#hes baby girl (derogatory)

[st4rking]

tfw you, as a mind reader, have to team up with a man who thinks too much

Slight spoilers in tags

[mo-ok]

🦁 + 🐴

[coffeebrownn]

tell me about preston!

[SOMETHING ABOUT PRESTON]

Baby girl! Baby girl! Baby girl! (affectionate)

His full name is Preston Nell Johnson. BUT, he forgot that he has a middle name, so it's just Preston Johnson for him.

His height is around 5'10 or 5'11 (around 179 CM). Age 32.

Has a typical Mid-Atlantic Accent. Light brown eyes, dirty blond hair. Naturally doesn't speak or smile a lot, so he's somewhat had gotten the title of "chick magnet". Hates that title.

From New Hampshire! but moved to Vermont because he was adopted to a Vermont family! (HAHAHAA) Which he's no the only one who's adopted in the family.

Agnostic. But raised in a Christian setting, went to an all boy school until Highschool (he was moved to a public one)

Family consist of His father and 4 siblings (him included), he's the oldest. His little sister stayed with his biological family and he'd never gotten any answer why he was chosen to be taken away.

A dog kind of person, Favorite dog breed is the Collie or the Labrador Retriever, but no dogs right now, too broke. But he wish to adopt one,,, he's very weak to strays, really want to take every stray back home.

Can't tie his own tie.

His family kinda forgot that he existed and Preston is okay with that, but deep inside he wished that his family respect him a little bit, but he stop chasing that in his late 20s.

Very natural in music, has a decent singing voice and pretty good at playing a trumpet (even though he smokes), but prefer literature. Now he's picking up Computer and Coding.

Not a lawyer but he understand laws pretty well, read it in his free time. The type of person who read Terms of Services 😐

He teaches college students because he's broke and he need to payback his loan because his college is the one who paid his tuition fees. Surprisingly he likes teaching them and doesn't mind it.

Experiencing an emotional burnout from the last relationship, it was an abusive one (emotionally). Now his low self esteem tripled and suffering from trust issue.

Really like Breaking Bad (Tv series) and his favorite movie is Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975), he remembers word to word for the first 30 minutes of the movie.

[saltiepng]

he busted his nose trying to do a flip

[thundersoothers]

spike, the dog (still derogatory)

who: John Price x wife!reader

what: continuation of this fic and this thought about john price being a softie for his wife and the dog you found on the side of the road (y’all LOVEDDDDD this, thank u omg)

word count: 0.9k

“We are not naming the fucking dog Gremlin.”

“Pooh Bear.” 

“No.” 

You and John are sitting in the living room, staring at the dog you picked up from the side of the road a few days ago, trying to come up with a name for him.  

Convincing your husband to let you keep the dog was a challenge.  It felt like you were debating with judge, jury, and executioner.  Stakes were high.  He was sitting across from you at the dining room table, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed.  His eyes were narrowed at you and his face was expressionless, giving nothing away as you plead your case. 

Somehow, you won. 

So now, here you both are, brainstorming names to replace “Puppy”.  You’re holding the dog in your arms on the couch and John is sitting across from you in his chair. 

“And where the hell did you come up with these names?” 

“I have a list.” 

“You have a list?” 

“I have a list,” you say, “of dog names and baby names.  Every girl does.” 

And then, for just a second, the room stills. 

“Baby names?” John asks. 

A shiver runs up the bottom of your spine and you sit up a little straighter.  You feel the air buzz and John’s heavy gaze on you. 

“Yeah,” you say, glancing at John and then back at the dog in your lap.  “But—Pooh Bear?” 

After a long second, he says, “No.”

“Georgie Banks.” 

“The actress?” 

“Wha— no, fucker, Georgie Banks from Mary Poppins.” 

“… I’ll consider it.  What else.” 

“Ja’Marcus.” 

“My love,” he says, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees and clasp his hands together, looking at you seriously.  “What the fuck are you talking about.  It’s a dog.” 

“Tra’davious.” 

“I’m making a list,” he scoffs, sitting back again.  “Jesus.” 

“It’s a nice name!” you exclaim.  “What are you gonna name him, Scout?” 

He looks at you.  

You look at him. 

“No.”  Your face drops and you almost shudder.  “No, John, that’s not even funny.” 

“Oreo?”  The corner of his mouth twitches but he quickly steels himself. 

“Stop.”  You hold the dog close to your chest, horrified. 

“Rocky?” 

“No!” 

“Buddy?” 

“John.” 

“We could just call him Puppy.” 

“What is this, Bird Box?  When Sandra Bullock named her kids Boy and Girl?  We can’t just name the dog Dog.  We would sound like neglectful parents.” 

“Your friend has a dog named Cat,” John says. 

“And that gets confusing because she just got a cat.  I think she’ll have to rename Cat.  And by Cat I mean the dog.  Jesus,” you mutter, shaking your head, eyebrows furrowed.  What a mess that would be. 

“We could name him after your team…?” you say, the idea popping into your head.  Then, you frown.  “I’m not calling him Kyle, though.  That’s too human.  Ghost?  He is—you know.”  You rub over the dog’s mangey back gently.  “A little ghastly, still.” 

“Riley?” 

“Who’s Riley?” 

“No one.”

You eye him.  “Must be one of your other wives…” 

He ignores you.  “It would inflate their egos too much.  They’re already insufferable enough.  And,” he adds, “they don’t need another reason to suck up to you.” 

“They don’t suck up to me,” you say. 

“Sweetheart,” he says.  “They suck up to you.” 

“A pun with Price?  Uhhhh… High?  Low?  Buy one get one?  Bogo?”  You hold up the dog, as if to present him.  “Bogo Price, son of Mr. and Mrs. John Price?” 

“You think you’re funny,” John says. 

“I think I’m hilarious.” 

“How about Mackie?  For Mack?  Soap’ld love that–Scottish for ‘my son’.” 

“… I’ll consider it.” 

“You did find him near Notting Hill.  Maybe Notting?” 

You shudder.  “No.” 

“Why not?” 

“Knotting.  It’s a—I’ll explain it to you later.”  

(By later you mean never.  Explaining A/B/O to your husband who doesn’t have any social media?  And has never heard of the website Ao3?  He’d have an aneurysm and then wonder why you know about it.  And you cannot have that conversation.) 

“What are the characters from Notting Hill again?” he says, scratching his chin. He needs to shave—well. You need to shave him, rather. “We just watched it.  William Thacker, Anna Scott, uh, her shit husband, what’s his name—“ 

“Jeff King.” 

“Jeff King, yeah.  King, maybe?” 

“Look at him, John.”  You turn the dog to face him.  He wiggles in your hands and yips, his tongue falling out of his mouth.  “He’s not a King.” 

He sighs and shakes his head.  “He’s not a King.” 

“What about William’s weird roommate?  Uh, Spike?” 

“Spike,” John repeats slowly. 

You nod.  “Spike.” 

You both focus on the dog. 

“I like Spike,” you say. 

“I like Spike, too.” 

You hum, considering this.  “Spike…”  You narrow your eyes and study the dog closely, holding him tighter in your hands. 

He yawns with a high-pitched whine and then hacks.  

“Jesus,” John mutters, shaking his head. 

“Better than Georgie, Banks, or Mackie?” 

“Yeah,” John says, “look at ‘im.  He’s a Spike.” 

“He’s such a Spike,” you muse.  “He’s gonna be huge, too.  I mean, look at his ears and paws–they’re already too big for him.  Shit, he’s probably gonna be 70 pounds or 30 kilos.” 

“We need to train him.” 

“Yeah.  I can hire a trainer?  Find one online.” 

“I could get a trainer from base.” 

“I do NOT want an army dog.” 

“It wouldn’t be an army dog.  It would be a dog trained by the army.” 

You eye him.  “John.” 

“Love.” 

You sigh.  “Fine.”

“Good girl.”

note: prob gonna make wife!reader and spike a universe/series bc i loveeeee them. I hope you enjoy!!!!

posted 01.02.2025.

do not repost or modify any of my original words on any other platform.

to masterlist.

[lilacxoz]

JJK Men when you want to hang out with friends!

(Gojo, Choso, Toji, Geto, Sukuna)

Warnings!!! Smut, creampie, derogatory remarks, possessiveness, power play, pet names(baby, ma), decryphilia, strong language.

No beta read. Expect errors.

minors DNI

GOJO SATORU - just 5 more minutes.

“Please don’t go.” He’s almost begging. It was pathetic, yet you your hips met his every thrust. He held his thick heavy arm around your waist, pulling you closer, deeper, onto his angry cock.

“-toru, they’re waiting-“ he slams his lips to yours. He didn’t care that your friends were waiting downstairs. He needed you, his hips clashing with yours.

The sound was lewd, the slap of your hips with his, the squelch of his dick disappearing so deep inside of you.

He pulled away from your lips, his eyes practically glowing with the lust hidden behind them. He was a mess, his white cloudy hair stuck to his sweaty face.

“Just fi-five more minutes. Just f’me,” he breathes out, every thrust pushing you closer and closer to the wooden door separating you from the hallway of your apartment.

Your hand reached down quickly to his wrist, his tip abusing your cervix with his deep thrusts. “Baby, don’t stop!” You cry out, the fear of getting caught nothing but an after thought. And how could you? Gojo’s dick so deep inside of you.

Your jaw fell slack as his hips snapped against yours, a painful pleasure that makes your mind foggy. His hand held your silky dress up to your waist, crystal blue eyes drinking in the sight of his dick go in and out. His thrusts so fast and brutal, like a piston broken from the case.

But it wasn’t enough, his brows furrowed as his veins popped out of his arms. He couldn’t get a enough, needed more and more of you. As if he was starved of you, high out of his mind.

“-Toru, s’too fast!” You cry out, face smushed against the now damp wood. Drool slid from your lips, eyes rolled back and your makeup running down your face. It was disgustingly perfect. The way you were just as drunk as he was off the climb to your highs.

Only you were closer, clenching oh so tight around his pulsating cock. “Yeah- fuck! baby’s gonna cum, do it. Mph! Cum f’me.” And the way you gripped him made his release an embarrassingly high pitched whine, head falling back as his hips dug into you.

He chased after you, using his arm to help clash your hips with his at a bruising speed. His lips parted as he whined out a mix of your name and ‘fuck, fuck, fuck’s.

You bit down on your lip, still sensitive as he poured load after load of his thick ropes, drooling down the length of him. He was mesmerized, slowly riding out his high as he watched that creamy ring form around the base of him.

“Baby, hah, the girls are waiting-“ he grabbed you deeper into the apartment, keeping you still connected.

“Ju-Just, five more minutes. Just f’me, all f’me.”

CHOSO KAMO- dressed like that?

Choso was quiet, the kind of person most felt intimidated by. He had this quality about him, made him unapproachable. That never affected you though. Until you were on the receiving end of his intimidation.

He had his fingers deep inside you mouth, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror above the sink. “Just look at ya, hah, so slutty, fuck!” His dick was so deep inside of you, your black tights ripped in a threaded mess.

He was absolutely feral, eyes drinking in the sight of your face in the mirror. How dare you expect to get away with wearing such a small skirt, and your tits poking out? You were just asking for it.

“Baby, ah! Im just going to, ngh! have dinner with Nob-“ you couldn’t finish, fingers pushing deeper and deeper past your lips. Your tongue dancing across his digits.

“Only I get to see you like this.” His hips smashed against yours, “don’t forget that.”

You felt delirious, your brain a mush of emotions. Yet all you could think about was the way his tip was crushing, no, bruising your cervix.

“Ah~ never, yeah- never let me go out,” you cry, your mascara running down your damp cheeks. He knew you were right, yet he didn’t give a shit. He’d crawl to the end of the earth for you, just to bring you back down to the hell he lived in.

“You’re mine, you go out with me.” He purred, his hips snapping back against yours in one more delicious thrust. It made you see stars, your lips parted as you sucked in a shaky breath.

“Cho- yeah yeah yeah, don’t stop, please!” You cry out, thighs shaking as his thrusts only slow down.

He knows you’re breaking beneath him, fingers only plunging deeper down your throat. The tiny bathroom mixed with his heavy breaths and and your gags. He loves it, relishes in it.

“Throw it back on me,” he groans, a gutteral deep groan. He lets out shaky breaths, his hand on on your hip tightening. It hurt, his nails forming crescents on your skin.

You did as he asks, your thighs burning as you desperately crawled to your high. “Lemme cum, baby please! Ah! Lemme- FUCK!”

Tears burn your eyes as, Choso practically growling at the way you tighten around him. He’s done playing, you’ve learned your lesson.

He slips his fingers from your mouth, lazily bringing them down to your clit. Your body goes limp against the cool stone sink, crying out his name deliriously.

His pace was inhumane, letting out a high-pitched scream with each thrust. It was too much, your body spasming as you landed face first from your high. And Choso was right behind you.

Ropes and ropes of hot cum painted your insides, your jaw falling slack as his seed disgustingly slid down his balls and the insides of your thighs.

“All. Mine.” Choso said between each thrust, fucking his cum oh so deep inside of you. Deep enough to make you forget about your dinner with the girls.

TOJI FUSHIGURO - so pretty f‘me, ma.

Toji May not like how dedicated you are to doing your makeup and hair before going out with friends. But he knew you deserved a night out away from the brats. But he couldn’t let you leave without showing you how much you deserved it.

He let out a guttural moan, large hand on the small of your back as it arched deep into the sheets. “So pretty f’me, ma.” He just couldn’t stand it, the bounce of your ass against his base. Taking in every single thick inch of him.

Your teeth dug into the pillow below you, lipstick stained to the white sheets. You had to be quiet, afraid to wake up the sleeping kids he managed to put to sleep.

“Quiet ma, just, yeah, put those brats to sleep~” he purred. But you couldn’t help it, drunk on his dick as he shoved so deep inside, painfully delicious.

"Toji- fuck, the girls will be here, ah! so-soon," you mewled out into the white pillow. Toji shushed you, his thrusts slow yet so fucking powerful. each thrust digging you deeper, deeper, deeper into the bed.

"I'll be quick ma," he groaned, digging his face into the crook of your neck. your eyes fell back as he sunk his teeth into your skin, lips parting at the pain it delivered.

He was drunk on your pussy, the way it was so tight around his angry dick, shoving it oh so deep into your syrupy mess. it was enough to make you cry out, not caring if the kids heard you.

"Shhh," he shoved your face deeper into the pillow. your hands desperately found purchase in the sheets, thighs shaking as your orgasm approaches so quickly. it was almost embarrassing how whiney you were, but it turned Toji on so much. he couldn't get enough.

"cum on this dick baby," he let out a grunt with each powerful thrust. your head wobbling against the fabric headboard with each snap of his hips, crying into the pillow as you fell so hard into your orgasm.

he winced, you were so fuckin' tight. milking him, he didn't think he'd have the heart to pull out. "keep squeezin' ma, put, fuck, another brat in-into you." he was losing his mind at this point, hips slapping against your ass so hard it was bruising.

he found the willpower to pull out, shooting hot sticky cum all over your ass. he let out deep and throaty moans at the sight, using his tip to make a mess of it over the fatness of your ass and hips.

"oh so pretty f'me, ma."

GETO SUGURU - back that ass up.

Geto was addicted to you. But when he came home from a long day of working with monkeys only to find you all dressed up for the club. He just had to get his taste.

“Back that ass up,” he purred deep into your ear, his tip just kissing your entrance as he held your back against his chest. Waiting so patiently for you to sit on it.

"I've gotta gooo," you softly plead, making half-hearted attempts to leave. Geto knew you weren't sincere, his tip glistening with the mixture of his pre-cum and your sticky wetness. he was reveling in it.

his hands pull you closer by the tight fabric of your dress, your panties nothing but a pool at your feet. he brought his lips against your ear, brushing them against the soft shell. he needed you, needed you so bad.

"C'mon baby, just a quickie before you leave," he purred. you looked back at him, his cheeks flushed as his eyes were glued to the connection between you. As much as you didn't want to be late, the look in his eyes was enough to egg you on.

you slid down on him, oh so slowly. he gritted his teeth, so tight as if he'd ground his teeth to a fine powder. his head fell back as you ever so slowly bounced on his dick.

he softly moaned your name, cupping the fat of your hip. he loved when you sat on him, your perfect figure, eyes following each curve of your ass and waist. he just couldn't. get. enough.

the bed groaned under your combined weights, his teeth capturing his bottom lip as he lost himself. he was so pussy whipped, the only thing on his mind is how deep he was inside of you.

he reached a hand around, a handful of your stomach. he was obsessed with you, your body, your mind, and especially your needy pussy.

"fu-fuck girl, pussy soooo hungry," he groaned, his hips moving with yours. he watched your ass bounce and ripple, sucking him to the fucking base. milking him of everything he had.

"ngh~ yeah! gonna need yo-your card tonight, ah!" you whined, his tip just kissing your cervix.

Geto groaned, holding you still in his hands before he started to ruthlessly fuck into you. he'd give you what you wanted, but first, he needed to cum inside of you. and with how pent-up he'd been lately, he wasn't far from it.

you cupped your hand over your mouth, your moans and begs uncontrollable as he elicited your climax. and it came quick, eyes rolling back as he fucked wave after wave of pleasure into you.

you were squeezing him so tight, his moans turned whiny and pitchy as his thighs burned. years of training led him to this fucking moment, fucking into you as if his life depended on it.

"yeah, fuck fuck fuck!" he whimpered. "gonna fill this pretty pussy so good," he groaned. and as if the straw that broke the camel's back, the look you gave him, eyes half-lidded and lips parted had him falling-diving into his orgasm.

he held you close as he came down from his high. and then you felt the coolness of his debit card slide onto your thigh, seeing those familiar digits making you smirk.

RYOMEN SUKUNA - take it off.

Sukuna was the king of curses. He always got his way, and was the strongest among most. Except the last part didn’t apply to you.

He was pissed that a mortal such as you even dared to step out of the closet in such a slutty dress. Your tits falling perfectly against your chest, your fat hips so tight along the thin silky fabric of your dress.

He hated women for their seductive power. Yet right now, he loved the way you had him wrapped around your finger. He’d never admit it, not even to himself, but he loved how easily you riled him up.

“Take it off, woman.” He demanded, voice deeper then usual. Your pink slips formed a smirk as you shook your head. Your mistake.

Now your face was smooshed against his silky aubergine sheets, crying-no, begging him to slow down. Begging for his mercy.

his tongue fucked in and out of you so fast and quick, lips trembling as you struggled to even form coherent words. stupid women, he thought, thinking you could do whatever you wanted.

his nails dug into the soft flesh of your ass, blood soaking his fingers as he spread your ass apart. but you didn't care about the pain, you needed him to bring you to that finish line.

"Kuna!" you moaned, voice bouncing off the walls to his chambers. Perhaps a servant could hear the disgusting moans slipping from your pretty pink lips, perfect. he wanted the whole damn world to know how defenseless you were to him. how obedient you were.

"louder, women. let the world know you have no power against me," he groaned. the truth was, Sukuna was the one powerless, so drunk and delirious off of your pussy. it was almost sinful, the way he ate you out as if you were his death row meal. and maybe you were, with how many civilians he killed on a daily.

you fisted his silky sheets below you, crying out his name to slow down. your knees were weak with how white hot cold flashes sent your body over the edge. the overstimulation mixed with your orgasm caused you to moan so loud you could shatter glass.

Sukuna liked that. seeing you fall apart in his hands.

he slapped your ass as he drank your orgasm, pretty folds drenching his lips and chin in your arousal.

he managed to pull away, flipping you onto your back. he stood to his full height, letting his robes fall down his body to reveal his two angry thick cocks, begging for you.

"I'll show you, mortal woman, you are powerless against me in that slutty clothing."

[clandestineloki]

strawberry bliss (nsfw)

the part 2 to strawberry sweet ❤️

summary: miguel loves using his strength on you ;)) and this little snippet of you guys watching a replay of his recent game shows just that, with some sweet lil fluff and playful banter :)) and then miguel fucks u so good he hits your factory reset and you go back to being a lil shy babie around him oh no :3

tw: he also finds out you have a daddy kink, mention of shane dawson (derogatory), mention of physical violence (bros a wrestler what did you expect), overstimulation, a bit of breeding kink, heavy praise kink, a bit of humiliation but on the sweet side

A/N: this takes place about a year or so after strawberry sweet, where miguel and reader are in an established relationship and make quippy cute banter with each other

A/N # 2: pls reblog so we can turn more ppl into whores 💖

💕 hope you enjoy! 

===

"BABYY THE COMMERCIALS ARE OVER!"

Miguel runs from the bathroom and meets you in the kitchen, you with the tray of strawberry drinks squealing as he tickles your waist.

"AHH IT'S GONNA SPILL!!!" you scream, and he backs off, smiling as you regain your balance.

You balance the smoothie cups on the tray and move forward, but Miguel blocks your way. 

"M'scuse me, I have a game to watch," you pout up at him, but he doesn't budge.

"Mister, my boyfriend will be very angry if he finds out I'm late to the game >:( "

"Aww, such a shame, pretty girl... can't I just get a little kiss?"

"Let me through!"

"Can't, hermosa, you gotta say the password right up against my lips~ the password is mwah mwah mwah i love you miguel you're so handsome miguel~"

"You're cheesy," you roll your eyes, and he laughs as you set the tray down in front of the bed facing the TV. "I want the old Miguel back, he was cute and he had actual rizz."

He slumps against the couch. "The Miguel that was a total pervert over your old smoothie girl uniform?"

"Oh my gosh, I totally forgot about the uniform!" You giggle. "I hated it. Did you know on my first day they gave me a size too small and they had the audacity to try and gaslight me by saying I got fat?"

"Fucking weirdos," he pulled you into his arms, your back against his chest." Glad I got you out of that mess, mm?"

"It was just one mess into another, Mig, you made me your sugar baby," you tease, and his face scrunches up.

"Bebita, I may be rich but I'm not your sugar daddy. I'm just two years older than you."

"But think about it, I was sixteen when you were eighteen! Like- that's two years but the maturity difference is huge! That's creepy, Miguel. You wanna go to jail?"

"Ay, por dios. We're in our twenties, we met in our twenties. End of discussion. And I've already been to jail. Twice."

"What?!"

"Ay! ay! end of discussion. The match is starting," he pinches your nose then turns to watch the TV just as the host's opening spiel ends. Miguel feels you sit up in his grip when the crowds on the TV cheer as he comes up on screen, flashing a grin to the audience.

"Ew, who's that?" you mumble, cheeks stuffed with popcorn and Miguel snorts, rolling his eyes.

"That's me, your boyfriend, the guy who's gonna absolutely obliterate downgraded Shane Dawson in about..." he snaps his fingers just as his opponent comes out on screen. "Fifty-eight seconds."

"I really don't see the resemblance, Miggy, you're just being a bully."

"Y'know," he pulls you closer, absentmindedly kissing your neck as he feels you squirm in his hold. "I don't get how you let the physical violence slide but I compare some white guy to Shane Dawson and you call me a bully."

Your face heats up a little, and you turn away, mumbling shyly. "C-cause you look really badass when you throw them around like that... "

"Mmm?" he teases, nuzzling his nose in your neck. "I do?"

He feels you freeze up and chuckles, his hands trailing down to your thighs.

"Y-yeah," you whisper... "a bit..."

"Oh, and you like how strong I am, hmm? Is that what it is?"

It's cute how you shake your head and brush his hands away to turn up the volume on the TV, when he just goes right back to kneading your breasts and riling you up.

"Querida, you gotta answer me, y'know I can't understand you when you mumble like that~"

"What was the question?" you mumble, looking up at him with what he knows for sure are the most adorable bunny eyes he's ever fucking seen.

"I said," he nibbles down on your ear with a little growl, "do you get off like a cute little bunny when I show off? Is my baby that kinky~?"

" I-I... maybe..." you twitch as his fingers toy with your nipples. "Miggy, please..."

"Please what baby? Please stop or please give me more?" 

Miguel knows the answer, obviously. It's just that he can't get over the fact that he landed the prettiest girl with the cutest stutter when she's nervous.

"Please..." you whisper.

He chuckles against your ear, leaning in and lowering his voice just the way he knows you like it, especially when he's buried all the way inside you.

"Please what."

The tiniest gasp comes out of your lips. "Please... please f-fuck me... please?" 

Before you can even finish, you're over his shoulder and on the bed as he kisses everywhere on your face, growling at the inconvenience of the fact that he cant hold you still and fondle your chest at the same time.

"M-Miguel..." you whimper, twitching in sensitivity. "You're always teasing me..."

"Oh?" he mocks you, flipping you over on your stomach and gripping your hips, leaning in real slow to drawl darkly in your ear. "I'm the tease here? When you're shaking your little ass all over me? You rile me up like this and expect me not to fuck you the way you deserve? hmm?"

"S-Sorry..." you mumble, and Miguel laughs breathily, having the time of his life making you all shy and embarrassed.

"S'okay, baby, you just gotta make up for it, yeah?"

With a playful swat to your ass, he rips off your shorts and his fingers tease your folds through your panties.

"Miguel..."

"Yes...?" he kisses the arch in your back, smirking when your thighs tremble.

"Please hurry..." you gasp.

"Don't worry baby, you'll be asking me to slow down real soon~" 

===

His favorite sight of all time is you underneath him, with that blissed out look on your face and your chest heaving as he fucks every choked breath out of those pretty lips.

"Fuck, bebita," he whispers. "Creaming all over my fingers like the cute little plaything you are?"

You whimper, closing your thighs shakily, but his free hand just forces your legs apart and he curls his two fingers in you, tickling your pussy and making his hand even wetter.

"Hmm? What did you say?" Miguel mumbles close to your ear, and makes sure that at the precise moment you try to speak he speeds up his fingers, making your words melt away in warm red pleasure as more juices coat his fingers.

"S'too much..."

"Bebita, you asked for this," he whispers darkly. "We're not even halfway done."

You mewl out his name and turn your head to the side. He takes it as an opportunity to bite down on your neck and relish in the high-pitched pleasure drunk squeal that forces out of you as your little pussy sucks in his fingers.

"Shit. I can't take it anymore," he grumbles, his fingers moving even faster as he leans closer, forcing you flat against the bedsheets as you moan and cream all over his fingers like a cute little bunny, just too pleasure-drunk to utter even a word.

"Come for me baby," Miguel almost begs. "Come for me so I can fuck you the way I know you want me too, okay?"

You gasp at his dirty talk, and he laughs at the fact that you never stop getting shy when he says these things.

Or when your little pussy makes those wet noises when you're really really close.

"Fuck you're so cute," Miguel grins, licking the tears falling from your hazy eyes. "So sweet, letting me do whatever I want with you~ Come for me, gatita, you know you want to~"

Your moans make him grin and he thumbs at your sensitive little bud. His teasing sends you over the edge and you gasp and whimper, clinging onto him as he helps you through your third orgasm.

When you come down from it, Miguel is smirking down at you, and licking his fingers clean of your juices, humming lowly as his tongue traces his long fingers sensually.

"Wanna taste it right off your pretty pussy baby," he whispers, making you blush. "But I'll save that for later~"

He really means he'll save it for when you're too fucked out to close your pretty legs around his head.

Miguel kisses your hips as he flips you over again, tracing his rough hands over your ass and thighs, making you shiver and mumble something he almost can't hear.

"Daddy..."

His wandering hands freeze.

He grins.

"What was that?" he teases.

Your breath stutters.

"What- I-"

He leans in dangerously close, pinning you down on the bed with your ass right against his throbbing hard cock.

"What did you just call me?" he drawls, and you whimper.

"I-I called you Daddy," you bury your head in the pillows. "S-Sorry... if it makes you uncomfortable-"

Miguel thrusts his hips forward, sinking halfway into your wet, warm little cunt. The squelching of your little hole is nothing compared to the pure, unadulterated, sinful noise of pleasure that leaves your lips.

"Oh," Miguel groans. "That made me reallyfuckin' uncomfortable alright."

Your thighs shake as he sinks in really really slowly, making sure you feel every inch of him stretch you out.

"Say it again."

You gasp, tears forming in your eyes. "It's embarrassing..."

"Fuck, you really have to do all these things that make you so lovable, huh?" He groans, pulling your wrists and holding your arms behind your back. "Got the cutest little face, the cutest little pussy, and you always got these little kinks that make you so cute~"

He starts moving his hips, making you slur out his name and clench around him.

"My cute little milkshake girl, doing all these cute things for me and no one else," he whispers, and you nod helplessly,

Miguel runs his hands up and down your waist, making you sigh and whimper into the pillows.

"Wanna repeat what you said? No one's around, baby, just you and me. No need to be shy~"

"Daddy..."

"Fuck, you really are such the perfect little cutie, aren't you?" Miguel teases, pounding you harder.

It's music to his ears when you finally get to that stage of it, just uncontrollably whimpering and moaning and making all these noises of pleasure as you let him do whatever he wants to you.

"C'mon, say it again, another time won't hurt~"

"Such a t-tease..." you whine, and he chuckles fondly, pressing a kiss to your sensitive neck.

"Sorry, baby, not my fault you're so fucking adorable," he groans, shuddering when you clench down on him. "Daddy's close, baby, wanna come with me? Feel good together, hmm? Can you even understand me you dumb little baby?"

Miguel coos as you take in high-pitched breaths and gasps. Your tiny fists clench the sheets shakily, and your thighs thump helplessly with every thrust of his hips.

"Come back to me, baby," he whispers as his thrusts get sloppier. "Help me out one list time, kay? Wanna be my good girl?"

"Mhm..."

"Ah," he laughs. "Daddy broke his pretty baby so bad? Sorry, gatita, you just feel too good. Let's come together, okay? I'll get us there, baby~"

You whimper loudly one last time, creaming helplessly around his cock. Miguel pins your back down onto the bed, leaning in and growling right against your ear as his orgasm takes over as well, making sure you take every bit of his cum inside you.

The twitching of your thighs finally slows as Miguel pulls out, turning you onto your back and lightly running his hands up your thighs, waist, and breasts, kneading them softly and eliciting a whine from your lips.

"So sensitive," he pinches your nipple, making you gasp. "But I'll keep my hands to myself... for now."

You blush at those words, nuzzling into his neck as he chuckles at your bashfulness.

"Didn't know my good little girl had a Daddy kink. So cute," he whispers. "Got the sweetest little baby all to myself~."

Miguel brushes his lips against yours, smiling when he tastes a hint of strawberry,

His second favorite sweet thing in the goddamn world.

"Oh, baby~" he coos. "You felt so fucking good. Can we go again, gatita?"

You whimper, twitching helplessly, and blushing at the feeling of his fingers toying with the cum trickling down your thighs.

But you don't say no.

[midnightwriter21]

jjk hcs: toji & inumaki as boyfriends

characters: toji fushiguro & toge inumaki

warnings: slight toji slander hehe, nothing else i think?

an: read gojo & nanami version HERE read yuji, yuta, and megumi version HERE

TOJI FUSHIGURO

lord he is too fine

i’m so sorry for the toji simps myself included

cause you have the most nonchalant boyfriend to ever exist

he’s one of the “babe relaaaaxxxx. it’s not even a big deal.” boyfriends

and that’s cause for toji…. nothing is ever a big deal

unlessssss *wink wink*

unless you happen to be in danger

bc then toji is doing whatever it takes to make you safe

and i do mean whatever it takes

don’t expect fancy dates that take a lot of effort

toji’s version of a “fancy” date is taking you to the food court at the mall

and by taking you i mean he walks with you there and then makes you pay for the food

broke ass

he doesn’t really care about pda

toji does what toji wants

if he wants to pull you into his lap in the middle of a meeting with a client?

then he’s pulling you into his lap tf

and you’re gonna sit there until the meeting is over

if he wants to stick his tongue down your throat in the middle of a park?

he’s finding y’all a nice comfy bench to sit on and he’s pulling you in to meet his lips

toji WILL go radio silent out of nowhere

sometimes you’ll go days

maybe even weeks

without hearing from him

he always turns back up though

he’s like the stray dog that you start leaving food out for that disappears and reappears at will

he’s got nicknames for dayyysssss

but you never know what context he’s using them in

for example:

princess (derogatory)

brat (affectionate)

yeah anyways 10/10 would let him treat me like shit

TOGE INUMAKI

*sigh* he’s so baby girl sugarplum gumdrop angel face pookie bear handsome boy

so uh let’s address the obvious here…

mans can’t physically converse with you

BUT

inumaki is 100% the best of the jjk boys when it comes to communication!!

whether y’all talk using sign language, texting, a dry erase board, etc.

he is great when it comes to discussing feelings/ problems/ literally anything else

just uh… not verbally

now jjk usually portrays gojo and yuji as comedic relief

but inumaki? is a CLOWNNNNN

swear

i just know he’s funny asf

his facial expressions have to be top tier

and just imagine everybody having a lil sorcerer meeting. everybody is super serious and then you just hear “tuna mayo” come from the corner

bruh i would not be able to contain myself i would laugh til i cried

inumaki is stage 5 clinger!!!

bro is so open with the pda

he uses pda as an excuse to show you off brag

he spots some guys eyeing you from across the street?

he’s slipping his hand in your back pocket, giving you a lil squeeze and shooting them a smug smirk

and he is SMOOTHHHHH

bro can’t even speak to you but everything he does is so smooth

ong his rizz is top tier

as for nicknames…

since he can’t say normal words I like to think he’d find the name of a food that he can call you as a replacement lol

ex. when u blush he calls you out on it by poking your cheek and calling you “tomato”

boyyyy if you don’t find a cuter food name to call me

yeah i love him

[benkeibear]

『 Faking it 』

☼ synopsis: you fake your orgasm and are faced with the different ways these men handle it. Will they help or will you get punished?

☼ characters: Sukuna / Yuuta Okkotsu / Choso

☼ wc: 1461

☼ cw: fem!reader, afab!reader, mean Sukuna, double penetration, rough/cervix fucking, name calling, slightly mean/manipulative but whiny Yuuta, creampies, soggy Choso, (mutual) masturbation, multiple orgasms, overstimulation

☼ notes: enjoy the smut and don't forget to reblog!

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹ Sukuna:

✧ oh boy. Are you perhaps dumb or don't care about your life?? Now WHY would you do that to yourself??

✧ You were riding your king just the way he likes it, strong arms bouncing you up and down his cock until you were a blabbering mess for him, almost drooling from how good you felt

✧ Sukuna didn't allow you to cum however, punishing you for no reason other than his own entertainment but the closer he got, the further you could feel your release slip away, his voice booming “let go- fucking cum,” he groaned out and you know better than to disobey your kings orders

✧ You weren't close anymore and decided to fake it, moaning and whimpering his name and title while you put on your best show but Sukuna could feel that this wasn't real, your pussy not gripping him as tight as it usually would and you were certainly not obnoxiously wet either

✧ while one set of hands held your hips down, allowing the tip of one of his cocks to sit right at your cervix, the other set of hands wrapped around your throat

✧ The aura around you shifted and so did his gaze from adoration for his queen to a derogatory one full of disappointment “You owe me this orgasm, slut. Do you really think that I'll let you get away with this?” His voice echoed and made you flinch, gasping for air

✧ You thought you were doing so well, being his good girl and giving him what he wanted but you just shoveled your own grave - knowing so when the mouth on his abs opened to lap at your clit while you remained impaled on his cock

✧ Sukuna enjoyed to watch you squirm on his lap only to sound so pathetic with every whimper and whine that fell from your sweet lips. Your noises the worship he craved until he felt your walls flutter around his cock for real this time

✧ “Such a needy little thing needing her clit played with,” he cooed and started to bounce you up and down his length again until you were creaming all over his cock, your eyes glistening with tears from how intense it felt when his cock bruised your cervix but he was right - you give your king what he asks for, not a weak excuse

✧ He was far from done with you, one round never enough to satisfy him so when he flipped you two over and pushed your head onto the hard ground beneath you knew the true punishment is only about to come

✧ both his cocks were lined up with your holes, ready to plow into you until you were ready to beg him to stop, until the safeword falls from your lips because his sweet queen can only take so much pleasure

✧ “just like that- take my fucking cocks,” he mused when you eagerly pushed against him until the tips slid into your weeping cunt and ass, begging him to destroy you. It's what you deserve for faking it.

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹ Yuuta:

✧ Yuuta teased you all evening long with calculated touches, whispered promises of what the night will hold and when he finally touched you it just felt so good

✧ it was worth the wait, everything you've desired - skilled fingers playing with your clit and massaging your sweet spot as his lips latched onto your boobs, gently sucking on your nipples

✧ the squelching noises of your cunt filled the room with their lewdness but every time the knot was about to snap and your cunt started to flutter, Yuuta pulled away

✧ “Not yet, baby. Need you to cum around my dick,” he whispered into your neck as his kisses wandered from your chest to your neck to leave little marks there

✧ His words were full of promises but the edging eventually drove you further away from an orgasm each time and when he was finally on top of you, his dick aching hard when he sunk it into your heat it was unobtainable

✧ Yuuta was rutting into you with quick and calculated thrusts, hitting all the spots that had your toes curling but it just didn't push you over the edge, guilt building up inside of you

✧ He was whining into your neck, begging you to release with him because he couldn't without the feeling of your plush walls milking him dry and the guilt was eating you up alive

✧ you faked your orgasm just as his thrusts grew sloppy and you could feel his cum painting your walls white as the softest moans fell from his trembling lips but a sigh followed the moment he came down from his high

✧ With his cock still buried deep inside of you “You owe me this orgasm, baby… I worked so hard for it. Don't do that to me,” his voice cracked while trying to sound stern and the dangerous glint in his eyes lit up

✧ He took it as a jab to his ego as well as feeling bad for not making you feel as good as he felt so he made it his mission to make you feel good until you begged for him to stop

✧ Yuuta bit into your shoulder when his thrusts started once again, desperate mewls and whines falling from his lips as he pushed through his own overstimulation to punish you by making you orgasm over and over

✧ And when his hand slid between you to rub your clit you started to clench around him - this time for real and you could feel him smirk against your neck, not knowing the sinister thoughts his mind held. He would prove to you - and himself - that he's more than capable to get you off

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹ Choso:

✧ You were Choso’s first in everything and he was always so eager to learn how to bring you pleasure in all ways possible

✧ the concept of faking an orgasm was new to him, something you've never done before and he didn't even know why anyone would do that to begin with so the thought never crossed his mind

✧ and Choso tried so hard to get you off that afternoon after you had such a stressful day, genuinely just wanting to help you relax and he knew the best way. When you sank down on his thick cock to ride him, your cunt immediately clenched around him

✧ Having learned that you like it best when he rubs your clit while you ride him he eagerly swiped his thumb over your sensitive bundle of nerves with just the right amount of pressure

✧ “you're taking me so well… so good for me,” he mumbled against the skin of your boobs as he gently suckled on your flesh while you bounced on his cock, desperate for an orgasm that just wouldn't come, your mind far too preoccupied to let your body relax

✧ So when Choso came, you clenched around him and moaned like you usually did when you came, not letting him know that it wasn't a real one - you knew he would be disappointed with himself and you didn't want to make him insecure since this wasn't his fault at all

✧ After a while of cuddles you excused yourself to the bathroom to “clean up” but in reality you sat down on the tiled floor and slid two fingers into your cunt, still dripping with Choso’s cum

✧ either you took to long or you weren't as sneaky as you thought because your lover knocked on the door shortly after, begging to come in and you opened the door, trying to act normal as if you were just cleaning up

✧ “I am aware of what you're doing in here… were you not satisfied? Did you want another round?” He questioned, looking like a hurt puppy until you explained to him that you did not orgasm - and still weren't able to do so because your head is just so noisy

✧ Choso sat down on the floor with you and nodded, his head working out the situation and why you would do what you did but it didn't matter in the end - all he wanted was for you to release and this time for real

✧ Your loving boyfriend doesn't care if it will take you hours to tumble over the edge, he will help you if you allow him, alternating between fingering and lazily fucking you until your body was so sensitive that his fingers coaxed an orgasm out of you by rubbing your clit - letting you fall from one orgasm right into the next

Networks: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @houseofsolisoccasum

[angelwonie]

X + Y = YOU AND I || jeon wonwoo

PAIRING: academic rival!wonwoo x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 8.6k

GENRE(S): smut, fluff, rivals to lovers, college au

SUMMARY: you wish jeon wonwoo would sometimes act like an insufferable prick instead of the perfect guy, because then you wouldn't have to feel your head spinning each time he looks at you.

WARNINGS: SMUT [unprotected sex, fingering, use of petnames (baby, good girl), praise, some degradation, sex in an empty classroom] wonwoo is so in love

Class discussions where both Wonwoo and you are involved never end well. 

Partly, it’s because none of you possess the ability of backing down from a fight, but mostly it’s because of Wonwoo’s annoying tendencies of having read all the books in the world, which allows him to criticize every word that comes out of your mouth. 

Which again leaves you with no choice but to get angry and argue even more vividly — though Soonyoung claims that’s just your own stubbornness making matters worse. 

He doesn’t get it, though. The desire to beat Wonwoo at his own game each time he opens his mouth. It’s something you can’t entirely explain, but it keeps you grounded, and so you don’t question it too much. The adrenaline that comes along with it is enough for you. 

And that’s exactly what keeps you going today — Wonwoo’s annoying takes on social anthropology.

“I just don’t think cultural differences are the root of conflicts.”

He says this and shrugs, eyes subconsciously drifting to the side to look at you. As expected, you’re already raising your hand to comment on his statement and he has to fight the urge to smile. Despite coming in tired, eyes drooping, you’re eager to partake in a discussion with him. Always. It’s a little too reassuring to think about, so he stops, and instead focuses on what you’re saying. 

“That’s a baseless claim to make,” you scoff, and again, he feels his lip twitch, almost forming a smile. “Of course they are. No differences means nothing to fight about.”

“Yes, in theory,” he says, and his eyes crinkle with the smile he offers you. A smile you can’t seem to tell if is cocky or genuine. “But cultural differences aren't everything. If we don’t have culture, people will still form opinions. And those opinions will still become the roots of conflicts.”

With those words, he crosses his arms over his chest, his elbow bumping into you. 

You’re not sure who came up with the idea of the two of you sitting together in the classroom, but moments like these make you want to find that person and rip their hair out. Because in what universe should you have to argue with Jeon Wonwoo while his shoulder is literally touching yours? 

It’s stupid, unethical, and every other derogatory term you can come up with, but most of all, it’s making it hard to focus. Obviously, it’s not about him, it’s about the closeness itself. You think. Probably. 

You lean a bit to your left so you can actually think of a response, but end up sighing and asking a question instead. 

“So you’re saying conflicts are inevitable?”

He tongues his cheek – a sign that he’s in deep thought – and bumps his elbow into you again. An accident, probably, but it catches your attention nevertheless. 

“I’m saying disagreements become conflicts because we can’t handle our emotions. It’s not differences that are the problem, it’s our way of handling them.”

And there it is — that twinkle in his eyes that signalizes he knows he’s won. You know it, too, from the way he leans back into his chair and your words die down in your throat and the professor nods his head approvingly. Still, you wish he wouldn’t be so fucking happy about it.

“Asshole,” you mumble only loud enough for him to hear as you sink back into the chair. 

He chuckles and you feel your insides turn. God, he’s annoying. Super annoying. 

Especially when he leans a bit to your side of the desk, face a lot closer to yours than it needs to be when he whispers, “Good job.” 

You glare at his soft expression, your own face heating up in something resembling embarrassment. 

“No need to gloat about your success, dickhead.”

“I’m not gloating,” he frowns, the smile slowly fading from his face.

“Sure you aren’t. You’re just kindly reminding me that you’re better than me.”

“That’s not what– That’s not true.”

His voice falters, and he leans back in his chair and taps his pen against the desk. You scoff at him, but it’s nowhere as threatening as you’d like it to be — thrown off by the quiver in his tone. 

“It is true,” you whisper, more to yourself, and avert your gaze from him. 

The professor picks up where he left off, and you let your thoughts scatter and eyes drift closed. It’s been a long day, you think. Thankfully, the professor’s got you and Wonwoo placed in the back, and so he doesn’t notice it when you manage to fall asleep in your chair, head falling to the side. 

Wonwoo notices, though. Your cheek squished against your shoulder, hair in your face. It’s not the first time you’ve fallen asleep in class, and he should probably start scolding you for it, but seeing your under eye bags and hearing your tired voice makes something turn unpleasantly in his stomach. And so he lets you sleep. 

(It’s all because of his perceptiveness.

You know about this trait of his, and it’s awful. How he hands you a pen when you’ve forgotten your own without you having to ask for it. How he knows when to shut up during an argument, because your face tells him he’s won. How he never feels the need to embarrass you, or anyone, for that matter.

He’s a good person in and out, and you hate him for it.) 

It’s not before the class is nearing its end that Wonwoo decides to wake you. 

“Y/N,” you feel a hand on your shoulder, shaking you awake, and then a deep voice hits your ears. Wonwoo’s voice, you realize instantly, and then criticize your heart for jumping at the thought. “You might wanna wake up for this.”

“Huh?” 

Wonwoo’s smiling at you softly, and you sit up straight, confused. At least until you see your professor clutching his phone against his ear, muttering aggressively.

“His wife called,” Wonwoo explains in a hushed tone, leaning towards you so you hear him better. “I feel kinda bad for the guy. She doesn’t seem to like him very much.”

You rub your eyes and yawn, then realize Wonwoo is sitting right there, and clear your throat. 

“Maybe he’s an asshole.”

“Maybe,” he turns to look at you. “Girls like assholes, though, don’t they? 

Your breath hitches in your throat involuntarily. You’re not sure whether it’s from the question or from the way he’s looking at you – like he’s already got you all figured out – but it’s making you nervous. All of it, him. And now that you’re discussing a topic you’re not certain about, it shows. 

You chuckle nervously, “Where’d you get that from?”

“You, mostly.”

“Excuse me?”

He offers you a smile, one that you subconsciously accept by feeling your insides turn to mush. This has got to be the longest you’ve spoken to him without mutual friends around, and without arguing. Truthfully, you don’t hate it. You’d never have thought that this would be the topic of your first ever civil conversation, though. 

“Minghao? Seungkwan? Your type’s pretty obvious.”

“Do you spy on me or something?” you ask, a little baffled he knows the names of your previous boyfriends. You weren’t hiding it or anything, but Wonwoo’s never shown much interest in you outside of class. “Plus, that was months ago.” 

He fixes his glasses and tilts his head to the side.

“Yeah? And what type of guys do you like now?”

You open your mouth to answer, but the words die down in your throat. Not assholes, you could say. He’s sparked your curiosity, though — what type of guys do you like now? Because you know for a fact that you’re done with assholes, which is why you’ve been trying your hardest to classify Wonwoo as one up until now. 

“I–”

You’re saved from answering his question by your professor, who’s successfully hung up on his wife and is now announcing that class is over. 

A sigh of relief escapes past your lips — another thing that doesn’t go unnoticed by Wonwoo, but he doesn’t push. He simply gathers his stuff, his pen that you borrowed included, and slings his bag over his shoulder. You smile at him, softly, a little hesitantly, because it feels right to do so.

His glasses rest at the tip of his nose as he stands up and says, “See you around, Y/N.”

Then, he walks off and you no longer fight the smile that makes its way to your face. 

—

“Okay, so I think we all know why this meeting is being held.”

This is the first thing Soonyoung says as he sits down by the round table in the cafeteria, latte almost spilling out of his cup. You and Minjeong perch up in curiosity, and she puts her phone away in favor of commenting Soonyoung’s poor word choices. 

“Meeting? It’s our lunch break, dude.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he rolls his eyes at Minjeong who snickers. “This lunch break is being held because–”

“–Because we need to eat?” you raise a brow. 

“Y/N, you are literally in no position to act all smart right now. It’s you that we need to talk about.”

“Me?”

You look to Minjeong, but she only shrugs, meaning that this is a Soonyoung thing. You try racking your brain to find what the hell he might want to discuss, but nothing comes to you. Not even when Soonyoung offers you one of his signature smirks that signalize he’s up to no good. 

“You, and hot nerd Jeon Wonwoo.”

Your mouth falls open in genuine shock. “Wonwoo?”

“Did you just call him ‘hot nerd’?” Minjeong slaps her hand over her mouth as she laughs, but stops when she sees you glaring at her. “Damn, okay, someone’s defensive.”

“Yes, Wonwoo,” Soonyoung leans over the table, hands together on the table like some sort of Hollywood detective. “What’s the deal with you and him?”

“What deal?” you look to the side for some help, but all Minjeong offers you is a smirk. She’s enjoying this a little too much for your liking. “Why are you looking at me like that? There’s no deal. We don’t get along, that’s all.”

“You sure looked like you got along yesterday,” Soonyoung giggles like a little schoolgirl, and you feel your face heating up. Of course he noticed, even though you barely talked with Wonwoo for three minutes. “Also, have you seen how he looks at you?”

“Like he wants to kill me?”

“Like he wants to kiss you. You’re mistaking passion for hate, babe. Or maybe you’re just pretending, because there’s no way you’re not seeing how cute you are together.”

“Me and Wonwoo?” you ask again, incredulously. “You’ve got to be kidding. There’s no way.”

“You have to admit, he’s pretty hot,” Minjeong cuts in. “Plus, you guys have, like, undeniable chemistry.”

“The only chemistry me and him share is the class. Which already sucks enough.”

“You know what they say, denial is a river in egypt.” 

“Nobody says that, Minjeong,” you glare at her, deciding that it’s better to get out of here before you start doubting yourself. “Anyway, I gotta go to class, so get those Wonwoo delusions out of your heads, okay? Because that’s what this is — delusion.”

“Funny you had to clarify that.”

“Just because you’re insufferable,” you send them a painfully fake smile and grab your things so you can walk away, almost missing the words Soonyoung mutters under his breath. 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

—

Usually, you can’t be found in the university’s backyard ripping your hair, but usually, you also don’t fail your chemistry exams. 

You might be acting a tad bit dramatic, running out of class and sitting down on the grass with your back pressed against the stone cold wall to cool off, but that’s something to worry about later. Right now you’re just focused on feeling sorry for yourself. Which you are. To a very high degree. 

“Are you okay?”

You jump at the sudden intrusion to your self-wallowing, turning around only to be met with a familiar face. His glasses are high up on his nose and his hair is neat, smile lines nowhere to be seen.

“Wonwoo?” you ask, a bit embarrassed that he’s seeing you in this state, especially when he looks so put together. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I read here every free period,” he says, frowning. “It’s you that should be in class right now.”

“Do you have my schedule memorized or something?” you look at him accusingly, pulling your legs closer to your chest for comfort. “Anyway, I’m just sitting here.”

Wonwoo’s silent for a moment, pondering on what to do, and then he takes a step in your direction. You don’t run away or protest, so he takes another one and another one until he’s close enough to sink down on the grass next to you. 

“You look more like you’re drowning in sadness.”

“Yeah, well, I failed an exam, so,” you say and hand him the paper your hands gripped just a moment ago — your test with every mistake highlighted in red. The whole sheet might’ve just been red at this point, you think. 

He examines it, brows furrowed, then hands it back. “Chemistry? I thought you were good at that, though.”

Your heart falters in embarrassment.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. That’s why I’m fucking sad.”

You don’t mean for it to sound so angry, but it comes out harsh and bitter. It’s nothing like Wonwoo’s used to hearing you speak. And what comes after shocks him even more — the tears that well up in your eyes and then fall, he can see them even as you turn away from him, perhaps in fear of judgement. 

“Wait,” he says, a little dumbfounded. “Are you crying?”

It’s a stupid question, but his tone isn’t judging. Still, it doesn't ease anything — you feel like you’re about to explode. And what’s worse is that he’s here, Jeon Wonwoo, of all people, watching you cry over something so miniscule that he probably can’t even relate to. You’re not sure why it bothers you so much that he’s seeing you in this state, but it does, it really does bother you, so much you feel like you might die. 

“Yes, I’m crying, Wonwoo,” you say, wiping your cheeks to your best ability. “Jesus christ. I did badly on a test, so I already feel like shit, and then you always have to come up to me with those stupid comments of yours.”

He blinks in surprise from behind his glasses, and even through your bitterness, you think to yourself that he looks cute like that — confused, for the very first time. At least it’s the very first time you are seeing him like this. But, to be fair, this is his very first time seeing you like this, too. 

“I thought you liked it when I'm mean to you, though,” he says finally, and you look at him in disbelief.

“Wonwoo, are you seriously just here to imply I have a degradation kink?” 

He remains silent for a minute, hesitating.

“Great.” 

You laugh through the tears that have now stopped falling, and Wonwoo exhales in something that resembles relief. His gaze is still set on you, unrelenting, like he’s still trying to put together the puzzle. Does he want to leave? 

A part of you hopes he won’t. Because despite that it’s a bit embarrassing, you could use someone to talk to right now. Even if it’s just so you can get your frustration out somehow. 

“What I’m trying to say is,” he starts, choosing his words carefully. “I didn't mean it like that. I never do.”

You meet his gaze – soft eyes that remain otherwise unreadable – and let out a breathy chuckle. 

“Yeah, whatever.”

You kick one of the stones in front of you, and watch it bounce a couple of times before it settles a little further away. Wonwoo doesn’t leave, even though you’re giving no signs of continuing the conversation. He just sits there, shoulder a centimeter or two from yours, and listens to both your breaths. Both uneven — his is nervous, while yours is upset. 

“I’m serious, Y/N,” he says finally, catching you off guard just enough for you to turn in his direction again. “If I ever cross the line, tell me. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He bites his lip awkwardly as you feel your heart dropping to your stomach. It’s silent for a while, the back of your throat burning — threatening that you might start crying again if you say something now. 

He pushes his glasses further up his nose, and that’s when you decide to take the leap. Leap meaning that you lean forward to engulf him in a hug, your head coming to rest on his shoulder. 

It catches him off guard, you can tell. His muscles tense, breath caught up in his throat and your own heart beats so fast you think you might die. But it feels nice, hugging him. And it feels even nicer when he wraps his arms around you, too, albeit hesitantly. 

You stay like that, bathing in his scent – peach and jasmine with a hint of something you can’t quite identify – and somehow, you feel at peace. The test is still at the back of your head, obviously, bugging you, but it’s faint compared to Wonwoo and his hand that begins to slowly stroke your hair. 

“Thank you.”

The words are whispered into the crook of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. 

They’re so quiet he barely hears them, might’ve mistaken them for a hiccup hadn’t he paid complete attention, but he is. He is paying attention. To how your muscles loosen up in his arms and there are no longer tears soaking through his shirt; how his own heart beats a little faster than usual; how he’s so painfully aware of the fact that talking to you only makes him like you more.

More meaning that he’s afraid he might be advancing from the useless crush he’d developed watching you argue with him during class. Advancing into uncharted territory that he’s never even intended exploring. Though he supposes he sabotaged himself by approaching you today. 

“It’s nothing.”

But it’s a lie. It is something — the butterflies in your stomach or the warmth spreading across Wonwoo’s chest. Whatever you want to regard it as, it is something. 

And that something settles in the very depths of your mind and his mind alike. 

—

When Soonyoung announces that he’s bringing Wonwoo to come study with you and Minjeong in the library, your first instinct is to tell him you’re not coming. 

Obviously, you’re embarrassed. And scared. And a million other things you can’t even begin to describe with words. He saw you crying, after all. Jeon Wonwoo, top of the class, saw you crying over a bad grade. It really doesn’t get much worse than that. 

Still, you go. Mostly because you know staying at the dorm would spark questions from your nosy friends, but also because you don’t want Wonwoo thinking you’re avoiding him. Or else he’s going to think you care — which, essentially, you do. But he doesn’t have to know that. 

“Do you think Wonwoo will laugh at me if I get the questions wrong?” Minjeong asks as you stand outside the door to the library, her hand on the handle.

“No,” you say. “He’s not like that.”

She opens the door, and you walk inside, met with the smell of books. Soonyoung and Wonwoo are sitting by the chess boards, talking, and you feel something turn in your stomach. Is it too late to leave now? Judging by Minjeong’s worried face, she isn’t so keen on being here either. Maybe you could both just go home.

Yet when she bites her lip and asks, “Are you sure?”, you can’t bring yourself to lie just so you won’t have to face him.

“Yeah. You should ask him to teach you if you don’t understand something, you know. Better to feel a little embarrassed than to fail an exam.”

“I guess you’re right.”

Just as she says this, Soonyoung catches your gaze and waves eagerly, urging you and Minjeong to come closer. He whispers something to Wonwoo, and he, too, turns to smile in your direction.

“Guess there’s no backing out now,” Minjeong giggles and you nod your head. There really isn’t. 

The two of you make your way to the table where the boys are sitting and pick your chairs. Minjeong’s quick to sit next to Soonyoung, so you’re left with no other option but to plop down on the chair closest to Wonwoo. Normally, that would’ve only mildly annoyed you, but now, three days after he saw you bawling your eyes out, you can feel your heartbeat speed up vastly.

“Hey,” Wonwoo says and you almost jump. You’re not sure why, but you hadn’t expected him to speak to you first. 

“Hi,” you reply and try smiling at him. Thankfully, he smiles, too. “What are you guys studying?”

“Chemistry,” he says, and upon seeing you wince, he’s quick to add, “‘Cause Soonyoung’s struggling with it. He asked me to teach him.”

You have to bite back a smile at his worried tone. “Ah, I see.”

He fixes his glasses, and clears his throat.

“It’s a really tricky subject, though, so I understand why you– uh, he, finds it troublesome.”

“Right,” you nod your head with a giggle, and you can almost feel Soonyoung’s stare burning into your side. It’s fine, though, because now, Wonwoo looks the slightest bit more relaxed. 

You pull out your notebooks and textbook along with a coffee you’d made earlier, and when Wonwoo says your notes look pretty, you can’t help but grin. You kind of wish he weren’t so nice to you, but it doesn’t make you feel awkward, so you suppose you don’t have much room to complain. 

It’s probably just reality catching up to you that’s making you nervous — the fact that he’s not so argumentative outside of class, and that you definitely felt something pull at the very bottom of your heart that day you failed the exam. That, and how the feeling isn’t giving any signs of leaving soon.

You let those thoughts wander as you start making notes, and soon enough, even Soonyoung goes quiet, occupied by his own stuff. It stays like that for a while, and at some point, Wonwoo’s knee bumps into yours. Warmth spreads all across you and you look at him. 

“Sorry,” he whispers apologetically, retracting his leg, and the warmth subsides. In return you send him a smile in which you hope he can’t glimpse your slight – and unsettling – disappointment. 

“It’s okay.”

And then it’s silent again, your body painfully aware of the fact that if you lean your leg a bit to the right you’ll touch Wonwoo. It’s not like you want to touch him, at least you don’t think you do, but the awareness is slightly nerve-wracking for some unknown reason. Everything about him is.  

“Wonwoo,” Minjeong says, breaking the silence, making both his and your heads shoot up to look at her. “Y/N told me you could help me if I asked, so… I was wondering if you could explain biomolecules to me.”

“Of course.”

A quick smile flashes in your direction and then he’s leaning over the table to help Minjeong. His fingers follow the illustrations in her textbook and he starts talking — something about structure, you think. You listen intently, and it makes sense even though you’ve barely started the chapter, but you can’t bring yourself to take notes of what he’s saying. Can’t bring yourself to take your eyes off of him.

You wonder silently if he always was this handsome. You try to think of the times you spoke to him in class before, but it’s hard to recall his face in any other form than what your eyes meet now — focused gaze, lips moving to the rhythm of his voice. His glasses are slowly sliding down his nose, and you feel an immeasurable urge to push them up, but he beats you to it. 

“Basically, they’re essential for cell division to happen,” he says, and you lean forward to look at the picture he’s pointing to.

Your shoulder bumps into his and he turns to the side. You notice, but don’t react in fear that you’ll just end up giggling like a schoolgirl. Instead, you pretend to read some of the text in the book. 

Wonwoo picks up where he left off, voice a little hoarser than before, but you don’t move. Neither does he.

“Can you say that again?” you ask after he says something you don’t understand. 

He repeats with his head turned in your direction, and your eyes drift down to his lips. You don’t want them to, it just happens, your stomach tying into a tight knot. You’re almost entirely sure nobody is supposed to look this hot while talking about biomolecules. Or was it morphogenesis? You honestly don’t know. 

You don’t know why you feel like this with him of all people. Truly, there could be a lot of factors playing into it. The fact that he’s a smooth talker; the fact that he’s both intelligent and knowledgeable; the fact that you’ve grown to know him — what makes his blood boil and what makes him chuckle; the fact that he’s a constant in a sea of variables. 

Maybe that last point especially. That even when everything else goes to hell, the moment you step into social anthropology class, he’s always there. Always willing to entertain you with, albeit sometimes pointless, banter. 

You don’t even know what this is, though. Feeling your head spin when you look at him, having mini heart attacks when he says your name — are these the signs of you going insane? It could very well be that, you think. Insanity feels like the right word to explain your state right now. 

“Y/N,” he says, breaking you out of your thoughts. “You listening?”

Your eyes drift back to his own, and you swear you see a glimpse of amusement playing in his gaze when you mumble a quiet “Yeah.”

Suddenly very aware of Soonyoung and Minjeong’s presence, as well as Wonwoo’s burning stare, you stand up, dusting off your clothes.

“I just need some fresh air,” you offer as an explanation. 

“Mind if I join?”

You look at Wonwoo in disbelief as he asks the question. What the fuck? You don’t mind – at least in the sense that implies you don’t like his company – but it’s the same issue again; he makes you nervous. Goodbye to going for a relaxing walk, you suppose. And goodbye to whatever left there is of your sanity. 

After what seems like hours of overthinking, you decide to get your shit together and send him a smile paired with a nod. Minjeong raises a brow in your direction, but doesn’t inquire further and internally you thank her for that. You’re not sure what you would’ve told her if she asked. 

You and Wonwoo leave the library together, shoulders close together just like when you were sitting, and you swallow the lump in your throat. 

“Everything okay?” he asks as you leave the building. “You seem a little dazed.”

The air is still cold, though winter is nearing its end and spring is slipping through the cracks. You pull your jacket closer to your body in hopes of both warming yourself up and slowing down your heartbeat, but it only fulfills one of those wishes, leaving you to deal with the latter yourself. 

“I’m alright,” you respond with a soft smile. “Thank you for helping Minjeong, by the way. You’re a great teacher.”

Wonwoo’s smile lines shyly make an appearance. “Thanks. I’ve been thinking about becoming a real one, actually.”

You stop walking and turn your head in disbelief. Somehow, you didn’t expect that answer. Wonwoo was always a diligent student, but now that you come to think of it, he never really talked about his plans for the future, or what he wanted to do with his degree in chemical engineering. 

“Seriously?” 

“Yeah,” his cheeks redden ever so slightly. “Teaching chemistry honestly doesn’t sound that bad.”

You take a moment to think it through — him, in a suit and those glasses that fall down his nose, teaching kids about biomolecules. The idea is foreign, and yet, it fits just right. 

You nudge him with your shoulder. “Professor Jeon, huh? It would suit you.”

He lets out a snort of laughter that sounds nothing like the small chuckles you’d hear from him during class. But it sounds nice, this loud laughter and you bathe in it for as long as it lasts. You’re starting to enjoy this whole ‘being kind to each other’ thing. Suits you better than yelling about something stupid in class. It suits him better, too. 

Content with everything, you begin walking again and he follows suit. The grass is a little wet from yesterday’s rain and outgrown as it is, it tickles your ankles. It might’ve been mildly annoying if you weren’t so stupidly happy for whatever reason.  

Whatever reason being Wonwoo, of course. You might be bad at chemistry, but you like to think you’re not dumb — at least not in an oblivious way. It’s become quite obvious, you think, that you like him. 

The thought partly makes you want to kick your feet in the air and partly, it makes you want to rip your hair out. You like Wonwoo. It’s something so unexpected it makes you feel very bare as you stand there on the grass outside of your university, with your cold hands buried in the pockets of your jacket and Wonwoo’s eyes glimmering in the faint sunlight. 

You like him. God, it feels weird to admit. 

“About that day…” Wonwoo’s voice brings you back to reality, and you take a second to register what he’s saying.

“I freaked you out, didn’t I?” you ask. 

“No, no, it’s not that,” he looks away and sighs softly, only to look directly at you the next second. “I just wanted to make sure you remember that one mistake doesn’t make you a failure. I should’ve said it earlier, but that day I was a bit… taken aback, I suppose. Not by the crying, obviously, but by the whole situation. And you.” 

“Me,” you repeat, tasting the word on your tongue. Your heart starts beating a little faster, despite your best efforts at staying calm. He’s just talking after all; it’s not like this is some sort of love confession.

“Not in a bad way. Just in a new way,” he’s quick to assure you and you feel your heart swell in your chest. 

“New. You make it sound so pretty.”

You laugh a bit, looking down on your hands. It. Does he even know what you mean? Does he know you’re talking about the fact that you’re slowly but surely starting to fall in love with him? Or is he just talking about seeing you vulnerable the other day? 

“What would you call it?” he asks and you can’t stop your gaze from drifting back to him.

“I don’t know, confusing? And kind of insane.”

You swear his eyes drop to your lips for a mere second at that. He doesn’t say anything, just walks by you in silence, and it drives you crazy. You wish he’d say something – anything – just so you’d know if you’re even on the same page, but you don’t rush him. 

Finally, he smiles at you. 

“If insanity is losing control, then yes, I suppose I’m going insane. But it doesn’t feel all that insane to me.”

His eyes crinkle, soft streaks of sun painted across his face and you almost sigh. In delight, relief, or maybe fear, you’re not sure, but it’s those words, you think, that will linger. Those are the types of words to never abandon your mind, you’re sure of it. 

“Did you rehearse this in front of the mirror or something?” you scoff at him, heart heavy in your chest. 

He only laughs, and the sound stays in the air for a long time after you’ve left. 

—

To say you were shocked to see Jeon Wonwoo sitting outside of his dorm with his head in his hands would be a major understatement. 

You had grown closer to him in the past weeks — walking shoulder to shoulder around campus; him helping you with your homework — it all would’ve seemed unlikely had someone proposed the idea to you a month prior, but now, you had grown to truly enjoy his company. And he enjoyed yours, too. 

In some ways, it stayed normal. 

Comments and half-mean, half-endearing remarks remained untouched; what didn’t was your heart. It seems to be working against you at all times, beating too quickly when Wonwoo unexpectedly smiled in your direction, and dropping down to your stomach in fear whenever you saw him tippling over in emotion, only for the feeling to fade to the sound of his laugh.

This time, though, it doesn’t fade, only intensifies as you hear him curse under his breath. 

“Wonwoo?” you try, and his shoulders tense ever so slightly. 

You watch as he sighs, rubbing his eyes, then sits up straight, back against the wall. He doesn’t respond, even as his eyes, frail as ever, look into yours. They’re a bit darker than usual, and his lashes flutter as he blinks up at you. 

There’s no one in the hallway, as if this part of the school emptied just to grant you a moment of privacy; a deciding moment, something in your stomach tells you. 

“What’s happened?” you ask softly, quietly, unsure of what else to do with this obviously unhappy Jeon Wonwoo that’s sitting on the ground in front of you. 

“It’s nothing,” he mumbles in response, leaning on his arms to stand up. “Just some school stuff.”

The corners of his mouth lift in a small smile, but you call his bullshit. You don’t necessarily doubt the genuinity of his smile, but the way he said it makes you think there is something that happened. 

Taking a step in his direction, you nudge him with your elbow. 

“What, the golden boy failed a test for the first time in his life?”

His eyes change at that — soft crinkles appearing at the very edges of them. His shoulders relax, too, and though it’s barely visible, you see it clearly. The air feels a lot lighter when he tongues his cheek and nudges you back. 

“You sure run your mouth a lot, Y/N,” he grins and you feel butterflies flapping around in the very pits of your stomach. Then the smile fades to be replaced with a faux scolding look as he says, “I suggest you stop.” 

You move to stand right in front of him, arms crossed over your chest. He’s taller, and you have to tilt your chin to look him right in the eyes as you giggle with a hint of playfulness in your gaze. 

“Or what?”

He sees the smile playing on your face, the giddiness in your tone, and his heart bangs loudly against his chest. You look gorgeous today — well, that’s nothing new but it never ceases to amaze him how you can look prettier for each day that goes by.

Is this it? Is this when he’s supposed to make a move, like Soonyoung told him to? What does even ‘make a move’ mean, exactly? 

He supposes it varies — just like the value of variables in the equations he solves so often. 

Then how come he can’t solve this one?

You’re still standing there, looking at him without a care in the world, and he thinks that he’d never forgive himself if he screwed this up. At the same time, it doesn’t seem like you’re ready to run away from him, and so perhaps making a move doesn’t sound so stupid right now. 

“Or,” he starts, and lets his eyes glide down to your lips for a moment to test the waters. You don’t scream in fear, and he takes it as a good sign. “I’m gonna have to make you.”

You giggle. “Yeah? And how exactly are you gonna do that, big boy?” 

He feels his stomach turning upside down, squeezed by some invisible force and he has to remind himself to breathe. Is he really going through with this? Don’t start something you can’t end, Soonyoung would probably tell him. For once listening to his advice seems reasonable. 

“Like this.”

And before he can even think of backing out, he brings the palms of his hands to cup your face and leans down, placing his lips against yours. 

Taken aback, you let out a startled noise, eyes growing wide. He hesitates upon seeing your reaction, about to pull away when you finally kiss him back, tongue swiping over his lower lip ever so slightly. 

A groan. Then, he’s bringing his hand to the back of your head and pulling you towards him, kissing you until your head starts to spin, and kissing you through that, too. 

Your arms hold onto his shoulders for support, cheek leaning into his touch. Your noses touch clumsily; teeth clash when you open your mouth to let him explore it. Still, it feels like heaven and you can’t bring yourself to pull away for a breath. 

Wonwoo, though, the more sensible one of you two, pulls back after a while, a smile on his lips and breath ragged.  

You look at him — waiting for him to pick up where he left off, but he doesn’t move.

“That’s it?” you ask, and for a brief moment, all color drains from Wonwoo’s face. Did you not like it? Did he do something wrong?

“What do you mean?”

“You’re just going to leave me hanging like that?”

Your lip pulled between your teeth, you look at home expectantly, heart still hammering against your ribs. Truly, it’s not just about wanting more – though that plays a part in it, too – it’s also about whether this was a one-time-thing.

“Was it not enough for you?” he asks, tilting his head to the side after he’s calmed his racing heart. 

“Considering I’ve been waiting for this, like, a month,” you say. “not really, no.”

He smiles down on you — that same smile that makes you weak in the knees, and you know there’s no turning back now. Not that there ever was. 

“I think you’re a bit greedy,” he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and you shiver in anticipation. “I’ve been waiting for half a year, and yet, I still have some self control left.”

“I never had any in the first place.”

And with that, you pull him close for another kiss. 

He doesn’t protest, opening his mouth and sucking on your tongue. His hands move down to your waist this time, pulling your body flush against his. You’ve never experienced being in such close proximity with him, and yet, you don’t feel all that nervous. It all slips away with his soft touches. 

Your hands in his hair — it feels foreign, but he likes that feeling, gets drunk on it. But it’s some kind of reversed intoxication; he doesn’t feel faint; if anything, he’s feeling more sober than ever before as he bathes in your taste, your scent, you. This must be what love feels like, he thinks. This must be it, or else he’s certain he’ll never know love. If this isn’t it, he doesn’t want to know love. 

He hopes you’re at least feeling a fraction of what he’s feeling as he pushes you gently against the wall, hands roaming your body. You do the same, holding onto him like he’s your lifeline, tugging at the strands of hair available to you. 

So caught up in this feeling of bliss, you don’t even notice how you’re not alone with Wonwoo anymore until you hear laughter from a group of bypassing students. 

“Get a room,” someone says and you pull away from Wonwoo immediately, face hot with embarrassment.

He doesn’t appear shaken, though — rather, you glimpse the shadow of a smile playing on his lips as he urges the students to leave. Just as you’re about to ask what he’s smiling about, his fingers close around your wrist and he pulls you along the hallway. He’s all rushed steps until you reach the nearest classroom that turns out to be empty, and he walks inside, dragging you with him. 

Upon closing the door behind him, Wonwoo drags you into his chest. You look up at him, his inquiring gaze that asks for permission, and smile.

“Are you sure?” he asks and your grin turns teasing. 

“Sure about what, Woo?” 

He tongues his cheek, unsure of what to say. You’re just plain teasing him – that much is obvious – so he supposes he can give the same energy back. 

“Sure that you want me to fuck you.”

You’re taken aback, though perhaps you shouldn’t be, considering how you set yourself up for this with your question. Still, your breath catches in your throat and your hand holds onto one of the nearby desks for stability as you face him. Wonwoo looks different now, to some extent; maybe it’s the lighting that gives his eyes a different glow, or maybe it’s how the air has suddenly become swollen with tension. 

Whatever the cause, it excites you to no end, the way he’s looking at you when you take his hand in yours. Like you’re the only thing that matters. 

“Yeah,” you say finally. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

At that, he pulls you impossibly closer. He takes off his glasses in a manner that you in a drunken state would’ve most likely called seductive, and throws them away somewhere you can’t see, too busy kissing him back when his lips crash into yours for the nth time today. He kisses you so hard it knocks the breath out of your lungs, and all thoughts out of your brain. 

Mouth open, you let his tongue explore it and simultaneously, you allow him to walk you further into the classroom, until the back of your thighs hit one of the desks. Standing between your legs, he pushes your shirt up so his fingers can graze the bare skin underneath, and you sigh in content. 

Before you know it, he’s pulling away to peel off your shirt and bra, leaving you bare in front of him.

“You’re beautiful, you know,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to yours again.

You smile into the kiss, goosebumps spreading over your skin with the touches of his fingers that glide further up your thigh, until they slip under your skirt. Knuckles running over your soaked panties, he bites your lip and you let out a delighted moan. 

“You’re so wet,” he comments as he slips a finger under your panties, running it through your folds. You can already feel another flood of arousal approaching just because of his words. “Won’t even need to prep you, huh?”

You desperately shake your head no, and he chuckles.

He lays his palm flat against your clit and you squirm until he retracts it. Playfulness in his gaze, he smears your arousal all over your cunt, ignoring your whines. This takes him at least half a minute before he finally – upon hearing you whimper his name in a way that makes his pants a whole lot tighter all of a sudden – gives in and slides one of his fingers into your pussy. 

You throw your head back with a whimper, holding onto his shoulder as he starts pumping it in and out of you, noises caused by the movement filling the air. 

“Oh my god,” you breathe as he adds another one, your cunt tightening around his digits endlessly. 

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder which is an immense contrast to how he curls his fingers inside of you, hitting that one spot that makes your toes curl. He plunges his digits in and out of your hole as his thumb circles your clit, until you’re moaning loudly — despite how little time has really passed. 

It’s in utter shock that you watch him retract his hand completely, sucking the arousal from his fingers with a smile. 

“Wha–” is all you manage to say before he flips you over, bending you over the desk. 

You’re painfully aware of how bare you are in front of him — your naked cunt on display, because your skirt doesn’t do much to cover anything at all, and your tits pressed against the wood of the desk. Plus the fact that the locked door won’t do much good if someone is to have class in this room next period. Which would be in about thirty minutes. 

Not that you care. Or, essentially, you do care, but now it doesn’t really matter — besides, you’re certain that Wonwoo would’ve managed to come up with some sort of excuse had you been forced to open the door for some frustrated professor. 

Amidst your thoughts, you almost fail to hear the sound of Wonwoo unclasping his belt. Almost. But when you do hear it, something turns pleasantly in your stomach. 

“You gonna be good for me and stay quiet?” Wonwoo asks and you feel his hands move to hold your hips, cock positioned at your entrance. 

You mumble something in affirmation, something you’re not even sure you can hear yourself, and spread your legs to urge him on. You feel his cock prod at your soaked cunt, run through your folds languidly; again and again, until you’re whining his name in protest. 

He only chuckles at your behavior, and asks, albeit teasingly, “What did you say?”

Gathering your thoughts, you try your best to ignore the way he’s dragging his dick over your pussy, occasionally rubbing over your clit. 

“Yes, I’ll be good for you, Wonwoo.”

Pleased with this response, he finally enters you — cock stretching you open and making you cry out, holding onto the desk for support. He’s big, you realize, tears prodding at your eyes as he bottoms out. 

“Yeah? Gonna be my good girl?” 

You nod and nod, fingers turning white from how you’re gripping the wooden desk once he starts moving — in languid strokes, he manages to turn your moans louder and louder. 

His hands hold onto your hips, pushing them against him so you’re further impaled on his cock with each thrust, and you swear you feel him all the way in your stomach. It’s a good feeling, one you can barely register fully with the way your mind’s gone hazy. 

You hardly notice it when one of his hands lets go of your hips and comes up to your lips, fingers tapping at your chin as a signal to open your mouth. When you do, he slips two digits inside and you suck on them obediently, tightening around his cock. 

Wonwoo smiles.

“Thought I told you to be quiet, baby.”

In all honesty, he loves the nosies you’re making, but he can’t risk someone starting to bang on the door before he’s got you falling apart completely. Besides, the sight of you sucking on his fingers is just as pleasing; just as effective in making his cock twitch in your cunt. 

Your walls suck him in perfectly, the sound of him gliding in and out of your pussy loud in the empty classroom. His thrusts grow gradually harder; the desk starts moving in rhythm with them, and you can’t help letting out moans and whimpers that his digits in your mouth do a poor job of concealing. 

He realizes this, and decides on removing his fingers so they can grab at your hair instead, pulling your back closer to his chest. Your tits bounce with his movements, and he plays with them briefly, groaning as your pussy clamps down on him especially hard at that, but then his hand moves between your legs to tend to your clit. 

He rubs it in circles, granting you an occasional pinch or slap that makes you cry out, and you feel the knot in your stomach grow tighter and tighter. 

“Feels so good, Wonwoo,” you sob, tears streaming down your cheeks as his fingers abuse your swollen clit. 

“I know, baby.”

Barely coherent, you beg him not to stop, and he wonders whatever even prompted you to think that he might want to stop. He only fucks into you harder, hand on your hips to steady the thrusts that bring you closer and closer to coming. 

“Wonwoo,” you say. “So close.”

“Yeah? Gonna come for me, baby? Gonna come all over my cock like a slut?”

You nod, though he probably doesn't see, and he pulls you even closer, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the sight in front of him. And to think he could’ve had this earlier had he taken the chance. You in the shortest skirt he’s ever seen, moaning his name like you don’t care if anyone hears — he honestly thinks he might be in heaven. 

“Good girl,” he groans, and that’s what sends you over the edge, your pussy clamping down on his cock as you reach your orgasm. “Good fucking girl.”

He comes less than five seconds later, buried deep inside of you as his cum coats your walls. You whimper at the overstimulation of his last thrusts, collapsing on top of the desk when he pulls out. 

He’s careful not to hurt you, but you still wince slightly, which prompts him to ask you if you’re okay.

“Never better,” you reply, and as soon as you say it, you realize it’s true. 

Wonwoo smiles. He helps you clean up – repeatedly apologizing that he’s wiping you clean with the paper by the classroom sink, even though you tell him it’s fine – and puts his glasses on again. It kind of makes you wish he’d never taken them off, but there’s no way you’re telling him that. Your opinion about his beauty is something you’ll keep to yourself for now. 

You get ready to leave just as someone knocks on the door, and Wonwoo opens it for a very flustered professor that tells you he’s sorry for interrupting. Wonwoo tries telling him it’s not like that – though it definitely is like that, and the blush coating his cheeks does nothing to hide it – and finally, you’re in the hallway, free. 

“Poor guy,” you comment, a smile playing on your lips.

Wonwoo sighs. “Tell me about it. And here I was, thinking we’d gotten lucky.”

“I think we did get lucky, though.”

You say this without thinking it through, but from the way Wonwoo’s eyes light up, you’re glad you didn’t. 

Suddenly, the doors to all classrooms in the hallway open and out come tired students, marking the start of the next period. Which you’re supposed to spend in biology.

You sigh, and Wonwoo seems to get it, because he tells you to leave for class. 

“By the way, Y/N,” Wonwoo says just as you’re about to leave. Something in his gaze tells you this isn’t just a ‘by the way’ thing. “In case it wasn’t obvious, I’m really in love with you. And I’d like you to be my girlfriend.”

“Well, you’re in luck, mister,” you kiss his jaw with a grin. “Because it so happens that I’m in love with you, too. And I’d love to be your girlfriend.”

TAGLIST: @just-here-to-read-01 @syn-hhj @nikkell @dollyji

[jwnzlvr]

you… want to try what?

pairing : bf!fushiguro toji x fem!reader

summary : toji wants to piss in you, you can’t say no to him. that’s it.

wc : 1k

warnings : SMUT (mdni), piss, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t do that!), PISSING INSIDE, degradation (use of bitch, slut, just treating reader as less), pussy slapping, not proofread

notes : where would you people be without me? JOKINGIM JOKING anyways for the toji piss kink enthusiasts… this one’s for u fam 🙏🏻 also this is messy i am aware. in tired. im running on like four cups of coffee, four hours of sleep and a blueberry muffin. please enjoy.

of all the things your boyfriend wanted to try out with you, this was one of the ones you didn’t expect he’d actually want. you both sat on your shared couch, your eyes wide with toji’s latest request.

“you… want to try what?” you spoke slowly as to understand toji. he only clicked his tongue at you and crossed his arms over his chest. “why do i have to repeat myself?” he groaned out before continuing.

“i wanna try pissin’ in you. like you know when i cum in you? that but with piss.” you couldn’t help the way your jaw slowly opened at how casual he sounded about this. yeah, he definitely didn’t sound like he’d just asked for something anyone else would consider very fucking filthy. 

however, you weren’t anyone else. your interest peaked at his request. you were just as filthy as toji, you couldn’t even keep acting like you were shocked. “okay. when do you wanna try this?” you asked, dropping the whole shocked facade.

“right now.”

and that’s how you ended up on all fours, his cock pistoning in and out of you from behind. your hands gripped at the sheets while your moans were muffled by the pillows in your face.

toji had a satisfied smirk on his face as he saw how you fell apart for him. “what’s wrong, baby? this dick feel too good for you?” he’d almost snicker at you. you couldn’t even come up with a response for him. he was right, the dick did feel too good for you.

he gave a disapproving grunt at your lack of response. he moved one of his hand from your hips to your hair, tugging it to draw a small yelp out of you. “answer me, bitch. does this dick feel too good?” he borderline growled as his grip on your hair became tighter.

your head begins nodding against the pillows with loud moans interrupting your response. “yes! fuck- oh my god, toji!” his strong grip on your hair only made you more desperate for him. he gave a cocky grin at your answer. using his grip on your hair, he pulled you up to where your back was against his chest. his hips didn’t falter once during that movement.

“you know i’m the only one who can make you feel good. who owns you? who’s the only man who can fuck you this good? use that pretty little head to answer me.” his tone was derogatory. he spoke to you as if you were less than him. yet it turned you on even more.

you let out a loud whine before answering him. “you! ‘s you, toji… only you can fuck me this good.” you panted out, a moan being ripped from your throat. toji clicked his tongue approvingly. “that’s right, good girl. i knew you could answer me.” 

the way he was degrading you then switching to praising you like it was nothing was giving you extreme whiplash. you felt your high approaching, squeezing around toji. toji knew when you were about to cum. out of nowhere, his arm wrapped around your neck. he’d trapped you in a headlock.

“you gonna cum? you little slut, go ahead and cream my cock. i know you want to.” he had a sickening grin on his face. you let out choked gasps as you came around him, your whines and whimpers being distorted by the force around your neck. he groaned out loud as he came too, painting your walls white. even after he came, toji didn’t stop his thrusts. he wanted to make sure you both were overstimulated for this next part.

when he heard your little choked begs for him to stop, that it was starting to hurt, he knew it was time. he looked at your face. you were already looking lightheaded and on the verge of passing out on him. he suddenly stopped his sloppy thrusts and buried himself deep inside of you.

your eyebrows furrowed in question as to why he stopped. at least, until you finally felt it. toji looked at you with a maniacal grin. he was pissing in you. his lock on your head started to loosen just a little bit with each passing moment that he pissed inside of you. he eventually let go of your neck to fully indulge in the sensation.

toji groaned in pleasure at the feeling of letting go in your pussy. “fuck, you’re so fucking soft and warm. just made to take me. my dick, my cum, my piss. your pussy fucking loves me, doesn’t she?” his stream of piss was strong, hitting against your womb. you couldn’t help clenching on his cock as you felt fuller and fuller. 

he hissed at your grip on him, somehow pissing into you even harder. his piss began to dribble out of your hole and onto your sheets. you knew that’d be a pain in the ass to clean later that night. with each passing moment that toji pissed in you, you felt your high building up once again. you didn’t think him pissing in you would feel like heaven.

you crept your hand down to your clit and rubbed messy circles on it. you knew if you were fast enough that you’d cum just from him pissing inside of you. toji took notice of this and used one of his hands to take your hand away. his other hand came down to slap your pussy. you yelped and clenched on him, more piss flowing out of your full hole.

“did i tell you you could cum again? just finish takin’ my piss…” he’d groan out. by this point, his head was thrown back. everything just felt too good. his steady stream slowed into a dribble which ended in a few drops more. as soon as he was done, he pulled out of you. he watched in awe as his cum and piss gushed out of your clenching pussy only to drench your sheets.

he had a smirk on his face as he watched it all happen. he pressed a kiss against your neck. “thank you, baby… you did so fuckin’ good f’r me.” he praised you, his hands caressing your hips. you only turned and gave him a small glare.

“you’re cleaning all this shit up, do you understand?”

toji enthusiasts send asks or requests the brainrot is going crazy rn.

[new-york-no-shoes]

An extremely non comprehensive list of my favorite ways Taylor has referred to people in songs:

-Bold waitress down by the lakes (derogatory)

-Some guy (irrelevant)

-Your Roommate (poor)

-Creeps (swifties, derogatory)

-Vipers dressed in empaths clothing (swifties, extremely Derogatory)

-My daddy (Scott but with the implication that he could beat someone up)

-Pretty Baby (about someone who, respectfully, looks like he could perpetually use a shower)

-You Kids (tiktok swifties. She told me)

- Careless man’s careful daughter (a double drag)

-Jack (synth man. Bestie.)

-Something they can’t take away (swifties, positive)

-Your bros (gamers)

-Dickhead guy (frightful Adam)

-The girls back home (inferior losers)

-My cats (cockblockers)

-Owner of organic shoes, solely indie records, and a shrink who might just break HIPPA to confirm that he’ll always be miserable (pretentious douche)

[kisakunt]

U UP? - SATORU GOJO

you’ve got a big problem. and that problem has the biggest eyes you’ve ever seen.

wc: 1.2k

satoru (derogatory): hey :p

you’re bored, truthfully. it’s a bad saturday night— all of your friends drowning with work, or babies, or friends who don’t like you, or anything you could imagine. that’s the only reason you respond, you tell yourself, but deep down you know you would’ve even if you were at the bar.

grown ass man btw

satoru (derogatory): well that’s just not nice at all now is it

it’s not an easy feat to know gojo. your relationship is, for lack of better word, complicated. he texts you after dates to tell you how miserable (or amazing) it was, you fall asleep in his bed with his hand tracing stars into your arm, he plays the ‘have you met ted?’ game with you whenever he sees a man who might tickle your fancy in public, you pick him up his favorite snacks days before you’re assured you’re going to see him, he writes notes and leaves them tucked into your purse every time you hang out.

he’s an enigma, you think. and a damn bastard too— especially every time you’re alone in the confines of his room and he shows you those big, bright, deadly eyes.

what do you want .

your fingers tap over the volume button on your phone, lip tugged between your teeth as you wait in the index of your messages, staring at his typing bubble from outside the chat.

satoru (derogatory): movie night? game night? yap night? come over we miss each other >:)

you should maybe just kill yourself at this point. yeah, you’re fucked. absolutely, positively fucked.

who says i have ever missed you a day in my life

satoru (derogatory): quit being so mean!! i want to see my queen 🙇‍♂️

you’re kidding yourself because the second he texted you you’d looked through your camera roll to find which outfit you’d change into before you came over. you’re kidding yourself because the second he asked you to come over, you were jumping for your eyeliner and mascara.

this is fucked up.

yeah ok On my way!

satoru (derogatory): ew just say omw you freak

it’s not hard to find your way to satoru. it’s like you have something inside you that guides you to him— so it makes sense that it took you all of two times to memorize the twenty six minute drive to his house. your body settles as you walk through his complex, you melt into yourself when you get the familiar smell of him through the crack of his door.

you’re met with blue. fuck. and plaid pajama pants and a loose gray shirt. double fuck. this is obscene and you are no better than all of the other girls in the satoru gojo fan club.

“hi, pretty lady.”

“hello, satoru.” short and sweet. plain and simple.

“that’s all i get? harsh,” he laughs, bumping his shoulder into your own, lightly putting his hand over the small of your back as he guides you to his room as if you don’t know where it is.

it smells like him. a little off, a little dior, a little manly, the smallest bit like laundry. it’s so raw and real you think you’d open your veins and fill them with it.

“did you want a desperate love confession?” he scrunches his face up, easy grin on his face.

“well that would be lovely.”

it’s ritualistic. no matter what you say you’re going to do, what plans either of you have for the night, within the first two minutes you end up with your back against his chest and one of his hands on your thigh and the other around your waist. you think he’s insane.

he goes on and on, telling you about his day and boring you with all the small little details, and you wonder if you might be in love. you figure, begrudgingly, that you are.

“hey, you good? zoning out there.” he waves a hand over your face, you can’t help but notice how little callouses he has.

“what are we doing?” the worst question a woman could ever ask comes out before you can think twice. oh, so you’re really just a fucking idiot then.

“hm?” he pauses, puts his hand back down to your hip, and looks up at the ceiling before back to your face.

“well,” it’s a drawl, his usual exuberant and over the top tone teasing at you. “me personally, i’m just hanging out with my favorite person ever.”

that’s not good enough for you though. that wouldn’t be good enough for anyone, you feel, if they happened to be in love with the so-called honored one. but beyond that, that wouldn’t be enough for anyone who got to genuinely spend ten minutes alone with satoru.

“okay.” it seems that’s all you can muster. and it seems, he picked up on that.

“and,” he sighs, head dipping down to press a kiss to your eyebrow. “i’m spending time with the only person who ever makes me feel content anymore.”

fuck.

“the only person i’d ever let in my room— you know how much i love my room.” you huff a smile, but you think if you made a quick jab at him your voice would fail you.

“the only person who knows exactly what to order me— because no matter how much i say i like zunda, you know fresh cream is actually my favorite kikufuku.”

you’re completely, utterly fucked.

“the only person who dares be as insanely and completely mean to me as you are.”

“satoru,”

“the only person i think actually makes me feel like i am a worthwhile person.” and that hits. that hits hard, like nothing has ever hit you before.

“satoru.” its got a softness to it— the way you say his name. none of that sharp edge or desperate pining like there normally is. just pure, unequivocal kindness.

“what are you doing?” your name sounds like a prayer from him. before you can even think, he continues. “what are you doing with me?”

it takes awhile for you to say something. you can tell by the way he taps your hipbone, satoru gojo is nervous. he hides it well, though, eyes looking down at you, smug grin strapped to his face as if he knows what you’re gonna say. and maybe he does. maybe everyone in the whole world knows what’s about to leave your mouth.

but still, he is nervous. you realize, right now, you have his itty bitty heart in your hands and you think you could just lift it to your mouth and take the biggest bite.

“i think i love you.”

“how rude,” he huffs, fingers gripping into your skin, and he is beaming. “i know i love you. show a little certainty why don’t you?”

“oh.” you don’t seem to be very good with words right now. you think you may even be making a fool of yourself. but you don’t care. satoru gojo— mister six eyes, the strongest, the honored one, the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, the light of your life— just told you he loves you. and what can you really say to that?

“me, too.” well that was stupid.

“i know, pretty girl.” it’s a reprise from earlier, but there’s a new weight to his words. you want to kiss him. you want to kiss him always, you want to kiss him bad, you want to kiss him now.

but before you can, he leans down and dusts the bridge of your nose with the softest touch of his lips you could’ve ever imagined.

“we’re doing whatever you want. just take your time, okay?”

thank fucking god your friends were busy.

[absurdthirst]

Fight to Get Home to You {Pero Tovar x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.3k

Warnings: Hate sex, angry sex, derogatory comments, goading and bickering, anger, confusion and stubborn people refusing to talk, baby!, Pero is a girl dad, mandatory Pero bath, holding a baby for the first time, confessions, idiots in love, oral sex (female receiving), mentions of post baby body, lactation, vaginal sex, mentions of virginity, Pero has a heart, loving making, soft kisses and promises, happy endings.

Comments: Riding with Pero Tovar, you hiss and spit at him, even when he slides into your bedroll at night when the men are sleeping. Until the day you ride away to keep a secret from the prickly Spaniard. One that he discovers when he finds you after his journey to the East is complete. Learning that neither one of you really hated the other.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Pero Tovar MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The fire crackles, sending a warm glow that chases away the darkness that surrounds you. In the dark, you can hear the horses munching on the little brush that you had managed to find, stopping and occasionally neighing softly as they rest. Happy to have the saddles and bags off their backs for a few hours while the men who rode them slept. The snorts of the men sound like bears hibernating in caves, making you roll your eyes and huff silently, shifting under your blankets as you try to settle in to get your own rest. 

A hand slaps over your mouth, making you reach for the sheathed dagger at your hip. “Fight if you want, amiga.” The chuckle in your ear is warm, making you hiss against his palm, other hand reaching around your body to tear at the laces of your breeches. “You seem to enjoy it more when you do.” Pero Tovar rocks his hips against your ass, pushing the hardness that has nothing to do with armor against you. His cock aching ready to sink into your cunt and he knows you are annoyed that he would climb into your bedroll right here in front of the fire where any man could wake up and see. 

Pero pushes his hand into your breeches, knowing you love when he rubs that little pulsing bundle of nerves. He groans when you reach behind you to squeeze him through his breeches, blindly fumbling to undo the laces but he’s already ahead of you. All you have to do is reach in and pull his hard cock out. He groans into your neck when you squeeze him, loving the way you rock down onto his hand. “That’s it, hermosa.” He murmurs as he works on wiggling you out of your pants. “Please.” You beg, knowing you’ll regret it in the morning but right now, you’re soaking wet for him. He chuckles softly against your ear, “I got you.” You whine when he manages to push the material down enough for his cock to slide between your thighs and you reach down to help him notch himself at your entrance.

You choke out a grunt, trying to keep from being too loud as he pushes inside you. The Spaniard's cock fills you, he’s thick and long, making your eyes roll back when his hips are flush against your ass. You don’t know why you let him fuck you, when the sun is up, he ignores you or the two of you spit and grumble at each other. You don’t really like him, but you let him fuck you until your toes curl and your eyes cross in pleasure. “Fuck.” You roll onto your stomach, taking him with you and enjoying the way he presses you down.

He grunts, shifting to kneel behind you, his elbows on either side of your head as he starts to rock into you, pressing you into the bedroll and your hot walls grip his cock. “Fuck, hermosa. You feel - fuck.” He hisses into your neck, “taking everything I give you like a needy whore.”

That’s rich, coming from the man who would fuck every whore available if he had the coins. The first time he had taken you was leaning against a tree, the blood of the men you had both killed still splatter on your armor. “Fuck you.” You hiss quietly.

He chuckles, making you clench around him. His hips press against your ass as he grinds as deep as he can. “No, I’m fucking you, princesa.” He emphasizes and you reach behind you to grab onto his hair, making him growl and his cock twitch inside you.

You should not let him touch you, but you’ve grown addicted to the way he scrubs against your walls and presses deep. He’s handsome, even if you don’t like him beyond the sex. You get along with William, but he is not your type it seems. Pushing your ass back, you yank on his hair a little harder and smirk when he groans into your ear.

One of the men you are traveling with snorts and Pero freezes for a second until the man begins to snore again. He takes that as permission to go hard so he starts to fuck you, thrusting into your tight cunt and the noise of your wetness makes him chuckle into the nape of your neck. “You love it when I fuck you, don’t you, princesa?” He asks, his voice raspy as it vibrates against your skin.

You roll your eyes at his cockiness. “I could do better.” You huff, fingers curling into fists as he hammers away into your body. The sex is amazing but you can’t help but snark at him while he’s touching you.

Tovar scoffs, “your little fingers wouldn’t be able to reach where my cock does. They wouldn’t stretch you out like I do. I wreck this little cunt. And you fucking love it.” He rasps into your ear as he adjusts the ankle, chuckling when you gasp.

You shudder, unable to deny it even if it pisses you off. The best you can manage is a small snort that masks the next moan. The man across from you around the fire shuffles in his blankets but Pero doesn’t stop rocking into you. “You just like my cunt.” You hiss quietly when the other man settles down. “Better than your fist.”

Pero bites down on your neck and you hiss, “fuck.” He chuckles and licks the skin, “your cunt is better than my fist but I still love that my fist doesn’t throw insults at me.”

You snort and clench down around him. “Then fuck your hand.” You spit back, loving how he groans and twitches inside you. “At least until you can find another whorehouse.”

He hisses when you clench around him, pushing deep into your cunt and he is certain the men would hear if it weren't for the liquor they downed from their flasks before finding sleep. "Why would I when I have my own personal whore right here?" He counters with a growl.

His own personal whore. If it would not cause too much of a fuss, you would push him off of you. Instead, you tighten down as hard as you can around his cock, making him choke out a groan. “I don’t remember your coins becoming mine.” You whisper. “Make sure you give them to me on the morrow.”

He smirks against your neck, “I am the one doing all the work here. Maybe if you ride my cock next time.” He chuckles and pushes deep, needing you to clamp down around him before he finds his own pleasure. He may spit fire at you but he doesn’t want you to say he’s a bad lover.

You snort, knowing the cheap bastard would never give you money if he did not have to. You bite your lip, getting close and you wish that you had the type of relationship to demand a kiss, but that was not something you had done in all the times you gave fucked. “Tovar.” You moan his name quietly, about to cum and needing him to silence you.

He knows what you need so he reaches out to cover your mouth with his palm, loving the way your moan vibrates against his skin. “That’s it, princesa. Cum for me.” He demands roughly against your ear, biting down on your earlobe.

The sharp pinch of pain throws you over the edge. Your cry is muffled by his hand as your walls soak him. Clamping down around his cock and trembling violently while you shake in pleasure. Tovar always manages to make you cum, with the exception of one time and that was only because he had been too pent up, still he had rubbed your clit until you came around his softening cock.

The way you clamp down on his cock has his eyes rolling into the back of his head and he groans, "fuck, princesa. Mierda. I'm - fuck." He pants as he thrusts three more times before he's twitching inside you, painting your walls with his hot spend. He's been pent up all day and your heat sent him over the edge.

You hiss against his palm. You will have to sneak down to the river to wash now that he has filled you up instead of pulling out. Tovar hates to pull out, insisting that the herbs you take to prevent your flow makes it unnecessary for him to do so. Preferring to spill inside your cunt.

Tovar grunts as he relaxes above you, his cock softening and he pulls out before he ends up getting caught. He shifts to his knees and tucks his cock away, tying his breeches. Your ass is on display and he can’t help but smack it. “Good as always, princesa.” He chuckles and shifts to stand up.

You turn around and shoot him a glare. “You should have spilled your seed in your hand.” You hiss quietly. “Now I will have to piss and clean up your mess.”

He chuckles, shifting to stand up, “I know you love it when I fill you up.” He smirks, knowing you have begged him in the past to paint you with his cum. Sometimes, when you’re able to, he likes to see your tits shining with his seed but that’s a rare event to have enough privacy for it.

Huffing, you pull yourself up and drag your breeches up your thighs. “I hope your horse stomps on your foot tomorrow.” You growl, stomping off into the dark to go wash your cunt and give him time to settle down before you say something worse.

Pero snorts as he watches you stride off. He would never tell you but he usually sneaks around to watch your back, make sure no one attacks you while you are washing. He’s back under his blankets before you return and pretending to be asleep but he opens his eyes to look at you when you turn over on your bedroll. He never imagined he’d find a woman like you. He can never have you, not completely.

**** 

“I am leaving.” You had almost slipped away in the middle of the night, deciding to take the coward's way out and not have the conversation that you had been dreading. You had been thinking about it for weeks, but it’s time. “Today.” You look up from your seat on a broken log by the river where the horses are resting.

Pero frowns at the need, “leaving? Why?” He demands to know, wanting to know the reason. He doesn’t like the thought of you on your own out there. It’s dangerous. “What are you thinking? You’ll be killed.”

You roll your eyes. “I have saved your ass more than once, I will be fine.” You knew he would bitch about this, having grumbled when you joined the group. Now he was grumbling you were leaving. “I am going back to my home village.”

Pero looks over at William, the three of you the only ones remaining before you venture across the sea to the east. “You do not need to return there. Come with us to the east. We will care for you.” Pero demands and William smirks, having been aware of your dirty little secret but he’s never voiced it.

“No.” You shake your head. “I have made up my mind. If I leave now, I can be settled before the winter sets in.” You bite your lip, smirking slightly even though you don’t feel nearly as confident as you would like. “It will be the first night I’ve had peace since I’ve met you and I’m looking forward to it.”

Tovar shakes his head and opens his mouth to protest but William places his hand on the Spaniard’s shoulder. “Don’t, brother. Let her go.” He isn’t stupid, he knows what has been going on between you. “Besides, I thought you’d be happy to be rid of me.” You chuckle and Pero bites his lip, holding back what he wants to say but he’s spiteful when he says “only your cunt.”

You clench your jaw, biting back the angry words that come so easily when you talk to him. You had hoped that this would be easy, that he would be relieved that you are leaving, but obviously not. Or he truly only did like your cunt for company. “Well.” You slap your thighs and stand up, dusting yourself off. “Then I have nothing left to say.” Your horse is already saddled, like theirs are, and you have made sure to pack some of the rations for yourself, not too much, but enough to get you home. “Don’t poison the buzzards when they eat your carcass.” You snip, swinging up onto your mount’s back. “Be safe.” It’s directed towards William, but it’s meant for both of them. You know that the Irishman will watch Pero’s back.

Pero clenches his jaw, wanting to demand you don’t leave but he can’t do that. It’s not his place to control you, you don’t even like him. He sighs and shakes his head, “don’t die out there, princesa. Your body won’t rot away. It will be used.” He warns you, knowing how vile men can be. That’s why he wants to keep you close but he can’t. You hate him. That’s why you’re leaving.

You don’t say anything else, just nodding to the two men and urging your horse to start walking, turning his head away from the camp. Not looking back before the horse breaks into a run, eager to eat up the distance between here and home. You need to get away from Pero. You can’t be around him and keep your secret.

****

Pero is grumpy and ferocious from that moment on. After returning from the east barely alive, he’s pent up and wondering where the hell you are. William stayed with the General and Pero is alone. He hates being alone. Even if he’d never admit it. He tries to remember what you told him about your village and he remembers that it was at the bottom of a mountain in a valley about four days' ride from where you left. Pero decides to try and find you. He stops in every village, asking for you, to no avail. He sighs and shakes his head, making his way to the next village after spending the night in the whorehouse. He is a man with needs after all. He makes his way to the next village and the priest’s eyes widen when he asks after you, “she lives near the stream.” Pero’s heart pounds and he swings his leg over his stallion after tossing some coins to the priest, “for my sins.” He declares before he rides off. He finds the small cottage, it’s picturesque by the stream, the mountain looking behind it, and he swings off his horse, swallowing harshly. His boots crackle with the gravel as he makes his way to the front door and knocks.

Expecting the tanner to come and take the skins from the animals you had trapped, you wipe your hands and move to the door. It had taken some time to get used to wearing skirts again, but you still wore breeches when you were hunting or working in your vegetable garden. Usually keeping the more feminine wear for when you were going into the village or when the few merchants who would come to you would arrive. “I have quite a few-“ you stop dead as you open the door to reveal someone unexpected on your doorstep. “Tovar.” You hate how your heart pounds and you wonder why he’s here. “What are you doing here?” You demand. “How did you find me?”

Pero inhales sharply, you look just as beautiful as you did the day you rode away from him and William. "I - I wanted to see you." He says lamely, "we went to the east and William remained there so I- I wanted to see you and I-" He cuts himself off and swallows, "it was a bad idea. I'm sorry. I shouldn't - I'll go." He promises, starting to back away from the door when he hears a baby cry.

Your eyes widen, hoping that the baby would have slept through this surprise. “I-“ you don’t say anything else, just turning and rushing towards the screen that separates the bed from the rest of the house. The small cradle you had lain in when you were a baby is now holding your own child and you lean over and coo to her. “Why are you so fussy?” You hum softly, picking up your months old daughter and putting her to your chest while you pull down the front of your dress to give her your breast. “Is my little button hungry?” You coo, smiling when she immediately latches on and suckles hungrily.

Pero can’t help but enter your home, watching with rapture as you cradle the baby suckling on your breast. He frowns at her dark mop of hair and he counts the months. Wondering if - “is she mine?” He chokes out, curious and his heart pounding.

Your eyes flicker up to find him watching you, horror and curiosity burning in his eyes. “No, she’s William’s obviously.” Annoyed that the Spaniard would think that you were fucking anyone else while he spent the months you rode together fucking you. You look back down at her, her little eyes drifting closed and smile softly before you frown and glance at him again. “Why are you here, Tovar?” You demand. “Felt like fighting again? Or do the whorehouses not accept your coin?”

He’s speechless, watching you gently rock the baby and he swallows, his throat dry. “I- I can’t - she’s - a girl. Princesa.” He chokes as he takes a step over to you. “You were alone and I - I wasn’t here to protect you.”

“Yes, she’s a girl.” You narrow your eyes, angry that he seems disappointed that you did not birth him a son. “A girl bastard is better than a boy.” You hiss. “I was capable of protecting myself. I did. I gave birth with the help of a midwife from the village. What could you have done?”

Pero’s stomach twists and he shakes his head, “I never - I would’ve been here.” He promises, “but you left and - did you know? Is that why you left? Why you didn’t come to the east with us?” He narrows his eyes as he accuses you.

You snort and shrug, “What does it matter?” You ask. “It would have been dangerous for me, and I was only as useful as my cunt, so I would have just put both of you in danger.” You don’t add that he never would have known if he had not come to find you. “It is your fault for continuously spilling inside me.”

Tovar has the emotions to feel guilty but he swallows harshly and nods, “you’re right, princesa. I - I shouldn’t have gone. We were nearly killed. Several times and I- I got greedy. Tried to steal and it nearly cost me my life. I am sorry for putting your life in danger and leaving you full of my child.”

You’re surprised that he will admit that he was wrong, Pero never does that. “You? Greedy?” You snort, shaking your head. “I never would have imagined it.” You tell him sarcastically. The baby pulls off your breast and you shift her to your shoulder to burp.

He watches you as you burp her and then cradle her in your arms, rocking her as she sleeps, and Pero's heart lurches. "I am truly sorry, princesa. I - I'll go." He stumbles back, knowing he isn't wanted here.

The sun will set in an hour and you know the inn in the village will charge him an outrageous amount for a bed. You sigh and roll your eyes. “Stay.” You huff softly. “Unless you plan to camp outside.”

He frowns, “I was planning to. I didn’t - I never want to assume that you wanted me here. I figured you’d be spitting venom at me like you used to. I just…I had to find you. I will go if you wish me to.” He promises and bows his head slightly.

As if to protest, your daughter gives a small cry, her face screwing up in anger and looking just like the man who sired her before she settles back down in your arms. You look down at her and then back up at Pero. “You will need to bathe if you are to stay.” You huff. “I don’t want her to get sick.”

Pero is surprised you’re letting him stay but his heart thumps at the news and he nods, “of course. I have been traveling for many months. Let me - I can go to the stream.” He offers, not wanting you to go through any trouble for him when you are giving him a bed to sleep in.

“There is a barrel by the door.” You roll your eyes, aware that the man might be a pig when he travels, but he loves luxury. He paid for a hot bath at every inn you had stopped at. “Bring in water and we will heat it.” You instruct. “The stream will not get you clean enough.”

He nods, secretly relieved, and he sets his satchel down and makes his way over to the door to fetch the buckets of water. He really is filthy. He barely stopped in an inn to find you. He was desperate, especially since he’s alone. He sets the barrel down and watches as you set the baby in the cot, shushing her before you turn to start working on hearing the water for the tub in the corner of the room.

You feel that he is watching you. Making you aware that it’s the first time that Pero has seen you in skirts. “You said William stayed?” You ask as you work. “He’s not dead?”

He watches you as your skirts sway and he thinks you look beautiful. You seem to have a glow about you. Home life suits you. You’re clean and you look comfortable. “He’s alive. He decided to remain in China. He met a woman. She’s a firecracker. He loves her and I told him to stay. So he did.” He explains, “never imagined the poor bastard would be in love.”

Surprised to hear that, you hum. Whoever the woman was, she must have been special. “So now you are seeking another companion to sell your sword with.” You understand, nodding as you move to get the crock of soap and a drying cloth while the water warms. After that, you will make sure that there is dinner for you both. Tomorrow he will be gone and you can continue your simple little life.

He sighs and shakes his head, “I don’t know. I didn’t really think ahead more than finding you. I need - I want to be here. With you. And our daughter.” He declares, “I will go if you send me away but please let me try to be there for mi hija.” He pleads a little, knowing you’ve never heard that from him.

You almost snort, but you catch yourself. Arguing with Pero will just make him dig his heels in. Just to spite you, he will stay longer than he ever planned. Instead, you just hum. “I have not sent you away yet, have I?” You ask, knowing that he would be bored to tears in less than a week.

He shrugs, “I know you hate me, princesa. Even more so now that I left you with child.” He says and you snort, “I left on my own accord.” He stands, helping you fill the tub, and he groans as he starts to strip off the armor after the tub is steaming. “You left because of me. I- I know you still hate me.”

“You made your own feelings about me clear.” You remind him. “You wanted to steal my horse and leave me alone on the road when you discovered I am a woman.”

Pero snorts, working on his chest plate after setting his sword down. “You lied to us. You tried to steal. If you would’ve told us-” You scoff and spin around, “told you? You would’ve dropped me at the next village.” You spit and Pero nods, “and you would’ve been safer. The road is no place for a woman…even one as skilled with a sword as you.”

“I am no longer on the road.” You remind him, grabbing another bucket of warm water and setting it down next to the bath. “My sword is now only for protecting myself and my daughter.”

His stomach twists, knowing he has not earned the right to be called her father or for you to even let him into your cottage. He’s said some terrible things during your journeys together. “Then she will be protected.” He declares and reaches for the hem of his tunic after he sets his boots aside. Your eyes avert as you pour some oils into the hot water and his naked body is on display as he sets his dirty clothes aside.

You don’t look over at him at first, even though you have never seen him completely nude. Your liaisons had never had the privacy or time for such things. It’s not until he steps into the bath that you turn and look, getting a good view of his strong, scarred back and his small but nice ass. “My father died right after I returned.” You tell him. “So I had a home to keep her safe in. That is all that matters to me.”

He nods, groaning as he steps into the tub, “that’s good. I’m glad you had somewhere to live. I - I should’ve made sure you had somewhere to go but I was angry that you were leaving and-” He cuts himself off as he sinks into the water.

“I wasn’t your problem.” You remind him. “You couldn’t stand me, so I have no reason to believe that you would worry about my well being.” You turn towards your table to start cutting up vegetables for a meal.

Pero swallows, knowing he cannot disclose his true feelings. "You hardly felt warm and fuzzy for me, princesa." He reminds you, "you would spit venom at me with every breath you took." He snorts, "but I - well, it doesn't matter." He sighs and reaches for the rag to start cleaning himself.

You snort, busying yourself as you hear him splash behind you. “I know we did not care for each other.” You chop the root vegetables very fine and sigh yourself. “But I do not expect anything from you. Except a civil tongue around my daughter. When you find a wife and have legitimate children, I will not tolerate her being abused for being a bastard.”

Pero scoffs, “I do not wish to find a wife.” He insists, his eyes watching your back as you cut up vegetables. He continues to wash, “she is not a bastard in my eyes. She’s our child and I - I want to get to know her.” He declares, his stomach twisting as he imagines you laughing in his face and tossing him out with the bath water.

It surprises you and you turn around to face him, telling yourself not to look below the waterline. Even if you have seen it before, his cock is not yours to admire. “Have you ever even been around a baby before?” You ask curiously. He’s rough and quick to temper, easily goaded into a fight, which you do not want for your daughter. She will not tiptoe around in fear of her father’s wrath.

He shakes his head, "no. I have not had the chance. I have been too preoccupied with a sword in my hand but-" He lifts his hands from the water, "I would never hurt her. Once I am dressed, I would like to try...under your guidance of course."

“I can show you what to do.” You nod and turn back to your work. The cauldron is one your parents had cooked in all your life and it’s a comfort to know you will cook your own daughter’s meals in them. You bite your lip and move over to the meat hanging in the corner and cut down a larger chunk than you normally would, knowing Pero eats a lot. “She is still just taking my breast to eat.” You warn him.

He hates that his cock twitches at the thought of his child suckling on your breast and that makes him fluster slightly as he continues washing himself. “Would you mind cutting my hair?” He asks, his hair starting to get in his face.

It is almost instinctual to hiss at him to do it himself, but you need to temper your tongue. “Let me get the stew started and I will.” You nod, bringing the hunk of rabbit meat over to chop up for the meal.

He can see your back tense and he knows you are unhappy with him being here but he has a child and he can’t walk away. Not yet anyway. He sighs and continues washing while you work on preparing dinner.

Once the heavy pot is swung over the fire in the hearth, you cut up the remainder of your loaf of bread. Sighing softly when you realize you will have to bake more. “Did you find the black powder?” You had been swayed by the thought of the prize, but you could not risk your daughter once you realized you had missed your monthly.

Pero scoffs, unable to help himself. “I did. I- I was a fool. I tried to sneak it out from the wall with someone and he - well, he was a snake. I ended up in shackles but William saved me. I left with my life.” he shutters as he remembers the monsters and how he was nearly killed in the fight before he left the wall.

You snort. “You have always been greedy.” You muse. “It is nice to know that some things have not changed.” You move over to the trunk at the end of your bed, behind the screen and the leather straps of the hinge creak. Inside are some clothes that your father had. You wear them at times when you are lonely, but if you know Pero, he has no clean clothes. You also pull out the shears that you use when you are sewing and clothes from the trunk. “Are you ready to cut your hair?”

He nods, knowing it's matted and itchy from not stopping after he arrived back from the east. He desperately wants to feel clean and trim his beard. Despite a harsh life on the road, he actually prefers to be clean. And fed. “Yes, princesa.” He says as you come back over with the shears.

You roll your eyes, but he doesn’t see that since you’ve already taken position behind him. “It looks like you did not cut your hair at all.” You grunt, starting to cut off large chunks of his hair.

Pero sighs, closing his eyes, “I got a haircut at the wall but I wanted to find you when I got on that ship. I didn’t care about my hair or clothes. All I wanted to do was find you.” He confesses softly, thankful you’re behind him so you can’t see his face.

“Why?” You frown. “You hated me, but you wanted to find me? It does not make sense. Did William put you up to this?” Your fingers still, tangling in his hair and you wonder if the man had been sent to you by his friend for some reason. William liked to tease you that Pero was charmed by you, even though he had nothing but contempt for you unless he was fucking you.

Pero flexes his fingers, his heart in his throat as clumps of hair flutter to the floor. “I never hated you.” He confesses, “you annoyed me. Frustrated me with your inability to listen and be fucking sensible. But I never hated you. I liked the way you’d spit at me, made my cock hard. I like the way you don’t take my shit. I- mierda. You know I’m not good at this kind of thing.” He shakes his head and opens his eyes, wishing he could see your face.

You are unsure of what he means. He's not good at talking to women? The women who like the dark looks of him have always been a bolder sort and you would watch him charm and flirt shamelessly when he thought you were a man. You were a woman who liked the look of him. Starting to cut his hair again, you swallow harshly. “I didn’t hate you.” You promise. “You seemed to not want anything to do with me unless you were inside me, so I would make you work for it.”

Pero sighs softly, knowing that your fighting was vicious but he never saw the vitriol in your eyes. “You spit venom at me as soon as I discovered you were a woman. It’s not my fault I came to the stream for a piss onto to find you naked and washing yourself. Princesa, I liked the fact that you stood up for yourself. I liked fighting with you because that was the only time you’d talk to me.” He confesses softly, “you’d speak to the Irishman but you wouldn’t even look at me unless it was to fire scathing words in my direction.”

“You made me nervous.” You admit with a rueful sense of irony. “You were handsome and quick, I thought I would be thrown out of your party. I would have been if those bandits had not attacked.”

Pero shakes his head, “I can’t believe…well, that’s history now. I’m here and you’re here and we have a child. I want to be there for her, princesa. I want to be her father if you’ll allow me the chance.” He declares and you pause cutting his hair, making his heart pound in his chest.

“You might not like being a father.” You remind him practically. “You sell your sword and travel. It is no life for a child.”

“I have sold my sword since I was ten and three years old. I do not wish to do it anymore. I’m old. That’s why I wanted to find you. The battle in the east…I was nearly killed several times. I’m exhausted, princesa. I don’t want to fight anymore.” He confesses wearily, “I have enough coins to see out the rest of my life.” He admits, knowing his satchel is full of coins and nothing else. “Do you wish for me to go?” He asks, not wanting to force himself on you.

Running your fingers through his hair, you sigh. “I will not turn you away.” You promise. “I know you will probably build a house, find a wife even though you say you don’t want one, but you can stay here until you decide.”

He nods, knowing you won’t want him to stay too long and he doesn’t answer you as you start to wash his hair with the soap and water you have next to the tub.

“Winter will be setting in soon.” You tell him softly. “I’ve got to put up the rest of the vegetables from the garden and run my traps.” You grin. “The tanner is supposed to come by and get the latest skins.”

“You are incredible, hermosa.” He compliments you, unable to stop himself. “You have done well on your own, especially with a child.” He says and tilts his head so you can wash his hair. “Whatever you want help with, let me know.” He orders and closes his eyes.

“Rest for now.” You murmur. “I know the journey was a long one. You have to be tired.” You had been exhausted after your own trip home and you had not even gone as far as he had. “Then I will order you around.”

He chuckles, keeping his eyes closed as he relaxes in the tub. He has to cut his beard and shave but for now, he rests knowing he’s found you and he isn’t fighting for his life.

Pero falls asleep in the bath. You’ve heard jokes about it, but you have never seen someone fall asleep until now. He starts to softly snore after you finish washing his hair and you decide to leave him there. Getting up from the side of the tub where you were kneeling and moving over to the fire to stir the stew before you take his clothes outside to soak. The clean ones are near his drying cloth and he will see them when he wakes up.

When he wakes up, the sun has set and the fire is going. The water he’s sitting in is cold and his toes are pruned but he wakes up feeling relaxed and safe. Something he hasn’t felt for so long. He grunts and looks around to find you cradling the baby, the pot of stew cooking and he rubs his cheek.

“There’s going to be a man’s voice.” You murmur softly. “He can be gruff, but he won’t hurt you.” You would never let him hurt her even if he wanted to. “He is your papa. The reason you are here.” Your daughter gurgles at you, waving a small fist and you laugh quietly. “I love you so much.”

Pero listens to you, his heart fluttering, and he bites his lip, wondering how he’s going to be a father to the little girl. He’s never even held a child before. He stands up, cold water dripping off of him, and he reaches for the sheet to dry off before he dresses in the dry clothes you left out for him.

You hear Pero and you look up from where you are sitting on your bed. You can’t see properly beyond the screen, but you can imagine. “Are you dressed?” You ask after a moment, wanting to give him privacy.

He works fast and says, “yes. I’m dressed.” His feet are bare and he slowly pokes his head around the screen. “How is she?” He asks, his voice soft and he’s nervous, hoping you will let him hold his daughter for the first time.

“She’s perfect.” You promise, smiling down at her again when she makes a happy noise. “I have changed her. So she is all dry and she’s in a mood to be entertained.” You look up at Pero to see the longing on his face. “Do you want to sit at the table and hold her while I finish cooking our meal?” You offer.

He nods, eager to hold his child, and he makes his way over to the table. He pulls the chair out and sits down, his heart already pounding in his chest as he looks towards you as you carry the baby over to him. “How - how do I-?” He asks awkwardly, unsure and not wanting to hurt her.

It would be amusing, since this is the first time you’ve ever seen the Spaniard panic, but you know his concern is for your daughter. “Hold her neck with the back of your hand, like this.” You shift her and hold her where she can look up at you. “And hold her bottom”

He nods, his palms a little sweaty as he wipes them on his pants before he holds his hands out and you gently place her in his hands, helping him position her. He inhales sharply when you step back and he gets a good look at his daughter for the first time. He takes a moment and then he’s smiling. “Hola mija, soy tu papá.” He introduces himself softly and she coos, making his heart swell.

There have been plenty of times that you cursed Pero. Especially when you were in labor and pushing her out of your body. Now, you feel like you are about to cry from the simple beauty of watching him with his daughter. “Her name is Oriana.” You tell him softly.

He mouths it at first, watching her squirm slightly before she relaxes into his touch, “Oriana.” He coos, unable to stop himself as he leans down to kiss her forehead. “She’s beautiful. You- you are so strong, princesa. Bringing your daughter into the world alone.” He murmurs in awe, knowing he can’t say his daughter when he wasn’t here.

“I grew her for months, pushed her out of my body and she looks just like you.” You snort, shaking your head. “She gets this fierce scowl on her tiny face that is just like yours. And she has your eyes. Staring through me.”

Pero stares into her eyes, her eyelashes fluttering as she watches him, and he can’t stop smiling but he manages to glance over at you, “I’m sorry. The Tovar breeding is strong.” He confesses, knowing he looks like his father and his father before him. “We made her.” He murmurs in awe.

“We did.” You wish you could remember this moment forever. He looks completely enchanted with his daughter. “On the road to the East, you managed to create a legacy.”

“My only legacy.” He sighs, “I didn’t find the riches I fought my whole life for but I did find enough to provide a decent living. I want to provide for her, give you enough coins that you never have to worry.” He declares without taking his eyes off her.

“We will make sure she is cared for.” You promise, not wanting his coin. Watching him with your daughter has changed your view of him. Making you think that he could put down his sword and raise a family. Or at least raise a daughter. “She will inherit this house, the taxes are paid, and the root cellar is starting to be filled.” You smile. “Having her papa around will only be a boon.”

Pero looks over at you again as he gently cradles her, "you will allow me to stay?" He asks and you nod, "of course. But there are rules." He doesn't argue, knowing you are the one in control right now. He must adhere to your wishes so he can be with his daughter, "rules?"

You look at Pero, your brow arched seriously and you start to list off your terms. “You will not fight, either selling your sword or getting drunk and brawling in the tavern like a barbarian.” You start. “Babies cry, often in the middle of the night. You will not grumble or get agitated with her.” You smirk slightly, “you will have to learn to have patience.” Pero nods, and resists rolling his eyes. “Is that all?” He asks, making you shake your head. “No sex.” You tell him firmly. “There will be no sneaking into my bed and planting another child in my belly. You are here to be Oriana’s father and nothing more.”

Pero clenches his jaw for a second, reminded of your haughty nature but he reels himself in and nods, "of course, princesa." He won't argue, especially when his relationship with his daughter is on the line. "I no longer wish to sell my sword. I am too old. I expected to be killed before now. I nearly died on the wall. I will not mock God by putting my life on the line again."

Somehow, you believe him. You nod and sigh. “There is a sleeping loft, but the space is narrow and you will not fit comfortably.” You can tell him this now that you said there will be no fucking. “You will have to share my bed until we can decide how to proceed.

He doesn’t argue, knowing the effort will be futile when you are as stubborn as he is and he wouldn’t mind being able to help when Oriana cries in the middle of the night. He wants to be there for his daughter. He looks down at her and her eyes are sleepy, a yawn escaping her lips that makes him chuckle, and he’s content to hold her as she sleeps.

“She has been sleeping much of the time.” You explain. “As she grows, she will be more active.” You move over to the pot and stir the stew. “Supper is ready, do you want to put her down?”

He nods, cradling her, and he’s nervous but you watch as he shifts to stand up, keeping her in his hands as he carries her over to the cot and he gently sets her down on the sheet, watching her stretch out before she settles down, still asleep. He can’t help but stare at her, seeing your features in her, and she’s beautiful.

You laddle up big bowls of the stew to put on the table with the basket of bread, knowing he will be starving. “I have some ale, or water to drink.” You offer.

Pero knows he shouldn’t drink, especially around the babe, so he says “water, princesa. Thank you.” He groans at the smell of the stew. It’s the first proper meal he’s had since he left the wall. “It smells delicious.” He murmurs, watching as you sit down with two cups of water in hand.

“There is plenty.” You promise him. “We don’t have to be as stingy with our rations as when we were traveling.” You snort to yourself and push his bowl towards him. “Eat. I know you are hungry.”

He picks up the spoon and digs in. He knows he looks ravenous but he’s been on the road far too long and he hasn’t had a proper meal during his journey to find you. He’s hunted and foraged but didn’t allow himself the luxury of an inn during his quest to find the woman who left him on her horse. “It’s delicious.” He confirms when he finally comes up for air.

It’s impressive that he managed to eat so much in so little time. You’ve barely eaten a portion of yours and you stand to pour him up some more. “I’m glad you like it. Cooking on the road when you stop to rest your horses for the night is never tasty, just filling.”

Pero nods, “exactly. I hunted and cooked to survive. My only goal was to find you.” He reveals, his eyes focused on you as you set his bowl down in front of him.

“Why?” That is the part that confuses you the most. He didn’t hate you - you now know - but Pero is not a man who enjoys socializing with people. His main reason for searching for you has not been very clear, clouded by the knowledge now that he is a father.

He bites his lip as he sets his spoon down in the bowl, "I- I missed you." He confesses softly, "I wanted to find you because...apart from William, you are the only person I've felt a connection to in between the killings and the chaos. I missed you." He states plainly, hoping you don't laugh in his face.

Your eyes widen slightly and you bite your own lip. Trying to rationalize that knowledge from what you had thought you knew about Pero Tovar. “I never thought I would see you again.” You confess, reaching out and touching his hand. “I cried as I rode away from you and William, but I thought it was the best thing for me, for our child.”

He can’t argue with that. “It was. Now that I know the truth, you made the right choice. If you had come with us and been with child during…I would’ve killed every monster, man, and being that came near you.” He promises, his eyes flashing as they meet yours. He would have been feral to protect you and the babe in your belly. He squeezes your hand, “you made the right choice, hermosa.”

“Monster?” You frown and tilt your head, unsure of what he means. “What happened on that wall?” You demand softly.

He closes his eyes as the memories flash past his eyes, “they - when we arrived…we were after the black powder but they attacked. Only William and I survived. They attack every sixty years. The Tao Tei. Fucking beings from beyond and they are vicious. We fought them and nearly died before we - us and an Englishman - made a plan to steal the powder. William, he changed his mind and I knocked him unconscious before we left with the powder. The English bastard betrayed me and left me for dead but I was found and arrested. William - he left to fight in the capital and for helping them win, he was offered the powder but requested my release instead. After I was freed, he decided to stay with his love and I came back to find you.” He tells the story solemnly and slowly, brow furrowed as he relives it.

Your eyes have widened as you try to imagine what he went through, mouth slightly opened. He could have died, probably should have if God had not intervened. “I see what you mean by not testing God.” You murmur slightly, reaching for his hand and squeezing it. “I- I am glad you didn’t not die. Either by the monsters or by a hanging noose.”

Pero inhales deeply, looking down at your hand, “I have learned many things but the biggest lesson was to not let go of something you love and that is why I had to find you. Even if you sent me away. I just wanted to see you again.” He confesses, knowing his gruff nature has been pushed aside to allow him to be vulnerable.

“You love me?” Your brow furrows, but you don’t pull away. “Pero- I- you love me?” You never would have imagined that. You cared for him, but you never imagined that he held a fraction of the affection for you beyond physical that you had for him. “Are you sure? I was a bitch to you.”

He bites his lip before he answers, “and I was a bastard to you. I watched you. Far more than should have been appropriate but you are so strong and - and unbelievably smart. You held your own against men in battle and you never wavered in your fight. You fought me verbally but that made me like you more. You weren’t scared of me. For my entire life…since I was given this scar as a child by my father who was drunk and furious that I stepped between him and my mother when he wanted to hit her…people have been afraid of me but not you. You weren’t scared to fight me and I love that. You are strong and beautiful and - and you’ve proven how incredible you are to bring our daughter into the world alone. I love you. Even if you do not return my feelings, I will always love you.”

“I love you.” You know that there is still so much to be uncertain about in this life, but there are never any guarantees. He never hurt you, he pushed you mentally and verbally, but he never hurt you. He’s not a drunkard, even though you’ve seen him drunk. If you can trust him with your daughter, you can trust him with your heart.

He inhales sharply at your confession, certain that you would reject him and laugh in his face, and he swallows harshly, lifting your hand up to his lips so he can softly place a kiss on the back of it. “Then allow me to be the man I should’ve been from the beginning.” He requests as he lowers your hand.

“What man is that?” You ask, curious to see if there is more to Pero than just the gruff and fierce mercenary. You’ve seen glimpses of it with your daughter but you never expected it towards you.

Pero looks down at the wood grain in the table that your father likely made. “I- I want to be the father I wish I had. I want to be the partner I wish my mother had. A good man. An honest man. I want to be a family man and not sell my sword to survive. When I was in my cot on the wall, I imagined being able to die warm in bed knowing I am leaving behind people who will cry for my death. To know that I loved and was loved.” He admits and his dark eyes glaze over and he avoids looking at you.

“Your daughter will grow up to love you.” You predict softly, your heart clenching and raw for the yearning you hear in his voice. “And I will be right beside you. If that’s what you want.”

Pero’s eyes flick up to you and his mouth drops in shock. He never imagined you’d be by his side, that you’d feel the same way. “I do. So much.” He promises and he can’t help but smile softly. You stand up and walk around the table, shifting to sit in his lap and you lean in to nudge your nose against his. He reaches up to cup your cheek and you lean closer, pressing your lips to his. His heart is pounding in his chest and he tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

You have just given him rules and you know that you will break them. You want to break them. They were for when you thought he didn’t love you and only wanted your body for release. Sinking your fingers into his hair, you moan softly into his mouth, not even able to remember if you’ve ever kissed before.

Pero has never kissed you and his mouth is gentle before he turns ravenous, his tongue sliding into your mouth. He moans into your mouth when you eagerly slide your tongue against his and he loves the hungry you return. His cock twitches in his pants but he doesn’t push for more, content to kiss you.

Eventually, you pull away, gasping for air as you stare at him. Chest heaving and your core is soaked because of how sexy that kiss is, how your entire body responds to Pero. Apparently you’ve both been fools but you don’t want to be anymore. “I have changed my mind.” You hum quietly. “I want to have you between my thighs when we go to bed tonight.”

Pero frowns at you, “are you sure?” He doesn’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do. You nod and he groans, his hand sliding from your waist to your ass, “I missed you and I missed your body. Imagined you several times with my fist around my cock.” He confesses, starting to harden beneath you.

“I have not taken anyone into my bed since you.” You admit, biting your lip. “Could you- can it be a little more gentle than normal?” You ask softly. “Since I have birthed our daughter, I do not know how I-“ you break off, embarrassed.

He slides his hand back up to your waist, “of course. I do not wish to take you like I would. I want to show you how I feel about you, hermosa.” He murmurs, tilting his head to press a soft kiss to your jaw.

“Finish your food.” You kiss his lips and smirk slightly. “We will go to bed early so we have plenty of time before our daughter wakes up.”

He nods and you shift to move away but he keeps his arm around your waist. “Stay here, princesa. I want to hold you.” He demands, picking up his spoon and he starts to eat, even faster than before in his eagerness to have you again.

You hum and wrap yourself around him. “You always eat with a hunger I admire.” You chuckle. “Like someone is going to steal it if you look away.”

Pero snorts after he finishes his bite, “because my entire life has been someone attempting to steal food from me. I’ve had to fight for everything I have.” He confesses, “perhaps…being in your home will allow me to relax and enjoy my food.” He admits and takes another bite, slower than before.

“We will have to work for our food, but the village is peaceful. As long as the garden is prosperous and the hunting good, we will not be hungry.” You promise. Your life has been different from his, you have not had to fight for survival. “But if you are to stay, then this will be your home as well.”

Pero caresses your back, “I understand. I know that we will still struggle but I will never let you go hungry. I’ll work hard to provide a life for you and our daughter.” He promises and leans in to nudge his nose with yours, his empty bowl pushed aside as he focuses on you.

You smile and caress his cheek, your fingers running through the thick beard he hasn’t trimmed yet. “Do you want to bank the fire and I will get ready for bed?”

He nods, leaning in to kiss your chin before you shift off his lap. He takes the bowl and carries it over to the bucket of water to rinse it. “Go get ready for bed, hermosa.” He orders and he walks over to the fire to handle it before he retires to your bed for the night. He takes his time and gives you some space, his stomach twisting and he’s nervous. This isn’t some romp under some blankets in the middle of nowhere. This is your home. Your bed. This is love and comfort.

You check Oriana and tuck her in a little more snuggly, “goodnight sweetheart.” You whisper before you start to undress. You untie your skirt and let it drop before you step out of it and hang it on a peg that had been driven onto the wall to hang your clothes. You wonder if Pero will be disappointed in your cunt now that you’ve given birth. It’s not like you had talked to many about the intimacies in a marriage. Waiting for him after you pull off your shift and slide under the covers nude.

He walks behind the screen to find you under the sheets and his heart is pounding in his chest. He’s nervous and that’s an unusual emotion for Tovar. He reaches for his shirt, pulling it over his head before he walks over to the bed. He doesn’t pull the covers away and he shifts to kneel on the bed above you. “You are so beautiful.” He murmurs, leaning in to kiss you softly.

You accept his kiss and his praise, your cheeks heating up. “It feels so strange we are not clawing at each other.” You admit with a sheepish grin when he pulls back, your hand sliding down his chest. “But I feel like this will be special for us.”

Pero smiles and he twitches in his pants, his cock hardening, “I think so too. I want it to be.” He murmurs and leans in to kiss you again as he shifts to lay down beside you. “I want you, hermosa. I want you to be mine. I always wanted you to be mine.” His hand slides along your side.

“I want that too.” You promise, reaching for the laces on his breeches. “I want you to be mine too. We will have and protect each other. Love each other. Pleasure each other.”

Pero pulls the cover down and he inhales sharply at the sight of your body. He groans and leans in to kiss you, kissing along your neck, and he caresses your waist, sliding his hand up until he’s cupping your breast.

This is so much different from the hurried, rough fucks you had while you were traveling together. His touch is gentle, like he has all the time in the world. You lean into the kiss, moaning softly.

He slides his tongue against yours, his cock aching in his breeches as you reach in to take it out and he groans, loving the way your fingers feel wrapped around his cock. “Princesa.” He whines and pushes your hand away, “let me taste you. I’ve never tasted you.”

You smirk slightly and squeeze him softly. Humming when you feel him twitch in your hand. “You know how?” You ask playfully, throwing him a doubtful look. “Eating a cunt isn’t like eating a bowl of stew.”

He smirks, “my first lover. She was a whore that my friend paid for. She spent three days with me. Took my innocence and showed me how to pleasure a woman. She showed me how to taste a woman.” He confesses as he pushes your hand away and he kisses down your stomach as he shifts to lay between your legs.

You bite your lip and look down between your thighs. “You look good there.” You moan, spreading your legs wider and wait to feel his tongue against your cunt. For all your bravado, you’ve never had a man do this for you.

His beard is long and brushes your thighs as he pushes them further apart to accommodate his broad shoulders. He leans in, his dark eyes focused on you as he parts your folds with his thumbs and slides his tongue through your soaking slit. He groans as the taste of your tangy arousal hits his tastebuds and he flicks the tip of his tongue over your clit.

Your eyes close and your head flops back down onto the pillow. “Pero.” You moan softly, not wanting to wake the baby, but you can be louder than a whisper now that you aren’t surrounded by sleeping men. “Oh fuck.”

He loves hearing your moan and it spurs him on. He slides his hands to your thighs, pushing them further back as he laps at your cunt, his nose nestled into the curls above your clit that he sucks on, making your chest heave.

The small cottage is still pretty well lit from the banked fire, the coals giving the open space a cozy glow that radiates beyond the screen. The door is barred and the baby is asleep. It’s the perfect moment and your own hands cup your breasts tenderly, careful not to squeeze so you don’t cover yourself in milk. They are bigger than the last time he had seen them.

He’s determined to show you how he feels about you, to show you that the venom he spat your way was his defense and not your fault. He wants to make you feel loved so he pushes his tongue deep and nudges your clit with his nose, starved for your whimpers and moans as the cabin glows around him.

Your hands slide down and tangle into his hair, rocking your hips up in pleasure. “Pero, oh god.” You whine. “This is- it is fantastic.”

He’s pleased you are enjoying his pleasure and he groans, his hard cock pressing into the mattress and he hisses at the way you tug on his freshly cut hair. He buries his face in your cunt, not caring about the need to breathe when his aim is to make you fall apart for him.

The pleasure coiling in your belly suddenly snaps. It’s so different from when he is pounding into you and making your knees weak with the force of his thrusts. It’s still powerful, making your hips rock up and your throaty cry rips from your throat. “Pero!”

He loves the way you cry out for him, making his cock throb, and he hisses when you squeeze his head between your thighs. He loves it. He loves you. He moans and works you through it until your grip loosens and you relax beneath him. “So beautiful.” He murmurs, kissing along your thighs as you inhale deeply.

Your body is humming pleasantly and you would want to go to sleep any other time, but you miss the feeling of him inside you. “Come here.” You tug on his hair lightly and kiss his lips, not caring that you can taste yourself on them. “I want-“ you push him away and onto his back. “Let me ride you this time.”

He looks up at you as you straddle him and he’s in awe of you. You’re so strong, so capable. You’ve survived on your own without him, giving birth and having your daughter, and he is honored that you’re not pushing him away. He loves you. His hands caress your waist as you settle on top of him, his cock pressed against your pelvis as you lean down to kiss him.

Your lips are pressed to his, moaning softly as you reach between you and wrap your fingers around his cock as you start to lift your hips. You want to keep kissing him, never want to stop, as you line him up and start to slowly take him inside you. His groan being pushed into your mouth is sexy and you give it right back to him.

He groans into your mouth again as you sink down onto his cock, enveloping his cock in your warmth and he swears he has come home. Gone is the frantic fuck paired with hissed insults and in its place is soft love making and murmured words of affection. He wants this. He wants you.

There is a moment where you just need to feel him, stretching you out. It’s not painful, but it has been a long time since you’ve felt this particular stretch and it’s wonderful. Your eyes flutter closed again and you murmur his name.

He kisses your chin as you take a moment before you start to rock on top of him. Your body is hot pressing against his skin and he’s missed you so much. So many lonely nights during his travels to find you have led him to right now and he’s so grateful he found you. “Amor.” He murmurs, “you feel so good.”

“I love you.” You moan softly. “I love you Pero.” Your hands are braced on his chest and you slowly roll your hips, loving how deep he is in this position. “I want you to stay with me. I used to dream of it, you knowing about Oriana and being happy to be a father. Settled and content.” You admit softly. “That you loved me and now you are here.”

“I’m here.” He promises roughly, “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere, princesa. I’m here for you and our daughter. I love you. So much.” He vows hoarsely as he lets you take what you want from him.

You whimper and roll your hips. Leaning down and pressing a kiss to his lip again and moaning against them when he twitches inside you. “You are here.” You pant, nodding as you clench around him.

He caresses your back, “and I’m staying.” He promises, his hands sliding lower to squeeze your ass and he loves the way you moan again when he twitches inside you. “Take what you need, princesa. I’m yours.” He vows softly.

You love how gentle he is. This is a man who never wanted you to take charge of anything and yet he is letting you control his pleasure. “I will.” You promise, kissing him again and sitting up to start bouncing on his cock again.

He watches you in awe, your breasts bouncing as you ride him and his hands caress every inch of skin he can reach. His toes curl when you clench around him and he swears his heart is about to beat out of his chest.

You lean back, closing your eyes and moaning softly. “Fuck.” You whimper after you grind down on him even more. “You- god, you have such a good cock. Every time it feels so fucking good.”

You rest your hands on his knees and his dark eyes are black as he watches you, his gaze drifting down to watch where he disappears inside of you. “It’s your cunt. Tight and wet and hot.” He groans, his fingers digging into your hips.

“You have fucked so many others.” You know he has not been a celibate man. “I- you have been my only lover.” You confess breathlessly. “I do not know why I didn’t bleed our first time.”

He freezes under you, his eyes widening, “I was your first? And I- mierda. I’m a bastard.” He curses himself with a hiss, “I should’ve - why didn’t you say anything?” He demands to know, stopping your movements above him.

“Because I wanted you.” You admit, embarrassed because he looks so upset. “I did not think it would matter. You were not marrying me, and I did not want to give you more to boast about.”

He grips you and turns swiftly so you are beneath him, “I wouldn’t have fucked you in the middle of a forest against a tree if I knew it was your first time. I am many things but I am not an animal, hermosa. You should’ve told me. I would’ve - well, I probably wouldn’t have touched you. I didn’t deserve you. I still don’t. Let me show you how I should’ve touched you that first time.” He begs softly, nudging his nose against yours as he rests his weight on his elbows.

“I didn’t mind.” You remind him, reaching up and stroking his hair covered cheek. “It was our beginning, no matter how you would change it, I would not.” You tell him. “Because if you hadn’t touched me, our daughter wouldn’t be laying in her cradle. But show me how you would have taken me.”

He sighs, knowing he can’t change the past but he feels awful for how roughly he took your innocence. He presses his lips to yours as he starts to move, slowly rocking his hips to show you how he would’ve taken you. His lips are soft and his tongue caresses yours, his body covering yours as he makes love to you.

The pace is even slower than the one you set when you were riding him. Your legs hitch up onto his hips and you moan into his mouth. It’s almost torturous as his cock drags against your walls. Teasing you.

He groans, loving the way you feel beneath him, naked for the first time ever. "Hermosa, mi amor, you feel - it's like nothing I've ever experienced before." He murmurs, kissing along your jaw as he rocks into you.

“You- I love you.” You pant breathless, unable to think of anything else while he slowly breaks you apart. If the rough and harsh pace had satisfied you, this is making you melt into a puddle on the bed. Your cunt gushing around him every time he pushes slowly into your body.

He groans as he presses kisses to your jaw until he pauses, "I love you." He murmurs and he rocks into you. He grips your thigh and pushes it higher, rocking into you, and he hisses when you clench around him. "That's it, hermosa. Want to feel you fall apart for me."

You whine, nodding as he continues to push you closer with every thrust of his hips. Holding you close and making your body cry for that burst of pleasure until it happens. Your squeal is cut short, slapping your hand over your mouth so you don’t wake the baby as you come apart on his cock. 

He smothers your moan with his mouth after he quickly pulls his hand away from your lips so he can taste your cries against his tongue. You clamp down on his cock and he groans into your mouth, his cock twitching inside you as he gets closer. It’s been far too long without your body beneath his and paired with the newly confessed emotions between you, he’s closer than he’d usually be. He pants, his lips hovering against yours as he starts to feel his stomach clenching. He doesn’t know what you want so he pulls free of your warm cunt, his cock throbbing as he paints your mound and lower stomach with streaks of his hot seed.

You whimper, body shaking as he covers you in his seed. Thankful that he had been conscious of the possibility of getting you pregnant again. You hadn’t been thinking although the midwife had warned you that it was easy to do when you are nursing. You had dismissed the information because you hadn’t expected to see Pero again. “I love you.” You murmur softly as he pumps himself of the last drops.

He is cautious to not spread his seed over your skin as he leans in to kiss you, his heart thumping in his chest. “Te amo, princesa.” He exhales, shifting to lay beside you and he wraps his arm around you to pull you into his side. “We shall raise our daughter in love and warmth.” He promises, “and I will always protect you both.”

You know he will keep that promise. Pero Tovar has been many things. A liar, a thief and a killer, but now he is a father. He had done the impossible by surviving China and finding you. The rest of your lives will be much easier than that. Especially since neither one of you truly hates the other. It was just the aggressive form of love.

[nellielsss]

｡･ﾟﾟ･ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏʏ ɪꜱ ᴍɪɴᴇ!

╰┈➤ I can't wait to try him... ✮✮✮

Summary: Just a little songfic inspired by The Boy is Mine by Ariana Grande. I figured it was about time that the tables were turned & the reader got to make a mess! However will these boys react? Includes: Toji Fushiguro, Satoru Gojo, Kento Nanami x Yandere!reader CW: murder, weapons, derogatory/degrading language (reader is severely flawed), allusions to sex

☆○o 𝙏𝙤𝙟𝙞 𝙁𝙪𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙪𝙧𝙤 ༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

╰┈➤ It's no secret that your man was a man of charm and persuasion. Although his demeanor was considerably unapproachable and intimidating, he still knew his way around a conversation (he had to if he wanted to haggle the local vendors). It's also no secret that he was an adonis. A wide, tapered back that extended outwards to a pair of broad shoulders, biceps bigger than your head, and a face that could make Narcissus himself do a double-take, he was practically walking sex! Not to mention those 9 inches he was packing!

It's not like it was his fault that his body was so built; those muscles were a result of his years of working out! If he wanted to make as much money from his missions as possible, he'd need his strength to be at its peak. It also wasn't his fault that god blessed him with a perfect face with perfect skin (save for the scar) & a perfect bone structure.

If two + two = four, each two standing for the aforementioned attributes, then four meant that there was a lot of unwanted attention thrown his way. Men, women, non-binary folk and everyone in between threw a couple of flirty glances and compliments his way every now and then. It seemed like he raised the pheromones of the places he was in: bars, the grocery store; hell, even on the street there would be a couple of people trying to pick him up!

"Baby, don't even pay 'em a penny of your time," he muttered into your ear after a girl tried to get his number at a bar. "They don't compare to you; not even a little. Fuck would I do without this ass, eh?" he asked with a grin, making you smile a little. "Atta girl." If he wasn't so reserved and committed to his gal, you, then he would've eaten that shit up. But he made a vow to be more responsible and stay loyal to you, and he'd kill himself before he broke that vow. He even bought you a promise ring, for fuck's sake (he also had an engagement ring in mind for when the time was right)! So, to any sane person, things should've been peachy keen...

... if you were sane, that is.

Toji knew all about your mental state. He knew that you had a few issues, but he didn't care; he wasn't a fucking hypocrite for crying out loud. He had a few screws loose himself, so he didn't bat an eye when you told him about how many you had loose. The two of you made an excellent couple anyways, and he wasn't stupid enough to throw away a good thing. So, he brushed over it and decided to move on with life.

If only he knew how many friends he'd lose along the way.

The most recent "departure" was the one friend he'd made in high school (before he was forced to drop out by his family). One of the only female friends he'd made during his life, she was the tomboy-type who had no trouble making friends with guys. She was a total delinquent; she even rocked the long skirt and the mask back in high school, and she also dropped out of high school after he did for setting fires behind the school. Leather jackets, piercings, the whole nine yards. She was like a walking Mötley Crüe song.

But even walking rock-and-roll songs could catch feelings. Unluckily for her, it was high time that she kicked the bucket and made way for you. The only person who deserved Toji's attention was you. You were the one who kept him warm every night; you were the one who took his dick like no other; you were the one with the promise ring on your finger, not that bitch.

Killing her was quite simple. Although she was tough as nails, you were the one who actually had experience with killing people. All you had to do was sneak into her place at night and stab her. Then, you'd write a flimsy little note and make it seem like she fled the country; it was quite plausible for a chick like her.

┆ . "Hello? Who's there?" the chick's voice asked when she heard a few thumps in the other room. She was in the kitchen drinking a beer and listening to the radio (could she not afford a TV? how sad). She had a plate of Korean fried chicken on the counter as well, and the only light illuminating the area was the flimsy lightbulb above her head.

Her head immediately snapped in the direction of the noise she'd heard, and she grabbed a switchblade from the linoleum countertop. She took a few steps forward, the sound of the radio being drowned out by her heartbeat.

Another noise from the opposite direction, this time to her left. "Alright, who the fuck's fuckin' with me? I swear, Toji, if that's you-"

"Don't even say his fucking name, whore." She felt something grab her neck from behind, effectively choking her. The hand then pressed a nerve that stopped her from moving, rendering her frozen in place. She recognized that voice, but she couldn't believe it; was that girl seriously in her home...? She turned her eyes to the best of her ability, trying to catch a glimpse to confirm her suspicions. Her eyes widened when she realized who it was, being met by Toji's girlfriend's pretty face which was now marred by a look of sheer venom and malice.

"P-please, can't we talk this out?-"

"It's too late to beg. You shouldn't have come back into his life; you shouldn't have even met him to begin with." The last thing she saw before she felt something stab her was a sick, twisted grin on her face, widening as the knife sunk further and further into her tattooed skin.

The knife left her side and then sunk back into her neck. A snap was the last thing she heard before her eyes went shut.

It definitely wasn't the last thing you heard, though; the knife sunk back into her neck again, then again, and again, and again, again, again, again, again, all the way until her neck practically ripped in two.

The plan to make a smooth escape was a little behind schedule considering all the blood splatters that needed cleaning on the linoleum flooring, but it was nothing a little bleach couldn't fix.

"Toji did tell me I looked good in red once," you sighed, dragging some blood down your face with a lovesick grin as the finishing touch.

You could rival Elizabeth Bathory with the amount of blood that was on you and the black sweater you chose to wear for the killing. Ah, it's not like that sweater was anything too important or sentimental to you; you always made sure not to wear anything nice when murdering a target of yours.

"Toji, Toji, Toji Toji Tojiiiii," you hummed to yourself, taking your gloves off and throwing them aside. You decided to put on a new pair of disposable gloves in order to clean the crime scene, considering how soaked the others were with the amount of blood that was in them. Making the mess an even bigger mess wasn't on your agenda for the night.

"The boy is mine... I can't wait to try him... let's get intertwined... the stars they've aligned," you hummed to yourself, "the boy... is... mine!"

Just as you'd started to get into the swing of things and dance around the kitchen of your victim, cleaning up the mess in your own sick & twisted way, that little fantasy of yours was broken by the sound of the door opening. Your head snapped in the direction of the sound, your blood running cold at the thought of being caught in such a predicament. You reached out to grab a nearby knife, already making a plan in your head. You'd killed a few other people who walked in on your murders, so it really wasn't anything new to you.

But those people weren't your boyfriend.

"Yoohoo, anybody home?" He asked in that deliciously deep & sarcastic voice of his. "I thought I oughta bring you that shirt you asked for. Y'know, the ACDC one?-"

When he turned his head to the side and saw you, his girlfriend, cleaning up a spilled pool of blood that belonged to his friend, he also froze. The two of you stared at one another, each completely bewildered by the other. Here was his sweet, amazing, practically angelic girlfriend all covered in blood & standing over his now dead friend's body. And at the same time, here was your boyfriend standing in the doorway, looking at you as you cleaned up a particularly messy crime scene.

Oh, right, your boyfriend just walked in on you in the middle of your crime scene.

He was a witness to his friend's murder, as well as your own crimes.

"No... it's- it's..." you stuttered, tears welling up as you backed away from the dead body as if that'd make it any better for you.

One step, two steps, three steps of your boyfriend's boots echoed throughout the kitchen as he walked closer to you.

"D-Don't look at me, don't... don't look at me, Toji! You can't see me like this! I'm a monster-" as your eyes were closed out of fear and shame, you felt two fingers grip your chin surprisingly gently. You opened your eyes slowly, your boyfriend forcing you to look at him.

"Look at me, sweetheart," he murmured with a soothing undercurrent of love. "Geez, look at you... you're all covered in this sticky, disgusting blood. That's no look for a pretty girl like you, is it?"

You stayed silent, and he cocked his head to the side, almost amused by how shy you were being in this scenario. "Fine. If you wanna stay silent, then that's fine with me. But do you really think you oughta be embarrassed right now? Like I'd judge ya for anything... Do you remember when we first met, and I told you that I'd never, ever judge you in any circumstances? I'm a man who stays true to my word, (Y/N). Even if you were covered in the blood of four different people, my love for you's never gonna waver."

You looked at him with more confusion than anything. Was he being serious right now? Weren't you a monster for killing one of his friends? "I'm confused..." you finally started, "are you not... disgusted with me? Aren't I a monster? I just- I just killed one of your friends!" you exclaimed.

Toji's eyebrows merely raised in amusement. "I'm a man who stays true to my word, (Y/N)," he said once more. "I ain't goin' back on it, baby. Besides, it's not like I was friends with anyone other than Shiu to begin with--and he's my manager! She was pissin' me off anyway. She had the audacity to challenge me to a drinking contest and then decided to puke all over the new pants you bought me."

Your eye twitched when he brought up that knowledge.

"Doesn't she know that alcohol doesn't affect a big guy like me?" he asked rhetorically, shaking his head out of amusement. "You did me a favor getting her off my back."

"So, you're really okay with what I did?" you asked once more. Toji shook his head and cupped your cheek gently with his calloused fingers.

"Do I gotta repeat myself thrice?"

"N-No, you don't gotta..." you trailed off.

"Good." He stood up, offering you a hand to help you up as well. "Y'know, I really didn't expect you to be such a little psychopath. I mean, you're all cute n' shit with your little mini skirts and your heels that I still don't know how you walk in. If I'd known you looked so hot covered in other people's blood, I would've taken you along with me on my missions."

You blushed profusely at all his little words and praises, and he cooed (again, out of amusement). "Look at you, all shy over a couple compliments thrown your way. You really are just a sweet thing underneath all that blood, aren't you?"

"Stop it, stop it!" You whined, swatting his hand away when he pinched your cheek.

In response, he put his hands up and chuckled again. "Whatever my girl wants, my girl gets. Now, would you like some help with cleaning this mess up, or would you rather I just bend you over this counter n' eat you out?"

You looked at him again, yet again out of confusion and bewilderment. "You wanna have sex with me... when I'm covered in blood, and in my own crime scene?" You asked, shrinking away from his touch.

"'Course I do; you look fuckin' sexy baby. Shit gets my dick hard seeing you so protective over me... I oughta reward you for havin' my back, anyway."

He reached out again, only for you to shrink away even further from his touch, making him click his tongue and sigh. "I think I'll pass," you muttered, throwing him a side-eye as well.

"The fuck are you side-eyeing me for? You're the one who killed a girl."

*°:⋆ₓₒ 𝙎𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙪 𝙂𝙤𝙟𝙤 ˱ 𓈒 𓈊 ┈ 𓈒 ˲

╰┈➤ Satoru Gojo was nothing short of a dreamboat, and you knew what you were getting into when you said "yes" to the first date. From the moment he picked you up wearing a crisp light blue button-up, slacks, and his silver-blue porsche, you knew he was gonna be one silver-tongued prince charming.

Not only was he sweet on the first date, but he was also sweet on the second, third, fourth--hell, even on your second anniversary, when he asked you to move in with him in his penthouse located in the heart of Ginza, you swore your knees buckled from underneath you and not because of the blue gown that he'd bought you after seeing it on your computer screen all those nights ago.

He was like a sweet saccharine fantasy, a delicious daydream which you never wanted to wake up from. His soft, snow-white hair; his incredibly vibrant blue eyes which seemed to have specks of every color in the galaxy and then some with flecks of purple, cerulean, indigo, and even a milky way here and there; his towering stature and lean muscles--god, you could go on and on about how dreamy he was! And the sex? Good god, he was a man who knew how to put it down.

The sweet little nicknames he had for you only furthered your infatuation for him: "hey there, sweet cheeks," was one rather childish one that he reserved for you.

"Lookin' good, princess," was probably the most fitting one that he had for you. It was his way of reminding you of how good he'd always treat you, how he'd always put you first above all else. After all, he used that name when he bought you a diamond tennis bracelet for your half-birthday.

While most people would've been worried that he was love-bombing you, you knew deep down that you had absolutely nothing to worry about!

Even his best friend, Suguru Geto, said as such at one of the many parties he threw.

After one of Satoru's weird little groupies made a snide remark about how he gave that treatment to anyone who would open their legs for him, he pulled you aside with one tattooed hand (he has tats IMO) and helped you lighten your mood. "Don't even listen to that chick, (Y/N), you have absolutely nothing to worry about. I haven't seen him look at anyone like that since, well, ever if I'm being honest--and I've known the man since grade school," the sorcerer said.

"You really think so?" You asked, a light smile gracing your features.

"I've been his best friend since we've both become sorcerers, (Y/N). I've seen him go through everything, even that phase when he decided to wear his hair like a Backstreet Boy for a day." now that was a joke that really brought that light back to your face.

"Okay, okay, I don't think I need that image in my head," you replied, waving your hands in front of you. He simply smiled at you and patted your shoulder.

"Trust me, you don't. Now go find your boyfriend before he throws a fit; you know how he gets."

You had nothing to worry about when it came to your relationship--even his vigilant best friend thought so. But that lack of worry only extended to your boyfriend, not the countless groupies that threw themselves at him.

How many had you killed by now? 6? 7? Eh, you lost count by the time it reached double digits.

┆ . At one of his many parties that he threw on his yacht in the harbor, yet another groupie decided to take a chance on the already-taken sorcerer/heir of the Gojo clan, none other than your boyfriend of 3 and a half years, Satoru. By then, you'd disregarded who any of the groupies were, only knowing them by hair color (if they dyed it some stupid color like pink or purple) or did something obscene to your boyfriend.

But that night at his summer party, a purple-haired groupie took it way too far: when you were returning from the bar with Satoru's favorite drink in hand, you saw her accidentally "trip" and fall into your boyfriend's lap. The hand holding your drink-of-choice was gripping your glass so tightly that it shattered in your hand, but the blaring music was loud enough to hide it.

"Whoopsie!" the girl said with fake-sincerity, giggling as she looked at her friends who obviously put her up to this shit.

Satoru, being the amazing boyfriend he was, pushed the girl off of his lap and looked rather annoyed at what she'd done: "hands off the merchandise! This seat's already taken."

The girl threw her hands up and gave him a fake apology, obviously not serious about it: "sorryyy, I tripped on my heels! You know how these things are."

But your brain didn't register it; it merely registered the sounds of the blood rushing through your body and your heartbeat's thumping. Your breathing quickened, and everything in your world was reduced to that stupid bitch and her stupid giggles and her stupid hair color.

Who the fuck does she think she is? She's not the one who's already been living with Satoru for over a year now. Her fake nails, her fake hair--she probably doesn't even want Satoru and instead wants some notoriety for being his groupie.

She shouldn't get to live; stupid whores like her shouldn't be alive to begin with.

She needs to know her place. I wonder how fast I can throw this drink at her head? Maybe it'll kill her if I'm hard enough-

"Yo, (Y/N)!" Satoru's voice said once he saw you a few feet away. "C'mere princess; I got this seat nice and ready for ya!" he said with a grin, patting his lap. You happily obliged, bounding over like a little puppy who was called by their owner for a tasty treat.

"Isn't she the cutest thing?" Shoko Ieiri asked her friend who nodded in agreement.

"Sato, baby, here's the drink you asked for," you said, your voice dripping with adoration like the sweetest ambrosia from the Garden of Eden. "Mine... spilled, sadly, but I can just get another one."

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted that stupid whore trotting off down a hallway, headed to a bathroom by herself. An idea formed inside of your head, and your eyes narrowed and zeroed in on her fake purple hair.

"(Y/N), baby, look at me! This is my party!" Satoru protested, suddenly bringing your attention back to him with a cute little pout on his face.

"You don't mind if I go and use the ladies room? I'll be back before you know it," you asked with the subtlest croon you could muster up without bordering on corny.

"But, baby-"

"It's an emergency. You know how us girls get," you said with a smile, making Satoru relent reluctantly.

"Fine, fine... go on ahead, but don't get too distracted on your way there. Your boyfriend wants some attention," he muttered, placing a small kiss on your neck before letting you go. You gave him a small kiss on the forehead and carded through his snow-like hair, getting right up off his lap and going in the same direction as that groupie.

Your Christian Dior heels tapped on the hardwood floors of the yacht, taking you down one of the hallways that seemed to go on for forever. Coincidentally, this was also the same hallway that led to your spare room; the one you used whenever you were mad at Satoru for whatever reason and felt like sleeping in another bed. You made sure to step as quietly as possible so as to not alert the girl of your presence; however, she made hers known by the sound of her shrill laughter coming from the bathroom.

"The boy is mine... I can't wait to try him," she sang, clearly oblivious of the fear and rage coursing through your body. Was she seriously singing that fucking song right now, acting as if Satoru wasn't in a committed relationship?? Oh, she needed to be reminded of her place.

Like a soundless sabertooth, you stalked up to the door and opened it, acting as though you were merely freshening up in the bathroom. You took your lip gloss out of the bag that your boyfriend bought you on one of your many outings, swiping it over your lips.

"Oh, you're Satoru's girlfriend, right?" the chick asked once she recognized you. She pointed an acrylic at you, drawing your attention. "Hey, don't ignore me! It's not like you're anything special anyway."

"What do you mean?" you asked, deciding to provoke the beast yourself.

"Satoru swipes through relationships like it's nobody's business!"

"Groupies don't count as relationships."

"Just you wait. He's gonna abandon you for someone way hotter and way less annoying than you. I mean, I don't even know what the fuck he sees in you!" she exclaimed. "You're a 3 at best."

The chick continued to ramble on and on about how Satoru could do way better than you, and it was high time that she shut the fuck up already.

You grabbed the martini glass she was holding, wrenching it easily out of her hands, and you broke it on the marble countertop. You then took the sharp, pointy end and drew a deep, jagged cut on her neck with it, the tendons practically ripping in half with the intensity of your cut. She grabbed her neck and put two hands over the gash, gasping and breathing for air, only to have her hands cut by the glass. You stabbed her over and over again, screaming at her to "SHUT UP!" and "DIE ALREADY!!" You pushed her onto the ground and mounted her hips, driving the broken glass further in until her head disconnected from her body.

By the time you were finished with her dead body, she was practically unrecognizable. One of her eyes was open (the other was stabbed out), her head was severed, and the tendons in her neck were exposed. You didn't mean to get so carried away, but you let it happen anyway.

With a swipe to the eyebrow, you let out a "whew," only to realize that you had this huge mess to clean up. It's not every day that you manage to sever a head, after all.

"Nothing a little bleach can't deal with."

You took out the trusty bottle of bleach that you hid underneath the counter (in case of emergencies) and started unscrewing the cap. Just as you did that, though, you heard Satoru's whiny voice from behind the door calling out for you. "(Y/N)! (Y/N)! Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

Normally, you would've entertained him, but right now you were standing over a dead body, your party dress covered in blood with a bottle of bleach in one of your hands and a broken glass in the other. If he were to see you right now, everything you've worked for would've been for nothing. All those dead bodies thrown into dumpsters, all those weapons that you kept hidden--it would've amounted to absolutely nothing! Your perfect life with your perfect boyfriend and your perfect friends would all go to shit, all because you couldn't control yourself around a fucking groupie with too many bad dyejobs for her own good.

"(Y/N), I'm coming in!" he said once more. He managed to yank the door open with his bare hands, and he couldn't have prepared himself for the sight in front of him.

There you were, his pretty little princess, standing over the dead body of one of his partygoers. His six eyes took in everything almost immediately: he noted the bottle of bleach, the sheer amount of blood that was on you, and just how mangled that corpse was. You looked down at the floor and you shut your eyes as tight as you possibly could, desperately hoping that it wasn't him, that it wasn't your amazing boyfriend who did nothing wrong.

"I-I'm sorry, I made a mess," you mumbled, tears flowing down your face and mixing with the metallic blood. He stayed longer than you thought was necessary, and you just braced for the inevitable look of disgust followed by the demand that you leave.

His footsteps echoed on the marble flooring and he crouched down to your level, taking his glasses off and looking at you.

"Just- I'll just get out of your hair after I clean this up-"

"Don't bother, princess. I'll just have one of my maids clean it up. A spoiled little thing like you shouldn't have to inhale all the bleach smell," he said with a chuckle. "My princess shouldn't even have to lift a finger in the first place."

You stopped looking at the floor, your head craning up slowly and looking at your boyfriend out of sheer confusion. "I don't- I don't understand..."

"What's not to understand?" he asked with a cocked head. "My girl's not gonna hold a single mop, not while she's with me."

"But... I just killed someone... aren't you afraid of me? Aren't you disgusted?"

He shrugged, his blue eyes remaining on you. "You think I'm gonna break up with you over some meaningless groupie? Don't be ridiculous, sweet cheeks. Now, if you'd somehow managed to kill someone like Shoko or Suguru, then I'd have a problem, although I am quite impressed that you managed to cut her head off with a martini glass... C'mon, let's get you out of these clothes and into something nicer. We can't have my guests wondering why my date's all red and sticky, hmmm?"

You said nothing, instead following his lead as he snuck you into another room. He slipped your ruined party dress off, then he turned on the faucet and grabbed a hand towel, washing off all the blood that was on your face and your body.

"I still just can't believe that you'd accept this. Aren't you scared of me?" You asked once more, finally speaking up as he washed the blood off your soft skin.

"Hell nah, baby. You forget you're dating the strongest guy in all the land," he said with a sly wink. "Plus, I think it's cute; you're all protective over me. Who would've known that you had bark and bite?"

"You're such a freak, Satoru," you said with comically narrowed eyes. "I bet you find that shit hot, you narcissist."

Satoru merely laughed and shook his head. "You know me too well."

*:..｡o○ 𝙆𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙉𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙞 ∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐒

╰┈➤ If there was one thing you hated more than anything, it was the widely accepted fact that having a work wife was considered the norm, especially in an office where people spent a good 9 hours a day typing away at their computers and drinking for another extra hour afterwards. Kento Nanami was the exception to the latter, though. You knew you were a lucky girl when your sweet, sweet boyfriend Kento told you on the third date that he was a homebody, and how he'd much rather just lie in bed with his lover than go out for drinks.

"I'm not really the extroverted type, if I'm being honest," the deliciously handsome blonde man said after taking a sip of his wine. "I'd much rather spend the night watching a movie or making dinner for my loved ones. I'm actually quite the cook, if you'd be interested in trying out some of my dishes. I don't even know why I decided to try out dating in the first place; it actually makes me quite nervous."

"I would love to try some of those meals out, but I think that we should try out some of your recipes later. It sounds like a fun date idea regardless! Maybe you could even teach me how to make those amazing meals? Perhaps the ones that you hold close to your heart? And, honestly, I'm not the going out type either. It took me so much to hype myself up for this date, but I'm glad I'm on it."

Kento smiled when you found the idea rather fun. He knew you'd be a great match for him, especially since he loved to make others smile by filling up their bellies with his own creations (double entendre?)

"But you? Nervous? Seriously? You've been nothing but kind to me, suave even. You're punctual, and you held the chair out for me to sit in. You're just my kinda guy, Kento. Those other tinder matches ain't got nothing on you."

He blushed at the usage of his first name, but he couldn't say he didn't like it. A naïveté towards norms, he presumed, but a naïveté he could appreciate.

Yeah, he knew you were a keeper.

You also quickly learned early on just how tight-knitted his schedule was, but what he lacked in time spent with you he made up for with romance and courting. He'd frequently send you flowers to your workplace and to your home; he took you to the finest restaurants and even the opera; and he made sure to text you regularly. The seven months you'd spent with him were some of the best of your life, and you prayed to god that you wouldn't fuck it up in any way. You were both dating for marriage, and he couldn't have found a better future wife.

Well, that's what he thought, at least. He didn't exactly know about your jealous tendencies, the tendencies that made you buy so many cleaning supplies and bottles of bleach, you started to receive discounts for the shit. The local utility store employees even thought you were a maid, given by the amount of disposable gloves that you went through.

"I should hire you as a maid someday, when I can actually pay for one at least," said the cashier of the home improvement store that you frequented (if you couldn't tell, he was low-key making a pass at you).

"A maid? I'm not-" you quickly stopped when you realized that this would give you a possible coverup and alibi if you needed one.

"I'm confused... aren't you a cleaning lady?" He asked once more.

"Oh, yeah! I totally just forgot all about my job!" You exclaimed, passing it off with a laugh and a smile. "I'm sorry, but I'm not taking any more clients. I'll let you know when I am, though," you followed up with a wink.

Oh, how suave you were. You'd always been an expert at lying, and now was no different. In fact, with the amount of bodies you'd racked up, one could say you were the best liar in all of Japan.

And no, not in terms of sexual partners; you were a killer. A killer by textbook definitions, at least.

It's not like you wanted to kill all these girls! It's just that, with the amount of people that so obviously flocked to your boyfriend of seven months, you'd have to make sure that he wasn't getting any ideas.

It started out with the local call-girl that hollered at him when the two of you were walking home from a date. "Hey, suga! You ever thought about spending time with all this?" She hollered from the other side of the road. Nanami kept his cool and ignored her, passing her off as no more than a streetwalker trying to scam him for all his worth.

You made sure she was forgotten about, though; her body was found cut into pieces a few nights later by the garbage people.

Next came that stupidly innocent bakery worker (get the ref?). "Come again soon!" She called out to Kento after he bought a few pastries for the two of you. You came back a few nights later, and you wiped that innocent look off her face and replaced it with a wide cut on either sides of her mouth, along with a giant slash along her torso.

Soon it was girl #3, then #4, #5, and #6. By the time you hit your first anniversary, it was up to 11 people in total. You knew that your man was a desired man, but god, could people really not keep their hands and words to themselves?

#12 seemed to cause quite the nuisance for you, though. It just so happened that Kento had a "work-wife," or at least according to Miss Work-Wife herself when you met her at an office holiday party. After spending so much time together, your sweet Kento brought you to the party, intending to show you off to all of his jealous colleagues who couldn't keep a partner, even if they tried. He intended to have you on his arm, a subtle act of pride and showing off. He always kept to himself, so why not spice things up a little bit? It was his time to be selfish.

He seemed to have two women on his arm, though: you and the stupid work-wife who just couldn't stop butting into every single situation.

"Oh, so you're Kenny's girl? I didn't know that he liked the girly type; I always thought he'd be into the straight-laced, conservative type. But to each their own, I guess!" she remarked.

Oh how much you hated backhanded compliments. Could people really not understand just how bad they were at covering that shit up? She might as well have called you a brainless bimbo who wore heels that were too high to save her own life. As if she wasn't wearing a face full of fucking makeup, you thought to yourself. Glowy foundation is still foundation, regardless of how "low coverage" it was. And those clumpy ass eyelashes--why the fuck would your man associate with such lowly looking wenches? If he were to talk to women, the least he could do was talk to the nice looking ones. At least then you'd have something cute to carve into.

You'd made a vow to stop killing every woman you see, it wasn't fair to kill all of Kento's friends! He hadn't even given you a reason to doubt him. He was still the same suave gentleman from the very first date. It wasn't like those Reddit AITA posts where the men gradually started putting in less and less effort. If you were a sane person, that would be your train of thought.

But you're not sane--whoever said you were? You're crazy, and that's just a part of you. At least Ken had a loving girlfriend to come home to at the end of the night, even if you needed antipsychotics.

So, when you invited the chick over for drinks one late night, you made sure to do it with a certain plan in mind.

You were going to stab that stupid smile off her face, then dump her somewhere inconspicuous.

┆ . It was laughably easy for you to kill her. You swapped out the white carpet in your apartment for a black one that absorbed all the colors that flew into it, and brought out the spare furniture that you'd been meaning to get rid of a while ago. You even covered the walls with spare wall art that was also gonna go into the trash.

"It's so lovely of you to have me over for drinks, (Y/N)! I knew that from the moment I met you, the two of us were going to be friends," she said, stupidly oblivious to what was about to happen to her.

"Oh, well, I try to be as active in Kento's life as possible, and that includes making friends with his friends as well," you said smoothly, lying through your teeth. She wasn't his friend; he didn't even have her number saved. You grabbed a martini glass from your mini-bar and poured her a dirty martini, making extra sure that the poison didn't look too out of place. You even added pineapple juice to hide the slightly white film in the liquid, mixing it up with your drink mixer. "Y'know, I have a thing for mixology. Care to try one of my new concoctions?" You asked, handing her the glass.

"Would I?" she asked excitedly, taking the glass from you. She took a sip and let out an "ahh," looking satisfied with the drink.

"You like it?"

"Oh, you bet I do. I've always had a thing for pineapple juice."

About 10 minutes in, and she only barely started showing signs of fatigue, much to your fucking dismay. Whoever said that this poison was a fast acting agent must've gotten it on Canal St. "Gosh, I'm a little tired. Do you mind if I lie down?" she asked, already lying down on the couch.

"By all means, go ahead," you smiled, though deep down you wanted to peel her grimy face off your pillows with a potato peeler.

She yawned, stretching her hands above her head, only to have them fall back down on her torso and go to her heart. "My c-chest hurts a little," she laughed. "I've always had a problem with... heartburn. It's a genetic thing."

You took a sip of your own martini, already sick and tired of playing the long game. "It's not heartburn you stupid bitch; I poisoned your fucking drink." The obvious change of voice caught her heavily off guard, and she looked at you with bewilderment. "God, I am so sick and tired of hearing you yap, yap and yap about my boyfriend. Don't you know that one day, we're gonna get married? We don't need suck-ups like you to soak up all the attention."

"Wha- what do you mean?" she slurred, freaking out as she felt her chest tightening. "You put poison in my drink?! Are you... crazy?!"

"I am; I even take meds for it," you said nonchalantly, splashing around the martini in your cup. "Here, try some of mine, see if you like it better," you said cruelly, splashing the alcohol in her face and making her eyes burn. "You really should be wary of the people whose homes you walk into; you never know what exactly to expect with strangers. Especially if you're trying to steal their boyfriends."

"I-I'm not trying to-"

"Girl, please, I've poisoned you, I think it's time we cut the bullshit and the niceties, yeah? I've never been one to be nice anyway, at least not behind closed doors." You got up off the chair, walking to the nearby dresser and pulling out a knife. "When I first saw you, I knew I'd have to kill you eventually. Kento's a nice guy, and he shouldn't have whores like you around him. You're all just a bunch of fucking flies, do y'know that?" You asked, wiping the blade of your knife with a cloth. She could no longer speak, her face turning purple as she fumbled off the couch, crawling towards the door. "Don't even bother with that," you sneered, kicking her down and away from the door. She meekly crawled away, only to have her hair pulled back forcefully by you.

"Have you ever had someone try to steal your boyfriend before? Lemme tell you: it's not a fun feeling. The idea that people would be so dumb as to lay their paws on what's yours... I know my Kento's a dreamboat, but there are other eligible bachelors to choose from in this city. Unluckily for you, you picked the wrong one, because that boy is mine."

You grabbed her and hauled her over to where you had a tarp laid out in the kitchen, and you brought the knife to her neck. "Take a long, last look at this filet mignon, because it's what's gonna be the last thing you fucking see." You then cut it across her throat, hard enough to almost rip her head off of her spine. "Maybe in your next life, you won't be such a whore."

She fumbled about, her hands going to her neck, only for you to grab the knife and stab her brain, effectively killing her. "Poison was taking too long, anyway," you muttered.

The murder was quite clean and it went pretty smoothly, although you'd wished it was the poison instead.

"I'll make sure to give it a one star," you muttered, holding the poison.

You stood up, reaching out for a nearby smock to wipe your hands clean of the blood. You thought you were in the clear, your twelfth kill under your leather belt, only for a voice behind you to disturb the serenity: "love? Are you home? I wanted to surprise you-"

You stopped in your tracks, frozen like a deer in headlights. It didn't take a genius, much less his girlfriend of over a year to realize who it was behind you.

Were you really that idiotic? Did you forget to lock the door?

You looked in the reflection of the kitchen window, seeing Kento's puzzled expression on his face. He was even holding pink roses in one of his arms and had chocolates in the other.

"Ken... I didn't mean for you to- you shouldn't have to see this mess-"

You stopped for a second, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. You turned around, nothing but fear written on your typically calm and gorgeous features. "I didn't mean for you to see me like this," you said, your voice cracking slightly.

"I could guess that," he remarked, his voice as soft as ever. He knew that you were quite fragile in this moment, so he was careful to walk closer to you and wrap his strong arms around your frame once he got to his destination.

You stood there in silence, not knowing what to do or say when he hugged you. Wasn't he... afraid? Wasn't he disgusted by you having killed one of his coworkers?

"I meant to surprise you tonight with dinner. I brought you some takeaway from your favorite place, and I even bought you roses."

You looked down at the bouquet of pink roses that were freshly picked and bought from the local florist. Some of the blood on your hands dripped onto a petal, staining it a hauntingly beautiful color, somehow making this whole situation more romantic.

You'd only ever hurt people, so why was this situation so comforting?

"Thank you, Kento... I appreciate it," you muttered, still reeling from the realization that Kento glossed over the fact that you were the person responsible for all those murders in the newspapers. You wondered if he knew that all this time, his wonderful, graceful girlfriend was the one killing and maiming random girls. He took you to the sink and washed all the blood off your hands with some bleach, then scrubbed the bleach clean with a lavender-scented hand soap.

"Careful now, we wouldn't wanna stain your dress, would we? Not when you're already date night ready," he remarked, his deep voice a soothing balm to your ears.

You simply nodded, going along with whatever he said. After washing them off clean, he wrapped up the tarp and made extra sure not to spill any of the bodily fluids anywhere, putting it in a spare closet nearby. You stood there, watching as your boyfriend cleaned up your crime scene in your apartment. You watched his features, and you couldn't tell if he was upset or not.

He guided you back to the dining table where the bag of food was. He set out plates and cutlery for the two of you, not letting you lift a single finger. Once the two of you sat down, he started eating in silence when he saw you looking at him.

"(Y/N), don't let it go cold. Eat up," he instructed softly.

You obliged, picking up your fork and eating the red meat hesitantly. Red meat, how poetic.

"Kento," you started, putting your fork down and looking up at the blonde man. "We're gonna have to talk about it eventually."

"I know, sweetheart, I know. Just... not over red meat, okay?"

You simply nodded, going back to your food. You ate more comfortably, the knowledge that you no longer had the secret hidden making you rest easier now. Perhaps he did know already, and he just didn't wanna make you any more worried than you already were by bringing it up. Perhaps he was put off by it, but he was willing to gloss over it and act like it didn't matter. Whatever the reason might've been, you could rest easy knowing that your boyfriend wasn't going anywhere.

"Work was quite eventful today. They handed out promotions, and I was one of the lucky few who got one." He looked up at you after swallowing his food, carefully watching your expression and making sure you were alright.

"That's great news, Kento, I'm happy for you." He smiled softly at your acquiescence, happy to finally change the topic.

Blood always seemed to scared him.

I hope this was good enough... 👅

© ʙʀᴜɴᴇᴛᴛᴇ-ʙɪᴛᴄʜ77 on tumblr - get your own shit bitches | ca. 6/10/2024

[spidybaby]

I love the difference between girls who like footballers and read fanfics, but they do know it's all a fanfic, and they won't actually marry the footballer.

And the girls who read fanfic, they are obsessed with everything about the footballer. They stalk the family, and they even know what day, hour, minute, second their favorite poop for the first time.

The first ones joke with things like "now that Fermin has a girlfriend, that means she would be our bestie on the gavi fanfics"

And the second ones. "I hate her. She's ugly. I hope she gets run over when she crosses the street. I'll never accept her into the family..."

Babe... baby girl.... my darling... you are NOT part of the family, you do not get to approve any girl, boy, or person that cross paths with your favorite footballer.

We need to stop normalizing the hate that these girls receive. We need to stop calling them gold diggers, sluts, any kind of derogatory name.

As girls, boys, or people. We like this footballer, we love how good he is on the pitch, we love how nice he is, we love how much he cares for the fans.

But we do not care if he has a girlfriend, sure it hurts that my delulu self that has to stop dreaming about meeting him at the baker shop and him falling in love with me like Shane did over mitchy singing on camp rock.

I'm not here for the hate. Let's all love each other and, most importantly:

LET'S ALL RESPECT EACH OTHER ❤️

💋 that's all, kisses 💋