all color drain from his face. His usually relaxed half hooded eyes widened in shock and he quickly locked the screen.

“Babe.”, you gave a nervous chuckle, “What is it?”

“Nothing.”

You raised a brow. “You do realize that I also have access to that site and can check myself.”

Slowly, very very slowly he handed you his phone and with a few swipes it unlocked.

Sure enough the community forum of your year was open and a set of screenshots from a group chat was pinned to the very top.

You recognized one of the profile pictures. It was Issei’s old one before he changed it to a photo of you and him kissing at a lake.

Your boyfriend meanwhile sat silently next to you, staring at his hands.

Three minutes passed in which the air around became thick with tension.

You swallowed the impossibly large lump that had formed in your throat while you read, then stared ahead at the many other students now obviously waiting for you to react.

But you were not about to give them the satisfaction. You tossed the phone back into your … into Matsukawa’s lap and having no patience to put your things away, just grabbed tablet, notepad, pen and phone awkwardly in one hand, your backpack in the other and got up.

“Please let me out.”, you said calmly.

“Y/n, I-“

“I said, let me out.”

Matsukawa stood up to let you pass, so did the other people in your row. You felt your eyes burn but you willed yourself not to cry or breathe until you left this room.

Stoically, you walked up the few steps towards the double doors when you heard shuffling behind you and a hand grabbed your wrist. You didn’t have to turn around to know it was him.

“Princess, please-“

You yanked yourself free and reached for the handle.

“Mr Matsukawa, Miss L/N.”, the voice of the professor who had finally arrived stopped you in your tracks, “May I remind you that in order to pass my class you need an 80% attendance rate? Especially you, Mr Matsukawa, if you leave now I’m going to have to fail you.”

Grim satisfaction filled your head when you pushed open the door to leave him behind.

He should stay like a good boy. He should have the decency to give you a head start to go to his dorm so you could collect every single thing you ever left there and you began to wonder if you’d need one or two trash bags for all the crap he kept in your room.

But much to your surprise the door behind you didn’t close as quickly as you thought. Familiar footsteps caught up to you.

“Y/n, it’s not what you think.”

Your heart began to sting and twist; the tears, no longer under your control, streamed down your plump cheeks when you spun around.

“Alright.”, you began, letting out a quivering breath to steady your voice, “Tell me. Explain to me why you obviously making a bet with your jerky friends about getting me into bed is not what I think. Oh, and make sure you use small words for the foreigner. Go on. Make me laugh.”

“Gorgeous-“

“Don’t call me that.”

He flinched. He looked small, kneading his hands like that, head ducked between his shoulders and staring at your shoes.

“Y/n…”, he said but then fell silent.

“That’s what I thought. Don’t talk to me. Don’t call me. Don’t come near me ever again.”

You turned on your heel and not caring about the highly entertained grin some passersby threw your way you hurried out of the building.

Issei looked after you for a long while, then he returned to the lecture hall.

You lay on your bed, arm over your eyes and heating pillow on your tummy. Ever since this morning you hadn’t been able to eat anything and were now paying the price for trying to keep down an old milk bread bun you had found squashed at the bottom of your backpack. Without all of Matsukawa’s stuff cluttering your side of the room it felt a lot emptier. All the plushies from the arcade he’d won for you, his spare Pyjamas (kept hidden under your bed) for when your roommate was out of town, a bouquet of flowers, impulsively picked from someone’s front yard that you had pressed and framed, a tattered old jersey from his high school team he left for you as a makeshift pillowcase so you could breathe him in if he couldn’t be with you - all of that was stuffed into a bulging black trash bag by the door. It genuinely surprised you that your phone had stayed silent all day. In the very back of your mind, a small unwelcome part of you had hoped that he’d try to talk to you despite your warnings. That he would try to explain himself and get you back but then again it had all just been a game to him, right?

The rustling of paper had you sit up. A folded note slipped under your door. You got up to investigate. The handwriting, almost illegible chicken scratches, and almost illegible, was unmistakable. Fighting the urge to read it, you simply crumpled it up and threw it away, proud of yourself. But when you turned to go back to bed, another note appeared.

It looked identical to the first.

“What the…”, you muttered, and as you balled up this new message you called through the door, “Go away!”

But a third note, the same as the first two, swished towards your feet.

You had enough and pulled the door open.

Crouching before you, a stack of paper in his arms, was Matsukawa, arm outstretched with yet another note, ready to deploy apparently.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I-“

“Didn’t I tell you that I don’t want to see you again?”

“Well…”

“Well what?”

“Technically you didn’t see me. U-until… now.” You glared at him and he quietly added, “Loophole.” in a weak attempt to lighten the mood.

“Are you seriously trying to be cute right now?”

“No! Not at all, I- uhm, did you read the message?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Okay, give me five minutes to explain. Please!”

“What’s there to explain? Your dumb friend offered you a dumb bet and your dumb ass accepted it. With zero hesitation, might I add.”

“Yes, but-“

“Did you get the money?”

“What?”

“You heard me, did you get the money?”

“I… yes.”

“Did you feel guilty for getting the money?”

“Babe- I mean, y/n”, he quickly swerved after seeing you seething with rage at the nickname, “the money didn’t matter! I was hopelessly in love with you the moment you pushed Makki into the pool.”

He shuffled half a step closer to you and took a whole one back again when you frowned.

“That party was in July. We started dating in the spring. So for the first half of our relationship you were just pretending?”

“N-no! That’s not what I - no!”

“Take your shit and get out of my sight!”

“Listen to me, I won’t let you go! You’re the best thing that ever happened to me! I know I don’t deserve you but please don’t leave me! I love you, y/n!”

“Goodbye!”

And after chucking the trash bag into his face you slammed the door shut.

art: I wasn’t able to find out who the OG artist was. If you know, please lemme know and I’ll add

[part 2]

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