#i did it twice without falling. and the second time i did it without even falling off the ski lift !!!

[hoshifighting]

Pls give me never-jealous nonchalant bf! woozi getting triggered over y/n complimenting some other flirty man's voice at a party so they ended up having bathroom fun. Pls pls pls

nonchalant bf!woozi getting jealous and fucking you in the club

PREVIEW: “you think his voice’s pretty, huh?” he growled against your mouth. “wait till i’m moaning in your ear. bet you won’t think about his voice then.” you swear you almost blacked out right there. WARNINGS: smut, explicit language, degradation, rage sex, dirty talk, jealousy, penetrative sex, jihoon moaning, body fluids (cum), a bit of after care,

you didn’t think twice when the bartender slid both drinks across the counter, his smile a little too wide and his voice dripping in that syrupy charm that bartenders seemed to have on tap. he’d just finished explaining the entire menu to you like you were clueless—which, okay, you kinda were, but you could’ve done without the unnecessary flirting. whatever. you were polite, thanked him, and took your drinks to find jihoon.

the second you slid his glass onto the sticky table, you mentioned it casually. “the bartender’s got a pretty voice,” you said, not even sparing him a glance as you adjusted your skirt.

jihoon’s shoulders went rigid under his thin-ass shirt, so translucent it might as well be a goddamn window. his jaw ticked, and his eyebrows furrowed in that way that screamed i’m not jealous, but i’m absolutely fucking jealous. you could see it so clearly, like a red-hot thermometer climbing from his sneakers to the tips of his ears.

you kept talking like nothing happened, but internally, you were screaming. this wasn’t new—jihoon getting all worked up was practically a bi-weekly event—but every time he let his emotions slip? it was game over for you.

“babe,” he cut you off sharp as he grabbed your wrist, his palm burning against your skin. before you could even register what was happening, he was weaving you through the crowd, dragging you along like a man on a mission. his grip softened slightly when he remembered your ridiculous high heels, but he didn’t stop until he’d hauled you into the dingy club bathroom.

the second the door slammed shut, his lips were on yours, hot and furious. he kissed like he was trying to brand you, his hands greedy as they gripped your waist, then slid down to squeeze your ass.

“you think his voice’s pretty, huh?” he growled against your mouth. “wait till i’m moaning in your ear. bet you won’t think about his voice then.” you swear you almost blacked out right there.

“babe—”

his hand tangled in your hair, tugging it harshly enough to make your head tilt back. “nah, don’t stop now. keep talkin’ about other guys while i’m right here.”

your lipstick was completely fucked, smeared all over your mouth and probably his too. his other hand found your chest, fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp. you were melting, your panties already a lost cause.

“you’re so fucking easy, one kiss, and you’re dripping, hm? bet you’d let me fuck you right here if i wanted.”

before you could even catch your breath, his thigh slid between yours, pressing right on your cunt, making the wet panties slide uncomfortably through your folds. his grip on your hips was firm grounding you down against him.

“ride it.” his voice cutting through the haze clouding your brain.

your head snapped up, eyes wide in disbelief.

jihoon almost laughed at your stunned expression, the corner of his mouth twitching, but his grip on your hair tightened, yanking your face closer to his. “did i fucking stutter?” he bit out, his eyes blazing. “i said, ride. it.”

a shaky breath escaped you as you tried to move, but the friction was almost nothing. his thigh was solid beneath you, unyielding, and the way he watched you like he was eating every little reaction, made you almost embarrassed.

“that’s it,” he encouraged, his hands gripping your waist to guide your movements. “show me how bad you want it.”

you whimpered, head falling against his shoulder, the dirty bathroom and the muffled bass of the club fading into the background. jihoon leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “you’re suck a needy whore. getting off on my thigh like a desperate little thing. bet you’re soakingmy jeans right now.”

you couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped, loud and shameless, and jihoon groaned, his grip tightening. “yeah, that’s it. don’t hold back now. let everyone hear who’s making you feel this good.”

your fingers tangled in his hair, desperate and trembling, tugging hard enough to make him hiss. his reaction was immediate—his hands shot up to grab your wrists, pinning them against the edge of the sink, his grip firm but not cruel.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he growled, his chest pressing hard against yours as you arched into him, helpless and needy.

“jihoon,” you whimpered, your voice cracking as your face scrunched, tears threatening to spill. “i—i can’t—”

he paused, his jaw clenching as his eyes searched your face. “you can’t what?”

your lip quivered, your breath hitching as you choked out, “i need you. so bad, jihoon, it hurts.”

his expression shifted, his grip on your wrists loosening just slightly as he turned you around, pressing your chest against the sink. his hand slid down your back, as he kicked your legs apart. the panties were roughly pulled to the side. “then stop fucking whining and take it.”

the first thrust was brutal, and you cried out, your hands flying to grip the edge of the sink as the tears finally spilled over as your pussy couldn't even clench with the sudden penetration, your ears getting stuffed. jihoon groaned, his hands gripping your hips as he set a punishing pace.

“crying already? don’t tell me it’s too much.”

you sobbed when your mind came back, he yanked your hair, pulling your head back so he could see your face in the mirror. he watched the tears stream down your cheeks. “so fucking pretty when you cry.”

“hoon—!”

his teeth scraped against your ear cartilage, adn he bit down just hard enough to make you whimper, and then he exhaled—a low, shaky sound that turned into a soft moan, right in your ear.

his grip on your hair faltered for half a second, his strength stuttering, but he didn’t let go. instead, his moans got louder, the pitch rising with every thrust. they weren’t loud, but they were wrecked, so wrecked—whiny and breathless, like he was struggling to keep himself together.

“taking me so good—ah—fuck.”

you were gone. your vision blurred, spiraling in and out as the alcohol and pure lust made your knees buckle. every single one of his whiny, broken ah-ah’s sent a fresh wave of heat through your belly, clenching so hard around him it felt like you might snap.

his lips brushed your ear again, warm and damp, and he groaned—this high-pitched, desperate sound that had you dripping, the slickness already making a mess of your thighs. your breathing was ragged, chest heaving against the sink, and your legs were barely holding you up. if it weren’t for jihoon’s insane strength—his arm locked tight around your waist—you would’ve collapsed already.

“jihoon—” you sobbed, your voice weak, breaking apart at the edges. “i can’t—”

“yes, you can,” he growled, but then he moaned again, and it wasn’t just a sound. it was a melody—needy, and drawn out, his voice cracking in the middle like he couldn’t take it either.

you whimpered, your vision tunneling as the orgasm built, white-hot and relentless. your body trembled violently, your nails clawing at the edge of the sink.

“fuck, i can feel you,” he gasped, his voice strangled. “you’re so fucking close, aren’t you? you’re squeezing me so tight—shit—gonna come?”

and then he whined—the most broken, helpless sound you’d ever heard, right against your ear—and you completely fell apart. your body seized, a sob ripping from your throat as the orgasm crashed into your.

jihoon groaned, his voice cracking as he followed you, his thrusts erratic and desperate, his forehead pressed against your shoulder as he panted and moaned, completely destroyed by the way you fell apart for him.

cleaning up was almost comedic, if you weren’t both still reeling from the mess you’d made of each other. jihoon tried to reach for the shitty paper dispenser, one arm still holding your waist to keep you from sliding off the sink. your upper body was basically draped over the cold marble, your legs trembling so much you couldn’t stand without him.

“can you—shit—can you move?” his hand smoothed over your rumpled skirt, trying to fix it, but it was pointless.

you groaned, your cheek smushed against the your arm. “i literally can’t. my legs are fucking noodles.”

jihoon huffed a laugh, his breath still uneven. “guess you’ll just have to stay like that.”

someone knocked on the door, hard and impatient, and jihoon’s head snapped up, his brows furrowing. “occupied!” he barked, his voice sharp enough to make whoever it was pause. when the knocking didn’t stop, he rolled his eyes and snapped, “shut the fuck up! we’ll be out when we’re out.”

you let out a weak laugh, still sprawled over the sink. “god, you’re so aggressive.”

“yeah, well, they’re annoying...” he sulked.

finally, when your legs felt a little less like jelly, you managed to push yourself up, leaning heavily on him for support. jihoon grumbled under his breath, reaching for the paper again, and this time, he managed to grab a handful.

he crouched slightly, his hands surprisingly gentle as he wiped your thighs clean, his lips quirking into a smirk when you flinched. “still sensitive, hmm?”

“shut up,” you mumbled, swatting weakly at his shoulder.

once he’d done his best with the paper towels—which, honestly, wasn’t much—he stood up, brushing your skirt down and tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “you good?”

you nodded, still a little dazed but steady enough to manage. “yeah. i think.”

he hummed, his hand sliding down to rest on your hip as he opened the bathroom door, ignoring the dirty looks from the small line that had formed outside. “what?” he snapped, his glare daring anyone to say a word.

[sunrotdropbrain]

Enjoy a fanfic I'm too impatient to wait on

You stuck to the shadows, trying to be as quiet and as invisible as you could while making your escape. It wasn’t hard to know where the blind spots in the garden were, considering you’d spent your whole life walking its paths. Even your bare feet didn’t suffer so much as a scratch because all the brick tiles remained the same and the plant life maintained. Your heart beat like a hummingbird in your chest as you inched closer to the exit. This was the furthest you’d ever gotten.

Of course it didn’t last long, though. The loud clang of the bell rang throughout the castle, startling birds into the air. Your headstart was over. Sun had found the fake in your bed. Eschewing the careful pace, you broke into a run, still following along the hedges.

“Princess is trying to escape! Princess is trying to escape!”

You mentally curse Sun’s panicked voice, even louder than the bell. As if his counterpart could miss either sound.

Already you heard the rustle of leaves and a figure moving so fast he cut through the wind. Although you knew the sound he was making was for your benefit. He wanted you to know he was closing in on you.

The gate was only a few feet away. You gripped the key tight in your palm. It had been difficult getting it from Sun without him catching on. Even so, you pressed the key to your lips, whispering a prayer before sending it sailing towards the gate. The figure screeched to a halt, seeing the key but no human with it. You could hear the gentle mechanical ticking of his gears as he worked out the scene before him. You had always tried to escape through the gate before. He couldn’t have expected you’d go a completely different way.

The walls of the garden were impossibly high. At least three times a tall man’s size and you were definitely nowhere near tall. You pull out the rope pieces you knotted into one long one, each cut off from a different section of the castle. You don’t doubt that if you’re caught, you won’t be allowed around any ropes anymore. You tie the end around a loose brick you procured, grunting with effort to try and throw it at the top.

You missed. Once. Twice. But on the third it caught along the edge. You gave it a few tugs. Solid. You just hoped it would continue to hold your weight.

The wall surface was rough, the rocky texture biting into your bare skin and the rope chafing your palms. You grunted from the effort, sweat sticking to the back of your dress. This was much harder than you’d imagined it to be. Progress was slow, each step up taking every muscle until they began to ache.

You could hear Sun’s wailing voice and saw a couple rays extending through the garden as he ran through, begging you to be careful. You were only halfway up the wall. Clenching your jaw, you tried to move faster, adrenaline masking the pain. If you could just make it a little higher. Just enough to see over the wall and the world beyond your castle.

Your dress was too hot. It stuck to your skin and got in the way. If you had time to take it off, you would have. The sky inched closer and closer. You dared not look at the ground. If you lost focus, a fall from this height might kill you. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself not to imagine how you’d look, splattered against the garden path.

Immediately you regretted closing your eyes when two hands grabbed you under your arms, pulling you away from your rope.

Moon held onto you like you were still a child, scaling down the wall with a miniscule amount of effort. “Nope. Nice try.”

You cross your arms as he sets you down, recalling his grapple hook and cord back to his hip. If only you had something like he did, you would have been over the wall by now. “How long did it take you to figure out the key was a diversion?”

The mechanical man was as calm and unaffected as ever. “Two [seconds]. Wanted to give you a headstart.”

Groaning, you faked punching his arm. “So I still never had a chance? I just wanted to see past the garden.”

Moon was unaffected by your feigned assault on him, only gently holding your wrists to stop you from punching him. If anything, you would end up hurting yourself before you ever made a mark on him.

“Liar,” he said. “You wanted to go beyond the wall. Too dangerous.”

You dropped your forehead against his chest, grumbling about how you should have planned even more carefully than you had. Your tender moment of annoyance gets cut short when a pair of hands spun you around.

“There you are, Princess! Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Sun scanned your face while his hands feel along your shoulders, hands and jaw. He gave up on the inspection to pull you into a bone crushing hug. “I’m so so so sorry I wasn’t here sooner! There were a lot of hazards in the garden that slowed me down.”

Moon gave you a pointed look as you did your best to avoid his gaze. “Sorry. Those were supposed to be for Moon.”

You swore he hid a chuckle behind his hand right as Sun let go of you. Despite how overactive and hypervigilante Sun’s worry about you was, he wasn’t much of a threat. He tended to fall for your diversions easily. If he was worried enough about you, he wouldn’t even pay attention to his surroundings and could get slowed down by anything you put in his way. And without Moon’s ability to fly around and scale walls with his grappling hook, he probably wouldn’t catch you as fast. There’s no doubt in any of your minds that if Moon hadn’t been here, you already would have made it past the garden.

“You know it’s too dangerous to go past the garden,” Sun told you for what must have been the thousandth time.

“I know.”

“We’re only trying to keep you safe, Princess.”

“Yes, I know.”

“You could end up getting yourself killed if you don’t listen to us!” So they said.

You shot Moon an annoyed can you believe this guy look as Sun continued on the lecture he’d been giving you for years. Although Moon had never outright said anything, it was obvious he didn’t believe in babying you as much as his counterpart did. Even so, Moon folded his arm. “Didn’t think your escape plan through. Hm? Not a strong rope. Not a heavy brick. You escape, you try to climb down…” He yanked on the rope, pulling the brick down as it smashed into the ground, pieces scattering everywhere. “Princess pancake.”

As disturbing a thought that was, it still couldn’t satiate the curiosity and desire you had to see the world beyond. You grimaced but knew there was no point in bringing it up. You would be told the same thing as always.

Sun turned back to fussing over you, adjusting your wrinkled dress and trying to find any damage. He did the equivalent of a gasp when he saw your irritated palms. “Just look at your hands! Oh, this won’t do, it won’t do, it won’t do. We need to get you fixed up right away.”

He began steering you towards the castle again, chattering up a storm about all the things he’d need to do. You had to crane your neck to look back at Moon, giving him a begging look to save you. Instead he smiled wider, giving you a wave with a wiggle of his fingers as he left you to your nagging fate. Sun gasped.

“And look at your feet!

[oflgtfol]

anyway so i went skiing for the first time yesterday bc it's a super huge thing my boyfriend is into so he was teaching me how to ski yesterday and its. very fun. never in my life would i imagine myself doing a sport like this but he said i picked it up the fastest out of anyone he's ever taught (not like hes an instructor or anything but over the 15 years he's been skiing, he's brought a lot of people along with him as their first time) so like TEE HEE. i very much can see this becoming a real thing i do semi consistently

[tonycries]

Welcome To The Itadori's! - C.K.

Synopsis. Three times Choso really, really wanted to hold you without his family barging in, and the one time he actually does. 

Pairing. Best friend! Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, childhood best friends to lovers, slowburn, cameos from the Itadori’s (Yuji, Jin, grandpa, SUKUNA), smút only when they’re adults, first times, oral (female receiving), cúnnilingus, marking, rough, Choso’s a bit mean in bed, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.0k

A/N. The unc-kuna brainrot got me here, Yuji’s family tree is HILARIOUS.

“You’ve never what?”  

“I mean, yeah? So what if I’ve never…uh-” eyes darting to the erotic scene on-screen. “M’surely not missing out on that much.”

Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn’t. Whatever the answer was, Choso could only pray that no one walked into your apartment right now.

---

Choso swears his family is well and fully intent on ruining every waking moment with you. 

He’s convinced even, at this point. Because in the 13 long years of being inseparable from you - ever since you were both whiney, snot-faced brats - Choso’s racked up more interruptions than he’s seen on those k-dramas that his grandfather swears he doesn’t watch.

It was like some cosmic joke, really. All he wanted was a moment with just the two of you…and maybe a second or two to confess his undying love. But that didn’t seem too realistic when the Itadori’s were a bit of a packaged deal, unfortunately.  

Alas, Choso’s resigned himself to accept the fact that maybe - just maybe - this was the universe’s way of telling him that his pretty best friend was indeed too good for him. Something he’s suspected ever since the both of you were eight.

The realization had hit him like a semi-truck back then - five of them, in fact. And a whole zoo of animals afterward.

Of course, it’s not like that was any secret. He always thought you were perfect from the second you’d moved in - that new family next door he’d been eagerly waiting ages to arrive. And Choso, being the dutiful oldest son, was the one to deliver welcome cookies to your doorstep. Stumbling, and carefully trying to reach for the doorbell without dropping any. 

“Um, welcome to-”

“Your hair’s funny.”

Now, Choso’s never greeted neighbors before, but it surely wasn’t supposed to go like this. Why was he being insulted by some little girl - you were missing a few teeth, and his had just grown back in so obviously he was much older and wiser. All unapologetic smiles and twinkling eyes as you blink up curiously at his space buns. Pretty, even when you were tearing his heart out because hey, he thought this hairstyle was cool, okay?

Which is what had him huffing and puffing back home, running straight into the arms of his dad while he tried not to cry. That is, until you came knocking at his door with your parents. Very much bawling and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug with wet mumbles of “M’sorry, meant your hair’s very cool. Wanna match-”

And, if his cheeks burned just a bit, well, Choso blamed the tears. 

After a disaster like that, of course you’d grow to be best friends within the day. 

But what that didn’t explain was when - after hours of bickering over whether to play tag or house - you were all tuckered out and sat beside him in a corner of his room, too exhausted to talk his ear off. Head lolling once. Twice. Falling softly onto his shoulder.

Oh. 

Now, Choso might just be having the first epiphany of his entire, grueling eight years in this world - that you were very, very pretty fast asleep with your head on his shoulder. 

Why? Why were you here barging into his life and turning it upside down? Calling him your “new best friend” and dragging him along wherever you went. It made his poor head absolutely spin, not daring to move a muscle so that you didn’t wake up and see this tiny predicament.

He didn’t know why. But what he did know was that he found himself subconsciously reaching for your hand, a strange little part of himself wanting to see how much smaller they were than his. They looked so soft and warm and-

“I WANNA PLAY T- Oh.”

Oh indeed. He hastily lurches away from you like it burned, hands raised like he was caught red-handed. Feeling slightly sorry when he sees you blinking away the sleep to take in your surroundings, eyes bouncing off of a very excited Yuji and resting on the clock.

“Oh no. Mommy’s gonna be mad.” you gasp, hastily getting up. And he feels a weird pang as you quickly dust down your dress, running out the door with a laughed out, “Bye, Yuji! See ya later, Cho~!”

“Bye, crybaby.”

And then it’s quiet. Only Choso still staring after you, and Yuji staring at his older brother, somewhat awestruck and wondering only one thing-

“Big bro, why are you so red?”

Choso doesn’t think he’s gotten a moment alone with you since that first initial meeting. 

Fourteen was definitely the worst, in his opinion.

“Hey, Cho, y’know the girl sitting next to me in math said she had her first kiss today.”

“Oh.” It’s all Choso can manage to get out, paying more attention than he should to the gravel beneath him as he tries not to trip over air beside you. Hot under his uniform collar at the sudden shift in conversation from the usual after-school banter. 

Looping your arm with his, you heave out a playful sigh, “I wonder what that feels like. Have you ever thought about it?” 

No, but Choso has never thought that he’d be here - face burning at your body pressed up against his. Just knowing that his ancestors above are laughing at what a loser he is, barely able to stammer out an answer to your question. 

Okay, maybe he was being dramatic. Because it wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about kissing before - it’s just that whenever it popped into his mind, you were usually accompanying him. Along with those strange thoughts of whether your lips are as soft as they looked? Or would your heartbeat be as fast as-

“Man, are you even listening?” 

Shit. 

Your hand waving in front of Choso’s face brings him back to reality. Blinking hastily, he tries to gather his thoughts, mumbling out a quick, “Uh, yeah, sorry. Just lost in thought.” averting his gaze as he feels the heat rise to his cheeks at your intense gaze.

Your smile only widens, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you nudge his side. “Thinking so hard about kissing, huh? Cho, you lecher!” 

“Am not.”

“Am to.”

“Am not.”

“Am to.”

“Who were you imagining it with, huh? Gonna give ‘em a big smooch tomorrow?”

God, you were going to be the death of him. “N-no! I haven’t even- shut up, crybaby, it’s not like-” he sputters out useless protests over your laughter - his favorite song, even when you were teasing the hell out of him. But ah how you relish in his embarrassment, tittering out little giggles all the way until you’re steering him onto your lane. 

Choso, on the other hand, keeps wishing the ground would swallow him up more and more with each step towards his porch. He’d have broken into a sprint right then if he hadn’t known you and the way you’d race him there instead.

“Alright.” you declare once you’re stood at his front door, jolting Choso out of his reverie. And he’s barely opening his mouth to register your words before you plowing on confidently. “We’ll just have to practice our first kisses with each other.”

Perfect. Great. Wonderful. 

The final nail on his coffin. You might as well have planted a bombshell right in the middle of his already-chaotic world with the way he was reeling in- shock? Fear? Anticipation?

“Practice.” Choso whispers, more to himself than you. Yet you nod anyway, eyes locked with his like you were studying his reaction. “For…practice.”

Doubt starts to creep into your pretty features, “Well, we don’t have to if you do-”

“No no no no, I want- ahem.” he cringes at the pathetic desperation in his voice. Desperately trying to scramble back some semblance of sanity as he clears his throat, “I want to. Just-” Choso urgently looks around for- ah, there it is. 

Dragging over the brick from the side of his porch because goddammit he might be 14 but he sure hadn’t hit that growth spurt yet. “Practice, right?”

You nod with a fiery determination that, later on, would make Choso chuckle with fondness. Muttering out a firm, “Practice.” Letting the boy in front of you nervously leans closer, breath fanning your face. And shit if you were nervous then you didn’t show it, but Choso felt like he was about to spontaneously combust. 

Brows furrowing in concentration, eyes only squinting ever-so-slightly as he takes peaks at how pretty you looked. Close enough that he could count every lash as your pretty eyes closed shut, lips glistening with that strawberry chapstick you loved, puckering adorably. Only inching closer and-

Click! 

“You two are so cute! But um- dear, how do you mute this thing?”

You spring apart so fast that Choso wouldn’t be surprised if you’d teleported. He doesn’t even know what’s happening before, from the safety of about three meters away from him, you’re muttering out an embarrassed little, “Hi there, Mr. Itadori. The gardenia are coming along nicely.”

His dad smiles like he hadn’t just starred in what was likely Choso’s villain origin story. Waving happily, “Aww, thank you, sweetheart. Now, why don’t you two go back to doing your lil’ thing and I can ah- practice my photography.”

“Dad, I’m running away.”

That practice kiss never happens. And, well, if there was a proudly framed photo down the hallway of the two of you - with Choso absolutely bright red and standing comically on a brick to meet your height, faces nervously scrunching towards each other - well, neither of you ever mention it. Jin Itadori does, though - every time you come over, in fact. 

It’s only when you’re both eighteen, when Choso’s a lot deeper in his feelings - and only slightly less embarrassed about it - that he thinks that maybe not all family interruptions were that bad. 

Graduation was…something. Not exactly something that he’s sure if he’ll ever want to relive with the sheer amount of awkward photos and tears that his dad lets out. God if he has to shuffle into another-

“You alright, Cho?”

Ah. 

Traitorously, a smile makes its way onto his face, peering down at your beaming face. Both of you having made it way past the awkward early teens. Well, at least you certainly have - Choso still feels like the same awkward little boy with an even more awkward crush. “Hm? Yeah, m’great.” 

“Are ya sure? Because you look like you’re about to have an aneurysm any second now.” you raise a brow teasingly. Ah, how gorgeous you were - even when you’re picking him apart. 

“Yeah. Great. Only had this smile plastered on for the last five hours.”

“Aww, but you look so pretty smiling.” you shrug, with the audacity of someone that didn’t just have Choso’s knees dangerously weak. “Anyway- A bunch of us are gonna try to convince ol’ Yaga to let us take photos with his shades, you wanna come?”

“You think m’pretty?” he muses, embarrassingly late.

“Cho.”

“Yaga. Shades. Got it.” Choso mock salutes, drinking in the little laugh it startles out of you, eyes sparkling with mischief and looking right into his soul. Beautiful. You were always beautiful. 

And Choso can’t just stand around and do nothing about it.

“Crybaby, look, I-” Fists clenching, he takes a steadying breath. The heat only rising to his cheeks at your awaiting gaze, “I…”

“HEY, GRANDPA HELPED STEAL YAGA’S SHADES LET’S TAKE A PIC-”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP ITADORI. YOU’RE RUINING A MOMENT, LET THEM HAVE THEIR MOMENT.”

“I don’t know either of you two.”

It would be a miracle for a moment not to be ruined with two overly-energetic first-years (and a very reluctant Fushiguro) pushing their way into your little bubble. Choso bites back a groan as you’re immediately swarmed by a bickering Kugisaki and Yuji, one apologizing for “ruining your k-drama moment” and the other trying to get you to put on some sunglasses. Well, at least he could empathize with the black-haired boy, who gave him an apologetic nod. 

He’s only halfway through waving off the interruption before a voice speaks up from his side. “Why didn’t you say it?”

Whirling around, Choso comes face-to-face with the disappointed look on his grandfather’s face. Already having some idea of what you mean, “Wha-”

“I may be old but m’not deaf, yet, boy. Why didn’t ya tell her?” he sighs, tilting his head to where you were wearing those shades and taking ridiculous pictures with two animated first-years. 

“I don’t know what you-”

“M’not blind, either. Quite frankly I’m insulted.”

And, well, if there’s anyone that he can’t hide from - it would be his grandfather. So he heaves out a defeated sigh, touselling his hair while muttering out a pathetic little, “M’not- Ugh, she’s too fuckin’ perfect and I…I chickened out.”

Choso doesn’t know what he expected in response but it definitely wasn’t for his grandfather to laugh. Full, and raspy - loud enough that even you stop to stare. “Thought so, idiot boy.” he chuckles, drawing indignant protests. “Did she tell you?”

Raising a brow, “What?”

“Did she tell you that you weren’t good ‘nough for her?”

“No, but-” Whatever protest on the tip of Choso’s tongue is cut off by a rough hand smacking his back in what he thinks is reassurance, but felt more like a punishment for being such a pussy around you all these years. 

“Then go. Ya might just be surprised. After all, you’re my grandson, and all the ladies at bingo love me.”

Shaking with both adrenaline and the effort to keep that image out of his mind, he makes his way towards you. Purposeful. Pointedly ignoring the matching smirks flashed his way. 

“You really think they’ll finally get together today?” Fushiguro deadpans from where he’d snuck up beside the old man, in an attempt to escape the public nuisances he calls ‘friends’. 

Choso’s grandfather hums thoughtfully, watching the scene play out before him - Choso flushed such a delicate shade of pink as you playfully put Yaga’s sunglasses on him. Settling on a gruff, “I’ll give it a few months more. He’s my grandson, after all.”

“That’s generous. I’d give it a couple years more.”

“Wanna bet, brat?”

“...”

Safe to say, his second button ended up safely in your hands that day. But Fushiguro would be the one to really win the bet. 

Because it was only 2 years, 4 months and 3 weeks after this little incident that Choso finally had you exactly where he wanted - with no interruptions. All for him. 

Freshly twenty one, splayed out on your apartment bedroom and having a conversation that he never in a million years would’ve even dared to imagine he’d have - with you of all people. All because of that stupid R-rated film you’d put on for movie night. 

“You’ve never what?” you gape, turning down the volume to those painfully fake moans coming from the tv.

Oh, how gorgeous you looked - all shocked and batting your lashes up at him in surprise. Choso almost swoons inwardly (and outwardly) before he realizes that shit you were probably waiting for an answer.

“I mean, yeah?” he sputters out, cheeks heating up as you lean in closer to hear him. Close. “So what if I’ve never…uh-” eyes darting to the erotic scene on-screen. “M’surely not missing out on that much.”

Goddammit, some strange, carnal part of himself twinges dangerously at the little smirk that curls your lips. One that he quickly - and embarrassingly - realizes has the blood rushing straight to his cock. Humming a low, “Maybe. Maybe not.” The mattress dips slightly as you shift closer, lips ghosting his ear. “Want me to help you find out?”

Which is, well, how Choso found himself shoved against the armrest. Blanket thrown on the floor now, swollen cock leaking furiously through his pants as your pretty lil’ cunt hovers above his mouth. So wet that if he stuck his tongue out he could have you dripping all onto him. 

“Y-you sure about this, sweetheart?” he hisses despite his hands looping around your thighs, bringing you closer to him.

You raise a brow, “Are you sure, Cho?”

He should say no. He should laugh this all off as a bad joke. He shouldn’t ruin this friendship - but oh how badly he wants just a taste of your dripping pussy - see if she’s as sweet as the rest of you is. So, throwing caution to the wind, Choso nods slowly. “Yes. Want it s’bad.”

Grinning wickedly, you whisper, “Thought so.” And then he’s pulling you onto his mouth, hot and urgent.

“Oh fuck-” he groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the first taste of your sweet sweet juices. “Shit shit shit.” So sloppily licking up your swollen folds - barely moving with any method or patience, just that he’s drunk on your pussy and wants more more more-

“Hngh- f-fuck. You sure this is your hah- first time, Cho?” you gasp breathlessly. And oh your best friend was so fucking beautiful. Dark hair untied and tousled, eyes half-hooded, your slick already smearing across the bottom half of his face and trickling down his jaw because shit he was so messy. So addicted to that desperate expression on your face that he just can’t help but tease you a little bit. 

“Mhm?” he smirks, tongue swirling around your pulsing clit. Purposefully missing right where you wanted him the most because shit he loved those cute lil’ whines spilling out of you. 

You let out a huff, hips trying pathetically to inch him closer - but Choso wasn’t budging. Holding you so firmly by the hips that you’re sure he leaves bruises, licking all over your cunt except for your clit. “Cho.” you warn. Brows furrowing in frustration at the way he bats his long lashes up at you so deceivingly innocently, “What?”

“You know…”

“I don’t.” he titters teasingly into your pussy. 

“Choso.”

Now, Choso’s known and seen everything there is to do with you - but never like this. Spread open shamefully and pouting so adorably on top of him, so needy for him. It made his head spin to think of just how much the dynamics had shifted. 

Shit, he really should’ve watched that godforsaken movie with you sooner. “Tell me what you want, crybaby.”

And oh how his cock twitches at the way you manage to get out an embarrassed little, “Wan’ you to ngh- tonguefuck me properly. Wanna cum on your pretty face, Cho.”

And that’s all that’s said before he’s surging forward, glossy lips wrapping around your pulsing clit to suck harshly. Rolling his soft tongue over and over-

“Wanted this for so long.” Choso mutters, muffled as he buries himself deeper into your pretty pussy. The vibrations sending white-hot pleasure running down your spine. “You have absolutely no idea, pretty.”

And you barely even have the time to register his little confession before Choso’s moving down to bully his tongue past your folds. Nose pressing against your throbbing clit as he dips into your sloppy hole. 

“Oh shit. Jus’ like that.” For a beginner, your best friend really knew what he was doing. Eating you out like his favorite meal, tongue squeezing into your snug pussy to thrust in and out, swipe against your walls, stretching you out right to his will. Over and over-

“Use me.”

Your eyes snap down to meet the pure adoration in his eyes as he makes out filthily with your cunt. Choking out a little, “What?”

“Use me.”

There it was again - that strained little mantra. And as if to prove his point, Choso reaches out to deftly place your hands on his head, bucking into you touch. 

And, well, how could you say no to that?

Because before you know it, you’re bunching Choso’s soft strands in your fists. Angling him just right to ride his pretty face. “C’mon, Cho. Ngh- H-harder, jus’ a bit- Oh!” he just devours the way your mouth drops into an adorable little oh! as his tongue curls deftly against that one spot. Again and again. Letting himself be so used, dragging your dripping cunt harder on his mouth. 

And he likes it. Hell, he loves it even - because you’re so sweet n’ pretty on his mouth. Better than everything he’s ever been dreaming of for the past few years. And always in his dreams, you’d be clenching so deliciously around his tongue when you were close - just like right now. 

So he speeds up his movements, breathing you in maddeningly. A hand snaking down from it’s favorite place on your hips to draw quick, frenzied little circles on your poor, ravaged clit. Jaw almost aching with how filthily he was dripping in and out of your entrance - be he did give a shit. Only wanting to have you breathless and creaming all over his face.

You jerk violently on top of him, “Hah! S’too much, Cho. M’so close- gonna cum- gonna-”

And then you’re cumming. Fast, and hard. 

Plushy walls clamping down on Choso’s tongue, hips stuttering on his face as he laps up all your juices, an arm around your waist helping you ride his face through your high. 

“S’sweet. Could get used to that.” he slurs into your cunt. Tipping his head back as far as it’d go to let the last of your juices slide down his throat. “Better than I imagined.”

The words ring in your ears as you blink back your vision. Deliriously whirling down to look down at Choso - still beneath you and looking more smug and content than you’d ever seen him. “Imagination? S’that why you’re so good.”

“No.”

You’re being flipped before you know it. Manhandled so easily by your best friend as he lays you on your back, sinking into the cushion while he looms above you. “S’jus’ that…” grunting as he flings his shirt off, “Been dreaming of your pretty cunt on m’tongue for years.”

Okay, now his confession hits - more than it did when he was tonguefucking you into insanity, anyway. 

“Years, huh?” you breathe out, eyes roaming all over his sculpted torso. Taking in every dip and curve of Choso’s toned abs - all the way from his broad shoulders to the rock-hard cock straining against his pants. As if in a trance, your hand reaches out to cup his leaking erection, “S’that all you’ve been dreaming of?”

“You little minx.” he lets out a low hiss. 

Before you can even react, Choso’s fumbling with that belt - cursing because shit, he’d have worn sweatpants instead if he knew they’d end up on your floor. 

And you’re not any better, fingers popping open his buttons and tugging impatiently and oh- You always thought that your best friend would have a big dick - but this?  He was so intimidatingly long - and thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself. Fat tip flushed such a pretty shade of pink to match his cheeks, leaking down down down, all the way to his heavy balls. 

You’re only jolted out of your little reverie by Choso spitting a steady stream of spit onto your quivering cunt, spreading it lazily across your pussy with his thumb. A ringed fist pumping his cock slowly, as he drags his tip across your folds, pooling your sweet juices. Muttering out a raspy, “I’ll be gentle.”

“You better not be, now jus’ fuck me-”

Well, you didn’t have to ask Choso twice. Because you’ve barely gotten the words out before he’s bullying massive cock into your tight cunt. Pressing in inch by fucking inch as you gasp and buck underneath him. 

“Shhh, s’okay, crybaby. This is what you wanted, right?” he mumbles, with all the audacity of someone that wasn’t fucking into you in rapid, mindless little jabs to fit inside your snug lil’ pussy. Struggling to hold back at this point. “Wanted to be split apart on m’cock?”

You were so full of him. Even more so when he throws your legs over his shoulders, bending all the way down and folding you in half so easily beneath him. 

He drinks in the barely-lucid squeal that leaves your swollen lips. Kissing your forehead gently, whispering against the skin, “Because I’ve wanted this for so fucking long.”

And then it was like something snapped - maybe his sanity, maybe the restraint that Choso’s been holding back for too long. Because immediately he’s plunging his throbbing cock into you - all the way till his balls, all angry and squeezing so painfully, smacks against your ass. 

“Wanted this.” he rasps into your open mouth. His hips were out of control now, thrusting you in shallow, desperate rams. Pounding into you like a man possessed, and running his mouth just as much. He laces his fingers on top of your head, pushing you down even deeper into his relentless cock - as if the bastard wasn’t fucking you dumb already. “Fuckin’ needed this needed this. Shit- so bad.”

“Ch-Choso- fuck hah-” you plead as his mouth clashes with yours. All sloppy with teeth and spit and his profanities - and it felt so damn good. 

“Yeah? Who’s fucking you silly, now?” he’s going harder now, tip hitting your poor cervix over and over. And you’d be sobbing at the burn and the stretch but all you can think of is shit this is Choso - the kid you used to play hide and seek with. And now he seems fully intent on breaking you. “Say m’name.”

A rough thumb starts toying with your clit, in time with the cute lil’ whines of his name that escape your mouth like a prayer. “Shit. Y’look so pretty like this.” he babbles. “Gonna cry, pretty girl?” smirking down at the way you were too cockdrunk to even snap back, only looking up at him with delirious, teary eyes. “Be a crybaby for my cock?”

You’re tugging on his hair, thighs shaky and bucking upwards. “Cho-”

“Mhm?”

“W-wanna cum. Need you to fill m’up till I can’t take it anymore.”

Oh if Choso was any lesser man he’d have cum right then and there. Instead settling for a guttural groan, drunk off the way you were milking his cock so hard as if to prove your point. It almost made him want to stay like this forever. But no - not right now. 

“Oh yeah?” Hips becoming sloppy now, “Need it? Shit- m’so close.” Each word slurred, punctuated by a harsh thrust, strokes long and frenzied. Using your heavenly pussy like his personal fucktoy. So hard that he’s sure you’d have embarrassing matching bruises tomorrow - his balls on your ass, your nails raking down his shoulders.

“Me too- fuck fuck fuck-” you mewl into his neck, as Choso buried his face into yours. 

“Cum f’me, my girl.”

My girl. 

And then you are - and he is. And you don’t know who cums first, just that you’re seeing stars behind your eyes and Choso’s teeth digging into your neck as he thrusts once. Twice. Before cumming and cumming so hard he might as well have seen the pearly gates of heaven. And you were an angel.

Thick, hot ropes of cum that paint your walls white, so much that it gushes out of your poor overfilled pussy. Dripping down your legs and pooling into a sinful, creamy ring at his base. 

“Mm- shit. Choso.” you moan, barely audible over the lewd squelches from below. 

“M’here, my girl.” he grits out, voice shot. And it seems that that was his new favorite nickname, because Choso keeps murmuring it over and over as he keeps fucking his seed into you. Not even thinking about it at this point - just mindless, shallow grinds of his hips. 

In the haze of your orgasm, you think you hear his quiet voice, strained with exhaustion and something that you weren’t in the right state of mind to decipher right now. 

“Shhh, m’here. “Can’t believe I waited so fuckin’ long.” Whispering against your lips, “Love this. Love this pretty cunt.” Kissing softly, “Love the way y’take me. Fuckin’ made f’me.” And maybe even a soft little, “Love you.”

And maybe - just maybe, you whisper the same into his. Kissing him softly, exactly the way you’d wanted to all these years. 

Neither of you speak after that. Not when Choso’s hips stall, body sticky and collapsing onto yours. Nor do you speak when he pulls away with a playful nip to your lower lip - a promise. Searching through your clothes for a washcloth he can wipe yourselves clean with. 

It’s only when he settles back under the covers beside you, looking at you with such dark, hazy eyes - whirling with too many emotions to name - that the silence is broken. 

“Crybaby.”

“Cho.”

“Corny.”

“You started it.”

Chuckling, Choso pulls your body close to his. Not even a hair’s breadth between you two because shit now that he’s got you, he doesn’t think he ever wants to let you go. 

“Y’know…” he starts, “I think we should- I mean- if you want…” nervous now more than he was even after all that just transpired. Cheeks flaring as he meets your amused gaze, just daring him to go on - because you saw through him. You always did. “I lov-”

“Am I late for the mov- WHAT THE FUCK I ALWAYS KNEW BRATS WEREN’T JUST FRIENDS-”

---

Itadori Family Groupchat + Two More

Dad: Hey, all. I can’t seem to get a hold of Choso to confirm tomorrow’s dinner plans. Can anyone else let me know if he’s ok? XX

-Jin.

Yuji <3: He’s probs at rhat “best friend movie night” still 

Dad: Hello, Yuji. What is a “probs”? XX

-Jin.

Kugisaki: He’s suspiciously quiet, though… Y’all think that “best friend movie night” is codeword for something else? 

Yuji <3: Better not be cuz Sukuna stole my sparw key sayin something ab crashing it idk

Kugisaki: *spare

And you just LET him?

Yuji <3: HE THREATENED TO BURN MY MEGAN THEE STALLION POSTER 

…

AND DID IT ANYWAY

Kugisaki: L

Fushiguro: L

Gramps: L

Sukuna (do not answer): DID Y’ALL KNOW THOSE TWO WERE FUCKIN????

*Fushiguro has left the chat*

Dad: :0

-Jin.

A/N. Spiritually, this is a crackfic idk.

[nanaslutt]

Giving bf Takuma a massage (gone wild)

ʚ cont: fem reader, dirty talk, first time, prostate massage, fingering, masturbation, switch!reader & switch!takuma

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ ࿔

"You're the love of my life you know that right?" Takuma spoke muffled as he lay on his bed on his stomach, shirtless and waiting. You couldn't help but smile at him, it was just a massage, but Ino couldn't help but praise you for even the smallest things you did. "I love you too baby." You smiled down at him, swinging your leg over his body as you sat down on the back of his thighs, running a single finger from the top of his spine to the dimple in the middle of his back.

You watched his back arch under the small movement, goosebumps rising on his skin. "I'm gonna fall asleep in two seconds if you keep touching me like that, then I won't even be able to enjoy it." You shook your head as you leaned over him and grabbed the massage oil from the nightstand, popping the cap off as you spoke, "That's the point of a massage, Takuma." You turned the bottle upside down and hovered it over his back, speaking again before he could respond, "Might be a little cold."

You squeezed the bottle, watching the clear liquid drip onto his toned back. A hiss fell from between his teeth as he tensed his body before relaxing. "Cold." He said, his fingers uncurling from the fist he balled them in. " Told you, now be quiet." Takuma made a sound of understanding just as you placed your fingers in the oil that pooled on his back, rubbing it in small circles before you added your other hand.

His skin was so hot, that the oil warmed to him immediately. You wet both your hands in the oil and started rubbing it over the expanse of his back with gentle pressure, a soft sigh slipping between Ino's lips as you caressed his body. "Love yer hands," He slurred, his cheek squished against the pillow as he lay with his head facing the side.

"I barely even started." You said just as you dragged your hands to the top of his back and pressed down under his shoulder blades, working out the muscles there first. "I know, love when you touch me." He responded, shifting a bit when you started the massage, making the towel you were sitting on that covered his butt and lower thighs pull down a bit.

The towel was Ino's idea, of course, the man insisting he strip down to nothing to be as authentic as possible, always with the dramatics. Ino groaned shamelessly when you put some of your weight on your knees and kneaded your hands into his back with your body weight. "Too much?" You asked, not letting up the pressure until he told you otherwise. "No, don't stop. Feels good." He almost slurred, his eyes shut in bliss. His body was relaxing more and more by the second.

You smiled a bit at that, he was always so vocal with his thoughts. He would make a horrible prisoner, you thought, spilling all the secrets he knew without thinking twice. You caressed his sides, sliding your hands down until you reached his waist before you pressed them against his lower back, making small circles where the hem of his boxers usually sat. Ino's back arched when you pressed there, a sharp intake of breath heard through his nose.

You knew there was nothing inherently sexual about this, but your boyfriend was making the same noises he usually made in bed and his body was bending and responding to your touch alone, it was hard to not let your thoughts wander. "Feel good right here?" You asked, adding more pressure to the bottom of his spine. Ino just nodded, his eyebrows furrowing together in pure bliss. His body was so slack under you.

You massaged his body until he was mush under your fingers, spending extra time on his shoulders because the pleasured noises were too good to miss. You had one trick up your sleeve you knew was gonna put him to sleep fully. Curling your fingers, you started at the top of his shoulders before slowly caressing his skin with your nails, gently, barely even touching him. The response was immediate, Ino's whole body shook when he realized what you were doing, making the towel you were sitting on move a bit, exposing a few inches of his smooth booty.

It would be so easy to take a bite right now. Tempting as it was, it would ruin all your work on making him so relaxed and pliant, so you averted your eyes, but made no move to pull up the towel. The eye candy was welcomed. "Spiderssss," Ino sighed when you started gently tickling your nails down his back, the goosebumps making an appearance again. "Knew you would love this." You giggled, watching the corner of his mouth curl into a satisfied smile.

You scratched your nails gently down the expanse of his back, over his sides, up back, and over his shoulders before descending lower down his back. At this point, he was so unresponsive you were sure he had fallen asleep. You continued drawing shapes and patterns on his back with your dull nails as you let your eyes fall back down to his ass, the little bit that wasn't covered by the towel.

Sliding your hands down, you pulled the towel back on the other side, the top of his ass exposed, and still, there was no response from Takuma. A smile forced its way onto your face as you started tickling your nails on his ass, the same as you did with his back. "Why does that feel so good?" Ino slurred, making you laugh at how sleepy he sounded. You were sure he was asleep, but you were glad he had no intentions of putting an end to your fun.

With his pleased response, you pulled the towel down completely, resting it where your thighs met the bottom of his ass. "My butt is cold now," Ino complained. "Not for long." You responded, picking up the oil and dripping some onto his skin, watching it slide down the outside of his ass. Ino tensed, the sight making you stifle your laugh. "You're cruel for not giving me a warning," Ino said, a little more coherently now that the shock of the cold oil had startled him.

"You're fiiine, just wait till I get my hands on your ass." You teased, rubbing your hands together and smirking at him as he cracked his eye open and peered down at you. "You sound so mischievous when you talk about my ass, baby." He closed his eyes and smiled just as you placed your hands on him, massaging the surprisingly plump backside of him. How he grew an ass like this you had no idea, but you were endlessly envious.

You massaged him in circles, working out the nonexistent knots, enjoying yourself with this most unnecessary massage. It was hard to not focus on what was between his ass each time you massaged your hands outwards, but you forced yourself to watch the muscles in his back ripple instead. You dragged your hands back up his body, his skin endlessly hot under your fingertips. "Shit," Ino breathed when you dug the heels of your hands into his back as you slid them up and down.

You were more confident bringing your hands back down to his ass now that you've crossed that line. Not that it was a line you were worried about crossing in the first place. Ino made it abundantly clear that his body belonged to you. You wondered if that sentiment extended to the little hole between his legs you always wanted to say hello to.

You slid your hands over his ass and rubbed your thumbs into the dimples of his lower back, bending your body over him as he arched and groaned at the contact. He nuzzled you with the side of his head as you placed a tender kiss against his oily skin, another on his neck, and finished with his cheek before you pulled back and continued pressing into his skin. "Love you so fucking much." Takuma groaned, making your heart swell in your chest.

"Love you too," You responded, placing your hands back on his butt. Scooting down his thighs you leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of his ass, making him laugh quietly. "Love this peach, too." You smiled, sliding back up his thighs. "Yeah?" He teased, wiggling his ass up at you. If only he knew how much he was really tempting you right now, he would clench his cheeks and run for the hills. "Mhm," You responded, bringing your thumbs closer to the inside of his ass purposefully before you massaged him in circles.

Ino went quiet again, his breathing steady, the occasional breath or light, barely there groan falling from between his lips. You spread him open just a bit more than before, exposing his hole. "Feels dangerous when you do that," Ino said, his words soft. You were glad your center was hovering between his legs, or he would feel just how much you were twitching for him. "What? This?" You teased, spreading him open more boldly now that he pointed it out.

Ino shifted his body under you, his ass tensing a bit before he relaxed. "Yeah, I know you're getting an eyeful right now." He smiled, his eyes still shut. "It's not the worst view in the world." You shrugged, bringing your thumbs dangerously close to his hole as you spread him open. Ino hissed at that, his ass clenching under your hands. "Baby…" He whispered, almost shyly.

You had to close your eyes and take a deep breath before you responded, already knowing the direction you wnated to take this. "Hm? What is it, tamuka?" You teased, feigning innocence as you slid one of your hands up his back, the thumb of your other hand finally making contact with his hole. You barely applied any pressure, but you still felt how he tightened at the contact. You swallowed hard, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth as you felt his breathing increase, your hand moving up and down faster against his back.

"Feels weird, babe." He responded. You slowly rubbed your thumb in circles against his hole, your other hand massaging his mid-back, trying to distract him a bit. "Do you want me to stop?" You asked, silently praying to every god that would listen that he wouldn't ask you to stop. Takuma was silent for a while, soaking in your touch before he laughed, "Should've known you were up to something when you started touching my ass." You laughed in return, "It's hard to resist."

"Got me all relaxed so you could stick a finger in my butt," You smiled at that, dragging your other hand back down his body and grabbing the oil. "I don't hear you telling me to stop," You countered, pulling his ass cheek to the side as you popped the cap and let some of the oil drizzle on top of your thumb that was pressed against his hole. "I'm nervous, I'll tell you that," Takuma responded. The two of you haven't talked much about anal play on his end, never going farther than jokes about it.

"We can try it out, and if you hate it I'll stop immediately." You assured him, rubbing the new oil against his ass. You listened to him release a shaky breath as he shifted his hips against the bed. Likely in what he thought was a subtle shifting motion, but you knew he was trying to relieve his undoubtedly hard dick that was pressed between his stomach and the bed. The wind blowing too strongly made this man's dick hard.

"Fuck…" Ino breathed, contemplating while you continued to massage his cheek with one hand, circling his rub with the other. You knew he needed a little guidance, so you decided to start things off and he knew to speak up if he didn't want this. "Spread your legs a little wider," You instructed, smiling when he did so immediately. "I feel like a virgin," Ino joked, the side of his face that was visible to you practically glowing with how red he was.

"I mean, you are when it comes to this spot," You responded, pushing harder on the puckered hole and meeting resistance. Ino arched his back, his lip twitching in what looked like uncertainly. "Is this how you felt?" He asked. Ino always got talkative when he was nervous, and you would gladly distract him and talk him through it if that's what he needed right now.

"I mean, a little. It wasn't bad when you found my sweet spot." You said, reaching down with your other thumb and forcing his hole to open a bit for you. "S-shit," He cursed when you pressed the tip of your thumb in, "I h-have one of those back here, don't I?" Takuma questioned. "Uh-huh, you men were born for a little booty fingering," You joked, hoping your light-hearted tone would help him through the hardest of this.

He laughed a bit before grinding his hips into the comforter again. "My dick fucking huuurts," He whined, his breath coming out choppy, and panted as you pressed your thumb deeper, feeling how tight he was around you. "Did someone say you couldn't touch yourself orr?" You teased, looking around mockingly. Ino scoffed, his hole relaxing a bit, giving you a good opportunity to fully put your thumb inside him.

"It's kinda h-hard when I move I can really feel your finger in there." You smiled before pulling out fully, laughing when his whole body relaxed with the lack of intrusion. "You're supposed to feel it. Just wait till I find your prostate, you'll really wanna feel that." You knew the general area in which it was supposed to be, you just really wished you would be able to find it or this experience would be a flop.

Ino took the reprieve of your finger in his ass to thrust his hips into the mattress a few times, groans and sighs slipping from his lips as you worked on oiling up your fingers. "You look good like that," You praised, watching him tense again and stop his humping when you placed your middle finger against his hole and pressed in hard, his rim opening up more easily. "Used to fuck my pillow before you came a-around, fuck, remember why I liked it so much," Ino tried to joke while his breaths came heavier.

"Breathe, baby, I can't go deep if you're so tense," You cooed, leaning over him and pressing a kiss to the middle of his back as you thrust your finger inside him. "Shiiiit, shit, shit, fuck I really feel it baby," Takuma babbled, squeezing around your finger. "You okay?" You asked, keeping your finger still as you peppered his skin with more kisses.

"Yeah, fuck," He laughed, "Feels so fucking weird." You smiled, glad he wasn't hating this so far. "Good, just need to find that little spot now…" You thought out loud, circling your finger downwards where you thought it was supposed to be. Takuma let out a loud gasp, his hips thrusting forward on their own. Okay, well. You found it a lot sooner than you thought. Silently giving yourself a fistbumb you sat up so you could watch his face and body respond.

"Was that it?" You asked, making sure he wasn't in pain. "T-think so, shit, what the hell was that? Never felt anything like that." He sighed, his breaths now coming in quick pants. "Your prostate, baby." You said just as you curled it again, thrusting forward a bit as you did. "Oh holy fuuck," Ino groaned, his body tensing as he gripped the sheet in his hand, his knuckles turning white.

You pulled your finger back before pushing it back in, curling at the same time. The moan Ino let out was unrestrained and made you throb between the legs. "Feel good?" Ino just nodded his head as you curled it again, the muscle in his jaw clenching and unclenching as you fingered him. You reached over with your free hand and laced your fingers with his, which he immediately laced back, holding onto you for dear life.

You kissed the back of his hand before sitting up and curling your finger over and over again, not going too fast but setting a good pace. Each time you moved, a moan was forced from his throat, no matter how much he wanted to keep it down. "S-slower please," You listened as soon as he got the words out, noticing his body relax when you thrust and curled a bit slower. "That's fucking intense," Ino sighed, his shoulders heaving with his pants.

"Yeah? What's it feel like?" You asked curiously, pulling your finger almost all the way out before pressing it back in, making him whine. "Feels like your… inside my dick, but also my stomach, like… a fire." His description was so bad it made you laugh out loud. "Hey, you asked." He shrugged. "You think you can cum like this?" You asked, pressing against his prostate and keeping your finger there, rubbing it in circles. Ino gripped your hand tightly, muffled groans getting blocked by his teeth as he was forced to take the pleasure you gave him.

"W-ith out my d-dick?" He forced out, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as his back arched. "Yeah," You responded, picking up the pace a bit as you began thrusting again. "D-don't know, fuck fuck, m-maybe," You were about to encourage him when you angled your finger down more and pressed harder, keeping the pace but adding more pressure. "Oh fuck!" Ino practically yelled, his body trying to curl in on itself. "Oh fuck, do that again," He begged, shaking your hand, whether he knew he was doing it or not you didn't know.

You obeyed right away, licking your lips as you aimed your finger for that sweet spot deep in his ass and abused it. "Yes- oh- my god- yesyesyes," Ino groaned from between his teeth, you couldn't speak, you were so turned on you couldn't focus on anything but him and his reactions. Ino stated thrusting his hips against the mattress, matching the pace of your fingers while thrusting himself back on your finger at the same time. "Baby, babybaby," He was babbling, his words barely coherent.

"I'm right here Takuma, I got you, do what feels good I got you," You managed to get out through the intense brain fog. His pleasure seemed to go from 0-100 in just a few moments, and you were eating it up. Ino reached behind him with his other hand and gripped your wrist tightly, his other hand unlocking it from your own fingers as he leaned on his side and reached for his cock--his cock that looked so red and so wet it looked painful. It looked like he already came.

"Keep going, close," He grit out, furiously jerking himself off as you quickly adjust to the new angle of him on his side, thrusting your finger in his tightening hole. His abs and leg muscles were spasming and jerking with your every movement. His eyebrows rose up as he nodded his head, his jaw falling open, drool spilling from the side of his lips. "Harder, h-harder, cumming im, Im- fuck!" Takuma barely got his words out before his body was curling in on itself as cum flooded over his fingers, making a mess of his hand and the sheets next to him.

You continued working his ass, forcing out every last drop of cum from his balls. You didn't stop moving your finger until he gripped your wrist will his full strength, mumbling something about it being too much. You slowly pulled out, the movement making him hiss, his body tensing before he went lax like a pile of jello. You wiped your hand on the bed next to you before pushing his shoulder down so he was lying on his back. His eyes were still screwed shut, his hand gripping the base of his dick hard even as it started to soften.

Stradling his hips you held his face in your hands, kissing his brow and eyelids and he fought to catch his breath. "Holy fuck," he cursed, finally releasing his dick and letting his hand fall aside, his eyes opening. His gaze looked unfocused as he stared up at you like you hung the stars in the sky. "Holy fuck is right, that was so hot," You smiled, caressing his cheek as he leaned into it like a cat. "Uh, huh, thought I was gonna die with how hard I came," He teased, though it did look like a big one.

"You gonna let me finger ur ass now?" Ino wiggled his eyebrows at you, his teasing demeanor coming back fast. "Hell no, nice try though. If I ever grow a prostate, I'll let you know." Ino pouted dramatically, sitting up to bury his head in the crook of your neck. "Fine… but give me a couple of minutes to recover and I'll eat your pussy real good," His casual dirty words made you clench around nothing as you nodded, cradling his head against you. "Sounds good to me."

[soft-beams]

halloooo can I request a short fic of modern au college vi x reader, reader is vi's room mate and a nursing student that needs to review for her exams and memorize human anatomy and what the muscles are called. Since Vi is pretty fit she comes up with this joke that she can write the muscle names on Vi's body, and Vi surprisingly agrees to it and I'll leave the rest up to u :3

this was so much fun to write! thank you, anon, i'm buzzing.

college roommates!vi x reader, modern au, nursing student!reader, rated m

You knew this would be a bad idea.

You were highly aware of it when you thought of it, and even more so when you asked. But you didn't know what else to do, and honestly, you had always been a visual learner.

Plus Vi was your roommate and was always talking about if you needed any help, you should never hesitate to ask her.

But asking for help like this was...bold...and brave...and maybe a little bit stupid.

Even if you did initially joke about it because this was never supposed to come to fruition.

There was no turning back now, though.

"So you just want me to take off my shirt?" Vi asks, both of you stood in the middle of your living room. She's looking at you, inquisitive, and you manage a nod while trying to find your voice.

Which is hard, considering you're so close to seeing Vi with her shirt off. Which isn't new because Vi walks around shirtless all the time. She basically lives in her sports bra when she's at home, but this is different.

You'll be getting up close and personal with a shirtless Vi. Running your fingers over her defined muscles as you memorise them. Feeling the heat of her skin against yours because she always runs hot. It's tricky territory that you're falling into, especially considering your preexisting feelings for the woman in front of you.

Damn you and your stupid jokes.

Damn Vi for entertaining your stupid jokes and making them real.

You watch as Vi takes her shirt off in that infuriatingly attractive way. Both of her hands crossed at the hem of her shirt before pulling it over her head. Your eyes are instantly drawn to her abs and the flex of her arms and you may not survive this.

Vi smiles at you, pretty and gorgeous, and so beautiful it hurts and spreads her arms open as if saying come at me.

The gesture makes you snort but also has you feeling a little warm. Especially with how her muscles shift beneath her skin at every move she makes. It's so hypotising.

"Okay, so I'm gonna write on you, and I'm gonna get real close because anatomy," you explain lamely, but Vi nods, listening seriously. "If you get uncomfortable or it's too much, then just tell me, and we'll stop."

Vi nods again, smiling. "Thanks, sweetheart. But I highly doubt that will be a problem." She says and you hum, curious.

"And why's that?" You asks, uncapping a washable marker and nearing Vi's left bicep.

Vi shrugs, turns her head away for a second, and when you glance at her face, you swear you see a hint of pink across her cheeks.

"Because it's you," she murmurs, quiet but loud enough for you to hear and oh.

"I see," you mumble, all warm on the inside and without an answer to give.

You take your time memorising Vi's body, writing down scientific names over the correct parts, and changing up the marker's colour to add fun to it.

Vi seems genuinely interested in what you're doing, even asking questions that help with your memorisation. The once tender atmosphere is light with your chatter and laughter, both of you smiling as you go through anatomy together.

Running the tip of the marker over Vi's collarbone has her squirming because she's ticklish, and you can't help but write over the bone again. You do it twice more, grinning as Vi tells you to knock it off. You tell her you won't, and she makes you swear, but that lasts for about ten seconds before you're back to it.

"You're such a jerk!" Vi exclaims, laughing as she tries to snatch the marker from you. But you're fast, and you end up dancing away from her as she attempts to grab at it.

"How can you not grab this from me?" You tease as you dodge another one of her reaches. "And you work out way more than me. This is an embarrassing moment for you."

Vi growls (oh, that's an interesting noise), and you squeal as she lunges with a speed she hadn't bothered to showcase until now. Your attempt at dodging is pathetic, and Vi has an arm around your waist as she presses you against the living room wall. Her other arm has its hand wrapped around your marker-wielding wrist and trapped above your head.

"You were saying how this was embarrassing for me?" Vi murmurs, sounding triumphant, and you'd hit back with a snarky retort but you can't because your tongue is tied.

Vi's pressed up against you, chest to chest, skin to skin, and she's so warm. Her face is mere inches away from yours, the tip of her nose almost touching yours, and you can see just how blue her eyes are. Just how red her lips are and how plump they look.

Your eyes dart up from her lips, and you catch Vi doing the same. That has your head spinning, seeing that she's also looking at you like that.

Like she wants to...

"Vi," you whisper for no reason you can decipher. You don't know why you're calling her name, but all you know is that you're burning up, and your heart is beating too loudly in your ears.

But then Vi takes that leap, lets loose a soft whimper before whispering, "Can I...? Please can I...?"

You're nodding your head faster than you can speak, but Vi's on your lips before you can even say yes.

The way she kisses you has your knees weakening. Her lips are surprisingly soft and taste like the strawberries she ate with her lunch. The inside of her mouth is even sweeter, and she echoes your moan as her arm around your waist tigthens. Her hand holding yours against the wall comes down to grasp your chin, tilting your head to the side to deepen the kiss and ah.

You pull away for air, cheeks flushed, and vision hazy as Vi trails open-mouth kisses down your neck. Your hands slide into her hair, nails grazing over her scalp, and you gasp as her deep groan sinks to your skin.

Then she's making her way back to your mouth, and you pull her in greedily, allowing her to lift you up so your legs wrap around her waist.

"Sweetheart," Vi rasps, managing to pull away for a moment. She barely resists you drawing her in for another kiss, your hands cradling her cheeks. "Sweetheart, what about your exams? I wouldn't—wouldn't want you to fail and—?"

"Vi," you say breathlessly, resting your index finger over her lips. "Pretty girl, what's another way for one to learn about anatomy?"

Vi looks at you before the blues of her eyes darken further, and she's nipping at your jaw.

"I can think of one way."

[sanatomis]

⋆౨ৎ˚ ──── 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐔𝐒𝐄.

it's been on your mind for a while now. and, even though he's a little confused at first, it takes satoru very little time to warm up to your enticing offer.

დ content. fr3e use kink, cursing, female!reader, fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, consensual somnophilia, deepthroating, cum-swallowing, mentions of satoru eating it from the back <3

დ notes. second attempt at posting this on tumblr, don't mind me. it's crossposted on ao3 bc my previous attempts at posting all failed miserably (it never showed in the tags ://)

Satoru is confused. It doesn’t take you much time to notice that your softly spoken words have him quite rattled, as the results of them can so clearly be observed on his face. There’s his nose that scrunches up cutely, and a little tilt of his head to the left which comes accompanied by a few snowy strands of hair shifting across his forehead. A small furrow of his brows, the soft gnawing on his bottom lip. He’s thinking about it; mulling over your offer. 

Three times, he tries to say something. His mouth opens once, twice, and it’s futile. Not a word escapes, and he takes a sharp intake of breath. You almost believe that, if you weren’t currently seated opposite him, he’d smack the side of his head a few times to make sure it’s still screwed on right. 

“So, I just. . .” The third time really is the charm, it seems. Though, he never quite manages to finish what he was going to say. 

“Just put it in, yeah.” 

You finish it for him, you’re sweet like that. It does really seem as if he could use the help.

“Wh—whenever I. . .” 

There’s a little voice in your head, chiming and chattering about how all of this is weird. It makes you nervous, and your fingers itch to play with your necklace to fight it. 

“Whenever you want,” you confirm. It’s as if your heart has suddenly moved to your throat. 

“Wha—what if you’re asleep?”

“I said whenever you want, didn’t I?” 

He almost lets out a little squeak at the words you so casually give him. They surprise him, as they do you. Your last sentence wasn’t one spoken by your mind, and you shift in your seat as if it’d shush the part of you that did. 

It’s as if you’re telling him what you’d eaten for breakfast this morning, not giving him permission to slip, bully and sheat his cock into your needy cunt at any given time of the day. Without needing to ask, too. Satoru can fill you up, stuff you full, and dump so much of his cum into you until you’re overflowing, and he can do it whenever he feels the need to—because he’s Satoru, and you love your Satoru.

“Are you sure?” He asks, a hint of apprehension laces his voice. Your heart almost swells at his concern, at his hesitancy and need to confirm your wishes; even if you’ve vocalised them so bluntly. “Maybe, think about it for a little long—” 

“I have,” you interrupt him. As gentlemanly as he’s being, there’s no mistaking the darkening of his eyes. The pretty, baby-blues making way for something sinister. You suddenly don’t feel so nervous anymore. “I have thought about it. Way too much, and for way too long.” 

A string of curse words tumble past his lips. They’re hushed, and quick, and from the way he, too, shifts in his seat you gather that he’s hard. Painfully so, if the bulge forming in his pants is anything to go by. Your relationship has existed long enough for you to know that drops of his pre-cum are staining the fabric of his boxers already—always so messy, your Satoru. The mere thought has you wanting to take him out, to put him in your mouth and lap at the sticky, white beads falling down his length. 

“Please,” you plead softly, and watch how he stifles a groan at the needy, saccharine sound of it. You want more, more of that sound. Right next to your ear, preferably. “Use me, Satoru.” 

There’s little you want more than that, little that arouses you more than that. The thought of Satoru taking you whenever he wishes, abiding by his whims and allowing him free-reign over your body—it instils a heat into your stomach, into your core. It makes you feel filthy, like a cheap whore picked up from the street; but you’d be his whore, and suddenly it all starts to feel like a dream. It’s Satoru. Satoru, Satoru, Satoru. He’ll be gentle, and he’ll be kind, and he’ll stop as soon as you utter your safeword, and he’ll love you so much, even if he fucks you as if he doesn’t. 

You have half a mind to ask him again, to plead, to beg for it again, as it almost feels as if he didn’t quite hear you. But, as soon as you open your mouth to do so, he immediately latches his lips onto yours. It’s messy, and sloppy, and entirely fueled by the frantic state his mind is currently in—but you don’t complain, and never will. 

His hands are everywhere and nowhere all at the same time, and you feel him almost buzzing with excitement. Your teeth clash against one another at the force of the kiss, your tongues greedily seek the other out, and saliva gets swapped from your mouth to his, and vice versa. It’s dirty, and sticky, and almost brings you back to your high-school years, when he’d been all clumsy hands and feigned confidence on the night you’d lost your virginity to each other. 

Satoru pulls back from your kiss first, and a small smile falls over his lips when he notices you chasing him. “Wait a minute, sweets,” he murmurs, forehead against yours. His breathing is heavy, as is yours, and you don’t want to wait a minute—you want him, now, tomorrow, and each day after that. “Are you. . .” He chuckles when you kiss him again, and again, and again. You only stop when he holds your head in place. “Are you completely sure about this?” 

You blink up at him, eyes wide and lips swollen. “Mhm,” you hum, and caress his cheekbone with one of your thumbs. Satoru melts in your hold, as he always seems to do. “‘S you, ‘Toru. I’m completely sure when it’s you.” 

He lets out a shaky breath. There’s a storm of emotion behind his eyes, but all of them point to the same conclusion—he loves you. So much, you might even get sick of it one day; he’d told you as a joke, one born out of fear. But you won’t. You never will. And you think he’s starting to realise it, finally. 

“Okay,” he whispers, and kisses your forehead. 

It’s delicate, and loving, and so opposite from the way he buries himself into you over, and over, and over again a mere five minutes after that. Satoru’s needy, and impatient, and so pent-up from your previous conversation that foreplay gets thrown out of the window. 

He bends you over the couch first, that cute little ass of yours jiggling right in front of his face as he mounts you from behind. He slips in easily, with a pussy as wet as yours, and a cock as leaky and hard as his—the lack of foreplay almost goes unnoticed. Almost, of course, as the sheer size of him never fails to elicit a hint of a burn as he stretches you out. Nevermind that you take his cock daily, or that your walls are bound to carry his shape after the many years you spend with him. 

The sounds that decorate your apartment are filthy, lewd, and borderline obscene, but you’re thoroughly obsessed with them. The slapping of his balls against your ass, the squelching with each passing thrust, the deep groans and choked whimpers Satoru releases next to your ear just like you wanted. Even your own moans, your own babbles, and your own whines add to the experience; the combination of sounds. And you love it, because it’s you, and it’s Satoru—and it’s the two of you together. 

It doesn’t end after Satoru cums, nor does it after you do. The agreement between the two of you that was made tonight seems to have done a number on him, and he takes you a second time. On the balcony, where he puts you on display for the world to see as he fills you over and over again. And a third time, in your shared bed that’s never been safe from his affection and blatant desire towards you. And a fourth time, in the shower that was initially meant to clean you up, he decides to dirty you even further. 

If this is the reaction he gives to the mere idea of using you whenever he pleases, you long for the time that he actually does.

It’s well past midnight when Satoru finally decides he’s done with you. You’re curled into his side, a shirt that’s way too large for you (but one that you swore you didn’t steal from him) covers your figure. You’re asleep. Tired, exhausted, and completely knocked out. He smiles. You’re so cute. A love-sick expression is stuck to his face, and it may very well become permanent if he stays looking at you. 

One of his fingers reaches in-between your thighs, gently scooping up the remnants of his release. Satoru almost coos at the way your nose scrunches up cutely when he starts to finger it back into your pussy. It allows his digits to slip easily through your folds, and she sucks them in as soon as he reaches your hole. His cum doesn’t leak out this time. Not yet, anyway, but even if it does, he’s more than willing to repeat the process. 

He sighs. Mind full of thoughts, but at least his balls are empty now. There’s a little huff escaping his lips, and he’s amused at his own comment. Satoru shakes his head, but the small smile remains nonetheless. Strong, yet gentle arms pull your body tighter against him. 

You’re delicate, and sweet, and so precious to him; and he will do his best to take care of you. Use me, use me, use me. He kisses your forehead, his own eyes falling shut. 

He will most certainly try to. 

The very first time Satoru entertains the idea of indulging in your offer, is on a day where you’ve decided to wear his favourite lipgloss. It’s so shiny, such a cute shade, and makes you look so beautiful, but above all—it’s sticky. It’s sticky, and easily smudged, and he knows from experience that everything feels so much filthier when he steals a kiss from you with it on. 

Without meaning to, thoughts of you wrapping those glossed lips around his dick, creating a mess made-up of spit, cum, tears, and thus that delightful stickiness from your lipgloss, enters his mind. The coloured shade will leave a perfect ring around his length, there’s no doubt in his mind. Your pretty face will be all dirty, smudged stains near the corners of your mouth courtesy of his fat cock. You will be a sight for sore eyes. 

You’re talking to him, but Satoru can’t seem to listen. He’s enamoured by your lips, your soft-looking, plumb, and very glossed lips. He briefly feels pathetic, knowing that a mere make-up item has the ability to make his head spin to such a degree—but he doesn’t, as he quickly realises it only does so because it’s you that’s wearing it. 

Fuck, he really wants to stuff his cock into your mouth. 

Five, six, almost seven seconds pass before the realisation kicks in. If he wants to put his cock in your mouth, then he can. Satoru’s body moves on its own before he gets a chance to think about his actions, as is often the case with him, and it's not long before his large hand finds its new home on the back of your head. He falters briefly, watching how you quiet down, how your eyes widen slightly, but continues as he’s doing when you make absolutely no move to stop him when he gently guides your head down, and down, and down—until you’re right where he wants you. 

A small gasp leaves your lips when he puts you on eye-level with his crotch. It’s quiet, and he almost didn’t hear it, but it makes him pause nonetheless. The hand on your head loosens its grip, and he hesitates as he looks down at you. 

“Is this oka—” 

The sentence never gets finished, forever interrupted by a sharp hiss as you take his cock out of his pants with such unabashed eagerness. It slaps against his abdomen, leaky tip staining the fabric of his shirt. Your previous conversation is all but forgotten, it seems, as you don’t waste a second in taking his hard, aching length almost entirely into your mouth. It all happens so quickly, and Satoru’s mind almost can’t keep up. All he did was think about filling your mouth, and now he’s actually doing it; the fat tip prodding near the back of your throat. 

His hands are shaky, he notices, and so is his breathing as a small whine escapes when one of your hands goes downwards to play with his balls. “Fuck!” he curses, caught by surprise at the boldness with which you reached for that part of him. In his startle, his hands return to the back of your head, and your words make their impromptu return to the very front of his mind. 

Use me. 

He will, then. 

Satoru isn’t at all gentle when he does. His fingers tangle into your hair, and he pushes you down onto his cock until your nose brushes against the soft, white hairs near his pelvis. Your poor little mouth is struggling, he can see, but he can’t seem to pay much mind to it; the sounds of you gagging around his thick length are too much of a pleasure to hear. The way he pushes you up-and-down nears the realm of brute force, and still you eagerly suck, and suck, and suck. 

A particularly loud groan echoes through the room when he steals a glance at your small form kneeling between his legs. It seems he knows you well; you are a sight for sore eyes like this. There are tears in your eyes, and some of them have already fallen down your hollowed cheeks; hollowed, to make space for him. Your mouth is filled to the brim with his cock, and even though he can see you fighting for breath, you never make an attempt at catching it—as if you wouldn’t dare to deprive him of the please your throat gives him. 

Satoru catches himself falling in love all over again. 

He fucks your face harder, and harder, and harder the closer he gets to the edge. Deep groans, and slurred curse words join your symphony of muffled moans, and his hold on your head slowly starts to falter. 

“‘M close, princess,” he mumbles, but that’s about all the warning he gives you. A few seconds later, he cums down your throat. He doesn’t ask, he doesn’t need to. Not because you’d given him permission to use you as he sees fit, but simply because he knows you’re utterly obsessed with him doing so. “Fuck, f—fuck, look a’you, hm? Gonna take all of it like a good girl? Don’t waste it, m’kay? S’all for, fuck, for you.” 

It’s something he’s done countless times before, but Satoru swears that each time he spills his cum down your throat feels better than the last. Thick, sticky ropes fill your mouth, and you hum around him when it keeps going, and going, and going. You’re struggling to take it all, and he huffs in amusement when bits of it start to drip down your chin. His thumb catches it, and he quickly places it back in your mouth, forcing you to open it wider to accommodate both the digit and his slowly softening cock. You happily do so. 

He pulls out of you shortly after, with his chest heaving as he recuperates. His entire focus is on you, you, and you as he watches you wipe your mouth and swallow the last of his seed. There’s a smile on your face. It’s kind, and gentle, and innocent; almost as if he hadn’t just fucked your mouth and dumped his release down your throat. Satoru is utterly bewitched as he watches you, captivated by all and every little thing you do, and he cooperates as you tuck him back into his pants. 

And then, as if nothing at all happened, you sit down next to him again—and you speak, you continue talking, finishing the story he’d interrupted with his need to be sucked off. Your voice is hoarse, and your cheeks are still stained with dried tears, but you pay neither of those facts any mind. It makes all of this look so. . . mundane. You were speaking, and then you were between his legs, and now you’re speaking again. 

Satoru’s heart starts to beat even faster for you. Fuck, that’s so hot. This time, he decides to try his very best to listen to your tale about some co-worker of yours that pissed you off this week. He pitches in every-now-and-then, adding a low ‘huh,’ or ‘mhm’ to keep you occupied, and he almost feels guilty—guilty, because all his adrenaline-filled mind can think about are the future possibilities of using you.

“And, wanna know what’s the worst thing about the situation? It was my idea to get donuts for everybody! That harlot didn’t even want them initially.” 

Satoru’s downward spiral is inevitable, and he finds himself falling victim to it more times than one would consider healthy in a mere seven days. He very quickly learns that he’s thoroughly obsessed with the notion that allows him to fill you up anywhere, and at any time. To him, it’s one of the highest honours. 

There’s such confidence, such unwavering faith encompassed in your view of him. There has to be, if you’re willing to allow him such a thing. Thinking about it almost causes a cute pink hue to colour his cheek. . .you really do trust him a lot, huh?

He’s never been able to tell you ‘no’ before, and he certainly isn’t about to start. So, he dutifully listens to you and abides by your delectable request. To satisfy you, of course. There’s absolutely no other reason for his actions, and the way he breaches your dripping cunt with his leaky tip, all while soft breaths leave your lips, and your pretty eyes are peacefully shut, is simply to indulge you. 

Use me. Use me. Use me. 

Satoru curses, the crude words that tumble past his lips being plenty colourful. One of his hands settles on your hip whilst the other hikes your (or rather his) shirt up to provide him with better access. It’s your fault, really, that he’s currently sporting one of the hardest boners of the century. You were waiting for him, weren’t you? Waiting for him to return and bury himself to the hilt in that sweet, sobbing pussy of yours. 

There’s no other reason for you to fall asleep with nothing but his shirt on. Not even panties covered your cute little cunt, your sticky folds fully on display and welcoming him home. Satoru wants to bury himself in it—in a multitude of ways if he’s being truly honest with himself. For now, though, he’ll stick to simply one. 

“Shh,” he coos into your ear, delicately rubbing soft circles into your upper thigh with his thumb. You whine faintly, feeling his cock fight its way past your walls. He splits you open, stretching you just wide enough to slip inside. Your nose scrunches up cutely, and he almost rouses you from your slumber.  “‘S me, really need you, baby.” 

And that’s all he has to say. It’s me. It’s your Satoru. A gentle whisper of those words, and he gets to use you as he pleases. All of his previous worries, all of the near-boiling anger he felt at his previous meeting with the higher-ups washes away as soon as he sinks himself balls-deep into your pussy. Satoru groans deeply at the feeling, and gentle, stuttered declarations of love are babbled into your ear with each slow drag of his cock along your walls. 

The garbled mesh of words that he deems too important not to say, even despite their poor enunciation, only ceases to exist a few minutes later—when he spills his heavy load into that sweet, sweet cunt of yours. No, into that sweet cunt of his. Because, that’s who it truly belongs to, no? It’s his, to use, to spoil, to worship. You’d offered it to him so kindly, after all. And, well, Satoru has never been the type of person to turn down a gift. 

. . . You unknowingly create a monster. It seems that even the mere idea of being allowed to use you as he pleases has him tip-toeing around the line of borderline insanity. As each time he sees you, he wants you. . .and each time he wants you, you let him. 

It doesn’t matter what you’re doing at that moment. Even if you’re speaking, and he suddenly feels the need, no, the simple want for a blowjob. And even if you’re asleep, resting after what must have been a long day, you still allow him to slip his aching cock into you to satisfy the craving he’s had for hours. 

Even if you’re busy setting the table, you don’t push him away, and you still allow him to bend you over the wooden surface, to sink to his knees and lick, suck, and kiss around his pretty pussy with his tongue. Simply because he wants to do it, and you really do so, too. 

. . .And even now, when you’re cooking dinner. 

There’s a certain cuteness about the way your brows scrunch in concentration, about the way you gently bite on your bottom lip as you prepare the food for the two of you; it nearly makes him feel guilty for feeling the secret desire to ruin such a lovely, innocent view. The word nearly is important, however, as he’s acutely aware of your need for him to do exactly that—and so, any sense of wrongdoing melts away, similar to snow underneath the sun.

He’s not quite sure what it is that you’re cooking, but it smells delectable. There’s an array of spices, herbs, and vegetables strewn around the counter, and Satoru knows he’ll be eating like a King in a few minutes. As for right now, though, there’s a different craving, a different type of hunger slowly making its way forward. He fears it won’t be one that’ll be sated by your lovely culinary skills. 

“Smells good, baby,” he mumbles. It doesn’t take him long to settle himself behind you, large hands gently coming to rest on your hips. He sighs in the crook of your neck, and nudges the skin with his nose. “What’cha making?” 

You answer. He knows you do, as he feels the vibrations of your voice underneath his lips, the soft hum feeling quite soothing as he kisses along the column of your throat, but Satoru can’t find it in himself to focus on the words you give him. His ever-loose hands roam eagerly down your body, and the previous loving, and delicate kisses along your neck turn sloppy, wet, almost, as Satoru dips one of his hands underneath the waistband of your panties. There’s a grin forming on his lips, one entirely too big and full of confidence. 

“‘M startin’ to think you’re just always wet for me, pretty girl,” he mumbles against the shell of your ear, fingers entirely coated in your slick the second he’d sunk them into your dripping cunt. 

Your cheeks heat up, and you try to stifle a moan when he, so very, very slowly starts to move his fingers in-and-out of you. “I—I am,” you admit, and clench around his digits just as he’s about to take them out; as if it’s a last resort to keep them inside. “F’you, Satoru. Just for you.” 

“Hm?” He hums, and almost huffs in amusement as he sees you trying to continue what you were doing so desperately, as if you weren’t being fucked on your husband’s fingers. Just for that—he rapidly thrusts his fingers back into you, harsher, deeper, and so much quicker. “Just for me, yeah, princess?” 

“Y—Ah! Yes, yes,” you squeak, one of your hands seeking out some semblance of support from the kitchen counter.  “Only for you.” 

There’s an embarrassing sound hitting your ears, as each thrust of his absurdly long fingers is accompanied by your wetness squelching around them. You struggle to speak, to breathe almost, as he fucks you on his fingers. Satoru stretches you out, curling his fingers to find the spot he knows will leave you with those pretty tears falling down your cheeks, and to hit it over, and over, and over again. 

There’s such a heat gathered between your legs, such a pleasurable source of warmth, and Satoru suppresses a groan as he’s once again made very aware of that fact when your walls clench around his digits. His cock twitches, and he lets out a shaky sigh as he grinds it against your ass. “You are, aren’t you? Hm? C’mon, baby, don’t be shy. . .be a little louder.”

You aren’t shy. You haven’t been for a while now. There’s a certain hotness in the way you moan so unabashedly, so utterly shamelessly whenever Satoru gets his hands on you in such a way—it’s as if you can’t ever get enough of him. It never fails to harden his cock even more, to make his balls feel achingly heavy until he ultimately empties them inside your tight little cunt. And you know so, which is exactly why you do it. 

“‘M not,” you rasp out, one of your hands coming to rest on his wrist. The back of your head falls against his shoulder as you choke on a moan, seeking some very necessary aid to stay upright. “Please, I. . .’Toru, please.”

In all honesty, Satoru isn’t quite sure what you’re begging for. He knows it’s one of two options: either to cum on his fingers, or for him to push his thick cock inside your pussy already. There’s no desire to ask, however—he’d much rather make that decision himself. The hand that wasn’t currently burying three of its digits knuckle-deep into your pussy busies itself with his belt-buckle. 

There’s a pitiful whine falling from your lips, one that’s released immediately upon the removal of his fingers from your cunt. “Shh,” he coos in your ear, instantly soothing your upcoming tantrum. You stifle the complaint you’d prepared for him, the feeling of his fat tip prodding near your too-eager hole quickly puts an end to it. “S’okay, pretty girl, just wanna feel you cum around my cock, s’all. . .Think you can do that for me?” 

You nod, and rapidly so. “Mhm,” you hum, and open your mouth when he presents it with his soiled fingers. You clean them, suckling around them until each bit of your sweetness is gone. “Want to—really wanna cum around your cock, ‘Toru.”

“Of course, you do,” he breathes, and captures a quick kiss. And another. And another. And one more. It makes you smile, and that, in turn, makes him smile. When he does pull back, there’s as much love as there is lust dancing in his eyes. “Wouldn’t have expected anything less of you, princess.”

Satoru is often greedy. There’s no such thing as savouring something with him—if he’s enjoying himself, he’ll be as gluttonous as he wishes. The exception is you, of course, as you always are to him. There’s no greater feeling than savouring you. It’s why he, more often than not, decides to fill you up slowly. To let his cock drag along your walls, to let your soothing warmth engulf him inch, by inch, by inch, until his firm balls press up against your ass. He does so this time, too. 

Your long, drawn-out moan as he fills you up slowly sounds as if it were gifted to him by the Heavens, and Satoru’s cock twitches inside when he hears you mutter a soft fuck as you struggle to adjust to him. It’s certainly not the first time you’ve taken his cock, but the sheer girth of him still stretches you out—as it always does. Your husband loves you dearly, however, and waits. . .one second, two seconds, three seconds, and he doesn’t get any further before his self-restraint falters. 

Satoru nearly pulls himself out of your cunt completely, only for him to fuck himself back inside so deeply—it has you place both palms of your hands on the counter to steady yourself. It startles you, as he hears you choke on a moan, but he continues. His movements are quick and rough, animalistic even, as he pounds into your cunt. 

“Sa—ngh, Satoru, wait, I. . .” You interrupt yourself with a moan, the feeling of his tip near your cervix too sharp for you to properly finish a sentence. He’s so deep. It feels as if he’s in your womb, in your stomach—it feels as if he’s everywhere. “Fuck, I. . .f—fuck, ‘Toru. . .”

 “Hm?” He breathes out, a groan slipping past his lips. “Want me to, fuck, you. . .” His rapid movements dial down. The self-control needed for it is enormous, but you’d asked him to wait—so he will. Some beads of pre-cum drip into your cunt, as if his cock was upset that he’d suddenly slowed down. “Wan’me to go slower, baby?”

“No,” There’s a small whine near the end of your sentence. It’s the absolute last thing you wanted him to do, even if you originally asked him to wait. “No, don’t, please, keep going. Need—need more.” You feel Satoru wrap both hands around your hips, as if he’s preparing for something. “Harder, please. . .”

“Harder?” He asks, and you don’t need to see him to know there’s currently a sense of smugness ruining his pretty face.  “How hard do you want it, huh, sweets?” 

Little more than the tip remains inside you, and there’s not a moment for you to mourn the loss of his entire girth—as all air leaves your lungs when he immediately thrusts back into you with a newfound vigour, with such force that it has you bend over the kitchen counter. 

“Like, ah, like this, huh? That how you want it, angel?”

You don’t answer—you’re not able to, as Satoru uses the entirety of his thick length to steal your ability to speak coherently. Once again, you’re acutely aware of the sheer size of your husband. Satoru is tall, and big, and he likely isn’t even aware of it. It certainly doesn’t seem so, as he heads no mind to the way your feet are starting to lift off the floor. Each deep thrust has you inching further up the counter; his hands on your hips nearly holding you up and off the floor as he rocks into you from behind. 

There’s little you can do, except take it. 

The kitchen is filled with sounds that definitely do not belong there. Your wetness is prominent, the sound of it borderline embarrassing, and Satoru’s balls slap against your skin with each thrust. He’s relentless, and you want to cry. The good kind of crying; the kind that often comes accompanied with mind-numbing pleasure. You hiccup, and sniff, and try your best to stabilise yourself against the counter. 

Though, your efforts prove futile once Satoru brings one of his hands to your front. You choke on a whimper as he cruelly pinches your clit, toying with it, flicking and rubbing it in the way he knows will get you off. 

“T—Toru,” you warn him. “I—I’m. . .”

“Mhm,” he hums in acknowledgement, not letting up even for a second. There’s a featherlight kiss pressed to your shoulder. “Me too, princess. S’okay, let, shit, let go for me, yeah?”

And because he’s Satoru—your Satoru, you comply. It hits you all at once, and you’re suddenly very grateful for both your husband holding you upright, and your expensive kitchen counter for adding some extra support. You’re still breathing heavily, coming down from your high, when Satoru hits his own. It’s a familiar feeling, but one you’ll never grow tired of nonetheless. 

You sigh in content. His cum fills you up rapidly, and to the brim. It’s hot, and thick, and trickles out of you even with him still inside—simply because there’s so much of it. The both of you are out of breath, and because of it, choose to stay within each other’s hold for just a little while longer. 

Satoru could—and would—stay in this position for the rest of his life. . .but he’s quite sure that you’ve put a lot of effort in today’s dinner and he doesn’t want it to be for naught. With a deep sigh and a quick kiss to your cheek, he goes against every fibre of his being, and pulls out of you. 

A shiver trails down your spine when he does so, and you let out a soft sigh in content. You’re still recovering, he notices. There’s a trail of his cum dripping out of you, though he wastes little time to push it back inside. Satoru takes matters into his own hands, and decides to place your panties back into place for you, too. It gets soiled by his seed rather quickly, but that’s a problem for later. 

After smoothing down your skirt, he tucks himself back into his pants, as well. He’s by your side as quick as he can, and presses a sweet, lingering kiss to your temple. 

It’s only then that he properly takes notice of all the stuff that’s been thrown around the kitchen. Pots, pans, vegetables, spices. It seems you really were busy.

And, as if he hadn’t just finished fucking you silly, he smiles. 

“So, what are you making?”

© MADE BY SANATOMIS — please, refrain from stealing, copying, or reposting any of my works.

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 2

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a–less–oblivious player. That’s it, that’s the plot. A/N: Ok, I’ve decided to make this by series, so this one’s just going to be purely Sylus. I hope nobody minds the specific names/places/etc. I wanted to create a personality for the “player” and add a bit of backstory work (loosely based on yours truly lol) for the sake of storytelling, but there won't be any distinct description of the player’s physical appearance <3 Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, suggestive language, bouts of delusion

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8

Riiiiing– RiiiNGGGGG––

“Huh… whazat—?” 

A shrill—earsplitting, headache-inducing, completely fucking loud—noise wakes you up rather rudely from your peaceful slumber at… Jesus Christ, what time is it? 

You blink your bleary eyes open, once… twice—fuck, all you know that it’s too goddamn early for all this ruckus. Groaning, you clumsily try to find the source of the unexpected wake-up call—quite literally in this case. 

Your hand bumps the vibrating phone straight off the edge of the mattress – along with the charger cord still attached to it – and you cuss up a storm when you hear it clatter on the hardwood floor.

The ringing finally stops, and you’re perfectly content to just leave it there and fall back to sleep when, not even ten seconds later, the blasted thing rings back to life, taunting you awake. 

Angrily, you wrestle against the threadbare blanket wrapped around your body like a warm cocoon, pushing yourself out of bed with all the rage of a sleep-deprived insomniac who’s been up til the buttcrack of dawn to grab your—huh, relatively intact—phone off the ground, while the charger cable swings haphazardly from the weight of the power brick on its tail end.  

Without checking the caller, you swipe right to answer. “What?” 

“Don’t use that tone on me, young lady,” Your mother grouses on the other end of the line. “It’s almost noon! Did you just wake up?” 

Barely five hours of sleep. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you shut your eyes and sigh. “No, mom. Sorry, just had a late night,” you clear your throat in an attempt to sound more composed. “What’s up?” 

“Oh, dear. Is it because of work again?” Something akin to sympathy replaces the sternness in her voice, and you dread the all-too-familiar spiel that comes next. “You know, honey, there’s a job opening for a– what was it again? I have to double check, but it’s where your Auntie Helen works. You know your Auntie Helen—” 

“Mom,” you interrupt, before she could go off on a tangent. “Work is fine, don’t worry. Why d’you call?” 

“Should I need a reason to call my only daughter who's living by her lonesome, a country away from—” 

“Mom!” 

“Oh, alright,” she finally relents, sounding slightly exasperated. “Were you able to book me and Jodie the roundtrip flight to Orlando? Your cousin’s wedding is barely a month away and I want all the documents ready by now, sweetie.” 

Shit. “Ah— yeah. I’ll email you the flight itinerary in a bit, I’m just–” you catch sight of your protruding hamper, innocuous but an eyesore nonetheless, right by the doorway of your humble studio unit. “I mean, I just left the condo. To do errands and stuff. I’ll send the details to you when I get back home, okay?” 

“Okay, honey,” she sighs. “You stay safe outside now. Don’t talk to strangers.” 

“I am a perfectly responsible adult—” The call disconnects. “Hello? Great.” 

You rub away the remnants of sleep from your eyes, fully aware that your day’s already started, despite your reluctance. Might as well get a head start on today’s agenda.

First thing’s first– brunch. Oh, it’s almost one. Lunch, then. I could maybe grab a hotdog from the corner store before heading to Landers. Oh wait, your laundry– gotta pass by the laundromat downstairs, too. Ugh, c’mon, chop-chop. 

Just as you’re about to stand up from your supine position on the floor, another ping! pulls your attention back to your phone. 

“Mom, I swear–” 

Ah, you’re finally awake. You’ve had a very long night, kitten. Take it easy for the day – make sure to get enough rest between errands.

I’ll know if you don’t.  

Your heart skips a beat.

Oh! Um. That’s… new. 

… Apparently another one on the growing list of “new features” from the latest update. It doesn't sound like an invitation for you to open the game, strangely enough. It's not a call to action to claim your daily stamina, nor a prompt for you to check your Galaxy Explorer rewards. 

It’s nothing more than a greeting, really. Just one that’s particularly targeted at you, with unnerving accuracy.

You recall the weird (?) events from last night, and the now-erratic beating of your heart suddenly picks up a notch. From the unexpected dialogues to the outrageous amount of dias you’ve somehow ended up with—something you still think is some kind of glitch in the system—you can’t shake the feeling that you’re living out the plot of a Black Mirror episode, as fucking dumb as that sounds. 

Not to mention during Quality Time, Sylus_v2.0 (as you so lovingly dub this version of him in your mind) had been acting more aware of you.

And you’re not talking about the pre-programmed glances that you usually get. No– it’s like he actually hears you. 

He doesn’t say anything. But whenever you make a comment, or utter something under your breath, he reacts with a huff or a hum–depending on the context. If it’s a slew of expletives aimed at your boss, the reaction you’re met with is one of amusement. A snort; sometimes a quiet laugh, if you’re lucky. When you say something self-deprecating, however, it elicits the heavier sighs, the sharp clicks of the tongue. 

At one point, you heard him make a low sound of dissent, something close to a... growl, almost, after making a casual joke about being just another cog in the machine and how offing yourself wouldn’t really matter in the grand scheme of late capitalism. As you oft do. 

Your eyes met, and for a split second, it felt like you weren’t looking at just pixels. His gaze weighed heavy on you–almost accusatory. 

It made you feel… naked, somehow. Perceived. 

You recall how quickly you averted your eyes from his, face flushing hotly from a feeling you couldn’t put into words. 

Bone-tired from last night’s (morning) overtime, you didn’t have the time to look up the news on this recent version update—although you really don’t remember any notifications in-game—so you quickly Google, “sylus acting sentient in rcent update loveamd Deepspace???” on your phone browser.

You scroll down for a bit, but none of the search results yield any relevancy, nor are they in any way similar to your current… predicament. 

(Okay, so calling it a predicament is a little unfair. You’re not exactly complaining about anything per se. No complaints from you. At all.)

Deciding that you’d do a deeper dive on Twitter (X) at a later time instead – probably tonight when you do your daily login – you briefly press the side button to lock your phone… not without a final peek at the banner notification from Sylus. 

You press your lips together in an effort to hold back the stupid giggle bubbling up your throat. 

Unfortunately, all the self-control in the world can’t help you and your need to have the last word—girl, from what even—so you ask aloud, to no one except the person you've deluded yourself into thinking is a valid recipient of your one-sided conversation: 

“... Yeah? And what if I don’t?” 

You’re not really waiting for a response (or were you?), but the nervous flutter in your stomach betrays the impatience you're trying to mask with casual indifference. It’s small, unassuming–but there. 

Impatient for what, exactly, you’re not sure. But maybe, just maybe—

Feeling a bit braver now, are we? How bold. Care to say that to my face, sweetheart?

Oh. 

Oh.

An inhuman noise escapes your throat, embarrassingly loud, almost a keen, and you fumble with the device in your hand; the new banner notification still in full view—taunting you. 

You don’t know what to think, you don’t know how to feel. You–

Spring up, like an agitated jack-in-a-box, and the sudden rush of blood in your head leaves you dizzy. You’re a molotov cocktail of emotions; one more bombshell dropped on you and you might just blow. 

“I’m– later, okay? Uh,” Whew, girl, keep it together. “I need–I need to go.” You almost stumble as you speed walk towards the bathroom.

-

-

-

If you didn’t switch your phone to silent, didn’t make the conscious effort to ignore any incoming messages, notifications, and whatever else, in a rush to get dressed and go about your day as if it's just like any other weekend–nope, nothing unusual here–you would’ve seen one last cheeky reply:

Of course, sweetie. You take care now. 

Don’t talk to strangers. X

Endnote: This one's pretty short, but I’m world-building, trust. 

Thanks for reading! 

[unluckilyimnot]

reader hugging them for the first time

Characters : mikey, chifuyu, kazutora, koko, rindou, sanzu, wakasa

asked by : @ejtheoneandonly

m.list | rules

note: i hope it's what you expected ! it's been a while since i write for them, it makes me nostalgic

Mikey isn’t really surprised when your arms wrapped around him for the first time. His eyes widened a little at the comforting feeling but soon, a huge smile flashed on his face before he turned to look at you slightly.

Something is warming up in his heart and he can’t put his finger on it. All he knows is that he wants to feel it again.

Chifuyu felt like he was in a manga. You grabbed his waist, pushed your cheek on his and snapped a picture with your phone. All of this happened so fast he didn’t get to process the moment but as your hand lasted a little around his back, his cheeks were already burning.

But he has to play it cool, leaning in as you showed him the picture. “We’re cute ! Send it to me later !”

future!roommate!Kazutora’s tears were falling down his face for a while now and when he heard the front door he kinda regretted staying there. You passed the door silently at first before hearing him sniff on the sofa. Taking a few steps after leaving your shoes at the entrance, you gasped slightly when you saw him.

He was pushing his tears away, trying to cover it up, he didn’t have any right to impose that on you. Yet, you didn’t think about it twice and your arms wrapped around his shaking shoulders, pulling him into your chest. “It's okay, it happens.”

Koko felt your body fall on his back while he was still studying at the library. Your arms kindly wrapping themselves around his neck as you took a look above his shoulders. “Are you done soon, Hajime ?”

He can feel his heart beating faster at the surprise, yet loving the way you warmed him up in a few seconds. He thought about it a bit longer than necessary and now, it took him too long to answer without sounding weird. But it’s fine. He could easily get used to you hugging him.

“Rindou I’m scared I can't jump from there ?!” you screamed from the low wall the Haitani brothers just passed by as if it was nothing. Rindou sighed a little before pulling his arms in the air, ready to catch you.

“Come on.” He could feel his ears burn when you smiled at him. He was shocked to see you jump with so much confidence when you were whining a second ago. You fell into his arms, holding onto him longer than you should’ve and he couldn’t help but not let go. He didn’t want to, this felt too good.

Future!Sanzu was shocked, like he never felt something so reassuring in his entière life the first time your hands pulled his head into your shoulder.

“It's alright.” Your fingers lightly brushing through his hair made him close his eyes, enjoying the moment the fullest. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe this wasn't even real. But the warmth engulfing him felt so real that he wanted to keep it for himself only.

Wakasa knew you weren’t the one open with physical touch, but he never intended to ask anything about it or even mention it. He just acknowledged it a long time ago. So when you came to his place that night, crying, face bruised, he felt all his old anger coming back to him, wanting to know what happened. Who did that to you.

But before he could even open his mouth, your arms were wrapped around his waist and you started ugly crying in his chest, wetting his shirt. He froze for a second, processing the whole citation before hugging you closer, feeling proud that you thought of him in this vulnerable situation.

Let me know if you liked it !

Reblog are appreciated ♡

[talaok]

Okay so I’m thinking Pedro x Actress!reader where another famous guy/actor says in an interview that he has a crush on us which makes Pedro a bit jealous and then we all end up at the same event - maybe Pedro gets abit angsty with him but he’s super loving and affectionate toward us…

warnings: jelousy

a/n: it goes without saying that i apologize for the wait babe, i really loved this request 

It wasn't that he hated him, it was just that if anything were to happen to him he wouldn't be the one to cry, that's all...

and maybe he'd thought about punching that smug look off his face once... or twice... or every time the thought of him came up.

But it still wasn't hate

Hate is a strong word, and Pedro wasn't not one to throw it around easily, he was all for peace and love and everything but this guy... this guy was really pushing the limits

And what the actual fuck was he even doing here tonight?

"You're staring"

Your soft, amused voice pulled him out of his own thoughts, his eyes sliding to you

"I just don't get why he's here"

You stifled a laugh as you answered "The same reason why we are baby"

"he's not even nominated" he grumbled,

"neither am I" You smiled, placing your hand on his cheek, feeling his soft scruff graze your palm "It's not a big deal babe, he probably said my name just because it was the first one that popped into his mind" you shook your head "I bet it's not even true"

Yeah right

He would have believed that if you were anybody else, but you... fuck- it didn't take him even a second to fall in love and you expected him to believe that that guy didn't have a crush on you? He would have sooner begun believing that Mark Zuckerberg was one of those lizard guys.

You were everything anyone could have ever dreamed of, you were funny, so incredibly smart it made him feel like a fifth grader in comparison, and god you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen 

he knew what you did to men, he knew what you did to men because that's exactly what you did to him,

and he didn't even mind that much, he'd never been the jealous type, but the problem with Shawn wasn't that he liked you (because he clearly did), but it was that he had the audacity, the smugness to fucking say it out loud, to admit it in front of a camera for anyone to see, like the woman he was talking about didn't have a husband, like he wasn't her fucking husband.

"I saw him look at you before"

This time, you did let out a little snort

"what, how dares he?" you mocked him, laughing again as his face remained completely unamused "It's your big night babe, don't let this silly little thing ruin it, please"

But just then, just when he was finally starting to let go a little, the focus of all of his loathing appeared beside you

"I'm sorry to interrupt-"

Then fucking don't

"I just wanted to introduce myself" 

Shawn's eyes were only on you, as if he didn't even exist, as if your hands hadn't been on his cheeks but a moment prior

"I'm Shawn," he said, offering his hand to you "I'm... well, I'm a really big fan" he ended with a soft laugh, smiling in that charming way that surely made women all woozy

"Hi Shawn, it's a pleasure to meet you-"

As you shook his hand, Pedro was closing his into fists

This fucking guy-

"Hi pal"

Pedro's voice didn't sound even a little bit not completely pissed off

"I'm Pedro," he said "her husband"

The flicker of amusement that sparked behind his eyes made Pedro seriously ponder whether or not a little punch was that bad of an idea

"Oh, I didn't know you were married"

Andrew's eyes were back to you, and god it was taking all of Pedro not to grab him and throw him to the other side of the room

Just the fact that he was looking your way seemed too much, 

How dare he look at you, at his beautiful wife, at the love of his life?

It felt wrong, it was wrong, and it was making him furious

"I'm sure you didn't" Pedro grunted, taking a slow step closer to him "Shawn right?" he asked, even though he knew much too well who he was "What exactly are you doing here?" Pedro's eyes narrowed, his head tilting "I didn't notice your name in any of the nominations"

"baby" your soft warning was met with a soft smile from him, one that faded into a stoic/murderous gaze as soon as your husband's eyes were back on the man before him

"I'm just asking a question sweetheart, that's all"

Shawn seemed to accept Pedro's challenge in the blink of an eye

"I'm here with a friend, he's the one that got the nom"

Pedro nodded slowly, "ah. Right," he said, his hand going to your back and drawing gentle circles on it

He didn't miss the way Shawn followed the movement

"And why exactly are you talking to my wife Shawn?"

Now that, that seemed to take him aback a little, but he recovered quickly

"What?" he laughed "is no one allowed to talk to your wife without your permission or something?"

"Oh absolutely not, my wife can talk to whomever she wishes," Pedro spoke "I'm just not very fond of her talking to men that have openly admitted to liking her" he shrugged as if his eyes and voice weren't yelling murder 

You, in the meantime, were busy looking for the fastest way out of this place

"You've seen the video," Shawn said more like a statement

"I sure did" Your husband nodded "I especially liked the part where you described her as your "dream woman""

Shawn sighed loudly, shaking his head

"listen, man-"

"No, you listen, man" Pedro interrupted him "How 'bout you get the fuck away from me and my wife, mh?" he said more like a threat "How bout that?"

Shawn let out a loud breath before responding

"whatever man" he sighed, his eyes moving to you "It was nice to meet you y/n, maybe we can meet another time..." he glanced to the man on your right "when the guard dog isn't around"

"yeah" Pedro scoffed "Go fuck yourself, buddy"

You both stared at his back as he walked away, but after no more than two seconds, you couldn't help but let your lips pull into the smile you'd been holding this whole time

"that was a bit harsh"

Pedro only grinned as he brought you flash against him with his hands on your waist

"Like you haven't done worse" he smirked

Yeah... while Pedro wasn't usually jealous, you were... let's just say you were not exactly on the same wavelength

"you looked ready to kill him" you chuckled, wrapping your arms behind his neck

"mh" he hummed, ghosting your mouth "Who says I wasn't" he teased, his lips crashing with yours in a long, deep kiss that Pedro absolutely didn't wish for Shawn to be witnessing

[tetzoro]

˖˙ ꔫ — HAPPY BIRTHDAY TETSU ˚

꒰ synopsis ꒱ : getting ready for kuroo’s birthday dinner has brought on a few unexpected surprises.

꒰ contents ꒱ : kuroo tetsuro x reader ; fluff. full of silliness and made with lots of love. reader is pregnant but kuroo doesn’t know, brief alcohol mention, dividers by adornedwithlight — WC : 1.8k

An unnaturally high-pitched, almost bone-chilling scream sounds off in the bathroom. The tube of lipstick you were holding drops onto the vanity with a small clunk before you dart to the source of the distress.

Every light in the bathroom was flicked on, the brightness overwhelming you as you attempt to focus on the scene before you. But nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight.

Your devastatingly handsome husband, dressed to the nines in one of his best suits, was rustling with his inky, unruly hair in a state of panic. His eyes were wide and filled with a crazed determination as he looked for something. He's never been one to fuss that much over his hair, so it worried you a little.

“Tetsu..?” You ask in a soft voice, taking a cautious step forward with the gentleness of a curious cat. “What’s-"

“I HAVE GRAY HAIR!” He dramatically exclaimed, turning towards you and pointing towards his head. You blink once, twice. In a few easy steps, you’re right in front of this man-child and gently caress his cheek, your eyes trailing from his to the small white hair he was gesturing to.

“Okay?” You look back at him, rubbing your thumb against his cheek soothingly. “It looks good, honey.”

“I can't believe it.” Kuroo goes to break out of your hold, looking back at the mirror in horror. “I just turned thirty, this can’t be happening.”

“It's only one tiny strand of hair, Tetsuro.” You sigh exasperated, walking up to wrap your arms around his slim waist. “Besides, I think it suits you. You’re entering your silver fox era, very sexy of you.”

His body rumbles against yours as he lets out a reluctant chuckle before his hands move down to rest over yours, giving them a gentle pat. The twin golden bands that adjourn your ring fingers shine under the fluorescent lights, the glint catches your eye as it happily reflects in the mirror. 

“If you say so.” He didn’t look convinced, still frowning at his reflection. If he didn’t look so adorably pitiful, you might’ve felt bad. “Just pluck it off me. Please.”

“Aw, I love it when you beg.” The pout on his face only deepens.

“Ha, ha. Way to kick a man while he’s down, babe.” The sarcasm flows past his lips, clearly unimpressed with your lack of sympathy in this life changing moment.

“You’re so dramatic.” Without hesitation, you go to grab the defenseless strand of hair and it comes off all too easily. It only takes a second for everything to click into place. “Tetsu.”

“Did you get it?” His eyes are squeezed shut, bracing for the impact that never comes.

“Kuroo.” The use of his surname has him straightening up, eyes flying open. The piece of hair falls into his palm and he looks at it, completely gobsmacked. “This is cat hair.”

The cackle of his laugh drowns out the silence in the cramped room, his head tossed back in absolute delight. Whether it’s over the fact that it was just cat hair or the simple fact of him not having gray hair yet, you’re not sure, but you can’t find it in you to be mad. Not when his amber eyes twinkle and shine as they brim with joyful tears. 

“You’re absolutely ridiculous.” You shake your head, a smile resting on your lips. The two of you were always coated in cat hair of some sort and Kuroo had an affinity for nuzzling his head against the kitties. It’s no wonder one had found its place nestled in his hair.

“Would you love me even if I was already graying?” He asks, but there’s a tone of insecurity that weaves itself into the cracks of his voice. Thirty was a new milestone, one that he had been looking forward to but birthdays always seem to shove the concept of time right in your face.

With a tenderness that came as easy as breathing, you press a sweet kiss against his lips. It quickly blooms into a life of its own as you pour everything you wish to say into it. 

The love that will remain eternal, the warmth of all the sunsets you will watch together, the endless laughs you have yet to share, the sweet promise of tomorrow and the rest of your lives together.

“My love, I'll be with you until you’re old and gray and screaming over the fact that you found a black hair in place of all that gray.” You giggle, carding your fingers through the soft, unruly strands in an attempt to smooth it all over. “I meant it when I said my vows. I'm with you forever.”

The words reassure him, letting your promise melt over him and ease all the tension out of his body. There was never any doubt, of course, but he always loved hearing the reminder.

“My sweet wife.” With a boyish grin, Kuroo spins you around and securely cradles you in his arms, gently swaying side to side.

“My silly husband.” Reaching up behind you, you affectionately pat the palm of your hand against his cheek.

The warmth of his smile cascades through you, a beam of affection that never fails to give you butterflies despite how long you’ve been together. Something that will forever remain unchanged.

Kuroo kisses the side of your head, pressing his cheek against yours as you lovingly gaze at each other through the bathroom mirror.

“You look so beautiful, by the way. The prettiest angel I've ever seen. That dress is almost unfair.” Kuroo kisses down your cheek and along your jaw. “And you smell delicious enough to eat.”

“We have dinner reservations mister, so reel it in.” You smirk, a trait you’ve easily adopted from spending years with the man who was currently pouting over the fact he had to go to his extravagant birthday dinner.

“I suppose you’re right, but I plan on thoroughly enjoying my dessert after.” Kuroo purrs, running his soft lips along your skin, kissing your earlobe before trailing down to your neck to murmur on. “I'll order that champagne you like too, we can pull out all the stops.”

“Too bad I can't drink it.” The words slip out of your mouth faster than you could reel them back in. Kuroo froze for a moment, looking back at you through the mirror.

“Haah?” He gives you a puzzled look, standing up straight. “Why not?”

The reasoning escapes you, replaced by the pitiful opening and closing of your mouth, tongue twisting in every direction as it tries to land on what to say or rather, how to say it. 

The longer you take to respond, the more Kuroo’s eyes widen. Abruptly, he turns to you, quickly grabbing your shoulders as hope shines brightly through his hazel irises.

“Are you..?” He trails off, the words escaping him as well, nothing more than a whisper. All you can do is nod a little before Kuroo envelopes you in a crushing embrace. “You’re pregnant?!” 

“I am.” You smile, letting Kuroo pick you up a little in celebration. He lets out a bark of laughter, squeezing you gently before lowering you back down.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner!” He gazes softly at you, fondness crinkling by the corner of his eyes and a smile so genuine that his dimple began to show. 

“I just found out!” You grin back at him, tears brimming your eyes and overjoyed with his reaction. “I wanted to tell you but i didn’t know if tonight was right and —“

“It's more than right.” He presses his forehead against yours, eyes searing into the depths of your soul. “It's perfect. The best birthday gift ever.”

It was no secret that Kuroo had been ready to expand your little family for a while now. It was something you had wanted too but when the timing was a little better. So you had promised him to have that conversation again after he turned thirty. 

At least this saves a little time.

Kuroo carefully slides down your body, falling to his knees in seemingly slow motion. his ear is pressed against your stomach, his hands tenderly gripping your waist. 

“Oh my god.” He whispers so softly you have to strain to hear him. “I'm going to be a father.”

“You’re going to be such a good dad, Tetsu.” You run your fingers through his inky black hair. Kuroo looks up at you, wide-eyed and hopeful as his chin gently presses against your abdomen.

“You really think so?” He asks, vulnerability licking at his tone. 

“I know so.” You smile. The reassurance flooded his system, reigniting the excitement of it all. He grins back at you once again and all feels right in the world. The ghost of his lips brush along the fabric that serves as a barrier to your lower abdomen, a place that he plans on showering with love as much as he can.

“Hang on!” Kuroo stands back up so abruptly it almost gives you whiplash. You shouldn’t wear those heels, it’s not good for the baby.”

“Tetsu, I-“ Your sentence is interrupted by a squeal as Kuroo picks you up bridal style and marches towards your room. He sits you on the edge of the bed. “Tetsu, I’m only 7 weeks pregnant.” 

“Still.” Kuroo lifts your foot, fiddling with the straps of your heel before sensually sliding it off, giving your ankle a kiss for good measure. He does the same with the other foot, his eyes set on you. “You better start getting used to this, sweetheart.”

The other heel hits the ground with a distant thud as Kuroo kisses up along your leg, the fabric of the dress annoyingly getting in his way until he slides his head under it.

“Tetsu, we have reservations.” You try to squirm away but his hands grip your hips before his head pops back out to look at you with a serious expression.

“We’re not going.” He decides, hands roaming along your body. “Let's get take out, I wanna take care of you tonight.”

“It's your birthday though.” You can’t help but pout a little, guilt slowly seeping through the cracks of excitement from earlier. If only you had kept the news a secret a little longer —

“Shh.” Kuroo sits back up so his face is directly in front of yours, nuzzling his nose against yours. He always knew when you’d retreat into your mind and never let you fall too deep before lulling you back. “You gave me the perfect gift and nothing would make me happier than spoiling you a bit.”

“But—“ 

“No buts. It’s my birthday after all, and I get final say.” With a dastardly smirk, he kisses you with all the love in the world, his palm happily resting on your stomach. The excitement of the coming days in your lives grows alongside the little one that will bring you so much joy in the near future. 

thank you very much for reading. happy birthday tetsu 💋

[hischierhoney]

I KNOW

Nico Hischier x Hughes sister!reader

• Off Limits Pt 2 • 6.2k words

Summary: Things between you and Nico are going well, but the two of you might not be as sneaky as you think.

Warnings: mild sexually suggestive content, 18+ MDNI

You don’t think he’s noticed yet. In all fairness, he’s pretty used to seeing you in a Devils jersey. It’s what you’d been wearing when the two of your first met, and most times you saw each other after that. Especially now that two of your brothers are on the team, you’re almost always wearing some form of NJD gear. This jersey is different, though.

Nico’s been at practice for most of the day. When you met him at his apartment, you'd taken the liberty of grabbing one of his jerseys from his closet and slid it over your head, and for good measure, ditched your pants, too. You’re waiting on the couch in nothing but the jersey, which he probably would’ve realized if he wasn’t so busy organizing all his gear, and telling you about the practice, and trying to eat a bit of the pasta you’d brought him all in the middle of it.

You see it when he notices, and you hear it, too. His talking stops, and his gaze freezes on you, on where you sit on the couch, bare legs crossed over each other. He blinks a couple times, and then his eyes grow even wider.

“Nice jersey,” he says, voice suddenly an octave lower.

You crane your neck to look down at the number 13 emblazoned across the shoulder and the captain’s C on the chest. “Oh. Had to rep my favorite player, you know.”

He nods, makes a sort of low humming noise. You just smile up at him, watching the way his cheeks flush. If you’d known it would have this effect on him, you’d have gotten yourself one of his jerseys a long time ago. Maybe before he even rescued you from that bar.

His gaze drags up and down your body. “Schatz.”

You cock your head and blink softly. “Yeah, Nico?”

He sets his plate down on the coffee table. It’s still half full of pasta. You watch him with soft eyes as he takes a few steps towards you, lips barely parted. He beckons you towards him with two bent fingers. You go without even thinking twice, up off the couch in seconds, the jersey falling to your mid thigh.

When you’re within arm’s reach, his hands come up to hold your shoulders, rubbing up and down gently. His eyes are all over you.

“Did you steal this from my closet?” He asks.

You nod, chewing on your lower lip. “Hope that’s okay.”

Nico rumbles out a laugh. He shakes his head, and then he brushes his lips against your temple, down the crest of your cheek, and against your jaw. He takes a couple steps, turns slightly, and then spins you around in his grip, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your back tight against his front. You gasp at the maneuver, and your eyes flicker up to his reflection in the floor length mirror in front of you.

He’s not looking at you. Instead, his eyes are on your upper back- his last name, across your shoulders, you realize.

His eyes flicker up to meet yours. Your face is hot, the rest of your skin getting there, too. There’s a look on his face- a mix of awe and affection and attraction. He presses a soft kiss behind your ear and takes a deep breath.

“It’s more than okay,” he says. One of his hands slips down to your bare thigh, toying with the hem of the jersey. “You should keep it on.”

You lean back against him, resting your head against his shoulder, never breaking eye contact in the mirror. “Yeah?”

He nods, and his hand slips up your thigh so he can squeeze your bare hip. He raises his eyebrows when he finds nothing there- no fabric, no underwear. You raise your eyebrows right back.

“But you’d better find some pants,” he says, nipping lightly at your jaw, “‘cause we’re going on a date.”

He’s gone within seconds, leaving you reeling. Your heart is racing, chest heaving, and he’s just- gone. You look at your reflection in bewilderment.

“What?” You call after him, turning around. “Nico, where are you going? What are-“

He pops his head out from around the hallway corner, and his cheeks are red and rosy. You almost stumble towards him, but something makes you stay planted there. Maybe this was too much. Maybe you’re coming on too strong.

“We’re going on a date,” he repeats. “Keep the jersey, find some pants. I’m taking a quick shower.”

You blink at him. “You just showered. Your hair is wet. You’re being weird.”

He raises his eyebrows at you. “Yes. I’m taking a cold shower. The jersey worked, schatz, but I have a date planned for us.”

Then he disappears. You hear the shower kick on a few seconds later, and the shocked yelp that follows. You turn back to the mirror and laugh at your reflection.

20 minutes later, you’re in his car. He’s freshly showered, and you’re wearing his jersey and a pair of leggings. He has his hand on your thigh, like he always does any chance he gets, away from prying eyes. You rest your hand on top of his and run your fingers over the veins. Five minutes out from your very secretive date- he hasn’t given you any details- he tells you to close your eyes.

“C’mon, it’s a surprise,” he says, squeezing your leg.

“But Nico-“

He laughs and lifts his hand, placing it over your eyes. You squeal and try to pull it away, but it’s no use. He’s stronger than you, keeps your vision covered. You whine about it the whole way, but he just teases you the entire time.

When the car rolls to a stop, he leans close and whispers in your ear, “keep your eyes closed for me?”

You squeeze them shut tighter than you ever have before. He opens his door and shuts it, then opens your door and pulls you out of the car. You laugh the entire walk, as he keeps his hands on your hips and leads you in. There’s a squeaky, heavy sounding door, echoing footsteps on tile floors, and nothing but the darkness of your eyelids. And then- cold.

“Are we at the rink?” You ask, stopping in your tracks.

He groans, dropping his forehead against your shoulder. “How the fuck did you figure that out?”

You laugh and reach blindly for his face, pinching his cheek lightly. “Nico, all of my brothers play hockey. I know ice rinks.”

He sighs heavily. You turn around in his arms and open your eyes, face to face with him. His gaze is soft and warm even though he’s pouting.

“Why are we here?” You ask.

He shrugs. “You said… after the family skate you mentioned how you wished we could’ve skated together. And then I couldn’t stop thinking about it. So. I thought we could have our own skate.”

You swear you melt into a puddle, right there at his feet. “Oh. Wow. That’s-“

You lose the ability to say anything other than the words that have been stuck on your tongue for weeks now- I love you. He just kisses your cheek and drags you away to the locker room. Within a few minutes, you’re stepping out into the arena as he turns the lights on. They shine down on the empty rink. You’ve almost never been in here when it’s empty like this. It feels strange. You’re used to being a part of the roaring crowd, used to cheering on the team from the sidelines.

Nico helps you lace up your skates, and then he walks you out to the ice, so carefully it makes your chest feel tight.

“I know how to skate,” you tell him.

“I know,” he says, kissing your temple.

Despite that, he keeps his hands on you when you get out on the ice. You know it’s not about making sure you don’t fall, and you think back to dates when you were a teenager, boys suggesting ice skating because they thought it’d be an easy excuse to hold your hand. You’d skated circles around all of them. But Nico’s a professional hockey player, and you want to hold his hand, so you let him take both of yours in his, facing each other, and you smile when he starts to skate backwards and pulls you along.

He’s so at home here. You’ve seen it when you watch the games, but it’s more obvious now, watching the way his face lights up as he skates. It’s so endearing, and it makes you feel warm from the inside out. This is his thing, and you get to share it with him, at least for a little while.

He spins the both of you in a circle and glides to a stop. You bump into his chest and laugh, pulling your hands from his to wrap your arms around his middle. He laughs, too, and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“This is nice,” you say. “You know, when I was a kid, the boys made me be the goalie.”

Nico snorts out a laugh. “Were you any good?”

You shake your head and sigh. “They’d put me in a fucking dirtbike helmet, and I was too small for any of the pads and they smelled bad, so they’d tie pillows around me, and… yeah. I was a bad goalie.”

“Why’d you let them?” He asks, sounding mildly concerned.

You shrug. “I was being a supportive sister.”

He laughs and pulls away just slightly, holding you at arms length. His hands slip from your sides and come up to cup your face, and then he kisses you, warm and sweet and gentle, like he always is at first with you. He tucks your hair behind your ear as he deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips and pressing against yours. Suddenly, despite the ice and the cold, you’re burning up. He tends to have that effect.

He pulls away sooner than you’d really want him to, but you let him go. There’s plenty of time for more of that. He pulls away fully and stands next to you on the ice, looking down the rink.

“Race me?” He asks.

“That’s so not fair,” you grumble.

“I’ll give you a head start,” he suggests.

You narrow your eyes at him, and then without even thinking, you take off across the ice. He’s hot on your heels within seconds, but the quick takeoff is enough to buy you a few precious seconds. You only lose by a couple feet when both of you slide to a stop at the other end of the rink, laughing so hard neither of you can stand up straight. He skates towards you and sweeps you up off the ice, wrapping his arms around your middle and spinning as you cling onto him and laugh even harder.

The happiness is bubbling up in your chest, and it feels nearly overwhelming. It’s been a long time since you’ve been with someone who makes you feel like this- happy and carefree and fun, and like you can be all those things without worrying about what he’s going to think. He sets you down carefully on the ice and pulls your back to his front, resting his chin on your shoulder.

He points up into the stands, at a row of seats that looks familiar. “There’s your seat,” he says, the words washing over the skin of your neck.

Your breath catches in your chest. Your seat isn’t a front row one- it’s pretty far up in the arena. From the ice, it looks far away and tiny. You’re not sure you’d be able to spot yourself all the way up there, let alone when it’s crowded with people and the ice is busy, when there are so many people clamoring for attention.

“You know my seat?” You mumble, pressing one of your hands over his.

“Mhm,” he says. He takes your hand in his, raises it and points towards the seat. “Right there, right? Under the screen. I always wave.”

He does. And not just since you started dating- you can remember your second ever Devil’s game, watching him glide around on the ice, and the way he paused in your corner and waved. The same spot, every game you’re at.

You nod. “Yeah. I just. I thought that was just you saying hi to the crowd.”

He laughs and kisses the side of your neck softly. “Next time, I’ll blow you a kiss or something so you know it’s for you. Maybe flip you off. Stick my tongue out. You’ll know it when you see it.”

You nod in agreement and turn around to face him. You lean up to press a kiss to his lips, and that’s when you hear it.

“Hello?” A voice calls out.

Nico swears in German under his breath and then pulls you close, until you’re right against him, your face hidden against his shoulder. For a moment, you panic- you’re wearing your jersey, whoever it is will see your last name- except it’s not your jersey, it’s Nico’s.

Nico swears again, then calls out, “Just me, Jesper!”

“Nico?” Jesper calls back, sounding confused.

You hear footsteps, and Nico sighs. He keeps your face pressed into his chest, one hand on the back of your head. You’re fighting hard not to laugh. The footsteps slow, then stop, and Nico lifts one hand from your shoulder to wave.

“Oh, Hischier, you’re in trouble,” his teammate teases, whistling lowly.

“What, you gonna tattle on me for sneaking into the rink when you’re doing the same exact thing?” He asks.

“I’m not sneaking in, I saw your car outside and came to check on you,” his teammate says. “And I know a Hughes when I see one.”

You feel the rumble of Nico’s groan in his chest, and a giggle slips past your lips. You try to pull away, but he holds you tightly to his chest. You’re the one grumbling now.

“Lemme go, he already knows,” you huff.

“He has no proof, baby,” he says.

“Don’t need proof,” Jesper calls out.

“Shut up!” Nico calls back.

“Tell me to shut up again and I’ll call Jack!” He says back. You groan. “Or! You know what, I think I’ve got Quinn’s number-“

“No!” Both you and Nico yell, as he finally lets you go and you both spin to face Jesper.

Jesper laughs, doubling over on the edge of the rink, shaking his head. You falter a bit on your skates, and quick as a whip, Nico slips his arms under yours to hold you up. You grumble, but you’d rather not faceplant on the ice, so you let it go.

“Oh, he’s gonna kill you,” Jesper says, still laughing.

“Which one?” Nico asks.

“All three,” he responds, finally standing up to look at the two of you. “Team effort, probably.”

You sigh, though you know it’s probably true. Nico squeezes your side affectionately. You wonder what the look on his face is right now. You turn over your shoulder and you’re met with nothing but affection, even in the face of his teammate’s threats.

“Don’t worry,” Jesper says. “I’m not gonna tell ‘em.”

You hold your breath. Behind you, Nico’s doing the same.

“He’s had a crush on you for ages,” Jesper says, and Nico groans, loudly, and buries his face against your shoulder blade. “I’m proud, honestly. Never thought he’d get the balls. And maybe this means you’ll finally stop third wheeling my dates, huh?”

“Okay, goodbye,” Nico says, as he starts to skate backwards and pulls you with him. “We’re having a date, you know.”

Jesper makes a face at him. You know Nico’s making one back. He waves, though, and walks away, headed for the exit. Nico sighs happily and pulls you closer to himself. In the empty arena, your heart feels full.

…..

Nico leaves for a road game the next week, and you whine about it the whole time he’s packing. He whines right back, about how your whining makes it harder to leave, which you remind him is sort of the point.

“You’re supposed to be a supportive girlfriend,” he says, teasingly.

You pout. “I’m very supportive. I go to all your games. So really, it’s about time you missed one to support me.”

It’s not the first away game he’s had, nor will it be the last. It’s just hitting you hard this time. You think it has something to do with the way you look at him and think, oh, I love you, every time. It’s making your chest ache.

He rolls his eyes playfully and juts his lower lip out. “Oh yeah? Should I put in a text to the team group chat? Sorry boys, can’t go, my girlfriend is pouting. And then they’ll say, ‘you have a girlfriend?’ and-“

“Obviously I don’t mean it,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest. “But I’m gonna miss you.”

He leans over the edge of the bed where you’re sitting, hands braced on either side of your hips. He’s suddenly so close, and your breath catches in your chest. He smirks.

“I know,” he says. “I’m gonna miss you too.”

He lifts a hand to your side and pushes- you fall back against the bed easily. You’d had your legs crossed, but they unravel and fall to either side of his hips as if on reflex as he looms over you. He rubs his large hands smoothly up your thighs, over your sides, and then he rests them on the bed, on either side of your head, caging you in. You’re warm all over, suddenly.

“You’re not done packing,” you whisper, tugging a stray t-shirt from under your head.

He leans close, runs his nose along your jaw, and sighs. “Mm. Packing can wait.”

You frown. “You said-“ you’re interrupted when he presses a soft kiss to your jaw, then nips at the same spot with his teeth. You reach up and tangle your hand in his messy hair. “-said you wanted to pack early-“

“Yeah, that was stupid,” he grumbled. “How the fuck am I expected to pack when you’re sitting so pretty right here?”

You scoff. “Nico-“

He lets out a noise of dissent, reaches down, and takes both of your hands in one of his. Then he pins them above your head, squeezing softly. You choke on your breath. He pulls away, warm brown eyes on yours, and you swear you’re melting.

“Is that okay?” He asks, quietly.

“Please?” You answer, voice cracking on the word.

He laughs and ducks his head back to your neck. “That’s my girl.”

An hour later, he’s less packed than he was when he started, because he’s gone digging through his suitcase to find you a hoodie to wear after he took your clothes off of you. You tell him he’s being ridiculous. He just smiles, kisses your forehead, and pulls you into his arms. You fall asleep with the suitcase still on the bed.

…..

He calls you from the hotel the first night he’s there, after he gets off the plane and has dinner with the team and gets settled. You’re definitely not sitting in bed, staring at your phone, waiting eagerly. Well. Not as far as he knows. When it buzzes on the comforter, screen lit up with his face, you let it ring three times before swiping to answer so you don’t seem crazy. You’re so casual about this.

“Hi,” you breathe, and you know you’ve failed miserably at casual with just one syllable.

“Hi, baby,” he laughs down the line. You can almost hear the smile in his voice.

Warmth curls through you, and you snuggle farther into the blankets. “How was the trip?”

He launches into a story about TSA and the plane ride. You’re happy just to listen to him talk. His voice is warm and affectionate, even as he describes all the frustrating parts of travel. You can’t help but think that he has such a nice voice. He’s so nice to listen to- you’d let him just talk for hours, if you could. You love to hear him tell you stories, mumble things in your ear while you’re watching movies on the couch, love listening to the inflection of his words when he reads you a recipe for whatever the two of you are making for dinner. You love him. As he starts talking about the stupid decision his coach has made, your mind drifts further, to thoughts of his lips against your ear, telling you how good you’re being for him, how good you feel, how-

“Schatz,” he says, almost teasingly. “You okay?”

“Hm?” You ask.

“You’re awfully quiet,” he says. The tone he takes makes your spine tingle. “You okay?”

“Mhm.” You try to take a silent, deep breath. “Yeah, just… you know. I’m fine. Just miss you.”

You almost hope he’ll drop it, because you’re slightly embarrassed, really. He’ll probably think you’re crazy.

“I miss you too,” he says, and you nearly breathe a sigh of relief. Then he adds, “now tell me what’s got you so distracted.”

“Nico,” you hum, trying desperately to come up with an excuse.

He clears his throat. “Did I ever tell you I love it when you say my name like that?”

You press your hand over your mouth, trying to muffle the sharp intake of air. He lets out a rumble of a laugh, one that carries over the phone and washes down your spine, leaving you buzzing. Oh, he knows. He knows exactly what he’s doing. You’re caught now.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he repeats. “And I’ll tell you what I’ve been thinking about all day.”

You melt further back into the bed and close your eyes. “You just. You have a nice voice. I like your voice.”

“Not as nice as yours,” he says. Your skin grows hotter. “You sound so pretty. So sweet.”

With nothing but the backs of your eyelids in your vision, surrounded by soft blankets and sheets and the sound of his voice, you start to feel like you’re floating. “Nico,” you repeat. He laughs.

“You nice and cozy, baby?” He asks, voice dropping an octave and lighting up your every nerve. “Bet you’re all curled up in bed in your shorts and a hoodie, huh?”

You nod before you remember he can’t see you. “Mhm.”

“Fuck, I miss you,” he says. “It’s only been a day and I miss it. If I was there, I’d-“

He pauses, or cuts himself off, you’re not sure. It doesn’t matter. You’re waiting with bated breath, chest tight, burning up with your eyes squeezed shut. You turn your head and breathe in, deep. The smell of him is still stuck to your sheets. You could cry.

“You gonna be good for me?” He asks. “I’ll help you, alright, honey? You just be good for me.”

You nod frantically, even though he can’t see it. “Yeah, Nico. I’ll be good.”

“I know,” he says. His voice drops another octave when he says, “what hoodie are you wearing?”

“Yours,” you whine.

He rumbles out a laugh. “That’s my girl. Leave it on, but take the shorts off. Underwear, too. Gonna make yourself feel good for me.”

You shove the aforementioned pieces of clothing off, almost frantically. When you’re done following his instructions, you catch the hint of a familiar sound. His hand, slick and wet, moving over himself. Stars are already dancing behind your eyelids at the thought of it. You’re not sure you’ll be able to take much more.

“I’ve got you,” he promises.

I love you, you think. You wonder if he’s thinking it too.

You fall asleep afterwards with the phone call still going, and his soft snores soundtrack your dreams.

…..

When he calls the next night, the conversation is starkly different.

“Jack’s mad at me,” he says.

You frown, pausing your kitchen counter scrubbing. “Why d’you think that?”

Nico sighs. “Because he’s hasn’t talked to me for a whole day. And during practice he checked me into the wall.”

“I mean, maybe he’s not mad at you, maybe he’s just mad in general,” you suggest.

You can almost see the look on his face when he groans. It’s a bit scary that you know him so well, that you can picture the furrow in his brows and the soft pout of his lips.

“Do you want me to talk to him?” You ask. “I can see what’s going on.”

“If you ask why he’s mad at me he’ll know I told you,” Nico points out. “Which would be suspicious.”

You hum. “Yeah, I guess. It’s Jack, I’m sure it’s fine. He’s just a brat sometimes.”

Nico snorts out a laugh. “Must run in the family.”

You try to act mad, grumbling into the phone, but you can’t help but laugh. He follows suit. You love the sound of his laugh more than nearly anything in the world, you’ve found. It’s a terrifying, exciting feeling.

…..

A few nights later, you’re in your car, parked down the street from the rink. You have the lights off, and you’re ducked low behind the dash, praying nobody looks your way. You’d picked your parking spot specifically based on avoiding the route Jack and Luke always take to get home, and you’re praying they don’t notice your car.

Other cars start to roll out of the parking lot. You watch carefully, peeking over the hood and looking in your mirrors. You have an excuse, if they catch you, but it’s not foolproof, and there’s the added worry that one of their teammates will spot you and ask them about it. It’s risky. But…

Nico’s been gone for what feels like forever, even if it was only a few days. You’ve missed him terribly. So you offered to pick him up, and when he agreed without question and told you how much he’d missed you, too, you’d set the plan into motion. Now you’re here, so focused on the exit from the rink parking lot that you don’t notice the guy next to your car until he knocks on your window.

You scream, then immediately slap your hand over your mouth. It’s Jesper, again, of course it is- he’s leaning on the window and grinning like he’s entertained by it all, and you groan.

You roll the window down and hiss, “Jesus, man, you scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry!” He says, still smiling.

“S’fine,” you grumble. “If you saw me then my brothers will too, I should probably move.”

“No, that’s why I came to get you. I knew you’d be here, Nico mentioned it,” He explains. “He is arguing with your brothers in the locker room. Mostly Jack.”

You groan and rest your head against the steering wheel. “Of course he is.”

Jesper lets you into the building, and you wander the halls until you make it to the locker room. You can hear them arguing before you get to the door- clipped words and snappy tones. Whatever Jack’s been mad at Nico about must’ve boiled over. You decide to break in before you overhear too much, worried about hearing something you shouldn’t.

“Hello?” You call out from the doorway.

Nico turns to look at you, and your brothers follow suit. They’re scattered through the locker room- Nico’s standing in the middle, Jack’s in front of his cubby on the bench, Luke is standing in a corner. You make eye contact with all of them separately- Luke looks like a deer caught in the headlights, Jack is so angry his cheeks are flaming up, and Nico…

Nico meets your eyes and smiles, soft and warm, and if either of your brothers even spared a glance at him, you think they’d know. Or maybe, this is just how he’s always looked at you. Your heart squeezes in your chest, and you want nothing more than to run over and throw yourself into his arms. You stay put, even as he looks you up and down. Suddenly, you wish you were wearing his jersey instead of your normal Hughes one, just to see his eyes light up.

“What are you doing here?” Jack asks, gently.

He’s being nice. Almost too nice. Jack is almost never unkind to you, but he’s your brother- annoying most times, a pest all the time. The tone he’s taking with you is abnormal- he shouldn’t be so nice about you showing up here.

“Oh. I, uh, was gonna surprise you guys and see if you wanted to grab dinner or something,” you say, shrugging. “And then Jesper found me in my car and said you guys were arguing, and that maybe I should break it up.”

Jack huffs and whirls back around to glare at Nico. “You’ve got Bratter covering for you?”

You look at your brother with wide eyed confusion. Luke groans and drags a hand down his face. Nico, for his part, also looks confused.

“Jack, I-“ he tries.

“No,” Jack interrupts. He turns back to you and points. “You, me and Luke will go out for dinner. Okay? I’ll meet you outside.”

“Jack-“ Nico tries again.

“Shut up,” Jack snaps.

You need information. You need the full story. And when that’s what you’re looking for, you look to Luke. He’s the youngest, and he’s a tattletale.

“Lukey,” you start, crossing your arms over your chest. “Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Jack opens his mouth. You hold your hand up to him. He groans, but he stays quiet. Nico’s staring at you, entranced. Jack has always been so overprotective, and Luke, too, that you’re sure sometimes it’s easy to forget that you’re actually their older sister. That is, until now.

Luke sighs, heavily. “You and Nico are dating.” You raise your brows and gesture for him to continue. “And. Um. He had a girl in his room Tuesday night.”

Part of this makes sense. Of course they’re upset with Nico. They’ve figured out that the two of you are together, which Jack had explicitly said was not allowed. However, you’d always sort of figured that when they found out, they’d drop the overprotective act. They both love Nico, and they both want to see you happy, right?

Then you realize what the second half of what Luke said means- they think Nico cheated on you. You turn to look at your boyfriend, already knowing it’s not true for a variety of reasons, most important of all the fact that you were on the phone with him on Tuesday night. He’s giving you a pleading look, like he’s trying to convince you it’s not true, even though you didn’t believe it for a second.

You blink, then frown, then tilt your head. “No, he didn’t.”

“He did,” Jack pipes up, shoulders drooping. “Someone said they heard… noises. Of a sexual variety.”

Nico groans and buries his face in his hands. Meanwhile, you start to laugh, unable to help it now. Jack makes a noise of confusion.

“Jack,” you say, between giggles. “There are other things people can do, rather than just straight up sex, like maybe talking over the phone…”

Your brothers are silent for a moment. Then Luke groans, loudly, and covers his ears. He swings around and looks at Nico with wide eyes, then closes his eyes tightly. Jack, meanwhile, flops backwards against the wall and covers his face in his hands. Nico’s face is red. It’s not exactly how you would’ve chosen to tell them, but… it gets the point across.

“Please never say that to me again,” Jack says. “Actually, if you never say the word sex in my presence I’ll be happy.”

You roll your eyes and turn to Nico, shrugging lightly. Despite all of it, he’s still smiling at you. He looks so soft, in a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, hair an unbelievable mess. You have a strong urge to run your fingers through it. Jack lets out another noise of distress, and you turn back to him.

“You asked,” you tell your brother.

“No, I did not!” He snaps. “Excuse me for being worried, I thought you were being cheated on.”

“You really think that little of me?” Nico finally pipes in, looking at his friend.

Jack pulls his hands from his face and turns to look at Nico. He sighs heavily, frowning. Nico keeps staring at him, waiting for an answer.

“No. I don’t know. I…” he sighs again. “At worst, I really thought maybe you guys just weren’t exclusive, and that was…” he turns to look at you, and jerks his head in a little nod. “Jesus, you’ve had a crush on him for forever, we all knew it, and I told him you were off limits, so then I was worried that I was the reason he was maybe seeing someone else, too, and…”

You see Nico relax at that, shoulders loosening. You’re sure it must’ve been a tough feeling, to have one of his good friends assume something like that. You’re a bit relieved, too.

You cross your arms over your chest. “Yeah. I heard. How about we agree no more of you deciding things like my dating life for me?”

Jack nods solemnly. Nico raises his hand.

“But you are officially off limits,” he says. You smirk and roll your eyes, and he smiles brightly at you. “Right?”

“Right,” you agree. “But by my own choice.”

He grins at you, and your heart skips a beat again.

“Can we buy you guys dinner to apologize?” Jack asks.

You shrug. “Maybe another day. We have plans.”

Nico nods and stands up, headed for you. He turns to his teammates. “We good?”

“Yeah, man,” Jack says. He narrows his eyes, and you fight not to roll yours, because you know what’s coming next. “But if you hurt her-“

“I know,” Nico says, warmly.

Jack nods. Behind him, Luke raises his hand, a look of concern on his face.

“So. When do we tell Quinn?” He asks.

You, Nico, and Jack exchange a look.

“Maybe never,” Jack says.

“I’m fine with that,” Nico winces.

“Yeah,” you agree. “Need to know basis.”

Nico follows you out of the room and down the hall. He slips his hand into yours as soon as you’re out of sight of your brothers. You could remind him he doesn’t have to wait now, that he doesn’t have to hide it, but you think maybe it’s for the best until things settle down. The two of you are quiet as you walk out to the car, and you huddle close to him at the chill of the night air. The car isn’t far, and the parking lot is empty. He reaches into your jacket pocket and snags your keys- you’ve learned that he hates to let you drive, not because he thinks you’re bad at it, but because he likes driving you around. It’s quite sweet, really, so you let him get in the driver’s seat as you climb into the car.

He pauses once he’s turned it on, and he looks over at you. “You said we have plans? Are we going somewhere?”

You laugh and reach up to cup the side of his face in your hand. He leans into your touch.

“Wherever you want,” you say, quietly. “Just wanted it to be me and you.”

He smiles slowly. It spreads across his face like molasses. Your heart skips a beat in your chest.

“You know I love you?” He says, like it’s so, so obvious. Like he’s just checking, just to make sure.

You nod, because you think you did know, that maybe you’ve known it since you started feeling it too. “Yeah. I know. I love you, too.”

…

You're on the phone with Quinn, nearly a week later, when you slip up. He asks what you’ve been up to, what you did the past week, if your brothers are giving you trouble.

“I’ve just been busy with work,” you tell him. “But Nico and I went to a really cute restaurant last night. I had the best seafood pasta.”

You don’t even realize what you’ve just said. You just wait for Quinn to answer, and you’re met with silence. He coughs, like he’s holding back a laugh.

“Did you mean to tell me that?” He asks, and your stomach drops.

“Fuck!”

Quinn laughs down the line, and your face grows warm. You’d forgotten- Luke and Jack know now, so it feels less like something you need to hide. But Quinn didn’t know, and Quinn is overprotective, and shit, fuck-

“I already knew. I’ve known since your first date,” he admits, and you feel your own face morph into confusion.

“How?”

“I never reveal my sources,” he answers. “But I knew something was up when he took you home from the bar and had you stay the night.”

“You’re all such gossips,” you grumble. “Why didn’t you just tell me you knew?”

He makes a noncommittal noise. “Honestly, it’s been fun to watch all of you dance around it. Once I figured out that Jack also knew, I figured he was keeping an eye on it close enough. Also… he seems like a good enough guy. Of all the hockey guys you could’ve picked, he’s up there, you know?”

You smile softly. “I really love him, Quinn.”

“Gross,” Quinn says. “But I’m happy for you.”

You look over to the front door, where Nico’s just walked in. “Yeah. I know. Hey, I gotta go.”

Your older brother sighs heavily. “Tell Hischier I said hi,” he grumbles. “And that if he hurts you-“

“He knows,” you say.

Across the kitchen, Nico smiles softly. You hang up the phone and melt into his arms.

“Bad day,” you say. “Missed you.”

“I know,” he says. “Missed you too.”

a:/n: thanks for reading! also happy b-day cece!!

[hwalovs]

Days and Nights (M)

Pairing; Mike Schmidt x reader Word count; 2635 Warnings; this is pure smut, maybe a little plot. Kissing, whining, dom/sub themes, unprotected sex (wrap it you freaks), they get right to it, breeding kink? kind of?, they'reliterallyinloveshutupbro

Description; Being the day shift guard has its perks, you get to leave at midnight, you get to leave for lunch while all the fast food restaurants were still open, and you get to see the cute night shift guard before you leave.

A/N; i am feral for this man, I don't know what happened. one day i watched the movie, the next im frothing at the mouth for another white boy. this is so short i might write something longer for him.

after finding my fic reposted on wattpad, I'm going to make clear; DO NOT REPOST THIS WITHOUT ASKING OR WITHOUT PROPER CREDIT.

I will only let this pass once, as for my other fics, DO NOT REPOST THEM.

THIS IS NOT EDITED

Mike was hired two months before you, first seeing you before he started his nightly shift at the pizzeria. You were standing outside, reading through a book before looking up when you heard his car door shut. You smiled, and dropped your book back into your bag before walking over. Your car was parked further away from his, but you went out of your way to walk up to him. 

From then on, you two were friends, always seeing each other after your shift and before his. You always made sure his badge was straight, and he always made sure to tell you to get home safe. Sometimes you both would stop to ask each other about your days, he talked about his sister, and you talked about your cats. 

One day, he got there a little early, wanting to get in and use his time to sleep, to try and find more clues about what happened to his brother. He found you asleep at the security desk. Snoring softly, the monitors flickering in and out. He smiled, setting his stuff down besides yours before walking closer, bending down so he could see you more clearly. One of your cheeks was squished against your arm, your breathing even. 

“(Y/n),” he cooed, reaching up to move a piece of your hair. You stir, slowly opening your eyes before realizing who it was in front of you. Shooting up, you rub your eyes and stutter, looking at him, and then the clock.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t even realize I fell asleep!”

He smiles, standing back up and leaning against the desk. He watched you rush around with tired eyes, collecting your stuff while rattling on how active the animatronics were. 

He found you like once or twice, but never regularly. Sometimes he would find a forgotten coffee cup, and he would smile before throwing it away. It was the little things about you that he was slowly picking up on. He remembered each one, and wanted to learn more about you. 

Mike knew he was in too deep when you were getting ready to leave one day, packing up the rest of your stuff and flashing him that dazzling smile you always did. It made him forget the Dream Theory book resting in his bag, or the pills that accompany it. He forgot for just a second why he was there so early, why he was itching to fall asleep at the desk in the first place. 

You stand from the chair, badge catching the light, and when you sigh and roll your neck, whimpering at the tight knot, he shivers. He shouldn't, he knows that, you're his coworker, someone who endures the same nightmare he did- but he couldn’t stop the thoughts of you underneath him, whimpering as he sunk deeper inside you, stopping when his hips were flush against-

“Mike!” 

Your voice felt like ice water, rattling him until he was back in reality. He shifts, hoping that his sweatshirt covers how hard he was. There was a small part of him, deep within his brain, that did hope you saw, that you’d offer to help him. 

“Yeah?” He clears his throat, swallowing when his mouth waters. Smiling, you tilt your head, and he feels his stomach drop. 

“Did you hear me?”

He curses himself, “yeah! Yeah.”

Your eyes narrow, “what did I say, then?”

You were teasing him. You had to be, you were smiling again, and as you walked closer, he tried to rack his brain, trying to remember what you were saying. 

“Cat got your tongue?” Your voice is quiet, and you’re right in front of him. He can smell your perfume, can see the shine of your chapstick that's on your lips. 

“I- uh-”

“You’re so cute,” you chuckle, and it throws him off balance. He almost falls from the whiplash you’ve given him. You usually don’t stop to talk to him like this, you usually pack up and bid your goodbyes, warning him on the animatronics movement- but with how close you were, that he could smell your perfume, he realized he didn’t care. You were here, in front of him, calling him cute.

“What?”

You lean in close this time, your breath tickling his ear. 

“You heard me, Mike. Or are you lost in your thoughts again?”

Your lips press against his and it's the only thing he can think about. Your lips taste like strawberries, and your mouth tastes exactly like he thought it would. Your hands are in his hair, and his are gripping your waist tightly. 

He wonders when he’ll wake up, if this is a dream. When you lightly bite his lip, he moans, and comes to the conclusion that you’re real, and you’re kissing him. 

Pushing you both from the doorway, he backs you up to the desk. Kicking the chair away, he blindly reaches behind you to push away the small controllers that litter the top. He hears something crash onto the floor, but pays it no mind when you're sucking on his tongue. 

His hands reach under your thighs, lifting you onto the desk, and your hands fumble at his belt, the fog that settled on his mind clears for a moment, and he pulls away.

“Here?”

You furrow your eyebrows, before smirking and leaning forwards, “you don’t want it?”

“I do- I really do-”

“Then what’s stopping you?” He tries to think, but can’t when it's only youyouyou on his mind. Flooding his senses, invading his thoughts and making him feel crazy ever since the day he met you. His jeans are tight, and he can feel the precum that's pooling in his underwear. 

“Fuck,” he surges to kiss you again, reaching down to unbutton your jeans. He slides his hands into the waistband, and you use the edge of the desk to push yourself up, letting him yank the jeans off in one fluid motion, your panties going with it. 

The desk was cold on your skin, but you didn’t care when Mike lifted his shirt, biting into the fabric and pushing his pants down far enough to free his cock.

In any other situation, Mike would have you in his bed, pillow under your hips while he eats you out for hours on end. He knew you would taste amazing, just like he knew your mouth would taste amazing. You were perfect to him, and that's the only thing on his mind when he was pressing into you. 

Mike's cock was thick, stretching you out perfectly, a slight burn following. You didn’t stop him, though, because his eyes were locked onto where his cock was slowly sinking into you, and his hands were shaking at the warmth you brought him. 

The monitors behind you continued to show the empty space of the Pizzaria, but it was at the back of both of your minds. Mike’s shirt was still caught between his teeth, his stomach smooth and perfect. He didn’t make a sound until his hips were flush against yours, and the whine he let out made you clench around him. 

His eyebrows furrowed, and he finally looked up at you, pupils dilated, curly hair a mess. Reaching up, you pull the shirt from between his teeth, the fabric wet, and grab the back of his head to drag him into a kiss. His lips are hot against yours, and his tongue licks into your mouth desperately. He moans as he tastes you again, and you grab his hips, trying to pull him further. 

When you pull away, you suck onto his bottom lip, looking at him through your lashes, “look at you,” you coo, “you’re so pretty, baby.”

He whines, blushing as he grinds against you. Finally finding a slow rhythm of deep thrusts. It lets you feel all of him, and lets him feel all of you. He stretched you out so well, and it almost felt like you could feel him in your stomach. He was perfect. 

“You’re so warm,” he whimpers, forehead resting against yours. Pulling at your vest, you manage to throw it to the floor with his, the metal badge chiming against the linoleum. He seems to understand what you’re doing, reaching for the end of your t-shirt, pulling it up quickly. The office was cold, your nipples hardening underneath your bra. You grab at his shirt next, his arms raising so you’re able to throw the shirt to the floor. His hips falter, but he continues.

Mike begins to leave kisses down your neck, biting your bra strap to push it to the side, letting it fall down your arm. He grabs the top of your bra, yanking it down and groaning at the sight of your exposed chest. 

“Fuck,” he curses, licking his lips before surging forwards, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples, tongue swirling the bud. Your head falls back against the top of the monitor, moaning loudly. 

Mike pulls away, a string of saliva connects his bottom lip to your nipple, but you lift your head to move closer, licking the spit from his lip to kiss him again. 

There was a heat slowly building in your gut, and you wrap an arm around Mike’s shoulders, trying to make him go harder, to go faster, but he just looks at you with a smirk.

“What is it? Huh?” He asks, his breath heavy. You whine, nails scratching at his skin. 

“Mike-”

He tsks, “common, baby,” he coos, “talk to me.”

“Please- Mike please- harder, fuck me harder,” theres a heat in your cheeks, and you feel your eyes burn at the building coil in your gut. 

Yet, Mike only looks at you with a growing smile, “Harder? You want me to fuck you harder, baby? But why?” He whines, “You feel so good like this.”

“Oh my god,” you moan in frustration, hand reaching in between you both to reach your clit, but his hand grabs your wrist, pinning it behind your back. 

“What is it, baby?”

There's that teasing smirk again, and you can feel your eyes burn. Your orgasm was right there, yet he was slowing down, causing it to be pushed further away. 

“I wanna cum, please, Mike- Please make me cum,” a sob threatens to spill from your lips, but Mike shushes you, kissing you softly. His stubble tickles your cheeks as he lays kisses onto your skin. He bites onto your neck, moaning as you clench around him again, sucking until the skin is bright red. 

He grabs onto your hips, leaning back to look down at where he disappears into you, and begins thrusting harder, letting go of your wrist to allow you to grab onto his shoulders once more. Bringing a hand to his mouth, he licks the pad of his thumb before snaking it between your bodies, rubbing tight circles around your clit. 

Throwing your head back, you almost cry at the hot coil in your stomach threatening to snap, and you can feel the tears that roll down your cheeks. 

“Please- Please, make me cum- wanna cum so bad-” you begging, pleading, in jumbled words that Mike can barely make out. Your legs are locked around his waist, pulling him closer. 

When you cum, your thighs tense around his waist, almost stopping him. Your mouth drops open, and a soft whine falls from your lips. You're clenching so tight around him, Mike almost cums himself, but bends down to bite onto your shoulder to stop himself. He refuses to cum yet, he wants to keep making you feel good. To see you fall apart around him again. 

He leaves another kiss where he was biting down on you, pulling away to leave kisses across your cheeks, before finally stopping to kiss you once more. You're breathing heavily, thighs shaking from the intense orgasm. 

Sliding out of you, he whines softly, pulling you from the desk so you’re standing, he only smiles at your confused face, grabbing your neck softly to pull you into another kiss, tongue licking into your mouth.

“Turn around, baby,” he sighs, holding your hips as you do. The table digs into your hips as you bend down, breasts pressing flat against the cold surface, but he tsks, grabbing your neck once more to pull you back up. His thumb was below your jaw, pressing against your pulse point just enough to feel your heart race.

He uses his other hand to press onto your lower back, making you arch, then reaching down to grab his cock once more and slide through your folds. You were so wet, cum slowly beginning to drip down your thighs. In one smooth thrust, Mike presses his hips flush against your ass, his hand still lightly gripping your neck to keep you against his chest. 

“There you go,” he whimpers, pressing kisses along your shoulders. He starts to thrust again, and you have to bite your lip to stop from moaning loudly. 

He felt so much deeper like this, hitting the spot inside you that had your eyes rolling back. 

There was still a buzz from your orgasm, but it was quickly building into another. Your thighs were shaking, and your palms were flat on the desk, nails digging into the wood. 

“M’gonna cum again-” you moan, knees almost buckling as the rapidly building heat. Mike smiles from behind you, but moves his hand from your waist again, snaking it down once more to circle his fingers around your swollen clit. 

“Again? You gonna cum for me again, pretty girl?”

“Oh my god- Mike-” You’re cumming before you even realize it. Head blank except for the thought of him-

His grip on your throat tightens just slightly, and you reach up to grab his wrist. His hips falter, breathy moans filling your ears as he presses your hips harder into the desk. You knew there would be bruising, but at the moment you didn’t care. You would let Mike do anything he wanted to you, as long as he kept making those heavenly noises for you. 

“You feel so fuckin’ good baby,” he slurs, “my pretty baby- you’re just perfect f’me- Perfect fuckin’ pussy too-” 

“Mike, please” you whimper, arching your back more for him. 

He hums, thrusting harder into you, “that's right baby-” he leans forwards to tilt your head, locking eyes with you, “say my name.”

“Mike-”

He groans, head rolling until your noses touch, “again, say it again baby- please-”

“Mike!-” 

“I’m gonna cum- fuck-” 

Your hand is wrapping around the grab onto him, nails dragging across his skin, “Inside me- please cum inside me- wanna feel you so bad-” 

Mike’s thrusts stop, grinding against you as he spills inside of you. Uttering your name under his breath like it's the only thing he’s ever known. 

You were everything he’s ever wanted. To have you clenching so tight around him, to be able to have you like this was like a dream to him. He never wanted to wake, he wanted to stay here with you forever, but as you both collected yourselves, his cum sliding down your thighs and dripping onto the floor, he knew better than that. He’s sitting in that uncomfortable chair again, watching as you slide your jeans on. You forgo your panties, reaching down to unzip his bag, smiling as you let them drop inside. 

“Do you wanna go on a date?”

You laugh, and it fills the room with a brightness he knew only you could bring. 

“I think we’re way past going on a date.”

“Then how about dinner? I make a mean Spaghetti and meatballs,” he smiles, and feels like his world is complete when you lean down to press a kiss to his lips, “I’d love that.”

[ventismacchiato]

O9 stuck with you — mile high club !

scaramouche x gender neutral reader

The universe had blessed you with great looks, an overflow of talent, and a great personality. But you couldn’t have it all, which was why your irrational fear of flying was a great target for your friends to bully you for. 

It was a great insecurity of yours, but you knew they meant well. 

You hadn’t slept a wink the night before as you started to accept your fate of sitting next to the higher evil for an entire flight – Scaramouche.

“Don’t look so down,” Venti tries to comfort, his mouthful of powdered donuts, “You can just sleep the entire time.”

“As if I would feel at ease sleeping next to him,” you mutter, “He’d probably push me off the plane.”

You spare a glance over to where Scara was seated beside his members, the other three loudly playing a game of UNO as he flipped through some manga with his headphones on. He looked up and caught your eye, raising a brow as you quickly avert your eyes. Unlike him you were unable to sit still.

“Alright, it’s time to board!” Jean says, shuffling through a stack of passports, she hadn’t trusted any of you to keep them on yourselves, “It’s a private plane so once everyone is settled we’ll take off.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Lisa laughed as she slid past Jean to start boarding with a face mask already applied.

You let yourself fall back and let everyone go ahead of you, fidgeting with your necklace as you ended up right behind Scaramouche.

The airplane cabin was a tight squeeze as you and Scaramouche were forced into a small space together. The plane was smaller than usual so it could land safely on the island and Jean had thought making you guys fly economy would get you ready for the harsh reality of the island. And just your luck, you had a window seat. Once you were seated you couldn’t help but give sporadic glances towards the glass. It didn’t look very strong.

Whenever you had to board a plane you usually had Xiao or Lumine beside you, and they’d let you grab onto their arm during takeoff. It was a stupid fear, you knew that, but it didn’t stop the anxiety bubbling its way up to your skin.

You were so out of it you didn’t even comprehend the man you hated was less than a few inches away from you, giving you judgemental glances as you kept wringing your hands and rocking back and forth in your seat. You hadn’t even called him ugly yet. Even he was confused at the sudden lack of hostility.

Scaramouche glanced at you with a mixture of annoyance and disbelief as he was in his seat beside you, “Get up,” he demanded sharply.

“What?” you mumble, not registering his tone as you start staring out the little glass window. God, how high were you guys going to fly?

“I said get up and switch seats with me. Are you deaf?” The forcefulness in his voice left no room for argument.

You hesitated, looking down at your shaking hands. “Really?”

Scaramouche huffed as he stood up, yanking you up from your seat and gesturing for you to move before taking your previous spot without a word.

“Thank you,” you sigh, feeling a bit of the tension in your shoulders release. Still too distressed to realize you were thanking Scaramouche out of all people. It was the equivalent to thanking the devil for world hunger in your eyes. 

Scaramouche rolled his eyes, “Don’t thank me. I did it because your shaking was annoying,” he grumbles, reaching over to grab your hand and wave it around to prove his point. 

As he took the window seat, he noticed your continuous anxious peeks towards the window. Without a word, he reached over and pulled down the window curtain with a decisive motion, blocking out the view that was making you more uneasy by the second.

The pilot announced that it would begin its takeoff, and you immediately felt your heart race, trying to control your breathing. Scaramouche, who had already hooked on his headphones, still couldn’t tune out your incessant fidgeting, 

With a roll of his eyes and an exasperated sigh he gently but firmly pushed your head between your knees. “Just stay like that until we’re steady,” he instructed, his tone less harsh than before as he kept his palm on your upper back. 

Once the plane leveled out and the turbulence eased, Scaramouche pulled you back up by your collar. 

“God, you’re pathetic. You better not throw up on me,” he said with an edge of irritation, but there was a hint of something else in his voice that you couldn’t quite place.

Overwhelmed by fear and unable to focus on his insults, you instinctively grabbed his arm, clinging to it as if it were a lifeline. Scaramouche glanced down at you, surprise flashing in his eyes. For a moment, he seemed at a loss for how to handle the situation.

With a sigh that spoke of reluctant empathy, Scaramouche allowed you to hold onto his arm. He didn’t pull away or complain, simply letting you grasp his arm tightly until you began to calm down. 

“Just… let me know when you’re ready to let go,” he muttered, his usual bravado tempered by a rare moment of patience as he turned his head away, burying it in his other palm. 

You nodded, still gripping his arm but feeling your fear gradually subside. After a few minutes, when you felt more composed, you slowly released your hold. The post fear clarity hit you hard.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, the gratitude in your voice palpable despite the strained circumstances.

Scaramouche just huffed, turning his attention back to his phone. “Whatever, try not to lose it on me again or I really will throw you off.”

As the flight continued, the atmosphere between you and Scaramouche shifted slightly. For the brief few hours in the sky, he went easier on you.

It was odd to not be treated like dirt by him for once. Oddly nice. 

The island was serene at night. The gentle lapping of the waves against the shore provided you with a soothing lullaby and a sight just as enchanting. You’d always loved the ocean, the crispy and fresh scent it brought you. You walked along the beach, relishing in the sensation of burying your feet in the warm sand in an attempt to clear your mind.

You couldn't sleep, the anticipation of tomorrow's filming gnawing at your nerves. The beach was mostly empty, save for a solitary figure sitting by the water. As you approached, your heart jumped into your throat, a rush of fear surging through you.

"Relax, it's me, dumbass," came a familiar, exasperated voice. Scaramouche.

"Great," you muttered, feeling your heartbeat slow to a normal pace. "Just what I needed."

"Can you go away? There's so much beach to sit on. I'm trying to have a moment," Scaramouche said, his tone dripping with irritation.

"You aren't the only one who can have an emo moment," you shot back, plopping down a few feet away from him. "Why are you even here?"

"Same reason as you," he replied, staring out at the ocean.

The silence stretched between you, the only sound the waves breaking on the shore. After a while, you broke the silence. "I could push you in right now, you know."

"I can swim, idiot," he replied, not even bothering to look at you.

“Another thing you can do,” you mutter, bringing your knees up to tuck under your chin. You look to your left to see Scaramouche drawing circles in the sand.

"Sometimes you don’t realize how good you have it," you whisper, but in the quiet of the night he hears it and looks over at you.

He scoffs, "You think I have it good? You're welcome to take my place anytime."

“I’m just saying, It’s annoying when you’re the only one I keep losing to,” you murmured. You needed to tape your mouth shut, at this point you were just giving him more ammo to fight you with. Your inferiority complex didn’t need any more reasons.

“God, you really are stupid,” Scara says, his tone dry. Before you could haul his ass into the ocean, he continues,

"Just because you keep losing to me doesn’t make you inferior," Scaramouche says so quietly you almost miss it, his voice surprisingly gentle. "Are you that stupid? If I'm the only person you can't beat, then that’s a win." He looks over to where you were peering at him, “Why am I even competing with someone as idiotic as you?”

You looked away, his words not sounding like spewed garbage once in your life. 

A few more minutes passed in quiet contemplation. Eventually, you stood up, brushing the sand off your pants. "I'm going to the kitchen for a snack."

"Why are you announcing it?" Scaramouche scoffs, finally glancing over at you.

You shrugged. "I don't know."

To your surprise, he got up and followed you. 

"Why are you so obsessed with me?" you grumbled.

"I'm literally just hungry, you self-absorbed freak," he shot back, but there was a gloominess to his tone that made you glance at him with a bit more curiosity.

You’d only stepped into the kitchen that afternoon during the tour, so you spent a good five minutes looking for hot cocoa powder as Scaramouche was no help whatsoever.

Scaramouche watched you with a judgemental eye as you dumped too much powder into a cup of milk and turned the heat on too high, causing the drink to froth and overflow. 

"That's gross," he finally said, pushing you aside and taking over. "You're doing it all wrong."

"Like you could do any better," you retorted, but you watched as he made the cocoa, and you had to admit it looked better than your attempt. He even found marshmallows and threw it into your cup, leaving his empty of it. He started walking back to the dorms, and not wanting to be left behind you trailed behind him, steaming mugs in hand.

You hissed as the heat permeating through the mug scorched your palms.

“You really can’t do anything,” Scaramouche drawls, taking your cup away from you as he went ahead of you.

“I don’t need you to hold it,” you huff, jogging to catch up with him.

As you entered the common area, everyone was gathered around, playing the board games that Yoimiya had brought. 

Childe looked up and grinned while rolling a pair of dice, "Hey, look, matching hot cocoa! How cute."

Lumine smirked. "Awww, you two are such couple goals!"

You and Scaramouche immediately started squabbling, your voices rising in indignation. "We're not a couple!" you both shouted in unison, glaring at each other.

“You guys are even in sync!” Aether sighed, “Goals. Literal goals.”

“Whatever,” Scaramouche huffed, placing your mug back in your hands and shoving past you all to head to his room.

“Awe, not going to join us for Monopoly?” Venti calls out.

Scaramouche answers by slamming his door shut.

stuck with you!

masterlist — prev | next

sorry if u aren’t actually afraid of heights i wanted to include that scene so yn has to be a wuss sorry xx me personally tho i love flying

i hope i wrote modern yae well? i listened to a bunch of voicelines to figure out how her and scara wud interact in this universe 😭

please comment on the masterlist if you’d like me to use your user as a fan in the au!

synopsis — after the disaster that was the live award show, where you and scaramouche got into an argument on stage after both of your groups got a tie for top artists, your guys' PR teams have been in shambles trying to scrape up your mess. that's when the idea to send you both off with some other idols to a remote location for a survival dating show to mend your public image comes up. before you know it your bags are packed and you’re on a plane to a remote island. the only obligation is you need to end up with scaramouche at the end of the show, whether you end up liking him or not doesn’t matter to your managers as long as the show’s ratings stay high. whatever you do in between to get there is up to you!

notes — chat did we enjoy this chapter

taglist — @na1lea @cindywasneverhere @lunavixia @aestherin @mlaakai @camvrin @retiredmommylover @iheartpieck @jangyung @cartierfiles @loveariel @silly-ez @mochipls @pomeiu @chuuismylife @flowerypesky @creammpuff @justanothertiredreader @boxdisappeared @kissmiere @kissingkzuha @webbywill @kazusboyfriend @s3xpistolss @pjsucks @bunns-wonderland @lordbugs @localgirlywithnolife @kosumos @danfelions @featuredtofu @pinxeajin @herebyaccident0 @haeunoo @scaradooche @pglt19 @chemiru @childesbabygirl @simonisferal @shutingstar @vxcmx @domimiki @ttalgi @esuz @tokkishouse @kitsuvil @scarasmood @ihearttori @nomurahayami @starringyau @androxphobic @kazuhasbabe

[raitonsfw]

𝟸𝟻𝟶 𝟶𝟶𝟶 𝚢𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 | 𝚐𝚘𝚓𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚞 ꨄ

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: Gojo was a big fucking spender, whether you liked it or not. Almost every clothing item he owned ranged well over the price of 150 000 yen, even his shoes; sometimes those were more expensive. Coming home one day from work, there’s a pink gift bag (complete with a lil bow and all) sitting pretty on the ottoman for you. As you opened it, black expensive lace peeked back at you and so did the price, zeros going on for miles on the tiny tag.

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, fem!reader, boyfriend!gojo, rich!gojo, dirty talk, lingerie (and the tearing of it), grinding (if you squint), fingering, cunnilingus, slight breeding kink, p in v intercourse, creampie, insecurity (about how much gojo spends), corny pick up lines, sayings, & jokes, pet names (sweetheart, baby, angel, pretty, princess, good girl), lovedrunk, feral, & pussywhipped gojo (man loves you, would hang the moon for you fr), a surprise near the end (i said he loves you goddammit)

a/n: happy february 1st (finally can say it without the queue messing up my schedule) anyway, here's my second valentine for you loves! i hope you enjoy, until next week! 💌 wc: 3.4k. v-day m.list | m.list

a/n pt 2: p.s. i'm such a sucker for writing gojo kinda cringey. alsoo its not my best work but i did what i could!

divider credit: @hitobaby & @firefly-graphics

Coming home was the biggest mistake you had made in your entire life, because what the fuck was this? Your fingers held up a piece of lace material, black in color and you puzzled at it as you noticed that the lingerie piece barely looked as though it’d cover anything; thanks to your million dollar boyfriend.

“It’s gorgeous, huh?” You heard his promiscuous voice ring out through the living room at just the right time, when your voice cursed him to the high heavens. You nearly jumped out of your skin, the lingerie falling near your feet and you turned quickly to face him, his hip popped against the doorframe.

“Satoru!” Your face was bright red, the blush spreading down your neck and you hid your face underneath your sweatshirt sleeve with a scowl. Gojo was in his usual sorcerer uniform, complete with the black blindfold covering the vivid blue and you still tried to shy away from him even though you knew you couldn’t. Not when his eyes saw all, saw the way yours glistened at the thoughtful gift.

“Hey sweetheart. Like the gift?” 

“I told you not to buy me any more lingerie…” You huffed, glancing at the tag as you went to put the set back in the bag. There was an infinite amount of zeroes littering the price tag and you almost dropped the lingerie piece again– in utter shock that the fucking price was over 250,000 yen. “Oh my God…”

“Oh, please. I know you, you don’t wear lingerie sets more than twice. And last time I checked, I tore the last one.” He smirked, walking towards you with a tiny skip in his step and your hands trembled as you smoothed the lace over with your delicate fingers. “Besides, your favorite store was having a Valentine’s Day sale and I just had to have you in that.” 

Right, it was Valentine’s Day soon. 

“A sale?! This doesn’t look like a price tag for a sale. More like someone’s monthly rent, -toru.” You frowned, feeling Gojo’s strong arms fold underneath your waist and he took the fabric in his hands. Unfurling it from its tangled confines, he draped it over you with a gentle hum of a tune evading your surroundings.

“Hold it like that for me.” Gojo murmured as he stepped around you, standing in front of you while checking behind him as he backed up slightly. He focused on you, his fingers coming up to ‘snap a picture’ and you blushed profusely when you saw the dopey smile that mustered up on his face. Your blush turned into another scowl though as you remembered the price of it, how could he just spend money so fruitlessly?

Gojo lifted his blindfold for a few seconds to glance at your figure; you could see the gears turning in his head and you wouldn’t be very surprised if he sprouted an erection right then and there. But he also noticed your glowering eyes and his lighthearted demeanor faded away, a worried look washing over his face.

“What’re mad for, baby? I wasn’t going to pass up the chance to spoil you.” 

“You spend so much on me, I’m not worth that much.” You muttered, starting to fold the lingerie set to put it back in the bag; away and out of sight from you.

You usually liked Gojo’s sweet gestures, gifts piled at your doorstep like it was Christmas every month normally but this time it just seemed a bit out of place– you knew him to flaunt his wealth alot but this? He’s never gotten you something so expensive. You couldn’t accept such a generous gift that would be soiled within minutes of wearing it.

“Excuse me? Where’d you learn that crazy talk from?” Gojo said with an exasperated gasp, coming to embrace you and you didn’t answer him as he pulled you close. His hands feathered through your hair and honestly you couldn’t breath through the fabric of his jacket, the turtleneck part of it threatening to strangle you as he squeezed himself around you in a tight hug.

“Don’t ever think that! I would buy the world for you if I could manage to fit it inside a gift box.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh into his chest, his words souring after they sat for a minute. “That was so cringey, Satoru.” 

“You still love me though, perks of being me… I think?” Gojo let go of you, holding you by your shoulders now and you reached up to slip his blindfold fully off. He blinked through the dimness of the apartment, his eyes fixating on you once more. 

There was something that just made you feel so in love with him, everytime you managed to zero in on those hypnotic eyes of his– almost every bad thought melted away and yeah, you were definitely overreacting. 

Let the man spoil you, if he so wishes.

“Yes, I still love you.” You fonded, planting a luscious kiss against his lips and he had no qualms, his mouth instantly moving against you eagerly. Gojo softly moaned into the kiss, one of his hands snaking down your back towards your ass and you squeaked out as he gave you a tiny swat against the plushness of it.

“Great, now go try on the lingerie.” Thrusting the bag back into your hands, he grinned at you and there was no way in hell you could deny him– not with the way he looked, so ecstatic to see you in the precious lace garments he bought you.

Putting it on wasn’t much of a struggle, it fit you nicely in all the right places. The full length mirror did you just enough justice, staring back at a body that had devious curves and everything in between the skimpy lace that barely covered your intimates. You weren't all that self conscious, though you weren’t sure what you’d do once you were in front of Gojo. Where would he look first? 

Would his eyes lay against your breasts that bobbed in the lace, perched up prettily or would they drag to your soft thighs, cuffed in the garter belt holding up the thigh highs that accented the set? Would they focus on your mound and in the middle, your drenched pussy staining the thin fabric or would he drool over everything all at once? 

“Baby… Are you done yet? I’m getting lonely.” You heard him mewl outside the door, a soft tap from his knuckle echoing through the bathroom and you nodded to yourself, adjusting little bits and pieces of the thread to make sure it sat perfectly for him. 

You paused with your hand on the doorknob. Why were you so goddamn nervous? 

“You have it on? C’mon, let me see already.” 

As you opened the door, Gojo wasn’t in front of it anymore. Instead, he was seated on the lavish sofa that met in the center of the room, his head lying lazily against the back of it with his arms extended. His thighs were spread apart on the cushions, his legs folding outwards and you could already see a lush bulge in his trousers, peaked with interest as he waited impatiently for you. You wanted to skip the shame of twirling for him and just sit yourself right against it, sit yourself down on it and just–

Gojo’s head snapped up– he must’ve sensed you– and his bright eyes zeroed in on your face first. Then they trailed down towards your body, drinking in the adorned curves of the lingerie on you and his mouth fell open in a quiet sigh. “Y/N…” 

You walked towards him, a small sway to your step and his hands pressed down against the sofa as you neared him. They nearly white knuckled it, his mouth still open and his eyes flickering over every crevice of the threads decorating you– his knees had quickly pressed together and you’ve never seen him so flustered in your entire life. Sure, you’ve modeled for him here and there with other gorgeous sets; but this was different. 

Was this your Satoru? The ego induced maniac who could and would knock you off your feet with a single flirtatious remark? It was refreshing to see him like this– reduced to nothing but boyish clouded lust.

“You going to say something other than my name, baby?” You asked, pureness reining your voice and you purred inwardly when he was still speechless. You eyed at the seam of his trousers, noticing the way it tented up considerably just from a few seconds of gazing you over. “Satoru?” 

“Hi, yes sorry. Come here.” Gojo’s hand faltered slightly as he reached for you and you happily obliged, straddling his lap. A low hum escaped him as you sat flush with his clothed cock against your heat, his legs spreading apart again to let you sink down onto him comfortably. “Holy hell, is this heaven ‘cause you look like–” 

“So help me if you finish that sentence, I’ll take this off.” You interrupted, getting ready to move off of him but his hands grasped your hips greedily. 

“That’s what I’m hoping for, angel.” A naughty grin crept up on his face as he pulled you into a warm kiss. Yeah, it’s definitely your Satoru.

His tongue slid past your lips easily and his eyes slipped shut, drawing you closer to him– faintly aware of the slickness that roughed up his trousers. You bit his lip seductively and a startled moan spilled into your mouth heavily, his hips subtly rocking up into you. It was needy and desperate and everything you ever wanted to hear and feel from him, because of course he was already riled up– just look at you.

His fingers looped inside the lace of your panties, rubbing his fingertips against the seams of it and you hummed as they curved towards the where you needed it most. His other hand fondled your breast, the flesh of it spilling out over the cups and all he wanted to do was press a tender kiss to your nipple, sucking it in between his teeth to nip and tug til it reddened with overstimulation. 

“Are you going to touch me or…” You shook him from his daze, earning a sarcastic snort from him.

You moaned quietly as his hand immediately slipped underneath the fabric, toying with your nipple until it hardened and a gentle finger swiped through the slick that collected inside your panties. He tsked, “Already ruining the lace, so filthy…” 

You let out a tiny huff, intending to apologize when two of his fingers sunk through your arousal and you leaned into him with a whimper. Gojo didn't hesitate to mark up your neck as soon as you moved forward, his teeth grazing alongside the nasty bruises and your hips jutted out as he expertly curled his digits into you. You whined into his ear– a glorious symphony if he must say so himself– and his thumb pressed into the swell of your clit. Sucking a languid hickey against the near front of your neck, he noticed you had started to move against him– fucking your perfect cunt down onto his pliant fingers.

Every roll of your hips, his cock got some action as well; as your clit rubbed against the tip of his cock that threatened to burst out of his trousers now. Holy fuck, he was straining too– he knew you could feel it as you sat right against it. He was losing his train of thought more and more by the second as you panted out, he needed more– so much more, his dick was nearly crying as it leaked out tiny droplets of precum in his boxers. If you weren’t so lost in pleasure at the moment, you would’ve noticed the small wet spot forming in the fabric– his jujutsu uniform’s probably going to need to be dry cleaned.

He would finish his pick up line if he could speak, his voice not quite there anymore– you looked like a heaven sent angel veiled in the lingerie of a hell spawned devil. 

From his angle, Gojo could see the swell of your ass lightly jiggling, the lace barely covering it and the flesh of your thighs sat beautifully against his own and honestly he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed you, his vision blackening with lust as you worked yourself fully open on his fingers now. His cock ached so fucking badly and he vaguely noted to get you crotchless lingerie next time so he could just slide right in without needing to fumble with the weird straps. 

When your breath hitched in your throat as your clit spasming directly against the frenulum of his cock, his tip desperately trying to dip into the lace through his thick fucking clothing– he lost it.

“Fuck it…” You heard him growl against your laced breast as he popped it out of its cup, the entire bralette tearing on impact. You gasped at the ripping sound, but you were too delirious to scold him as his fingers started fucking faster into you to keep you quiet about the torn lingerie. Gojo snagged your nipple in his mouth with a frantic moan, his fingers coated with slick as he pulled them out quickly to tear off your panties. They shedded easily and you were left with remnants of lace pristine against your body, another gasp coming from you as you realized what he did.

“-toru, what are you–?!” 

Before you could finish your sentence, your entire figure was thrown against the cushions of the sofa and his shirt and trousers were stripped from his body. His eyes were trained on your ripped lingerie and you couldn’t quite figure out what was going on in his head until he yanked the rest of it off, excluding your thigh highs. And now you were exposed in front of him and he was out 250,000 yen; because he just couldn’t keep his composure.

“I’ll buy you another set, I swear– though I can’t guarantee it’ll survive…” Gojo said under his breath, planting kisses down the span of your chest. He trailed them towards your tummy, innate circles rubbing into your hips and he shuddered at how the garter belt sat snug against your waist– and how easy it was to tear off, his teeth latching on it with fervor. You gasped as you felt the band snap, your thigh highs falling  down slightly where they sat as they were no longer held up by the precious lace. 

He grabbed the extra lace from his mouth and threw it somewhere across the room, his tongue immediately delving into your tight heat. A broken whine was coaxed from your throat as he fucked it in and out needily, quiet pants breathing over your cunt. Gojo’s hands grabbed at your thighs, pressing his nose straight into your clit as he lapped at everything he could reach and you couldn’t help the wanton moans that leaked from your mouth, your hands grasping at his snowy hair.

He was downright animalistic at this point. You carved his shoulder blades with your nails, desperate for him to drive you over the edge; your impending orgasm making your legs tremble. “Satoru, shit– c-close…”

“C’mon, cum for me, pretty.” He murmured into your cunt, slightly muffled and you keened up into his mouth– ultimately fucking yourself on his tongue. And God, did he groan at that; his hums of utter satisfaction basically sent you spasming through your climax. Your hands flew to the edge of the sofa, clutching tightly as you rolled your hips into the insane pleasure– into his mouth that lapped up every drool of arousal that leaked out from your convulsions. He was vain with it too, looping out his fucking name against your folds to claim you as you whimpered his name.

“T-Take me with you to shop next time.” You managed out as you sat up on your elbows, looking down at him while you came down from your high. “I’ll decide what you can and can’t rip.” 

Gojo tutted out a laugh, coming up to hover over you– his chin glinted with your juices and you reddened at the sight of how goddamn needy you were. “Fine, baby– now arch your back f’ me.”

His cock prodded your entrance, slender fingers wrapped around the base of it as he guided it into you greedily and you threw your head back against the arm of the sofa with a whine. You did exactly as he said; you arched your back into the intoxicating pleasure, his cock stretching you out and filling every bit of space you could give him. He fit perfectly within you everytime, which made you dizzy with lust as you hooked one hand around the back of his neck.

“Always take me so well, princess.” Gojo purred, not bothering to let you adjust as he started to snap his hips into you. “Fits like a glove, huh?” 

You were so sore already– from the last orgasm wreaking havoc– but you couldn’t get enough of his long cock drilling into you, every thrust kissing your cervix and making your walls clench around him with whimpers drowning out the riveting squelches. You managed to look up at him, his fingertips nudging into the plush of your thighs, against the sleek material of your thigh highs and you knew he wasn’t going to last very long. 

His eyes were already rolling back into his head at every fill of his cock dragging against your walls, his jaw slack and you were surprised at how pussy whipped he was– normally he’d watch you religiously writhe underneath him. His hair was disheveled as he ran his hand through it before frantically gripping your thigh again, panting out curses and you inadvertently squeezed hard around him at the action with a high pitched moan. 

“Oh– fuck, holy shit..! Keep squeezing me like that, we’re g-gonna have to go shopping–” Gojo groaned out, his cock pounding into you harder now, pleasure coursing through your entire body as he hit your sweet spot dead on. 

“F-For more lingerie?” 

“No, for a fucking crib.”

“Fuck, Satoru– faster.” You whined out, completely obsessed with the thought and you felt your second climax tremble through your thighs, straight towards the throbbing of your cunt. ‘Cum in me, -toru…please.”

Gojo didn’t answer you, too wrapped up in your pretty pussy with hefty moans pouring out of him and his fingers slipped down towards your clit. He rubbed circles against it, interchanging his angle to fuck you deeper, faster– and you could feel how close you were.

“Got another surprise for you on Valentine’s Day, baby…” He started babbling, his chest rising and falling as he rutted into you. His eyes slipped from his cock, creamy and wet from your arousal, to your eyes now. “Involves a little jewelry piece, think you’ll love it… Think you’ll love me even more.” 

You didn’t hear him though, too caught up in your release caving in every sense you had and replacing them with pure euphoria. You couldn’t fucking see, hear, even think as it overtook your body. You came so hard around his cock, clenching and unclenching which brought Gojo to his own release rather quickly. He stilled in you with a harsh whine and his eyes squeezed shut as he came in you, white ropes leaking out rather abruptly. 

He repeated soft praises like ‘good girl, take it all…’ and ‘gonna make sure none drools outta you, so good for me’ a few times in a needy tone, collapsing against your chest afterwards. Gojo buried his face into your neck, smoothing his hands over the thigh highs you had on. 

“I’m so sorry about the lingerie, Y/N…” He apologized, his eyes glancing up towards yours as he moved over to litter kisses on your cheek. “We’ll go shopping tomorrow, I promise. You’ll pick out your Valentine’s Day lingerie set and I’ll watch you model it for me–”

You interrupt him with a soft kiss, humming against his lips. “It wasn’t my money, it was yours, you idiot.”

Gojo blinked at you, then a mischievous look crossed his face. “How about a nice pink set this time? Frilly, rose hearts covering your perky nipples and–” 

“Satoru.”

a/n: wanna get tagged in future writing posts? join my taglist!

[erwinsvow]

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬

summary: how you and rafe got started <3

author's note: if i could stop losing my brain cells over rafe cameron for a minute that would be great but i can't so here it is <3 this is mostly cute but in the shea cinematic universe this establishes the beginning of what can only be a hopelessly codependent relationship <3 more parts to come! also none of this would be written without the surge of inspo i get from reading every single one of @princessbrunette's posts but in particular this one, this one, and this<3 one!

now spinning: one of the girls by the weeknd & jennie

Rafe’s always thought you were cute. 

Cute, he’d think to himself in passing, on a hot summer day when he was getting ready to take beers from the fridge and go find the boys at the country club. He didn’t need to steal anything, the waitress at the club always gave him whatever drink he asked for, but he just felt like taking them from the house today. 

You were dawdling around the house with a bored Sarah, all dressed up with nowhere to go. Sarah was texting on her phone, likely engaging in a virtual fight with Topper. He’d feel bad, but the two of them did it to themselves. You were at the counter with Wheezie, leaning on your elbows while the two of you discussed something. He didn’t really care, until he met your eyes for a second. 

Cute. The way you met his eyes and then looked away, face heating up. You were in a bikini and a coverup, probably waiting for his sister before spending the day on the beach or at the pool. The cover up was white and see through, covering everything to the point where no one could see anything but the faint yellow of your bikini underneath.

Leaning on the counter, when you looked away, he got a glimpse into the top of your dress. He could make out little yellow flowers on the material of your bikini and the outline of your tits squeezed against each other. 

He grabbed a beer and opened it with his back tooth, spitting the cap out on the counter next to Wheezie’s book.

“Ew, Rafe, get your spit molecules away from my book.”

“Who reads in the summer anyways? You should be glad for my spit if it makes you stop.”

“It’s my summer reading, Rafe, not everyone can just skip their assignments and get away with it.”

“Please, what have I skipped?”

You and Wheezie turn to look at each other and start laughing. He cracks a smile too, unexpectedly.

“Actually, it’s a great book. You’re missing out, Rafe,” you say, with a smile gracing your face, and he realizes he’s never actually heard the sound of your voice. You’ve maybe said hi to him twice, and both times Sarah had dragged you away within seconds. You even sound cute. His name on your tongue sounds even cuter.

“Really? Maybe I need to give it a try.” You laugh again, meeting his eyes this time. 

“You can’t have my copy, I already put my annotations in this one-“

“Stop yapping, Wheeze. I’m not gonna take yours.”

“Actually you have a copy in the library upstairs. I borrowed it last summer.”

“Really, kid? Wanna come find it with me?”

Your face heats up so much you turn away. He smiles then, and he smiles again when you follow him up to the library.

“This one is fantastic too, it’s about this young girl in England-” your voice continues to describe the plot of the book in your hand. You shelve it and then your eyes immediately land on another, another classic, another favorite. You ramble off the description but Rafe’s hardly paying attention.

He’s trying to recall when you had become so cute, so pretty. He thinks he’s never noticed you after you walk away with Sarah, or when he walks away from you two lounging on pool chairs, your nose in a book like always.

This is different. When had you become so irresistible?

Your pretty hair falls down your back. It sticks to your neck when the two of you are outside in the sun, in the heat. He has an urge to lick the sweat off just to see how you’d blush and feel how you’d squirm. Your eyes are warm and bright, but you’re still too shy to meet his blue ones, even when it’s just the two of you.

And it has been. Just the two of you, recently, almost all of the time. Sarah’s always off with her stupid friends and Wheeze is at home doing her summer work. 

The two of you travel to every ice cream parlor in the eight in the next few weeks. Conversation comes easily, even though you have nothing in common. He hasn’t picked up a bag from his dealer since he started talking to you, he realizes. Hasn’t felt the need to get high.

You’ve never even smoked weed, much less snorted coke. You’ll drink at a party with Sarah, but not too much, and you always end up being the sober friend holding back the vomiting girl’s hair. At the bonfire that he invites you to, your eyes keep darting around, seeing if anyone needs your help. 

Rafe moves so he’s standing right in front of you, blocking your view.

“Hey, kid,” he says quietly, leaning in. You’re boxed in, with Rafe and only Rafe on your mind. The clean, attractive scent of his cologne. The way it lingers on his clothes, like the button up you’re wearing over your pink dress.

He picks up the red cup in your hand and places it on the log beside you, balancing his beer next to it. His hands are cold from the bottle but you don’t mind much. He takes your wrists first, holding them in place, and then slides down so your hands are touching. 

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” You were looking down at the hands, where the two of you were connected, but his voice makes you look up. He’s looking at you, and you want to hide your face. Your fingers twitch beneath Rafe’s grip. He holds on even tighter. “Don’t look away, princess. We gotta work on that, huh?”

You feel your face heating up at the nickname. You wish you were home so you could scream into your pillow.

“Sorry, sorry,” you scramble, trying to look up but you can’t find the strength or the will.

You’re embarrassed. Of course you are—this is Rafe, and you’re just you. Rafe is the one you’ve had a crush on since you knew what crushes were, and you are still the awkward little thing you were the first time you met him. 

His gaze burning holes through you makes you want to run and hide. Because this is Rafe, and right now you’re one of his girls. The ones Sarah’s complained about the whole time she’s known you—they get too attached, act all clingy, and then are replaced before long. 

You hear Rafe’s quiet laughter. You’re still boxed in, feeling hot and clammy even though he’d given you his button up not thirty minutes ago because you felt cold. 

“What’re you saying sorry for?” You look up quickly, and then look back down. Then Rafe’s hands leave yours, and he holds up your chin until you’re looking right into his eyes. “Hmm?”

You feel like puking. 

“I-I just, well I just-”

“You just what?”

“I don’t think I can be, um, be one of your flingy, uh fling-type girls. So, you know, maybe all of this isn’t a good idea.”

“Fling-type girls?” he questions. He’s holding back a laugh, which makes you irrationally upset. You shove hard against his chest to free yourself from the cage of his arms. 

“Yes, your fling-type girls. You have a new girl on your arm every week, and everyone knows it, and I refuse to be one of them, because it’s just embarrassing and dehumanizing,” he watches you ramble on. He smiles, but you don’t notice. “And frankly, I deserve better than that.”

“Are you done?” You glare back at him.

“Yes, and not because you said that. I was done anyway.”

“Good.” Your face drops for a second, thinking you overstepped and totally overreached regarding his intentions, but then Rafe surprises you—he leans in and kisses you. 

You weren’t expecting a playground peck, but the way he’s kissing you completely surpasses any and all expectations (and fantasies) you’d dreamt up. His grip on your hips is hard, and his tongue is almost down your throat. It’s messy, and wet, and when he pulls away, there’s strings of spit connecting you to each other. 

You should wipe your mouth before anyone sees, but you don’t. Your heart is racing, and you can barely speak, much less move. 

“If I wanted you to be one of my girls, I wouldn’t have spent the last three weeks listening to you blab about books and buying you ice cream. You’re gonna be my only girl, and that’s that, okay?”

You nod dumbly—words and motions still not quite back yet. You feel flushed. People’s eyes are on you both.

“Now, do you wanna head out and go get a cone?” You nod again. “Good girl. And watch your mouth.”