#i just played on the fact he’d no name at the time. though in this case he simply refuses to say for the sake of both himself and dedede

[imelht]

Metadede Week. Day Two. First Meeting.

——————————————————————————

“… … …”

Silence. Save for the wind which blew. Save for the king’s thoughts, which weighed heavy on his mind.

“… … …”

It was an abnormally cloudy day in Dreamland. Shadows fell over and about buildings in unconventional fashions. No one seemed to be outside at the moment, despite it still being early in the day… no one at all, but one.

The penguin king stepped outside, on a rather generously sized balcony which stemmed from the side of his castle. He peered over the mountains which so surrounded the mighty establishment, alone with only his thoughts to nag him. The golden circlet which held his crown together lacked its usual shine, much to the doings of the thick, dark-colored clouds above.

He stood silently. Not a word to himself, not an utterance to the scene about him.

Nothing.

This was King Dedede, the courageous, the fierce-some. The mighty penguin king of Dreamland.

He stood tall, tugging at the band that bound his stomach lightly. Feathers a rich azure blue in hue, his eyes were of a corresponding color, while his feet and beak a dandelion yellow in contrast. By looks alone the man was of a royal caliber. (Or perhaps that was only due to his routine.) Though, in contrast to his royal, tip-top nature, one might come to recognize the undeniably prominent southern tint to his voice, and his rather… gluttonous and boisterous aptitude, though, despite this, he was still very much a king at heart. Coincidentally, the king came to be dressed in a sumptuous red robe with a lofty, cloud-like accentry, his very insignia he sported on both the back of his robe, and on his mallet, which he’d always on hand.

Over the years, he would come to be a kind, and empathetic king, and he would grow to love each and every single one of his loyal subjects, those being the Waddle Dees. He’d countless of the orange, horizontally asymmetrical, mouth-less creatures. Each one he’d grown to love, and for any one of them, he’d sacrifice his very well being…

Though at this moment, that was not of principle concern. The clouds were dull in color, sharply contradicting the multitudinous, and spirited colors of Dreamland. The King knew something was up, and it was not just those clouds in the sky…

He knew what he had to do, and he had to do it now, or never.

… … …

Late into the night, the King had snuck out with deft footsteps, and managed out of the grandiose castle. The city of Dreamland was now at utter rest, the lights of homes put out, not a soul in sight. All were asleep, all but one… that one being King Dedede, and he’d taken a visit to the legendary Fountain of Dreams.

The fountain ran with its usual waters, however, the fountain’s activity seemed off to the King. King Dedede had taken many a trip to the fountain, especially when his mind plagued him. He was no new face to possession, namely by the forces of Dark Matter. The King sat on the lip of the fountain, his sights on the Star Rod as it sat upright in the center of the monument.

He averted his sights and peered into the waters as he normally did, allowing his thoughts to rush his mind like a flood, though this time the waters, opposite of stagnant, rippled. They betrayed a scary sight, a wizard with sharp spectacles and a whirling body. He’d sharp fingers, and a sinister demeanor. The wizard smiled with his teeth, each sharp but perfectly locked together, and he pulled his cape about his body to conceal it. Dedede, who would rather have not set his sights on the wizard, attempted to pull away, but instead, was seized in the wizard’s powerful mental hold, and physically brought forcibly to the water’s surface.

When his hands did not feel the usually shallow bottom of the fountain… he freaked out.

He felt his heart as if a lump in his throat, and in his stunned state he couldn’t bring himself to speak. He flailed his arms, seeking out of the water as he was near pulled in entirely. The wizard himself did not verbalize anything, rather, he stared… he stared deep into what was the King’s soul, and the King could almost feel himself again being pulled into the rippling waters of the now dark fountain.

He shouted, or… he thought he did. He felt himself begin to sweat, or was that just the water that had splashed into his face during the ordeal…? His breathing hastened as he corrected his pose, managing his arms out of the water after he’d been pulled physically towards it. He struggled against the mental snare of the Wizard with shallow breaths, as the taunting grin of the wizard seemed to remind him of how weak he was... The wizard beckoned Dedede to him, and the King could feel himself losing again what control he’d over himself.

He loathed losing his mind to some outside entity… to Dark Matter. He hated the torment it brought. To lose the will but not the conscious… it was utterly petrifying for the King. He strived to fight against it, but the external forces always managed to trump his will…

He wanted to cry out again in the midst of it all, but he remained determined. He grit his teeth, though he felt his mind once again facing a slip. He tensed up with the rest of his remaining strength, until he was pulled away from the fountain by a pair of hands at his sides, his pupils were wild, his feathers, bristled, his crown lopsided from his earlier tumble. He turned promptly, wide-eyed to the one who’d managed him away from the wizard’s unrelenting hold on him…

His eyes widened a tad further when he laid his sights on the one who had practically saved him. He was met with a short, masked, orb-shaped puffball. His skin was dark in coloration. He’d amber eyes and a steel mask, which covered the entirety of his face, save for a visor which permitted his eyes to see through it. He had pauldrons and sported a flowing red cape which he held across his body in one hand.

He looked like a little knight. The King tilted his head, now calming down from the previous events that had transpired.

“W-Who… are you?” The King stammered, his voice shaking a slight bit, but his nerves soon faded.

The mysterious man spoke up, in a much deeper tone Dedede would’ve thought.

“My name…? Well, if I may, I insist on keeping it in the down low.“ He responded, hesitantly.

“Do you… have a name?”

The swordsman was silent.

“I’ll take that as a no, for now.” *He paused, eyeing the swordsman before him. “It’s no matter. I’m sure ya know who I am at least.” He assumed, the arrogance laced in his tone and radiating from his newly stricken pose.

After a moment of silence he was met with a quiet, “I am unaware…” from the bystander.

The King’s jaw nearly dropped at this. He turned back to him, a more honest face, this time.

“You seriously don’t know…?”

“Why would I?” The swordsman replied, not without a genuine lack of knowledge.

“Well… I jus’ assumed you would… is all…” The King mumbled, though he perked himself back up. “I’m the King of these lands, Dedede is my name.”

“A pleasure to meet you… King Dedede.” The swordsman accompanied this acknowledgment with a bow, his red cape catching in the breeze.

“It’s nice tah meet you as well, mister swordsman.”

“You may just refer to me as sir, for now.”

The King laughed lightly. “Right right.” Then he’d a thought. “Ah! You uh… you saved me back there…”

“I did, in fact.” The swordsman affirmed.

“Well… what brought you ‘ere?” Dedede questioned, tilting his head.

“I heard your scream.” The swordsman stated, as a matter-of-factly.

“Well, yeah… but…” He tried to think of something else to ask the mysterious swordsman for the sake of learning more about him, even if it wasn’t much, but found nothing, so he offered his thanks instead.

“Well, I thank ya… truly…” He replied, cutting of his prior train of thought.

“Don’t mention it.” Was all the small swordsman said in reply before simply walking away.

That was, until Dedede called him, with a slightly begging tone.

“Wait!” Dedede implored, as he honestly didn’t want to see the mysterious man go. He’d found himself oddly captivated by him. He was much different from the rest of Dreamland’s usually bubbly citizens. Something struck him as… different. Many a thing, actually.

The pleading tone of Dedede’s voice struck something within the swordsman. He halted, turning around to face Dedede.

“What is it?” He replied, his deep vocals monotonous.

“Maybe we could… talk some more?” Dedede took a slightly shaky breath. “Ya know… it wouldn’t hurt to have someone to speak with.” He pointed out, feeling a bit of his honor nag him at the admission, though he saw no harm in the idea. After all, he’d just been shaken by what he’d seen in the fountain, and… this man before him struck him as a rather serious fellow, so he’d wager his chances with him.

A moment of silence passed before the man replied, only saying one word.

“Sure.”

“Great!” Dedede’s face lit up a bit with the affirmative answer. He scooted over on the lip of the fountain (as if by habit) and offered the man to sit down with him.

The swordsman clutched his red cape after only a moment of hesitation, and approached the lip of the fountain. Climbing (not without very slight struggle) to sit on it, he sat a fair distance away, but still in reasonable speaking distance. He folded the cape neatly in his lap, and turned towards the much larger man.

“Ready.” He announced. Though Dedede thought there was no need. The man had intriguing habits, but he didn’t implore further regarding them.

“Well…” Dedede started, “Are ya new here, by chance? To Dreamland?”

“No. I have been living around here for a bit of time already. We just have not happened to meet, until now.”

“Oh? So… you just so happened to decide to come here? To the Fountain of Dreams?”

“Well, yes…” The swordsman admitted.

“So… you came ‘ere, not because of me, I know that… so… that means it musta’ been by your own whim, huh?” Dedede rose a brow, though this gesture was not in accusation.

“Well, yes… I actually visit this Fountain on a reoccurring basis.”

“Then… why ‘aven’t I seen ya?”

“It must have simply been chance.” The swordsman stated, his tone still bland of any change whatsoever.

“Hm… I guess so.” Dedede conceded, agreeing with the very slight chance that which the swordsman said was right. It seemed most probable.

“…and you? Why are you here?” The swordsman questioned, his tone alone did not betray his curiosity, rather… the slight tilt of his head did.

Dedede sat back a bit, hands still holding tightly the rim of the fountain.

“I… I came here to act somethin’ out. A plan.”

“Hm?” The swordsman hummed in slight confusion, clearly not getting what very vague “plan” Dedede could have possibly been alluding to.

“Well… you see…” Dedede hesitated.

“I was going to take the Star Rod, and break it.”

“And… why would you do that?” The deep voice rang out again, monotone, yet… subtly questioning.

“Ya see… earlier I noticed somethin’ was up with the clouds in the sky. They were awfully dark. It was highly unconventional of Dreamland’s usual.”

The swordsman stayed quiet, not betraying whether or not he too noticed this phenomenon.

Though in the midst of this silence Dedede pressed on with his plan.

“So I came ‘ere to check up on the Fountain, and… it turns out it’s been corrupted.”

“Corrupted, you say?” This captivates the swordsman, despite his utterly dead tone.

“Yes. Or so I believe… I did see an entity I don’t usually lurkin’ in the waters…” The King drew a deep breath, recalling the figure.

“That was before you saved me.” He added, looking at the swordsman, who was clutching his cape, staring right back at him with his dull yellow eyes from beneath the mask. Dedede could almost… feel his interest in the whole thing. This prompted him to ask what was on his mind.

“So… have ya any sort of knowledge on what’s goin’ on?”

“Maybe I do.” The swordsman paused, before speaking again.

“Tell me about the “figure” you saw in the waters tonight. It seemed to have quite the effect on you, King Dedede.” He spoke as if he was speculating something.

“Well, it was some wizard with… sharp glasses and a starry cloak. He’d a taunting smile and wicked fingers…” He answered, turning to the swordsman.

“Have any idea?”

The swordsman was silent, before speaking.

“That which you saw in the fountain… it was undeniably Nightmare. He is a powerful wizard with dark magic at his disposal, not to mention mind manipulation and corruptive tendencies.”

This was what Dedede was looking for.

“Oh really? So ya know about that guy?”

“Well… yes…” The swordsman fessed, fidgeting with his cape a bit.

Dedede, utterly oblivious to the swordsman’s slight restlessness regarding the topic, dwelt on the matter at hand. “Hm… that’s better than nothin’ I guess! I appreciate the information.” Dedede replied, jumping up slightly, pressing on with his idea.

“So, as I was sayin’, I was going to take the Star Rod and divide it amongst some trusted members so that we might be granted a chance against this… “Nightmare” guy.” He continued, looking back at the swordsman every so often, to keep his interest.

“Mhm.” The swordsman nodded, humming in acknowledgement of his plan.

In analytic thought, he nodded, seeming content with the King’s plan.

“What you have devised proves not unsound.” The swordsman admitted, a hint of respect in the way he worded his admission.

“Why, thank you.” Dedede seemed proud himself, and he stood up, hand on hip, his robe trailing gently behind his massive frame.

“Now… just to getting to the Star Rod…” He took a pensive look at the clouded waters, and bit his beak a bit in slight nervousness.

“Is everything… alright?” The deep voice inquired suddenly. It caught Dedede off guard.

“Oh! Uhm… yes… sorry…”

“No need to apologize.”

“Ah! Right…” Dedede chuckled nervously.

The swordsman watched as Dedede turned to step through the waters, his foot managed to touch the shallow flooring of the fountain… and he found it odd how his hands couldn’t locate it earlier during his struggle. Nonetheless, he managed to the Star Rod, and claimed it off the center of the Fountain, though, as soon as he did the waters gained a more violent tendency, and they rippled, crashing about him, drenching his torso’s feathers and his robe. He yelped at the feeling of his movements increasing in difficultly as the waters tried to keep him, and he trudged through with strain. The King felt as if the water was gripping at his feet, attempting to pull him into the dark abyss that seemed to overtake the fountain. Slipping, his nerves overtook him, but a gloved hand caught his, and yanked him from the waters.

Again, Dedede gathered his nerves on hands and knees, turning his head to see that the swordsman had saved him once again.

“Thanks…”

“No need to mention it.” The swordsman dismissed. “I am simply doing what is fitting of a knight.”

Dedede’s eyes seemed to betray his loss of concentration on outwardly matters… he entered a bout of thought, pondering the knight before him…

“Knight”. He’d not any of those yet… he wondered what it would be like to have a knight in his kingdom. He’d loyal subjects and soldiers sure, but a knight? A real knight? No… not yet, at least… not yet…

“Hello?” The deep voice yet again caught the King off guard, causing him to snap out of his bout of thought.

“Ah. Er… sorry again.”

“No need.” The swordsman dismissed the apology again, with a light tone.

“You are alright though, yes?” He wanted to make sure.

“Yes.” Dedede confirmed. “…Thanks to you.” He added.

The swordsman’s cape caught the wind slightly, and danced in it.

“No need to mention it.” He replied, again, not letting emotion seep into his vocals.

“Yeah yeah…” Dedede droned lightly, smiling. Then he had an idea.

“Hey… uh… you know what…? Maybe…” Dedede paused, holding the now fragmented Star Rod in one hand, then looking up at the swordsman.

“Do you want to be a keeper of a piece?”

“Me?” The swordsman’s tone betrayed very slight… surprise.

“Yes you. Do you want to hold one of the pieces for me?”

The swordsman dwelt on his decision for a second. Instead of further questioning him, he took up the role.

“It would be an honor.” The swordsman clearly meant every word, this task, to him, was now regarded with utmost seriousness.

“Then the piece is yours, swordsman. Keep it safe from Nightmare, and let it never be reconnected with the shards of its kin.”

Dedede paused, ensuring the weight of the moment.

“Do you promise to keep it safe for me?” Dedede asked, his eyes a bit wide with seriousness.

“I promise.” The swordsman said in reply, clutching the glowing shard in his hand.

“Good. Then… farewell to you, swordsman.”

“… … …”

“May we meet again.” King Dedede dismissed, and the two went their separate ways.

END.

[readwritealldayallnight]

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who from the moment he laid eyes on you, has only ever referred to you as his wife

You, this sweet little thing, running through the halls on base one day when you turn a corner and nearly run headfirst into the Lieutenant, who’s walking alongside Soap

“Oh! Sorry about that, sir.” You told him, never slowing down in your hurried pace as you snuck around his large frame and continued down towards whatever you were evidently late for

The only reason his gaze had followed your retreating form, was that unlike everyone else, you had met in his eyes when you spoke, even smiled warmly up at him

That one smile and he was done for

“Who was tha’?” The sergeant had questioned, seeing Ghost’s attention still fixated on you.

“Think that was my wife.”

“Yer what?!”

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who makes it a point to let everyone know that you are in fact his wife

Well, everyone apart from you apparently

He would certainly never abuse his position as a Lieutenant, but some new recruit had the audacity to whistle at you as you walked by? Well 100 laps around the base don’t exactly run themselves

Another soldier saved you a seat next to him in a briefing? He can enjoy scrubbing toilet seats for the next week in that case

Someone actually had the bollocks to ask you for your phone number? Perfect, he needed a volunteer for demonstrating hand to hand combat to the recruits, medics on standby of course

By the time he properly introduces himself to you for the first time, it’s understood by everyone else around that you are, for all intents and purposes, Mrs Riley

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who listens to you tell him your name in a voice that resembles music to his ears, hardly bothering to remember your last name, seeing as it’ll be changing soon enough anyway

“You can call me anythin’ you want, love.” His deep, gravelly voice had sent shivers down your spine, cheeky smirk widening beneath his mask. “So long as you call me, that is.”

By the end of your first date, (you were sitting alone in the dining hall and he wordlessly joined you what do you mean this isn’t a date) he’s wondering if you’ll insist on a ceremony or if he can sweep you away to the nearest courthouse and make this official, slipping a ring onto you finger and his cock into you

You had laughed when he put his number into your phone and named himself ‘Husband’, certain that the man was only messing with you, some kind of hazing that you apparently weren’t aware Lieutenants played on the new communications hire, but it was only fair seeing as he’d saved your contact under ‘Wife’

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who is over the moon every time you play along, even if he knows you believe you’re only playing

“Ach, thanks Lt. Just what I needed.” Soap said, seeing Ghost’s approaching form enter the common room, holding a steaming cup of tea in each hand

“S’for my wife. Get your own.” The older man gruffly replied, sliding the mug onto the side table next to where you’re curled up on the couch, reading a book

“Aw, thank you honey.” You giggled, smiling up as him with an expression he thinks would taste even sweeter than honey if he were to run his tongue across your upturned lips

“Happy wife, happy life, sergeant.” Ghost shrugged, ignoring the other man’s pout, landing next to you and reaching an arm behind you across the back of the couch

“God, maybe I really should keep you.” You’d laughed, reaching a leg out to dig your socked toes into his muscled thigh, teasing him

Grasping your foot into his large, strong hands, he began massaging it, uncaring that you were only two of the many people in the common room, not when you looked at him like that, smiling together as though you truly were nothing more than a married couple

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who surprised you one day, insisting he needed your help with something crucial off base, and drove you to a local shopping outlet to look at none other than dresses

“Is there some sort of party happening?” You’d questioned, confused out of your mind

“Suppose you could consider it a party.” He’d answered, leading you through the many racks of dresses, you noticed were all, very conveniently, white

“Now while you’re lookin’ through dress sizes,” he’d added, taking your left hand in both of his. “You know your ring size? Got my own shoppin’ to do ‘round here.”

Series masterlist

[saetoru]

AGE IS NOTHING BUT A NUMBER — GETO SUGURU.

kinktober day two — overstimulation ; find masterlist here

synopsis. befriending nanako and mimiko has its perks—like fucking their father, for example. suguru might have aged over the years, but that doesn't mean he's lost his touch. don't believe him? that's okay—he can always just show you instead

length. 5.3k words (bro this fic was agonizing)

contents. minors do not interact, fem! reader, dilf! suguru, college au (reader is a student), age gaps (20+ difference), jealous suguru, teasing, cunnilingus, fingering, edging, nipple play, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, angel)

notes. this took me so long bc i hate it so im posting it and running away to play genshin to slave away for primos

most people can tell their best friends everything. not you, though—you have a secret. a dirty, shameful, horrible little secret, in fact.

no one knows that every chance you get, every small little moment you can possibly squeeze in, you fuck your two best friends’ father—and it’s going to stay that way, unknown and forever hidden. suguru is young as far as parents go, just barely in his twenties when he’s found himself a single father of two, but that doesn’t mean he’s not too old for you. and it especially doesn’t mean that it’s not inappropriate to fuck the man that raised your two closest friends.

you meet nanako and mimiko during your freshman year of college—the rest is history. the first time you spend the night at their place, suguru (he insists you call him that on your first meeting) is overjoyed that his girls have someone as lovely as you.

who wouldn’t be? you’re smart, well-mannered, respectable, and incredibly studious. what a perfect role model for his girls—after all, every father’s worst nightmare is his sweet, precious daughters venturing off to the real world. men are dogs—suguru should know. they’re sleazy and prey on young women who are naive and unsuspecting, taking advantage of their hopefulness before completely destroying their innocence. suguru can’t bear the idea of his perfect little girls becoming victims of such sinister behavior—but that’s all quelled when he meets you.

but he never thought, not even for one second, that he’d become one of those men.

those older men who fuck girls half their age—the girls that are barely in their twenties and still don’t even really understand how taxes work. the girls that have just started to learn how to hold their alcohol and can only recently buy it legally. the girls who don’t realize how complicated adulthood can be, just barely spreading their wings and learning what it’s like to be free.

suguru has always found those men deplorable. they’re the awful, disgusting, untamed vermin of society—women must be protected from them at all costs.

but now? well….now he’s one of them—and he finds, even as disgusted with himself as he is from time to time, he has little regrets.

not when you’re sprawled under him, hands tracing over his bare chest, feeling the soft skin under your palms in wonder. suguru, though he’s not let himself go by any means, is past his prime—he still frequents the gym, and he has more time to go now that the girls are gone most of the day, but he’s not immune to the effects of aging.

his hair has more than a few strands of white sprinkled in now; nanako makes sure to remind him not to pull them out unless he wants more. he’s still managed to keep the abs he was once so proud of in his youth, but they’re still not as hard—layered over a slight belly that he can’t seem to get rid of no matter what he tries. his skin is a bit looser, and his eyes have slight wrinkles in the corners of them, but despite it all, suguru still looks as handsome as ever.

he’s aged well, still looks remarkably young for men his age, and still looks like that dashing young man he once was who stole hearts. in fact, he still hears about his looks, especially from nanako and mimiko’s friends—he’s always chuckled to himself and shook his head in amusement.

that’s your dad? god, he’s so hot.

what? he’s single? oh my gosh, do you need a mom?

i can’t believe he’s never been married—women in his generation don’t deserve him. i’ll take him off their hands.

wait, do you have pictures of him when he was younger?

oh my god, he’s so fine. are you sure he’s in his forties?

nanako and mimiko, bless their hearts, have always crinkled their noses at the…less than proper comments they’ve had to witness about their father. in fact, they’ve watched teachers practically throw themselves onto suguru at parent-teacher conferences. it’s bothersome—a little disturbing to hear their friends talk about all the things they’d let their dad, of all people, do to them.

but you? you don’t make unhinged comments. they appreciate that.

but if only they knew…

if only they knew that sometimes, like right now, when you’re spending the night, you don’t actually sleep—instead, you sneak off to their father’s room, lay on his mattress under his body, and feel his touch. you can feel him, hard and throbbing in his sweats as his clothed cock presses against your thigh—but he takes his time with you, and doesn’t do anything about the clear arousal pooling between your legs just yet. 

instead, he focuses on remembering your body—it’s been a while, after all. he hasn’t felt your hips, hasn’t tasted your skin, hasn’t heard your voice. 

“missed you,” suguru breathes, hovering over you as you hum, nipping at your skin as his nose brushes along your neck. your hand is playing with his hair, twisting long, black and white strands along your fingers. “haven’t seen you in a bit, angel.”

“i’ve had midterms,” you murmur.

suguru knows—nanako and mimiko have been studying for them themselves. he’s more than a little disappointed that you haven’t come over to study with them yet. but then, just the other night, mimiko mentions you’ve been spending your time with a boy at the library, sharing a table as you lean over his shoulder to look at his laptop. nanako giggles that you might have finally gotten yourself a boyfriend. mimiko hums and nods as she murmurs it’s about time.

suguru swallows down every bite of dinner with an aftertaste of bile that night.

a boy—a boy? you’ve been skipping coming over to study with the girls (and, by default, seeing him) just to study with some boy? what’s got your attention on the guy so badly? why would you break the routine you’ve had for the last few semesters for someone you just recently met? have you finally started to realize that this is a mistake? is suguru a mistake?

he thinks maybe not, now that you’re back in his bed—but he still has too many unanswered questions. 

“so i’ve heard,” he says lowly, “i’ve also heard there’s a certain boy on your radar.” he smiles bitterly, pulling away from your neck to stare at you with those dark, sharp eyes of his. “a much younger, and fitting match for you, i suppose.”

you roll your eyes, snorting.

“is that what nanako and mimiko have told you? honestly, those two,” you huff fondly, “i told them already. he’s just my partner for a presentation. we’re practicing.”

“oh?” suguru raises a brow—and then he shivers lightly when you lean up and kiss his jaw, eyes fluttering shut at your touch.

“yes,” you giggle, “no need to be jealous of someone half your age, you know.”

“that’s exactly why i’m jealous,” he breathes, leaning in to kiss you softly.

your lips taste like honey—probably sweeter, in fact. they drip with that decadent, saccharine taste of youth. he feels twenty again every time he kisses you, feels not a day older than his glory days.

“oh, you poor thing,” you grin, cupping his face as you scatter kisses along his cheeks and nose, thumb tracing the skin. fuck, is this what it feels like to be in love? it makes him feel so young, so free, and hopeful for the future. when was the last time he felt this way? “have you been losing sleep over my nonexistent college boyfriend?”

“well, kids your age fool around quite a bit,” he says in that father tone that he uses on nanako and mimiko, “what was i supposed to think?”

you’ve heard that tone so many times before; the one where he talks like he knows better, like he’s wiser, like he’s aware of something you’re not. 

girls, make sure you share your location with me—i need to find you in case anything happens. it’s for your own safety, end of discussion.

make sure you watch over your drinks, okay? men these days take every chance they get to spike them when you’re not looking. mimiko, i was your age once, too. i’ve seen this happen plenty.

don’t walk alone in the streets at night. call me. i’ll pick you up—no, nanako, it’s not lame. the streets are dangerous at night. there are creeps, you know.

don’t get into any boy’s cars, girls. you never know what’ll happen; one mistake is all it takes to ruin your life—hey, don’t roll your eyes at me. one day, you’ll understand i’m right.

“i’m not a kid,” you pout, and then, smugly this time, you wiggle your brows. “did’ya lose sleep over my imaginary boyfriend? you need plenty of sleep at your age, y’know.”

“no, you’re not a kid,” suguru agrees, “you’re a brat.” and then he’s back to pressing those hot, open-mouthed, hungry kisses along your jaw, humming in delight when you angle your head to give him better access. 

sometimes, it’s fun to get under suguru’s skin—it’s fun to break that carefully built, mature patience of his, pulling a twitch of his eye and a furrow of his brow from him. so, you grin widely as you murmur, “who knows? maybe he’d fuck better—more stamina, y’know?”

it’s supposed to just tease him, to make him glare at you unimpressed so you can giggle and kiss between his brows—but suguru stills at that, painfully stiff for a moment before he bites at your skin. hard. 

“oh yeah?” he hisses, his voice low and dangerous as he pulls away to glare down at you, “you think so? what, you think an old man like me can’t fuck you long enough?”

you don’t get a chance to reply—not before he pulls your pants down your waist to reveal your soaked panties, pulling a hum from him as he grins at the damp patch of fabric. his fingers circle over your clit for a moment, right over the cloth, making your breath hitch as you buck into his touch. 

“suguru—”

“look at that,” he chuckles, “wearing my favorite one, huh? can’t fuck you that bad if you try your best to impress me. isn’t that what you wanted? is that what you were thinking when you put these on before coming over? how precious,” he murmurs—he speaks so condescending, so knowingly, as if he’s read your mind just by looking at the red lace covering your dripping cunt. you cover your face in humiliation, but he grabs your wrists and pins them over your head, clicking his teeth in disapproval. 

part of you knows you should quit while you can—the other part? well…it wants to test the limits a bit longer. suguru has never been so easy to rile up, you want to indulge in it for just a bit longer if you can help it. 

“well,” you huff, “what’re you waiting for, then? don’t tell me the age has slowed you down—”

“you really don’t know when to quit, do you?” he says in a low snarl, “fine, you want me to hurry up? you got it, princess.”

it all happens before you can even register—one moment, you’re grinning at him with mischief in your eyes; the next second, he has you in nothing but your bra, bare in his bed as he pulls your legs apart and leans close to your pussy.

“you know the thing about guys your age,” he hums, toying with your clit lazily as you gasp with a twitch, “is that they really don’t know how to take care of anyone but themselves. guess they just don’t have enough experience to really figure it out.”

his lips latch onto your clit, sucking before he rolls his tongue over the sensitive bud as his fingers sink into your core, pushing past your folds and stretching you open. it’s slow—deliberately so, in fact. it makes your head spin, and your fingers curl into the bed sheets as you pant. 

“suguru, m-more—”

“don’t worry,” he coos, pulling away from you to grin up at your glossy eyes, “you’ll get plenty, baby. we’ll see if you’ve got the stamina. y’know, since you’re so young.”

his lips are back to wrap around your clit, fingers sinking and curling exactly where you’re most sensitive—suguru finds your sweet spots instantly the first time he has you sprawled under him. didn’t even take a moment of trial, just knew where to touch and kiss to have you unravel in his hold. that much still hasn’t changed—his fingertips press against the sensitive spot in the back of your walls, pulling pretty little whines from you as his tongue flicks over your clit. 

it’s always been a blessing that nanako and mimiko’s room is across the house—had they been closer, they might hear the mewl you let out as his fingers bully into you faster, unforgiving as they brush against your walls and build the ache up between your legs until it’s about to burst. 

“s-suguru, ‘m close, so, so close—”

“already?” he gasps, chuckling as he presses a kiss to your clit with a sly grin, “thought you had more in you than that, baby. so youthful—figured you’d last a bit longer.”

he’s mean about it—rubs it in your face some more that you’re so close so fast before he pulls his fingers away and doesn’t even give you the satisfaction of falling apart on his digits. it makes you sob, hips bucking up to chase the friction of his fingers, but he’s already gone, leaving your walls empty and fluttering around nothing.

“no,” your voice breaks, “n-no, so close, please. i want—”

“that’s what he would’ve done,” suguru hums, “pulled out before you even finished. that’s what guys your age always do—they don’t know how to make girls finish. you ever had that problem with me?”

“no,” you say quickly, shaking your head. you’re a pretty little thing, he thinks—pouty, wobbly lips and those glossy eyes as you sniffle. “no, you always make me cum—please, i wanna cum, sugu.”

“yeah?” he pouts with faux sympathy, “didn’t feel good, huh? feels better when i take care of you, doesn’t it?”

“uh huh,” you nod—you’re still panting through the aftershocks of having your orgasm ripped from you, chest rising and falling harsh enough that it fills him with pride he can pull such drastic reactions from you. no one knows your body like suguru—he’s too good at giving it what it wants for anyone else to compare. 

“think that boy—” he spits the last word like it’s poison on his tongue, “—can take care of you?”

“no,” you whimper, “no, he can’t. not like you, never like you.”

“that’s a good girl,” he nods approvingly, rubbing his slick-coated finger over your clit, toying with it teasingly as you writhe, whining for more. “you know something else about men your age? they don’t care to please a woman—don’t bother to appreciate them enough to make them feel good. you think that boy would be here—” he pauses to motion between your legs, where he’s currently situated, “—willingly? taste you willingly? let you cum on his tongue willingly?”

“i-i don’t…i never asked someone to—”

“did you ever ask me?” he interrupts, raising a brow at you, “you ever have to ask me? i just do it. wanna know why? because i know what i’m doing—know how to treat you right, how to give you what you need. isn’t that right?” 

“yes, yes—you always give me what i want—”

“what you need,” he corrects, “and you know what i think you need right now? this.”

his tongue licks a stripe along your entrances before you can say anything else, pulling a gasp out of you as your hands find his hair and tug—suguru groans at that, feels his pants get impossibly tighter as the aching erection he sports throbs between his legs at the way you pull at the strands so desperately, so needy. for him. only ever him. 

his tongue fucks into you, messy with the way he devours you, the slick arousal pooling from your cunt coating his lips, his cheeks, his chin. you moan—and really, it’s almost a squeal—when his fingers are sinking back into you, tongue flicking away at your clit mercilessly as he thrusts his digits in and out of your pussy. you’re close, painfully so, the pressure steadily building and building until you just can’t hold it back anymore. 

“sugu—’m c-cumming. god ‘s so good—feels good,” you babble, thighs closing around his head as his fingers curl into your sweet spot over and over again, not stopping for even a second as he helps you ride out your high. your walls spasm around his fingers, tight as they flutter around him and make him groan at the thought of being inside you. 

he watches, hungry and in awe, as your back arches off the mattress and your mouth parts, broken little wails of his name rolling off your tongue in a sweet melody. 

“i bet he’s never seen someone look like this,” suguru murmurs, watching the way the ecstasy takes over your features as your face falls slack from pleasure, “so pretty when falling apart. bet he’d never even get close to making you look so fucked from just his tongue.”

your orgasm ripples through you—it’s not new, the way he makes you feel so good, but it’s definitely nothing to get used to either. your body slumps back onto the mattress as you finish, panting harshly while he climbs up to hover over you once again. 

“that felt good?” he asks, nosing at your cheek as you nod breathlessly.

“yeah,” you breathe, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“hope you’re not tired out just yet,” he says smugly, eyeing the way sweat clings to your forehead and huffs of air exhale from your lungs with each labored breath, “because we’re nowhere near done, baby. not even close.”

just like that, your bra is unclasped and pulled off, freeing your tits for his mouth to latch onto a nipple, sucking and lightly grazing his teeth along the bud while his fingers tease at the other, pinching and rubbing over it with his thumb. you whine, eyes squeezing shut as your hand cups the back of his head and keeps him in place. 

“bet i could make you cum just from this,” he says with a laugh, “i don’t even need to fuck you.”

“please,” you dig your nails into his shoulder, moaning as he switches to wrap his lips around the other nipple, “please, sugu—n-need more.”

“be more specific,” he says lowly, looking up at you in amusement, “gonna need more than that, princess. you gotta help me out here—i’m afraid i don’t know what i’m doing.”

suguru is doing everything he can to drag this out—if you’d known one small comment would have him riled up like this…well, truthfully, you can’t say you wouldn’t have made it anyway. it’s exciting in its own right when he’s so determined to show you why you need him, why no one else but him is meant to see you like this, make you fall apart like this, have you sprawled under them like this. 

no one can know about you and suguru—not nanako and mimiko, not your other friends, not your family. you know what they’d say, how they’d feel. 

disgust—shame, even. he’s far too old for you, you know they’d say; he’s a red flag for getting with someone so young. no one can know that you come here, dead in the middle of the night when your friends are asleep, and fuck their father. not only that—lay with their father, talk about your hopes and dreams for the future with their father, giggle as you gossip with their father, fall in love with their father. 

something tells you the feeling is not unreciprocated—that suguru feels the same, that he loves holding you in his arms just as much as you love laying in them. maybe it wasn’t a joke, what you’d said. not to him, at least—maybe deep down, it stung; maybe he had something to prove. that boy might be closer to you in age, but he’ll never, ever treat you the way suguru does—no one will, for that matter. perhaps he has to show it so you really know. 

so you look him in the eye, pull him closer until his forehead is pressed against yours and you can press a delicate kiss to his lips before you murmur against them, “fuck me, suguru. please—need you.”

he groans at that, closes his eyes before his hips move to press the thick tip of his cock against your folds, dragging it along your entrance as he coats his head with your slick. it’s flushed a deep pink—it’s been neglected for so long that he shudders at the way it aches, at the way even the slightest friction along the sensitive tip pulls a soft gasp from him. 

for a moment, he wonders if he really will last long enough to fuck you properly—he might not, with the way your walls always squeeze around him, always have him ready to fuck his load into you just as soon as he’s inside you. the thought alone almost makes his cock twitch—but suguru is a man of patience, so he slowly pushes into you, inch by inch, looking down and watching as his girth disappears inside you. 

“look at that,” he coos, grinning wide as he looks back up at you, “took me so easily. ‘s cause when you do it right, it doesn’t take much, does it?”

“f-fuck—” your head presses back against the pillow, mouth hung open as you breathe heavily, trying to squirm and get even the slightest bit of friction from him as he stays painfully still. “move, suguru—please, c-can’t wait anymore. jus’ wanna feel you.”

“i know,” he chuckles, “patience is a virtue, sweetheart.”

despite it all, suguru is not feeling very patient anymore—it’s been long enough. his hips roll slowly at first, a shallow thrust of his hips that makes you both moan lowly before he all but pulls out and slams back in, hard. you can feel the burning stretch of his girth practically splitting you open, every thick vein dragging along your cunt and every brush of his tip against the back of your walls. it’s loud—the sound of skin slapping against skin, the sound of his deep groans and your breathless whines, the sound of the headboard hitting the wall as he fucks you into his mattress. 

“god—fuck, suguru—th-there,” you mewl as he slams into you right where you need him. 

you’ve lost count of how many times suguru has fucked you like you’re his. in his bed at night, in his shower in the mornings, on the couch when you drop by when the girls aren’t home, in his car that one time he drove you home when it rained, in your apartment that one time he dropped off your laptop because you forgot it. there’s one common denominator—the way he makes you feel, not just from the way his cock ruts into you, but from the way his fingers tangle with yours, from the way his mouth finds your jaw to kiss, from the way his forehead presses into your shoulder with warmth. 

it’s exciting, maybe. at first, it’s scandalous and a little thrilling in its own right. by now, it’s something much more than that—you don’t think anyone could make you feel the way he does, fuck you like he does, even if they tried. even if they knew where to touch and where to kiss. even if they knew what you liked and what you didn’t. 

they couldn’t be suguru—would never be suguru. 

“there, huh?” he pants, moaning softly as he feels your walls flutter around him tightly, “i know. i know how to fuck this pussy—my pussy. you think some boy you hardly know would know? think he’d care to learn? think he’d even try?”

“no,” you gasp, shaking your head as your hips buck up to meet his sharp thrusts, “no. no one would make me feel this good. make me feel so good, sugu.”

“ngh—sh-shit,” he hisses at your words, cock almost swelling harder at the way you praise him, at the way your words are almost slurred with no real thought behind him. it’s a little pride-inducing, the way you’re still able to sing his praises without having to really think about it first. he can hear it, the way you’re lost in the drag of his cock, drunk in the haze of pleasure, unfocused on everything else besides the way he bullies his thick girth into your abused cunt.

it’s a mess, it’s filthy the way there’s a mix of pre cum and your slick at the base of his cock, along your inner thighs, coating your skin as the squelching sound of him nudging past your folds fills the room.

it’s good, the way he makes you feel—he can hear it in your voice as you wail his name.

“s-suguru—oh.”

“what, you gettin’ all fucked out on me? ‘m not even close yet, princess,” he hums, leaning down to kiss your neck as he sucks softly into your sweet spot. you throw your head back, rasping out a cry of his name again as his balls slap against your ass with a harsh roll of his hips. 

and then his hand makes its way between your bodies, thumb attaching itself to your clit before rubbing punishing circles into the bundle of nerves—you sob at that, back arching up as your chest presses against his, nipples hard as they brush along his skin.

“s-sugu—close, ‘m gonna cum a-again—so close,” you pant brokenly, every sentence cut off with a sharp gasp as he thrusts into you. 

you’re close—you can’t fight back the way the coil in your belly snaps as he teases your clit. it’s still sensitive from the last orgasm, every nerve still burning up from before as he gives you more, gives you too much, almost. you cum harder this time—your second high creeping up on you when you least expect it. 

it makes your eyes roll back, makes your thighs quiver, and tears stream down your cheeks as you chant his name over and over. suguru, ‘s so good. suguru, ‘m cumming. suguru, ‘s all for you.

every sentence makes his cock drill into you faster, sloppier in rhythm, maybe, but faster. needier. bordering on desperate. 

“f-fuck, baby,” he grunts, “squeezin’ me so tight—such a tight fuckin’ cunt. you think just anyone deserves this? think you can just walk around and let anyone fuck this? ‘s bullshit—ngh.”

you don’t answer—can’t answer, in fact. it’s all teary eyes and soft sniffles as you mewl with every thrust, voice breaking between every pretty little sound you make. he’s still fucking into you, still dragging his cock against those sensitive walls, still bumping against your clit with his navel, still nudging against your sweet spot with his thick, swollen tip. it’s almost too much—it is too much, making you writhe under his body as you try to form the words. 

“‘s t-too much, sugu—c-can’t anymore,” you try, “can’t.”

“what?” he gasps, furrowing his brows in mock confusion, “you’re tappin’ out on me already? but ‘m not even done yet, sweetheart. haven’t even finished yet—don’t tell me you’re already spent. how will you keep up with your little boyfriend’s stamina if you can’t even take an old man like me?”

“c-can’t take anyone but you,” you sob, “jus’ you—only you. promise.”

“yeah? you swear?”

“uh huh. jus’ you, sugu—don’ want anyone else. won’t fuck me the same.”

“atta girl,” he coos, chuckling as he leans down to kiss your jaw, trailing soft pecks until he meets your lips, “that’s what i thought. make sure you don’t forget, okay?”

“fuck, suguru—’m…g-gonna…”

“gonna what? cum? you’re cumming again?” you nod at that—he grins wide, pride settling into the crinkles of his eyes before his thumb rubs harsh circles into your swollen clit once more. he looks pretty like that—hair framing his face, the mix of black and white strands sticking to the damp skin of his forehead. his skin is flushed, abs flexing as he pants over you. sometimes you feel guilty that half of why you come over to visit nanako and mimiko is to fuck suguru—the guilt is quickly extinguished when you see him like this, bottom lip caught between his teeth as his arms barely hold him over you, eyes shut tight as he groans. 

“i-i’m—fuck, fuck, fuck,” you can’t form sentences anymore as you cum—again. not that you really could before that, but now all you can offer is croaked half-syllables and shaky sobs. your walls squeeze around him, tight as they hug around his throbbing cock. 

it takes one, two, three more sloppy rolls of his hips before he lets out at a low, “baby, fuck—’m gonna fill you up. want that? want me to cum in you? make you mine? always been mine, haven’t you?”

“yes, yes—yours, sugu. yours, yours, yours,” you babble, words slurred between breathy moans and broken sobs. “wanna be yours.”

you can feel him—feel the way his cock twitches in you, the way he grinds into you to ride out his high, the way sticky, hot ropes of cum fill your walls, the way he fucks his load deeper into you with every sloppy thrust of his hips. his arms quiver as he holds himself over you—just barely, though. you can hear the way his voice cracks as he gasps your name over and over, as he mutters lowly about how you’re his, how you’ll always only be his. 

“mine,” he grits, “you’re fuckin’ mine—see how you’re suckin’ me in? see how i fit in this pussy like it was made for me? ‘s cause you’re mine.”

his body slumps onto yours as he finishes, head pressed into the crook of your neck as he kisses the skin while you both catch your breaths. you whimper, still sensitive, as he pulls out of you, a soft chuckle falling past his lips as he pulls his head up to look at you and press a kiss to your cheek. 

“so,” he starts, eyes laced with amusement as he takes in the fucked out look on your face, the tears still drying your cheeks, the swollen flush of your bottom lip, “still think you need someone with more stamina? someone who’ll fuck you better—”

“god,” you groan, slapping his shoulder, “will you drop it already? you got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

“no,” he murmurs, pecking your lips, “still wanna hear it some more.”

“your ego needs a reality check,” you huff as you brush a strand of hair from his forehead, “think i’ve fed it plenty all night.”

“actually, i think you crushed it,” he pouts theatrically, “talking about some asshole who doesn’t care about you right in front of me. after i take such good care of you, too. the girls already think you should date him,” he adds the last part with a slightly bitter roll of his eyes, pulling a giggle out of you.

“they think i don’t know how to talk to men,” you snort, “imagine they knew i was talking to men old enough to be my father.”

“hey,” he clicks his teeth, falling onto the mattress beside you—he pulls you into his chest, letting your cheek rest on his bare skin. it’s so wrong—lying in bed with the father of your best friends. but somehow, suguru feels like the only thing you’ve ever done right. “age is nothing but a number, sweetheart.”

if i have to see the word cock one more time im going to eradicate all humans that have them

do not comment about a part 2 !!!!!!!!!!

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru

TW: implied noncon, yandere

fem reader

The way Gojo Senpai is so obnoxious, he doesn’t understand his flirting is making you uncomfortable…

He seriously thinks he’s making you fall head over heels in love with him even when you give him nothing in return to make him think that. He just thinks you’re embarrassed and nervous, flustered by his attention, and that’s the reason you divert your gaze and bite your lip when he has you against the lockers, leaning on his hand with his shades gliding low on his nose—telling you that you have no shot becoming a sorcerer, but that you look too cute in the uniform not to give it your best try. 

“Don’t worry, just say my name, and I’ll come save you,” he’ll say. “You can be my personal assistant supervisor instead.” 

His game isn’t anything to brag about. It's more in line with bullying than flirting, but you pick up on the suggestiveness. That heated saccharine look within his blue eyes can only mean one thing if the way he plays with your hair isn’t enough of a hint already.

But his words are nothing short of derogatory, and all in all, he simply makes you feel gross—a sentiment you thought you put across, but it seems that having six eyes only makes you blind.

It takes Shoko telling him to leave the poor Kohai alone for him to finally understand that you don’t like him. And then he’s just confused and embarrassed.

And a tinge bit irritated.

Gojo knows for a fact he could make any girl want him. Even those who seem to hate him would melt if he gave them the same attention he’s been giving you. Any girl. He could have any girl, but he chose you. And you reject him?

No. He can’t accept that.

“Most girls would be grateful for my attention,” He states plainly after having tracked you down.

Your head snapped, jolting. “Gojo Senpai—” You dropped the mop in your hands with a clatter, having been deep in your own thoughts on classroom cleaning duty. You sighed as the scare settled, giving a breathy laugh, “You scared me—”

“Is that it?” he interrupted. “I scare you?”

You quirked a brow with a tilt of your head. “What?”

“Do I scare you?” he repeated, louder, posted on the threshold in a stance you’d never seen him in—stiff and squared, not his usual lazy laidbackness.

Confused, your eyes looked around as if searching for clues but came up emptyhanded, “Uhm, I don’t understand—”

“It’s a simple question,” he said, cutting you off again, this time with a step into the classroom. He talked slowly, cradling the next words, “Are you scared of me?”

Where it all came from, you hadn’t a clue. But then again, Gojo Senpai has always been rather strange. 

Were you scared of him? It’s not really something you’ve ever thought about. Sure, if you were to go one versus one with him, you’d probably piss yourself. But in a regular setting, you just found him to be as grating as the next person.

“I don’t think so?” you end up answering.

“Good. So what is it then?” His shades were low enough for his stare to skim over. Brighter than clear skies, and yet, somehow, so dark. “Why don’t you like me.”

Oh, so he’s figured it out on his own then. It’s about time. And thank fuck for it—saves you the trouble of breaking it to him yourself. Though you were still left with the unfair task of telling him why.

“Honestly, Gojo Senpai, I’m not, or well… you’re just not my type.”

Stick to the basics, is what you told yourself. There’s no need to drag this out.

“Yeah, I figured. I’m asking why,” he countered, in complete disagreement with your thought.

Still, you wanted to fight for it. “Does it really matter?”

“Yes.”

This conversation was the last thing you wanted, but it seemed the white-haired prodigy wouldn’t leave without having it.

“Well…” you started, still pondering. Maybe he’d appreciate the honesty? He’s a rather straightforward guy himself. “I mean, there’s no way you don’t already know this, but—” You picked up the broom again mid-sentence. “You’re really obnoxious.”

He took a small second before he scoffed, “So? No one else cares.”

It reminded you of arguing with someone half your age—the petty anger in an ill-thought-through comment slung at you as if it carried all the weight in the world. But what everyone else thought of him hadn’t anything to do with you—and even so, out of the people on campus, you’re certain you’re not the only one who finds his attitude unpleasant—they just don’t tell it to his face. 

You had half the mind to tell him to go get a grip, but he was still your Senpai.

“Good for you, I guess?” You weren’t really looking to fight with him, after all. “So you can flirt with literally anyone else then,” you dismiss him and go back to finish cleaning the classroom—glad to have put it all behind you. You were starting to fear he’d never leave you alone.

There’s a woosh, then the hard thunk of your back hitting the wall. Both your upper arms are gripped tight, pinned. When you open your eyes again after adjusting to the impact, you look straight up into the full view of two crisp comet blues.

“You’re mighty rude for a Kohai. You know that?”

Your head stings. You blink crookedly.

“Senpai—”

“Maybe I’ve misjudged you. D’you have anythin’ for show to back that attitude up?” It’s eerie how he says it in the same flirty fashion he would otherwise—even the look in his eyes are the same. But his grip tightens.

“I don’t want to fight—”

“No?” he cuts you off with a pout. “I could've sworn you were asking for it—all but begging for it a second ago.”

You whimper, cowering at the sudden bite in his voice.

“What’s the matter, huh? I thought you said you weren’t scared?”

Your voice comes out weak, “Please, Gojo Senpai, I—”

“Please?” he questions brightly, eyes stark and burning like a stovetop. “Yeah, that’s got a nicer ring to it—suits you better.” The smile that splits across his face is nothing short of unhinged. “But it’s not enough for me to let your disrespect slide.” He licks his lips, and a chill runs up your spine, feeling like caught prey. “Lucky you, I know exactly what price to put on it.”

His mouth devour yours the same way—pouncing like a beast would, with teeth more than lips, then a tongue. You whine as you twist—it’s more instinctive than deliberate when your knee shoots up into the unprotected space between his legs—right into that thing that was rubbing and rutting against you.

You make a run for it as he staggers back with a hiss, but you don’t make it farther than three measly steps before you’re bent over the closest desk.

His fist wrangles your hair, using it to shove you face-down against the wood—the weight of his body on top of your back with his voice raspy against your ear. “We could’ve left this with a kiss, but I don’t think it’s gonna be that easy now.”

Tears spill hotly in a panic, but no matter how much strength you put into lifting yourself up, you remain down. Sobbing, “Let go—help—”

He snickers with a hand under your skirt, spidering delicately up your thigh. “Who’re you callin’ for help, hm? I’m already here.”

♡ GOJO SATORU masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[soobnny]

my girl — jeongin x f!reader ; the boys find out their youngest has a gf

(1.3k words)

It’s a once in a while thing for the boys to be able to eat out together.

Challenges usually pose through schedule conflicts, one or the other being absent, and timing. They can never truly catch a break. So, when the first sign of a temporary alignment showed, they took the opportunity in a flash.

It was going to be their first dinner together in months, one of their off days.

Usually, the next challenge of indecisiveness would present itself. However, their youngest is quick to suggest a place.

Apparently, they had really good jjajangmyun.

(The boys didn’t know then, but it was because the faster they could decide where to eat, the faster he could go visit you.)

(They also didn’t know then that jjajangmyun was your favorite.)

A chorus of laughter echoes through the little corner store as they’re served their third plate of food. Jeongin didn’t lie about their food, and it was a safe enough space for them to celebrate the end of their latest comeback season.

“Seungmin, you’re getting really brave with your jokes about PD-nim.”

“I ran that contract renewal like the military.”

They spend the night joking, revisiting their past, and being hopeful for the future. A few grateful messages are exchanged after liquid courage is brought to their table. And while a simple night, the boys knew they’d remember this day for the rest of their lives.

There’s quiet pop music playing in the back—the kind you’d hear in the early 2000s. And Han Jisung orders another plate of jjajangmyun.

“Ayen, the food here is crazy good. How’d you find this place?”

Jeongin snaps out of his mental chant at the call of his name, fox-eyes trained on the older boy before the question reverberates in his mind. “My girlfriend recommended it.”

A pin drops.

Their youngest has a habit of lying, taken after his roommate, Seungmin. He usually does it with sneaky smiles and a few giggles. However, both signs indicative of lying are absent, and the boy has the audacity to refill his plate and keep eating as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on his members.

“Girlfriend?” Hyunjin is the first to speak, asking the boy to reiterate what he had just said, even though he heard. Loud and clear, in fact.

“Uhuh.” Jeongin replies through a mouthful of food. “What?”

He looks curiously around the table. His friends’ eyes are glazed, and he’d expected the conversation to be over three minutes ago, but it doesn’t.

Jeongin is in the middle of another bite when all hell breaks loose.

“Girlfriend?!” It’s said even louder now, more amplified, and Hwang Hyunjin stands from where he was previously seated in pure disbelief. All the while, their eldest is having an existential crisis. “Innie, what do you mean?”

He perks his head up, pursing his lips slightly and tilting his head. “What’s the big deal?”

“You have a girlfriend and you didn’t tell us?” It’s Han’s turn to be perplexed, and it’s humorous the way his features mimic the dramatic shock on Hyunjin’s.

Seungmin simply keeps eating.

“Yah, Kim Seungmin. Why aren’t you as surprised as us?”

“I already knew.”

“Seungmin knew, but not us?!”

“Not my fault he trusts me with dating advice.”

That boy definitely knows how to add fuel to fire. Chaos erupts as the younger half harass Seungmin for knowing before them.

“How long have you been dating?,” Minho asks.

“Just around 3 months now.”

If Chan was out of it then, you wouldn’t know how to describe his state now. Felix sits next to him to comfort the poor boy.

“My baby has been dating for 3 months, and I didn’t know anything.”

“Sorry.” Jeongin responds bashfully, scratching the back of his head. He knew his hyungs would act this way, which had led to his decision of keeping it hidden for a while. He thinks he should’ve just told them right away.

Though, he thought they’d known by now. He wasn’t exactly the most secretive about it, and he was sure he’d mentioned you before.

And although shocking to suddenly hear that their youngest (and their baby) had a girlfriend, they will not have his head for it. They know he’s responsible enough to know what not to do, and it was a little touching to know the boy had enough time to fit romance in his life.

“Show us what she looks like!”

The boys get a selfie of you that’s set as his lockscreen, and it’s enough proof to have the boys cooing at how adorable you two would be together.

“Motherfucker, she’s really pretty.” Changbin comments.

“I know.”

Meanwhile, Han and Hyunjin are making up fake scenarios in the corner, scrolling through photos and videos. Then a message.

While their youngest is distracted, Han quickly taps on the notification.

(8:23pm) innie: I miss u

(8:30pm) ynie: miss u too!!!!

(8:31pm) innie: Wish you were here right now

(8:32pm) ynie: aren’t u celebrating with ur friends rnnn

(8:32pm) ynie: stop texting me and enjoy !!!

(8:33pm) innie: But i miss u

(8:33pm) innie: Call me later?

(8:36pm) ynie: after you spend time with ur friends let’s call

(8:37pm) innie: Wanna call now. Just for a second

(8:37pm) innie: Haven’t heard your voice in a while

(8:37pm) ynie: ok fine >:( give me like 10-15 mins

(8:51pm) ynie: i’ll call now

“Oh my god, she’s calling.”

That’s definitely enough to get Jeongin’s attention.

“Give me my phone back.” He reaches out to them, but Hyunjin is fast enough to swipe it.

“Answer it!” Changbin instigates.

Jeongin’s eyes widen in horror when he hears your voice go through his phone. “Innie? Oh—hello.”

You sound so shy, and Chan feels like he’s about to cry. “She calls him Innie.”

The youngest finally snatches his phone back when all Hyunjin could do was stare at you through the screen of his phone. You were real. Yang Jeongin actually has a girlfriend.

“Hi.” He mumbles, moving away from their table to talk to you privately. Though, before he does, he makes sure he leaves a threat to the boys not to follow him. “‘M sorry, did they scare you, baby?”

“It’s okay, I was just surprised.”

Jeongin visibly melts at the sound of your voice. “The boys know about us now.”

“I figured.” You laugh, and the service at the restaurant doesn’t do the warmth of your laughter any justice. He can’t wait to see you later.

“Can I see you later?”

“Mkay, but just… enjoy your time with the boys, okay? You told me it’s been a while since all of you were able to relax over a meal like this.”

“Fine.” He sighs, before a smile creeps on his face. “They liked your suggestion.”

“That’s good. Now go!” There’s a pout on his lips when you shoo him away. “Go have fun, go! I’m hanging up now. Love you!”

“Love you too.”

The wide, bright smile remains on his face even when he goes back to their table.

“Who has our Ayen smiling like that?”

“My girl.”

“Innie’s getting soft.” Minho teases.

Seungmin, on the other hand, fake vomits at his response, and another chorus of laughter bursts from their seats. The night continues through conversations over Jeongin’s sudden revelation, and the promise to let the boys meet you properly next time. He agrees if they promise not to scare you away.

And while he’d kept you a secret for a while, he can’t help but feel a tinge of happiness in his heart that the most important people in his life know about you now, are even eager to meet you. There is no better contentment than all of the people he loves aligning with one another.

The entire night, Jeongin itches in anticipation to hold you in his arms and hear your voice in person after his schedules had torn apart his much needed quality time with you. And when he asks to leave, they don’t need to know where he’s going.

One look at his face, and the only evident answer is you.

[sparklingchim]

game on | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2.2k

genre: footballer!jungkook, fake dating, f2l

rating: pg

warnings: koo gets scolded for sleeping around 🥺, playboy jk <3, hints of a threesome ����, oc fights w a laundry machine

summary: jungkook is in desperate need to polish up his playboy image, and naturally, he turns to you for help.

a/n: hii my pretty besties!!!! it's my bday😋 so i wanted to share this silly piece i've been having so much fun writing!!! love uuu n treat urself to smth nice for me today <3 mwah😙

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Jeon Jungkook is a charming man – and he is well aware of the fact. He plays that card effortlessly.

Most of the time, it works in his favour.

But sometimes, it backfires spectacularly and gets him into trouble.

Which is why he stands in front of his fuming manage, who is radiating enough anger to fill the entire office.

The sight isn’t foreign to Jungkook. He wouldn’t say he is used to it, but he has found himself often enough in this situation to recognise the signs of deep trouble.

Not only is Jungkook’s charm complicating things, but the fact that he is famous too.

Sometimes, he uses that as an advantage. Not in an obvious way — never by flaunting his own achievements or demanding special treatment.

That’s not his style.

His name alone carries weight, and he knows how to let it work for him, quietly bending the world to his will... until the world pushes back.

And right now, it’s pushing back hard.

One thing Jeon Jungkook does enjoy about being a pro footballer, though, is the way women obsess over him.

He knows they love him – sees it in the comments they leave on his ig posts, sees it in the DMs flooding his inbox daily, and experiences it firsthand at public events, where hordes of fans scream his name. Jungkook thrives on that attention.

However, something he doesn’t love, and what he was never prepared for, is the media. The way they scrutinise his every move, how his face ends up on every headline anytime he does something remotely noteworthy.

And now, thanks to his latest shenanigan getting caught by the press, here he is. Standing in front of his manager, Taesung, and his PR agent, Jiwoo, eyes downcast, bracing himself for the scolding that’s already begun.

“You’ve gone too far this time, Jungkook.”

His manager speaks in a flat, monotonous voice, void of even the slightest hint of disappointment, as if he’d long since given up expecting anything different.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to clean up the mess you leave behind?”

A sense of guilt creeping up on Jungkook, even though he knows if he were just a regular guy, none of this would matter at all. And he finds it a bit unfair.

But to survive in this business, you can’t complain about unfairness.

“Have you completely lost your mind?” Taesung barks.

Jungkook remains silent. He forces himself to.

“If there was more involved than just alcohol-”

“No! Nothing like that,” he denies, his response firm and immediate. “It was just alcohol – and, well, just good vibes because we won the last match, and with the World Cup being next, everyone was just really excited.”

If he had known what kind of trouble a simple, innocent celebration of his team’s win at a club would bring, he would’ve gone straight home yesterday. He would’ve skipped the rounds of drinks, the flashing lights, the loud music, and definitely the attention. But hindsight was useless now.

“Good,” his manager says. “I’m glad you were happy.” Mock sympathy drips from his voice. “Perhaps the last time you are going to be happy this year.”

Jungkook nods, accepting the gravity of the situation. No more clubs, no more parties, no more girls.

At least, not for a while. His reputation had taken a few hits recently, and this latest mess wasn’t helping. He could almost hear the whispers: reckless, irresponsible, unprofessional. The kind of things that could ruin him if he didn’t get a handle on it.

He clenched his jaw. No more distractions. From now on, it was all about the game. He needed to remind everyone why he was Jeon Jungkook — the best on the field, not just the headlines.

“You’re no longer in for the World Cup. You’re out.”

His head snaps up at that. Did he hear that right?

“What?! What do you mean?”

“Myungbo doesn’t want you on the team anymore.” Taesung’s words sound heavy and final.

Jungkook’s heart pounds in his ears.

His world tilts. The room seems to spin, the edges of his vision darkening. This wasn’t just a setback — it was a disaster. The World Cup was everything to him, and now it felt like it was slipping through his fingers. The crushing weight of the news settles on his chest, making it hard to breathe. One silly night is all that happened.

He can’t believe that a single photo of him leaving the club with two girls clinging to each arm has cost him his spot on the national football team. He went home with two girls – so what?

But he doesn’t voice his frustration. He knows better than to add fuel to the fire. Speaking his mind now would only escalate the situation and make things worse. Jungkook knows from experience.

He swallows hard, forcing himself to stay calm. His pulse is still racing, but he takes a deep breath, focusing on controlling his emotions. He has to keep a level head if he’s going to find a way to fix this.

“There has to be a way to fix this.” His eyes move to Jiwoo, his PR agent. “Right?”

His manager fixes him with a stern glare. “Jungkook, remember the promise you gave everyone a few months ago?” Taesung reminds him.

Jungkook cringes. When he made a promise to avoid actions that might damage his reputation, he didn’t think it’d be that serious. He cut back on going out, made the effort to play the role of the “good boy” but really – come on. He can’t maintain that facade for an eternity. Especially after a triumphant victory like yesterday’s.

Taking away his spot on the national football team? He didn’t think that was possible.

“How many more times do we have to fix your problems, because you don’t care enough? How many times do we have to repeat this scenario?”

“I promise I’ll better myself,” he pleads desperately, looking back and forth between his manager and his PR agent. Someone has to believe him, help him.

“Do you genuinely believe this country wants to be represented by a 20-year-old boy, who can’t keep his personal life under control?” Taesung asks, eyebrows deeply pinched together. “This isn’t just about you, Jungkook. It’s about the team, the fans, and the nation. They need a role model, not a scandal waiting to happen.”

“I know. I know.” Jungkook scrambles for something convincing to say, desperate to sway their decision. This can’t be it. He won’t let his career take a hit because of something like this. “But – but this isn’t too bad. This is fixable. I can fix this.” His voice quivers with a desperation he barely recognises as his own. “Jiwoo.” Jungkook turns to her with pleading eyes. “You always know what to do. Please, help me”

“I did propose an idea but-”

“We’re not doing that,” Taesung cuts in. “It’s off the table.”

“What is it?” Jungkook’s eyes bounce back and forth between them. “I’ll do anything. This is – this is everything to me. You have to give me a chance.”

Taesung scoffs. “A chance? As far as I know, you have been given countless chances.”

Sweat coats the back of Jungkook’s neck.

Taesung understands just how much Jungkook has fought to secure his place on the national team. He’s well aware that it’s one of Jungkook’s greatest dreams, a pinnacle of his career that he’s poured countless hours of hard work and sacrifice into. That’s why, each morning, when he wakes up to the latest news of Jungkook’s escapades, he feels a deep sense of disappointment, texting Jungkook with a dejected shake of his head to visit his office first thing in the morning.

When it’s all he wants, like Jungkook claims, why doesn’t he act like it?

“If the head coach won’t give me a chance now, he’ll never do. This is my last opportunity to change his mind, make him rethink. I need to at least try.”

Jiwoo looks at the manager, waiting for his approval. He nods.

“Very simply put: you need a girlfriend,” she says.

For a second, Jungkook is at loss for words.

“A girlfriend? How’s that going to help?” Jungkook tilts his head in confusion. This is not how he thought Jiwoo was going to save him.

“You need a girlfriend to help polish up your image as a player. It’ll make you appear more like a gentleman, softer and nicer. We need to completely shift public perception and counter the negative image they’ve formed about you. It’s all about changing the narrative,” she explains.

“And that is not something we can easily achieve,” Taesung interjects. “Rebranding your entire persona is not feasible at this stage. You’ve been projecting what kind of boy you are to the media for the past two years. It’s going to be incredibly difficult to make a sudden shift look genuine.”

“No! We — I can make it seem real. This is my only chance,” Jungkook insists, his voice gaining a hint of determination. For a moment, breathing feels a bit easier again. “The World Cup is just a month away. That’s enough time to shift public opinion and prove I’m worthy of representing the country on the team.” There’s a hopeful lilt in his voice as he speaks, clinging to the belief that he might not have to bid farewell to his biggest dream after all.

But his manager doesn’t look as hopeful as Jungkook feels.

“How are we going to find a girl who will agree to this? Someone who isn’t an obsessive fan, understands this is purely professional, and can keep quiet? You won’t be able to pull this off.”

“I was actually thinking-” Jiwoo starts, but she’s cut off.

Jungkook hesitates, glancing between them before speaking. “Actually... I think I already have someone in mind.” His voice is more measured now. “That’s not the issue.” Jungkook doesn’t need to think twice.

Taesung sighs while Jiwoo looks at Jungkook apologetically.

“You can’t rebrand your entire persona from a playboy to a lover boy within a month, Jungkook. This is over.” His manager shakes his head, a sense of finality glimmering in his eyes.

One thing that Jungkook forgot to mention is that he is an extremely competitive man, too.

~

“This is ridiculous.”

You kick the laundry machine in frustration, but all you end up doing is yelping and clutching your aching foot.

“That’s the third time this month,” you mutter under your breath. “What did I even spend all that money on if it’s just going to break down whenever it feels like it?”

You shoot a death glare at the machine, teetering on the edge of losing your mind.

“Guess I’ll have to use the public laundromat again,” you sigh, grabbing the overflowing laundry basket filled with your and your roommate's clothes, and heading out of the bathroom with a huff.

On your way to the front door, the doorbell rings.

Please, you think. You were hoping for some quiet, uninterrupted time to deep-clean your dorm on this peaceful Sunday with no one around.

But when you peek through the peephole and see Jungkook standing there, your frustration melts away. You swing the door open, the laundry basket tumbling to the floor beside you in your haste.

“Jungkook!” you exclaim. “You’re timing is perfect! Can you please fix my laundry machine again? It’s been acting up, and I’m getting frustrated.” You groan annoyed.

Jungkook doesn’t share the same excitement upon seeing you.

You grow smaller and take an indecisive step back.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, noticing the tension in his features. “Did you lose the match yesterday? I couldn’t keep up because I had too much cramming to do last night.”

While studying medicine had always been your dream, the reality is less exciting. Right now, it means sleepless nights and relentless pressure. You know that pursuing this path will offer you many privileges later in life, but you have to suffer first.

“I need your help.”

His dark eyes, usually bright and full of energy, seem clouded with worry, and his hair falls messily over his forehead, like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times in frustration.

“Are you okay?” You study him closely, scanning his face for any signs of injury. Physically, he seems fine — still tall, muscular, and as fit as ever. But something is clearly off.

“You need to do something for me.”

“I can help,” you reply, your voice soft with concern. ‘But what is it…?”

“Can you be my girlfriend?”

You blink, repeatedly.

“Huh?”

You start giggling when he doesn’t add more. You expect him to clarify or laugh along, but Jungkook stays serious, stepping closer and gently taking your hands in his. You look down at them, then back up at his face, utterly bewildered.

“You’re silly, Jungkook. If someone on the team made you do this, tell them you did the punishment and quit acting so weird.”

It’s too early in the morning for Jungkook’s nonsense.

“No, ___, you don’t understand.” He squeezes your hands when he feels you trying to pull them back. “I actually need you to do it.”

“Do what?”

“Fake date me.”

[sugutiva]

❝ THAT P ★ SSY GOT POWER ! ❞ — G. SATORU

ᥫ᭡. synopsis : for some reason . . . the strongest sorcerer in the world ( purposely ) got struck by a lust curse.

tags : smut, p in v, oral sex ( f! receiving ), enemies to lovers (?), reader folds quickly LMAO, gojo eats us out against the wall . . . again, hair pulling, pussy spanking, overstimulation, teasing, cowgirl, switch!gojo, slight orgasm denial, creampie, cursing, dirty talk, all lowercase intended, not proofread !

a/n : if this flops again tumblr is RACIST.

“ we need you to go talk to gojo satoru, and convince him to come back to jujutsu high.”

oh. so he’s the reason why you’re attending a meeting even though it’s your off day.

your face twists into an expression of displeasure, not only from the burdensome demand of gakuganji and possibly the other higher ups, but from the sound of his gravelly voice ringing throughout the spacious room. nonetheless, you bite your tongue. “ seriously, me? why would i ever do something like that?”

it’s extremely rare as a sorcerer to catch a simple day off, and the fact that you were called in to fetch a man-child to come back to his responsibilities was . . . aggravating. to say the least.

gakuganji continues, “ his disappearance has already gone on further than we’d like,” he takes a pause to lift his head slightly, looking you dead in the eyes. “ so seeing how you’re the only free adult, we chose you to go fetch for him.”

you cross your arms and legs before leaning back in the couch. as he explains in more detail on how there’s an increase of curses, and how no one's teaching the second and first years, ( not like they’d mind ) you start to feel a twinge of sympathy.

sure, you and gojo don’t see eye to eye sometimes, but it was unusual for him to go missing all of a sudden and leave everything behind. ( although he’d eerily fantasize about killing the higher ups whenever he was provoked enough ) you uncross your body before standing up from the couch swiftly.

“ i’ll check on him. but i wouldn’t guarantee a return from him,”

“ great choice, [last name].”

- -

all for jujutsu high and humanity.

giving three loud knocks to his door, you wait, and get no answer in response. “ gojo satoru, can you open up already?” you yell, surely loud enough for him to at least crack the door open. still, you get no answer from the other side.

just as you were casually mapping the outside of his house for an easy way to get inside, the door swiftly opens. there stood the man in question in all of his glory; he wore grey baggy sweats— and it seemed like no boxers underneath because of how his white happy trail seductively peeked out from underneath while the print of his cock was hardly concealed. the upper half of his toned body shined in a coat of sweat while he leaned his upper body against the door frame.

was he exercising. . . or maybe doing something else?

“ you just gonna stare at me after almost breaking my door off it’s hinges?”

shit. he caught you practically gawking at him.

“ i— um. we need to talk,” you gulp, feeling more nervous compared to any other time you’ve talked to him before. “ you‘ve been playing hooky for quite too long now and the higher ups are on my ass about it.”

he stares at you unfazed, you stare back.

but to your surprise, instead of slamming the door in your face and hiding away for longer, he shifts his body over, enough for you to come inside.

“ geez. those hags don’t ever know when to fall back.” he dramatically groans as you hesitantly step in to take your shoes off before walking in further.

vaguely, you swear you felt the weight of his eyes tracing your figure as you walk into his apartment, heading to his living room. you choose to brush it off.

inside it’s modern and creepily bare, like there’s no one actually existing in here— including this alluring scent. it’s not bad but it is heavy, as if a burdensome weight is on your shoulders. definitely musk but the strong scent of cinnamon is also within the mix. again, you brush it off while sinking down into the couch cushions, too late to turn back now.

gojo walks in later than you, and instead of sitting across from you— he plops right next to you, sluggishly resting his long arms on the back of the couch while manspreading, his freakishly lengthy legs invades the little space you have. your face contorts into an expression of outwardly discomfort. “ why’re you sitting right next to me, gojo?”

“ you rudely wake me up by pounding on my door, and now i can’t sit where i want in my living room?” he blows out a breath of air while rolling his eyes with a level of sass that makes you cringe slightly. “ girl. you really don’t have any manners at all. not like that’s a surprise tho—“

” please, let’s just focus on the reason why i came here.” you curtly cut him off, barely refraining yourself from slapping him in the head now that his infinity was off.

you knew he wouldn’t listen in the first place, so the sight of his head hanging off the couch while his leg rocked up and down rhythmically like this was the most boring lecture he had to sit through shouldn’t really piss you off— but it does. you let out an exhausted groan while rubbing your temples to soothe your growing headache. you really wish you hadn’t picked up the phone today. “ do you even care about the effect your disappearance has caused right now? you really are a careless manchi—“

“ i need to fuck you.” he bluntly states.

what? you couldn’t had possibly heard that right.

“ i-i’m sorry?”

he shifts, his body is now upright, contrasting his previous lazy posture. “ you want to know why i’ve been gone?” he waits for you to nod, which you do. “ i got struck by some sort of lust curse, so in order for it to go away, we need to fuck.” you don’t get a chance to fully register his words before his lips are on yours.

you feel him sigh into your mouth, as if you two making out on his couch relieved him from all his frustrations. you can’t deny that you’re into it like how he is, especially when he rolls his raging bulge into the inside of your thigh so desperately— but this isn’t the reason why you came here. obviously gojo thinks otherwise.

“ g-gojo! we can’t,” your voice trembles, and so does your body as you push the white haired man away from you. when he looks back in your eyes, you immediately notice that there’s truly something wrong. his pupils are wildly dilated— to the point where you can barely see his signature blue.

the intensity of his gaze freezes you in place. but you can’t shake off the feeling of being lured in.

almost like he’s hypnotizing you.

“ says who, baby?” his hand creeps down to the waist band of your pants, he tugs on your panties, only letting them go so they can soundly snap back against your skin, making your hips jolt in his grasp. “ don’t deny it now. i bet ya’ she’s gonna be leaking f’me.” the palm of his hand grinds down on your clothed mound.

this time, you’re the one to pull him into a heated kiss, and he matches your energy fully. your nails scratches at his undercut, forcing a needy moan to leave his chest and wander into your awaiting mouth. the kiss is so intense that you don’t realize that he’s taken off your pants along with your underwear until your bare skin touches around his while he carries you into his bedroom.

he presses your back to the wall only to hike you up further on the wall— the way how you’re positioned is that you’re currently using him as your own chair.

“ you do the most. are you really going to eat me out against a wall?” you tut, knowing that you’re not actually against the idea. your question isn’t answered with words, but when he presses moist kisses leading from your thigh to your soaked cunt, you think you have a inkling of the answer.

he blows on your erect clit before focusing his attention on your flustered face. “ for someone who was pushing me away . . . you sure are soaked.” your mouth opens, most likely with a bratty response. although it’s quickly forgotten when he presses a spit filled peck on your clit. there’s a line of spit that connects him to your cunt as he pulls away. “ ‘m not tryna embarrass you. just find it quite adorable.”

“ w-will you ever just shut up, and eat me out? i’m sick of hearin’ your mouth, gojo.” you murmur, watching as his grin grows impossibly wider— the bastard is riling you up on purpose just for his twisted entertainment. there will be a time later on tonight where you’ll get him back for that.

but for now, you need to feel his tongue mapping out every inch of your pussy.

he huskily chuckles, you want to ignore the effect that the sound does to you. “ heh. i got you baby,” with that, he rolls his tongue out on your heat, licking a fat stripe of spit in the direction to your pulsing clit. your body shudders as you finally get what you desire; your sworn enemy eating you out while your figure is trapped between him and a wall.

and oh is he nasty with it.

“ s-shit— you’re doing s’gooood, satoru!” you lewdly whine out, the knuckles of your hands turn a shade brighter than your skin as you tug on his pristine hair. moving away from your clit, he focuses on sloppily flicking your opening with his tongue. “ satooooru!”

for this being your first time hooking up together, gojo is uncannily skilled at fucking you dumb with only his tongue. it makes you yearn for what else he can do to you next.

gojo pulls back from your cunt, the lower half of chin is alluringly coated with your juices and his saliva. “ damn. she tastes too fuckin’ good. and why have you been keeping this away from me for so long?” he mutters to himself rather than you. his hand comes down on your cunt as a harsh smack, he delivers another and another before waiting for your reaction. when more slick dribbles out your hole, sliding down to your ass, it makes him want to go beyond feral.

“ looks like i’ve got myself a masochistic slut, heh.” no more is said as his mouth resumes back on your pussy, throwing you back into that wave of euphoria. the muscles in your thighs twitch, drawing him closer to your syrupy madness.

satoru moans, his hips bucks up on the wall as if to find some friction while splitting you down with that wonderful tongue. your toes are curled, back lifting from off the wall and every strangled moan you yell makes him thrust his tongue faster, along with his hips— the distant pleasure coming from fucking the wall is not near enough to make him cum, not that he’s worried about that, as your hypnotic taste is making him shamefully pussydrunk.

“ oh. ooooh, ‘m so close, you’re gonna make me cum!” you pant out while instinctively clamping your walls around his tongue shoving itself in. he’s more determined than ever, messily tongue fucking you while kneading your ass in his big hands. how he manages to hold you up by your ass only, it’s still a wonder.

your hips have a mind of their own as they grind down for your sweet release, and at this rate you don’t know if your pulling him away or closer to you. but when he hollowly sucks at your empty hole, that triggers your powerful orgasm.

“ d-don’t stooop! i’m cumming!” your eyes clamp shut as you throw your head back before bursting out into trembles. satoru continues to listen to your earlier words. he delivers kitten licks onto your clit just begging for his attention. “ satoru— i’m too sensitive,”

he doesn’t care to listen.

finally, he comes up from the spot between your thighs as your recovering from yet another messy orgasm. “ okay messy girl, as much as i love eating you out— i think you should show me some attention too.”

wordlessly, he carries your limp body over to his bed— in the traditional bridal carry this time. you think it’s somewhat romantic, but of course gojo has to ruin it by chucking you on piece of furniture, making you meet his incredibly soft duvets face first. “ the fuck?” you gain composure by lifting yourself on your hands and knees, looking back to throw him the nastiest glare you could muster. “ i swear at this point you’re getting no pussy, gojo.”

he pays your words no mind. as he pulls his pants down, his cock uncontrolledly springs free from it’s restraint. fuck, it was so big and pretty. the sheer length will no doubtfully have you feeling over cockdrunk, his tip flushes an angry red that makes your mouth water.

“ what about not getting any pussy?” he cheekily mocks you, stroking the head of his cock to smear the pearly pre-cum down his length.

“ shut the fuck up and get on the bed.” you whine, struggling by the second to keep up your bratty facade. the sound of the bed dipping under his body weight makes you flip over on your elbows and spread your legs wide for his gaze.

complying, he still rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue. “ geez. okay daddy,” his hands grabs you by the thighs and yanks you on your back completely. he presses the slit of his head against your clit, watching with delight as your folds compliments each side of his cock like a lewd hotdog. “ yer’ so mouthy but that’s expected, gonna have to fix that little problem though.”

“ i’m the mouthy one? that’s real fuckin’ funny coming from the one who cannot shut up for one second to save his life.” you bitterly cackle, although your voice comes out shaken from the audible clicks of your pussy getting played with. when he slightly dips into the warmth of your opening before trailing upwards to your clit again, you resist the urge to strangle him. “ — if you’re teasing me, i’m going to hurt you.”

he rolls his eyes unenthusiastically at the cold stare you give him from underneath your full eyelashes. “ tsk. you’re no fun, baby.” with one swift movement, he’s sinking into your gummy walls with a relieved groan.

maybe, because of the high side effects of the lust curse running it’s course is the reason why satoru finds himself cumming too early with not even a full pump.

and it’s a lot.

“ s-shiiiit— that was t-too early, can’t s-stop!” his body bursts into violent trembles— mimicking your own previously. hot ropes of cum taints your walls with the sensation of his cum while his hands grab at your thighs with a death grip that will for sure leave bruises later, having you sore for days. you think it’s rather endearing how vulnerable he looks.

gojo was just— if not more, surprised than you were.

it feels like forever when he finally comes down from his high, and you feel out of breath just watching him. “ that . . . that was not supposed to h-happen.” he weakly mutters, his head hanging down from embarrassment. somwhat, you’re prideful knowing that only you had him feeling like this.

“ ‘nd all that big talk just for you to be a one pump champ,” now, it’s his turn to weakly glare at you, “ think you can still fuck me? or do i have to ride you?” you grab a fistful of his hair before tugging his face close, to the point where your breath fans over his open, panting mouth. the pain from your dominant actions shoots through his veins and to his sensitive cock, resulting in it twitching greedily in your tense walls. “ am i talking to myself, satoru?”

“ fuck— n-no.”

you smirk, and to satoru you look exceedingly sexy and evil; a deadly combo. “ my good boy,” you peck his lips, letting the grip you have of his hair go so he can pull out of you. when he does, copious amounts of cum immediately pours from your quivering hole in a thick, flowing motions with a loud popping sound to accompany. with just one load he’s managed to stuff you full.

he flips over while hugging your body close to his. relaxing his figure, he watches as you aligned yourself against him, your shirt long gone by now, and your body is beautifully presented to him with the marks he inflicted upon the free reign of skin.

you could tell he wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

“ don’t— don’t think about teasing me now, not when i need you this m-much.” he briefly forgets how to breath as your sticky folds rubs against the head of his cock, drowning in more cum until it reaches his base.

“ oh, you don’t like your own game being played on you?” you grunt, rolling your hips sensually down. his adam’s apple bobs as swallows his growing anticipation he can barely contain. but after a few dragged out moments of teasing, resulting in you feeling torturously edged as well— you finally sink down on him. “ fuuuck . . .” you whisper to yourself.

you lips tremor as you pause, allowing yourself to being properly stretched out as your pussy invites in as much as possible. this isn’t the first time you’ve had sex with someone, but the hefty length of satoru makes you pause before going on. when the dull stinging pain shifts to that familiar mouth watering pleasure, you find your pace. satoru hands fly out to grip the sheets with faux serenity as your pussy continues to clamp around him like a vice grip.

“ haaah, you just couldn’t w-wait to fuck yourself silly on my cock, huh?” his voice is eerily clear, as if he wasn’t a overstimulated mess from his previous release. you make fiery eye contact with him, the way how his eyes are hazed but still feel so heavy on your body makes you almost go numb. “ this is everything i needed baby, shit!”

“ that mouth never knows when to s-shut up.” you mutter out, before the action of you bouncing up and down on his lap increases viciously. the sinful sounds of your skin clashing down against his, every inch of him knocking on your sweet spot, and both of your sweet moans combined together sounded like an erotic song that gojo would never get tired of hearing. “ sa— mmph, satoruu!” gojo has the most cockiest but pathetic expression right now; his brows are furrowed while he shamelessly watched you recoil your body against his.

“ i . . . i think ‘m close, keep on rocking your hips like that— fuck, you’re so sexy!” his tip spasms in your tight space as a warning as of what’s about to come.

but suddenly, you stop moving. edging him on with a cheeky smirk.

you cut him off before he can talk, “ we can’t have you cumming just yet ‘toru.” he’s surprised he didn’t bust right then and there when you said his nickname in that sultry tone. you give him a vigorous show by rubbing two fingers on your pearl for his view.

“ such’a needy slut playing with her pussy f’me.” he bites his lip as he watches your clit swirl under your ministrations, his orgasm is on the back burner of his mind while he watches you. “ roll it just like that— there ya fuckin’ go, babe.”

once you feel your pleasure heighten inevitably, you resume back to bouncing on gojo. this time, with your hand advancing rapidly on your clit, and his calloused hands squeezing your ass heart fully. he effortlessly looks attractive underneath you, his chest and neck are flushed a sweaty mess as strands of his white hair sticks to his damp skin around his forehead.

“ wan’a cum with you, toru.” you lean over to nip his throat, your pussy contracts when you feel his breath hitch. “ want to feel you s-stuff me full, pleaseee fuck!”

it’s unintentional, but your whiny voice alone drags him into a powerful orgasm.

it’s not long before you follow suit.

“ my nasty good girl,” his voice comes out as an harsh whisper before he grabs your hair to tug you closer to his face. the kiss you share together is no short of animalistic; it’s all teeth with tongue, and when you pull away your lip is bleeding, tainting his own an alluring deep shade of red.

you force your hips to continue rocking against him due to the frenzy. increased squelches resonates through the fuzzy room along with your combined moans. you feel sparks of electricity shoot through your limbs, your cunt squeezes more slick out, creating a translucent ring around the hefty base of his cock.

there must be something in the air, seeing how many orgasms you pull out of each other.

for some reason . . . the strongest sorcerer in the world got struck by a lust curse.

and you’re able to bring him back a day later, with just your pussy alone.

[halosdiary]

Strawberry Shortcake | Toji x Bratty!Reader | 呪術廻戦

synopsis: You have to breed with the Zen'in clan's biggest liability. You refuse and he plays some games with you.

Contains: jealousy, mind games from Toji's side, humiliation, breeding, doggy, full Nelson, BASICALLY HATE FUCKING.

Word count: 3k

Toji doesn’t want to marry you. Not because it’s you, just because, well, he doesn’t want to marry anyone. He doesn’t want to listen to the Zenin clan at all. Marrying him off to the highest bidder, your parents, because he wasn’t a sorcerer. He hates you by association, even though it’s not your fault. But this marriage, should be rather, interesting.

“They expect me to breed with you?”

Toji asks you after the ceremony, sprawled on the futon. The Zenin clan had asked you to take his last name: Fushiguro.

All you did was ignore him, you hated this arrangement, All you wanted was freedom. You sighed as you walked over to the window looking at the view of the city. 

He watched you for a moment, studying your back as you move towards the window. He wasn’t expecting you to be friendly; neither of you wanted this.

He stood up from the futon and walked over to you, stopping a few feet behind you.

“You hate me,” he stated, his arms crossed over his broad chest as his eyes continued to look you up and down intently.

“You don’t even want to spend a single night with me, do you?”

"Hate is a strong word " you stated to him, giving him a side eye.

You turned back around to look at the view of the city. You looked down at the ring on your finger, so much shit has past you by and all you did was blink.

He stepped forward, standing right behind you, so you can practically feel his body heat. He lets out a quiet chuckle as his eyes move to your hand, where the ring is.

“The ring looks good on you, darling.” His breath fans over your ear and he places a hand on the window, effectively trapping you between the window and him.

“At least I get to look at this pretty face every day now.”

"You're so thoughtful." You said to him sarcastically.

You walk away from the window and roam into the kitchen. Not much was going on. You whipped out your phone and started texting friends.

There wasn't really much you or your new husband could do. It was clear as day you two weren't exactly fond of this wedding arrangement. As soon as you said "I do" and we're officially married, you immediately took the money your parents gave you and cut contact.

He followed you into the kitchen, leaning against the counter and watching you silently. He was trying to get a read on you. You didn’t speak to him much, and he had no idea how you might take things.

He wasn’t expecting to be met with sarcasm, that was for sure. Toji smirked, leaning against the counter. “Are you gonna act like that every time I open my mouth?” he called out to you, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Or should I just get a ball gag ready for you every night?”

You scoffed at his suggestions, and tried to shoo him off. He was unbelievable. For a man who didn't wanna be tied down he's really committed to his role as the husband. You scanned him up and down, if it weren't for the fact he wa s apiece of work, you admitted he was pretty attractive. 

"Real immature. Are you sure you can keep up with me, old man?"

He chuckled, finding your irritation entertaining. “Who’s old?” He pushed himself off the counter and slowly stalked towards you. “If you think I’m old, you think wrong, darling.”

He reached you, putting a hand on either side of you on the counter, trapping you once again. He loomed over you, his face was nearly touching yours as he tilted his head slightly. “And I think I’ll be able to keep up with you just fine, wife.”

"I have a name, old man." You sneered at him trying to get away from him.

He was entertained with the way you kept trying to get away from him. But every time, he’d find a way close the distance. He liked taunting you, seeing you get all riled up.

He chuckled again, putting a finger on your chin and forcing you to look at him. “I know you do, darling,” he said, using the nickname to annoy you even more. “But I like calling you wife.”

All you could was frown at him, you continued to text on your phone. Checking messages and looking at old pictures. You looked at the ring again, and sighed.

“Who are you texting?” He asked, looking over your shoulder at your phone. “New lover you’re gonna hide from your husband?”

He pushed his body against yours, trying to get a glimpse of your phone.

"Get over yourself, Fushiguro." You snapped at him, "I have more class than that. I'm not one of your floozies."

He smirked at that, putting a hand on your waist and pulling you close to him, making you drop your phone.

“Floozies?” He was amused. “Are you jealous, darling? Are you scared I’m going to have women coming over night after night?”

"Why would I be jealous of a cocky old man?" You smack him away from you.

"Be so fucking for real right now."  You walk off in a huff to a different room and slam the door.

He let out a low chuckle and smirked at your reaction. He was pushing your buttons, that was for sure, but he was enjoying it.

He casually followed you to the room you stormed off to and knocked on the door. “Come on, open the door, *wife*." He purposely used the word again, knowing you’d get annoyed. “Don’t you know it’s not nice to lock yourself away from your husband?”

"Let's face facts, you obviously want your freedom, so why don't you just go?"

He pushed open the door and walked into the room, standing at the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

“And go where, exactly?” he replied with a smirk. “I’ve been told by the head of the clan that it’s my duty to breed you. You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not, darling.”

"Go stick your sword up your ass, geezer." You hug your knees and just look away from him.

He chuckled at your words. “Is that anyway to talk to your husband?” he replied, his voice taunting.  “What a filthy mouth.”

He pushed himself off the bed and walked towards you, grabbing your chin in his hand and forcing you to look at him. “Watch it, *wife*. I can punish you for that attitude.”

You move yourself away from him once more. You weren't in the mood for this bullshit. You give your husband the middle finger and stepped out the apartment for a while. He watched you storm out with a smirk. It was too easy to rile you up, but it was also kind of fun, messing with you.

He got up and walked to the window, pulling the curtains back slightly so he could see you. He didn’t plan on letting you stay out for the rest of the night, but he would at least let you cool off first. You wandered off into the nice, cool night. You looked around, and people were just chatting away, dancing and laughing. The work day was over for most people, as normal they were heading to bars and have some fun.

He watched you walk off through the streets of the city. He didn’t plan on letting you be out for too long. He wanted to see if you’d make an attempt to get away.

There were plenty of bars and other people around, and the thought of you sneaking off with one of them didn’t settle well with him. He couldn’t exactly blame you, he wouldn’t want to be with him either, but he was your husband now. It was his duty to keep you by his side and it was your job to obey.

You were alone in a bar, drinking your sorrows away. You hated this arrangement. But something about you seemed to attract a lot of unwanted attention. 

A few men in the bar had taken an interest in you as you sat there drinking alone. Their eyes were on you, their gazes lingering on your form. Some glanced at you and smirked, while others sent winks your way.

You decided to ignore the attention and drink away. You don't know why your "husband" always managed to get under your skin, but he did it a little too well.

The attention was starting to get annoying. It was obvious they were hitting on you, but you just wanted to drink alone and deal with your problems in peace, not be bothered by some lowlifes.

One of the men approached you, sliding into the seat next to you. “Hey there, beautiful. You alone?” he said with a smirk.

"Look, whatever you want, I'm not entirely interested at the moment." You dismissed them and looked at your drink.

It was a strawberry shortcake martini, your favorite. 

The man raised his arms up in a surrender motion, laughing at your response. “Just asking. Can’t blame a guy for wanting to chat up a pretty girl like you.” He put his arms on the counter and leaned on them, looking at you intently.

”You look like you can use some company, though. You don’t look very happy.”

"It's a long story. You wouldn't wanna hear it." You just muster.

“Oh, but I’m a very good listener. I promise, a pretty girl like you could tell me all her problems,” he smirked and leaned a bit closer to you. He clearly didn’t understand your dismissive attitude.

Some of his friends looked over, one of them whispering something to the other, glancing over at the two of you.

"I'm stuck in an arrangement with someone and I just wanted to enjoy the single life a little longer."

The man nodded with a hum, listening intently. “Arrangement, huh? Sounds like a shitty deal, being tied down to someone you don’t really wanna be with.”

He paused for a moment. “Who’s this person that has you tied down, if you don’t mind me asking?” He gave you a smirk. “Some rich old geezer?”

"Some asshole named Toji Fushiguro." You answered bluntly.

The man’s eyes widened slightly at hearing the name. “Toji Fushiguro, huh?” he repeated. “And he’s your husband now? Must not be that great of a guy if you’re drinking away your troubles.”

His eyes darted over to his friends at another table, who were watching carefully. They both seemed to be whispering and nodding to each other while glancing over occasionally.

"He's such a pain in the ass. I SWEAR." You continued to shit talk him, not acknowledging Toji's presence behind you. You then noticed the man you're talking to go pale.

"What?" You said to him

The man quickly looked behind you, seeing Toji now standing behind you. He paled and quickly averted his gaze, looking back at you.

“E-er, no reason.”

By now, Toji was clearly pissed off. He had been standing there for a while listening to you talking about how annoying he was and his hand was clenched into a fist.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say he's just an asshole." You laughed still not knowing he's behind you.

The man in front of you laughed along with your statement, but it was a clearly nervous laugh.

Toji had enough of listening to you talk badly about him. He reached over and put his hand on your shoulder, grip tight as he leaned down over your shoulder.

“Don’t you think that’s a little rude, wife? Calling your husband an ‘asshole’.”

"OH—" You yelled out and fell from your seat. You felt your heart beating out your chest.

Toji caught you before you could actually fall to the ground. He chuckled at you, an arrogant grin over his face as he held you against his chest. One of his hands was gripping your waist to keep you up while the other held your shoulder.

The man in front of you looked at the two of you, clearly startled and intimidated now that Toji had appeared.

"JESUS." You yelled out,

"Thanks for the heart attack—"

Toji smirked at your words and pulled you closer to him. He wasn’t gonna let you keep bad mouthing him to other people.

“Sorry, princess. But you really should watch what you say.”

He nodded his head to the man you were talking to, who was now just staring at the two of you. “You shouldn’t talk about your husband l like that in public, right?”

"You don't even like me, why do you even CARE?" You raised your brow to him.

“Care?” Toji laughed at that, pulling you a little closer to him as he spoke.

“Just because I don’t like you doesn’t mean you can go around bad mouthing me, darling.”

He put a hand on your cheek, eyes looking down at you with a mocking gaze.

“I’m your husband, now. And I have a reputation. So you better keep that pretty little mouth of yours from calling me an ‘asshole’ again in public.”

"If I don't?" Your arms were crossed still waiting for some type of result.

Toji’s smirk only widened at your question. He leaned down more near your ear, hand still grabbing your cheek as he spoke lowly.

“Try me, wife.” His tone darkened, a hint of a warning in his voice. “Go on. Call me an ‘asshhole’ again.”

You leaned in closer to him and doubled down on that promise.

"Ass..hole." you said as a sly remark.

Toji’s grip on your waist and cheek only tightened at your words. His eyes darkened and he let out a scoff.

”Oh, you’re really pushing my buttons, you know that?”

His voice was low, almost a growl. His lips were near your ear and his hand on your cheek moved to grip your chin, forcing your head up to look at him. You glare at him, and all he had was that a shit eating smirk on his face. The way you wanted to humble this man was atrocious. Before you could say or do anything he threw you over his shoulder and just stared at the man you were just chatting with.

You were kicking and yelling at him to let you go. You then notice as he started working, he was walking towards a bathroom.

The man just stood there as Toji picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. He was a bit in shock, watching as Toji began to walk towards the bathrooms.

You continued to kick and yell at him, attempting to get away from him, but he just held you firmly.

He pushed open one of the bathroom doors and walked into it before kicking it shut behind him, locking the door for privacy.

"What the hell are you—" your sentence stopped as his lips violently crashed into yours. You were in for a shock.

His lips were rough, pressing against yours with force as he grabbed you tightly. The suddenness of the kiss completely caught you off guard, and his grip on you showed he wasn’t letting up.

He pushed you up against a wall, pinning you, and his lips only pressed harder into you.

You tried desperately to pull back, but you felt him bringing you back.

He only continued to press you against the wall, pinning you with his body. His hands gripped your hips and held you tightly, not letting you get away.

The kiss was rough and aggressive, his lips pressed hard against yours, tongue forcing its way into your mouth and claiming it.

The more you pulled back, the more rough he got, eventually you just let it happened. He groaned against your lips when he felt you stop resisting, his tongue claiming your mouth still. His grip on your hips got tighter, body pressing against yours as he began pushing his thigh in between your legs.

It felt like one second you were clothed, the naked you were bent over in the stalls. You could feel his length and girth slowly going inside you. He groaned and growled as he bottomed out into you.

"Fuck.." he groaned to you.

Toji’s thrusts were slow, but packed a forceful thrust. Your moans  and skapping skin were echoing the bathroom, he had a firm grasps of your hips as he just watch your ass jiggle for minutes.

"What's the matter, wife?" He asked you as he pounded deeper into you. "You're awfully quiet, no shit talking?"

The faster we went, the more he got to see your ass jiggle. At this part you were like putty to him. You watched as he switched positions and you felt like you were going to explode. Toji groaned loudly as he unloaded inside you. You felt his  warm seed inside of you, you were speechless.

Time had passed, and you were the first to come out the bathroom, your clothes a bit messy, but you basically got yourself prepped and ready.

Toji followed after you shortly, his clothes also a bit messy, but he looked relatively collected. He ran a hand through his messy hair and watched you.

“You know,” he said, his voice a bit low. “You’re a lot more fun when you lose the attutde, wife.”

"Shut up." Was all you could muster, but also couldn't help but feel your cheeks heating up.

Toji chuckled at your response, a smirk over his face. “You’re still so feisty though. You never give in, do you?”

He stepped closer to you, putting an arm around your waist and pulling you against him. He leaned down close to your ear, his voice a low whisper. “But I do like that cute little flustered look on your face.”

All you could do was groan in embarrassment, as he laughed it off and took you home.

TAGLIST: @ryomens-vixen @littlemochabunni @blkkizzat @buttercupblu @lowkeyremi

[cheesecakethots]

geto having a cute little non-sorcerer wife that he swears he hates.

he only marries you for your father’s riches, and so when you arrive on his doorstep he leaves the maids to tell you where you’ll be staying; the room furthest from his own.

you’ve been instructed not to so much as look at him, but he finds that he hardly sees you, anyway. you’re more like a ghost that haunts the manor than his wife.

most of the time he’ll happen to pass you sat alone in the garden, dressed in pretty kimonos that have most definitely been suited to his tastes. he hardly speaks to you, the only time he has was when the two of you had accidentally bumped into each other when turning a corner.

“watch it, monkey,” he had hissed, before continuing on with his day. he later found himself thinking on the nervous expression and faint embarrassed blush that had adorned your face. he had been tempted to smash his head against the wall to rid himself of the memory, as it plagued him the entire evening.

your father starts visiting and he has the basic decency to at least pretend as though he loves you. it results in awkward proximity and unloving kisses to your forehead, at least until your father leaves.

for some time, geto’s not entirely sure as to why you play along. you could go to your father and ask to leave this loveless marriage, could you not? then it dawns on him; your father doesn’t care, and you already know that. geto doesn’t like how a tiny part of his chest aches when he thinks too hard about that fact.

it’s not as though he leaves you locked up in some basement, withering away. you’re allowed to explore most of the manor, most of your needs can be met by asking the maids and very rarely he will permit you to visit the nearby town marketplace with some guards.

he starts seeing you more. he’ll sometimes find himself out in the garden, pretending that he has any business outside other than to keep an eye on you. he’ll never admit it, but it can sometimes calm him down, just watching you go about your day. to him it’s like watching a pet trot about, not realising their owner is watching with keen eyes. you’re still just a useless monkey, of course.

one day he discovers you crying in the garden you love so much. he’s never seen you cry before, hell, he’s hardly seen any emotions on you.

“what happened?” he finds himself asking before he can stop. you jump in your seat, not having expected him to be beside you.

“nothing, really,” you say, your voice still shaky and your hand wiping away at drying tears, “i’m sorry to have bothered you.”

he frowns, his patience quickly wearing thin. “tell me, now. what happened?”

you sigh, and some part of him can’t help but note how pretty your eyes look, despite the redness around them. he pushes the thought out before it can properly settle.

“my father sent me a letter,” you confess. “he’s… not happy with me.”

he steps closer to you. “why?”

you hesitate, your mouth opening and closing, but the expression he wears has you telling the truth.

“he wishes that i was pregnant with your child. i have told him that i am not, and never will be, and he… well, he’s not happy.”

suguru raises an eyebrow. “never will be… ?”

you blush, looking to the floor. “i know that you hate me. it may be easier for you to have a child with another.”

he scoffs.

“i don’t-“ geto pauses himself. “do you really think i’m the type of man to have a bastard with some whore?”

“w-well, no, but-“

“do you wish to stay married to me?”

you gulp. “no. i don’t.”

he pauses for a moment, seemingly considering something.

“if you give me a child, i’ll allow you to leave. you’ll still be married to me in name, but you won’t have to stay here, and you won’t be tethered to your father.”

your jaw drops for a moment, and then you collect yourself. “will i be able to see the child after i give birth?”

“sometimes,” he tells you. in reality, he doubt he’d ever let you near them, but you don’t need to know that.

“… okay.”

he finds it harder to convince himself that he hates everything about you when he has you beneath him, your ankles on his broad shoulders and your hands pressing against his back. he can’t help but fuck you even faster when hearing you whine and mewl. he wants to lick the expression you have off of your face, but refuses to indulge in the idea.

“su-su-suguru!” you cry. he stills inside you for just a moment. it’s the first time he’s ever heard you say his name. he was beginning to think you had forgotten it.

he grabs onto your wrists with one hand, pressing them above your head and manhandling you into another position, one in which he can somehow go even deeper than before.

he chuckles, low and raspy, “stupid fucking monkey…”

he’s starting to wonder if maybe he needs two kids. maybe four? hm. maybe you do have your usefulness. maybe he shouldn’t let you go, after all.

[pedrospatch]

Just Friends

Javier Peña x DEA Agent Female Reader

Part 2

Summary: You’re planning to have sex for the first time and you’re nervous—Javi offers to show you a thing or two, but just as friends of course.

Warnings/Tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. reader is in late 20’s; reader is an agent for the DEA; established friendship, idiots in love lust, overprotective/slightly jealous Javi; Javi is his canon manwhore self, reader is a virgin, talks of virginity loss and her desire for no strings attached sex, a bit of pining and yearning, lots of pet names, a couple insults, friendship fluff; touching, groping, dry humping, reader gets off, Javi does not. I know, I know. I will make it up to him in part dos. this does not follow the timeline of the show accurately, Messina is in the picture, Connie is still around. reader is bilingual, no descriptions of her race or ethnicity mentioned though. *translations at the end.

Word Count: 7.9k

A/N: This took me forever to edit and post because I’m scared lmao.

thank you to @cutesyscreenname for encouraging me to write this idea. I owe you cherry gansitos!

You observed your own reflection in the full length mirror in front of you and let out a curious little hum as you lifted the short, scarlet red minidress, holding it right up against the length of your body. You then held up the second dress that you had clutched in your opposite hand, a stunning, satin black midi number whose length was a lot longer than the first option, the hem of it falling down to your calves.

It appeared rather innocent, modest enough while it was still on the plastic hanger, but it fit you beautifully, just like a fucking glove. The bodice of the garment cinched at your waist and it was tightly fitted, hugging the curves of your upper body so closely that it looked and even felt like something of a second skin whenever you wore it. The billowy skirt of the dress flowed out around you, darling and sweet at first glance, however it came with a borderline dangerous slit in the side of it that stopped about two or three inches above the middle of your thigh near the hinge of your hip. It exposed the entire length of your leg whenever you walked, danced, or moved around in it—Murphy had once referred to it as the infamous femme fatale dress, telling you that it was a far, far more dangerous weapon than your gun could ever be. 

You were fairly certain his remarks had something to do with the fact that you’d worn the dress on a number of different occasions while you were out on the job, going undercover in Bogotá for the US Drug Enforcement Administration. 

As the only female agent on her team in Colombia and a younger, very beautiful female agent at that, Messina found herself using you to her advantage quite often these days. She would send you out all over Bogotá in that very same black dress with the hope that it would aid you in luring in members of the Medellín drug cartel in efforts to capture their leader, Pablo Escobar.

Tonight, however, you weren’t going undercover.

You were doing something much more frightening than mingling among some of Colombia’s most dangerous men. 

Far, far more daunting than that.

You were going out on a date. 

“I like the red dress the best,” Javier’s deep voice came from behind you, startling you slightly. He had mentioned to you earlier that day that he was going to some lounge with Murphy for a smoke and some drinks after work hours since it had been a long, draining week for him at the office; Messina had stuck him with an endless amount of tedious paperwork to do and it had just about driven him insane, but nothing a pack of cigarettes and some bourbon couldn’t fix. With the soft, Latin cumbias playing from the old stereo perched on top of the white oak dresser beside you, you had completely missed the sound of the front door opening and closing when he’d gotten home.

You glanced over your shoulder to see him standing there in the open doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. Javier’s dark brown eyes were fixed intently on you, a small, devilish smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he casually leaned up against the door frame of your bedroom. Well, technically, it was actually the guest bedroom of his apartment unit that he’d let you take over several months ago. The housing department of the agency had placed you into a unit in the building across the street from his, right next door to Murphy and his wife, Connie. It had been a special arrangement requested by your diligent supervisor in an effort to make sure that no one found themselves in a compromising situation—she trusted you enough not to get any dumb ideas, but she didn’t trust Peña as far as she could throw him. It wasn’t very far.

While it had certainly been quite nice, and even kind of comforting at times to have Steve and Connie as your neighbors, you’d expressed to Javier one night over dinner at his place that you weren’t all too fond of having to live alone. Without an ounce of hesitation on his part, Javi offered to have you move into his spare bedroom that very same evening after you were both done eating, but only on the condition that Messina didn’t find out about the new living arrangement. She would wring Javier’s neck with her bare hands if knew that you two had been sharing his apartment this entire time. 

Hell, she would wring yours too. And you were the favorite child of sorts. Less annoying than Murphy and certainly a lot less problematic than Peña. 

She only liked you because she never had to worry about you. On or off the job.

But even though you were Messina’s number one, her star player, that would do absolutely nothing to spare you from her wrath if she ever came to find out that you were living with Javier Peña. She wasn’t a fan of just how close the two of you had become over the last several months; she’d told you herself that she much preferred it if you kept your distance from him while you were off duty. One wrong move on your part or Javi’s and it was game fucking over. Messina wouldn’t hesitate to send one of your asses packing, back home to be assigned somewhere else, somewhere far away from the other.

Pursing your lips together lightly, you turned your attention back over to the mirror. Raising an eyebrow, you lifted the red minidress up against your body once more to get another good look at it, as if you hadn’t just been staring at it for the last five minutes before he’d appeared. “I don’t know, Javi. I don’t like this one all that much to be honest. I’m not even sure why the hell I let Connie talk me into buying it in the first place. She said it was cute,” You remarked, tilting your head slightly to the side. You wrinkled your nose at the diamond cut out design in the sides of it. Whoever designed it must have not had enough money to spring for more a teensy bit more fabric. “But it’s kind of tacky. And it makes me look like a whore.”

“Mm yes, but a very beautiful whore,” Javi stated, his smirk widening as he drank in the gorgeous sight of you before him. He licked his lips, openly admiring the way you were clad in nothing but one of his shirts, his pink button up with short sleeves that you had once told him you loved so much because it was your favorite color; you’d sneakily stolen it out of his closet on laundry day a couple weeks back while all of your clothes had been in the washing machine and had never given it back to him. Not that Javier even really wanted it back at this point—his shirt looked a million times better on you than ever it did on him. Seeing you in it did inexplicable things to him and he fucking loved it when you padded around your now shared apartment in nothing but a pair of panties and his pink shirt. He took another glimpse at you, nearly foaming at the mouth at how it fit your frame, how the hem of it fell to the tops of your smooth thighs, the material hardly doing anything to cover up the tantalizing curves of your hips and your perfect ass. “Hermosura. The most beautiful whore in all of Colombia.”

You narrowed your eyes at him through the mirror, wishing you had a free hand you could flip him off with. “Gee, thanks for the compliment, Peña. You are always such a fucking charmer, aren’t you?”

“Oh, come on. Solo es una bromita, muñeca. No tienes por qué ofenderte. I’m just messing around with you. You know I don’t think you actually look like a whore—and trust me, I know what a whore looks like,” he responded with a deep and hearty laugh. He uncrossed his arms, allowing them to fall down to his sides as he pushed himself away from the door frame. He sauntered his way further into your bedroom, uninvited. “I’m being serious about the dress, though. Go with the red one. El vestido rojo. It’s perfect. Besides, that color would look gorgeous on you, cariño. I bet it would look almost as good on you as pink does.” He laughed again as he added, “Nice shirt, by the way.”

Your annoyed expression immediately softened into one of guilt. “I’ve been meaning to give you your shirt back,” You told him, sheepishly. “Te lo juro, Javi.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you have,” Javier snorted, waving off the little white lie. He finally forced himself to tear his attention away from you and glanced around, observing the current state of your room instead. It looked like a tornado had hit the inside of your closet; dresses, jackets, and high heeled shoes were strewn all over the place. He wasn’t all too surprised by the mess. He knew you like he knew the back of his own hand by now, and this was typical of you when you were searching for the perfect outfit to wear on a free night out in the city. “I don’t remember you telling me you had any plans tonight, bonita. What’s the occasion? Going out for drinks with the chismosas of the office? Or are you going out for a girl’s night with Connie?”

You momentarily hesitated.

“Actually, I have a date.”

Through the mirror, you saw the smile fade from Javier’s face almost instantly.

Here we go, You thought inwardly to yourself.

“You have a date? With who?” he demanded. 

Reluctantly, you turned around to face him. “You know Valeria, don’t you?”

The color drained from his face.

“That’s the translator who works up on the third floor, right?” He touched his hand to the back of his neck, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know her, but I’ve seen her around a couple of times.”

You almost laughed at the manner in which Javier tried playing dumb. 

Of course he knew Valeria. 

He had fucked her three weeks ago.

Javi had tried to keep it on the down low, but loud mouthed Valeria would brag to anyone who would listen all about how Agent Peña had fucked her in her office one evening while they’d been working late together and everyone else had gone home. Not that Javier even needed her services as a translator, he’d just needed an excuse to find himself in her office after hours so he could get his dick wet.

For some strange reason, you felt oddly fucking generous and decided to let Javier have this one, playing along with him and his sheer stupidity. “Yeah, her. She has an older brother who’s visiting the city for a few days. His name is Diego. He’s an immigration attorney who is here on business in Bogotá. She offered to set me up with him,” You explained, keeping everything as brief as possible. “I’m meeting him for drinks tonight.”

Javier frowned. “Have you met him in person?”

“Well no, but Valeria showed me his picture and she told me all about him. It’s not like he’s just some random ass guy I met on the street, Javi. He’s her brother, she advocated for him,” You tried to reason with him, knowing all too well where this conversation was heading. Sure, it was nice to know that Javier cared about you enough to be concerned about you meeting up with someone who was essentially a complete stranger, but it wasn’t like you couldn’t handle yourself. You’d spent many evenings sitting right in the laps of the violent criminals who worked for Escobar—a blind date with a coworker’s brother was nothing for him to make a fuss over. “I really don’t think that I have anything to worry about with him.”

He rigidly shook his head. “Look, no offense to Valeria, but I don’t like the idea of you running around this city at night with some fucking prick that you’ve never even met before. And before you throw all that undercover bullshit at me, just know that it’s not the same thing. You aren’t going out on the job tonight. You’re not going out with your team on standby to watch your back, you’re not going out with me and Murphy armed and ready to jump into action if things head south. What if something happens to you?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes at the complete and utter ridiculousness of his drama king antics. “Oh, give me a fucking break, Peña. Diego’s not a member of the fucking cartel, he’s a lawyer. And besides that, you’re acting like I can’t take care of myself.”

“Listen, I know damn good and well that you can take care of yourself just fine, muñeca. But still, that doesn’t make me feel any better about this whole arrangement.” Javier’s hands went to his waist and he let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head once again. “I’m going to need to meet this guy before you go out with him. I don’t care whose fucking brother he is—whichever way you try to spin it, the bottom line is that he’s a still a fucking stranger and I want to check him out for myself before I let you go out with him.” He saw the mischievous twinkle in your eyes and peered at you suspiciously. “Please tell me he’s coming to pick you up here at the apartment.”

You laughed. “Of course not, Javi. I’m not stupid. I already knew you would behave like this. I knew you would go straight into overprotective mode, just like you always do. I didn’t want you scaring him off, so I’m taking a taxi cab and we’re meeting up at the bar instead.” You easily clocked the all too familiar glint in his eye and smiled sweetly at him. “And don’t even think about trying to guess which one it is so that you can show up and keep tabs on me the whole night. There are thousands of bars in this damn city and I can promise you that you’re not smart enough to figure out which one we’re going to, Agent Peña.”

Annoyed by the smugness in your tone and the way it was starting to get under his skin, Javier’s lips pressed into a thin, tight line. He watched you walk over to your closet, subtly swaying your hips to the music as you pulled out yet another dress to add to your rapidly growing list of options.

He could feel the envy prickling at each and every last single nerve ending in his entire body, his frustrations stewing at the mere thought of you going out with another man. His jaw clenched and he forced himself to shove the feeling down knowing damn well that he didn’t have the right to be jealous. Not when you two weren’t anything more than just friends.

If you’d just been a coworker, it would be different. 

Javier would gladly, happily, risk mixing business with pleasure as he had so often done in the past with several secretaries—and a translator or two—in his time. But no matter how hard he’d tried over and over again to place you into that box, into that category, he simply couldn’t bring himself to do it.

You weren’t just his coworker, you were his friend.

His best friend.

For as much shit as he gave you, you mattered to him. You were important to him, way too important to ever risk fucking up your friendship by fucking you. 

Still. Javier would be lying if he said he didn’t think about it. He thought about it all the damn time. When he discovered that fucking himself into the palm of his hand and moaning your name quietly over and over again under his breath didn’t quite do the job for him anymore, he would find himself standing outside of your bedroom prepared to say fuck it all and make his move on you. But then it happened every single fucking time without fail—as soon as he lifted his curled fist to knock on your door, he started to remember things. 

He’d remember the way you could so easily make him laugh with your clever and quick witted sense of humor. He remembered all those late nights you two would spend together lounging on his brown leather couch in your pajamas watching old, poorly made slasher films while indulging in the greasiest, unhealthiest takeout Bogotá had to offer. He remembered how you could read him just like a fucking magazine, how you always knew when something was wrong—and how you would always somehow know exactly what to say and do to comfort him whenever he needed it the most.

He would remember how you’d come to feel like his home away from home. 

And then he would drop his hand right back down to his side, whirl around on his heel, and march straight back into his bedroom where he had little choice but to go back to fantasizing about what could never be between you and him.

Snapping himself out of his own train of thought, Javier carefully stepped over the mountains of clothing and shoes on the floor and made his way over to another pile of dresses that were draped over the foot of your bed. He caught a glimpse of the lingerie set on top of them, brand new with the price tag still attached to the fabric; the set was black, made of delicate, see through lace that would leave very little to the imagination when you put it on. He picked up the thong, hooking the thin elastic of it around his index finger. “Something tells me that you’re not planning on coming back home tonight.”

“What are you talking about?” Confused, you turned around and gasped, dropping the dresses in your hands. “Javier!”

“Are these even going to cover anything up?” he teased you with a laugh, his eyes gleaming with pure amusement as they darted between the thong and the lower half of your body. “Falta mucha tela, cariño.”

You rushed up to him and made a dive for the underwear. “Give me those!”

“How come you don’t ever wear anything like this around the apartment, hermosa?” Javi dangled them above your head and out of your reach. “All I ever get to see you in are those cotton panties, the ones with polka dots on them.” He glanced down, getting an eyeful of you and the aforementioned polka dot panties. “Kind of like the ones you’re wearing now—”

“Javier, cut it out!” You placed a hand on his shoulder as the other continued grabbing for the lingerie. “Come on, stop being such a fucking asshole!”

Although he could have easily enjoyed taunting you for hours and hours on end, Javier knew you wouldn’t hesitate to have your knee meet his balls. Not wanting to risk ending up on your floor curled up in pain, he eased up and handed them over to you. 

“Idiota!” You hissed at him, furiously snatching the underwear out of his hand. You stomped over to your dresser and shoved them into the middle drawer, slamming it closed so hard the old stereo nearly went crashing to the floor. “You can be a real fucking douchebag, Peña.”

Javier wasn’t bothered by the insults; he’d grown used to those—however any trace of playfulness vanished as the reality began to set in for him. The reality of you sleeping with another a man tonight. “Wait a minute, are you really planning to fuck the guy?” He didn’t even make the attempt to mask the disappointment that laced his tone. “I mean, you haven’t even met him yet. I didn’t think you were that kind of girl, querida.”

“You sound awful judgmental for someone who brings home a different escort every other fucking week,” You snapped at him, placing your hands on your hips. “Oh, and speaking of escorts, I had the pleasure of meeting Alessandra in the bathroom this morning. She asked if I had a tank top that she could borrow since apparently you got too eager and ripped her shirt off last night.” You tilted your head, squinting at him as he started shuffling uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “If you happen to go back to her for a second round, tell her that I want it back. Washed.”

Javier grimaced, looking down at the floor. “Shit. I thought she would be gone by the time you woke up,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “Lo siento, bonita. I’m sorry.”

You blinked. “Sorry for what?”

He opened his mouth, then clamped it shut.

Javier wasn’t all too sure, actually.

He didn’t have anything to apologize for, not really.

He was a single man who could do as, and who, he pleased.

Yet he still felt like a pile of dog shit knowing you’d encountered Alessandra while he had still been asleep.

You would never admit it, but Javier knew that to some extent, it hurt you to run into the women he would bring home. As if having to hear him railing them on the other side of your bedroom wall for hours wasn’t bad enough, having to meet them the following morning and seeing them half naked with their smeared makeup and disheveled hair from the previous night’s activities only made it so much fucking worse. 

Having read his mind, you sighed and offered him some reassurance. “It’s fine, Javi. We both know that you don’t have anything to be sorry for,” You said, prompting him to look back up at you. You pointed a finger at him. “I do want my shirt back, though. And then maybe I’ll be nice and give you back yours.” 

You expected Javi to scamper off to his room with his tail between his legs in shame. It was what he usually did—he’d avoid you for about a few hours until the dust settled, and then everything would go back to normal. Instead of running off, he stood there and spoke again. 

“Are you really going to have sex with this guy?”

You tried to ignore how disheartened he sounded.

“I don’t know,” You confessed, quietly. “I want to have sex with him, but I don’t know if I’ll actually have the fucking balls to go through with it.”

“Por qué? Estas nerviosa?”

Though Javier hadn’t been poking fun at you, you couldn’t help but feel irritated with him for asking you if you were nervous; because you actually were nervous, and him asking you only made you even more fucking nervous. “And so what if I am a little nervous?” You challenged him, lightly. “Sorry that we’re not all just confidently fucking our way through this city like you are, Peña.”

“When’s the last time you had sex, anyway?”

“None of your fucking business, that’s when,” You quipped.

“That’s not fair.” Javi pouted at you. “You know when the last time I had sex was.”

“Not by choice,” You retorted. “You’re right on the other side of my paper thin wall and I left my Walkman in the office.”

Javi waited expectantly for an answer. He wasn’t going to drop the subject, and you knew that.

“You’re such a stubborn son of a bitch, you know that?” You muttered. Feeling a burning heat flood to your face, you decided to give him just about the most generic answer there was in order to get him off your back. “It was a long, long time ago.”

“Okay, but how long ago?” He pressed, curiously. “Are we talking weeks? Months?”

Your stomach began to churn violently, the hidden secret you’d kept to yourself for your entire adult life now at risk of being exposed. 

“I-I really don’t remember,” You stammered out in response, averting your gaze away from his. “Can we not talk about my sex life, please? Besides, it’s getting late and I still need to take a shower and get ready for my date tonight. So if you would just kindly fuck all the way off, that would be great.”

Javier took a step back and there was a very brief moment where you had been certain you’d just narrowly avoided what could have been a painful, humiliating conversation. However, just as he was about to turn to leave, Javi’s eyes widened as it slowly clicked into place for him. 

“Wait a minute—are you fucking serious?”

You groaned. “Javier, please don’t. For the sake of what’s left of my sanity, please don’t,” You nearly pleaded him, wishing that a large, Twilight Zone style swirling vortex would open up in the middle of your floor and swallow you whole. 

“You’ve never had sex before,” he realized. “Have you?”

Your face felt like it had caught on fire.

Not knowing what to say or even do, you clasped your hands together and wrung them anxiously in front of you. 

Of all the people to find out your secret, it just had to be Peña.

“Cariño, are you really a virgin?”

Surprised, you looked up at him. 

Javi wasn’t teasing you or being a dick about it.

He seemed genuinely perplexed by the fact that you’d never had sex before. Not that it made it any less mortifying.

“Yes,” You admitted, exhaling the breath that you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding in. “I’m a virgin, alright? There, are you satisfied?”

“But how? Going undercover? And informants—”

Despite the circumstances, you couldn’t help but laugh. “I know this might come as a shock to you, but you don’t always have to fuck your informants to get what you need out of them, Peña. It’s not a requirement. I use my brains, not my body.” 

“You’re shaming me for using my body?” he joked lightly, hoping it would further ease the awkward nature of the conversation—for your sake, not his.

“Just a little bit.” You offered him a small, crooked smile and felt your tense shoulders finally begin to relax. “You’re probably going to think it’s stupid or maybe even crazy, but the truth is that I’ve always wanted to wait and give it to the right man. Maybe even to a man that I’m in love with. But with the way my romantic life has been going, it just seems like that’s never going to happen for me.” You shrugged. “I just want to lose it already, Javi. I’m almost in my fucking thirties—either I lose it now, or I may as well throw in the damn towel and join a convent.”

“You would look kind of cute in a nun’s habit,” Javi mused, thoughtfully.

You shot him a glare, but felt the corners of your mouth threatening to turn up into another smile. 

After a long minute, Javier broke the silence that had fallen over the both of you. “So then, Valeria’s older brother is the man you’re going to lose your virginity to? Tonight?”

“That’s the plan. He’s only here until the end of the week. It’d be no strings attached, so it works out perfectly.” You anxiously chewed on the inside of your cheek. “But only if I can find the courage to actually go through with it.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Not knowing what to do.”

Javier quirked an eyebrow.  “It’s not exactly rocket science, querida.”

You resisted the sudden urge to go up to him and backhand the stupid smirk right off of his face.

“Could you please just take me seriously for one second, Peña?” You huffed out in frustration. “I’m just really fucking nervous about it, alright? What if I can’t—what if I’m not good at it?”

Javi’s bottom lip rolled between his teeth and he stifled his laughter. “Preciosa, you’re being kind of…” He trailed off, trying to choose his next word carefully.

You lifted your chin. “Kind of what?”

“Ridiculous. And before you come over here and start pummeling me to death with those little fists of yours...” He stopped and held up his hands in defense. He took a second or two to let eyes glaze over you from head to toe. “I’m only saying that because you’re fucking gorgeous, muñequita. Any man would be lucky to have a night with you. You have nothing to be afraid of.”

“It’s not about how I look, Javier. It’s about how I perform.” You felt your face grow hot for what had to be the umpteenth time in the last ten minutes. Never did you think this would be a conversation you’d be having with him of all fucking people. “I listen to the way those women you bring home—I hear what they do to you. And I hear how much you like it.”

His lips parted slightly. “And you want to do that to him?”

“I want to make him feel good.”

Javier’s jealously simmered in his veins. But what could he do?

Nothing, that’s what. Just like him, you could do as, and who, you pleased. But if he could just get his hands on you first, at least to some extent, it would help ease the blow. He saw nothing wrong with blurring the lines, so long as he didn’t cross them.

Javi hummed. “If you really want to know how to make a man feel good, I can help you.”

“You can help me?” You repeated. “How?”

“By showing you a thing or two.”

You let out something mixed between a scoff and a laugh.

“I am not having sex with you, Peña.”

He tossed you an innocent look. “That’s not what I was suggesting at all.” He crossed the bedroom and walked over to you, reaching for your hands. He took them in his own and then started pulling you towards your bed. “If you’re really that worried about not knowing what to do, I can give you a few pointers. And calmada, querida. Our clothes stay on,” he reassured you before you could open your mouth to protest. “Just think of it as a friend helping out a friend. There’s nothing wrong with that, right?”

You chewed on your lower lip. “I don’t know about this, Javi.”

Javier’s thumbs softly smoothed across the back of your hands. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Right now, I’m not so sure that I do.” You paused long enough for him to throw you an exasperated, almost offended look. You rolled your eyes at him and nodded your head. “Yes, of course I trust you, Peña. I trust you with my fucking life. Literally, I put my life in your hands at least once or twice a week.”

“Then let me help you, hermosa.”

You inhaled a deep breath, held it for a moment, then exhaled it softly. “Fine. But remember, our clothes stay on—” You were cut off, all the air leaving your lungs as Javi yanked you forward, slamming you against his chest. You looked up at him, ready to give him a piece of your mind for knocking the wind out of you, but as his eyes met yours, words failed you and all you could do was stare at him like a deer caught in the headlights. 

This could not possibly end well.

And yet here you were, going along with it.

He snaked an arm around your waist, holding your body flush against his. Feeling how tense you had become, stiff as a fucking board, Javi gave you a light shake in an effort to get you to loosen up a bit. “First thing is first, you need to relax. There’s no need to overthink this, cariño. Especially not with me.” He reached up with his opposite hand, letting his index finger feather along your jawline. He then slipped it underneath your chin, lifting it ever so slightly and forcing you to look right into his rich pools of espresso. “I mean it. It really wouldn’t take much for a beautiful girl like you to drive me—I mean, drive him wild.”

You tried your hardest to keep your voice from trembling, but between his touch and being in such close proximity, you were finding it a hell of a lot more difficult than you’d imagined. “Show me, Peña. What drives you—I mean, what’s going to drive him wild?”

“Well, it always starts with the right kiss.”

You quickly shook your head. “Javi—”

“Kiss me.”

Had he lost his fucking mind?

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” You echoed your thoughts

“Just a friend helping out a friend,” Javi reminded you in a murmur. “Remember?”

You should have said no. You should have decked him for even suggesting such a thing.

Instead, you gave him a small nod. You rested your hands delicately on his hard, lean chest and tilted your head upwards, lightly pressing your lips to his for a split second before quickly pulling away.

“There.”

“That was fucking pathetic,” Javier laughed softly, his warm breath fanning over the tip of your nose. “You’re not kissing your abuela, you know.”

You smacked his chest. “Javi! Leave my grandma out of this.”

“You have to kiss a man like you actually want him, querida. Here, allow me to demonstrate.”

Your throat went dry as his grip around your waist tightened. He moved his other hand away from your chin and it went to the back of your neck, gingerly tilting your head up towards his. Your heart hammered almost painfully against your ribcage, beating way too hard and way too fast for him not to feel it against his own chest. You had to silently remind yourself to breathe as Javi inched his face closer to yours, slowly. You knew that he was doing it on purpose, moving an agonizingly glacial pace to allow your anticipation to build; all the while his dark eyes were staring deeply into the depths of your very fucking soul, causing a fire to set ablaze deep in your lower belly.

Your thighs clenched together involuntarily as the tip of his nose skimmed a spot near the corner of your mouth, his lips brushing the underside of your jawline.

God, he was fucking good. 

“Javi…” You uttered his name weakly.

You needed to stop this. Javier was your friend—friends didn’t do shit like this.

Javi sensed your reluctance. “It’s alright, mi vida,” he whispered, uttering an affectionate pet name that he’d never used before. He gave you a small grin as he moved in to finally close the small gap of space between your faces. His lips met yours and every ridiculous cliché of sparks flying and fireworks exploding occurred the moment they did. His tongue swept across your bottom lip, gently coaxing its way into your mouth to begin a slow, sensual dance with yours. Cupping the back of your neck, he tilted your head up a bit further, granting himself better access to your mouth so that he could fully explore it inch by inch. 

There was kissing other men.

And then there was kissing Javier. 

Whimpering, your body melted against his as he swelled your lips with a kiss that was slow and sensual, yet somehow still hungry and possessive at the same time. Javier’s hands travelled down to your hips, his fingers skimming the hem of his shirt that you wore. He took the opportunity to sneak them underneath the garment, allowing them to meet the warmth of your skin. 

Gasping, you jerked back and pulled away from him. 

“Javier!” You squeaked out his name breathlessly, furiously swatting his hands away from your sides. You glared at him. “I thought we agreed, our clothes fucking stay on!”

“Funny, I wasn’t aware that I was taking any of your clothes off.” Javier reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. He then took a step backwards and gestured towards your bed. “Lay down.”

Your mouth fell open at his request.

“W-what?” You sputtered out, your eyes wide. 

“You heard me. Get on the bed and lay down.”

Javi reached down, sweeping your pile of dresses off of the bed and onto the floor. 

“Why? What are you going to do?” You questioned him, shuffling anxiously from one bare foot to the other.

Javier rolled his eyes and let out a small, impatient sigh. “Just do it, hermosa. You can trust me.”

Swallowing harshly, you obeyed him and walked around to the side of your bed, taking a seat. You inhaled another deep breath before bringing your legs up and laying back, your head resting against your decorative pillows. You nervously tugged and pulled at the hem of his stolen pink shirt, trying to cover yourself up as best as you could as you laid there, sprawled out before him; however Javier had other plans. He climbed onto the bed after you, positioning his body so it hovered over yours. He nudged your legs apart with his knee, settling himself right in between your thighs. He grabbed one of your legs and hiked it up around his waist, putting the two of you in a very, very dangerous position. His fingers remained wrapped around your thigh, his touch burning right into your soft flesh as he held your leg in place around him. 

“Don’t be shy, muñequita.” His voice had gone low and husky. He trailed his hand further up your thigh.

He grinned, feeling satisfied with himself when he felt the goosebumps erupt across your skin.

“Shut up, I’m not shy,” You fibbed, prompting him to chuckle.

“Mentirosa.” Javi’s hand abandoned your leg and he brought his hand up to the side of your face to cradle your cheek in his palm. His thumb brushed across your bottom lip. 

“Kiss me,” he commanded, gently. “And this time, kiss me like you mean it.”

You reached up for him with trembling hands and grabbed two fistfuls of his pewter blue, button up shirt. You pulled him down towards you and lifted yourself up slightly off your pillows, crashing your mouth against his. You allowed yourself to finally release any fears that you might have had before and kissed him greedily and with fervor, as if it would be the very last time you’d ever get to kiss Javier Peña—because it very well could be the last time you would ever get to kiss Javier Peña.

You kissed him deeply, going on until your lungs began to burn—you only broke away from him once they started screaming, demanding oxygen. 

Tearing yourself apart from him, you released his shirt and dropped back down onto your pillows, breathlessly asking, “Better?”

“Oh, so much better. Good girl, mi muñequita linda,” he praised, grinning again as he caressed the silkiness of your cheek. He lowered his head and lips ghosted over yours for a moment before he moved them down your neck, feathering kisses to any exposed skin peeking out from underneath his shirt. His hand found your breast and he groaned realizing that you weren’t wearing a bra underneath it. He kneaded the perfect, soft mound of flesh through the thin fabric, rolling your hardened nipple between his fingers. He bucked his hips into yours, causing a loud moan to escape from your lips the second you felt his hardened cock through his tight, light blue jeans. He caught sight of the way you blushed at the sound that he’d elicited from you and his grin widened. “Noises like that? The louder the better. So don’t hold back, preciosa.”

“What else can I do to make you—to make him feel good?”

Javier dipped his face right into the hollow of your neck, thinking it over for a moment. “A woman who takes control can be very sexy. I like it—I bet he’ll like it if you get on top.”

“I think I can do that.” Biting your bottom lip, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him back, sliding yourself out from underneath him. You guided him to lay back onto your pillows and climbed on top of him, straddling his waist. 

Shit. Javier cursed inwardly.

Maybe he’d been in over his head with this idea.

He knew at some point he’d have to stop it from going too far—but would he be able to?

“How do you like it?” You asked him, shyly. This time, you hadn’t bothered to correct yourself. 

You didn’t want to know how to please another man.

You wanted to know how to please Javi.

Even if you’d never get the chance to do it.

“Depends on the mood,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders in the most nonchalant manner that he could muster under the circumstances—as if his cock wasn’t rock hard, straining against the zipper of his jeans and begging to be inside you.

“Te gusta despacito?” You start to rock your hips back and forth against his, slowly. “Do you like it slow?”

Javier’s breath hitched in the back his throat. At this point, there was no doubt about it—you could feel him underneath you, throbbing. “Sometimes,” he managed to choke out in reply. “Like I said. Just depends on the mood.”

“Or what about like this?” You grinned down at him, gaining a sense of confidence as you started to move faster on top of him, finding your perfect rhythm. You could see and clearly feel what you were doing to him. Knowing that you were having this kind of effect on Peña was nothing short of a fucking dream come true. 

His hands went to your hips, holding on as you picked up the pace, grinding your clothed core down against his bulge. 

You could feel your own arousal pooling between your legs, soaking your panties; you wouldn’t be surprised if you’d leave behind a wet spot on his jeans. “How am I doing?”

“Fucking amazing, muñeca,” he answered, earnestly. His long, thick fingers dug into your sides as he suggested, “It helps if you put on a little show while you’re up there, too.” He then pictured you in that sexy black lingerie set you’d bought; he imagined what it would be like to slip that tiny little thong to the side so you could freely ride his cock. The mere thought had him seeing stars.

“A show, huh?” You smirked and popped the top two buttons of your shirt—his shirt—exposing the smooth valley between your breasts to him. “I think I can do that too,” You giggled, pulling the fabric to the side, just enough to give him the tiniest glimpse of the soft curves of your chest but not enough to expose yourself completely. 

“Hermosa,” he couldn’t help but groan out. It took every ounce of strength he had inside him not to reach up and tear his shirt right off of you so he could see all of you. 

You grabbed his hands from your hips and slowly began guiding them all around your body. You started by placing them on your breasts, giving him permission to cop another feel before moving them slowly down the lengths of your sides and placing them on your bare thighs. From there, you picked up Javi’s hands once more and placed them behind you, allowing him to take two generous handfuls of your ass. Your hands then abandoned his and you placed them on his chest, supporting yourself as you continued to roll your hips against his, riding him through his jeans. You tossed your head back and closed your eyes; the friction of your clit against his pelvis even through all the clothes felt like absolute heaven, and you let out a lustful moan that bounced off of your bedroom walls as you continued to drive your hips harder against his own.

Realizing that this was no longer a lesson and you were actually pleasuring yourself, Javier groaned again. He moved his hands back to your hips and found himself bucking his own hips upwards to meet you halfway—he abandoned any and all worries about taking it too far. He wanted you to come. 

He needed to see you come.

“Javi,” You gasped his name, moaning again.

“That’s it, muñeca,” he rasped out. “Just like that, baby. Keep going. What a good girl, what a good fucking girl.”

Any and all common sense had been washed away by pleasure and by your need to reach that sweet, sweet release. 

It was so close. You felt him right there, right between your clothed folds, and all you could do was imagine what it would be like to have his cock fill you up and stretch you completely. 

His name began to slip from your lips, rolling off of your tongue over and over again with such ease.

Your movements fell in perfect sync with his.

You went down, he went up.

You pulled, he pushed.

No doubt about it, Javier was trying to get you off.

Somehow, you find a voice that speaks in between all your pitiful little pants. 

 “J-Javi, maybe we s-shouldn’t—”

Javier quickly sat up and wrapped one of his arms around your waist. He slammed your mouths together, silencing you mid sentence. He thrusted upwards, and you whined into his kiss, rubbing your clit against his bulge even harder. 

The beginning of your orgasm coiled up tightly in your belly, and you knew it would spring forward any second now.

“Javi, I’m so close—” 

“It’s okay, hermosa. Come for me,” he mumbled into your mouth.  “I’ve got you.”

Your arms found their way around his shoulders and you buried your face into his neck. Squeezing your eyes shut, your loud cries came out muffled against his collarbone as you unraveled, coming undone with one last cry of his name.

You slumped forward, resting your head on his shoulder as you fought to catch your breath, the pleasure still pulsing between your thighs.

Javier’s other arm curled around you and he said nothing as he held you. 

Once you’d finally started coming down from your high, your eyes flew open and a chill went up the length of your spine.

What had you two just done?

Still straddling his lap, you pulled back. “Javi—”

Without warning, Javier flipped you over so you were on your back underneath him once again. He hovered over you, his eyes meeting yours for just a moment before he dipped his head and captured your lips with his one final, deep and sensual kiss. 

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about tonight,” he murmured once he had pulled away. “You’re fucking perfect, mi vida.”

He touched the tip of his nose to yours before climbing off of you.

“I fucking hope this guy realizes what a lucky son of a bitch he is,” Javier said quietly before turning on the heel of his boot and walking out of your bedroom, leaving you laying there with your mouth parted open in complete shock.

Translations

Solo es una bromita, muñeca. No tienes por qué ofenderte. - It’s just a little joke, doll. No need to get offended.

El vestido rojo. - The red dress.

Te lo juro, Javi. - I swear to you, Javi.

Chismosas - Gossipers

Falta mucha tela, cariño. - There is a lot of fabric missing, darling.

Mentirosa. - Liar.

Te gusta despacito? - Do you like it a little slow? 

[inupibaldspot]

Even 12 years laters,your soul was in a color of kindness.

Pairing : Gojo Satoru x Reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : purely self indulgent which I wrote when I was drunk so— some stuffs are funky

Gojo first met you when you where four.

He was five years old at that time too and was being escorted by a maid to go to the clan head meeting; he assumes you were also part of a clan brought by elders.

Normally, the white haired boy never really cared for other people. Why should he? He is the chosen one. He has the limitless technique plus the six eyes of the Gojo clan. He was the closest thing to God at this age. But today it was different.

He watched you turn your head around and stare at him, he could vividly remember the way your eyes shone with amazement either for something as superficial like his white hair or the fact he was recognized as The ‘Gojo Satoru.’

But after that amazement, you smiled. You smiled at him so bright, with the evening glow of sunlights made you so—so ethereal. Your smile was childish and that’s why it was simply pure; the white haired kid’s eyes silhouetted with the sunlight shone with surprise for he found you beautiful in ways he couldn’t describe.

Gojo looks away— he beat himself for looking away as that made him look standoffish. When he looks back, you were staring at him confused for why he didn’t greet you back.

The maid beside you turns and says something, as you nod and then walk away. Was it weird for Gojo to wish you would simply turn to him and introduce yourself? For years to come, he prayed that he’d love to hear your name; for your soul was in a color of kindness.

That chance came in twelve years later when he was a second year of his Jujutsu Tech. Him and his friends, Geto and Shoko wanted to meet the new first years. There is Nanami Kento, had a huge stick up his ass but that it self made him to be forever victim to Gojo’s pranks. Next was Haibara Yū, a bright eyed kid but Gojo found him to be a bit too— energetic for his taste.

And then you. I didn’t really need to describe Nanami and Haibara first because the first and only person he saw ever since he entered the first year’s classroom was you. Simply you. You sitting on the chair smiling bashfully at them. At him.

Ever since, every day. Without fail would rush to your side. At first you were confused as that is not the Gojo you remembered l; the one you saw and described to you by others were not this.

Nevertheless it warmed you up like a cool evening sun.

Gojo released quite early was you were kind, the type that would help others despite of her time , the type who would help every elderly by the street, the type who would feed strays and yada-yada-flowers and rainbows.

But that led to another realization. Had you truly different been treated differently?

Gojo's body tensed up. Any comfortable vibe he had felt before vanishing in an instant. He had known very well that you were a kind-hearted human being. Welcoming and warm. That made you so interesting. Your soul was so calm and simple and nice.

And even though he had observed you so closely before he wasn't able to recall any moment anymore where your own feelings had been obvious. You didn't stutter around boys.

You didn't blush. You didn't hesitate in a way which could be trailed back to her personal feelings.

Were you treating him like everyone else after all?

“Gojo?”

Your voice brought him back to sense, you were blinking curious, leaned close—so close.”what’s wrong?”

“Bring out your hand.” He smiles, as you did without question. “Guess the word I’m writing on your hand.” He smiles when the warmth from your hand soothe his nervous heartbeat.

“Eh—I’m not good at kanji!”

“That’s just too bad—!”

From then when ever Gojo feels anxious of everything—everything in this world he would play this game, with your fingers and her palm because his focus on you was more gravitating rather than that as you were simply too calming.

Geto felt slightly hesitant when he saw the type of Gojo he would become when he was by your side, he was a tad abit careless as if all of his six eyes were simply focused on you, he would be a tad bit kinder to the point Nanami gets the ick.

Where as Shoko had a blast!

She would make way towards you, give kisses on your cheeks gushing on how cute you were, wrapping her arms around you as she then sends a condescending look towards Gojo who was literally drowning in jealousy.

Shoko and you got close early on and more so because you two were the only two girls in those years. To the point where even a shy person like you was influenced to sneaking into a party with Shoko.

“Please don’t mess with my hair curler, Gojo.” You say as you look into the mirror, fixing your earring and from the corner of your eyes you could see Gojo holding up a lick of his hair into the hot iron.

Gojo peers over and immediately regrets it, you were in a short dress and high heel, hair curled so—cutely and boy, your face.

He looks away.

No, too cute.

He thought as he lets down the curling iron. Shoko peers out as she lets out a puff of smoke before passing it to Geto, who takes the cigarette in his hands. “Don’t tell me you want to come Gojo.” Shoko says. “I want a girls night.”

Gojo remember almost comically crying into his pillows as Geto nags him on ‘how woman don’t like clingy guys.’ He decides to forget Shoko and join you guys anyways.

He remembers being strangled by Shoko while you him a nervous smile trying to diffuse the situation.

Your nervous smile which made the world freeze to him, Geto sighs at the love sick look his white haired friend was giving you, who seemed so obvious to.

But don’t you remember when I said you were kind. You were kind like to help the cornered kid, the type who would volunteer to be with the loner kid, the type that picked Geto Suguru’s side.

Gojo sighs when when remembers Shoko saying you said something along the lines of ‘I don’t want Geto to be lonely along the path he takes…’

How stupid!

Gojo Satoru where ever he went would go around town mentally keeping sense of any cursed energy which could relay you back to him.

He meets you again though.

12 years later, while him and now—principle Yaga were walking along the hallways they sense a breach in security. He rushes over to first, see his once best-friend Geto Suguru by his current first year Okkotsu Yuta and secondly, you. Your eyes we’re nervously flying around before it lands on him and once again he was yours; Geto scoffs at the sight of Gojo’s expression when he was looking at you. He was almost worried that if you said ‘let’s join Geto’ with a plea—se, he just might. You just had that effect on Gojo.

But too bad, Geto was here to request war upon the Jujutsu Tech. On the 24 December, Night Parade of a Hundred Demons.

Gojo rushes through curses as he makes his way towards you; and when he does, he feels as if he can’t breath. “Can you come back…?” He takes a step closer.

You smile nervously,shaking your head as you watch him take another step closer to you, you felt his hands reach out and cup your face. His face was so close to yours, you could feel the warmth radiate off him in the cold winter air. “Don’t kill me for doing this.” You we’re reminded that you guys were enemies and in a battlefield.

His face was closer now, his blue—beautiful blue eyes were slightly closed. You breath out. “I can’t kill you through your ‘Limitless’ Satoru…”

“Say it again.”

“Huh…?”

“My name. Satoru…”

You breath out. “Satoru…” The name you accidentally let out, felt so right.

“Fuck… say it a million time more, love.” Gojo laughs, slightly hoarse. “My limitless is never activated when I’m with you…”

before you realize his lips were on yours. The kiss was soft, as you hands were tentatively placed on his chest, as his hand trails along to your waist you parts your lips for him, sighs in his mouth, and that small sound of pleasure drives him crazy, floods his body with heat and desire so intense the strongest sorcerer can hardly stand.

Your are pulled away from him, when a darker and tall man goes by. “Miguel!” Gojo listened to you say.

“I need you to focus.” The man says smiling, before he takes a stance to fight Gojo. And to Miguel credit, he does fend off Gojo well, so— well that he was ‘recruited’ by him.

The day ends with Gojo losing two of his best friends in different ways. Geto would be gone, into the afterlife ended by his own hands.

But you?

Where were you? Would he meet you again 12 years later? Love?

[lilacgaby]

‧₊˚ running out of time,

to make you love me. ₊˚⊹ᡣ𐭩

THE PRINCE'S BALL was to be had on his 18th birthday. the week before, you realize the feelings you have harbored over the years for him. little did you know you were both fighting against the time restraint placed on him.

-☆pair. prince!katsuki x servant!reader. tags: fem!reader, cursing, romance, kissing, childhoodfriend!reader, insecurities, pet names(?), miscommunication trope, wingmen, angst to fluff. royal!au wc: 5k

-✩note. based off this drabble i did a long time ago.

“prince, please! just let me–” he shoved your hand that was moving to button up his shirt away, glaring at you. “no. i can do this by myself.”

he fumbled with the buttons, large hands trickly maneuvering them into their respective places. it was a definite struggle, as seen through the furrow in his brow, the snarl on his lips, the twitch of his brow.

oh, and the fact that the shirt was inside out with all the buttons in the wrong holes.

you sighed as you finally took his hands into yours, something that would result in a peasants hand getting cut off entirely. “prince,” you started, “this is my only responsibility. if you become good at this too i'll be out of a job.” you joked.

he scoffed, letting you pull his hand to his side as you unbuttoned his work. flipping the shirt around and working nimbly to get it on. “didn't even need y’r help anyways, i had it.” he muttered.

“of course you did, it's just– this is my job, your highness.” his eye twitched at the assertion of his rank. while it made him feel empowered by others, extras as he'd call them, it brought an odd feeling to have you of all people refer to him that way.

he’d grew up alongside you, the daughter of his very own mother’s handmaiden. you'd play around the castle together, sitting in for lessons with each other. to others it was an odd sight for you to be there, with clothes made of less refined material and hair unstyled and free.

he was raised the first twelve years of his life seeing you as his equal, viewing you almost as a royal all the same. until it was decided you'd be his personal servant. the nickname you had forgotten to time that you'd dubbed him all those years ago was now replaced by a formal ‘prince’. you'd bow to him and fetch him anything he needed. you'd stay by his side all day long, almost like you weren't allowed to leave.

because you weren't. because you were his, though not in the way he wanted.

“i already told you,” he whispered so lowly, if you weren't so close to him you wouldn't have heard it. “when it's just us it's katsuki. like it..

like it used to be.”

your hand paused, staying where it was fluffing up the collar of his button-up. your eyes widened and heart fastened, the pumping in your ears as a smile overtook your face. “..okay katsuki.”

an equally flushed look brushed over him, “tsk, whatever. we got a busy day today so, hurry up [name]..” you nodded, saluting mockfully as you hurried fixed his coat onto him, making sure his slacks were nicely pleated and shoes spotless before he head out to address the royals.

the royals who were visiting today in regards to his birthday bash in a week. the one where he'd have to choose a wife, one who'd hold the future of his kingdom in her hands alongside his.

you followed closely behind him as he made his way down to the main court, no words were shared between you but you understood the internal turmoil going through his head as best as you could.

mostly because you really didn't want him to get married either.

a longing glance went unnoticed by you as he looked at you, red eyes noticing the same feeling of anxiety in yours.

he balled his fist a little tighter at the sight, before slamming the doors of the court open, making everyone jump. you bowed deeply before following him, his hands deep in the silken slacks specially made for him.

katsuki hated how you weren't allowed to sit down almost as much as he hated this meeting entirely. dumbass kings and queens of other kingdoms looked at him, or more accurately the figurative seat he'd soon have as ruler, with fake practiced smiles on their faces. fake interest and fake emotions, fake everything.

he didn't fight the snarl on his face, the discontent in his posture as he rolled his eyes at their words, not sparing glances at the photos of their daughters or offers of money to him and his parents.

he truly didn't care, at least, not until they brought up you.

an older king, one with a smile that was more so with his eyes than his lips, joked to the king, “so, when your son gets married, can i have the servant? she's a looker.”

the rest of the royals laughed, hands covering their faces as katsuki felt disgusted for you, so much he just had to speak, “back off. why are you talking about her like that anyways? she's not for sale.” at least he managed not to curse.

a queen with a stupidly large fan in her hand made exaggeratedly big eyes, an ‘o’ on her lips as she spoke with a sickeningly sweet voice, “oh, don't you know future king? when the queen is assigned to this kingdom, your servant will be switched, considering she isn't a, well, he.” another joined in, red lipstick smothered over their lips, “no self respecting princess would ever let their betrothed have a servant of the opposite sex, what a scandal!”

laughs filled the room once more, though katsuki and his parents did not join in. he gripped the wood of his chair tightly, you swore you heard it crack under the weight of his anger. a vein was visible in his arms, a glare on his face. though he stayed silent. he glanced at you occasionally, and you'd give him a polite wave.

the rest of the conversation went about as smoothly as expected. the royals clashed with the kingdom’s generally ‘out of norm’ beliefs, a woman as the main advisor of the kingdom, and not to mention the queen holding majority power steady? but they barely voiced their discomfort since they wanted to stay on the queen and king’s good side. with a wave of the hand the queen gestured for katsuki to leave.

so katsuki left as soon as he was allowed to, almost jumping out of his seat. he left without a proper dismissal to the royals, something he'd get reprimanded for later. you right behind him. “where are we going prince? are you hungry?”

“no.” his voice was dry, no emotion seeping through as he continued walking throughout the halls. his face was hidden from your view. “okay, so where are we going?”

“the gardens.” your face scrunched up in confusion, you sped up your steps to try and catch him. “wait, the gardens? why?”

he stopped, making you bump into him as he finally looked into your eyes for the first time in a while. “because we need to talk, [name].” his eyes looked almost betrayed, sorrowful. your mouth opened to respond but you were cut off by your own need to keep up as he started up again.

through the halls and down a staircase, then turning to the left.

he stopped at the center of it all, almost to the entrance of the maze. stood in front of a grand waterfall built into the greenery, one you were very familiar with. the same one you'd played at as kids.

“katsuki.” you heaved. having to chase him through a flight of stairs was not for the weak, a.k.a you. you plopped right down on the bench next to him, ungraciously downing a water bottle as you closed your eyes. the sound of birds chirping, water running, and wind blowing through the garden filled your ears. a sense of serenity flooding over you two.

“when were you going to tell me?” katsuki’s voice cut through it all, a soft tone in his statement as he looked away from you. you jumped up at the sudden noise, but quickly asked, “tell you about what?”

he scoffed. “about what happens when i get married. how you're just going to leave? you're just going to leave me?” his eyes burrowed into your soul, accusatory words leaving his mouth as he stared at you.

“no, no i just– katsuki i didn't want to add another thing to stress about to you so quickly. i was going to tell you, but they told you first. i'm sorry.”

“you should be. i– i don't-,” his words got caught up in his mind. his mouth slightly hung open as he found himself unable to complete his sentence. his brain short circuited when you grabbed onto his hand, intertwining and bringing them onto your lap as you ask, “is everything okay?”

the words rushed out defensively. “yes, fuck. yes i'm okay. i don't like you hiding things from me so, don't pull that shit again.” he internally slapped himself on the head, his mind yelling a resounding no at his mouth.

he wanted to tell you how he needed you to stay, how he wanted you by his side for eternity. how he wished you were a royal, because he would've proposed just to the sight of you in the mornings. to the candid moments your two shared so often.

but he didn't.

you were undeterred by his harsh language, squeezing his hands before letting go and nodding. “ of course, prince.”

there it was again. the everlasting reminder of the differences between you, the boundaries that had never been dared crossed. though, as you guided him to the dining hall, he felt he might have to take that chance.

…

he finished dinner and changed, wanting to go to bed early that day. you bowed once more, before going to your own personal chambers just across from him.

you took a long, hot shower. the cascading of the water onto your body helping sooth the questions plaguing your mind. you washed your face, brushed your teeth and laid onto your bed, staring at the moonlit sky as you sigh.

you didn't want to leave katsuki. not at all. you didn't want him to get married, you didn't want him to kiss or be affectionate with someone else, you wanted him for you, like you two have always been. just for each other.

you wanted him to confide in you as equal again, you dreamt of being able to sit at the same tables and converse publicly. you wanted to hold his hand and not fear one day it'd be chopped off.

you wanted to be his. fully.

you let the sounds of the remaining water drip from the faucet rock you to sleep, impulsive thoughts striking your mind as you thought.. you might as well use these last days to show your feelings to him. you'll be gone next week anyways.

waking up with a renewed sense of vigor, you knew you now only had a couple days to show katsuki your feelings indirectly. well, as indirectly as you could think of.

starting this day, you snuck in more lingering touches than you thought possible, complimenting him whenever you were alone. being sweet to him, so sweet that he kept asking if you wanted something.

“prince, i brought some more of those chilis you like.”

instead of accepting them graciously, he only eyed you suspiciously. “the hell do you want?” he asked, staring at you accusedly as he bit down on one with no reaction.

“nothing! why do you keep saying that?” you pouted, “i should take the damn chilies back.”

“no way. these are mine, [name].” he snatched the basket out of your hands and stuffed one in his mouth. when he finally gulped it down, he adorned a lazy smirk, “thanks, [name].”

you hated how your heart reacted to him.

while your plan was underway of trying to get him to realize your feelings for you, he-

was trying to figure out how to keep you by his side. he used your only off day, mondays, as a way to get some advice. too bad he was friends with a bunch of bumbling idiots.

they were gathered around a place meant to practice their swordsmanship. his ‘friends’ who consisted of sons of dukes, duchesses, and advisors hung around. he kicked out a lot of them, leaving only three. sero, kirishima, and kaminari.

“hey bakugo, what's got you all crazy?” kaminari asked, trying to snipe an apple off of a nervous kirishima's head with a bow. “yeah, you've been giving us a death stare all day.” sero agreed, laughing at his repeated misses.

katsuki's back faced them.“i..,” he sucked in a breath. “ineedyourhelp.” he muttered quickly.

“what?” they all stopped, staring at him confused.

“ineedyourhelp.”

“slow down man-”

“i need your help.”

they all were jaw slack at the revelation, eyebrows raised as they stared at each other and back at him. they collectively chose not to make fun of him, almost feeling the urge to applaud his growth. “oh.. uh- what's up bro?”

katsuki breathed in, before averting his eyes and explaining. “my.. personal servant. found out she's gonna leave when i get married to some random princess, ill never see her again. but.. i don't want to lose her. i can't imagine my life without her.”

the three blinked, they'd never really seen bakugo this way. a look in his eyes that could only be described as, “love.” kaminari muttered, his hand supporting his chin as he diagnosed him. “you're in love man, congrats!”

he was now breathless as thoughts ran throughout his head, he found himself unable to respond. it was so obvious, his feelings for you were out of the ordinary, but he could never quite place the title of his symptoms til now.

the three shared a look at each other again, before sero pointed his finger in the air, “obviously, you want to marry her.”

katsuki sighed, a hand moving to support his head from head his neck. “so?”

“so,” kirishima started, “you marry her. easy.”

“not easy, isn't that like against the law?” kaminari cut in, picking up his bow once again.

“law or tradition, who knows? but maybe in those dusty old books we can find a law that like, lets him do this?” sero suggested.

kirishima snapped. “that's it!,” the arrow flew to pin the apple into the wall, “we just have to prove that he's allowed to marry a non-royal.”

“you idiots make it sound so easy.”

“cause it is. we can handle the research with help from your huge library!” kaminari pointed out, grabbing the staked apple and taking a bit out of it. “matter of fact. let's start now, we're going to need to plan out for your big day anyways.” kirishima held out a hand to bakugo.

a smirk came over katsuki’s face as he grabbed his hand, before nodding. “right.”

the rest of the day was spent knee deep in book upon books. the book keeper’s apprentice even helped them out, though they finally left at midnight with the ten books that would have the answers they need. they'd shoved the bulk of the books under his bed, high-fiving him sleepily as they hopped onto carriages, promising to be back tomorrow.

and back they were. the grind continued as they read page to page, finding clauses and conditions that could help katsuki. they each were assigned a book to look through, though they had to hide it from you. which was hard since looking after katsuki was your job.

“prince, is there anything you or your guests would like?” you asked, internally sobbing as you couldn't undergo your top tier plan with his friends around. what were they even doing? the entire day they spent holed up in his chambers, sat in a strange circle as they all read through the books.

“uh, we're okay-”

“actually servant,” kaminari cut in, a cheshire smile on his face, “we made a huge mess in the library yesterday. mind cleaning it for us?”

“o-oh. i don't mind, excuse me.” with that, and the tray of snacks you'd left behind, you were gone. sero and katsuki finished their books first, not finding anything of use. they started the next ones, when a couple hours in, kirishima suddenly jumped up, the cheese he was snacking on now discarded as he held the book into the air. “guys! i got something!” he was about to read it when an excited katsuki went and took it out of his hands, reading it in his mind.

‘clause 1.43.77, any king or queen who rules over their kingdom must choose a royal to accompany them by their side and produce an heir to the kingdom.

however, if a non-royal has proven their worthiness through devotion and loyalty to not only said king or queen, but the kingdom, they are an eligible bachelor as well.’

“this.. this can work then.” the four exchanged exhausted smiles, before collectively passing out. you came back to the sight of them all slumped over, you were tired yourself from putting away hundreds of law books. you grabbed pillows and blankets, placing them over the heirs to the kingdom, gently raising their heads and laying them onto the pillows.

you were upset at the day lost, katsuki had barely been sparing you a glance as of late. and that continued into the next day. you brought breakfast for all him and his guests, waking them up with a pull of a curtain. they all groaned collectively, trying to shield their eyes from the blinding sun. “what time even is it?” one of them grumbled. “too early.”

“it is noon, i let you all sleep in. you really should be getting up now.” you left the tray in front of them, being mindful of the books splayed open around them.

they got up, the red-haired one seemingly smelling the food in the air? odd. they all were really odd to say the least. they stared at you silently, making you tilt your head in confusion. all before katsuki raised a hand to you, mirroring his own mothers actions towards himself. “you're.. dismissed until the ball, [name].”

your eyes widened, mouth agape for a second before taking your leave. as the door closed behind you, a weird feeling of despair overtook you. you wobbled over to your room, locking the door behind as the feeling settled over you. you stared out the window, the cloudiness of the skies doing nothing to alleviate your mood.

meanwhile, katsuki was planning once again. there was now only two days left, two days to decide how he was going to plan out his bash.

two days to deal with the uncertainties that would arise from his crush on you. he could lose you, marry some other woman and imagine it was you laying next to him. imagine it was your lips and not hers, pretend she acted like you, all to save from the stresses of worrying about the problems to come.

no, he wanted you. he needed all of you, he needed to be all yours.

he sent his friends off, calling carriages for them

and reluctantly thanking them for their help. he walked around the gardens again, reminiscing on the years you two had spent, the many memories you'd made together.

he thought back to the way you'd play together, the causal touches and referring of each other something he'd taken for granted.

he closed his eyes, he never wanted his time with you to end, kingdom be damned. he wanted to memorialize your time together forever.

unknowingly, foiling your very own plans to make more with him. you didn't know what to do with yourself, you found yourself back at the servant’s quarters sniffling softly into the lap of the head servant, your mother. you knew he didn't upset you intentionally, right?

your mother listened as you explained what had happened, how you never had felt like such a failure. maybe it was those idiot friends of his, you didn't know.

your mother comforted you with a hand running along your hair, her embrace rocking you to sleep that night. her eyes looked into your sleeping ones, your face squished against her legs as wore a face of worry. your feelings were obvious, attending the bash and seeing him choose a bride would hurt you..

should she forbid you from attending?

…

katsuki was walking around his room aimlessly. his mind was running, purely on thoughts of you. he couldn't get you out his mind, he missed you deeply. but, he needed the space away from you to think. at least that's what he thought earlier.

he was basically codependent on your presence now, the day he'd spent away from you felt like an eternity.

he couldn't sleep. he'd laid in his bed dozens of times at this point, shutting his eyes, covering his ears, even trying to hum to himself. nothing worked.

he finally couldn't take it anymore, he found himself walking to your room. his hand hovered over the door, until he finally knocked. at no reply, he assumed you were asleep, though he heard the shuffling of feet inside. ‘this will make it easier.’ he thought, as he whispered and figured he'd pour his feelings out to you, response or not. his hand splayed against your door, palm pressed against the oak of the wood as he began.

“[name].” he heard the shuffling of feet stop. “i.. i have.. feelings for you. ones that i shouldn't have. i care for you deeply. and– i think i love you.” he was still as he waited for something, anything from you.

he let a small smile overtake his face, his hand falling from the door and going back into his pocket. “g’night, [name].” he went back into his room, finally able to rest now that he felt he got his feelings off his chest.

his heart was racing, he still didn't know if you felt the same. you said nothing, which was expected. he did drop a bomb on you all of a sudden. he finally drifted to bed.. not hearing the open and closing of your door. and not seeing that it was your mother who he had confessed to, not you who was currently asleep in her mother’s bed.

your mother pondered over his words, smiling at just how hopeless you two truly were. she caressed your hair once more, falling asleep beside you as she decided.

you'd have to go, and you'd be dressed like royalty in your own right.

your hair was ruined. you groaned as you caught an eye of yourself in one of the many mirrors in this part of the chambers, some of your friends laughing at the sight of you. this last day would be busy, too busy. it'd be your last day as katsuk’s servant, and you'd barely be able to see him.

you pouted, waltzing around the chambers mindlessly until your mother arrived behind you.

“[name], let's go. you have fittings for the bash tomorrow.” she grabbed you before you could voice your disapproval, taking you to your room. though she let go of you and walked into your room. you mindlessly went to katsuki’s room, wanting to be at his side at least once before tomorrow. at no reply to your knock, you excused yourself before walking in, only to be met by the sight of a messy room. empty. you cleaned his room up a little bit, making the task for his future servant a bit easier.

you left his room, laying on your bed before you saw gorgeous dresses that could probably buy your life two times over.

“mother, i don't even think i'll go tomorrow.”

“you have to, dear.” she grabbed your hand, “the prince would want you there alongside you. just like how you've been all his life.”

you looked to the floor, “but he sent me away..” your mother responded by nudging your head up. “he still cares for you. your absence is going to be odd for him, don't you think he was just trying to protect himself?”

you sighed and shrugged, “i guess i'll go then, if not, then to tie off loose ends.” you eyed the three dresses in front of you, and chose the one woven in silks and lace of your favorite color. “that one,” you pointed to it.

“i'll choose that one.”

…

funnily enough, as you walked into the bash and found yourself drinking punch, those were the words you'd felt the most fear of hearing. you fit right in alongside the princesses of other lands scattered across the hall, making lines to go speak to katsuki, who was absentmindedly staring at a wall. he looked like he'd rather be anywhere else in the world, but as his eyes locked on to your moving form towards the balcony, he excused himself.

“[name].” he called out to you, making you turn around and smile softly. “katsuki.”

“you look.. amazing.” he complimented, moving closer to you. “thank you for.. uh.. coming.”

“of course, future king. i'll stay by your side 'til

the end of tonight.”

he nodded. “right.” he sighed once more, something he seemed to do a lot around you now. “[name], did you hear me the other night?” he asked, looking into the distant forests surrounding the castle. at the shaking of your head, he continued, “i.. i just really care for you. that's all i want you to know.” he didn't look at you, he didn't think he could handle it right now. even from the vision of his peripherals, the glistening of your skin in the sun that slowly departed, the dress that matched you both in personality and in beauty, the smile that overcame your lips. it was a vision that would live in his dreams eternally.

“i care for you too katsuki.”

he finally turned to face you, he smiled, before opening his mouth to speak. only to be cut off by the sound of an obnoxious trumpet. he was to make his choice. “go.” you said, pushing him inside. your eyes burned as realization set into you, you'd ran out of time.

he was pushed to the center of the hall, all the princesses facing him with practiced smiles. courtesy's and bows that made him feel odd. the crown on his head had never felt so heavy, so burdened as now.

he looked over to you, the words everyone spoke pushed to the back of his mind as you sent an encouraging thumbs up his way. he knew you though, the look on your face was one of underlying sorrow.

even in this room full of people, even in the whole world large and vast, he'd always choose you.

so, when the room was silent and awaiting his answer? he pointed to you, making your breath hitch and eyes go wide.

you pointed to yourself, looking around before mouthing, ‘me?’ to which he mouthed, 'yes, idiot.’

you made your way towards him, eyes wide as everyone gasped. you weren't a royal, evident by the lack of jewelry adorning you.

“[name], it's always only been you. will you rule beside me?”

your eyes grew impossibly wider, pupils dilated to the max as a blush overtook your face. “..you're serious?”

“yes, i am.”

“i– is this even allowed?”

“my parents,” he gestured over to them, who sent polite smiles towards her. “they know about it, i sat down with them yesterday. i'm serious about this. i'm serious about you.”

“but what abou–”

“fuck everything else. this is about you and me.”

“do you accept, ms. [name]?” the bard asked, all eyes on you as, though you only looked into katsuki’s.

“if he'd have me, i'd be honored.”

he wordlessly asked you, and with a tilt of your head you prompted him to kiss you. though it was belated, the hall filled with cheers for the two of you.

“well,” the queen beckoned you two to her side, your hands intertwined as you stood in front of her. “this is surely a first, however.. it is undoubted that ms. [name] and her family have proved their loyalty and dedication to the kingdom.

therefore, we have no objection. masaru?”

“yes mitski.”

they both got up, the king wielding a sword as he stood next to you. katsuki helped guide you to the floor, he was on one knee as he was sworn in.

sworn in as king by your side.

the sword tapped his shoulders gently, a crown being brought out on a pillow and placed upon his head as you looked in awe, as an equally gorgeous one was placed unto yours.

“katsuki, i entrust our kingdom to you. with all of our people in the hands of you, and of course, your trusted wife.”

“i understand.” he said, bowing his head down to his father.

“[name].” the queen called to you, filling you with a sense of urgency. “yes my queen?”

she laughed, before taking a moment to whisper in your ear. “mitski is fine.” she cleared her throat, before continuing. “you will be a dedicated servant any longer, tomorrow you will wake up as the queen of our kingdom my dear. please, do your best to guide our king, and set the kingdom onto a path of prosperity.”

“thank you my– mitski. i will.” you bowed deeply, before you were helped up by katsuki once again.

you walked out the hall with katsuki at your side, the weight of the crown a shared experience between you two.

“‘suki.” the nickname lost to time finds itself back on your lips as you're led to his room, though this was the first time in years that it was out of familiarity, not work.

“[name].”

“thank you.”

“for what?”

“risking it all.. doing all that. it was.. indescribable.”

“.. it was worth it for you. i'd– i'd do anything for you. now we can make up for lost time. i really

missed you these last days.”

“i did too, god i was a wreck without you.”

“you wouldn't believe how bad i was without you.”

it seemed practiced, as if you'd done it a million times when he gestured for you to follow him to his bed. the way you melted into each other was unimaginable, not even the discomfort of your corset getting in the way of how he made you feel, though you'd gotten up to change.

now wearing house wear, clothes you'd never imagine you'd be wearing in his quarters, you laid next to him, the same moon shining brightly upon the two of you as he held you.

his head was on top of yours as you shared this wordless embrace, one that spoke thousands of words you'd need not to speak.

a kiss, one you'd both never though you'd get to share, especially not in his very own bed, was all that left the two of you as you settled into each other for the night.

you'd begun a servant and ended as queen, ranks though meant nothing to you, for your only wish was to stay eternally by his side.

a wish you both fought for.

tags: @gold24fish @nemisimp

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[babyleostuff]

── OLYMPICS MASTERLIST

[🤾🏽] 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄: HANDBALL

‟ you're always on seungcheol's mind, even when he scores a gold medal winning goal. and he’d be damned if you weren't the first person he ran to right after

handball player 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐥 + girlfriend reader wordcount: 2.2k

⦗💌 ⦘ fluff fluff FLUFF, definitely not based on mondo duplantis and his girlfriend

𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐚’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i highly recommend to listen to "the alchemy" while reading, and here is a tik tok which i based this fic on

two minutes left. 

two minutes left and cheol’s team was losing by two points. 

you weren’t looking at the pitch anymore; you hadn’t for the past five minutes, ever since your boyfriend’s team decided to ditch every rational strategy they could play by and run around like it was their first time playing handball instead. surely the pressure was getting into them, especially with the time slowly running out, but… they couldn’t let this win slip through their fingers so easily. 

the whole arena was buzzing with anticipation; you could feel the energy surging through your veins, though you weren’t sure if you wanted to scream with everyone else for cheol’s team to move their asses or if you wanted the audience to shut the hell up, so you could focus as if that had any influence on the game. 

“oh, come on!” you yelled as one of the opponents pushed cheol to the ground. “that deserves two minutes!” you groaned and threw your hands up when the referee did, in fact, not penalise the guy. 

it looked like seungcheol was just as frustrated as you were. he shook his head, which made his faded blue bangs fall over his eyes, and took his place at the nine-metre mark. you huffed in annoyance - you told him to pin them back or to put on a headband before the match, and he still hadn't listened to you. nothing new. 

“pass it to jaehyun!” you screamed your ass off once again and waved in the direction of the left winger, acting like your boyfriend could hear you perfectly amongst the noise.

you couldn’t help but feel sorry for the lady on your left, who was gripping her child closely to her waist. she probably thought you were mentally ill, and to be honest, you looked like it. you were sporting the “struck by lightning” hairstyle from how often you tugged at your hair. 

by the 59 minute mark, the boys managed to score two points, which meant it was a tie. 

one minute left. 

you were looking through your fingers as the opposite team quickly managed to get through the boys’ defence and score, as much as you didn’t want to admit it, a very impressive goal, leaving seungcheol’s team utterly speechless and, at this point, drained. you could see it on their faces - the realisation that the gold medal was slowly slipping away from them, that if they didn’t do something quickly, they’d lose everything they’d been working on for the past months. 

you could almost feel the anger that was surging through your boyfriend as he turned around to pick up the ball. 

“come on, baby. come on,” you muttered, holding onto your jersey with his name and number on it so hard that your knuckles turned white. 

for a second, you thought that your gaze met his, as if he knew exactly where you’d be sitting. you couldn’t tell for sure, but you saw a flicker of something that you couldn’t quite recognise in your boyfriend’s eye. 

“you can do it, cheol” you whispered.

for the first time, you couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but the look in his eyes told you that he wasn’t done fighting yet, and for that alone, you were eternally proud of him. before you could blink, cheol was already on the other side of the pitch, throwing the ball to mark, who forced his way through the defence. 

thankfully, the opposite team was starting to panic as well, and mark managed to win a penalty, so the match was back to a tie.

“it’s okay,” you told yourself. “if it’s a tie then there’s still a chance.” 

everyone was standing at this point. people were holding onto their loved ones, some were covering their mouths or had their arms over their heads. most of the bleachers were screaming in unison for their teams, while the rest kept their mouths shut, looking pale and rather… not okay. 

you were probably a mix between the two, but you couldn’t care less. your voice was hoarse and you knew you wouldn’t be able to talk tomorrow, but if you didn’t scream you’d literally combust from all the pent up anxiety. you were shaking like a leaf, your legs were bouncing up and down, and if you didn’t have the jersey to hold onto you were sure you’d scratch the skin off your face. 

“loser!” you yelled, earning a disapproving look from some of the people around you. again - you couldn’t care less. 

twenty seconds. 

you weren’t pro by no means, but you’ve been watching seungcheol play long enough to know that twenty seconds was not enough. not for him, not for mark, not for jae - the only thing that could save them now was a miracle. 

the boys’ coach yelled for time, his face serious and wiped out of any emotions, showing nothing more than pure professionalism. you had no idea how he did it - if it was you, you’d either faint, puke or straight up leave, but that was probably why you never pursued sports. not that you were a big fan of being sporty yourself. last time seungcheol brought you to the gym you pulled at least three muscles you didn’t think could be pulled. 

when both teams left for their respective sidelines, the whole arena exhaled in unison. it was quite funny, though, how the fans were sweating more than the athletes, or how they looked even more tired than them, you included. it was just a joke you liked to tell cheol, that you’d turn grey before thirty, but maybe it wasn’t that far from the truth after all.

you peeked over to the boys’ side to see seungcheol yelling something and waving his arms around from one player to another. 

“that’s my man.” 

whether they’d lose or win, the fact that they wouldn’t go without a fight was all that mattered. 

when the referee blew his whistle, the tension came back as quickly as it disappeared.

you gritted your teeth as the game resumed, with the opposite team throwing the ball between them as if it were merely a warm-up. there was no way that with twenty seconds left on the clock and the game being tied, they’d try to even think about risking and shooting at the goal. they’d do anything to drag these twenty seconds out as much as they could, because overtime was a much better option for them than risking and losing.

but they didn’t know much of a fighter choi seungcheol was.

the centre of the opposite team made a mistake of taking a second too long looking at the right back-court, which told seungcheol everything he needed to know. he lunged forward the second the ball left his opponent's hands and caught it before it could reach the other player. 

for a brief second, the whole pierre mauroy stadium held its breath, enveloping the whole place in complete silence, like in a cheap action movie right before the main lead defeats the villain. no one dared to make a sound, not a single squeak, as everyone’s eyes were glued to your boyfriend in disbelief.

then it sank in. 

he did it. he grabbed the ball, he had the ball. 

what happened next went by so fast that you felt like you blinked and it was over. 

no one suspected that seungcheol would dare to make such a bold move, considering that by doing so he weakened his team's defence, which he couldn’t afford in his situation. and that was the best decision he could’ve made. the opponents remained rooted to the spot as cheol ran towards the goal as fast as he could. now it was just him and the goalie. 

“please, please, please.” 

when seungcheol was a few steps away from the nine-metre line, when he was seconds away from possibly ruining everything he had worked for, when you saw him dribble the ball one last time before he shot - you closed your eyes tightly and covered them with your hands for good measure. 

for a moment you didn't know what was happening. if he scored or not. the entire arena was still silent, as if someone clicked pause, before the stands on your side erupted in a frenzy of screams and tears.

"oh my god."

your hands were shaking as you uncovered your eyes. a part of you was afraid to do it, afraid to look at the score, afraid that those screams of joy were just a figment of your desperate imagination. 

41:40.

tears filled your eyes as the referee blowed his whistle for the last time. 

a quiet gasp left your mouth. “they won,” your mind was screaming over and over again.  

cheol was kneeling in front of the goal, his broad back facing you, breathing heavily as if he was trying to understand what was happening. his team on the other side of the pitch was going crazy - the guys were throwing themselves at each other, lifting each other up, some were sitting with their heads between their knees so the cameras wouldn't catch their tears.

ever so slowly, seungcheol turned around, his eyes immediately finding yours amidst the crowd of celebrating fans. the world around you stopped. the noise faded away. people disappeared. it was only you and him. cheol’s big hazel eyes looked like they were holding every star of the universe in them, every ounce of love and joy that this world had to offer. he let the tears stream freely down his rosy cheeks, not bothered to wipe them away. 

he shook his head in disbelief and you couldn’t help but laugh. “you won, silly,” you wanted to tell him. 

a couple of guys finally ran up to him, and tackled him in a group hug, screaming so loudly that you could hear them clearly from the other side of the pitch. heeseung shook seungcheol’s shoulders as if to wake him from his trance, shouting and laughing around him, but cheol was still staring at you and you only. despite the thousands of people in the arena, your boyfriend made you feel as if only you existed, like no one else, nothing else - not even his golden medal mattered to him. 

finally, cheol grabbed jake’s outstretched hand and got up, making the stadium go even more crazy. he was their hero, their pride and treasure, and still - he was looking only at you. 

"what are you doing, you stupid?" you thought, as he smiled like an idiot at you and murmured something to jake. 

the boy beside him only shook his head, and patted him on the back. 

“what are you-,” you hiccuped, wiping away the tears. 

before you could blink, seungcheol stood before you, tearful but with a beautiful gummy smile that you adored so much spread across his handsome face. he looked like he wanted to say something, like he had a thousand things on his mind but couldn't articulate a single one.

instead, he just started crying even harder.

"oh, seungcheol," you sighed, and threw yourself into his arms.

you stood like that for a moment - intertwined in each other's arms as if you were one.

“we did it,” seungcheol cried into your shoulder. “baby, we did it, we won,” his body shook, as you gripped his shoulders tighter. 

“yes, cheollie,” you heard your own voice shake, trying not to fall apart completely, and kissed the top of his head. “you did it.” 

you could feel the cameras on you, the stares and the whispers, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about them. not when the love of your life was holding onto you for dear life, not when he had just won a gold olympic medal. not when he had just made his biggest dream come true. 

“i’m so proud of you,” you choked on a sob. “so proud.” 

seungcheol shook his head, still in disbelief of what had just happened. he pulled himself from your embrace, face red and sweaty, proving just how much he put into the game. he was the miracle they needed - your boyfriend, your choi seungcheol who worked day and night to fulfil his and his team’s dreams, was that little ray of hope that managed to do the impossible. 

“i love you,” he said, tears still rolling down his cheeks. “i fucking love you so much.” 

taking his face in your hands, you pressed your forehead to his, because nothing you’d say would convey what you were feeling. maybe the right words would come eventually, but for now you didn’t know what else to do than cry with him. your heart was beaming. beaming with love, with pride, with so much fondness to the point where it was most likely unhealthy, and still you wanted more more more.   

“you stink,” you laughed through your tears, pushing cheol’s sweaty hair that fell over his eyes. still, he had never looked more beautiful to you.

“oh, i stink?” he smiled wickedly, and shook his head right in front of your face. 

beads of sweat that were clinging onto his forehead and tips of hair fell straight on you. “cheol! cheol, stop!” you squealed, pushing the man away from you. no surprise - he did not budge an inch.  

“now we’re stinky together,” he mumbled, and pressed his pouty lips against yours, disregarding your whines of protests. 

well, it was safe to say that the whole internet went crazy after that.

[base0h]

HOW HAIKYUU CHARACTERS WOULD REACT TO YOU COMPLIMENTING ANOTHER PLAYER

a/n - I’m alive I swear 💀 I just rewatched some of haikyuu so I’m more familiar with that rn 😂😂

warnings ⚠️ - g/n reader, fluff/crack, pre-timeskip characters btw, I don’t feel like making picture banners for all of them like I do with one piece forgive me for just putting text 🥲

HINATA

- yeah you just broke your bro’s heart into a billion pieces

- remember that time when he got nailed in the crotch by a ball in S4? Yeah that’s what it felt like

- “Isn’t he so cool Hinata?!” -you

- but he’s also torn because he also thinks they’re awesome af 😭 so he can’t decide if he’s more saddened by the fact that you’re not saying that about him or if he’s excited that you also like one of his idols

- “…Yes he’s— very cool.” -hinata

- “…You do know my fav player’s always gonna be you though right?”

- oh you don’t even KNOW. How happy you just made him. You just turned his life around with just a single sentence

- bro could burst through the ceiling now

- he basically smothered you with a hug after that and did one of those koala hugs where he was basically just clinging onto you with pure adoration and affection

- it’s one thing if some random other student or little kid came up to him saying he was cool— like don’t get me wrong he’d probably freak out in a good way about that too

- but when it comes from you? He could have all haters but if he still had you? He’s totally fine. All bro needs is your support

- but do be careful because he might actually suffocate you one day if you compliment him too much

- each time you say something good about him his hugs get stronger?? If that’s even possible idk 😭

- you’ll have a great free chiropractor tho so woo hoo😁👍

GOSHIKI

- bro has a thing for getting compliments or getting praise. I saw it VERY clearly when Hinata gave him that compliment about his spikes during the shiratorizawa training camp

- and then when Tendo said his bangs were cool bro was so happy 😭 (he’s so sweet oml)

- but of course when you watch his matches— I mean— you’re gonna be impressed by ushijima

- who wouldn’t be? Bros a literal nuclear bomb ahh spiker 💀

- after one of his matches you went up to him and started talking about ushijima and how cool his spikes and serves were

- “I feel like he’s gonna literally pop the ball everytime he hits it! It’s awesome!” -you

- he agrees wholeheartedly with you! But— man. He wanted you to say that about him 😭

- “Yeah— he’s amazing right..?” -him

- “He’s a third year right?”

- Goshiki nodded and scratched the back of his head sheepishly, looking a bit down

- “Oh so he’s just clearing the way for you then! There can only be one ace so he’s gotta move out of the way for you.”

(I couldn’t find the proper meme to put here so here’s the actual screenshot of him)

- bro could ascend

- he could die right then and there

- but then he remembered he has to show off for you still so he stayed on earth

- ushijima heard you say that btw

- it looked like he wanted to murder you but in reality he thought it was very nice of you to say that to lift goshiki’s spirits

- he just— looks like he wants to crush you and send you to mars 💀

- also Tendo makes fun of him for being so happy about being praised

- “HAHAHAHAH— you LOVE it when y/n ever tells you something positive about you huh~??” -tendo

- yeah no he’s not gonna leave your poor bowl cut boy alone about it now

BOKUTO

- like the other two, he’s big on praise

- I mean before every match the manager tells him someone in the audience said he looks cool so he plays better 😭😭

- having you supporting him at his matches is like having an entire stadium full of people cheering his name

- you make Akaashi’s life less stressful. Good job y/n, Akaashi loves you for that and will legit pay you money to keep coming even though he knows he doesn’t have to. He’s that grateful for you

- I ain’t kidding one time Akaashi just started tearing up thanking you for being his fail safe plan if his 2000000 other plans to get Bokuto out of his emo mode don’t work

- he knows just like one compliment from you will cure Bokuto

- yeah so guess what you had to go and say right before a match started?

- “I just saw itachiyama play and wow that Sakusa guy who’s one of the top 3 spikers was just as good as they said he was!” -you

- akaashi might just do a backflip off of the stadium roof at this point 🙂 hardcore parkour

- the way you could literally see Bokuto’s hair droop down is insane

- konoha and sarukui were like: holy shit we’re absolutely cooked 😀

- this wasn’t an emo mode this was an avant garde mode

- but right as Akaashi was about to seriously jump off the roof, you saved everyone from the disaster you created

- “I don’t know why you’re not in the top three though, imo you’re a lot better than that guy, and a lot cooler looking too.”

- Akaashi looked like he was gonna live again

- Bokuto’s hair flipped back upwards and he excitedly smiled at you, giving you a big hug before going onto the court with an ecstatic air about him

- Akaashi is genuinely terrified of how you can simultaneously destroy their team and bring it back together with singular sentences

- you’re Bokuto’s weakness number 38 which akaashi does not have a solution for 💀

AKAASHI

- Akaashi is honestly happy you’re just with him

- he doesn’t really mind it if you can’t come to see him play, of course he’d love for you to be there but he totally understands if you can’t, and won’t be destroyed about it

- he loves your support and will always appreciate you for cheering him on (and being his mental support because taking care of Bokuto is life draining and he probably gets about a month taken off of his life everytime Bokuto goes into his emo mode)

- during the match with nekoma, you noticed how the setter on their team was also quite an intelligent and skilled player despite seeming so bored and uninterested in the sport entirely

- he had a hold on Bokuto for a good while and it was impressive how he managed to put Bokuto in a slump so smoothly and discreetly

- after the match, you congratulated fukurodani on their victory, and akaashi thanked you for coming like the gentleman bro is

- “That setter on nekoma was really good— he was so calculating and calm about his strategy to make Bokuto go into a slump!” -you

- Akaashi was still a bit traumatized by Bokuto literally forgetting how to do cross shots entirely so uh— 😀

- yeah it didn’t really sound great to him

- bro had to pull out a whole ass speech plus hinata to get Bokuto back on his feet and then you say that 🥲

- he isn’t mad or anything but he isn’t very overjoyed either

- “Yes, he was a really tough opponent. Kuroo-san was too.” -Akaashi

- Akaashi was good at hiding his displeasure, so it just sounded like he was saying something normal like he usually would, in a straight steady tone

- “No match for you and the team though, you guys definitely deserved the win. And you actually look interested and not like you want to die on the court unlike that setter on nekoma— he looked like he wanted to collapse and sleep forever after the first set.”

- he wasn’t expecting you to say that, and he looked pleasantly surprised

- Bokuto grinned and put his arm around the setter

- “Y/n’s right as always, Kenma’s no match for akaashi!” -Bokuto

- the rest of the team wholeheartedly agreed, and akaashi felt glad, happy to know that his team, and especially you thought so highly of him

- no one else could handle Bokuto like he could, and no one could be as cool in your eyes as he was

- you could probably tell him his glasses looked nice and he would never take them off again—

- he’s the type of guy to listen to whatever you say a bit too much sometimes 😭

- he legit remembers the outfit you wore the day he first met you

- kinda creepy but sweet ig? 🤷

OIKAWA

- bro has a billion fans and only really cares abt you cheering him on

- like ofc he needs other people to be cheering him on too because he’s extra like that but it’s 80% you

- don’t ask abt the 20%

- yk how all those girls were asking for his picture and stuff? Ever since he got together with you, he’s been avoiding them a lot more

- he knows it’s probably especially annoying for you to see a bunch of random people asking your boyfriend for pictures and giving him handmade things

- just know that he thinks you’re better than any girl combined and if you ever like start walking away before he’s finished trying to get the girls away from him he will legit sprint after you while screaming

- “Y/N-CHAN WAAAAAAAAAIT!!!”

- my dude is running, and I mean running like a mf track star. You piss off his fangirls so much bro it’s so funny how they look at you like they want to poison you in your sleep💀💀💀

- he reassures you on the daily that you’re beautiful and amazing, but still it’s annoying to see all the girls fawn over him

- so you decided to give him a similar taste of his own medicine

- at the next matches, you were watching with him a match with karasuno and shiratorizawa. You know VERY well that he does not like karasuno or shiratorizawa

- ushijima is probably the one who’s the worst…

- perfect.

- “Whoa Ushijima’s serves are so cool!! And he uses his left hand too damn that’s unique! I’ve never seen a left handed player like him before, and those spikes look like they’re about to tear karasuno’s blocker’s arms off!” -you

- I don’t think he’s ever been more simultaneously heart broken, and pissed at ushijima at the same time before

- he’s such a baby about it too

- he’ll cross his arms and act like he doesn’t care when obviously he does, and with the way he’s pouting about it like a little kid was proof that your little plan worked very well

- “Hmph, I guess so.” -him

- “What, you salty since you lost?” -you

- “Would you mind not rubbing salt in it? It’s only been like two days!”

- you couldn’t help but burst out into laughing because of how upset he was by this— it was ridiculous

- if you had your phone out you would’ve taken a picture of his face and sent it to iwaizumi for shits and giggles

- “I’m joking Oikawa, I think you’re much cooler than ushijima. You have a lot more personality than him.” -you

- “That’s damn right I do!” -him

- “…I didn’t say a good personality or anything.”

- “Pardon me?! I’m very demure and cute thank you very much.”

- “You saying that just proves you’re anything but that.”

- “Y/N BE NICE TO ME :(“

- “No. :)”

- “I knew I shouldn’t have let you hang out with Iwa-chan, he’s turned you against me!”

KUROO

- you’re the carbon to his dioxide

- the hydrogen to his peroxide

- the deoxyribose to his phosphate group (I paid attention in science kuroo, yw)

- even if he doesn’t get to be interviewed by some reporter, and even if he doesn’t get to go to nationals

- if you’re there and supporting him he feels better

- talking to you and hearing you say how cool he plays is more than an interview could ever mean to him

- seriously you make him chemically insane

- like he does not understand how just being around you releases endorphins somehow (you’re magical)

- you had heard of their opponents nohebi from eavesdropping on a couple of random people’s conversations in the lobby

- they were a strong team, and you were intrigued by how a lot of people seemed to dislike them a lot for the way they played.. which was very underhanded

- but even with their underhanded tactics, they were a solid team with good technique and teamwork

- “Whoa the captain of nohebi is actually pretty good!” -you

- “Ugh I know right? Come on nekoma!” -Akane (Yamamoto’s little sister)

- I feel like kuroo has horrible eyesight but then absolutely amazing hearing? Idk 💀 but whatever the case was, he heard that

- loud and clear

- mhm he’s ready to kill nohebi now

- bro is legit a one man Great Wall of china now

- he’s “powered up” as Kenma would say

- Kenma took note that you were kuroo’s power up skill, and would remember to use you in the future as well

- I’m serious bro is flexing so hard on you rn 😭

- he is working double time, sweating, tryna channel his inner Bokuto

- yaku hasn’t needed to save the ball because kuroo’s trying so hard to impress you 💀

- honestly it’s kind of amazing— seeing him sprinting left and right and slamming balls down like it was no one’s business but his

- he checks like every five seconds to see if you’re watching his amazing skills

- and after the match— Kenma went up to you first and thanked you bc Kuroo did like 70% of the work for him 😭

- Kenma legit gave you a Nintendo gift card he’s had in his back pocket since 2019 as a thank you gift and as a “please continue making kuroo do all the work” gift

- god knows how it’s stayed in his pants that have probably been through countless wash cycles 💀

- “Oh kuroo! Fukunaga’s last spike was so cool! He totally hit that line shot perfectly!”

- way to stab kuroo in the back 🥲 he’s legit about to collapse from emotionally throwing out his back

- old man down over here

- he was so destroyed— you left no piece of him intact he’s in literal shambles

- “But kuroo you were so cool! You kept blocking and repelling the balls like you were oppositely charged from the ball!”

- and he’s alive again, you’re a magician

- complimenting him using a science reference?

- oh just marry him already 😭

- he knew you must just be dopamine bc he smiles like an idiot whenever you’re around

- somehow his smile gets even dorkier when you compliment him

- if it’s a science compliment he could quite literally ascend to the moon

- “Hehe thanks y/n.” -him

- “Were you tryna show off in the last set?” -you

- “…Why? Did it work?”

- “…Hm. Perhaps hypothetically, yes.”

- “How does one go about making that hypothesis a true statement? 😏”

- kuroo is so nerdy and his pickup lines are so bad that it just takes whatever smoothness he had (very little to start with btw) away 😭😭😭

- like pls when he first met you when yall were paired up to do a science project about magnetism— bro said

- “Even Neodymium would lose if it were to compete against your magnetic personality 😏🌹”

- “…What? 💀” -you

- you weren’t really sure if you should love bro for his effort or be scared of how bad his pickup lines were

- the answer is both

- it all ended up ok anyways— you’re bonded to him together since yall are oppositely charged ✌️

a/n - no I don’t know how to make pickup lines 💀

[emmyrosee]

Cold breath puffs out past his lips as he picks up the pay phone, slips in a quarter and dials your familiar number. Atsumu rarely calls you on his cellphone anymore, out of fear one of the times he does, you’ll block him clean from your life.

The dial tone hums three times before you show mercy and pick up the phone, interrupting the deafening line. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, smiling softly as your voice, unsuspecting and calm, eases over the line.

“Hello?”

“Hey, baby…”

You’re silent, the only thing giving you away is the way your breathing seems to rag out, rasping softly as it passes through your teeth, a hurt you seem to try to fight back.

“Atsumu?”

The way his throat catches at the sound of his name on your voice has him completely caught off guard; aside from the fact that he hasn’t heard it in months, let alone his actual name on your tongue, just to hear your voice again makes him choke up.

“Yeah. Yeah, hey, it’s me,” he rambles, leaning against the wall of the restaurant he’s calling you at. He closes his jacket tighter around his torso, wondering if it’s warmer in your neck of the woods.

The ones he abandoned you at.

You were familiar. He needed the sense of familiarity as he travels, using you as a means to stay grounded after he abandoned you so promptly. Even right now, this wasn’t meant to destroy you, tear down the walls you’d spent years trying to mend, it was to seek comfort in you- selfish? Perhaps. But he is selfish.

He wished he could be like his brother, content with staying in one place and taking in every day with ease. But Atsumu has never been like his brother, growing far too stir crazy at the mere idea his roots might be planted somewhere, keeping him there for eternity. He doesn’t like feeling trapped, he hates it, even if feeling trapped meant he could be his happiest.

What Atsumu didn’t expect though, was for his roots to be you, the one thing he can’t sever himself from. You’re his drug of choice, his intoxication he can’t get sober from, and fuck, how he craves you.

“I’m… I’m thinking of coming back home.”

“Why?”

The way you snap at him your quick, firm answer makes his skin crawl. He’d been hoping, like a selfish idiot, that you’d somehow be excited for his return, like you had been every time he’d come home: you’d run into his arms like a missing piece, trusting him to catch you as you fall against his chest, your nose would bury into the dip of his neck while he cradles you close, kissing wherever his lips could reach and just for a moment, you both could pretend that this was normal. You’d meant to do this. Be apart for so long it tears you both inside, only for your reunion to be filled with joy and happy tears.

That this was normal, per se.

He thunks his head against the wall, sending a sharp pain through his skull, but he pays it minimal mind as he tries to conjure an argument to not make you hate him more than you already do.

“I want to see you,” he finally confesses. “I… I don’t know when I’m coming home, but it’ll be soon, okay?” He asks. When you say nothing, he closes his eyes, “can I see you?”

“You’re all talk,” you snarl, but he hears the tears in your voice. “You’re not coming home to stay, you’re coming home to get a morsel of attention and praise, then leave me again. I know that.”

He screws his eyes shut as you so clearly, so hurt, list the events that repeat every time he comes home. He wants to blame his success, chasing a high he can’t seem to find anymore, but he can. It’s a high with you, a thrill he gets when he sees your eyes glimmer with excited tears, an unparalleled sense of peace when you’re in his arms, one no person, place, or thing has been able to come close to.

But you… you were different. He loves you.

And Atsumu Miya is a runner.

“You should just keep playing house with one of your little friends that you make on the road,” you laugh cruelly. “Since they’re able to keep you much, much happier than I’ve ever been able to, clearly.”

“Hey, you wanna play the bigger person here? I never do shit with anyone when I’m out on the road, I’m loyal to you, okay?”

“My. Hero,” you spit from your gritted teeth. “You want a medal for doing below the bare minimum? Leaving me for months on end and coming back when you see fit, only to tell me you ‘stay loyal?’ You’re not loyal. You’re a coward.”

His heart breaks.

Coward. That’s what he is. He’s a coward, running from a life of comfort and stability to chase a high that he can only get in his dreams, a high that does not exist.

The closest he has, is you. And you don’t want him anymore. Rightfully so, Atsumu will give you that. But the idea, the mere concept of you not wanting him anymore sends him into a panic.

No, he thinks to himself, you’re bluffing, you’re all talk too, and the second you see him, your reserve will crumble and your heart will soften and you’ll love him again. You’ll plead for him to stay, to be with you forever, because you can make this work together.

He hopes that this time, he’ll love you enough to stay, too. He doesn’t bet on it, and the idea stings his eyes with tears. He screws them shut in agony. His root will only be severed when you do it. He hopes you do it mercifully. He hopes you’ll do it this time he comes home, setting you both free from the dance you’ve entangled yourselves in.

“I… I know im all talk,” he chokes, leaning his forehead against the brick of the wall he’s talking against. “But I… I know that we’ll be together soon. I’ll come home, and we’ll work it out this time. I swear.”

He sinks his teeth into his lip to try and fight back the sob that wants to break through. You hang up the phone, leaving only the dial tone to ring in his ear.

He smiles despite the tears welling in his eyes.

“I can’t wait until then.”

-

@reverie-starlight heres that angst I was teasing… 😬

[puckinghischier]

i just knowwww quinn has this streak of jealousy within him at all times.

like, even when you’re just joking around with jack and luke, you KNOW he’s giving them side eye the whole time, not appreciating how touchy jack is when the two of you are laughing at one of his bad jokes, or the way luke always seems to squeeze you extra tight during goodbye or hello hugs.

and it not that he’s doing it in a toxic way, really, he just always wants you all to himself. he loves the relationship you have with his brothers, truly, but you’re the one thing that he gets to have that they don’t. you were his friend first. you always wanted to come to the lake to spend time with him. you go to all of his games. live in his city. he’s had to share everything with his younger brothers growing up. the same hockey teams, the same coaches, luke following his footsteps and playing for michigan, jack being on team usa with him, their stats always being compared, and everything else about them.

which, he loves the fact that they all made it into the league and he loves experiencing all of this with his brothers, but sometimes it’s nice to just have something that’s yours.

and when you’re out at the bar with him? game over. if a man so much as looks in your direction with any sort of impure intentions, quinn is on you like glue. not that he doesn’t trust you. he trusts you infinitely, but he doesn’t trust everyone else. he makes sure your drink is always full so guys don’t try to buy one for you. he’s got a hand on you at all times, letting everyone know who you came there with. he’s always there to guide you to and from the bathroom, making sure you don’t get cornered by some drunk man looking for a good time.

at games, when he watches guys attempt to flirt with you in the stands, even though you’re wearing his name and number on your back, always gets him going, too. he knows you always turn them down, watching you flat out ignore their comments most of the time, but he can’t lie and say it doesn’t fuel him to play that much better, skating over to your section and making some big display of affection towards you after he scores, glaring at whatever man was trying to get your attention that night.

of course, you’re aware of his small jealousy problem, scolding him when he gets too pouty when you’re spending time with his brothers or chatting up his teammates while you wait on him to fulfill his captain duties after games. but you can’t lie and say the slight flare of his nostrils and grumpy furrow of his eyebrows doesn’t give you butterflies, sometimes. knowing he’s not really trying to control you, just wanting your attention, gives your ego a slight boost, if you’re honest.

despite his harsh demeanor and glares when the two of you are out in public, all it takes is one smile from you and he’s mush. he’d do anything you asked him to do (because let’s be honest, we all know he has a subby side), his number one priority always making sure you’re happy, even if he does have to clench his jaw to stop himself from yelling at jack when he plops down next you on the couch during movie night, leaving no room for quinn.

he knows you love him, and he know he loves you with everything in him, but sometimes he just wants to lock you up in his apartment so no one else gets the privilege of seeing your pretty face and hearing your sweet voice. because even though you decided quinn was the lucky one that gets to wake up next to you every morning, doesn’t mean everyone else has a right to experience your beauty and kindness all the time. sometimes he just wanted to be selfish, keep all of your good qualities to himself.