#he seems like he would be the best boyfriend ever

[crescenthistory]

Where Padfoot Lays His Head

Summary: Inspired by @thewriterghost's reblog of my last animagus!reader fic, this is just a sweet drabble of Whiskers comforting Padfoot:,)

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, your marauders/animagus name is whiskers, walburga black, black family dynamics and trauma, vaguely implied abuse, sirius spiraling into self-loathing, platonic physical affection, romantic!regulus x reader but platonic!sirius x reader is the main focus, background platonic!moonwater

Note: this is based on the same reader from Feline Touches, Sweet Like Honey and Padfoot vs. Whiskers, sirius' beloved almost-sister-in-law that he has frequent (loving) sibling squabbles with

Sirius pretended he didn’t feel the humiliation burning through his veins from his friends’ worrying looks.

Stop looking at me, stop caring so sodding much.

His internal begging was all for naught; this was apparently what he signed up for when he strolled into the train compartment that housed the largest smile Hogwarts had ever seen and his pack of make-shift slightly-fucked-up-but-lovable friends.

Most days, Sirius was grateful to the bone for the family he had been able to assemble at Hogwarts, stretching from his boyfriend to his boyfriend’s childhood best friend to his biological brother and the boys that became his brothers. However, on days that Walburga Black, the hag to end all hags, sends him a Howler berating him for leaving home over the summer, few sentiments besides anger, self-loathing and isolation remained in the young boy’s body.

When he eventually stops reeling and wallowing, all this attention would make him feel warm once more, especially when he sees they didn’t stop showering him in it even as he retreated perhaps a bit rudely from it. Right now, though, it just kept the wound open and Sirius was sure the infection would kill him this time around.

He was sure of that every time.

It became evident quickly that he would not be able to get away from his friends. James was practically glued to his side from the moment he left the Great Hall after Walburga ruined everyone’s lunch. His brown eyes were so wide beneath his glasses and Sirius was sure he could almost see tears in them as he swung his arm around Sirius’ shoulders and kept telling jokes like his life depended on it. Remus was not much better. He had learned by now not to soften his touches when Sirius was in these moods – on the contrary, harsh, direct touches helped ground him – but his hands rarely left his being, as if he would fall apart without him. Even Lily tuned down her playful banter with him, swapping it for concerned questions and checking in on him throughout the day. Sirius loved them all, but he hated it.

Even Regulus showed him more compassion than normal, though he didn’t say much. His entire being seemed to radiate I get you, I understand more than anyone, because frankly he did. Even as hearing Walburga’s voice must have rattled Regulus too, he didn’t show it, instead holding space for Sirius, carrying what was supposed to be his burden.

Humiliating. 

All of which to say, Sirius did what Sirius does best; he ran from them all, in the one form none of them would be able to hold a conversation with him in.

Padfoot had turned out to be a blessing that way. Sirius picked up on it from you, who only ever was in your animagus form when you felt particularly well or horrifically poorly. Difficult to ask how a dog is feeling, yeah? 

He laid in front of the common room fireplace, stretched out in a position that showed he was ready to pounce should anyone try to pet him. Around him, his friends were cuddled up on the sofas and armchairs, chattering lowly amongst themselves and playing the occasional game of wizarding chess. Padfoot had his head placed on his front paws as his gaze flickered all over the room, unable to settle. His nerves always seemed to transform with him, manifesting as the most anxious dog Gryffindor had seen.

Their stares were still on him, penetrating and with downturned frowns over their faces. Stop it, stop it, stop it. He couldn’t string too long sentences together in his dog brain – part of its fantastic appeal right now – but that sentiment remained steadfast.

You were sat in Regulus’ lap opposite the fireplace, murmuring something in his ear as you both intermittently looked at Padfoot. Your hands were playing with his hair, lips almost grazing his skin as you talked, even pressing the occasional kiss to his cheek, his jaw, his ear. Love. Padfoot loved love and he loved his little brother getting to experience it so wholly, even as he laid here, destroying the moment with the same misery that hunted any children raised by the Black family. He felt as if he was sucking the joy out of the room with his wallowing, yet he couldn’t stop himself.

Padfoot couldn’t help the low whine that escaped him at the darkness swirling around inside him. Upon fearing having to meet the gazes of anyone who caught the noise and see the goddamn sympathy and pity in them, he brought his paws up to cover his eyes, pathetically hiding within himself.

Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad.

In his internal chanting, he didn’t notice when the chatter died down a bit, nor did he see the glances exchanged. He felt the footsteps reverberating through the floorboards, suggesting somebody was walking away, but he didn’t register its true implications. Leave, was all he could think. Good, leave. Go.

What he did notice to its fullest extent was when a few moments later, soft fur collided with his own as something was rubbing against him.

A bit too quickly, almost too violently, Padfoot’s head snapped up from beneath his paws to see what this intrusion was – only to come face to face with a white-and-grey cat, blinking slowly at him. His mouth fell slightly open, and he thought a complaining bark may be on its way out, but then you – Whiskers – butted your head against the side of his neck, caressing him with your feline body.

The adventures of Whiskers and Padfoot were a running joke, especially one Remus and Regulus loved to team up to tell. Whether it was chasing each other around, hunting rats – preferably Wormtail, but any would do – and mice or playing with the house elves, you two loved to conduct mischief together in the one form you could never be properly caught in. There had been the occasion where you cuddle or pet one another, but it was rare and usually unspoken, attachment growing deeper and softer without either properly addressing it. 

So, this was not necessarily out of left field, but it surprised him nonetheless. He couldn’t say it wasn’t quite welcome, though.

You had started purring as you walked up and down his body where he was laid in front of the fire, soaking up the warmth he was bathed in and oddly calming the vibrating nerves within his own body. Whenever you reached his head, you bumped your snout against his, rubbing the space between your ears all over his face.

Cats are weird, Padfoot thought. Like it.

Mere minutes ago Sirius had been surveying his friends and his effect on them intently, digging himself deeper into his self-inflicted hole. Now, his attention was captured by the much smaller animal beside him, and he didn’t see how most conversation had stopped to witness the interaction. Lily and James looked at them in almost shocked awe, both having been snapped at and ran away from when they attempted to pet Padfoot themselves. Regulus and Remus, however, sat there with soft, knowing smiles – seeing the girl they loved most go for it with no fear and comforting their favourite dog. Remus would deny it to anyone who asked, but there were tears in his eyes.

The next time Whiskers came up beside his face, you stayed there, leaning yours against his. You laid your body down over the paws Padfoot had previously rested his own head on and made yourself comfortable in a position no one but a cat could possibly conjure up. From there, you began cleaning his fur like you were his personally-assigned cat mother, licking the strands in their correct direction. When his face was too far away, you lightly brought your paw up to his snout to bring him further towards you.

Despite being placed in front of a fire, warmth didn’t truly spread through Sirius before now. When he brought his head down, he laid it on top of you and let it rest there across your midsection, careful not to hurt you, as your upper body curled around his head. You continued cleaning up his fur as you purred loudly, easing the tension from Padfoot’s poor body.

A cuddle only animals could come up with, an embrace Sirius would deny anyone today, yet like this, it just worked.

When his eyes became heavy, Sirius let them fall. You continued your ministrations without hesitation, carefully and slowly tending to Sirius face, only stopping occasionally to nuzzle your forehead further into his fur and purr even louder. 

He didn’t quite fall asleep, he rarely did as Padfoot, too alert and awake in this form, but he let himself fall into a place of tranquillity. Walburga’s harsh words seemed almost funny in their anger now, and Sirius’ own spiral was becoming a thing of the past. 

Would he still be red-cheeked tomorrow and avoid his friends’ eyes for the first half of the day? Perhaps, but they would reel him into their arms and hearts regardless. Would he sputter and fall back into his evil cycle of thoughts if anyone brought this specific moment up? Without a doubt, but that’s why they would not, at least not before he settled. 

Padfoot was suddenly safe in the Gryffindor common room. He was safe with this warm weight over his paws and beneath his head, he was safe with love being quite literally carded into every strand of fur on his body. He was safe with the hearth behind him and his pack in front of him, quiet voices further lolling him further into a state of peace.

Padfoot was safe – maybe even loved.

Across the room, Remus and Regulus had gravitated further towards one another, as theirs were the only eyes who never left the scene of cat-dog-solidarity displayed before them. 

Regulus bumped into Remus’ arm with his elbow and whispered, “He doesn’t like cats, he says?” with a knowing smirk.

The other boy huffed a laugh at that, lips remaining softly upturned. ��I believe he has an exception or two to that rule.”

[lyinginmeadow]

Breakaway | hockey!Azriel × reader

Summary: You're not a fan of a kiss cam. And neither is your boyfriend.

Word count: 1,8k

Warnings: swearing, miserable knowledge of hockey (sorry yall), Rhys being a protective asshole over his sister

A/n: Anyone a hockey fan? No, just me? Okay. Another thing is, that I described university as I know it in my country haha. I hope no one will be confused

Also yes, I did take inspiration from tiktok. I just loved that scene <3

Leaves started to fall which meant your favorite season was starting. You loved anything and everything that came with autumn. The pumpkin spice, moody weather, sweaters, and books. With autumn knocking on your door, the new semester has begun. You didn't mind studying, you actually enjoyed it to a certain degree, but the stress is what always got to you during exams. You were just starting your second year of university, so you knew what to expect. To many that was all. Just endless studying and partying to get their minds off things. You? Not really. Ever since you could remember, fall meant the hockey season started. Were you a hockey player? No, not at all. Ice skating was your passion, just not hockey. That didn't matter, because your brother was the golden child. Rhysand played because your father used to. You would never say it out loud, mainly because it would inflate his ego even more, but Rhysand was a star player. He was so much better than your father and you knew that if he wanted to, he would make it far. 

 Rhys never acted towards you with any malice other than just a bit of sibling rivalry. He was actually quite protective of you, given the fact you were his little sister. But whatever you did was never good enough for your father. You might study medicine, but Rhys was finishing law. You might figure skate but you were no hockey player. And most of all, you were a woman. And your father despised you for it. You were expected to make it to every game, but no one ever wanted to attend your competitions.  You enjoyed watching the games, especially when Rhys met his best friends and teammates at university. The games became so much more interesting when Azriel entered the ice. Rhys might be the captain and the center, but Azriel was a force to be reckoned with, the fastest player in the rink. You became friends with both Cassian and Azriel quickly since you often visited their house to get away from your parents. Rhysand of course was glad but you knew you were off-limits to his friends. Not only was it obvious in how he glared at both of them whenever they made a comment he didn’t appreciate. But the first time you met, Cass basically undressed you with his eyes. From what you heard he reminded them often to not mess with his sister.

It did not stop you from developing feelings for him the moment you laid eyes on him. For a while, it did seem he viewed you only as his best friend's little sister. Which you had a hard time accepting. Your relationship changed when you sneaked into a party they had thrown in celebration of a victory last year. You were a first-year, and your first semester at university had been hectic, but living close to your brother and away from your parents was a long-awaited blessing. Having a taste of freedom made you bold. Azriel couldn't take his eyes off of you, you had been like a magnet. He hadn't been the only one as you attracted the attention of another freshman. Azriel might not have acted on his attraction towards you before but seeing you with another man changed that. One thing led to another and you were sneaking out together whenever you found time.

It had been a year and your brother still had no clue. And you intended to keep it that way. You loved your boyfriend, you didn't want to worry about his teeth off the ice as well. Cassian on the other hand suspected, thankfully as you introduced him to your friend, Nesta, he became preoccupied and dropped the matter. 

''So who do you think will win? And be honest, they're not here, you can't hurt their fragile egos.'' Nesta disturbed your train of thought. You laughed shaking your head. You loved hanging out with her because of how direct she was, always saying exactly what was on her mind. You met Nesta when your university did a charity ballet on the ice of Nutcracker. You got the role of Clara and she was your ballet counterpart. You did not expect to establish a friendship with her, but she was exactly who you needed in your life. You knew she would call you out on your bullshit anytime and you liked her for it. She also happened to be the first person you told about Azriel. She was not surprised, saying that you weren't being as secretive as you thought you had been.

''You know I am still biased since I really want our team to win. The Cavaliers are good and they play dirty. But Cass will probably try to kill Eris on the ice. Given the history and all.'' You gave her a pointed look. Shifting your gaze to the rink, you tried to find number 38.

''They’ve got no chance against VU.'' Said a guy next to you. You hated when someone butted their way into a conversation. But given the fact, that you would be spending about two hours in close proximity, you had decided for a polite smile. ''I guess so.''

''So how come you've got such good seats? Know someone on the team?'' He chimed in again.

''You could say that. My brother is the captain.'' You answered keeping your eyes on Azriel as he warmed up.

''Rhysand is your brother?''

''Unfortunately.'' You nodded, and his eyes grew in size. ''That's so lucky! I wish I was a hockey player or just knew them. You see, I got these seats because I'll be writing an article about the game.'' You smiled politely again shifting your gaze to the rink when the puck was just about to hit the ice.

As the game progressed, the crowd became electric. All the fans were shouting and your ears began ringing. Velaris Bats were in the lead, but only by one goal and everyone was nervous. To make the game even more enjoyable, there were games for the fans as well. Students competed against one another to win points for their university and win the competition of the tribunes.

The competitions were fun and good entertainment during breaks. But while the game continued the camera was turned on. You laughed at a random do a meme moment, but quickly turned your head back to the ice. You didn't want to miss a second of Azriel's game. Fully focused, you didn't realize that the camera switched to a kiss cam. A guy sitting next to you turned his head to face you and pointed to the TV earning your attention. ''I mean when in Rome, right?'' He laughed as he tried to close the distance. ''Yeah, no, thank you.'' You laughed nervously shifting in your seat.

''Oh come on, it's just a kiss.'' He pressured, and you gave a panicked look towards the ice. You heard Nesta taking a sharp inhale to give the guy a piece of her mind. You were interrupted by shouts of the fans and loud banging on the glass. 

''Back the fuck off.'' You couldn't hear Az properly, but the message was quite clear, making the guy shift his gaze between the two of you uncomfortably. Az got two minutes for stalling the game which made the crowd boo and your brother yell obscenities as he often did when one of his teammates was sent to a bench. Thankfully during the power play the Cavaliers didn't get a goal in, but it was close. It only enraged Rhysand more which was abundantly clear when he almost broke his stick as the second period came to an end.

Azriel was sending daggers to the guy sitting next to you who looked like he wanted nothing more than to leave. He relaxed when the players left for their locker rooms. You just hoped Rhys didn't look much into Azriel's possessive behavior.

''What the fuck was that?'' Roared Rhys as he entered the locker room.

''I don't know what you're talking about.'' Azriel continued to take off his gear.

''Do not play with me! You could have cost us the game.''

''I was thinking I did you a favor. He had no right to touch her like that.'' He finally faced Rhysand.

''It was a fucking kiss cam.''

''She didn't want to be kissed. And he didn't back off.''

''So what? You made it your mission to help her while you were supposed to pay attention to the puck?'' Spit Rhys. Everyone in the locker room was silent watching the two stubborn players go head to head.

''Yes! And I would do it again.'' Azriel retorted.

''I could have you off the team for this.'' He hissed.

''Rhys-.'' Cassian signed. ''Be my guest.'' Azriel interrupted starring Rhysand down. He wouldn't back down. He couldn't. He knew you could have handled yourself back there. Hell, Nesta was there, too and she wouldn't let some guy do anything disrespectful. He just acted on an impulse. When he looked up and saw your panicked gaze, something shifted inside him. Rhys kept watching Azriel, staring right into his soul when suddenly his eyes grew larger as if recognizing what he should have seen from the very beginning.

''You've got to be kidding me.'' When Azriel didn't answer, Rhys continued, ''Tell me you don’t have a thing for my little sister.’’

''Azriel, I swear to everything that is holly, I will fucking punch you if you don't give me an answer.''

''We are together. Have been for almost a year.'' Azriel never saw anyone have an aneurysm. But if he could guess, Rhysand was a textbook example of how it looked like.

''I take it back, I will punch you anyway.'' And he might have if Cassian wasn't there to catch Rhys. ''Easy there killer. The game is still on. And you might not like it but Az is an asset.''

''I don't want to see you anywhere near her, understand? I know how you are with girls!'' Rhysand snarled.

''You know I can't do that.''

''Then you're off the team.''

''Fine.''

As they returned to the ice, the tension between Velaris Bats was palpable. Cassian was looking between his teammates probably trying to find a quick solution to the problem at hand. Azriel wasn't paying you any attention keeping his gaze on the ice only. You frowned slightly. When you looked at Rhys you found him staring back at you anger oozing out of his every move. 

He knew.

[queenk00k]

cupid's lead arrows // rafe cameron

Requested by anon

Request: Hi girl I love your writing 🫶🏻 Can you write about Rafe, who has been Reader’s best friend forever, but secretly has a crush on her? One day, Reader confesses that she’s dating someone, and Rafe does everything he can to break them up.

Summary: You finally get a boyfriend but something, or someone, seems intent on keeping you apart.

Word count: 1.8k

Includes: This is literally all angst sorry

Note: My first Outer Banks fic in over 4 years lol please be kind! I got a little carried away...this lends itself to a part 2, if anyone likes it.

It’s not always a walk in the park when you’re Rafe Cameron’s best friend.

You’ve been inseparable since the first day of high school when you got paired together for a semester long project. Study sessions in the library (well, you would study, and Rafe would flirt with the cute library monitor) turned into after school hangouts at Tannyhill, which turned into hosting parties and heading to college together.

Did you ever have a crush on your best friend? Well fuck, have you seen him?

Not only is he gorgeous but you got to experience a whole different side of Rafe that not everyone got to see, the sweet side – loyal, caring, and pretty soft behind the scenes.

You spent years pining after Rafe, silently and stoically of course, never wanting to ruin your friendship by letting him know how you felt. You figured it was for the best and besides, you had lived through enough of Rafe’s girlfriends to know you weren’t ever going to be his type.

You’ve seen each other’s highest highs and lowest lows which, unfortunately for you both, Rafe seemed to have more than his fair share of. Much to the disappointment of your parents and the shock of your friends, you stuck by Rafe’s side through his drug addiction and his drinking problems and were there to pick up the pieces after his father died. Rafe, in turn, had your back when you had blow up fights with your mother and comforted you when you had problems with your friends.

Now, two years out of college and with Rafe mostly sober, you didn’t think there was anything you two couldn’t handle, nothing you couldn’t face together, nothing that could ever come between you.

Until you started dating Parker.

Rafe seemed happy for you when you first told him, hugging you and telling you he was proud of you for “finally getting some.” He was nice to Parker (by Rafe’s standards, which really meant not going out of his way to intimidate the guy) when you brought him to the beach and introduced them.

But as the weeks went by, you noticed a subtle shift in Rafe’s behaviour. You kept telling yourself you were being paranoid, that there’s no way Rafe could have an issue with Parker. He told you he was happy for you, right? And unlike the last potential boyfriends, Rafe didn’t try to scare him off.

But something was off.

You noticed Rafe was falling back into old habits that scared you. He was drinking more, often double parked at parties, and either loud and belligerent or sulking on his own in a corner.

And then then the incidents began. At first you just thought it was shit luck, but then it just started to feel like the universe was conspiring against you and Parker.

Turns out Rafe was conspiring against you and Parker.

It started when Parker seemingly ghosted you on one of your Friday night dates, leaving you alone and upset at the wharf before Rafe picked you up. Parker swore he had car issues, both his front tires punctured, and you figured that was a reasonable excuse.

Then the night of the annual bonfire, a harmless game of ‘never have I ever’ turned sour when Rafe and Topper kept coming up with the most oddly specific scenarios. Each of them left Parker putting down his fingers, looking sheepishly over at you as your cheeks turned red from embarrassment before you got up and left the circle, Rafe raising a beer bottle to his lips as he watched you intently. He followed after you that night and you melted into his arms, naïvely assuming your best friend was comforting you without an ulterior motive.

And now the worst of all – Topper had cornered you as you were leaving the driving range to ask if you knew Parker was spending time with his ex, and you finally snapped.

“Where did you hear this, Topper? Who told you?”

And because Topper was, above all, really just spineless, you got the answer out of him straight away.

Rafe. At the scene of the crime, three times in a row. What a fucking coincidence.

So, you decided you’d had enough of this bullshit, of Rafe playing games with your relationship, and you drove over to his house, marched up to his front door and banged on it with your fist until he finally opened up.

“Y/N!” he said, looking genuinely excited to see you. “What are you doing here?”

You took a deep breath, willing yourself not to lose your shit just yet, not to get angry until you actually knew the truth.

“Do you like Parker? Do you want me to be with him?”

Rafe blinked at you, his blue eyes narrowing in confusion.

“What? I don’t-”

“Tell me the truth,” you cut in. “I want to hear you say it.”

Rafe stepped over the threshold and gently closed the door behind him, clearing his throat before he answered.

“No. I don’t, and I want you to break up with him,” he said, folding his arms.

You huffed out a humourless laugh.

“Right, well, that’s not going to happen. Thanks a lot,” you say, willing yourself not to cry as you turn around and walk away from your best friend.

“Y/N, please come back. I have my reasons!” Rafe raises his voice as he calls out to you.

“Why do you care so much? Is this some fake chivalrous ‘if I can’t have you, no one can’ bullshit? Just leave me alone, Rafe.” You say as you clamber down the front steps and start walking to your car.

“Because I love you, alright?!” Rafe shouts after you.

You stop, the righteous anger you were feeling only moments before threatening to dissipate into the humid night air. You close your eyes, inhaling deeply before turning around to face your best friend.

Rafe’s breathing heavily, running his hand over his head as if to erase what he just said.

“Fuck,” he hisses, his ring glinting in the moonlight as he chews on his thumb, looking pleadingly at you, willing you to say something, anything. The silence between you feels heavy as your mind races. He’s said it before of course, but it’s usually in jest, or after you help him with something. This feels different, and you know better than to assume it’s not.

“Rafe,” you say, fighting to keep your voice steady. “What are you doing?” You watch him warily as he takes a hesitant step towards you.

“I love you. I’m serious. More than best friends, more than anything we’ve been in the past. I love you and I…I can’t stand to see you with someone else. I can’t let it happen.”

“You have no right-”

“He’s not a good guy, y/n!” Rafe raises his voice again, making you flinch slightly. You scoff at his words, throwing him an incredulous glare.

“Like you can talk, Rafe. I know you – more than anyone else. You’re not exactly in a position to be telling me who’s good for me or not,” you snap.

Rafe huffs, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “Yeah, you got me. I’m not perfect, fine, but I know you and I know you shouldn’t be with Parker. That’s why I-” Rafe stops abruptly, his mouth twisting.

You step closer to him, closing the gap between you. “That’s why you what, Rafe?” Your heart pounds and you’re sure you’re about to have your suspicions confirmed. When Rafe stands there, dumbstruck and silent, you answer for him.

“You’re the one who started that rumour about Parker and his ex, aren’t you?”

Rafe’s silence tells you everything you need to know. You shake your head, not quite believing that your best friend would try and sabotage your relationship like this.

“And the bonfire? That was on purpose, wasn’t it? You got some dirt on Parker and wanted me to know about it.”

Rafe winced. “Well, Topper helped with that one. But seriously, this is all for your own good. I’m trying to protect you!”

You hold your hand up. “Stop. Just stop. How could you do this? Why would you try and break us up like this, just because you’re jealous? Why can’t you just let me be happy? Not to mention, you’ve been hurting me, Rafe! You’re not just hurting Parker; you’re destroying me in the process.”

You’re crying now, feeling betrayed. You had barely noticed but it had started to rain, the droplets mixing with your tears to run mascara down your cheeks. Rafe has the audacity to look concerned and regretful, to move as if to hug you and you shake his arm off before jabbing your index finger into his chest.

“You don’t get to decide what’s best for me, Rafe. You had your chance! For years! Just because you’ve finally fucking woken up doesn’t mean you get to ruin my happiness. And now this bullshit about Parker’s family? That’s low, even for you,” you spit, the brief warmth you felt when Rafe told you he loved you now completely cold.

Rafe shook his head. “No, no, you don’t get it! That’s all true! They’re shady fucking people and God, that’s coming from a Cameron. You can’t get caught up in their mess,” he pleads.

“You must be out of your goddamn mind if you think I’m going to believe you now! Why should I?” you yell before spinning on your heel and stalking down the driveway to your car, being careful to not slip on the pavement.

“Y/N, wait!” Rafe calls and he catches up to you in two long strides, grabbing your wrist with his large hand. His white button-down shirt was almost transparent now and the rain was running in rivers off his nose as he looked down at you.

“Please,” he begs. “Come inside. Let me explain. I love you, y/n, please,” Rafe looks desperate, and you almost pity him before you snap back to reality and remember why you’re so angry.

“I’m going to my boyfriend’s house,” you snarl, tugging your wrist out of his grip. “And if you follow me Rafe, I swear to God, I will never speak to you again.”

With that, you yank open your car door and put the keys in the ignition with shaking hands.

“FUCK!”

As you pull away, you can hear Rafe yelling your name.

You don’t even look in the rearview mirror as you turn out of his street, tires squealing.

[confiaenanaa]

Can I request an angsty one where the reader and Marshall/Em/Slim (whichever you prefer) they have an argument and at one point he tells her he doesn't need her, he can have whoever he wants and they won't complain about anything like she does. And obviously she feels hurt bc it's always been an insecurity of hers that he could have anyone. And he just confirmed her fear. Hopefully with a happy ending tho🙏🏻❤️ please and thank you! Sorry it's so long lol.

needed - eminem

fem!y/n x Marshall Mathers

masterlist

synopsis: Marshall says he doesn't need her, but what does he do when he doesn't have her?

warnings: cursing, drinking

A/N: loved this request! very fun to write. if you guys want anything written, my asks are open. hope you enjoy!

-Fuck you! 

-Oh, piss off!

Shouts could be heard from the Mathers residence that night. Y/N and Marshall were arguing over something stupid, again. They seemed to be having these arguments more and more often these days. This time, however, they were arguing over Marshall’s lack of communication. He’d have a bad day, be rude to Y/N, and when she’d ask what was wrong he’d blow up at her without telling her what bothered him. Today it seemed like he’d had an extra bad day. 

…

He got home from the studio later than usual. Y/N was reasonably worried, and when she called, he wouldn’t answer. So, once he got home, she asked him a ton of questions; questions like “where were you?” “what happened?” “are you alright?”. This angered him to no end since he hates explaining himself to people.

He refused to answer questions. Y/N knew he’d probably just had a rough day so she decided to make him his favorite home-cooked meal and some hot cocoa and treat him to a lovely night at home. But, when she brought him his food and drink, he just told her he wasn’t hungry, even after seeing all the effort she was putting in for him. 

That’s when something inside of her just snapped. She set the plate and mug on the table fecklessly, spilling some cocoa in the process. Marshall seemed a bit startled, knowing Y/N doesn’t usually throw fits like this and she usually keeps her temper in check. 

-God, Marsh! Would it kill you to at least give me a thank you? I’ve tried so hard to find out what’s wrong, and you won’t tell me! What happened to me being your #1 and your best friend? And come on! Look at this meal I made for you! Can’t you see how badly I want you to let me help you? 

-Fuck! I’m sorry I’m not living up to your boyfriend standards, Y/N! But, clearly, I had a rough day so just drop it! 

-You know what Marshall? I have bad days too! But you don’t see me bitching about it and acting like a little kid every time something doesn’t go my way! And even when I do feel upset, I tell you what’s wrong! Because I actually care about your feelings and I wouldn’t want you to worry!

- Oh, so, now I don’t care?! All I ever do is care about you Y/N! I write songs about you, I buy you everything you look at to make you happy, not to mention I make you feel pretty damn good!

- It’s not about that Marsh! God, are you even listening to me?! I don’t care that you’re upset, or that you’re in a bad mood or feeling mean; I just want you to tell me! I want you to communicate with me! I want us to work through our problems calmly, without me having to shout to get your attention!

-You always say that, but you never actually do it! Whenever you’re upset you just stay quiet! So don’t go telling me how to deal with my problems because you sure as hell don’t know how to deal with yours!

-Fuck you!

-Oh, piss off!

-Fuck, Marsh! This isn’t about me! We can work through what I do, but you seriously need to stop! 

-Stop it, Y/N! Stop already! If everything I do is so terrible and wrong, then why not just break up with me already? 

-Because I love you! I care so much about you and I just wish you could see it.

-You’re just saying that because you know I don’t need your ass. You know I can get with whoever the hell I want and they won't criticize me or complain about everything I do half as much as you do!

Y/N stayed silent for a bit. Her heart dropped and she could feel the lump develop in her throat. All this time she was with Marshall, she’d had her insecurities. But, he helped her work through them slowly. He helped her make sure she knew he’d never hurt her like that.

But, now, all that hard work was out the window. With those simple words. The tears began to prick her eyes and she looked down at the floor to try and conceal it. She felt like a little girl being yelled at. She felt helpless, and small. The man who was supposed to love her the most, to protect her, had failed her. He made her feel alone.

Marshall instantly felt a wave of regret wash over him. He felt it surge from his mind up to the tips of his ears down to the points of his toes. He looked at the girl he loves, knowing how badly he just hurt her. He opened his mouth to apologize, knowing he’d gone too far and he didn’t mean it; but, before he could, she had walked past him and into their bedroom. He quickly turned on his heels to follow her. 

Y/N was grabbing a few of her things: a hoodie, her phone charger, some gum, her earbuds, and some shoes. He once again tried to apologize but she wouldn’t hear it. He followed her all the way down to the garage and watched as she hopped in her car and sped off. He wasn’t sure where she was going, and, to be honest, neither was she. 

She hated herself for complaining and she hated him for being so mean to her. But, deep down, she knew she loved him more than anything and everything. She gripped her steering wheel harder, and turned up the volume of the song she was listening to. 

She pulled into the parking lot for some random bar she heard of from one of her friends. Her friend said it was the best place to go if you’re feeling sad or having a rough night. 

When she walked in, the bar looked exactly how she felt. It was dimly lit, the smell reeking of alcohol and cigarette smoke. There were barely enough people to call a crown in there, all sitting far apart with a drink in hand. Everyone looked glum in there, so she’d blend right in. She sat at the bar and ordered herself a few shots of rum. She downed them quickly, not feeling much different. She then ordered herself a vodka, which she kept refilling until the bartender just gave her the bottle. 

She kept feeling her phone buzz in her pocket. She assumed it was Marshall. She didn’t really want to respond, but she still looked, just in case. It was actually a text from her best friend asking what happened. Of course. Marshall texted her friend to see if Y/N was okay (since she usually goes to her best friend in times of need). Y/N decided not to answer, she was in more of a “fuck the world” kind of mood.

She set her phone down on the counter, finally feeling the effects of the alcohol. She wasn’t sure how she was going to get home or if she was going to get home at all. Before she could continue that thought, she saw a series of texts, making her phone buzz repeatedly. 

The contact name read “marsh :)”. She truly didn’t want to speak to him at the moment. She wasn’t sure why what he said affected her this way, but it did, and he knew that. She knew she was probably just being sensitive, but she couldn’t help but feel attacked. 

She looked at her phone again and saw Marshall’s concerned text chain.

“hello?”

“babyyy??”

“look baby i’m so sorry i know i messed up big time. please call me back so i can fix this.”

She didn’t bother reading the rest. She got more texts from him and her best friend. They seemed really concerned now. It was unlike Y/N, not answering the phone. It was cold, far too cold for someone of her character. However, Y/N wasn’t in the mood or the headspace to care about her character. She was too busy trying to keep her head upright as her vision blurred a bit from the effects of the white russian she was creating in her stomach at the moment. From that point forward, she couldn’t really recollect anything that had happened. The next thing she knew, she felt a pair of strong arms lifting her up by the waist and into their arms bridal-style. 

…

The next day, Y/N woke up in her bed alongside a snoring Marshall that had his arms wrapped around her tightly. She slowly shimmied out of his embrace, head beginning to pound when she stood up. She went downstairs and sat at the kitchen table with a small tonic for hangovers in hand. 

As she was washing the cup she was just using, Y/N heard a set of booming footsteps as they pounded against the wooden staircase. She turned around to look at Marshall. He looked incredible. His hair was a bit tousled and his eyes and lips were puffy. He came down and approached her without a second thought. The first thing he did was put his lips against hers. The kiss was warm, brilliant. 

Y/N crumpled under his touch. He pulled back and smiled slightly at her. His heart grew seeing her in front of him. He smiled even wider when he saw her smile back; however, he knew he wasn’t forgiven just yet. 

-Wait, look, I gotcha something.

He quickly walked into the living room and grabbed a small box and turned to the kitchen.

-I bought this a while ago. I wanted to give it to you somewhere better but this seemed like the right time.

Y/N opened the little box gingerly, a little nervous to see its contents. Her jaw dropped a tad when she saw it. 

A small ring, diamond encrusted and the exact type of metal she wears. It was perfectly tailored to her tastes. She looked up at him, eyebrow slightly raised.

-It’s a promise ring. I know what I said last night was fucked up but I didn’t mean it at all. I love you more than anything and you know that. I could never be with anyone else knowing that you’re out there in the world. 

He took the ring out of the box and secured it onto her finger. He then kissed her hand softly. She smiled taking in the view.

Then, she knew, more than anything, that she was truly loved.

[blushweddinggowns]

Eddie hadn’t had Steve for a week and he was already terrified of losing him. Terrified enough to examine every preventative measure he could to make sure he wasn’t going anywhere. He didn’t know what that said about him, the sudden paranoia that came with the delight of being with him. Eddie wasn’t in the mood to examine it either, not when the rest of his time was dedicated to romancing the fuck out of his new boyfriend. 

He wasn’t sure if he was actually good at it, but Steve seemed to be enjoying his attempts. He wasn’t going crazy, but Eddie developed an appreciation for all the cute, romantic nonsense pretty damn quick. A hand on Steve’s thigh while they were driving, an arm over his shoulder whenever they were settled on the couch together, showering him in compliments, getting him shit, little things here and there. Stuff that Eddie used to walk by and think, Steve would like that, before promptly reminding himself that buying your gay best friend random gifts could be construed in the wrong way. 

Now that thought process was dead nothing was stopping Eddie from invading local embankments to hunt for the kind of wild flowers Steve liked, always willing and ready to risk falling into trenches if it meant getting him to smile.

It was a lot. Eddie knew he was being a lot but… he didn’t want to play it fast and loose with Steve. Not anymore. He didn’t want any more confusion, anymore doubt. Even if it meant slapping Steve in the face with affection. It didn’t matter, not when he was eating it the fuck up. Running around all happy and adorable for the entire day when Eddie did anything sweet. 

Eddie was in the exact same frame of mind, living on cloud nine ever since he stopped the shitshow. It had taken less than a week for him to admit to himself that he was addicted to the man’s mouth. Just one more vice to add to the massive pile when it came to Steve. But his lips had driven him insane. 

He tried to be normal about it, to keep things light and romantic when he’d kiss him. Especially since he was still waiting for that fucking call.  But Eddie could never keep it chaste. It could be as simple as a sweet peck in the morning before Steve went to work. Eddie would try to keep it normal, casual and quick. Then Steve would do something, a small sigh, a little blush, a breathy laugh. And Eddie would just break. 

from the next chapter of this fic

[kbbueckers]

house party

characters: caitlin clark x reader

overview: caitlin punches your homophobic and toxic ex boyfriend, tiny bit of fluff at the end

warnings: tiny bit of angst, tiny bit of blood, violence, homophobia from ex

caitlin has been your girlfriend for about two or three years, you and caitlin were at a house party because you begged her to go with you for weeks, and she finally agreed. turns out the begging wasn't even worth it, you weren't having fun. the music was bad, there was no food, and your ex was here. 

"i'm gonna go get a drink, kk?" you laid her down on the couch as she whispered something you didn't really hear. as you were refilling your cup, the one person you've been trying your best all night to avoid came up to you. 

jay was your boyfriend back before you even knew you were a lesbian. once you realized, you broke up with him because "the spark was gone." atleast that's how you worded it. he really never got over it, and still tries to hit on you every now and then. 

"you've been avoiding me, haven't you?" he asked, leaning against the door frame. you at first thought to not even reply, but you knew that would only make the situation worst. "if you know someone's avoiding you, why come up to them?" you went to walk away before he grabbed your arm, convincing you to stay.

"i've missed you." he attempted to touch your hair before you slapped his hand away. without your knowledge, caitlin had followed you through the crowd and saw the whole interaction with him.

caitlin was extremely overprotective, she has always made attachments to people easily, especially you. ever since you started dating, caitlin wouldn't let you out of her sight. either following you everywhere like a little puppy dog, or dragging you everywhere she went, you thought it was cute. 

"is he bothering you?" she asked. coming up behind you, and grabbing you waist to pull you back from him. caitlin knew your history with him. you always used to tell her whether you found out you were gay or not you still would've eventually ended things with him.

he treated you horribly the whole relationship. when you used to live with him in his apartment, anytime he got the slightest bit of angry, even if it wasn't your fault, he would kick you out. there were many nights where you had to knock on friends doors asking can you stay the night.

caitlin was one of those friends. you would cry to her many nights about how you couldn't do this anymore, and how bad he would make you feel. she always thought you deserved better, and now you had better.

you shake your head no. saving jay the trouble, knowing she could, and would, beat his ass. "this is none of your business." he starts to get defensive with caitlin, deciding to start trouble even though she's about a foot taller than him. 

"i'm her girlfriend, and it seems like you're bothering her, so it is my business." caitlin starts to get louder, and all up in his face. not sure if it was the alcohol or what, but she was ready to fight.

"oh so you're kissing girls now?" he turned to you in surprise. "that's none of your business." you replied. "man just leave her alone, she clearly doesn't wanna speak to you." caitlin brushed him off, turning around back to me as we both started to walk away. before we were able to walk away fully, jay muttered something.

"whatever, fuckin' homos"

what. the. hell. 

you and caitlin both stopped in your tracks, before you could even turn around to stop caitlin from doing whatever she was about to do, she turned around quick, serving a punch to jay's nose. he made a loud sound on the ground from falling, taking a few chairs with him, and the whole keg of beer, causing everyone to turn around in shock.

"come on baby, let's go." caitlin tugged your arm a few times before pointing to the door, turning around like she didn't just punch your ex boyfriend in the nose.

you nodded as you turned around to see jay's friends helping him up off the ground, his nose bleeding bad, and a puddle of beer forming around him. everyone around us was staring at caitlin, muttering and whispering, but she didn't care as we walked out of the house and into the cold. caitlin's arm around your shoulders, holding you tighter than when you first walked in.

caitlin was driving home in silence with her hand resting on your thigh, you couldn't help but notice the small red spots on her knuckles.

"are your hands okay?" she shook her head. "i'm good baby, thanks."

even though caitlin told you her hand was fine, once you got home you insisted on putting some ice on it and wrapping it. you were sitting on her lap and holding her fingers while dabbing the ice on them lightly.

"i'm sorry for punching him." she spoke up. you shook your head. "no, no. i wanna thank you. he definitely won't mess with me anymore." caitlin nodded. "why didn't you tell me he was bothering you?" caitlin wrapped her arms around your waist as she pulled you closer. you shrugged your shoulders in response "i didn't want this to happen." 

once you were finished wrapping her fingers, caitlin got both you and her ready for bed before you cuddled up against each other,  resting from the long night you just had. 

this kinda sucks but i've been working on it all afternoon and im tired, really hope you enjoy.

tips on how to improve my writing are greatly appreciated

-kbbueckers💋

[bokutosbabe]

Did You See Me On TV?

( bllk boys and being in a long distance relationship )

a/n — thought about this and just HAD to write. no long distance relationship experience, but def some long distance friendship experience. rather short, but i had to get it out.

content — fem! reader, set in the ' Neo Egoist ' era, some characters repeated, all characters 18+, angst, fluff, maybe some ooc for some people??, nicknames 'love' , 'babe' , 'baby' , ' my girl ' , and 'sweetheart' used

synopsis — yes, he's a world famous soccer player, but he's also your boyfriend. how does this effect your relationship?

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' you tell yourself it's fine, ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' radio silence '

it's been a month since your boyfriend had left to go play for the soccer team he'd been assigned to, and what had you heard from him?

...complete and utter silence.

you understood he was busy now, you really did, but he hadn't even called while he'd been gone. any text he sent was no more than 3 words.

you were still in love with him, but was he in love with you anymore? had he forgotten all about you? was there another girl that was better than you?

the promise the two of you had made before he left sat on your tongue like lead now.

" you'll come back whenever you can, right? " you'd asked him. " for you? always. i couldn't imagine a life without you. i promise i'll call every chance i get. "

you stared at your phone, the text you'd sent him before his game started staring back at you...mocking you.

you: good luck, love!! i'm rooting for you from home! i love you, have fun, don't get hurt. call me when you can <3

it was almost pitiful. three almost exact texts sat above that one, and he hadn't even bothered to read them until after the game, simply replying with a...

him <3 : thanks

and no, if you were wondering, he hadn't ever called you.

and here you were, like a fool, curled up in your bed watching his game on live TV, watching as he made his second goal of the day.

maybe, just maybe, he'd call you after this one.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ SAE ITOSHI, isagi yoichi, RIN ITOSHI, oliver aiku, OTOYA EITA, rensuke kunigami

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' a complete mess '

he'd been gone a month, and you can't count a single day he hasn't called you three times at minimum. you'd been together for a while, but you never realized how much he relied on you to do basic everyday tasks for him.

"babe? do you know where i usually keep my long socks?" you heard come from your phone speaker as you were trying to do your own homework, mind you.

" usually in the middle of your top drawer next to your underwear. unless you've changed it. " you stated, he'd asked you this question every single time he had a game since he had left, but you wouldn't dare expect him to remember that.

" you're the best, baby. what would i do without you? " your boyfriend asked as he pulled socks out of his drawer, propping his phone up on the bedside lamp as he slid the socks onto his feet.

" lose your head, probably. " you joked, looking up from your work to admire him.

yes, everyone got to see him as the big, bad soccer player on TV, but with you? he seemed like a completely different person, not someone who could get a hat trick and also simultaneously asking where their phone is while it's in their hand.

" your games soon, love. you gotta get going. " you helpfully reminded him, as if you were his personal alarm ( you were but that's besides the point )

" ah crap, thank you baby. i'll call you after i win," he said cheekily. " i'll score a goal just for you, so make sure you watch!"

" you know i will. call you later, i love you. " you reflected his smile through the phone. " i love you too! " he repeated. and just as you were about to press the 'end call' button...

"oh, baby? do you remember where i put my jersey?"

yeah, without you he'd be a train wreck.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ NAGI SEISHIRO, bachira meguru, HIORI YO, gin gagamaru, ZANTETSU TSURUGI, ranze kurona

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' basically married '

it'd been a month since your boyfriend had left to go play professional soccer, and out of the four games he had played, you'd been flown out for three of them.

" do you like it? " he asked giddily, as if he was a child on christmas morning waiting to open presents. but instead of a gift, it was him showing you the hotel room he'd gotten you so you could watch his game this week too.

" you're too sweet to me, love. i would've been happy just sitting at home and cheering you on from there. " you told him. " nope! you're no longer allowed to watch the games from home," he said as if it was a fact.

oh, soccer players and their superstitions.

" even the whole team agrees! my girl is our lucky charm! "

the one game you missed, because you had a big test may i add, they lost. it wasn't a horrible loss, no, they went into additional time and lost 5-4.

your shock and confusion must have been written all of your face, because he just laughed. " c'mon sweetheart, why don't you just come live with me here ? "

many reasons, actually. you still had school, it was across the world (not really but it felt like it ), your family, your friends.

he knew all of this, of course. there usually wasn't a day that you seriously considered it. considered being here, with him, instead of having to facetime and miss him.

one day, you would, but not now...you think.

"oh, hush. you gotta get going, you have a game to win." you huffed, pushing at his shoulder to hopefully get him going out the door.

"alright, alright. i'll come back with you after the game, sweetheart. i love you, see you after my win! "

and win he would, because he swore to himself that if he won this game the velvet box that was hiding in his dresser would finally be able to come out.

but, hey, even if he didn't win, would you say no to the ring he had custom made for you?

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ REO MIKAGE, isagi yoichi, YUKIMIYA KENYU, chigiri hyoma, nijiro nanase, BARO SHOEI

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' you're just in love ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

this was really written on a whim, but i hope yall liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs appreciated!

[misshoneyimhome]

Reader is devasted by Willy shaving his beard, and Wily is on a mission to prove his stache is as good as his full beard. I got inspired by this picture of the reader talking dirty to him on the phone before his game https://www.instagram.com/p/C7b6t90I43X/?img_index=2

Oh babe! This is just way too hot 😜 I’ve got to admit, the moustache is growing on me, but I definitely miss the beard! 😏 Willy, of course, looks gorgeous no matter what, but just like the reader, I wouldn’t be able to resist teasing him either 🤭

Tropes & warnings: Inexperienced!reader x Willy, established relationship, 18+ smut, f masturbating, sex toy (magic wand), thigh riding, oral sex (f recieving)

Word count: 3.5K

➼｡ﾟ

Call me on my cell phone | inexperienced!reader x William Nylander ✐☆

William Nylander was everything from the absolute best boyfriend you could ever wish for to the worst of the worst. Just as caring, loving, and devoted as he could be, he was equally capable of acting careless and cool. But one thing he never neglected was you. Well, and his style—he just always carried an innate confidence about how he looked.

William knew he was good-looking, and it wasn’t just because social media constantly reminded him. He had this effortless charm, no matter how he styled himself. Whether it was slicked-back hair that made him look suave and polished, a long, untamed mane that gave him a wild edge, or even when he experimented with cornrows, he pulled off each look with undeniable flair.

His confidence wasn’t just about his hair though. It extended to his fashion choices, which were unapologetically him. William didn’t just follow trends; he set them. Baggy jeans, oversized t-shirts, caps perched at just the right angle, and a collection of jewellery that ranged from subtle chains to bold statement pieces—he wore each item like it was tailored just for him. It was this nonchalance about what others thought that made him so captivating. He wore what he wanted, how he wanted, and made it look effortless.

Sometimes, his style choices seemed deliberately contrary to what everyone else around him was wearing. If sleek suits and tailored cuts were the norm, William would turn up in something street-inspired, casual yet impeccably put together. It was as if he thrived on standing out, on being the one everyone couldn’t help but notice.

And you absolutely admired this about him—the way he could walk into a room and own it, no matter what he was wearing. His confidence wasn’t boastful; it was just there, an intrinsic part of who he was. It was one of the many things that made him irresistible.

Yet, today was different. Today, he had decided to shave his beard - into a moustache.

You’d seen the pictures from the morning skate, and your heart sank as you took in the sight of him. While the sharp angles of his jawline remained undeniably attractive, the sleek moustache felt like an entirely new persona. It was bold, it was daring, and it was undeniably William, but it also stirred a mix of emotions within you. The rugged charm that had wrapped around him like a warm hug was replaced by a playful confidence, and though he wore it well, you couldn’t shake the feeling of loss for the familiar softness of his beard.

The moustache was sharp and defined, drawing attention to his full, pink lips and the intensity of his gaze. You couldn’t deny that he looked good—hell, he looked fucking hot—but the change left you feeling a bit disoriented. The warmth and softness of his beard had been replaced with a distinct, clean line of hair that was both intriguing and unsettling. It was as if he had traded in one kind of intimacy for another, and part of you longed for the familiar brush of hair against your cheek when he pulled you close.

You sighed, staring at your phone, fingers hesitating over the keyboard. Did you really want to address this? You knew you could text him, tease him about the new look, but a part of you worried he might take it the wrong way. After all, he seemed to be embracing this bold change, and who were you to rain on his parade? Yet the more you looked at the pictures, the more you felt compelled to share your feelings.

So, reaching for your phone, you decided to send him a quick message. 

Hey, I know you’re probably getting ready for tonight’s game, but… I just can’t stop thinking about you. About how I’m still not over you shaving 😜

You knew William was probably resting in his hotel room, or doing some light work out, like he usually did before a game on the road. Still, your boyfriend—and his moustache—were very much on your mind.

And to your surprise, William called you within just a few minutes.

“Mmm, what do you mean? You don’t like it?”

His voice was rich with amusement, a playful lilt that made your heart skip a beat. You could practically see the smirk on his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners the way they always did when he was teasing you.

You chuckled softly, pressing the phone closer to your ear. “I didn’t say that,” you replied, your tone equally teasing. “It’s just… different. You know how much I loved the beard. Especially between my thighs… giving me those sweet burns…”

William let out a low chuckle. “Ah, so that’s what you miss the most,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a deeper, more seductive tone. “Those sweet burns, hmm? You’re making it hard to focus on the game tonight.”

You bit your lip, feeling a rush of heat at his words. “Oops, I can’t help it,” you whispered, the playfulness in your tone laced with desire. “I was just thinking about… the way you used to kiss me… the roughness of your beard against my skin… it drove me wild.”

“Fuck, you’re not going to let this go, are you,” he said, his voice husky with longing. “But I mean… I can still give you everything you need, älskling. Just wait until tomorrow night.”

“Mmm, tomorrow night, huh?” you murmured, a playful smile curling your lips. “You think one night’s going to be enough to convince me?”

“I think one night will be more than enough,” he replied, his confidence dripping through the phone. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be begging me to keep the moustache.”

Your breath hitched at his boldness, your heart racing at the thought of what he had planned. “Big talk, Mr. Nylander.”

“Oh, you know I always back it up,” he teased, the smirk evident in his tone. “Get ready, älskling. Tomorrow night, it’s just you, me, and this moustache. Let’s see if you’re still missing the beard after that.”

“Hmm, I guess I’ll just have to be patient then,” you said, your voice a little breathless.

“We’ll see if you can do that,” he quipped, a chuckle escaping him. “But I promise it’ll be worth the wait.”

You bit your lip, trying to steady your racing heart. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Good,” he murmured, his tone softening slightly. “Maybe I’ll even show it off to the camera for you during the match. Giving you something to dream about.”

With that, he hung up, leaving you with a mix of excitement and nerves thrumming through your veins. Tomorrow night promised to be unforgettable, and you couldn’t wait to see just how persuasive William could be.

For now, though, you’d settle in and watch the game, your thoughts drifting to his words. Every glance he shot toward the camera, every determined look he wore on the ice seemed to feed the spark he’d ignited. But as the game wound down and the team celebrated a big win, the anticipation became almost unbearable. So, you slipped into your bedroom, a little smile on your face, unable to resist indulging in some alone time to tide you over until tomorrow.

Lying back on the bed, you allowed your legs to spread as you pleasured yourself with one of the toys William had bought you. The Magic Wand. You let your mind wander, replaying his voice, his confident promise. You could practically feel his rough stubble ghosting across your skin, his warm breath on your neck, that deep, playful look in his eyes as he teased you. With every memory of his touch, every thought of the way his beard had felt against you, the ache inside you grew. It was as if he were right there, his body pressing down against yours, his hands roaming over your skin.

The vibrations against your clit built up slowly, matching the steady beat of your pulse as you allowed yourself to let go completely. Each shift of your body and each breath drew you closer, and the more you imagined his rough hands on you, the deeper the pleasure became. With every whispered thought, every memory of his laugh and his teasing smirk, you felt yourself teetering on the edge, your breath coming out in broken, desperate sounds.

And the release when it came was overwhelming. Your body arched off the bed, his name spilling from your lips in a gasp as you rode the waves of pleasure, stars bursting behind your closed eyelids. For a moment, all you could feel was bliss, a warmth settling over you, leaving you spent yet entirely content.

As you lay there, catching your breath, a smile tugged at your lips. You couldn’t wait for tomorrow night. 

_

William wasn’t kidding when he said he’d show you just what he could do with his moustache—or rather, with his mouth. Though it wasn’t the first time he pleasured you orally, and knowing how skilled he was, you could barely keep up with him, caught up in the intensity of his kisses from the moment he stepped through the door.

After he’d greeted the dogs of course, he had only one thing in mind: you, straddling him, before you were his dessert for the evening. 

The living room TV was on in the background, a show half-forgotten, serving only as the backdrop to the warmth of William’s hands on you and the heat of his mouth exploring yours. He kissed you deeply, tasting and teasing with every roll of his tongue. His hands cupped your buttocks, squeezing and guiding you as your bodies moved together on the sofa in a languid rhythm.

Your hands were in his hair moaning into his mouth, lost in the delicious friction as you rolled your hips, your body pressing against his. His lips were hot and insistent, the softness of his moustache brushing against your skin, adding a surprising thrill to each kiss. His hands slipped down to guide you further until you were straddling his right thigh, perched perfectly over the thick muscle, just where he knew you wanted to be.

“Come on, baby,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing as his fingers tightened on your hips. “Show me how much you’ve missed me.”

You pressed down, finding a slow, satisfying rhythm as you ground against his thigh, the pressure building with every move. You were clad in nothing but a pair of panties and one of William’s t-shirts, leaving very little of a barrier between your sensitive core and his strong muscles. His hands on your hips held you firmly in place, encouraging each roll of your cunt against him. The bare skin of his thigh was already showing a damp spot where you were leaving your mark, and he couldn’t help but smirk at how easily he had you unravelling.

You whimpered as he brought his mouth back to yours, letting his lips trail down to your neck, leaving gentle bites and kisses along the way. Each graze of his moustache sent a shiver down your spine, heightening the pleasure as you rode his thigh. The friction, the heat between your bodies, and the delicious drag of your clit against his skin had you practically clinging to him, your nails digging into the skin of his shoulder blades as your breaths came faster.

William pulled back for a moment, his blue eyes dark with desire as he watched you, his smirk growing wider. “God, you’re soaked, aren’t you?” His voice was a mixture of admiration and lust, and you felt yourself blushing under his gaze, even as you continued to grind down against him, desperate for more.

“Willy…” you gasped, your voice breathless and needy.

“Mmhm?” He tilted his head, his hands sliding up to cup your face as he kissed you again, deep and possessive. “Keep going, älskling. Don’t stop now. I want you to come for me.”

You moaned as his hands returned to your hips, urging you to pick up the pace, your body moving against his thigh with a newfound intensity. Each grind, each press of your body, sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, building toward that perfect edge.

Finally, he shifted just slightly beneath you, his thigh pressing up harder, giving you just the right amount of pressure as you reached that crest. Your body tensed, and with a gasp of his name, you fell over the edge, pleasure crashing over you in shuddering waves as he held you close, his lips pressing against your neck in a trail of tender kisses.

When you finally came down, you buried your face in the crook of his neck, breathless and spent, and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you even closer.

“Fuck baby, you’re so hot,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “Now let’s move to the bedroom for your real treat, eh?”

His words were a low murmur in your ear, each one like a spark igniting the warmth still lingering in your body. You barely had a moment to catch your breath before William guided you to your feet, his hand finding yours with a soft squeeze as he led you towards the bedroom. The anticipation grew with each step. You stole a glance up at him, catching the glint in his blue eyes, that smirk still lingering as he took in the sight of you, flushed and slightly unsteady, completely under his spell.

Once inside, William wasted no time. His lips were on yours again, intense and unyielding, drawing every bit of tension from you as his hands explored, caressing your curves, leaving a trail of heat wherever he touched. He gently nudged you back onto the bed, following close behind as you settled against the pillows, his body pressing against yours with a comforting weight.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been thinking about this,” he almost growled, his breath warm against your skin. His hands found their way to the hem of your shirt, lifting it slowly, his fingers grazing your sides as he peeled it off.

Every touch, every glance, was deliberate, his eyes drinking you in with such intensity that it made your skin tingle. He leaned down, letting his mouth trace a line from your jaw to your collarbone, his moustache grazing your skin. The sensation felt slightly new and electrifying, different from the beard you were used to, and yet it made you crave him even more.

With each kiss, each slow, lingering touch, he built you up again, taking his time as he mapped every inch of your body, his attention to you unwavering. When he finally pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes were filled with that familiar mix of adoration and heat, a look that always made you feel like you were the only one in the world.

“Ready for that treat, baby?” William’s voice was a low, gravelly whisper. His eyes glinted with mischief, and that knowing smirk told you exactly how he intended to ruin you tonight.

You nodded, barely able to find your voice, and he wasted no time. With a gentle but determined touch, he peeled away your underwear, his fingers grazing your skin, leaving you shivering under his gaze. He spread your legs, his broad shoulders settling between them as he leaned in, his eyes never leaving yours. The room felt electrifying, making every nerve in your body come alive.

And the moment his mouth connected with your already wet cunt, your head fell back against the pillow, a soft gasp escaping your lips as pleasure bloomed through you. His tongue started slow, deliberate, teasing you with featherlight strokes that had you squirming. The tickle of his moustache added sensation. And he clearly knew the effect it had, the way it made your smile falter into soft, desperate moans as his movements grew more intentional, more intense.

Your hands clutched at the sheets as his mouth fully claimed you, his tongue now moving in long, languid strokes that had your thighs trembling around him. He focused on every inch of your sensitive flesh, lapping up every reaction with relentless dedication. His tongue teased your clit, then your entrance, each flick and suck sending waves of ecstasy coursing through you, while his lips nipped and tugged, alternating between soft and rough, keeping you on the edge with every movement.

It wasn’t long before you were utterly lost to him. The intensity was unlike anything he’d done before, a fierce passion that felt like he was on a mission to consume every part of you. And you knew he was—he wanted you trembling, wanting you to cry out his name until you could barely breathe. His hands held your hips firmly in place, grounding you, keeping you exactly where he wanted you, no matter how much you squirmed beneath his touch.

The room was filled with your cries, each whimper and gasp growing louder as William pushed you higher, his mouth never relenting. You felt like you were floating, like you’d lost control of your own body as you moved against his talented mouth, licks of his tongue, grazes of his teeth pushing you closer to that breaking point. Your hand occasionally threaded into his hair, tugging as you whimpered, desperate for more, for release.

His grip on your thighs tightened as he felt you writhe beneath him, his mouth never once losing its rhythm as he coaxed more desperate moans from you. The sensation of his moustache rubbing against your sensitive skin added a teasing edge, becoming more and more soaked from your juices. Each time you bucked your hips, trying to catch your breath, he pressed you down firmly, holding you in place with a possessive strength.

William’s mouth moved with a calculated, intoxicating precision. His tongue traced along every sensitive spot, his lips closing over your clit to draw out long, agonising waves of pleasure, only to release you at the last second, leaving you panting and eager for more. And he loved it—the way you came undone for him, the way his name slipped from your lips in breathless cries, filling the room. The smile tugging at his mouth was evident even as he continued, his lips curling against you each time you moaned louder.

“God, you taste so good,” he murmured, his voice vibrating against you, sending another surge of pleasure through your body. The sheets beneath were soaked, only confirming he was doing everything just right. Then he paused just long enough to look up, his darkened eyes locking onto yours, a glint of mischief shining through. “I want you to let go for me, baby. Don’t hold back. Come all over this fucking moustache.”

With that, he plunged back into you, his tongue and lips moving with renewed fervour, taking you even higher, closer to that crest you’d been helplessly teetering on. Your breath hitched, and your hands flew to the pillow behind you, gripping onto it like an anchor as he continued to devour you, his mouth relentless and his touch demanding.

And as his name tumbled from your lips in broken gasps, William intensified his movements, his hands pressing you closer, his mouth drawing out every ounce of pleasure he could. You felt yourself reach that point of no return, a shudder wracking through your body as you were sent spiralling into climax, your cries filling the room as you came undone completely.

But William didn’t stop, his mouth working you through every wave of ecstasy, prolonging your release until you were nearly trembling from the overstimulation. Barely able to catch your breath, he slowly pulled back, his lips glistering from your wetness, lingering on your inner thigh with one final, possessive kiss.

He looked up at you, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes, and brushed his thumb over your thigh with a gentle touch. “Told you I’d make you love the moustache,” he murmured, a proud, warm smile spreading across his face. The smirk that followed had your heart racing all over again, as if he hadn’t already left you breathless.

Your smile was slow, still hazy with bliss as you managed to catch your breath. “Can’t argue with that…” you murmured, exhaling deeply, your body still buzzing from the intensity of his touch.

With a low chuckle, he moved up to press a deep, lingering kiss to your lips, letting you taste yourself on his mouth. The kiss was tender but hungry, his hand cupping the back of your neck as he pulled you closer. 

Yet, just as you began to relax, thinking he’d let you come down from the high, he pulled back slightly, his gaze sparking with that unmistakable mischievous intent. “Oh no, älskling, one orgasm isn’t enough,” he growled, making your heart race all over again.

And before you could even catch your breath, he was lowering himself between your thighs again, his hands firm as he guided your legs apart, spreading you open under his gaze. The warmth of his breath teased over your skin, heightening the sensitivity still thrumming through you from your last climax. He held your gaze for a moment, his eyes dark with intent, as if promising he’d take you even further this time.

[zestylunch]

whoopsie!

boyfriend! soap x afab! reader

TW: cheating, violence, hitting with frying pan, being tied up, anger, angst? idk, anger, betrayal, but also kind of happy ending lol,

NO SMUT but mdni probably

theres not really any pronouns for the reader but he calls her bonnie and shes just very girly so i would say she's a girl or afab!

disclaimer this is probably so bad like i just had an idea and here it is also ive never published anything on here so yeah...... erm idek if anyone is even gonna like this might delete this highkey this is probably so corny or something help

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tongue running over your top teeth, your jaw clenched as you read the messages.

Johnny: I’ll meet you with the money. ;) 

Allie: cant wait ! <3 

Johnny: I’ll be in the black pickup. Let’s make this quick, can't have her noticing. 

Allie: :)

The messages, shared shamelessly between your boyfriend, Johnny, and your best friend, Allie. You seethed with burning anger, hatred, and a sad feeling of betrayal. 

How could they do this to you? you had thought to yourself, running over mental images in your mind.

Were you not enough? 

Your lip curled in disgust at the laptop screen. Your boyfriend's phone was connected to your shared MacBook, allowing you to see all of the texts between them. Fucking idiot, you thought, scoffing at his stupidity at getting caught.

He would get home very soon. In an hour or so, you knew.

You hopped onto your own phone, blocking your best friend's number, not wanting her to ever be able to reach you again.

And, it's not like you had read any previous messages. These were clearly messages that you weren't meant to find. You had seen enough from these two, you wanted both of them out of your life. To think that you were merely a bridge for their connections? They met through you, and you had only facilitated their abilities to be around each other! They're both fucking traitors, leeches, at best! Oh, God, you had thought. I'm so naïve.

You practically snarled at the thought, a nauseating feeling appearing in your stomach, festering from the years of pent-up emotions buried deep within. Great. Another thing to add to the list of things haunting you.

You plopped down lazily on your loveseat couch, tears welling in your eyes and a familiar feeling of defeat revealing itself to you. A tear slid down your cheek, icyhot, making it's appearance in the darkness of the room. You stared over at the MacBook that was still open, the screen now on standby mode, colorful bubbles bouncing across the screen.

Something dreadful pulled you from your entranced bubble-following, and you jumped up at the sound of his pickup pulling into the driveway of your house. Scurrying over to the kitchen, you grabbed a frying pan out of your cabinet, holding it up in self-defense.

So help me, God, you thought, I'm gonna knock this motherfucker out.

You watched from the darkness of the entryway of your kitchen, stealthily hidden between the wall and your trashcan. You observed the door opening, him throwing his stupid fucking scarf over the ledge in the entryway, happily smiling, only to find the house... dark. He caught sight of the MacBook, and furrowed his eyebrows. "Bonnie... I'm back," he spoke, looking around, as he stepped further into the foyer.

He searched, listened, for any sign of you, but didn't seem to get one.

"My love?"

"You're home early," you said, quickly, as he walked by the entryway of the kitchen, before you swung the frying pan and hit him straight in the head with a whack, forcing him to the floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once his eyes peeled open, a terrible pounding at his head engulfed him. He tried to move, but he was... tied against something. A chair.

At first, the soldier he was, he believed he was captured for an interrogation, and immediately flooded with panic at the thought of you not being alright. He started to wrestle against the duct tape holding him, desperately looking around.

But he was met with the sight of you. Looking down at him, seemingly... angry?

"Bonnie!" he gasped, looking up at you, relieved to see you okay, before furrowing his eyebrows. "What's- what's thi-" he started.

"Shut your dumb fucking mouth," you hissed, leaning down to his level.

"Allie, huh?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"My best fucking friend? The person I trusted the most in this world that wasn't you!" you spat, eyes narrowing angrily.

Looking confused, and, a bit terrified to say the least, he peered up at you, his eyes glossing over.

"Bonnie, I really don't-"

You interrupted him again, slamming your finger down on the space bar of the MacBook, waking the screen up to display the text messages between the two of them. Shoving it in his face, your face twisted into an angry frown.

His glistening, blue eyes scanned over the screen of the laptop, taking in what he was reading. He didn't respond, only looking up at you with a sad look in his eyes.

Did you not like surprises, maybe?

"B-but, my love-"

"Mouth shut," you spat, again, shutting the laptop.

"Oh, the glory. The glory of being a soldier, Johnny MacTavish. A sergeant, you are. I bet everyone loves you, like I do, the funny, smiling in everyone's face, laughing and joking, Johnny. I bet your Captain wouldn't approve of you being a lying, conniving, evil fucking traitor!" you yelled, kicking his shin.

"Bonnie, what?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"How can you act like you don't know what I'm talking about?" you choked, flopping down in a chair next to him.

"It was supposed to be a surprise," he said, quietly, looking hurt and tired.

"Oh?" you asked, perking up, a sarcastic smile on your face.

"A surprise? Boy, am I fucking surprised! Hey, y/n, look, surprise! I'm fucking your best friend, and I'm paying her for it too!" you mimicked.

"What?" he asked, looking confused and horrified.

"Oh, come on!" you replied, angrily.

"Release me from this-" he peered behind himself, observing his wrists tied together at the back of the chair, "from this tape, right now, y/n."

"Not until you admit you've fucked up. Then, once I untie you, you have an hour to get the fuck out of my sight."

"What? N-No!" he hissed, fighting against the duct tape.

"If you think, even for a second, that I want you in my sight after this, you're fucking insane," you declared, inching around behind him, until he couldn't see you anymore.

"Admit it. Admit that you're a liar, and a cheater."

"But M'not," he said, struggling to turn his head and look at you.

"Really tempted to knock you out with this pan again."

"You hit me with a pan? Is that why my head is poundin-"

"ADMIT IT!"

"NO!"

"I'm raising this pan," you whispered, and he watched the shadow of it raise behind him with horrified eyes.

"Bonnie, how much of those messages did you read?" he asked, swallowing thickly.

"Oh, I decided I'd seen enough sexting after the first four messages I'd read," you spat.

With a snap, the tape securing his wrists broke, and he scrambled out of the chair, backing up against the wall away from you. Huffing and puffing, he observed your form- angry, disheveled, almost, hair stringy and draped over you, in your summer frock that you enjoy gardening in. His heart melted a bit at the sight, but it was quickly swallowed by his fear of you rushing at him with the pan.

He caught your arm before you could bring the thing all the way down on him, and snatched it away from you with a grunt. He set the pan down quickly, not wanting to appear any harm to you, and raised his hands.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, unlocking it. He tapped the screen a few times, and set the phone down slowly on the table before looking up at you, eyes glossy.

You approached slowly, arms uncrossing themselves, and leaned down to read the messages, the screen lighting up your tired face in the darkness of the dining room.

Johnny: Hello, is this Allie? This is Johnny, y/n's boyfriend. I was wondering if you'd be able to help me with something. I know you're good with surprises, y/n has told me about your surprise party antics!

Allie: hi! yes, that's me :)) what's on your mind, then?

Johnny: Well, I was planning on proposing to her.

Allie: OHMYGOD!!!! YES! :0

Johnny: Haha. I was thinking the beach as the destination, but I can't find time to go and pick up the ring from the jeweler, so do you think you could grab it for me? I'll pay you back!

Allie: yes, i'll be able to. how much should i bring?

Johnny: $1,450

Allie: no problem! just bring me the cash right after, if you don't mind. then we can discuss the whole party thing

Johnny: Okay, I'll see you tomorrow. Read 4:57 p.m.

Your breath hitched as you read through the messages, and you peered up at Johnny, eyes wide with surprise and sadness.

"Oh," you said, quietly, standing there dumb and aimlessly.

Johnny reached into his pocket, pulled out what appeared to be a red velvet box, and set it down on the kitchen table. It was briefly lit up by the phone screen until the screen went dark.

Silence fell upon the both of you. Awkward, guilty, hurt, confused, shocked silence.

"This was supposed to be a surprise," he sighed, sitting down in one of the chairs at the table, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm- I'm sorry," you said, quietly, avoiding his gaze, guilt plaguing you. I mean, shit, you'd whacked his ass with a frying pan and tied him up. And he wasn't even guilty.

"I forgive you, Bonnie," he shook his head, smiling up at you, before reaching to the side of his head where the radiating pain was coming from.

"Though my brains are probably mush, by now. You got me good. Serves me right, though, I suppose, how I made that look," he huffed, a sad smile on his face as he looked up at you from where he sat.

"I understand if you don't wanna marry me, now," you choke, wiping your eye swiftly to prevent a tear from escaping.

He didn't reply, a solemn sigh escaping him.

"I would've never done this if I had known. I'm sorry I ruined the surprise, I ruined everything, I broke your trust probably-" you started, choking as you began to cry.

You covered your face in shame, hiding away from him, guarding yourself. You sobbed, frantically, realizing that you'd probably just fucked up two of the best relationships ever gifted to you by the heavens above.

Unbeknownst to you, Johnny stood up, and grabbed the velvety box, opening it up. He knelt down to the floor, and, with the sound of his rustling, you uncovered your face, blinking down at him. You let out another sob at the sight.

"Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife, y/n?" he asked, quietly, solemnly, but shakily. You could hear the fear in his voice.

"Get up," you huffed out a laugh, softly, before letting another sob out.

"And yes, I'll marry you, even with a dent in your fuckass mohawk from the frying pan."

He stood up happily, and engulfed you in a loving hug, seemingly forgetting about the entire ordeal earlier.

"Hey, my mohawk is not fuckass. Also, that was my favorite frying pan," he huffed, before dipping down to plant a soft, loving kiss on your lips.

[ssimay]

im in love with altın gün's drummer daniel

[eggsistential-basket]

thinking about the person i could have been if i tried a little harder to find my own way

[girlthativealwaysbeen]

spending my whole life trying and trying and trying and trying to be good enough for people who don't give a fuck about me

[fingertipsmp3]

I’m always so fascinated by people’s bad roommate stories. I’m not sure I’ll ever live with someone I haven’t vetted extensively beforehand ever again

[s0dium]

Victoria Secret

A/n: For all my Geto lovers, i made sure the fucking was extra juicy. Enjoy!

Synopsis: Your secret indulgence? Buying lingerie. You've managed to keep this "hobby" under wraps until your worst nightmare, Geto Suguru, discovers your secret. Unexpectedly, he proposes a deal: he'll keep your secret, in exchange you help set up his friend Gojo with your roommate, and after that he will even buy you ten sets of your favorite lingerie. There’s just one catch—you have to model them for him. What could go wrong?

"W-what are you doing?" You manage to gasp but Geto just kisses the hollow of your throat. "Why? Do you want me to stop?" He murmurs against your skin. And you know you should say yes, but you shake your head. Like a fool. "Good girl."

Warnings: Teasing, praising, body worship, nipple play and sucking, soft-to-rough sex, unprotected sex, breeding

Word count: 5.5

Every Sunday, at precisely three in the afternoon, you sneak out of your apartment for what you call your "secret indulgence."

Your eyes gaze at the velvet-lined shelves, mentally dissecting the lace and silk items that sit on the red fabric. A familiar, gentle melody fills the boutique, playing overhead as soft light casts a warm glow on the meticulously displayed delicate fabrics. As you run your fingers over each fabric laid before you, you stop when you find one that feels like a whisper against your skin.

This one is perfect.

Carefully you hold the item up on either side, feeling the fabric between your index finger and thumb. Intricate floral patterns cover the lace material and you note the high-waisted cut and scalloped trim that would certainly flatter your figure. You hum in contentment. Yes, this piece of underwear will go perfectly with your collection.

Your "secret indulgence" you may ask? It is collecting lingerie.

Your indulgence was secret for a reason as well. Far too often people assumed that you collected lingerie for a boyfriend or even an audience, but it wasn't like that at all. In fact, it was the opposite, you collected lingerie for you. It wasn't like you never thought about trying it on for someone though, you just never seemed to have an opportunity too. Unlike many of your peers, you're not a social butterfly, never one to attend college parties or gatherings. Even your best friend Shoko has to drag you out of your room every once in a while. Yet, ever since you can remember, there's something about lingerie that captivates you—perhaps it's the delicate lace, the intricate patterns, or how damn good you looked in it. You were simply in love with it.

And up until now, you were pretty damn sure your indulgence was perfectly secret as well.

"Y/n! Just the person I needed to see."

Oh what the fuck.

Your steps halt instantly at the sound of the familiar voice, freezing you in place. You didn't want to look back, you didn't need to look back, you knew who was behind you. You purse your lips as a rush of thoughts floods your mind: Had he seen you leaving the boutique? He wasn't a fool; surely, he'd deduce that the two bags you were clutching came from somewhere significant nearby.

Shit shit shit. Fuck it.

With a nervous bite to the inside of your cheek, you slowly turned around, facing the tall man behind you.

"Geto." You dead pan. There’s a tightness around your mouth, the corners pulled down just enough to betray your displeasure. The usual spark in your eyes is conspicuously absent, replaced by a guarded, cool glare that clearly communicates your discomfort at this encounter.

Geto smiles and takes a few steps toward you. Your first instinct is to step back but you stay in place, taking in his appearance. He's wearing a black tank top today, one that clings to his well-defined muscles and shows off the tattoos covering his arms. He pairs this with casual grey sweatpants that hang loosely around his hips and of course, his long black hair is partially tied up in a man bun like it usually is, while the rest cascades down his back.

Of course he looks good.

Thin sharp black eyes scan you before landing on the two bags you are clutching. His smile grows. You know you're fucked. The last person you needed to uncover your secret.

"Enjoy your shopping?" He chuckles, nodding to the bags and you harshly bite your lip.

"Just some clothes for the summer" You respond dryly, making sure to be heard over the bustling people around you.

"Ah, you don't have to keep secrets from me." Geto chuckles and he gestures to the tattoo and piercing shop across the street. "You know I work there right? I see you go into the little shop every Sunday."

No. No, you did not know that.

You pause before speaking again. "Can I help you with something Geto?"

"Actually, yes you can. I need a favor."

"Favor?" Your eyebrows raise and you scoff. "What could I possibly help you with."

Geto smiles and takes another step forward. "I know we aren't friends, but Shoko is your best friend and she is also mine so I thought maybe we could benefit each other a bit."

You dont respond this time and he continues.

"My best friend, Gojo, im sure you know him."

You have to fight to hide the disgust on your face upon hearing the white-haired man's name. Of course, you knew Gojo, every one on campus knew Gojo, you specifically for the amount of girls he has "toyed" with.

"Yes, I know who the fuck Gojo is." You roll your eyes and you notice Geto has taken another step forward, effectively closing the distance between you two.

"Well, he is head over heels for your room mate-"

"Head over heels or just want to fuck her." You sarcastically snap back, cutting Geto off.

"Is there any difference these days?" he replies, a slight smirk playing at the edges of his lips, challenging the cynicism in your tone.

"And you want me to do what, exactly? Set her up with him? No way," you snap back, your voice rising slightly in indignation. "She's my friend, and I'm not some kind of matchmaker. Gojo can go screw himself."

"No, no, that's not what I'm saying at all," Geto quickly interjects, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. "I'm just asking you to let her know that he's available, that he likes her. Just make him out to be an option, you know? Your roommate can do whatever she wants with that information."

"Still, why would I want to do that?" you question, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion and frustration. The warmth of the afternoon seems to intensify the tension between you as Geto steps closer, diminishing the gap until he's just inches away.

"Because in exchange, I'll buy you anything you want," he offers, his voice low and persuasive.

"Um, what?" Your response comes out more as a reflex than anything else.

"Let me rephrase that," he continues, nodding slightly towards the bag of lingerie you're holding, which causes your cheeks to flush with embarrassment. "I’ll buy you what you really want."

"No," you retort firmly, feeling the discomfort rise.

"No?" He echoes, his tone a mix of amusement and disbelief.

"Yes, no. Besides, I'm not strapped for cash. I can buy what I want whenever I want—"

"Didn't I tell you you don't have to lie to me?" Geto cuts in, his voice lowering a bit. "Please, I know how expensive that store is, and I'm not offering just one thing. Say, how about 10 sets from that store you love?" he declares, his eyes flashing with a mix of challenge and amusement.

"10? Can you even afford that?" you retort skeptically, your eyebrows arching in disbelief. This game of his was becoming more intriguing and absurd by the minute.

He leans back, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Oh, and I have to go shopping with you and see you try it on," he adds, as if the deal wasn’t provocative enough.

"Why the hell would you want to do that?" You feel the tips of your ears grow red and you scoff. The idea of Geto Suguru choosing lingerie for you sounds so personal sends a shiver down your spine.

"Because," he pauses, his gaze intense, "its not about buying you lingerie, Consider it… a test of trust, can't just give you hundred of my dollars and let you do whatever you want, I want to make sure you use the money the way our deal assures you will which is... buying lingerie."

You pause, absorbing his words, the heat of the afternoon sun pressing down on you, making the moment feel even more surreal. "Fine. We follow each other on Instagram, so I'll DM you when it's done. But like you said, it's up to her what she wants to do with that information."

"Alright by me. See you soon," he replies, his tone casual yet carrying an underlying note of finality.

As you turn away, walking down the busy street, your mind races with the absurdity of the conversation.

What the hell just happened?

Your fingers hesitated over the blue send button, poised to confirm the completion of your part of the unusual bargain.

Earlier, you had shared with your friend the prospect of a date with Gojo Satoru, carefully omitting the details of the deal behind it. As expected, she was ecstatic, thrilled by the idea despite Gojo's questionable reputation—a fact that gnawed at your conscience. But what could you do? The arrangement was already in motion. Now, it was time to let Geto know that you had held up your end of the agreement, and it was his turn to fulfill his promise.

You took a sharp breath through your nose and pressed down on the screen, watching as the word "delivered" appeared beneath your message in the chat. Just as you were about to set the phone aside and start getting ready for bed, it pinged with a new message. It was from Geto Suguru. Your heart raced as you read the simple words.

When do you want to meet?

The sun blazes down as you approach your favorite boutique, the heat making the pavement shimmer like a mirage. Despite the sweltering temperature, you've donned a big, baggy sweater over your shorts—a choice more about comfort and less about fashion, especially since you didn’t want this meeting to scream 'date'. It’s your casual armor, albeit a warm one on a day like today.

As you near the boutique, you spot Geto Suguru waiting by the entrance. He leans casually against the wall, dressed in some graphic t-shirt and black jeans, his eyes hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses. This time his hair is completely up in a man bun that shows off his black gauge earrings and hints of a tattoo on his back. The moment he sees you, his lips curve into a knowing smile, as if he can read your thoughts about the outfit.

"Hey," he greets, pushing off from the wall to stand upright. His voice is smooth, a calm contrast to the bustling street around you. "I was starting to think you were gonna bail."

"And miss a chance at free money? I think not." you quip. "Hope Gojo enjoyed his date by the way." Sarcasm drips from your words and Suguru chuckles.

"Probably not as much as I'm gonna enjoy this." he counters smoothly. "Come on," he says, gesturing towards the boutique's door. "We got some shopping to do."

The moment you walk through the boutique doors, cool air hits you in refreshing waves, making you sigh with relief. The boutique interior sparkles with delicate lighting and the gentle clinking of hangers, an ambiance you know and love all too well. You notice that the store is unusually quiet today, with no other customers around—just the shop owner standing by the cashier, who flashes you a small, welcoming smile as you enter. As you step further, your eyes lock onto a stunning pink lingerie set draped elegantly on a mannequin right by the entrance. Its intricate lace and delicate details shimmer under the boutique’s soft lighting, radiating an aura of both luxury and temptation. It's new, and most definitely pricy.

"You’re staring," Geto observes with a smirk, catching you in your admiring glance.

"I'm appreciating," you correct him, the corner of your lips twitching upwards. The price tag hanging from the mannequin does nothing to deter you; it's clearly on the pricier side, but today, Geto’s wallet is on the line. "And since you’re offering, I think I’ll indulge."

Geto's laughter fills the air, playful and unbothered. "I should’ve known you'd go for the gold. Well, it’s your day. Let’s make my pockets weep then," he says, gesturing grandly towards the set.

Who were you to deny him?

You dive into the racks, your fingers grazing over silks and satins, selecting the most exquisite pieces you lay your eyes on. One by one, you gather a collection of lingerie sets—each more lavish than the last. There’s a daring scarlet set that promises to captivate, a royal blue ensemble that speaks of deep oceans, and a classic black lace number that's timeless in its elegance. By the time you're done, nine luxurious sets accompany the initial pink one on the counter.

Geto watches with a mixture of admiration and apprehension as the pile grows, his eyebrows raising slightly at each new addition. But he doesn’t protest; instead, he engages in light banter with the shop owner, who carefully folds each set into sleek boutique bags.

As the total rings up—a sum that makes even the shop owner blink twice—you don’t look away from Geto's face, watching for any sign of regret or hesitation. None comes. He simply pulls out his black card, the smirk never leaving his lips as he hands it over.

The transaction goes through with a soft beep, and you can’t help but feel a thrill of victory as he signs the receipt. You reach out to grab the bags and head toward the door, already planning where each piece will go in your wardrobe, when Geto’s voice stops you.

"Where do you think you’re going? We still have the other part of the deal, remember?" he says with no attempt to hide the amusement in his voice.

Geto's reminder hangs in the air, the playful edge in his voice more pronounced now. As realization dawns on you, you let out a low groan, remembering the full scope of the deal. "Oh," you say, hesitance hanging from your voice. "Right, the 'trying on' part."

"Exactly," he grins broadly. "Come on, my car is parked outside."

"HAH! You think I'm going to your house?" you scoff, raising an eyebrow in mock disbelief.

"Why not? Or can we go to yours?" he counters quickly, his grin turning into a challenging smirk.

You bite the side of your cheek. Your place was an absolute mess right now and you don't think you can handle Geto Surguru in your room. "Fine, yours it is," you finally concede.

The drive to Geto's place unfolds in a tense silence, your gaze fixed on the cityscape sliding past the car window. Your heart pounds with a mix of dread and nerves, the quiet amplifying the whirlwind of thoughts in your head. There had to be a way to get out of this. The idea of layering your clothes under the lingerie flickers through your mind, but you dismiss it almost instantly—Geto would see right through that. The thought of making a daring escape through a bathroom window doesn't seem entirely out of the question, though it feels more like a scene from a comedy than a realistic plan.

As you mull over these scenarios, you wonder about Geto's intentions. Was this all just a game to him, a way to tease you? He'd watched you choose each piece with care, so there was no question of you running off with his money. Was this some weird way he got off?

Your so into your thoughts that you dont even realize your at Geto's door.

"Welcome to my humble abode," He says through a grin as he swings upon the door. Rolling your eyes at his grandeur, you step inside, instantly taken by the loft's undeniable charm. The space is open and airy, with high ceilings and large, sunlit windows that overlook the bustling city below. Exposed brick walls add a touch of urban cool, while modern art pieces dot the walls, giving the place a curated yet lived-in feel.

"The bathroom is over there," Geto points nonchalantly towards a sleek, sliding door on the far side of the room. His tone is casual, as if inviting you to try on clothes was an everyday occurrence. He saunters over to a plush couch, settling in comfortably. "You can start whenever you're ready."

Feeling a flutter of nerves, you clutch the bag of lingerie a bit tighter. "You want me to—to try on all of them?" Your voice barely hides your anxiety.

"Nah, just two or three," he responds, his voice calm and nonchalant as he picks up a magazine from the coffee table.

With your heart pounding so loudly you're sure he can hear it, you make your way to the bathroom. The cool, modern aesthetics of the loft seem to blur as your mind races. Was this just a fucking joke to him?

As the door closes behind you, you set your bags down on the bathroom floor.

Holy shit Holy shit Holy shit.

You were going to die, this was it. You were going to die out of embarrassment because of god damn Geto Suguru. Your face burns a deep shade of red, heart racing as you lean against the cool, marble sink. Fuck, you're overwhelmed, your thoughts a tumultuous whirl, but you know you need to pull yourself together. Yes, the task is simple: pick two sets of lingerie, try them on, and get this ordeal over with. Just two sets, then you can leave. That's all.

Peeking through a slight crack in the bathroom door, you see Geto lounging effortlessly on the couch, casually flipping through a magazine as if he hasn't a care in the world. A quiet curse escapes your lips at his composure— god you hated him.

Turning back to the task at hand, you rummage through the bag containing the 10 pieces of lingerie. Each piece is stunningly beautiful, making the choice unexpectedly difficult. The last thing you wanted was to make it seem like you where trying to impress him. After a moment's hesitation, your hands settle on a set of black lace lingerie—bold but the plainest out of all of them.

Slipping into the black lace, you feel the fabric glide smoothly over your skin. The lace is intricate, delicate yet firm, offering a sensation that is both luxurious and comforting. As it settles into place, you notice how perfectly it cups your breasts, enhancing your natural shape without discomfort. The fabric molds to your body, sculpting your curves in a way that boosts your confidence, even in such a vulnerable moment.

Turning to face the mirror, you take a moment to really look at yourself. The lingerie accentuates your figure beautifully—your waist appears slimmer, your hips more pronounced. Yes, this was exactly what you loved about lingerie, how it made you look and more importantly how it made you feel. Despite the situation, you can't help but feel a surge of self-assurance. It's a small victory, but in this moment, it's enough to steady your nerves.

Now was the hard part.

Slowly you step out of the bathroom, your heart pounds fiercely in your chest, echoing in your ears. The moment the door clicks shut behind you, Geto's attention shifts from his magazine to you. He lays the magazine aside, his gaze instantly locking onto you. His eyes rake up and down your figure, taking in every detail of the black lace lingerie that clings to your curves.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Geto muses, a teasing grin playing on his lips. "If it isn't the bravest fashion model of our time."

"S-shut up," you stammer, trying to mask your discomfort with irritation. "Just remember, I'm only doing this because of the deal."

"Oh, and you're doing it magnificently, may I add. Who knew you hid such bold taste under that sweater."

"It's just underwear, don't read too much into it," you retort, your cheeks warming under his scrutiny.

"Turn for me," he commands softly. "I want to see the back."

"What?" you falter, caught off guard.

"Turn for me, I want to see behind," he repeats more firmly.

Fuck it.

Reluctantly, you turn, exposing the delicate lace detailing on the back.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, almost to himself, his gaze lingering appreciatively on the design.

"What?" you ask, your voice wavering slightly—unsure if you're more startled by the compliment or by the intimacy of his tone.

"Nothing, baby," he responds, his hand dismissively waving as he looks away, pretending to refocus on something else in the room. "Go try on the next one."

You dont say anything, instead slipping back into the bathroom and rummaging through the bag. Your heart still thumps audibly in your chest, but now there's an undercurrent of excitement mixed with the nerves. The flutter in your chest isn't just from anxiety though; it's also from a burgeoning sense of empowerment. You realize that you have control over how you present yourself, a certain power over Sugruru.

After discarding the set you were wearing, you reach into the bag and pull out the pink set you splurged on earlier. The fabric is luxurious, with a hint of sheerness to the bra that would no doubt show your nipples. The underwear is equally bold, designed as a thong with delicate straps that loop around each thigh, highlighting the curves of your hips and legs.

As you slip into the pink lingerie, the fabric settles against your skin like a whispered secret. The sheer material of the bra makes you acutely aware of your own body, and as you adjust the straps around your thighs, the ensemble frames your form in a way that feels almost artistically deliberate.

Yes, just after this you would be done. So why not go out with a bang?

As you step out of the bathroom, the transformation in your demeanor is palpable. The delicate pink lingerie accentuates your confidence, which resonates with each step you take towards Geto. His eyes lift to meet yours, and the moment they travel down to take in the full view, his expression shifts dramatically to one of... shock? His usual composure falters, and he lets out a low, incredulous whistle.

"Jesus Christ," he breathes out.

You shift in place, playing with the silk hem of your underwear.

After a moment, he composes himself slightly and gestures towards him with a slight tilt of his head. "Come here," he says softly, his voice low and inviting.

You pause, the hesitation clear in your stance. The intensity in his gaze and the palpable tension in the air make your heart race even faster.

Seeing your reluctance, Geto's expression softens. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes never leaving yours. "Please," he adds, a hint of something more vulnerable in his tone this time.

The room seems to pulse with the silent energy between you as you take a tentative step forward, then another, drawn by the magnetic pull of his gaze. The air thickens with a charged mix of anticipation and desire as you finally stop just a breath away from him.

He looks up at you, standing up from his seat, his gaze intense yet tender. "You look incredible," he murmurs. You flinch when you feel his hand his finger trace your jaw and his other hand play with the hem of your lace underwear. He bends down, his lips just grazing your cheek, a feather-light touch that sends shivers down your spine, making your entire body quiver. "If you want me to stop, say it now," he whispers. When you remain silent, he brushes his mouth against the hollow of your temple. "Or now." He traces the curve of your cheekbone. "Or now." His lips meet yours.

For a moment your so shocked that he kissed you, you don't do anything. It feels like you are having an out-of-body experience like you can't believe this as actually happening to you. Then in a matter of seconds, his lips move against yours and you melt. Suguru is gentle at first, then unyieldingly hard. You feel yourself falling —not just physically, but emotionally too. You open for him and his tongue snakes its way inside your mouth. His hands move from your face to your lower back as he pulls you toward him, closing whatever space was left between you. He pushes you against him as he deepens the kiss. One of his hands remains on your hip, while the other travels to cup your breasts.

"W-what are you doing?" You manage to gasp but Geto just kisses the hollow of your throat."

"Why? Do you want me to stop?" He mumbles against your skin. And you know you should say yes, but you shake your head. Like a fool.

"Good girl."

Without a warning, Geto sweeps you up in his arms with an ease that leaves you breathless, carrying you effortlessly across the room to his bed.

Geto stands over you, his eyes tracing the contours of your body splayed elegantly across his bed.

"Shit baby, you let anyone else see you like this?"

You thickly gulp and shake your head.

"Oh thank god." He murmurs, climbing over you to place light kisses along your neck, trailing down your chest. Each kiss is soft yet deliberate, sending a cascade of warmth through your entire body. You close your eyes, allowing yourself to be fully immersed in the sensation.

"Your skin feels like silk," he murmurs.

"Did you steal that line from a hallmark card?" You crack.

"Nope just stating a fact." He skims the underside of your bra with his fingers. "Always watched you come out of the store, always wanted to see how you'd look in what you bought." He lifts his head to give you a wry look "You're so smooth and perfect you know that right?"

You let out a soft gasp when his lips find your nipple, pulling your lacy bra down so soft lips can evoke your nub.

"Oh god sugu-" He doesn’t let you get to the last consonant, his eager, hot mouth enveloping one of your nipples and sucking. His tongue flattens, rolling your peak and swirling around your areola, fast and rough until you’re whining. His ears go hot at the sounds you’re making, all desperate and needy.

"So beautiful, fuck your tits are so beautiful" He groans into your skin like it was cocaine. He then switches to your other breast, sucking and licking until he knows you will be sore. Jesus, your breasts feel so good in his mouth, so soft and sweet, why didn't he do this sooner? How much longer did he think he could maintain this facade of being your 'enemy' when all he truly desired was to have you underneath him?

You are squirming underneath him now, the stimulation of his wet tongue on your nipple is becoming unbearable and so was the growing heat between your legs. Your tits feel so good in his mouth, supple, sweet, far better than his imagination could ever conjure

"God, sugu-"

"Love it when you say my name." Suguru breaths between licks and you feel your stomach twist with.

"Sugu please" you manage to gasp, "please touch me please anything please-"

"Fuck you?" Suguru coos, and the words make warmth blossom from your core.

"Please." You breath.

And who was he to deny you?

Without much of a word he pulls your lace panties down to your ankles, making you instinctively hide your bare cunt with your hands, but he clicks the roof of his mouth with his tongue and swats your fingers away. Then, as he stands over you, Suguru steps out of his black pants and pulls off his t-shirt. As you glimpse Suguru, you feel your breath get caught in your throat. His large, incredibly toned frame is a clear testament to rigorous workouts, and intricate tattoos weave across his skin, adding to the attraction.

You were no longer in the kiddie pool.

You are too immersed in his figure that you dont even notice he has lowered down his black boxers just enough so his long length springs out and slaps against his abdomen.

You thickly gulp.

"I dont think that will-" You stammer, the sheer size or his dick making your gut twist and turn. "I think it will hurt I dont think it will-" As you continue to stammer, searching for the right words, Geto cuts you off with a deep, consuming kiss that immediately shuts you up. When he finally pulls back, a confident smirk plays on his lips.

"It will, baby, it always does," he murmurs, his voice low and dark.

Geto positions himself atop you, his strong legs straddling either side of your body, anchoring him in place. He leans over you, the intensity of his gaze capturing yours as he methodically entwines his fingers with yours. With a firm but gentle grasp, he pins your hands down on either side of your body, his proximity reducing the world to the space between you. The warmth of his breath brushes against your face, his presence both overwhelming and exhilarating, as he holds you there under him, completely in control yet tender in his touch.

Before you can even get a word in, you gasp when you feel large pressure against your hole.

"Slowly baby," he hushes you before you can protest. "I'll go slowly."

Suguru's slow roll of hips hips into you is enough to make you scream. The way his dick parts your walls and fills every single inch of you makes your brain go hazy, especially when his tip smooshes against your cervix, sending blots of electricity throughout your body.

"Talk to me baby," Suguru murmurs, his voice cracking from the vice grip your cunt has on dick. "Want me to move?"

You're too lost in the hazy pleasure to form words, all you can do is nod, making Geto breathe out an air of what must be relief. His thrusts started out shallow and slow, testing the waters for how much he could get away with. What your limits were, and if you could fully take him for what he wanted.

You feel like you are going insane from the pleasure. Your cries came silent from your throat, eyes screwed shut in complete bliss. Your body adjusted rather quickly to him, Suguru coaxing you to relax as he peppers kisses along your neck, sucking and biting your sensitive skin. And as you adjusted, your hips began to buck against him at their own pace, beckoning him to move faster.

Of course, Suguru doesn't miss this, and without missing a beat he speads up his thrusts, the pap pap pap of his skin against your echoing in your ears

"Shit, you feel so good baby." Geto practically whines. You don't know it, but he's starting to lose his grip, the overwhelming pleasure beginning to unravel his usual composure.

The delicious friction of his dick scrapping your walls has your heart pounding in your ears and your breath close to hyperventilating. Everything is too much too good all at once. The proximity of Geto's body is overwhelming, his warm skin against yours, his ragged breath hot against your neck. When you gaze into his face, the sight nearly makes you faint—his eyes scrunched shut, lost in euphoria, beads of sweat lining his black hairline. His mouth is slightly open, panting, a sight that makes your cunt flutter from excitement.

"Su-Suguru, so good you're fucking me so good." you babble and he can only groan in response. Your toes curled and uncurled as he continued to wreck your body with his completely brutal thrusts. The pain of him hitting the tip of your cervix nearly every time mixed with the kisses he peppered on your neck and lips was all enough to end you to heaven.

He knows you're close. And you know it too. The way Suguru is fucking you is truly a primal display of affection; him rutting into your cunt like an animal in heat and you frantically scratching and clawing at his back.

Thats when an idea hits you, no, a need overcomes you, You need Suguru, you need all of him, all of him inside you filling you up and making you his.

"Sugu cum in me please," you beg through a hoarse voice. "Fill me up please please please."

He’s been pressing kisses and biting into your shoulder, but you don’t miss the way he practically whines at your words.

"Course baby, course I will."

As if on cue, you feel your seize up and your mind go blank. It feels like your body is free falling into a euphoric grave, electric arrows of pleasure coursing through your sin and directly to your core.

"Oh shit" Suguru curses at the way your cunt clamps down on him and it isnt to long before he follows you, shooting thick ropes of cum straight into your belly. In a fluid motion without leaving your insides once, he picks you up so you are straddling him, and his bare chest is pressed against yours.

“You’re so warm,” he murmurs into your ear. And you can only sigh in response.

'I'll buy you 1000 more lingerie sets if we can do this again."

[gojosprettyprincess]

Boyfriend Yuji who's obsessed with your boobs!

Both are twenty ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

“Yuji! Can you stop fucking staring at my breasts for a second and actually listen to me!” your glossy lips formed into a angry pout as you glared at him with annoyance. Arms crossing furiously beneath your boobs—slightly lifting them, making your cleavage even more visible through your low-cut top.

You were babbling to him about some steamy drama that unfolded at your workplace today but it seems like his absent mind had taken interests in something else.

It's like his eyes had an invisible string connected to your tits that forced him to look every single second. His mouth slightly gaped in awe, mind running wild as he imagined what the mounds of flesh would feel like under his calloused palms—well unfortunately for you, he let his intrusive thoughts get the best of him today.

You yelped unexpectedly as he groped your soft tits together—squeezing them as if they were squishy stress balls, making both spills out of your top even more. Both of his hands were engulfing them, he started fondling with them like some sick perverted man but you quickly intervened before he got the chance to successfully pop them out of your top.

You quickly slapped his roaming hands away. “Yuji!, You fucking pervert!”. You furrowed your brows together as his ears turned crimson, he embarrassingly scratched the back of his neck, laughing as if it were funny.

“Sorry baby, they just look really soft and squishy all the time, can't help myself”. He chuckles, trying to play innocent as if his pants didn't just grow tighter after hearing you calling him a perv.

Yuji loves riling you up like this—seeing his hot, attractive girlfriend all pouty and angry, calling him filthy names that never failed to make his cock stubbornly hard and horny but he won't ever admit it.

[foilflingza]

my family bs is finally starting to weigh on me again