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nickistuffs · 3 days ago

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Hello Again Pt. 1

Pairing: Harry x Designer reader (curvy or plus size whatever you feel they should look like. This is my preference 😌)

Summary: This feels fated to meet again and again and again

Word Count: 18.08k

Warnings: None. just fluff and also a slow burn.

...

A ping from your email broke your concentration on work. You sighed, already assuming it was one of your manufacturers asking for yet another confirmation about a product you’d been working over for months. Without much thought, you clicked on the notification, ready to fire off a quick response.

To your surprise, the email wasn’t from a manufacturer—it was from Sam, your old friend and occasional collaborator. His subject line read: “Job Offer You Can’t Refuse.” Intrigued, you opened the email and quickly scanned its contents.

It seemed Sam had found you a project that piqued his interest—and yours. The pay was good, the timeline was tight, and the concept sounded straightforward.

You immediately picked up your phone and called him. No need for formalities; this was Sam, after all.

“Hey, Sam,” you said as soon as he answered, skipping any pleasantries. “What’s this mysterious job offer you’re dangling in front of me?”

“Oh, that.” He sounded smug, which only made you roll your eyes. “I’m under an NDA, so I can’t say too much, but it’s a pop-up store project. The whole thing needs to be modular and removable, so it can be packed up and relocated in two months. Easy, right? You in?”

You didn’t even hesitate. “Of course, I’m in! Sounds simple enough. Send over the contract and details, and I’ll get started.”

“I knew I could count on you,” he said with a grin you could practically hear through the phone. “See you onsite, Y/N.” ...

The day of the meeting arrived, and you were ready—or so you thought.

Sam couldn’t make it and had entrusted you to lead the meeting solo, but you were used to working independently, so it wasn’t a problem. Dressed in a professional outfit that balanced comfort and confidence, you walked into the office where the meeting was being held.

As you glanced around at the product displays, your heart skipped a beat. You could already tell this was a high-profile client. Their products, branding, and visuals exuded quality and creativity.

As you tried to calm your nerves, the conference room door opened, and a group of people filed out.

A friendly woman approached you, pulling you back to reality.

“Hello, are you Ms. Y/N L/N?”

“Yes,” you replied with a polite smile, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “I have a meeting with your visual merchandising manager.”

“Perfect, you’re our two o’clock appointment. Please come in.”

You stepped inside the sleek, minimalistic conference room and began setting up.

“Our lead designer just stepped out for a quick break,” the woman explained, handing you a water bottle. “They’ll be back in ten minutes and a few other designers. Is there anything else I can get you while you wait? Coffee?”

“Water is fine. Thank you,” you replied.

You opened your laptop, pulled up your notes and sketches, and jotted down a few ideas in your journal. You were mid-thought when the door opened behind you.

You turned, ready to greet whoever entered, but the words caught in your throat.

It was him. Harry Styles.

...

You both stared at each other, completely stunned. Of all the people you could run into at this meeting, it had to be him. You hadn’t seen Harry since your last encounter at Felice’s Café.

For a moment, it felt like the world had slowed down, your mind scrambling to process his presence. He looked just as effortlessly charming as you remembered, his warm green eyes flickering with recognition and surprise.

Finally, Harry broke the silence, his voice smooth but slightly uncertain.

“Hello, I’m Harry Styles. I’m the owner of the company. Nice to meet you…?”

It took you a second to respond, your voice catching in your throat. “It’s Y/N. Y/N L/N. Nice to meet you as well.”

He smiled, extending a hand toward you. You scrambled to your feet, standing taller than you’d expected, and reached out to shake his hand.

Your hands met, and you shook it—a bit too long, you thought as the realization hit. The warmth of his hand lingered, making you feel like time had momentarily stopped again.

You quickly dropped your hand and clasped it behind your back, your face heating up.

For a split second, an awkward silence filled the room. Harry seemed like he was about to say something, his lips parting as if to speak—

But just then, the door opened, and a small group of people filed into the room, shattering the quiet bubble you’d both been trapped in.

“Ah, great,” said a cheerful man from the group, clapping his hands together as he approached. “Harry, you’re here. And this must be Ms. L/N!”

The moment was gone. Harry straightened, his expression shifting seamlessly to one of polite professionalism, though you caught a flicker of something in his eyes as he glanced back at you.

You offered a polite nod to the newcomers, forcing yourself to focus as introductions were made. Yet, as the meeting began, you couldn’t help but feel like something important had been left unsaid.

And judging by the way Harry occasionally glanced your way, he felt the same.

...

As the meeting progressed, Harry found himself quietly observing you. Initially, he’d assumed you might be shy or reserved—perhaps because of the nervous energy that had lingered when you first met. But as you delved into your presentation, he realized just how wrong he was.

The confidence with which you spoke captivated the room. Your tone was steady yet approachable, and your words were carefully chosen to articulate your vision. You presented your design concepts with precision, highlighting the intricate details and practical functionality behind each element.

Harry leaned forward slightly in his chair, his interest piqued. The way you seamlessly balanced creativity with logic was impressive. He could tell how much thought you’d put into this project—every choice seemed deliberate, every detail purposeful.

What surprised him most, however, was your ability to command the room. You weren’t just presenting; you were selling the design, painting a picture of how the concept would come to life. And the team was eating it up.

He stole a glance around the room. His team, typically quick to interject or challenge ideas, sat quietly, nodding along with your points. Even he couldn’t help but admire the way you navigated through the questions and feedback with such ease.

When you paused for questions, Harry cleared his throat and spoke, his voice cutting through the room.

“I really appreciate the thought you’ve put into the design—it’s incredibly well-considered. I do have a question, though,” he said, his tone genuinely curious. “You mentioned incorporating natural textures into the layout. Can you elaborate on how those elements will remain modular while still maintaining their aesthetic appeal?”

You turned to him, locking eyes for a brief moment. His question wasn’t just thoughtful—it showed that he’d been paying close attention to your presentation.

“Thank you, Mr. Styles,” you began, your voice steady. “That’s a great question. For the natural textures, such as reclaimed wood and stone-inspired finishes, I’ve ensured that they’re lightweight and easily removable. The modular framework uses a system of interchangeable panels, so the aesthetic can be retained without compromising functionality.”

Harry nodded, clearly impressed. “That makes sense. And it aligns well with what we’re trying to achieve here—something unique, but also adaptable. Nicely done.”

You gave him a polite smile, though inside, his compliment sent a ripple of pride through you.

As the meeting continued, Harry couldn’t help but feel drawn to the passion and expertise you brought to your work. There was something magnetic about the way you carried yourself—so composed and articulate, yet with a spark of creativity that set you apart.

And as the session wrapped up, he found himself wondering if this serendipitous reunion might be more than just a chance encounter.

As handshakes and congratulations were exchanged, the manager gave a final nod of approval, and Harry himself followed suit, offering his praise for your presentation. It had been a resounding success.

With most of the team filing out of the room, the buzz of conversation slowly faded, leaving you alone at the conference table, still stuffing your things into your bag. You were on a high from the meeting—everything had gone so smoothly, but the exhaustion from a long day was beginning to catch up.

Suddenly, you heard a soft cough. Looking up, you were surprised to see Harry still standing near the door.

“Oh, sorry,” you said, startled. “Are there any more questions you need from me, Mr. Styles?” You quickly adjusted your posture, feeling a bit flustered.

Harry smiled, the easy warmth you remembered from your past encounter resurfacing. “You can call me Harry,” he replied with a casual, almost reassuring tone. “I’m not too big on formalities. Can I call you Y/N?”

“That’s alright with me,” you answered with a smile, pleased by the friendly tone of the conversation. It felt much more natural now that the formality had faded.

A beat of silence passed before Harry spoke again, his eyes twinkling with a hint of curiosity. “So, how long have you been eating breakfast at Feli’s Café?”

You blinked, a bit taken aback by the question. It was unexpected, but not unwelcome. “Oh, I’ve been going there for a while now. I usually grab a matcha latte and sometimes a sandwich. Feli’s a good friend of mine—she’s the one who got me hooked on her menu.”

Good thing I found your journal, your presentation was fantastic. Harry complimented.

Thank you again for giving it back. and sorry I was on a time crunch that I didn't introduce myself.

Harry chuckled softly, his expression warm.

You felt a sudden shift in the air between you two, the unspoken moment starting to surface. But before either of you could delve deeper into the conversation, a voice from the hallway interrupted the moment.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” the manager popped his head back in, looking around. “But I just wanted to confirm we’re all set for the next steps, Y/N? Can we count on you for the design rollout next week?”

You gave a nod, quickly snapping back into professional mode. “Yes, everything is in order. I'll start on the proper revisions needed for the plans."

“Perfect,” the manager smiled, satisfied. “Thanks again for your excellent work today.”

As he left the room, you turned back to Harry, who was still standing near the door, clearly reluctant to leave just yet.

“I guess I should let you get back to your day,” you said, trying to break the lingering tension. “I’ll see you around, Harry.”

Harry’s smile widened, and he nodded slowly. “Definitely.”

...

It had been a month since you completed your work for Pleasing. You scrolled through their Instagram, admiring how your designs brought their brand to life. Seeing people lining up to buy their high-quality products filled you with a deep sense of pride.

You’d only seen Harry a handful of times during the project, but he always seemed busy, caught up in meetings or surrounded by other people.

Sighing loudly, you collapsed onto your bed, letting the exhaustion of the day wash over you. You had plans to join an art market this month, where you’d sell your prints, stickers, and other handmade knickknacks. It was something to look forward to, at least.

“Will we ever meet again?” you murmured to yourself, staring up at the ceiling. “I mean, what are the chances?” You already knew the answer before you even finished the thought. Harry was probably the busiest person you’d ever met, and you were just a nobody in his world.

Your heart felt heavy as you grappled with the cold, hard reality—he might have only been a fleeting moment in your life, a beautiful memory to cherish but not something meant to last. ...

A month had passed, and Harry still hadn’t been able to properly speak with you. He had been trying—desperately, in fact. He’d gone to the café where you first met, hoping to run into you again, but you never showed up, or you came at different times. He even tried catching you after work, but you were always whisked away to other locations or surrounded by people.

In a final act of determination, Harry had even approached HR for your contact information, but they refused to give it to him. Frustrated and defeated, he began to think maybe it wasn’t meant to be.

As he walked home one evening, his eyes caught on a brightly colored poster advertising an upcoming art market at the same location he frequented. He stared at it for a moment, a flicker of hope sparking in his chest before he brushed it off with a sigh. Maybe it was time to give up. Maybe it was never destined to happen.

But something about the poster lingered in his mind—a quiet, persistent thought that made him decide, almost on impulse, to go to the market anyway. Perhaps, by some happy chance, fate would intervene.

You were busy setting up your booth in the bustling market, carefully adjusting misaligned prints and rearranging trinkets to create the perfect display. The air buzzed with chatter and laughter, the atmosphere lively as other artists greeted passersby and showcased their work.

“Your paintings are just lovely, dear,” an elderly woman remarked, her eyes sparkling as she pointed to one of your pieces.

“They really are,” her partner chimed in with a warm smile. “We could hang one in the hallway, couldn’t we?”

“Excuse me, miss,” another potential buyer interjected, holding up one of your prints. “How much is this?”

“For the A4 size, it’s 25 pounds,” you replied with a friendly smile.

More people began to gather, drawn by the charm of your artwork. You did your best to keep up, answering questions, wrapping purchases, and making small talk with the growing crowd. It was a whirlwind, but you couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride seeing so many people appreciating your work.

...

Walking through the bustling market, Harry wandered past the stalls he always loved to visit. He admired the fresh vegetables and fruits, browsed through racks of thrifted clothes, and flipped through stacks of vinyl records that always piqued his interest. But today, something different caught his attention—a special event featuring local artists who had been invited to showcase and sell their work.

As he turned toward the next stall, his eyes landed on something—or rather, someone.

It was you.

There you stood in front of your stall, surrounded by your artwork, speaking to customers with an energy that radiated warmth and passion. The light in your eyes, the way you animatedly gestured while describing your creations, the genuine smile that lit up your face—it was everything he remembered and more.

For a moment, Harry froze, rooted in place as he took it all in. You looked so at home in your element, effortlessly captivating the people around you. His heart raced, a mixture of excitement and nervousness coursing through him. But before doubt could creep in, before he could second-guess himself, he moved.

Harry started walking toward you, his steps quick and purposeful. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, but there was only one clear thought that anchored him: now or never.

This was his chance to finally talk to you—to close the distance that had been lingering between you both for far too long. He wasn’t going to let it slip away again.

...

It has been a good day so far. People were buying your prints, admiring your stickers, and complimenting your craftsmanship. You smiled to yourself, feeling content with the steady stream of visitors who appreciated your work.

Just as you reached for your water bottle, a familiar voice interrupted your thoughts.

“Hello, again, Y/N.”

You froze, the cap of your bottle slipping through your fingers. Slowly, you turned toward the source of the voice, your heart skipping a beat.

There he was—Harry. Standing there amidst the sea of market-goers, looking as effortlessly charming as ever in a white T-shirt, jeans, and sunglasses perched on his curls. His lips curved into a small, knowing smile as your eyes met.

“Harry?” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I thought it was you,” he said, stepping closer. His gaze flickered over your stall, taking in the vibrant prints and trinkets on display. “This is all yours?”

You nodded, suddenly self-conscious. “Yeah, just a little side project I do. How…how did you find me here?”

“I didn’t,” he admitted with a chuckle. “I was just wandering around, and there you were. Funny how the universe works, huh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “Yeah, funny.”

He looked around at your stall again, picking up one of your prints—a delicate watercolor of flowers intertwined with abstract shapes. “This is beautiful,” he said earnestly, his fingers brushing over the edge of the paper. “You’re really talented.”

“Thank you,” you said, warmth spreading through your chest at the compliment.

“Do you take commissions?” he asked, his tone casual but his eyes intensely focused on you.

“Sometimes,” you said, tilting your head. “Why? Are you looking for something specific?”

“I might be,” he replied cryptically, his lips curving into a playful smirk. Before you could press him further, he added, “But first, do you have a break coming up? I was thinking I could buy you a coffee.”

Your breath caught at his unexpected offer. “A coffee?”

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging like it was the simplest thing in the world. “You’ve been on my mind lately, Y/N. Thought maybe this time we could actually catch up without a room full of people or work deadlines in the way.”

Your pulse quickened as you tried to process his words. Was he really asking you out, or was this just Harry being Harry—charming and polite?

“Well,” you started, glancing at your stall. “I do have a little time before the market closes…”

“Perfect,” he said with a grin. “I’ll wait for you to pack up, or we can just grab something nearby. Whatever works for you.”

As he spoke, the faint hum of the market seemed to fade into the background. For the first time in weeks, the heavy feeling in your chest lifted just a little. Maybe this wasn’t just a fleeting moment after all.

...

Okay, this is actually too long I’ll make it into two parts. Give you guys some suspense. Thank you for reading everyone! ☺️

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himbodruid · 17 hours ago

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Promised Wildfire

Rafayel x reader

You make a trip to one of Rafayel’s exhibitions to surprise him. How will he react to the surprise? 😏

An expansion on the Promised Wildfire secret times

-:- thigh fucking -:- marking -:- you try to seduce him but he turns it back around -:- “painting”

INTENDED FOR 18+ READERS. MINORS DNI

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was a split second decision that made you seek out the hotel Rafayel was staying at, even though the original plan was to meet with him on his return to Linkon in the morning. You were sad that you had to miss the exhibition that he was the guest of honor of, but work kept you preoccupied until you got on the plane.

Getting a key to his room had been suspiciously easy, though the two of you had gone very public with your relationship a little over a month ago. It was almost impossible for you to go anywhere in Linkon without someone recognizing you because of how much he loved to show you off. But you had to wonder if he expected you to come by, and had the hotel put your name on the room too.

So you waited for him in his room, wearing nothing but the lacy negligé you’d grabbed at the last minute before leaving Linkon. You paced between the couch and bed, not sure which would be more enticing to him once he arrived back in his room. You didn’t even know when he would arrive. The show was supposed to last until late evening, but Rafayel enjoyed socializing at the after parties as well, and could be out until who knew when.

As soon as you began questioning your decision, you heard the door handle turn. You had been standing between the bedroom of the suite and the sitting area, but rushed back to the bed to perch at the edge in what you hoped would be an alluring pose.

Rafayel was on the phone, and you could see a bored expression on his face through the crack in the bedroom door. He paced the sitting area, hand on his hip and phone against his ear. He was dressed extravagantly, as usual, and you let your gaze sweep over his beautiful form, from broad shoulders to his narrow waist that fit so nicely between your thighs. You felt your face flush when he slipped out of the maroon jacket, watching his back and shoulders strain against the intricate pattern of his shirt.

“Really, Thomas?” He said, rolling his eyes. “Another last minute event?”

He listened for a moment, turning when he noticed a dim light coming from his room. He paced closer to the door and froze, brow furrowed in confusion and concern at the unexpected intrusion.

“Well, duh. Of course I can't make it. I gotta return to Linkon tomorrow- smell ya later.” He tossed the phone aside haphazardly.

“Is someone there?” His question was stern, but then his eyes widened when he stepped into the room and took in your scantily clad figure draped across his bed. A pretty blush spread across his face, even as mischief sparkled in his eyes.

“Cutie, why are you here so early?” He chuckled, striding closer to you.

“Mmm, too much time’s passed since I saw you last. I missed you.”

“You missed me sooo much that you decided to give me a surprise visit? Are we trying for a new romantic escapade here?”

“Mmmmmmaybe.” You gripped his tie and tugged him closer. His hand found your knee, deft fingers brushing your skin with feather-light touches.

“Okay, I’ll admit your surprise was perfect.”

“Is that so?” You teased him, looking up at him through your lashes. His eyes were darkened by desire and his mouth was quirked in a cheeky smile. A finger came up to smooth a trail along your neck, more of those feather touches that made you shiver and goosebumps pebble your skin.

“I’m excited,” he said, leaning down close to you. “You have no idea. It’s almost like butterflies are about to burst from my chest.”

Feeling bold, you closed the gap and kissed him gently. Just a quick, teasing press of your lips against his. He breathed a chuckle.

“Was this sneak attack also part of your surprise?”

You tried to hide your smile by biting your lower lip, but failed. His gaze zeroed in on the action before flicking back to your eyes. Another breathy chuckle escaped him.

“Ahh…your kiss couldn’t stop the butterflies from flying out of my heart.”

He crowded you against the edge of the bed, not quite crawling atop you. His arm held your legs together, hand caressing the backs of your thighs. Your breath hitched when he tilted your chin up, mouth hovering just above yours.

“But this is how you do it,” he whispered to you. And then he leaned in the rest of the way, capturing your lips in an unhurried kiss that sent heat straight to your core. His hips rolled forward and you could feel the length of him hardening against your thigh. Soft moans escaped him as he coaxed your mouth open to plunge his tongue in. You responded to him in kind, losing control of the situation every second it went on.

“Miss Bodyguard,” he murmured against your lips. His hand trailed down, down, until he found your slit between your thighs. A sharp inhale sounded when he realized you wore nothing down there to conceal yourself from him. “You’ve given me quite a surprise. How should I repay you?”

“Mmmh, how about a nice kiss,” you breathe as he continued to explore your folds, slicking your thighs with your arousal.

“Sure, I can kiss you,” he said, resting his forehead against yours.

“Let's start with just above your eyes-“ he kissed your brow, a painfully tender touch of his lips against your skin.

“Your nose-“ he kissed the very tip of your nose, causing you to giggle.

“Ears…” he dipped his head, lips lingering against the spot just below your ear. When he move back, his teeth scraped your lobe in passing. A moan escaped you, and your hands clenched his shirt and tie.

“And lips, too.” He devoured you again and you opened to him willingly, tangling your tongue with his with shared moans. His hips rocked against your thigh and you could feel him standing at full attention now, even as confined as he still was in his trousers.

“I’ll make sure to say hello to each of them,” he said. He placed his forehead against yours again, those damnably beautiful eyes of his bouncing between yours.

“It’s been so long,” he said. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Rafayel.” He groaned when you said his name, unable to keep from kissing you over and over and over again, all while his hips seemed to move of their own accord.

You shifted as his nimble fingers continued playing with your slit, but never entering you. You longed for him to slide them into you, or better yet, his cock. Your squirming didn’t go unnoticed.

“Don’t move. I want to savor this moment. I’m always scared that you’re just a figment of my imagination.” His breathy confession made your heart lurch.

“I really am here, Rafayel,” you murmur to him, nipping at his lower lip when you leaned in to kiss him. He didn’t even try to hold back his moan. You were exceptionally appreciative of how vocal he was about his pleasure, the sounds he made shooting straight to your core.

“You’re real. And warm. It’s like I’m being enveloped in a pool of water.”

You weren’t sure the metaphor was the same for him, but you sure felt like your head was swimming. So much stimulation from him, and he hadn’t even begun to have his way with you yet. You were definitely no longer in control of this seduction.

“I don’t want to let you go, I could hold you like this forever.”

“Is that so?” Feeling another wave of boldness, you all but ripped his tie from him. The action was aggressive, but still he moaned.

“What are you-“ his question was cut off when you managed to wrench his wrists together and wrapped the tie firmly around them. You gave him a self-satisfied grin, though you mourned the loss of his touch.

“When I said I wouldn’t let go,” he chuckled. “I wasn’t giving you permission to tie me up.”

He wedged himself between your knees so that he could lean over you, his bound wrists above your head. You hissed in a breath when he nipped at your neck.

“And…you did it with my own tie, no less.”

“It’s just your punishment for not coming back sooner. I’ve been waiting for you for so long,” you admonished, tapping him on the nose. He huffed a chuckle.

“Fine, fiiine. Punish me however you want, cutie.”

You tugged the tie upwards so that his hands would slide out from where he rested his weight on them. The action brought him closer to you until he was half-laying on you.

“Ouch,” he chuckled. “An artist’s wrists are precious, you know.”

His lips hovered over yours and it was a battle of wills that heightened the senses.

“But you’re very very cute, right now. I don’t mind being tied up by you.”

“Mmm so you mean I can do it more? I’ll hold you to that.”

You smoothed your hands down his chest, feeling the firmness of the muscle beneath the fabric. He let out a shaky exhale.

“This shirt is too tight. Can you help me unbutton it?”

Your fingers obediently began working at the buttons. You paced yourself, although you wanted to just rip the shirt from him. But the heated expression he gave you was worth the slow progress. You stopped half way down to touch him, running your hands down his chest and back up.

“It's still too tight…keep unbuttoning it,” he demanded breathily. And so you did. But you didn’t stop at just his shirt. A grin spread across your face when you unbuttoned and unzipped his dress slacks.

He closed his eyes when you palmed him through fabric at first, his breathing becoming laboured when you freed his cock fully and stroked him. He pressed his hips forward to chase your touch when your hand slid to the tip of him. Moaned when you pressed your thumb against the underside of his glans. You were enjoying the flush of his pretty face, the breathlessness, the way his body reacted to your touch. Maybe you could regain control of the situation, after all.

“You broke the rules,” he groaned. He took your legs and lifted, placing your calves against his shoulders while you stroked him faster. “Getting straight to the point, huh?”

You continued to work at his cock, and he watched while placing kisses against your ankles and calves. His moans grew in intensity before he suddenly jerked back, out of your grip.

“Okay, you can stop now..” he whined.

“Rafayel?” His name fell from your lips in a breathier moan than you intended.

“We’ve only been separated for a few days. And you somehow managed to become so bold.”

He shifted your legs again so that both of them rested together on a single shoulder. He pulled you so that you lay flush against him where he stood at the edge of the bed, the lingerie bunching up to expose even more of your curves to him. Your newly unoccupied hands turned to grip at the sheets above you while he looked down at you with a predatory glint in his eye.

“Then..does that mean I can also be a little bold… and spice things up?” His chuckle turned into a sigh of longing. You noticed, then, the tie dangling from only one of his wrists.

“Wait, how did you break free?” You were quickly relinquishing control back to him, it seemed.

“That’s something I can’t tell you. A slippery fish like me can’t be caught so easily.” He let out a breathy chuckle at his silly little rhyme and positioned himself. But he didn’t enter your slicked folds. Instead his cock pressed between your thighs, just above your mound.

“R-Rafayel,” his name came from you on a pleasured breath.

“At this point,” he said, drawing his hips back and then pressing forward into your thighs again. “Begging or running away won't help.”

The sight of him fucking your thighs was nearly your end. Beautiful man that he was, it was never something you would have expected from him. Especially not when you were trying to seduce him. He did a very fine job at turning this seduction back on you and you shivered in anticipation.

“I forgot to turn on the AC…it’ll be hot in here soon enough.” With that, his thrusts into your thighs became long strokes punctuated by his moans. He turned his head to kiss wherever he could on your legs. Your heart thundered in your chest watching him take pleasure from such a simple thing, and you could feel heat building in your core rapidly. This explained why he was insistent in spreading your natural lubricant along the backside of your thighs only moments prior.

Every few thrusts, his gaze would snap to yours. And every time it did, your breath would hitch at the intensity you saw there. He was enjoying this as much as you were, and you were almost certain he knew the sounds he made were driving you insane. Watching him pleasure himself on you was one thing, but every single one of his moans shot straight through you until you couldn’t hold back your own sounds.

And then his hips jerked forward almost violently, his release spilling onto your stomach and pelvis with a hissed moan from him. It was the single most arousing thing you had experienced, and you couldn’t help squirming under him even as he gripped your thighs to keep you still.

“I only touched this and you’re already flushed,” he teased, squeezing your thighs in his grasp before letting go. He slid your legs from his shoulder, opening you to him completely once more. His cock rested heavy against your pelvis, still hard as he took in the mess he made of you.

“I guess Miss Bodyguard is a blank canvas,” he said. He reached down, flattening a hand against your stomach and spreading his seed further against your skin.

“Mmh. I painted a masterpiece on your body, and only I get to admire it.”

He pulled away from you then to shed the rest of his clothing, barely breaking eye contact with you as he did. You shifted backwards onto the bed as he crawled over you until you both rested in the center. His weight pressing you into the mattress, his cock waiting eagerly at your entrance..it was all almost too much for you and you shuddered with anticipation again. You looked down and saw his sculpted stomach resting against yours without a single regard for the mess that slicked there.

“What if I wanna see how beautiful your painting is?” You whined, biting your lip. He chuckled, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

“It’s not finished, yet,” he said, thrusting into you with a guttural moan. Your arousal was at such heights that he glided in without the need to adjust to his size. And you were glad for that, because you wanted him viscerally. You were feral for him, and you wrapped your legs around his hips to lock him to you.

You knew he could feel your need because he set a punishing pace. His mouth roamed your body even as his hips collided with you over and over. Your moans mingled with his, rising to duet the lewd sounds of him pistoning in and out of you.

And then his mouth latched onto your neck, sucking the spot until he was satisfied a mark would be there for some time. He could already see it purpling when he finally let go, and he groaned at the sight.

“I wanna leave my mark here,” he kissed the mark he made.

“And there.” He latched onto your collarbone to draw up another.

“Yes…everywhere,” he moaned when he saw his new mark. And so he went about leaving a trail of those marks while he thrust into you. The sensations surrounding you were overwhelming and all you could do was cling to him.

“Mmmh, oh fu-“ he breathed, freezing and trying to pull from you.

“No,” you growled, locking your ankles so he couldn’t. “Inside.”

“In that case,” he said, thrusting forward. Hard. “I willingly surrender myself to you.”

And so he did. His thrusts grew erratic as he chased his release. Your own built and overflowed so rapidly, all you could do was cry out his name and dig your nails into him. The fluttering pulse of your climax wrapped around his cock was just the push he needed. His hips twitched and his body jerked as he flooded you, whining moans escaping him at the overwhelming rush of sensations.

When you finally came down from the high, your lips lazily found his again. He kissed you in such a painfully tender way, nuzzling into your neck between such kisses. It took some time before either of you could breathe without heavy panting, and you reveled in the way his body continued to press yours into the luxurious mattress.

Your eyes roamed him, taking in every detail of the moment to lock it away in your memories. Your eyes fell on the various marks dotting your body and a thrill jolted through you. You liked being marked by him. Being claimed in such a primal way. And yet..

“Mm, this is unfair,” you said. He pulled back to look at you with confusion in his eyes.

“What is?”

“All these marks on me and not a single one on you!” You feigned a pout and he snorted a laugh, relaxing back into you.

“Well then. You could leave a mark on me, right? It’ll be yours.”

And so you did. Your mouth found his neck and latched on, drawing your own mark up against his skin. His moan was a whimper in your ear and his hips pressed forward again. He was panting, moaning, whining, squirming as your mouth remained secured to his neck. When you finally let him go, he whimpered a soft ‘ow’.

“You’re greedy, aren’t you?” He asked, breathless.

“Mmmh, yup,” you say, your mouth finding his chest to leave another mark there.

“Making me surrender isn’t enough?” He whined.

“I want to leave my mark on you, too,” you say when you release him once more.

“All right then,” he said, tilting his head to the side to give you better access to his neck. “Don’t miss a single spot.”

You left your own trail of marks as he took you again. You were surprised to find that even after his second climax, he was still hard inside you. Every mark that you left on his skin was met by his shuddering, breathy moans. If you tried to stop, an adorable pout would entice you back to your task, all the way until he thrust deep into you again with a guttural moan signalling his release.

You rested with him for some time, a companionable silence spreading between you. He laid atop you, arms wrapped around you with his ear against your chest so he could listen to your heartbeat. You let your hand card through his soft waves in a tender touch. You were certain he’d fallen asleep at some point, but then he sat up and tugged you off the bed with him.

He carried you into the bathroom, stripping the lingerie you were wearing, running the bath and kissing you while waiting for the tub to fill. And then he gently lowered you into the bath, the water hot enough to almost scald- it was perfect. He remained outside the claw foot tub, pampering and caring for you- brushing your hair, using a soft cloth on every inch of your skin, etc. The pout he gave when he realized that he’d washed away the seed he spilled on your abdomen made you laugh. You leaned in, giving him a kiss. A kiss he quickly took over, plunging his tongue into your mouth.

Next thing you knew, he was in the tub with you, pumping into you again and making the water slosh over the edges. Your voices echoed in the tiled room as he took you again and again. You were sure you would be leaking his cum for days by the time he was done with you.

“No more,” you begged him with quivering limbs after he carried you back to bed, and utilized your overstimulation to bring out yet another climax with his skilled tongue. “Rafayel, I can’t take any more.”

He chuckled and relented. He wrapped himself around you, spooning you against him and laying the comforter over you. He buried his nose against the back of your neck, inhaling deeply. He enjoyed the smell of his scent mixed with yours on your skin, another way that he was able to claim you.

The warmth of his embrace lulled you into sleep as the sun began to peek over the horizon.

#l&ds rafayel #rafayel x reader #lads rafayel #rafayel #rafayel fic #rafayel smut #lads fic #lads smut #lads x reader #love and deepspace fic #love and deepspace rafayel

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celebtf · 24 hours ago

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TOM, THE LOOK-ALIKE AND THE SPIDER-SUIT

Jordan Johnson had built a small but loyal following online. His TikTok account had hundreds of thousands of followers, all captivated by one thing: his uncanny resemblance to Tom Holland.

From lip-syncing iconic Spider-Man lines to recreating Tom’s interviews, Jordan’s content thrived on the illusion. Fans bombarded his comment sections with excitement.

“OMG, you look EXACTLY like him!”

“Are you SURE you’re not his twin?”

“Better than the real thing!”

At first, the attention was exhilarating. Jordan leaned into the role, perfecting Tom’s mannerisms, studying his accent, and even buying clothes that matched Tom’s public appearances.

But as time went on, the praise began to sting.

“You’re just a look-alike,” one comment read. “Cool, but… you’re not him.”

Jordan’s content, once fun, became a bitter reminder of his second-place position in life. People loved him, but only because he reminded them of someone else. He wasn’t Jordan Johnson. He was “Fake Tom.”

The tipping point came when someone stopped him on the street.

“Oh my God, it’s you!” the stranger squealed, pulling out their phone. “I love your Spider-Man movies!”

Jordan opened his mouth to correct them but stopped. What was the point?

The fan took a selfie, thanked him, and walked away without a second glance.

Jordan stood there, seething.

“I’m done being second best,” he muttered under his breath.

That night, staring at the ceiling of his tiny apartment, Jordan came to a decision. He didn’t just want to look like Tom Holland. He wanted to be Tom Holland. And he would do whatever it took to make that happen.

For weeks, Jordan meticulously researched Tom Holland’s life. Social media posts, interviews, paparazzi photos—he gathered every scrap of information he could find. He learned Tom’s routines, his favorite coffee shop, even the layout of his home.

A plumbing issue Tom had mentioned in a recent interview gave Jordan the perfect in. He forged a work order, bought a janitor’s uniform, and prepared a special sedative designed to weaken Tom—just enough to make him vulnerable.

Jordan didn’t just want to meet Tom. He wanted to take everything from him—his fame, his fortune, his

Jordan’s hands trembled as he knocked on the door of Tom’s London home.

The door opened, and there he was. The real Tom Holland.

“Hello? Can I help you?” Tom asked, his voice warm and polite.

Jordan forced a smile. “I’m here to fix the pipes. Routine maintenance.”

Tom hesitated, then nodded. “Alright. Come in.”

Jordan followed him inside, clutching his toolbox tightly. Tom led him to the bathroom, chatting casually about the plumbing issue. Jordan nodded along, barely listening, his focus on the small vial hidden in his toolbox.

After a few minutes of fake tinkering, he made his move.

“Hey, before I go, do you mind if we take a photo? Big fan,” Jordan asked, feigning nervousness.

Tom chuckled. “Sure! Let me grab my phone.”

“No need,” Jordan said, pulling out his own. They posed for the photo, and Jordan snapped it, his smirk barely concealed.

“Thanks, mate,” he said, slipping the sedative into the faucet’s filter. He turned the water on, letting it run clear before leaving the room.

But he didn’t leave the house. Instead, he waited just outside the bathroom door, listening.

It didn’t take long. Jordan heard a sharp gasp, followed by the sound of something heavy hitting the floor. He pushed the door open slightly and peered inside.

Tom was on his knees, clutching the sink, his face pale and drenched in sweat. His veins glowed faintly blue and red, spider-like patterns spreading across his skin.

“What’s… happening?” Tom choked, his voice trembling.

His muscles tensed and convulsed as the transformation took hold. The glow intensified, and the veins began to shift, forming the outlines of a Spider-Man suit. Tom’s skin seemed to liquefy, merging with the red and blue fabric that now covered his body.

Jordan watched, mesmerized, as Tom’s features softened. His face disappeared beneath the mask, his body shrinking slightly, losing its humanity.

Within moments, Tom was gone. Where he had been stood a perfect Spider-Man suit, limp and lifeless on the floor.

Jordan stepped inside, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Incredible,” he whispered, crouching beside the suit. He ran his fingers over the fabric, feeling its strange, almost organic texture.

“This is it,” he murmured, standing up and beginning to undress.

Jordan slid one leg into the suit, gasping as a surge of energy shot through him. His muscles tensed, growing stronger and more defined.

He pulled the suit over his thighs and waist, shivering as his body began to change. His stomach hardened into chiseled abs, his chest broadened, and his arms thickened with new strength.

“Unreal,” he whispered, flexing his hands as they grew larger, the veins more prominent.

He zipped up the suit, feeling it mold perfectly to his body. Finally, he pulled the mask over his face.

A warmth spread through him, and he felt his face shift. His cheekbones sharpened, his jawline squared, and his voice deepened into Tom’s unmistakable accent.

Jordan pulled off the mask and stared into the mirror.

“Holy…” He touched his face, his heart racing. The reflection was perfect. He was no longer Jordan Johnson.

He was Tom Holland.

Jordan turned to the empty space on the floor where the suit had been.

“Look at you now,” he sneered. “The great Tom Holland, reduced to nothing but fabric. You’re part of me now.”

He flexed his new muscles, admiring his reflection in the mirror.

“I’ll take your roles, your fans, your fame,” he said, his voice dripping with malice. “I’ll live your life better than you ever could. And no one will ever know.”

He adjusted the mask, slipping it back over his face.

“Thanks for the life, mate,” he said, his tone cruel. “I think I’ll enjoy it.”

With that, he walked out of the bathroom, now the star the world adored, leaving the real Tom behind—trapped forever as the suit Jordan now wore.

#celebrity tf #body swap #celebtf #transformation #gay #male body suit #malebody swap #male shapeshift #body switch #character transformation #tom holland #jordan johnson #spiderman #lookalike #inanimate tf #spider-suit

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gretavangroupie · 2 days ago

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Bluebird Lane - Chapter Three

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Female Reader

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: Cursing, Alcohol Consumption, Angst, Pining, Sexual Themes, Kissing, Touching.

A/N: Six months later... I am so sorry this took so long, and I promise the next chapter will be coming a lot sooner than this one did. Thanks for sticking it out with me! Also, a gigantic, massive thank you to @gretavanmoon and @builtbybrokenbells for endlessly encouraging me with this one and daydreaming with me. Thanks for reading!

JAKE POV

The sound of the neighbor's lawn mower wakes you from your sleep far earlier than you planned. You roll to your side, pushing your hair out of your face as you tap your sound machine to shut off the white noise. The clock reads 7:51AM and the sun is shining through the slats of your blinds, warming the room despite the best efforts of your ceiling fan. You grab your phone from your nightstand, trying to open your eyes wide enough that face ID will work, blinking away the sleep and stretching out your stiff legs. You scroll through your notifications, looking for anything pressing but feel a wave of relief wash over you when you see that there is nothing on the calendar for you today.

You roll out of your bed, tossing the sheets and duvet over the spot you were laying in before, grabbing your sweats and sliding them over your legs. You drag yourself to the bathroom, seeing that her bedroom door is still closed and no sound is coming from behind it. She’s still asleep. Your mind flashes back to last night and the way she tasted on your lips, the softness of her skin, and the sound of her laugh.

After brushing your teeth you make your way to the kitchen, digging around in the pantry for the coffee beans and filters so that you can start your day. You dump in the pre-grinded beans and press brew, knowing that in a few minutes the house will fill with the aroma of coffee. You settle on the couch with your phone in hand, scrolling through your socials and replying to a few texts as the coffee pot starts to brew. A few minutes later it beeps, pulling your attention away from your phone as it drags you into the kitchen. You pull a mug from the cabinet and pour in the steaming hot coffee, breathing in deeply the rich smell. This mug is from Arizona, clay colored with a turquoise Kokopelli on the front. You remember the struggle of hauling it around with you on that tour so many years ago, but somehow it made the trip and now several moves.

You hear the soft padding of feet in the hallway and a flutter rises in your chest. You turn to look at her, simultaneously pulling a mug down from the cabinet for her. As she rounds the corner you see her, still in her tiny pajamas and with sleepy eyes. She crosses her arms across her chest as she speaks.

“Do I smell coffee?” she squeaks, her voice still waking up for the day.

“You do,” you answer, nodding her over. You pour the mug full of coffee and extend it to her, instantly wondering if she likes anything in it. “How do you like your coffee?”

She accepts the mug from your hand, grabbing it with both of hers. “Just creamer. I will pick some up at the store later today,” she pauses, “Thank you for this.”

“Of course,” you urge, “Can’t start my day without it.”

She leans her hip into the edge of the counter, sipping from the edge of the mug as silence falls over the two of you. You know it's now or never, so you take a deep breath and clear your throat.

“Listen,” you start, leaning on the counter to mimic her position. “I’m– Sorry about last night, I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what came over me and I feel as though I overstepped a boundary.”

Her face flushes pink as she listens, biting her lips together as her eyes search yours. “Oh, it’s…It’s no big deal Jake. It’s fine, you don’t need to apologize. It was a tiny kiss, barely anything.”

You swallow harshly as you remember it differently. “It was just the heat of the moment I suppose. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. Just wanted to make sure we are okay, I guess,” you continue.

“Yeah, absolutely,” she says, “No big deal.” You can see her holding back on what she really wants to say, but you don’t want to push.

“Yeah, okay, yeah. No big deal.” you confirm. You both stand awkwardly looking at each other, the tension in the room growing larger and larger by the second. Her eyes flick over to the clock hanging on the wall, a wave of panic washing over her.

“I have to go get ready for work…” she pauses, “Thank you for the coffee.”

You suddenly feel guilty about your late night. “I didn’t know you worked today. I shouldn’t have kept you up so late last night.”

She smiles, a small giggle leaving her lips. “You didn’t keep me up, I chose to stay up. And I only have two clients today. Should be a short day.”

You find yourself wishing you were one of them. To lay on her table and feel her hands on you, working away at the tense muscles in your body. Fuck, it sounds good. You shake your head of the thoughts, refocusing on her as she walks down the hallway, shutting her bedroom door behind her.

Your mind swirls back to last night as you look out the kitchen window. The sun is shining brightly into the backyard, a few birds chirping in the Oak tree as your neighbor finishes up their lawn. Then, part of the conversation settles within you. Her garden. She wants to plant a garden here. And as you watch the bugs fly around outside the window an idea strikes you. Suddenly your free day is now filled with a plan.

—

HER POV

The drive to work is short, but that doesnt keep your mind from racing with the memories of last night. Every moment, big and small, replaying on the ten minute drive. His lips, his eyes, his touch, his laugh. Everything all at once right in the middle of Saturday morning farmers market traffic. Your heart rate picks up as you let the feeling of his lips on yours take center stage, though, the horn honking from the car behind you pulls you from the daydream.

You make the turn into the parking lot, having your choice of parking space today. After a few minutes you’re unlocking the front door and turning on the lights, bathing the small reception area in warm light. As you wait for the computer to power on, you check your phone, seeing a few missed texts that you take mental note of to respond to later. Quiet music begins to play through the speakers of the building as the booking software opens on the computer screen. You confirm your two appointments for the day, seeing that one is a new customer, and one is a return customer. Though, it's the last name of the return customer that has your heart beating out of your chest.

It couldn’t be. Right?

Before you can confirm, the front door opens and a woman walks in. Older and gray, she hobbles through the small lobby and up to the reception desk.

“Mrs. Sandborn?” you ask, confirming it’s your first client and not a walk in.

“Yes, dear,” she smiles kindly. You can tell she is a sweet woman and that this appointment is going to be a breeze. The session is only thirty minutes long and you find she wants special attention paid to her lumbar area.

Just as you thought the appointment slipped by in the blink of an eye as you got to know the woman and heard a bit of her life story as you worked on her aching back. She thanks you profusely as she leaves, making a return appointment for a few weeks from now.

You see it’s not long before your second session with your returning client, and once again your pulse starts to race as you realize this client is likely very related to your new roommate. The thought has your palms sweating as you work to sanitize your work room, laying out new linens and checking the clients preferred diffuser scent for his session.

The bell on the front door alerts you of his presence, and with a deep breath you shake away your nerves, walking into the lobby to meet him. His long dark hair is tied up at his neck as a beaming smile crosses his face. There is no doubt he is related to Jake, you can see it now clear as day and you know this hour long session will be the longest of your life.

“Hi Mr. Kiszka, great to see you again.”

A smirk pulls his smile to the side as he gives you a subtle nod, “You can call me Sam.”

—

Your mind is still racing as you weave through the midday traffic on your way home. You learned quite a few new things about your new roommate, whether you wanted to or not. You didn’t dare tell him that Jake is your roommate, not wanting to cross the line of professionalism, and honestly because you kind of wanted to hear what he had to say while still under the veil of anonymity. The hour seemed to move at a glacial pace as he told you of life on the road, new projects, and upcoming adventures he had planned with his brothers. But now, finally as you drive home you are able to put it past you, ready to spend the rest of the day at home decompressing, alone.

As you pull up to your house though, you notice Jake is actually still around, and working on something on the side of the house. You feel your pulse quicken as you catch a glimpse of him shoveling dirt, his t-shirt soaked through with sweat as the Tennessee sun beats down on him in the heat of the day. His black sunglasses sit low on his nose as he works, shoveling dirt into a wheelbarrow. His hair is twisted into a knot at the back of his head, a few sweaty strands escaping from his exertion.

Curious as to what exactly he is doing, you find yourself stepping out of your car and walking across the grassy lawn. You’re hesitant at first, still feeling a bit unsure about everything after last night, but you swallow down your anxiety as you step up to the side of the wheelbarrow.

With your bag slung over your shoulder, you jut your hip out to the side as you finally speak, “What–What exactly are you doing?”

His head snaps up from his shovel, and he flicks his sunglasses up on his head, surprised to see you.

“Shit, you’re home earlier than I expected.”

“Huh?” you question.

“Well, I wanted to get it done before you got home, but, I guess…” he pauses, running his glove covered hand over his dirty face. “Surprise, here’s your garden,” he smirks, “Or what will be your garden.”

“Mine?” you ask, genuinely taken aback.

“Figured it’s the least I could do for you before I leave,” he answers, resting his arm on top of the shovel.

Shock makes its way through your body, and you’re positive that no one has ever done anything this kind, let alone thoughtful, for you.

A huge grin spreads across his face as he takes in your look of surprise. “So, you know what you want to plant here?”

You swallow quickly, shaking your head to clear your thoughts, “Yeah, I mean– yeah it’s summer, there’s a lot I can plant right now.” you stammer. “But– I don't have any seeds or–”

“I know,” he interrupts, “I thought…I know of this local plant nursery nearby. I could…take you?” He seems nervous to ask, and continues. “It’s kinda over near my office and I'm sure they have seeds and stuff. I pass it every day.”

“Sure,” you answer all too quickly. “It would need to be soon though, so that they have time to root and everything.”

He looks down to the perfect rectangle of tilled dirt as he smiles to himself, “Yeah. Yeah let me get cleaned up a little bit and we can… go now? If you want?”

“Oh, um, s-sure.” you answer, the initial shock now being replaced by the surprise of his forwardness.

“Cool, give me a minute. I’ll drive.” he smiles, leaning his shovel against the side of the house before sauntering across the yard and through the front door.

You stand there staring at this patch of dirt, in the perfect spot for a garden. You didn’t know he knew much about gardening, his brother failing to mention that detail during today's session. You mentally go over your list of summer vegetables, trying to decide what would be best for the space.

Seconds later you hear the front door closing, and see Jake locking the door behind himself.

“You ready?” he asks, the past ten minutes a whirlwind of events.

“Yeah,” you answer with a smile as you head towards his Jeep. He opens the door for you, helping you inside, his hands still a bit dirty from his work. He joins you seconds later, starting the car and pulling away from the curb.

“How was work?” he asks, so casual for someone you only just met.

“It was good actually, just a short day, but um, your brother Sam was my last client.” you say nervously.

“What?” he asks, his head snapping over to the side.

“Yeah, I’ve seen him once before but I didn’t know you then. I saw his name on my schedule today and figured it had to be your brother, but when I saw him I knew for sure.” you admit.

“Wha–what did he say?” he asks, seemingly nervous. “Did he say anything about me, or?”

“Oh uh, nothing really,” I lie, not ready to disclose some of the things I learned in the hour-long session. “There isn’t a whole lot of talking during the appointments.”

He seems satisfied with that answer, dropping it with the shake of his head and a huff of annoyance.

It’s quiet between the two of you for a few minutes, just the sound of the engine and the faint sound of the radio playing. You decide to break the silence, a question eating you alive.

“How did you know where to dig? That is the best spot in the whole yard.” you ask. “I had no idea you were into gardening.”

“I mean, I’m not. I did a little bit of research after you told me you wanted a garden here.” he answers, peering over at you beneath his dark lenses.

“That was just last night…How did you–”

“Just wanted to do something nice for you. Only took a little bit of reading.” he grins, turning his attention back to the road. “Was worth it.”

“Well, thank you. Truly.” you breathe, letting a kind smile turn your lips.

“Of course,” he answers, his tone the same as yours. Soft.

—

“How about zucchini?” you ask, “Do you like zucchini?”

“Love it, one of my favorites,” Jake replies, plucking the seed packet from the wooden stand. He has an entire handful of different seeds, insisting you plant them all.

“We can’t do too many! It will be too crowded!” you laugh, scanning the rack of packets.

He shrugs his shoulders and smiles, as he grabs a few more packets of common herbs. Your eyes wander around the quaint nursery spotting a wire rack of plants on their last legs, brown and withering away for a severely reduced price. When you spot the sad looking tomato plant you tilt your head to the side and wander towards it.

Your fingers graze its sad, wilted leaves, only one lone and tiny tomato bud on its puny stem. The soil is dry, and you can tell it has been neglected in its short life. You feel Jake walk up behind you, taking in the sight just the same as you.

“I think I’m gonna save it,” you say, turning to meet his eyes. He looks at you like you’re crazy turning to look back at the entire row of strong and healthy tomato plants just behind the two of you.

“Why that one? There are about a hundred great ones we could get.” he says, gesturing with his head.

“No, this one is so sad. It needs its underdog story,” you pause, grabbing the frail plant. “I’m saving him.”

A grin pulls across his lips as he gently shakes his head, “Okay. Whatever you want, as long as I get to eat the tomatoes.”

You smile and nod, “So you think I can do it…” you say cheekily.

“What?” he questions, walking the two of you towards the hose attachments.

“Save him.” you answer.

“Oh, well, yeah. I guess so.” he grins shyly, plucking a new sprayer nozzle from the shelf. “I think I’m going to enjoy watching you try.”

“Oh, well, I thought you knew…” you continue, watching as he shoots you a confused look. “This is a big commitment, you know, becoming tomato parents. It will take the both of us. Are you sure you’re up for that kind of commitment?” you say playfully.

He pretends to be unsure as he taps his fingers against his lips, “Well, I guess I’m gonna have to be, aren’t I? I can’t let you raise him alone.”

“I think so.” you giggle.

He smiles at you with a brief pause as he looks at the pitiful plant, and then to you, “Then let's pay for him and get him home.”

—

JAKE POV

“Was that the last of the pack?” you ask, watching as Y/N places the last of the cucumber seeds into the ground. The sun is starting to dip below the trees, your daylight nearly gone. You worked all afternoon planting the seeds in the fresh soil, a smile plastered to your face as you talked and laughed at each other's handiwork throughout the process. Her tomato plant, which you named Heinz, was placed in its new home on the front porch, pruned and watered and ready to begin its journey back to full health.

“Yep, that’s all of ‘em,” she grins, dusting off her dirty hands on her denim shorts.

You take that as your cue to try out the new spray nozzle you bought for the hose, wanting it to be as easy as possible to water the garden bed. She starts to gently tap her shoe on the dirt, making sure it's packed down as you turn on the spigot and hear the water start to flow.

You pull the trigger on the nozzle and a few drizzles of water start to flow through the head. You begin to spray the patch of dirt, watering your newly planted herbs and vegetables for the first time. Y/N steps back, crossing her arms across her chest as she watches you. Just as she looks away you aim the spray at her, hitting her arms with the cold faucet water.

“Jake!” she squeals, your playful action taking her by surprise. She pushes her sunglasses up onto her head and shakes off her wet arms.

“What?” you ask, a cheeky grin on your face as you spray her again in a different place.

This time her jaw drops as she starts to walk over to you, ready to turn the tables. You back away, holding the water house out of her reach as she tries to wrestle it away from you. She puts up a valiant fight, but it’s just not enough.

“Okay, okay, you’re right. I’m sorry. That was my bad.” you lie, waiting for her to retreat just enough, and she does, stepping back and turning her attention back to the water that is now flowing onto the ground.

But you don’t concede that easily. As soon as she feels safe, you spray her again, knocking her sunglasses off of her head.

“Jacob!” she shouts, this time running at you full force and ripping the nozzle from your hands before you can stop her. Instantly you are soaked with water from the hose, the two of you fighting each other for the upper hand between sprays of cold water.

You finally regain control of the water hose as the two of you laugh, now completely soaking wet. You let the spray hit her face, and that is her final straw as she tackles you to the ground in order to end this water war.

“You are terrible!” she laughs, still doing her best to grab the hose from you. But sadly for her, you are stronger and find yourself rolling her to her back on the muddy grass as you hold the hose out of her reach.

You are both dripping wet and mud covered as you hover over her, your smiles a mirror image of each other as you both breathe heavily trying to catch your breath. It’s then that you take her in, in her most raw, vulnerable state as she lays beneath you. You stare at her for a moment, everything silent between the two of you as the hose continues to run.

Without warning, your hand moves up to swipe away a muddy drip of water from her cheek, softly and probably far too tenderly for a pair of roommates. Before you can pull your hand from her warm, wet skin, you feel her fingers move to grip at the back of your neck, pulling you down to her as she presses her lips to yours.

You’re instantly transported back to last night. Back to that first sweet kiss shared between the two of you. Her lips ignite the same feeling as they did then, soft and electric, but this time wet.

It’s her that initiated this kiss. It’s her that wants this, and so you take that as your green flag to descend deeper into it, kissing her back the way you’ve thought about every second since last night. You let your muddy, wet hand cradle her cheek, your thumb balancing on the curve of her chin.

You feel yourself relax a bit, really feeling the moment of this kiss. You feel a vibration against your lips as she lets the smallest whine leave her mouth and flow into yours, her tongue beginning to part your lips. Her free hand finds its way to your back, her fist gripping your soaked t-shirt, as her other hand tangles into the hair at the base of your neck.

She tastes how you imagined, stronger than she did last night, and you want more. Your hand slides down her neck as you use your thumb to tilt her chin higher. Your left hand is still supporting your weight above her as she lays in the grass below. You want to get closer, but you don’t want to move too quickly. You’re happy with this, and you’re willing to take whatever she will give you.

You feel her try to pull you closer, her tongue moving further into your mouth as your own groan leaves your lips. Her wet leg slides against your own and you want nothing more than to feel her naked skin against yours. You almost let yourself settle on top of her, but a passing car pulls you both from the heated moment, placing you both back in your front yard.

“Fuck,” you breathe, pulling away from her quickly as you realize what exactly had happened. She too, sits up quickly, adjusting her wet clothes and wiping her lips of the taste of you. Yet again you have thrown yourself at this woman, and are left in an awkward situation.

You stand to your feet and adjust your pants, hoping to conceal the fact that you are hard beneath them. You run your hand over your chin as you look at her, feeling terrible for what happened in the heat of the moment.

“I’m sorry,” you start, a deeper tone taking over your voice, “We shouldn’t be doing this.” It’s the absolute last thing you want to be saying to her, your attraction to her growing tenfold over the course of the day.

She stares up at you in shock, or maybe embarrassment, you can’t be too sure. But embarrassment is the last thing she should feel. You haven’t been kissed like that in quite some time. She stands quickly, shielding her hard nipples with crossed arms. She nods and doesn’t say much, and for some reason, it makes you feel worse.

“We should um, go get cleaned up,” you say, hoping to break the tension. “You can grab the first shower, I’ll clean up out here.”

She nods and starts to walk towards the door, stopping quickly as she calls your name. “Jake?”

“Yeah?” you answer hopefully.

“Thanks for doing all this.” she says quietly, before disappearing into the shared home.

—

As you make your way back into the house you notice the quiet. Her bedroom door is shut, and you can’t hear a single sound from behind it. You figured she would be in the shower by now. You walk to the kitchen sink, washing the mud from your hands before attempting to touch anything else in the house. The dirt swirls down the drain as you finally hear her bedroom door open, and the quick closing of the bathroom door.

You take this as your chance to head to your bedroom, finding your phone laying on the bed, where it has been for the last several hours. Truth be told you forgot about its existence until this exact moment. You strip yourself of your muddy clothes before reaching for it, perching yourself on the edge of the bed as the screen lights up in your hands.

Missed Call: Sam

You bite your lips together as you decide whether or not to call him back, but eventually decide to fill your mind with something other than the girl in the shower. You hit his contact letting the call ring out as you hold it to your ear. He answers on the second ring.

“Dude, where have you been?” he asks as he answers the call.

“Sorry, I was doing some stuff in the yard here. What’s up?” you answer.

“Nothing too much, thought maybe we could get a drink or something later…”

Fuck yeah, thats exactly what you need.

“You know what? Yeah, I actually need to speak to you dammit.” you growl out, fully planning to interrogate him about his little session with Y/N earlier.

“About?” he asks, as if not knowing.

“I think you know. I’ll see you at Rack Em’ in about an hour?” you confirm.

“See you then.” he says, ending the call.

A few minutes later you hear her coming out of the bathroom, her figure a blur of blue towel and wet hair as she dashes across the hallway. You let out a deep breath as you pull yourself up off your bed and make your way into the bathroom, ready to shower away the mud and sweat from your skin.

You grab your towel before stepping into the bathroom, the air still steamy and smelling of her sweet body wash as you enter. You feel yourself start to grow hard just from the smell alone. You start the shower with a growl, pissed at yourself for letting her have this effect on you. For consuming your mind this quickly.

You cannot do this. She is your roommate.

Your really sexy roommate whose lips were on yours mere minutes ago.

As you step beneath the spray you push all the thoughts of her and everything that happened outside to the back of your mind, showering as quickly as possible, desperate to get out of the house and away from her before you make anything worse.

You dress quickly, pulling a few staple items from your closet and sliding into your boots. You run your fingers through your hair and give yourself a spray of cologne as you pocket your phone, keys and wallet. Your eyes flick over to see her bedroom door is still closed. You briefly consider knocking to let her know you’re leaving, but decide to just let things be and really drive home the point that the two of you are roommates and that's it. No matter if it pains you just a little.

You decide to get to the bar early, giving yourself time to sort out your thoughts before Sam arrives. The last thing you need is for him to catch wind of your feelings that have begun to blossom with Y/N. You throw back a shot of tequila, feeling the burn as it travels down your throat and warms your stomach. You can’t seem to shake the thought of the kiss from your mind, though. Or the feeling of her hands gripping your shirt, or the sounds she made. Fuck. You need another shot.

As the bartender slides you another, you see Sam walking through the door and you wave him down to the corner spot at the bar.

“You started without me?” he laughs, feigning sadness.

“Couldn’t wait on you all night,” you grin, tossing back the clear liquor.

“Tequila?” he asks, taking the empty seat next to you.

“The one and only,” you answer, nodding at the bartender as you signal for two more. “Now, why don’t you tell me about your little massage this morning, hm?”

He smiles a cheeky smile, “I wondered if she was going to tell you.”

“She mentioned it. Casually.” you say, tossing back another shot. “The fuck did you say?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he laughs, taking his own shot, but following with a lime wedge. “Just told her your whole life story and every embarrassing fact about you.”

“Fuck you, no you didn’t,” you warn with a deeper voice.

“No, calm down.” he says as if exhausted. “Just talked about band stuff. She never even mentioned that she was your roommate, but I will say she has magic hands.”

“Fuck off, Sam.”

“Oh, you sound a little jealous there, brother.” he taunts.

“Not jealous. I just– It’s weird. You being her client. That’s all.” you answer.

“Mhmm.” he hums, giving you a knowing look.

Of course at that exact moment your phone lights up on the bar top, a message from ‘Girlfriend’ displaying across the screen in big bold letters. You try to grab it before Sam notices, but you’re too late as a smile spreads across his face.

“Huh, is that right?” he taunts, elbowing your side.

“No. it’s not what you think. I had to put her in my phone like that– Our landlord thinks–Actually I don’t have to explain this to you. It’s not like that. It’s just a lie we are telling the landlord because she is too nice to tell him otherwise.” you ramble.

“Yeah, uh huh. Sure sounds like it's like that.” he answers, fully unbelieving of your explanation.

You do decide to spare a glance at her text, opening it as Sam orders another drink.

Girlfriend

8:56PM: Did you leave?

You

8:59PM: Yeah, be back late.

You keep it short and sweet and as neutral as possible, when truth be told, everything in you wants to tell her that you were just out with your brother for drinks and that you would be home soon. But you felt that was too much information for two people who just shared the same house. She didn’t need to know every detail. Right?

Girlfriend

9:01: Oh, okay. I left cookies for you on the stove.

A shock shoots right through your chest. Cookies? You suddenly find yourself wanting to be home, and in her presence, completely negating every other feeling you’ve had tonight. But no. You can’t. You need to make the line clear. Roommates. That's it.

You make it a point to not think about her for the rest of the night, spending time with your brother and making conversation with anyone who came up to you tonight. Sam continues to question you about her, but you shoot him down every single time. You need him to believe it. You even go as far as to accept attention from a girl that has been eyeing you from across the bar. A leggy blonde in a tight black dress.

That seems to shut him up as the two of you share drinks and your mind becomes hazy. The night has grown later and her jokes have become funnier, a kiss is shared between the two of you and in the back of your mind you know it feels wrong. You know that her kiss doesn't even compare to the kiss you shared with Y/N just hours ago. You let her though. You let this nameless woman kiss you in the bar just to prove a point.

Truth be told she isn’t even your type, quite the opposite actually, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that Sam now fully believes you about Y/N. As Sam makes his exit from the bar, you find yourself in the back of an Uber with this woman, Claire, on your way back to your place. His lips are attached to your neck and her hands are in your hair as the Uber driver sends you judgemental looks through the rearview mirror.

You couldn’t care less though, tipping him as he pulled up at the curb in front of your house. You fumble with the keys as she continues to kiss you, in a drunken state of her own. As the lock breaks free you both stumble inside to find the house dark. You’re both laughing as you push her down the hallway towards your bedroom. You know you’re being too loud but you don’t really care. It’s not that late is it?

“Stay here,” you say, pressing a kiss to her lips before she falls backwards onto your bed. You slip out of the bedroom and shut the door behind you as you make your way into the kitchen, the clock on the stove reading 1:04AM. Shit, maybe it is late.

You know you’re going to need another shot if you are going to sleep with this girl. You pull a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet and twist the lid. You bring the glass straight to your lips and take a long pull. It burns like hell, but you’re already too gone to care. You place the bottle on the counter as you run your hand over your face, unsure if you really want to proceed with Claire.

It’s on the walk back to your bedroom that you get your answer, though. Standing in her bedroom doorway, is Y/N. She’s in the tiniest little shorts and a tank top you’ve ever seen. Her eyes are tired and you can tell you’ve woken her from her sleep. You wonder how long she’s been asleep and what she did tonight, while you left her alone at the house.

“Is everything okay?” her groggy voice asks, it’s quiet and timid. You feel your heart shatter as you realize she is the one you would rather have waiting in your bed. From the moment you kissed her last night, you’ve wanted nothing more.

You don’t want to let her in on this, so you continue with your cold, short demeanor. “Yeah. All good. Great actually.”

Just then, Claire opens your bedroom door, peeking out, revealing her in just her lace bra. “You comin’ Jake?” she asks, and right then you want to disappear into thin air. Claire isn’t the girl you want to be with tonight, and the girl you do want to be with is watching everything happen a foot away from you.

Your eyes shoot to Y/N, who is looking at her before slowly looking back at you. You can tell she is feeling something, but she will never admit it. It’s a similar look to the one she had this afternoon. Right before she kissed you. Right before your wet bodies gave away your intentions with each other. When her lips kissed yours harder than they did last night. Needier and more wanting.

You know you can’t sleep with Claire. Not when your mind is so consumed by Y/N.

Y/N quickly nods at you, and quietly closes her bedroom door, twisting the lock and retreating back to her bed.

As if things could get any worse.

You look to Claire, and a rush of clarity washes over you. You can end this. You can make the right choice.

This has to stop. You can’t sleep with this girl.

You push your way back into your bedroom and close the door, Claire instantly trying to attach herself to your neck. All you can think of is Y/N and your kiss earlier, it’s as if that is all your brain can process at the moment. You gently push Claire away, shaking your head as you suddenly start to sober up, despite the whiskey traveling through your veins. You can’t use her like this. You won’t.

You shake your head as you look at a very confused and drunken Claire, “Listen, I’m sorry, Claire. We can’t do this. We aren’t in the right state of mind.” you pause, “I will call you an Uber to take you wherever you need to go.”

“You serious?” she asks, placing her hands on her hips, stepping back a bit. “What happened?”

“I’m sorry,” is all you can say you, pulling your phone from your pocket. It takes you two minutes to order an Uber, and instantly you begin to feel better. About everything.

“I really am sorry. I’ll let you get dressed,” you say, slipping out of your bedroom. You feel guilty for bringing her here, but you know this is for the best.

A few minutes later she joins you in the living room, her attitude drastically different than it was ten minutes ago. You feel guilty for leading her on, then shutting her down so quickly but the minute you saw Y/N you knew you were making a bad choice.

You watch as Claire walks into the kitchen and leans up against a counter as the two of you wait for the Uber to arrive. She grabs a cookie off of the stove and that's when you remember why they are there in the first place. A heat begins to take over your body as you watch her eat the cookie that Y/N left for you. Despite being upset with you, she made and left you these cookies, and all you did is throw another woman in her face. You’ve fucked up, yet again.

The Uber arrives and you usher her out the front door with haste, praying you never have to see her again, and in a city like this you likely never will. You lock the front door behind yourself and you head back to the kitchen, grabbing a cookie for yourself as you sit in the dark and enjoy what is probably the best chocolate chip cookie you’ve ever tasted.

As you brush your teeth you stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror, trying to figure out how you can fix this. If you can fix this. You briefly consider knocking on her door and telling her that you sent her home, but you realize it doesn’t really matter because truth be told you shouldn’t be with her either, no matter how badly you want to be.

Once again your mind flashes back to this afternoon. All the laughs you shared and the genuine happiness you felt as you planted the tiny seeds in the garden and brought home the sad tomato plant. She has the prettiest laugh, and the best smile. You could stare at her all day. You don’t want to sleep with random women. That’s not who you are.

You drag yourself into your bed, staring at the ceiling as you replay the kiss over and over in your mind, torturing yourself as you realize it might have been the last one. In a final act of guilt you reach for your phone, pulling it out of the pocket of your jeans and pulling up her contact.

You

1:38AM: I’m sorry I woke you. Just thought you should know I sent her home.

You place your phone on your nightstand, wondering if you’d done the right thing, and as your eyes shut you are surprised to hear it buzz with a response. You snatch it off the nightstand far too quickly.

Girlfriend

1:39AM: Why did you do that?

It takes you a minute to figure out the real answer to the question, and if the real answer is the one you should give her. You decide that you’re done lying to her. All it does is get you into more trouble. So, you tell the truth, unknowing of what the future would hold because of it, and praying you were making the right choice.

You

1:41AM: Because she's not who I want.

You

1:41AM: Sweet dreams, Y/N.

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cherryxbooo · 1 day ago

Text

Most important part of my life

Summary: Pedri's secret relationship is tested by rumors with a new media colleague, leading him to publicly declare his love.

Reader x Pedri

Genre: fluff/angst

Being in love with Pedri González felt like cradling a secret so luminous, so extraordinary, that unveiling it to the world might scatter its magic like dandelion seeds caught in the wind.

It wasn’t just the fact that he was one of the most recognizable footballers in the world, gracing the pitch at Camp Nou with effortless grace.

It was the way he looked at me when we were alone, the quiet strength of his love, and the unspoken promise in his touch.

Our relationship grew like wildflowers in the shadows, away from the glaring lights of stadiums, the endless buzz of fans, and the relentless click of cameras desperate for a glimpse of his personal life.

When we first started dating, the decision to keep things private was mutual, though it came with layers of complexity.

Pedri had been upfront from the beginning.

"I want you to feel safe with me," he said one evening, his brown eyes searching mine for reassurance.

He wasn’t just asking for patience, he was offering me trust, a sanctuary in a world that rarely afforded him the same.

The privacy was liberating in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

We could wander hand-in-hand through unfamiliar streets in cities where Pedri’s face wasn’t plastered on billboards.

We could spend entire evenings tangled up on the couch watching old movies, his laughter filling the room as I teased him about his terrible popcorn-making skills.

In those quiet, unguarded moments, I discovered who he truly was, not just Pedri the footballer, but Pedri the person I fell in love with.

Still, keeping our love a secret wasn’t without its sacrifices.

There were nights when I longed to post a picture of us on social media, to scream to the world how much he meant to me.

But I knew the cost of such exposure.

Pedri’s life was a constant whirlwind of matches, media obligations, and the ceaseless adoration of fans who believed they knew him intimately.

I’d seen the toll it took on him, how even the smallest misstep could spark a wildfire of speculation.

Sometimes, being in love with him felt like standing at the edge of an untamed sea. His life was the tide, vast and unstoppable, threatening to pull me under if I wasn’t careful.

I remember one particularly tough evening when he was away on a grueling road trip, the distance between us amplified by the silence of my apartment.

I stared at my phone, scrolling through a sea of articles about him, wondering if I’d ever fit into his world.

But Pedri always had a way of grounding me.

He called late that night, his voice warm despite the exhaustion that laced his words.

"I miss you," he said simply. "You’re my calm, mi amor. Don’t forget that."

It wasn’t a grand declaration, it didn’t need to be.

It was enough to pull me back, to remind me that what we had wasn’t just a fleeting romance but something deeper, something worth navigating the storms for.

We had our own rituals, ways of carving out space for us amid the chaos.

Pedri loved to write little notes for me, tucking them in places he knew I’d find later: a pocket in my coat, the inside of a book I was reading.

Once, I found one on my bathroom mirror that simply said, "You’re my favorite part of every day."

It was these small acts of love, these intimate gestures, that made me feel like the luckiest person alive.

Who would've thought that footballers could be so romantic.

And yet, there were challenges I couldn’t ignore.

Being with Pedri meant learning to share him, not just with the fans who adored him, but with the game that consumed so much of his time and energy.

There were moments when I felt like a spectator, watching him shine while I stood in the shadows.

I’d be lying if I said it didn’t sting sometimes, but then he’d find ways to remind me that I wasn’t an afterthought.

One evening, after a particularly intense match, we sat on his balcony overlooking the city.

The air was cool, the distant hum of Barcelona serving as our soundtrack.

Pedri reached for my hand and pulled me close.

"You know," he said softly, "everything I do out there, it’s for us. For this."

His words settled over me like a warm blanket, and in that moment, I knew that no amount of distance, scrutiny, or secrecy could diminish what we shared.

But that feeling didn't last for long...

It all began when FC Barcelona announced their newest hire, Valentina.

She was young, vibrant, and clearly eager to make her mark as the team’s new media coordinator.

Her job was to handle interviews, create social media content, and give fans a closer look at the players they adored.

At first, I didn’t think much of it.

Pedri had mentioned her in passing, a new addition to the team, someone he was helping adjust to the job.

I’d nodded, smiled, and asked a few polite questions, not giving it another thought.

But then the content started appearing.

At first, I convinced myself it didn’t matter.

Pedri was just being himself, kind, warm, and approachable.

It was part of what made him so magnetic, not just to me but to everyone around him.

This was the man I fell in love with, after all.

How could I fault him for being the very person who stole my heart?

But as the days turned into weeks and the “shipping” online intensified, I felt my confidence begin to waver.

It started subtly, like a shadow creeping into the edges of an otherwise sunny day.

A fan edit of Pedri and Valentina laughing during an interview would pop up on my feed, the caption declaring,

“The chemistry is undeniable!”

I’d roll my eyes and scroll past, telling myself it was harmless.

But the comments below were relentless.

"They’d be such a cute couple!""Honestly, Valentina and Pedri give me life!""Look at the way he’s smiling at her, come on, that’s love."

I’d catch myself staring at my screen, rereading the same comments as if the sting would lessen with repetition.

It didn’t.

Instead, it gnawed at me, a quiet whisper in the back of my mind that grew louder with every passing day.

The first time Pedri showed me one of the videos, I forced a smile, feigning indifference.

“Look at this,” he chuckled, holding up his phone.

“They’re making compilations of every time I’ve talked to the new media girl. Fans are wild.” (brother can't be this clueless omd)

I leaned over, barely glancing at the screen, and shrugged.

“Yeah, wild,” I muttered, keeping my tone neutral.

“You okay?” he asked, tilting his head to look at me.

“Of course,” I lied, standing up abruptly.

“I just remembered I need to finish something. Be right back.”

I didn’t meet his eyes as I left the room.

How could he not see the true intentions behind those edits? (ugh men smh)

The little things began piling up.

Each new fan theory, each edited clip, felt like a pebble being dropped into an already overflowing jar.

I told myself it was silly, irrational even, to feel this way.

After all, I knew the truth. Pedri loved me, not her.

But logic and emotions rarely danced in harmony.

It wasn’t just online, either.

At a recent game, a group of fans behind me had spent the entire first half discussing Valentina and Pedri.

“They’d be perfect together, don’t you think?” “She’s got that bubbly personality, and he’s so down-to-earth. Total power couple vibes.”

I gripped the edge of my seat tightly, my nails digging into the fabric. I wanted to turn around and scream,

“You have no idea what you’re talking about!”

Instead, I stayed quiet, plastering on a strained smile for the rest of the match.

Back home, my silence began to speak louder than my words.

“Hey, how was your day?” Pedri asked one evening as we sat at the dinner table.

“Fine,” I replied, not looking up from my plate.

“Anything interesting happen?” he pressed, his tone light but curious.

“Not really,” I mumbled, shoving a forkful of pasta into my mouth to avoid elaborating.

Pedri frowned, setting down his fork.

“You’ve been quiet lately. Is something bothering you?”

I shook my head, forcing a smile that didn’t reach my eyes.

“Just tired. Long day.”

He nodded slowly, clearly unconvinced, but he didn’t push further.

Instead, he reached across the table to take my hand.

For a split second, I felt the warmth of his touch, the comfort it usually brought me.

But then I pulled away under the pretense of needing my water glass.

The hurt that flickered across his face was brief, but I saw it.

My chest tightened with guilt, but I couldn’t bring myself to explain.

One evening, the tension between us became unbearable.

We were sitting on the couch, a movie playing on the TV, but neither of us was paying attention.

Pedri’s hand rested on his thigh, close enough to mine that the absence of contact felt glaring.

Without warning, he paused the movie and turned to me.

“Alright, what’s going on?” he asked, his voice soft but insistent.

I stiffened, my heart pounding. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been distant,” he said, his brows knitting together.

“You barely talk to me, you pull away when I touch you… something’s wrong.”

“It’s nothing,”

I replied too quickly, the tightness in my throat betraying me.

“It’s not nothing,” he countered, leaning closer.

“I know you, amor. Something’s bothering you, and I want to help. But I can’t if you won’t talk to me.”

I looked away, my gaze fixed on the coffee table.

“It’s stupid,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

“Then let me decide that,” he urged gently.

“Please.”

I hesitated, the words caught in my throat.

How could I explain something that felt so petty?

How could I tell him that seeing him with Valentina, innocent as it was, was eating away at me?

“I’m just tired,” I said finally, standing up before he could press further.

“I’m going to bed.”

“Wait—”

But I was already walking away, leaving him sitting there, confused and worried.

In the quiet of my room, I replayed the moment in my mind, hating myself for the walls I was building.

But as I scrolled through my phone later that night, another video of Pedri and Valentina popped up.

The comments filled with speculation and admiration for their supposed connection.

I turned off my phone, buried my face in my hands, and let the tears fall.

Not knowing it was about to become worse.

The next evening,

It started like any other evening.

I was curled up on the couch, scrolling through my phone, half-distracted and trying not to think too much about the growing distance between Pedri and me.

But then the headline caught my eye, bold and damning:

“Are Pedri and Valentina More Than Colleagues? Here’s What We Know.”

My thumb hesitated above the screen, my heart already sinking, but I couldn’t stop myself.

I clicked.

The page loaded, and my stomach twisted with every word I read. The article was a masterclass in speculation.

Blurry photos of Pedri and Valentina laughing together accompanied captions like,

“Too much chemistry to be just friends?”

A still from a video of her hand casually resting on his arm had the writer waxing poetic about

“intimate body language” and “the undeniable proof of a budding romance.”

Every word felt like a small dagger, but it was the comments that truly gutted me.

"I knew it! They’re perfect together!""Pedri deserves someone like her. She’s stunning and sweet!""Finally, the couple we’ve all been waiting for. #Pedritina"

My hands trembled as I set my phone down, but the damage was done.

I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

It didn’t matter that I knew the truth.

It didn’t matter that Pedri had never given me a reason to doubt him.

The narrative was there, glaring and insistent, and it felt like it was pulling him away from me, like I was losing him to a story that wasn’t even real.

That night, I couldn’t bear to look at him.

The weight of my emotions was too heavy, threatening to spill over if I let him get too close.

“Hey,” he greeted me warmly as he walked into the kitchen, where I was furiously scrubbing an already-clean countertop.

“What are you up to?”

“Just cleaning,” I said curtly, not turning to face him.

Pedri leaned against the counter, his eyes following my frantic movements.

“It’s nine at night,” he said with a soft laugh.

“The kitchen’s spotless mi amor. Come sit with me.”

“I’ll be there in a bit,” I replied, my voice clipped.

He frowned slightly, stepping closer.

“You’ve been… acting different lately. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I lied, still not meeting his gaze.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice gentler now.

He reached out to touch my arm, but I stepped away, pretending to grab a dish towel.

“I’m sure,” I said firmly, my tone leaving no room for further questions.

Pedri watched me for a long moment, his brow furrowing in concern.

“Alright,” he said quietly, though his voice carried a hint of defeat.

“I’m here if you want to talk.”

I nodded but didn’t respond, and he left the kitchen, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the unbearable ache in my chest.

I threw myself into meaningless tasks for the rest of the evening.

Folding laundry, reorganizing the spice cabinet, rearranging the books on the shelf, anything to keep my mind and hands busy.

But no matter what I did, the article and its comments haunted me, looping endlessly in my mind.

What made it worse was how vividly I could picture it all.

Pedri’s laughter as Valentina joked with him, the way he always leaned in when someone spoke, giving them his undivided attention.

I knew it was innocent.

I knew it was just who he was.

But knowing didn’t stop the jealousy and insecurity from creeping in, filling the cracks in my resolve.

By the time Pedri came to bed, I pretended to be asleep, my back turned to him.

He sighed softly as he slipped under the covers, and for a moment, I thought he might say something.

But he didn’t.

Instead, the room fell into silence, broken only by the sound of his breathing as he drifted off.

I stayed awake long after, staring at the wall, tears slipping silently down my face.

For the first time in our relationship, I felt like I was losing him.

And the worst part? I didn’t know how to stop it.

The next day,

Meanwhile, Pedri was wrestling with his own frustrations.

The training session had wrapped up, but instead of heading to the showers with the others, he lingered in the locker room, sitting on the bench with his phone in hand.

His thumb hovered over the screen, but his mind was elsewhere, replaying the strange tension between you two over the past few weeks.

Every clipped response, every missed kiss, every moment you pulled away lingered in his thoughts, gnawing at him.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Yo, Pedri,” Ferran’s voice broke through the quiet, light and teasing as always.

He strolled in, a towel slung casually over his shoulder.

“Why do you look like someone stole your boots? You alright?”

Pedri looked up, his frown deepening.

“Not really,” he admitted, tossing his phone onto the bench beside him.

“It’s… Y/n. She’s been acting different. Distant.” He shook his head, as though trying to shake off the confusion.

“I don’t know what’s going on with her. I’ve tried asking, but she keeps saying she’s fine.”

Ferran raised a brow, a knowing look spreading across his face.

“Different how?”

“She barely talks to me anymore,” Pedri said, frustration clear in his voice.

“When we’re together, it’s like she’s somewhere else. I don’t even know what I did wrong.”

Ferran leaned against the locker, crossing his arms.

“You sure it’s something you did?”

“I don’t know,” Pedri muttered.

“Maybe? She’s never been like this before.”

Ferran hummed thoughtfully before his eyes lit up as if a lightbulb had gone off.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and began typing something.

“What are you doing?” Pedri asked, sitting up straighter.

Ferran didn’t answer immediately, his focus on his screen.

Then he turned the phone around, holding it out for Pedri to see.

“You seen this yet?” Ferran asked, his tone cautious but pointed.

Pedri frowned and leaned closer, his gaze locking onto the screen.

It was an article, the bold headline instantly grabbing his attention:

“Are Pedri and Valentina More Than Colleagues? Here’s What We Know.”

“What is this?” Pedri asked, his tone sharp.

“Just read it,” Ferran said, handing him the phone.

Pedri swiped through the article, his jaw tightening with every word.

The photos, blurry snapshots of him and Valentina during team interviews and moments caught on video, accompanied captions that painted an entirely false narrative.

Phrases like “unspoken chemistry” and “undeniable connection” jumped out at him, making his blood boil.

“This is…” Pedri trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief.

“This is ridiculous.”

“You think that’s bad?” Ferran said, leaning over to scroll down.

“Check the comments.”

Pedri’s frown deepened as he skimmed the comment section, where fans had enthusiastically declared their support for the supposed couple.

"They’re so cute together!""I ship them so hard!""Finally, Pedri’s found someone who matches his energy!"

Pedri tossed the phone back to Ferran, his frustration palpable.

“None of this is true,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair again.

“Yeah, well,” Ferran said, pocketing his phone,

“if Y/n saw this, it might explain why she’s acting weird. Can’t blame her, man. This article’s painting a pretty convincing picture.”

Pedri exhaled deeply, leaning back against the bench.

“She didn’t say anything about it.”

Ferran shrugged.

“Would you, if the shoe was on the other foot? Imagine reading something like that about her. You wouldn’t even need to believe it to feel like crap.”

Pedri rubbed his face with his hands, guilt beginning to creep in.

“I didn’t think this could be bothering her. I didn’t even know about this until now.”

“Well,” Ferran said, giving him a pointed look,

“now you do. So what are you going to do about it?”

Pedri didn’t hesitate.

“I need to fix this,” he said firmly, determination sparking in his eyes.

Ferran gave him a pat on the back.

“Good. Go home, talk to her. Don’t let this article ruin things.”

As Ferran walked away, Pedri stayed seated for a moment longer, his thoughts racing.

Now it all made sense, your distance, the way you avoided his touch, the sadness in your eyes.

He couldn’t stand the thought of you hurting, especially because of something so far from the truth.

He stood abruptly, his mind made up.

He had to make things right.

When Pedri came home that evening,

I was sitting on the couch, my laptop open in front of me, but my mind was far away, drifting aimlessly through thoughts I couldn’t quite organize.

The quiet hum of the apartment felt heavy, like it was pressing down on me, and I couldn’t escape it.

I had been trying to keep myself busy, just so I wouldn’t think too much about the distance that had been growing between Pedri and me.

But it didn’t help.

The more I tried to ignore it, the more the emptiness crept in.

The quiet space between us had only grown, and every little thing felt like a reminder of how lost I had become in my own insecurities.

I couldn’t keep pretending.

Every time I saw him laughing with Valentina, or when I came across fan edits of them together, the nagging feeling in my chest had gotten harder to ignore.

The worst part wasn’t even what people online were saying. It was how much I had started to doubt myself.

Doubt us.

When Pedri stepped into the living room, I felt the change in the air.

His presence filled the space, but something about his posture, his eyes, told me he had noticed something was off.

His gaze locked onto mine instantly, and I felt my stomach tighten in anticipation.

He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there for a moment, as if weighing whether he should bring it up.

His expression softened, but I could see the concern brewing beneath the calm.

“We need to talk,” he said, his voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of determination.

My heart skipped a beat.

“About what?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

He sighed, the frustration and worry clear on his face as he walked toward me.

He sat down beside me, his body close but not quite touching.

It was like he was giving me the space to open up, but I wasn’t sure I could.

He reached for my hand, and for a brief second, I considered pulling away.

The distance between us was still too fresh, the hurt too real.

But I didn’t.

I let him take my hand, his fingers threading through mine in the most familiar, comforting way.

But I could feel the weight in his touch, the uncertainty that had settled in his chest too.

"Why have you been pulling away from me?" he asked gently, his voice carrying a soft sadness that made my heart ache.

I glanced at him, feeling a lump form in my throat.

I had been trying to bury everything inside, trying to make it through without having to confront it.

But now, here we were, facing the truth of what had been building for weeks.

I swallowed hard.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

I had to look away from him, unable to bear the rawness in his gaze.

“It’s just... everything that’s been happening with you and Valentina... I can’t help but feel like I’m losing you. I don’t know if I even matter anymore.”

The words left me in a rush, tumbling out before I could stop them.

The weight of them felt like a confession, a cry for help.

Pedri’s eyes softened as he took a deep breath, and I could feel the tension in his shoulders as he gently cupped my cheek with his hand.

“Cariño,” he whispered, his thumb brushing away a stray tear I hadn’t even realized had fallen.

“You matter more to me than anything in this world. I hate that this has made you feel like you don’t.”

His words wrapped around me like a lifeline, but they didn’t take away the pain.

I had watched, day after day, as the rumors built up.

The comments. The speculation.

The way people thought they knew something about us that we hadn’t even shared.

“It just hurts,” I whispered, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall again.

“Seeing those pictures. Reading the comments. Watching them ship you with someone who isn’t me... It’s like you’re slipping away, and I can’t do anything to stop it.”

Pedri’s thumb brushed against my cheek again, wiping away the tear that had fallen this time.

“I never wanted you to feel like this. I never wanted you to feel invisible,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

He moved a little closer, pressing his forehead against mine.

“I’m so sorry you’ve felt like you had to hide, or that you weren’t enough. You’re everything to me, Y/n. Please don’t ever doubt that.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, just taking in his words.

They were exactly what I needed to hear, and yet... something was still missing.

There was so much more I wanted to say, but the fear of making it worse held me back.

I took a shaky breath and looked up at him.

“It’s not about not being enough. It’s just... this whole situation. The rumors. The fans. They have this image of us, Pedri. And it’s like I’m not even in the picture.”

Pedri’s eyes darkened with frustration, and I could see the anger brewing beneath the surface.

But it wasn’t directed at me.

It was directed at everything else, the media, the fans, the narrative that had been spun around us without our consent.

“You’re not invisible,” he said fiercely, his voice unwavering.

“You’re not on the sidelines, Y/n. You’re the most important part of my life."

"I can’t stand seeing you hurt because of something that’s not even true.”

I let out a shaky breath, my heart starting to settle just a little, even though the ache hadn’t completely gone.

“But what are we supposed to do? How do we fix this?”

Pedri looked at me with such intensity that I felt like I was being pulled into his world, where nothing else mattered except us.

“I’m done hiding, cariño,” he said, his voice steady and filled with conviction.

“I want the world to know about us. I want everyone to see who you really are to me. You’re not a secret, and I’m not going to let the media or anyone else make you feel like you are.”

My breath caught in my throat.

I could hardly process what he was saying. It was so big, so bold, yet it felt like the most natural thing in the world coming from him.

He wasn’t just speaking out of anger or frustration; he was speaking out of love, and it made everything in me feel like it was finally falling into place.

“Are you sure?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

“This is... this is a huge step, Pedri. Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

His eyes softened again, and he reached out to touch my cheek, his thumb tracing gentle circles against my skin.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” he said.

“I don’t care about what the fans think. I care about you. About us. And I’m done hiding us.”

I felt tears well up again, but this time, they weren’t from hurt.

They were from relief, from the overwhelming love that suddenly felt so certain, so real.

“I love you,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion.

“I love you too,” Pedri replied, his voice full of warmth and sincerity.

He leaned forward, pressing his lips softly against mine.

For the first time in weeks, I felt like we were finally back on the same page, ready to face everything together.

pedri posted on Instagram!

Liked by yourusername, gavi, ferrantorres and 112,452 others

pedri El amor de mi vida.

View all comments

yourusername Love you the most 🩷

pedri Yo también te amo mi amor ❤️

ferrantorres 👏👏👏

pedri 💪

pedri_and_me6 I’m honestly shocked! Didn’t see this coming Pedri and his girl look cute together 🥹

barça_love_89 Pedri be scoring on and off the pitch dayuum

pedriclosetclothes8 Forrealll he bagged a baddie 💅

pepilvr8frv Wow I thought Pedri and Valentina were really together this is so unexpected but I’ll always ship Valentina and him. 🤷‍♀️

frbtogethergavi30 Girl stfu you don't even know them 🙄

brcculer8 Not you rooting for something that doesn't exist 🤦‍♀️

blueredlyy7 I just know it stinks girl get out of here 🥱

lvlybarca8630 Pedri that's our girlfriend now 🤭

delulu4pedri8 Ew he deserves better 🤢

chichiclassypepi8 Really living up to the name

fnzygvi6 He isn't going to acknowledge you stand up sis 😒

The end

#pedri x reader #pedri imagine #pedri fluff #pedri gonzalez x reader #pedri x you #pedri fanfic #pedri x y/n #pedri angst #football x reader #football imagine #football fanfic #fc barcelona x reader #barcelona x reader #barca x reader #pedri gonzález x reader

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kisses4reid · 2 days ago

Text

scare | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,, (part 4)

synopsis - you’re in a relationship with some one else and have a pregnancy scare, both your own reaction and spencer’s makes you realise that you’re not happy.

part synopsis - you return to work, and a sudden revelation changes everything.

genre - bau!reader x spencer, friends to lovers, r was with someone else, douchebag bf trope, pregnancy scare, angst & fluff, comfort, reader is female with female anatomy and feminine

warnings - pregnancy is the main theme, blood, menstrual cycle, crying, inaccuracies because i have never been pregnant/ever thought i could be pregnant, uneducated reference to abortion: 'stick something up there',

w/c - 2.1k

a/n - last part. im sorry for the long wait and the subpar writing, i lost motiviation for this series and wasnt as into the story as i was before. BUT! i kept going for you guys. thank you <3 if anyone catches my hamilton reference youre my best friend

You hadn’t shown up to work for the week, taking the precious sick leave you had been hoarding and spending it all on arguing and throwing things into cardboard boxes. Not your stuff, but Lloyd's. And Spencer had spent those days pulling at his hair, tapping his fingers on his desk, and watching the automatic glass doors of the bullpen open just to find somebody else.

To everyone else’s knowledge, you simply had a bad stomach bug, but to Spencer it was much more. His stress was just a ticking time bomb waiting to detonate if one more person asks him how you were. Because he didn’t know. Not only were you physically absent from Spencer’s life, but virtually as well. No texts, calls, online likes or tags. It made him think the of the worst possibilities.

That’s where he was now, sat at his desk, finger tapping, leg bouncing, eyes darting from glass doors to blank phone, before he grabbed his phone and started to Hotchner’s office. His steps echoed in the early morning office sepace, patting his sweaty hands down his pants. But he didn’t make it very far before he heard Garcia’s familiar squeal, and your own genuine giggle.

Six days had been the longest you went without seeing Spencer, let alone your entire group, since you got the job. But you couldn’t put such a burden on these people, especially not the one who had seen you break down in his own apartment. To you, this was something you needed to figure out slowly and alone. Alone. Thank god, you were single now.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, just a flu?” Garcia asked, slipping one of her arms into yours and walking you to your desk.

“Stomach bug.” You smiled, patting her hand and sitting down at your desk. You looked at all of your trinkets and photos, happy to see that you never actually put a couple photo on your desk, and happy to see a photo of your team all together instead.

Spencer spun on his heel and widened his eyes, a breath escaping him in relief.

“Y/n.”

You looked up and stared at the man, the bags under his eyes deepened and the creases between his brows appearing like scars.

“Spence, hey.” You smiled as Garcia took his hurried steps as her queue to leave.

“How are you-“

“He’s gone. Sorry you cut you off.” Your hands started fidgeting, you looked askance. Spencer’s eyes betrayed him in his shock, thankfully his lips didn’t betray him in his happiness.

“Oh. That’s great.” Spencer nodded and had to shake the sudden urge to grab your hands and squeeze them. He could feel the possibilities in his fingertips by the second, but he couldn’t lose sight of the bigger issue here. “Are you gonna work a case with us? Are you feeling… better?” He asked with full care in his warm brown eyes.

“Yeah, I’m better. I mean, I’m not great yet but I’m better. Still thinking about things.”

He nodded, but before he could ask anything more, the rest of the team emerged from the elevators.

“Eden Lim, missing for 9 hours after her mother left the front door open to let in fresh air. Power outage in the neighbourhood took out all the air conditionings. Neighbours are either elderly couples or other families.” JJ handed out manila folders and picked up the remote to the Tv screen, showing a photo of a sweet little girl with her mother in a slightly professional set up. Aaron nodded and started, “Wheels up in thirty, JJ organise a meeting with their sheriff and investigators.”

On the plane, you were surprised to say the least. You found out you were pregnant by a sudden sickness, and now, you felt fine. Even though you didn’t get plane sick often, you expected at least a little nausea or maybe a headache. But honestly? You felt fine. Maybe you were a superwoman, one of the rare lucky mothers that don’t get sick often.

That’s what starts to distract you, the thought of the future. You didn’t know anything about pregnancy, let alone parenting. The last time you babysat was for Emily’s cat. Your hands started sweating and you bit the inside of your lip to attempt a suppression of nerves, but you obviously weren’t slick enough.

Hotch sends a glance your way, “You okay, Y/n?”

You smile softly, “Yeah, just the plane is kinda waking up my stomach.”

He nodded, seemingly accepting of that answer, and you gave yourself a mental fist bump.

You try to refocus on the case, but another factor is making this specific one harder.

Eden.

The top name on your baby name list since you were 16, the one you sort of planned to use without much second thought. The one who belongs to a missing child.

A young man who had just lost his son stole Eden, took her to his house, and treated her well. He was a father who had suffered loss, and took from someone else in the same way so that he wasn’t alone in his feelings.

Something about that felt slightly relatable. If Lloyd knew how you were feeling, maybe he would understand the weight on your shoulders.

You walked with Spencer to your desk, the aura around you both feeling like it was going back to normal, just with another layer on top. The secret kept between you two, a bigger one than any of the others. You flicked your small, dark green scarf over your shoulder, the difference in temperature from the case hitting you harder than usual.

Spencer slipped his satchel over his shoulder and sent you a smile. You felt a spin in your stomach because of the sight, and looked down to hide your face discreetly. You heard a small clear of the throat and then Spencer’s voice,

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Every time the victims name was mentioned, you sniffled, you rubbed your arm, or took a harder breath. Why is that?”

You widened your eyes, nearly laughing at the question. You had no idea Spencer was paying that much attention to you. Honestly, you thought he was going out of his way to avoid you to lower the chances of the team getting suspicious.

“Oh, it’s just uh. Eden has been on my baby name list since I was a teenager.”

Spencer’s shoulders tensed slightly, and his mouth opened as he nodded. His heart broke a little more. And he realised this was the first time you two were having a conversation since the night you stayed at his apartment. Not only was it making it real for you, it was making it real for him. Although, he had already vowed to himself that he would help you out with anything you needed, he doubted his mental capacity to take care of a baby made from the women he loves and a man he despises.

You both started walking to the elevator, always the last two in the office before Hotch, and you subconsciously stayed close to him. A pang hit your lower stomach that you pushed down.

“How are you doing, physically and mentally?” Spencer pushed the button with the down arrow, and looked down at you. His hair was slightly ruffled, his tie askew, but his eyes were how they always were when they looked at you, full. Full of care, of adoration, of worry, of knowing. Full of… something that could ruin both of you if he made the wrong decisions.

You took a breath and had to tear your gaze off of his, “Well, like I said, I broke up with Lloyd. He didn’t want to be a father, and when I told him I didn’t know what to do with the… baby, he said… he said… he told me to ‘stick something up there’ if I couldn’t afford another way.”

Spencer felt a rush of rage wash over him, his cheeks reddening and his hands fidgeting harder by the second. How could he?

“Basically, the opposite of how you reacted,” you laughed but it didn’t last long.

“Y/n… why haven’t you told me about him before? I didn’t even know you had been talking to guys until you were already dating one of them. If you told me about him I could’ve… I don’t know.”

“Open my eyes?” You smile sadly, and nod. “If I told you about him, and about how he acted… it was kind of like complaining about a sapling to an oak tree. Complaining about a page to a library. Complaining about a dickhead to…” You shook your head, “I felt embarrassed. And, I want you to think highly of me. But I guess after all of this, I can’t really help it anymore.”

Spencer stopped you in front of the elevator and took your hands, he looked at you with concern, and a bit of anger.

“Y/n I don’t hate you, or think any lesser of you just because you’re… pregnant, or because you were with a bad guy. I think that, while it’s true I think Lloyd is a terrible guy and I don’t see a lot of logic in staying with him, it was your own decision. I’ll always respect that.” He glanced down to his hand holding yours and let go of it.

Your eyes widened, panic shot across your face.

“Y/n?” The elevator doors opened.

“I need to go to the bathroom.” You turned and ran to the toilet, hearing Spencer’s steps behind yours a moment later. He called your name, asked you if you felt sick, and it made him feel guilty for making you stress in a time like this.

He hadn’t fully processed that you weren’t just his best friend, his love, but his pregnant best friend.

You pushed on the ladies bathroom door hard and darted for a toilet stall. There is no way I’m peeing my pants in front of Spencer Reid.

You closed the stall, and soon heard Spencer enter the bathroom with no hesitation to the fact it was a women’s room. “Do you need to hold your hair up?”

And even though the offer played with your heart, you quickly denied him, “No, Spencer, I’m not sick. I just needed to…”

You wiped, and suddenly you felt dizzy. Red.

Red?

“Blood…” you whispered to yourself. "Oh my... god."

“Blood!? Y/n, should you go to the hospital?” He stood closer to the door as his heart rate picked up.

You stood up, pulled up your pants and opened the door. Spencer nearly fell into you.

You screwed your eyebrows together in confusion, and all at once a million feelings hit you. Hatred, sadness, depression, heart break, hope, denial, acceptance… relief. You looked down, unable to look at Spencer as your heart quickened, and covered your mouth with your shaking hand.

“Spencer, I’m on my period.”

His big eyes searched yours, looking down and over your face and body and it was like watching him piece a puzzle together. “You’re not…”

You shook your head, and a wave of relief hit you all at once, tears hitting you like a tsunami, your arms wrapping around Spencer’s shoulders like unforgiving ropes. He stilled for a moment, before reciprocating the tight embrace, a breath of air leaving him in the contact. He squeezed his eyes shut and gripping at your work shirt causing wrinkles to appear between his fingers. His large palm warmed your back in soothing strokes before they laid tightly around your ribcage. Honestly, hugging you was a big thing he had been thinking about in your absense - they were always genuine.

You let go and smiled at Spencer widely, the first one you gave him genuinely in too long a time. Spencer placed a hand on your cheek and wiped a tear gently, smiling back at you.

“Oh, Spencer, I’m so… sorry.”

He stopped in his tracks and widened his eyes, “Why?”

“I made you worry for so long-“

“Hey, a false positive is not your fault. You had a less than 1 percent chance of getting one so it’s no wonder it didn’t cross your mind. My mind, as well.” His heart swelled as you two looked into each others eyes. Happy, relieved, suddenly aware of how close you two were to each other.

Spencer dropped his hand, and looked down with a cough. “I’m happy for you, Y/n.”

You nodded with a shy smile, and turned to look back at the toilet, “Well, I’m gonna… you know… take care of this and then… do you wanna get a drink? I need to... I need somewhere that's not my apartment to think about this.”

He blushed slightly, realising where he was, and picked up his satchel, “Yes, of course. Do you want to go to mine? We can pick up drinks on the way?”

"That would be amazing, thank you Spence." "Anything for you."

taglist - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover @c-losur3 @littlelearningbrat @khxna @laurakirsten0502 @cultish-corner @yokaimoon @flow33didontsmoke @reidswifeyyyyyy @kitsunetori @yasmin12312 @softestqueeen @adoresami @hazza3000 @lov3-audz @issy25 @pleasantwitchgarden @upuntil6am

#criminal minds #spencer reid #cm #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid oneshot #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds hurt/comfort #🍵 —☆ pia’s pages

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peachhcs · 2 days ago

Note

Can you do a lil blurb of Sammy and will still crushing on each other even though they’ve been in a relationship for a while now (like from the start of it to now). Like they still get memorized by each other to this day and it’s just too cute

waittt yesss samy and will still have such a “honeymoon” stage relationship and are always trying to find ways to “wow” one another because they’re just both so in love with one another. like it’s such a playful relationship of continuously crushing on one another and being shocked that they even pulled one another still ahaha

(btw i just got back to school which means i won’t be as active but i promise i see all of your requests!!! i’m posting this to hold you all over until i can get to them :))

au masterlist

when samy got a text from will earlier that day telling her to dress up when he got back from practice because he had something planned, she couldn’t deny the little skip her heart did reading the text nor the smile on her lips.

it was the way he wrote it and added a bunch of cute little emojis that made her swoon just a little bit. he had practice today, so say busied herself doing things in downtown san jose. she was starting to become a regular and a pro at navigating the city without will. now, she wondered what exactly her boyfriend could have going on him his mind that wanted her dressed up.

samy got back to the house and searched her suitcase for something that screamed “dressed up.” she never usually packed a lot, only really trying to stick to basics, so she was struggling and believing that what she packed wasn’t dressy enough. samy should’ve known will would do something like this.

with what she had, the soccer player threw together something that she hoped met what will had in mind. the long, pink satin skirt fell to her ankles and sat at her hips and the white crisscrossed tank top that hugged her midsection and left her lower stomach open screamed dressy enough. at least the floor length satin skirt was dressy. the girl stood in the bathroom touching up her makeup when her phone buzzed again and her boyfriend’s name lit up the screen.

WILL <3

when you’re ready come outside :)

she smiled at his message, hurrying to finish her mascara and add a touch more of lip gloss. samy stuffed her purse with her essentials, shoved her feet into her sands wedges, and then headed down the stairs to the front door where will supposedly was. her stomach was doing little somersaults as she pulled open the door and her eyes widened when she saw will dressed in a nice button down and shorts leaning against his car holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand. samy’s cheeks heated up as she slowly descended down the steps.

“hi,” the blonde grinned, eyes drinking in her outfit and his own cheeks heated up seeing how pretty she looked.

“will, what is this?” samy grew confused when he handed her the beautiful blue, purple, and pink flowers. she smelled them, the scent of fresh flowers filling her senses.

“just a little something for my girl,” the hockey player hummed, snaking his hand around her waist and thumbing the open skin on her hip.

“you’re so sweet. these are gorgeous,” she beamed, leaning up to peck his lips.

“get in, there’s more surprises,” will urged which just made samy even more confused, but she hurried around to the other side to climb in.

“what do you have planned?” she giggled catching the glint in the boy’s eyes and his mischievous grin.

“you’ll see. it’s a surprise,” will argued.

they rolled out the driveway and will wouldn’t say anything else, so the girl was left to wonder until they got to their destination. the hockey player reached his right hand over to squeeze her thigh, a soft smile on his lips. samy quickly latched their fingers, squeezing back and looking over to admire how good will looked. his curls were a bit damp from the shower he took after practice, but they were the perfect amount of wet and dry that they fell perfectly on his head samy just wanted to reach out and touch them, but she didn’t because will probably styled them just how he wanted them. instead, her heart fluttered again when he began rubbing his thumb across his hand.

it was a small gesture, but it was one that made samy giddy with excitement still anytime will did it. she felt like such a teenager on her first date right now with the unknown of not knowing where it was or what it was, but the butterfly nerves both of them were feeling and sharing.

when they got on the main drag and will started driving in the direction of santa cruz, she guessed it had something to do with the beach because why else would they go to santa cruz? she kept trying to find his eyes and get him to drop a hint, but will was really good at keeping his face set and secrets in.

“how was practice?” samy broke the silence because she still wanted to talk to will and hear his voice after not seeing him all day.

“it was good. we ran some plays and did a few technique practices,” the boy explained and the girl smiled.

“feeling ready for the game tomorrow?”

“i think so, yeah. it should be a good game,” will agreed which was the first time he’s said that in awhile, so samy was glad to hear that. she let him know that by squeezing his palm.

“what about you? how was your day? buy anything cute?” will turned the conversation to her and she flushed.

“it was good. i walked around downtown and just window shopped. i didn’t buy anything. i don’t know if i have money to buy anything right now,” the girl admitted with a laugh.

“if you saw something, tell me and i’ll buy it for you,” will was quick to cut in and her face flushed

“will, i can’t ask you to do that.”

“then don’t ask, i’m already doing it,” he beamed and the girl just rolled her eyes playfully. it would be a miracle if will had any money left after spending all of it on her.

“well, i didn’t really see anything i wanted, so you’re in the clear for now,” the youngest hughes joked.

“you act like it’s a burden for me to buy you things,” the blonde rolled his eyes back.

“don’t forget our roots. you never would’ve bought me something willingly when we were 12,” samy teased with a small chuckle. younger samy and will were such enemies back then, it was hard to believe this was how they were now.

when they pulled into the parking lot samy wondered what will was getting from the back that she wasn’t supposed to look at yet. she stood away from the car like will instructed just waiting for him to tell her what they were doing for the night. she couldn’t lie about the excitement bubbling in her system because will had always been the best at planning these little surprises.

“okay, you can look,” will said and samy spun around.

her boyfriend had a picnic basket slung on his arm, a beach blanket, and a bottle of wine in his hands. the girl’s eyes widened as a large smile crept its way to her lips.

“oh my god, will,” she gushed and the blonde just loved seeing that smile on his girlfriend’s lips.

“how do you feel about a sunset picnic on the beach?” he grinned back.

“i love you,” samy reached up to place a sweet kiss to his lips before letting him lead them down to the warm sand.

luckily, it wasn’t too crowded as they found a spot far away enough that the tide wouldn’t get them wet. samy watched as will opened the basket and pulled out two wine glasses and then the entire grocery store—he seriously must’ve bought all of the pastries, deserts, and appetizers.

“where’d you even get all of this stuff?” samy wondered as she helped lay it out around them.

“the basket is christina’s. i pitched the idea to her last night and she was very much on board. the beach blanket is mack’s. i got the food at the grocery store after practice,” will beamed feeling pretty proud of himself for doing this and it really was worth it to see the smile on samy’s lips.

“and the wine?” she raised her eyebrow.

“eklund.”

“ah, makes sense. well, this is really sweet, will. you wow me,” the girl giggled.

“you wow me too. thought we could have a little date since it’s been so busy lately and i probably won’t see you for awhile after this,” will admitted and a soft smile fell on both of their lips.

they dug into the food and the wine. for being best friends their whole lives, they never seemed to ever run out of things to talk about. samy and will talked about everything and anything while they ate and got (mainly samy because will had to drive home eventually) somewhat wine drunk. they talked about college and everything samy didn’t tell will over facetime. will talked about his teammates and if he could assign them a shred character who would they be. they talked about next summer and where they think they’d be besides the lake house. samy teased will about how much the fans loved his and mack’s friendships and how she was getting replaced (no one could ever replace samy in will’s mind).

by the time they covered all of their bases, two hours had passed and the food was nearly all gone. the sun was almost all the way set below the horizon for the night, but the lights from the town above kept the beach lit for them.

samy was laying on will’s chest. her head found a place over his heart where she listened to its steady rhythm. will’s arm was hooked securely around her waist, still thumbing the open skin between her skirt and shirt. now they were just admiring the starts starting to come out as the sky grew darker and the sun disappeared. it was so perfect.

“did i tell you how beautiful you look?” will mumbled making samy look up at him. he peered down at her while she peered up at him, a soft smile finding its way to her lips.

“you may have mentioned it,” she stroked her thumb over his chest where some of the buttons on his shirt were undone and exposed his toned muscles.

“well, you look really beautiful. you had me speechless when i saw you come out,” the hockey player said making samy blush from the bottom of her neck to the tips of her ears. those compliments would always get her no matter how many times will said them.

“you’re just saying that,” she mumbled.

“i’m not. you make me speechless a lot,” the blonde mumbled.

“you make speechless too. you look pretty handsome yourself. i didn’t know you had these clothes hiding at practice,” she half joked.

“i grabbed them before i left. been thinking about being here with you all day,” will used his other hand to thumb some of samy’s loose strands of hair away from her face.

they gazed into one another’s eyes as the moment closed in around them and it was just samy and will in their own little world.

“how’d i get so lucky?” samy muttered quietly.

“you tell me. how’d i get so lucky?” the boy echoed her words.

“would you have guessed we’d start dating when we were 12?” the girl giggled and will rolled his eyes lightly.

“you’re back to this huh?”

“i’m just saying. we hated each other so much when we were 12 and now we’re confessing our love to one another on a beach,” it just made samy laugh that this ended up being their fate even though she would never ask to change any of it.

“i mean i did have a crush on you when were 12, so it’s not that far off,” will shrugged with a small smile.

“what? you did?” this was news to the soccer player.

“i mean we were 12 and like having those weird phases and moods where we were first developing feelings..i don’t know, but yeah kind of. maybe that was why i was so mean to you because i didn’t know why i was feeling that way towards you. it eventually faded obviously until we got older,” the blonde laughed.

“wow, i didn’t even know that. i just genuinely disliked you.”

“alright,” will mumbled, but samy pushed herself up to peck his lips.

“i couldn’t imagine anything different though. i love you so much,” the brunette beamed. god, will loved that smile so much, especially when he was the cause.

“i love you a lot, samy. you’re my girl forever,” he wrapped both arms around her torso and held her ad close as he could even though they were already as close as they could be.

“you’re mine forever,” she kissed his chest before turning her gaze back to the stars that were now shining brightly above them in all their glory.

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stars4noah · 17 hours ago

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TELL THE STARS- one.

{WARNINGS}: swearing

w.c- 2,023

a.n- i've only written one chapter of this and i'm in love. sorry it's so short, i'm having brain farts rn :(

{TAGLIST}: nothing yet..

for years, noah had been searching. the red string bound to his pinky felt like it was burning through his skin. he wasn't usually a man of religion or prayer, but he would pray to the stars that one day he would find her. his soulmate.

he was making his morning coffee run for himself and the others before they took off for the beginning of their tour when a young girl bumped into him, spilling her coffee all over his shirt. she apologized profusely, panicking and helping wipe his shirt with some napkins, while he was stood frozen, staring at the string that connected the two of them.

NOAH'S POV.

today marked the beginning of our tour. new album, new fans, bigger shows. bad omens had gotten bigger than i had ever expected, and i had a smile on my face the whole way i was walking to some coffee shop, looking down at my phone.

as the bell rang, announcing my arrival, i felt a small push against my chest, followed by cold liquid all over me. my eyes widened as i looked down to see a girl apologizing over and over again, trying to help me clean my shirt.

"fuck." i cursed as i registered what happened before noticing the red string that tied us together. i snapped out of my haze, knowing she was likely very confused.

"hey, it's alright. no big deal. accidents happen. let me buy you a new one, yeah?" i smiled sweetly.

"sorry, i really would, but i have to go. sorry!" she said, rushing out of the store before i could even get another word in. would it be weird for me to chase after her? probably.

i groaned, running a hand over my face. i forced myself to commit her face to memory. if i met her again, i would have to stop her. i think that she was so busy and in such a rush to get to her destination, she didn't even notice the obvious.

we were soulmates.

with a small smile and a dirty shirt, i ordered mine and the band's drinks and waited patiently.

i ran into the house quickly, putting the drinks on the kitchen counter as i was met with eyes of confusion. "woah, dude, what's going on?" matt asked, and a huge goofy smile spread across my face.

"i met my soulmate."

their eyes widened. "seriously? where is she?" nicholas asked, a smile taking over his features as well.

"oh uh... she left. i met her but i didn't meet meet her, you know?"

jolly raised an eyebrow. "so what happened?"

"i walked into the coffee shop and this girl spilled her coffee all over me and i realized her string was connected to mine! and then i offered to replace her drink but she said she had to go and just rushed out before i could say anything else."

i sighed, a look of longing in my eyes as i leaned against the counter and tried to come up with a plan on how i could find her again. i refused to leave LA before i got her number at least. knowing she was out there, i couldn't go out on tour for almost a year not knowing her name or anything about her.

"we have to find her. fast." i said.

READER'S POV.

i rushed out of the coffee shop, running to my car and quickly driving off. i had just been hired for some new stage tech job for some band and i could not afford to be late. plus, these guys payed pretty well. and one of them could be my soulmate, who knows?

i put the address for the airport into the gps, driving as fast as i could without getting pulled over. today had already been such a shitty day, and it was almost 8 am. lord knows what would happen if i-

whoop!

"oh, come on!" i groaned, looking at the flashing red and blue lights from the rearview mirror. i pulled over into some parking lot, putting my car in park and running my hands over my face. this day could not get worse.

"ma'am, do you know why i pulled you over?" the officer asked as i rolled down my window.

"speeding, probably." i said, the officer giving me a disapproved look at my slight attitude. they took my license and registration, walking off for a moment before coming back with all my stuff and the added bonus of a ticket.

i huffed as i pulled away. "$200 fucking dollars. jesus christ." i said.

i soon pulled up to the airport, parking my car which took longer than i'd like to admit. i was only a couple minutes late as i walked into the airport, looking for a familiar face. and i was shocked when i found them, only to see two familiar faces.

oh right. the guy from the coffee shop.

'please don't be my boss, please don't be my boss.' i thought to myself as i walked over to them, a soft smile on my face.

"oh, good! you're here!" matt said. i smiled back, giving him a small hug in greeting. him and i had been best friends since we were kids, and he offered me the job not too long ago. of course, needing the money, i said yes. i had a degree in that kind of stuff anyways, so it wasn't much of a bother. i knew what i was doing for the most part.

he introduced me to everyone, the last person being the cute guy from the coffee shop.

"and this is noah, our lead singer and boss."

'fuck!' i cursed internally.

brand new job, and i already made a terrible first impression. i shook his hand, my eyes going down to his pinky out of habit. i froze when i saw his string connected to mine, my eyes widening as i looked back up at him, though he didn't seem to notice. did he not see the string? or did he not recognize me? i didn't want to say anything out of fear of seeming like a weirdo, so i said nothing and continued walking with them to security.

security was a breeze, and we all sat down at our terminal as we waited for the plane.

"so.. have you met your soulmate?" i asked noah, looking up at him. he smiled softly.

"yeah, today actually. she bumped into me at a coffee shop. didn't get her name though. or a good look at her face. you?"

i nodded, biting my lip. "i think so."

"oh yeah? how?"

i took a breath. "uh.. funny story." i laughed. "i don't think he recognizes me. we got a glimpse of each other for like a minute and i ran off."

"oh, well you should try to find him." noah said.

"actually, i-"

"flight 202 is now boarding." the intercom spoke.

i cursed as noah and i got split up again. we boarded the plane, me sitting beside matt next to the window and noah a couple rows behind us sitting by nicholas.

i sighed as i sat down, running my hands over my face with a groan.

"hey, what's wrong?" matt asked as he got comfortable beside me.

"i'm like, 99.9 percent sure that noah is my soulmate. and he doesn't recognize me. and every time we talk we get interrupted before i can say anything." i said, and matt's eyes widened.

"wait, you're cute coffee shop girl?"

"yes!" i said. "why do you think i was running late? i spilled my coffee all over him and then i got pulled over. today has been the worst."

matt laughed softly, patting my back.

"it'll get better. i promise."

a couple hours later, we arrived at some airport in florida. our first show was in orlando, so once we got out of the airport we headed straight to the tour bus to start our drive.

"alright." noah said. "[y/n], you can have the bunk above mine. we're gonna be here for a good few hours, so make yourself at home."

i nodded and smiled softly, my eyes darting down to his pinky again.

the whole soulmate thing was a weird process. after you officially met your soulmate, your string disappeared, leaving you with a mark on your finger with a color that matched that of your soulmate's. noah's was green, as was mine. he hadn't noticed though.

"hey, no-"

"noah! come here for a sec!" folio called, and noah excused himself before heading to the front of the bus to talk to his friend.

i climbed into my bunk, groaning into my pillow. every time i was close to telling him, he got distracted. couldn't one thing go right in my life?

before i knew it, the exhaustion of the day had crept up on me, lulling me into sleep. all of my worries seemingly faded away for the time being, and i relaxed for the first time in hours.

until i was woken up again, water being splashed on my face. i sat up quickly, hitting my head on the top of my bunk. "jesus- ow!" i said, looking at the five boys who were in front of me, matt holding the now empty bottle of water. he tried to contain his laugh, noticing how i looked at him with a glare.

"i hate you." i said.

"you love me."

as we prepared the arena for the tour, matt showed me how things worked. how to set up the speakers, the different tracks and when they need to be played, and all of that stuff. i tried to stay out of the way for the time being, only doing things when i was told to do them.

i'd never seen noah perform before. i'd never even heard of the band until matt gave me the job opportunity. but seeing him perform on stage was something different entirely. how could a man with such a sweet face have such a powerful voice? it was crazy.

i tried to ignore my growing arousal as i watched him perform. the way he moved, the way he spoke and smiled and screamed. it was all so beautiful. so infatuating. i was so caught up in my own thoughts i didn't even notice when the show ended. and just like always, every time i tried to talk to him, he ended up having something else to do. i could barely get three words out before he had to go and see some fans or sign some papers or some rockstar shit. it was starting to piss me off.

i threw my bag on my bed as we got back to the hotel. first show, and i was in a bad mood. the whole day, nothing had been going the way i needed it to. i couldn't even bring attention to the fact that i was his soulmate. standing right in front of him, and he didn't even notice.

just like i didn't notice someone walk into the room, right i was taking off my shirt.

"oh, shit!"

i screamed, quickly covering myself as i turned around.

"fuck, noah! what are you doing?" i questioned, my eyes wide in confusion and shock.

"i- we- we're um.. sharing a room. i thought matt told you." he said, a hand over his eyes.

of course. matt.

i huffed, pulling my shirt back on. "you can look now."

he slowly uncovered his eyes, not wanting to make eye contact with me. i was just so tired, my mind didn't even think to tell him about the whole soulmate thing.

i sighed. "it's been a long day. i'm sorry, i'm just gonna go to sleep."

"no, don't apologize. i get it. get your rest." he said, getting in his bed as i got into mine.

while i dozed off, i didn't notice his eyes on me. or rather his eyes on that little mark on my finger, followed by a soft whisper of my name. i had already fallen asleep.

#edenspeaks #stars4noah #bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens x reader #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens fanfiction #tell the stars

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crownofgildedlilies · 2 days ago

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ORBIT - 3, the first dinner

satoru gojo x fem!reader wc: 3.3k [prev] - [full series] - [next]

You knew enough about kids to know that they’re not supposed to stand quietly at the edge of the room.

You’re making yourself at home in Satoru Gojo’s kitchen at his massive house when you notice Tsumiki, standing in the doorway. She’s watching you closely, eyes a little wide and a smile curving her lips upwards, just the slightest bit in the corners.

Gojo is off on a mission. You’d actually been at Jujutsu High, turning in corrected paperwork to Yaga when he had called, asking you to watch the kids while he took a last minute mission. You’d accepted, obviously, and handed your phone over to Yaga so your former principal could tell Gojo off for being forty-five minutes late to a meeting they were supposed to be having at that very moment.

It’s the first time you’ve been alone with the kids, and besides your initial arrival when you said hello to them in their playroom—state of the art, equipped with an in-home jungle gym and art center—you hadn’t seen nor heard from them since.

“Hi, Tsumiki,” You call softly, watching her from the corner of your eye as you prepare dinner. Gojo had left you more than enough money to simply order delivery, but you had taken one look at his fully stocked kitchen and decided you’d be cooking. The kitchen at your apartment was barely big enough for a microwave—you were taking advantage of Gojo’s unreasonable wealth.

“Hi, Miss.” The young girl replies warily, taking half a step into the kitchen. She’s got her hands clasped behind her back, rocking back and forth on her heels adorably.

“You don’t need to call me Miss. My name is just fine.” You remind her, smiling softly so that she can’t possibly mistake your words for anger. She’s just so sweet, and Gojo had mentioned she was more on the sensitive side. “Where’s your brother?”

“He’s in the other room. He didn’t want to come with me to see what you were doing.” Tsumiki is still hovering by the doorway. You nod slowly, grin curving one side of your lips, drying your hands on a dish towel beside the sink.

“I’m just about to start cooking dinner.” You wave your hand over the counters, filled with ingredients you’d pulled from the refrigerator and cabinets shortly before she had arrived. “Do you want to help me?”

She’s nodding immediately, stepping into the kitchen fully. You smile fully at her, dragging a chair to the sink so she could wash her own hands. She climbs up on her own and pumps far more soap than she needs onto her palms.

“Can I fix your hair back? It’ll be easier to cook without it in your eyes.” You hum out the question, earning a quick nod from the young girl. Her dark brown hair is tied up in another one of Gojo’s hastily done ponytails, but either from his inexperience or her own rigorous playing, many of the strands now hang in front of Tsumiki’s face.

“Gojo tries his best, but he’s not very good at doing hair.” She sighs, sounding so incredibly serious that you have to chuckle softly. As gently as you can, you tug the hair tie from her hastily done pony, finger-combing it into place. It would look better if you had a brush, but it’s miles improved than whatever Gojo had going on.

“He can’t be the best at everything,” You grin, twisting the elastic tight for a final time before stepping back to admire your work. Instantly, Tsumiki spins around on the chair to smile at you, her tiny voice thanking you sweetly. You can’t help it when you reach out a hand and pinch her cheek. “You’re adorable, Tsumiki.”

“And you’re really pretty,” She smiles bashfully. “Gojo said you were pretty before we met, and he was right.”

Her words, despite your best efforts, have you blushing. You try your best to smile normally at her, and you’re so glad that you can busy yourself by prepping the food on the counter. Adjusting her chair so that it’s beside your designated work station for the evening, you’re careful to give her jobs that keep her little fingers far from the cutting board.

It’s not long before Megumi wanders in, frowning like usual, though his hands are shoved deep in his pockets instead of crossed over his chest.

“Want to help us, Megumi?” You call out, keeping a careful eye on Tsumiki adding veggies into the pot. She’d been animatedly telling you a story about something that happened in school, and you’d been dutifully listening and asking questions to keep her talking. You know it will be much harder to get Megumi to open up, but you’re friends with Satoru Gojo. You love a challenge. “I could always use more helpers.”

“No,” He says, but it’s not in the same snappy tone you’ve seen him use with Gojo. It’s hesitant, and you recognize the uncertain look in his eyes as he watches you and his sister. Slow to trust, it’s clear to you. But despite his denial, he doesn’t leave the room. Instead, he stays hovering by the doorway to the kitchen, surveying what’s happening.

“Did you need something?” You try, though you’re pretty sure the dark haired boy wouldn’t even tell you if he did. From a few conversations with Gojo and a handful of interactions, you’ve gathered that Megumi Fushiguro is as independent as he is sassy. You’re pretty sure he’ll give Gojo a run for his money.

“No,” Megumi repeats the one syllable word, shaking his head. His permanently messy hair bounces with the movement, and you can’t help the way your lips curve up at the sight. You duck your head to keep him from seeing the movement, because you’re pretty sure he wouldn’t react positively if he thought you were laughing at him.

“Megumi, be nice.” Tsumiki scolds, eyes narrowing at her younger brother. You wonder how much time and energy she’s already spent in her short life attempting to keep him in line, and the thought makes you frown. You hate the idea that life forced her to grow up far faster than she needed to.

“He is being nice, Miki.” You hum casually, stirring the veggies in the pan. You can feel both children staring at you, and you know you need to choose your next words carefully. “He doesn’t want to help and he doesn’t need anything. It’s perfectly fine if he just wants to watch. Dinner’s almost done, anyways.”

Tsumiki is satisfied with your answer at once and goes back to her job of mixing all the chopped greens in a big bowl for a side salad, but Megumi is still watching you. You take a chance and lift your gaze to him, and you’re not surprised in the slightest to find him clearly thinking through your answer and what he makes of it. It’s an intelligence you don’t think a five year old should have, but once more you’re cursing the circumstances that taught him to be so cynical.

And maybe you’re cursing your circumstances, too. Kindred spirits, and all.

“Well…” Megumi starts, tearing his stare away from you and looking across the room at nothing in particular. “Maybe I could set the table.”

“I can help!” Tsumiki shouts, scrambling down from her chair.

“That’d be nice,” You smile, not making a big deal out of his offer. If Megumi couldn’t stand Gojo because he was so dramatic, then you would have to remember to keep things casual and let him go at his own pace. “I’ll call Gojo and see if he’s going to be here to eat. He said he wouldn’t be out long tonight.”

Megumi doesn’t say anything at the mention of his guardian, but he does cross the kitchen and wait patiently beside you while you pull three plates from the cabinet. You stack silverware and napkins on the plates you hand to him, and then you give Tsumiki the glasses. You hold your breath as they make their trek to the dining room, half-expecting the sound of broken glass to rain through the house.

Once you’re certain they made it to their destination without tragedy, you pull your phone from your pocket and dial the one number you never thought you’d have a reason to memorize. It rings far fewer times than you expected it to before he answers, voice deep and lilting.

“Satoru Gojo, world’s strongest, speaking!” He chirps, and you roll your eyes as you prop your phone between your shoulder and ear to clear up your hands for tending to dinner.

“Are you going to be home in time to eat, world’s most humble?” You ask. He’d mentioned before he left that he didn’t expect his mission to take long, though you weren’t sure if it was because it really was a low-level curse or that he was just that arrogant. “The kids are setting the table now, but you’ve got probably fifteen minutes until the food is ready.”

“As lovely as that sounds, I’ll have to pass. Yaga’s being mean, again.” You can hear his pout through the line, and your brows raise in an unimpressed quirk.

“He’s being mean or he’s holding you accountable, Gojo?” The question comes out with a huff, but you feel your lips curve upwards and hear his dramatic gasp at your obvious question.

“Oh no. He’s gotten to you, too.” Gojo sounds scared in an over the top way, and you can’t help the snort of laughter that falls past your lips. It’s nice to laugh, and you let the sound hang in the air while you check on the rice. “Want me to bring you dessert tonight? It’ll probably be after the kids go to bed.”

“No, that’s fine.” You hum, trying not to think about the buzzing in your chest at the idea of you and Gojo talking so casually about the kids, like they were your kids, together. “Tsumiki asked if we could bake cupcakes after dinner.”

“Fine. Two desserts for me tonight, then.”

“As long as you brush your teeth after,” You tease. Another comfortable silence lingers over the line, and part of you is screaming at your own self for never once being brave enough to call him in all your time in North America. It’s easy to talk with him, you realize, when he can’t see your face. But soon enough you hear tiny feet padding their way towards the kitchen. “I’ll save you a plate. Don’t fill up on sweets, Gojo.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He responds, and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice. It’s annoying enough—no, you’re absolutely not blushing—that you tell him goodbye before hanging up the phone. It’s over in seconds and the device is tucked away before Megumi’s head pops back into the room, saying they were short a napkin for the table.

He’s halfway back out of the kitchen with his quarry in hand when he suddenly stops, and you barely catch the sudden lack of movement in the corner of your eye. He’s trying to gather his words, you can see it on his face. He’s not old enough to quite hide what he’s thinking, and you’re grateful you don’t have to guess with him.

“Tsumiki said you’re making cupcakes after dinner.” He finally asks, and though you had known he was waiting to ask you something, you hadn’t thought it would be that.

“We are. Gojo won’t be back until after you guys are in bed.” You explain, careful not to act too interested in why he wanted to know. You’re stirring the dinner to give yourself an air of nonchalance, and you smile inwardly at the idea that you were trying so hard to not look like you were trying hard—for the benefit of a five year old.

“Can I help?” Megumi’s tiny voice asks, and you fight the urge to fist bump. Gojo had done nothing but complain for hours on end that Megumi was too independent and closed off. But there he was, asking if he could help you and his sister bake cupcakes.

Oh, you were going to rub it in Satoru Gojo’s face.

“Of course, Megumi.”

It’s hours later when you’re tucked on the couch that you finally hear the front door open. You don’t move from your position, but you turn the television off and listen to the sounds of evenly measured footsteps wander through the massive house. Part of you is dreading the fact that you’ll have to go back to your own apartment soon, but you can’t exactly ask to have a sleepover.

“There you are,” Gojo’s voice rings through the living room as he finds you, and you steal a moment to study the length of him. With narrowed eyes, you take in the tired lines of his face, so out of place. The lights are dim enough that he’s pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head, revealing everything to you.

“What’s wrong?” You ask while pushing yourself to your feet. Gojo flashes you a grin like you had ever been one to fall for his charm, and when you only frown at him in return you watch as his shoulders slump slightly. You sigh, but you’re certain it’s not him you’re upset with. “C’mon. I’ll warm up your dinner while you tell me.”

“Since when have you been so doting?” He quips, no doubt aiming to get a rise out of you to avoid your questioning. But you’re too used to his tricks after four years of knowing him, so you only roll your eyes as you pad past him and into the kitchen. He follows dutifully, and that’s really the biggest sign that something is bothering him.

“Sit,” You order, pointing to a stool tucked underneath the edge of the kitchen island. He does, but in the same movement he reaches for one of the cupcakes you and the kids stacked neatly on a plate before sending them to bed. You make a warning hum low in your throat, and it takes everything in you not to cringe at the fact that you really have turned into a mother hen, seemingly overnight. “Eat dinner first, then you can have sweets.”

“Okay, Mom,” He teases, but he follows directions, tucking his hands under his chin as he watches you pluck the covered plate you had made up for him earlier from the fridge and set it into the microwave. You can’t get yourself to meet his uncovered stare, for whatever reason, so you settle on watching the plate rotate as it warms. “How were the kids tonight?”

“Angels.” You hum, tapping your finger on the counter restlessly. A grin finds its way onto your lips and you discover the courage to look at Gojo with a teasing smirk. “Megumi made me promise not to let you in his room.”

“He loves me,” Gojo clutches a hand over his heart, and you’re certain that it’s not the first time Megumi has banned Gojo from his bedroom. The thought makes you snicker to yourself just as the timer dings on the microwave, and you pop it open after the first beep.

You set the plate in front of him and busy your fingers by searching out for utensils to eat with. You even go so far as pouring him a glass of water before you’re left with no choice but to stand across from him with your arms crossed while he slowly eats. Even though the entire kitchen island stands between the two of you, you can’t help but feel like you want to run from the room. But you’ve never seen him look so tired, so you stand your ground and clear your throat to get his attention.

“You still haven’t told me what’s wrong.” You don’t sugarcoat your words. Not with Satoru Gojo, who you think is an expert at finding ways to try and derail conversations he doesn’t want to participate in.

“And here I was, thinking you were doing all this because you were sweet on me.” He grins, flashing you a dazzling smile, aided by the lack of sunglasses covering his eyes. You’re almost distracted by the sight, and you blame it on the intimate setting.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me.” You cross your arms and tilt your chin up, stubborn and pouting. You’d already lost one friend because you weren’t there when they were struggling with something—you’d be damned to all hell if you lost another.

“That’s not a threat. I like having you around.” Gojo laughs, almost unaffected. Almost. The most you give him is the slight dip of your chin so you could narrow your eyes further at him, and within seconds he’s huffing a dramatic sigh. Even though his dinner is only half finished, he picked up a cupcake, and you let him. “I got into it with Yaga. It’s no big deal.”

“About what?” You don’t let him play off what happened. Yaga is a hothead, you’ve known that since your first class with him. But despite that, you had never seen Gojo get into it with Yaga—not counting that one time in your second year when you’d nearly died on a mission you weren’t yet suited for. Gojo had yelled at Yaga then, but you’d never seen him do it since.

“He wants me to meet with the Higher Ups.” The words sound bitter on his tongue, and it makes your own face twist in distaste. You’d never had to deal much with the jujutsu Higher Ups, but you can’t imagine they were very pleasant. “Something about coming to work for the school. But I doubt that’s all they want from me.”

You’re not brave enough to say it, but you know what he’s hinting at. The Higher Ups are looking for someone to clean up the mess Suguru Geto left in his wake, and who better than jujutsu’s strongest? The thought makes you sick to your stomach.

“I think it’d be a good thing if you went back to teach at the school.” You offer, because the tension was too thick to ignore. Gojo nods, his blue eyed stare fixed on pushing food aimlessly around his plate. You sigh, because you don’t really know what else to do. “I should go home.”

There’s a beat of silence, and the distance across the kitchen island you’d purposefully placed yourself behind suddenly feels much too far. For a split second, you think Gojo might ask you to stay longer, but it’s only fleeting as he nods almost imperceptibly.

“My car is waiting out front to take you,” He says casually, and you want to chastise him for not telling you that he had somebody waiting on you, but you bite your tongue. He’s already had one person important to him tell him off that evening. For once, you’ll let him have some peace.

You’re brushing past him to gather your coat and bag when his hand shoots out, wrapping around your wrist. His infinity is off, because you can feel the burn of his skin against yours.

“Thank you,” His voice is quiet. You think he must not want to break the quiet tension the kitchen holds, because you don’t want to either. “For watching the kids. For dinner. For talking.”

“Night, Gojo.” You kick your sock clad toe into the leg of his stool and brush your thumb against the inside of his wrist holding you. He lets go, and you’re missing his warmth more than you’d ever admit, even under duress. “Stay out of Megumi’s room.”

He laughs, then, and you walk away with a victorious grin.

You don’t understand the pounding of your heart, but that’s neither here nor there.

taglist status: open

@moonchhu

#satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x you

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lulublack90 · 18 hours ago

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Prompt 8 - Physical

Wolfstar, January 8, word count 722

Previous part First part

Everything was delicious. Remus had three platefuls to Sirius’s amusement.

“Where is it all going?” He asked, prodding a finger into Remus’s flat stomach. Remus shrugged as he swallowed another roast potato.

“No idea. Mum used to say I had hollow legs. She used to joke that she’d never managed to fill me, I just kept eating.” He hadn’t talked about his mum for a long time. It usually came with pain as he remembered her, but with Sirius, talking about her filled him with warmth.

Once they were finished, Remus dutifully took their plates to the kitchen and began washing up. Sirius slid in beside him and began drying what Remus had washed. They worked in comfortable silence, but Remus could tell Sirius was building up to ask him something. His eyes kept darting towards Remus and his mouth kept opening and shutting without any words coming out.

“So, erm, this Sunday my parents are hosting an event for MS and I wondered if you might want to go with me? You don’t have to,” He added quickly, seeing Remus wince.

“It’s not that I don’t want to go with you because I do. I just agreed to work Sunday night, and if I cancel, I might not get asked again.” That was the problem with his other job. If you turned down the work, then the next time you’ll be the last person on the list they ask and right now he couldn’t afford that.

“Oh, alright,” Sirius said sadly, reaching up to put the plates back in the cupboard. Remus opened his mouth to explain further, but right at that second, his phone went off. Olivia Newton-John singing ‘Let’s Get Physical!’ On repeat. It was James.

“Sorry,” Remus apologised as he answered the call. “Hey James, what’s up?”

“Hey, babe,” Remus could hear the smile in James’s voice and found a smile of his own creeping across his mouth. “You still up for Saturday then? Lily wanted me to check,” Shit, he’d forgotten about Saturday. It was Lily’s birthday, and they were all getting together for a party at theirs. Remus suddenly had an idea. He turned to Sirius and, holding the phone against his shoulder, asked. “Do you fancy coming to a friend's party with me on Saturday?” Sirius’s face lit up and he nodded yes. Remus put the phone back to his ear and found James rabbiting on about all the decorations he’d bought and how it was going to take him forever to blow up all the balloons. “Hey, James, would it be alright for me to bring somebody?” The line went silent. “James?” Remus asked, pulling the phone away and checking the screen to make sure they were still connected.

“What, like a date?” James asked curiously. Remus looked at Sirius. He had no idea what their relationship was. Sirius held out his hand and Remus passed him his phone.

“Hi, James, is it? This is Sirius. Remus doesn’t know it yet, but I’m his boyfriend… Yes, that’s right, the one that keeps inviting himself over for sleepovers… Oh my god, yes, Sweeny Kebab, right?… He totally is… I did, it was the worst thing I’ve ever put in my mouth… No seriously… Did you get one of those hand pumps? One of those would make it so much easier… We could come around early and help you set up… Yes, of course, I can’t wait to meet you. I’ve only met Remus’s father… Oh, yeah… He left pretty quickly once he found out who I was… Oh, erm, Sirius Black… Yeah, yeah, that’s them… Really?… Damn, James, that's, that's so sweet… Yeah, see you on Saturday… Bye.” Sirius handed Remus his phone back.

“I love him, Remus, I demand that you keep him,” James told him as soon as he put the phone back to his ear.

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” He answered, watching Sirius move about his flat with easy familiarity. The little weirdo had completely enamoured Remus. His boyfriend. It felt right somehow, even if they’d only known each other for days, it felt like so much more. “See you Saturday,” He said to James, before hanging up and going to sit with Sirius on the sofa. Sirius immediately cuddled up to him and Remus pressed play on his DVD player.

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rubywillkins · 1 day ago

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Lando Norris | Beyond the checkered flags

Pairing Lando × female reader

Warning smut, frenemy, insecurity

Y/n had always been part of the Formula 1 world, though not directly. Her childhood friend, Lando, was one of the most celebrated drivers on the grid, and their mutual friends ensured she was never far from the paddock drama. They had grown up together, thick as thieves but constantly at odds—a dynamic their friends loved to tease.

“You two fight like you’re in love,” Clara quipped one evening at a dinner.

Y/n smirked. “Please. His ego would suffocate me.”

Lando shot back, “And her stubbornness would drive me straight into the gravel.”

The room erupted into laughter, but neither noticed the fleeting glances they exchanged when the other wasn’t looking.

It wasn’t until a rainy summer barbecue that their dynamic shifted. Yn was sitting under a gazebo, watching Lando charm a group of fans who had crashed the party. She sipped her wine, trying to ignore the dull ache in her chest. Meanwhile, Lando couldn’t shake how Y/n’s laugh—melodic and carefree—seemed to pierce through the noise around him.

Later that night, as the rain drizzled down, he found himself texting her.

“You should come to a race,” he wrote.

Y/n stared at her phone, her heart skipping a beat. “Sure, let me just hop on my private jet,” she replied, rolling her eyes.

“I’m serious,” Lando texted back. “Let me handle it. I want you to see me race.”

Y/n hesitated. She hated the idea of accepting something so extravagant, even from Lando. “I’ll think about it,” she finally replied, hoping he’d drop the subject.

But Lando wasn’t one to give up. Over the next few days, he bombarded her with calls and texts. “Y/n, don’t be stubborn. It’s nothing for me to arrange. You’ve always been there for me—let me do this for you,” he said late one night, his voice softer than usual.

Her resistance melted. A week later, she found herself walking beside him in the bustling paddock of the British Grand Prix. The air vibrated with the roar of engines, the sharp smell of rubber and gasoline filling her senses. She felt out of place, but Lando’s presence was grounding.

But the day wasn’t without its thorns. By the evening, y/n discovered a slew of toxic comments on social media: “Who’s the girl with Lando? Another fame-hungry wannabe.” “She looks so out of place. Clearly, not his type.”

Y/n tried to shrug it off, but the words gnawed at her. Back at his hotel room, Lando noticed her unusually quiet demeanor.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his tone laced with concern.

She hesitated before showing him her phone. “It’s just...people online. Nothing important.”

Lando scrolled through the comments, his jaw tightening. “y/n, don’t let these idiots get to you. They have no idea who you are.”

She looked away, biting her lip. “It’s hard not to care.”

He cupped her chin, gently tilting her face toward his. His touch was warm, his eyes smoldering with an intensity that made her pulse race. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice low. “You’re incredible. And anyone who says otherwise doesn’t deserve to know you.”

Her breath hitched, their proximity electric. “Lando…”

Before she could say more, his lips were on hers—firm, urgent, yet achingly tender. Lando melted into him, her hands clutching the front of his shirt as he pulled her closer. The kiss deepened, years of unspoken emotions unraveling in the heat between them.

He broke the kiss just long enough to whisper against her lips, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

Y/n gazed up at him, her cheeks flushed. “Maybe I’ve wanted it too.”

Lando’s hands slid to her waist, his touch firm yet reverent. “Stay with me tonight,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

Y/s’s heart pounded, but there was no hesitation. “I’m not going anywhere.”

What followed was a night of raw, unrestrained passion. Lando worshipped her like she was the only thing that mattered, He took her in his arms in bridal style, and than put her on bed slowly. "I just love you sweetheart so much" before she could even reply he just started kissing her hungrily... it was rough but with care...

He started to undress her while making out..

The moment the Bra was off of her.. he just froze.. he admired the her breasts like they were kind of sweet.. " lando stop.." she said while blushing.. "oh c'mon they are adorable, lemme taste them" he started sucking them like a hungy poor guy who didn't get food since days...

One hand pinching other niple while other was gropping one while he is sucking it.. and you.. you were a fucking moaning mess.. and than he slowly moved to your clit... And started drawing circles on it... He suddenly slipped his all 3 fingers inside you... You gasped... " Lando..be gentle Baby".." yea baby.. I will try.. i will try to be very gently rough"..

"argh you are so good lando"... He was fucking you with his all three fingers... While sucking your clitoris... And than... He put his dick inside you in a split second.. givinh you shockwaves every min.. or should I say every second..

He was good infact he was firee.. after some time.. you both cum together...

You let yourself fall, surrendering to the heat and emotion that had simmered between both of you, for years.

By morning, they lay tangled in the sheets, the first rays of sunlight painting the room in soft hues. Lando traced lazy patterns on her bare shoulder.

“So,” he began with a smirk, “will you come to more races with me?”

Y/n laughed, her fingers trailing down his chest. “Only if you promise to win.”

“For you?” he said, leaning down to kiss her again. “Always.”

From that day on, y/n and Lando faced the highs and lows of his career together. In a world of speed and chaos, they had found something steady and unshakable: each other.

..........................................................................................

Authors note

As per the pole results.. Lando Norris won by 0.6% from Oscar. I personally think it's almost a tie. So if you guys want an Oscar fic too than you can request me. I'll only be making the oscar fic after this if I get enough requests. So if you guys want an Oscar fic just after this fic than my next fic will be about oscar. Thankyou ❤️

#lando fluff #formula 1 #lando smut #lando x reader #lando norris #lando x you #landof1 #landofic #lando fanfic #formula1imagine #lando imagine #lando norris imagine

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bonyfish · 1 year ago

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delivery app made me drive to spencer again

#i used rni's aerochrome filter for this #as much as it sounds like a thing i might do i do not take my infrared camera with me everywhere #i took these one handed with my phone without looking #anyway #livali's delivery service #my photography #me posts #the signs may be hard to read so i have transcribed them in the image descriptions

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the---hermit · 6 months ago

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Not me adding annotations to a book to make it more accessible for my mom when she will read it

#i am once again complaining about italian translators not adding enough context and explainations in queer non fiction books #90% of non queer people or people who do not speak english don't have enough fucking context to get certain things #i need tranlators to add the necessary context to make these books accessible for everyone #olay surely mainly queer people will read a book about going outside the binary but if we want more people to understand us #we need to add the necessary context to make these things comprehensible to everyone #both those who do not have a queer background and therefore have never see certain words and those who do not speak any english #why the fuck are we assuminng everyone reading this knows english and the linguistic and cultural context between certain words #most people i know do not know one word on english and since it's an italian translation you should make it completly accessible for anyone #i don't want people to read this with their phone in their hands to look for meaninga here and there #i have had this complaint before and i will keep complaining #it's frustrating because this book makes the concept of going outside the binary very easy and accessible and the translation is not as good #also the translation of this particular chapter did a terrible job language wise too so i can't expect much #the concept is there but oh boy do a few sentences look like they have been translated with google #so yep i resorted to making my own notes because i want my mom to read this and understand it without here needing to ask me for context #i mean i want conversations to start but not because of translation reasons if you know what i mean #and it would be very unmotivating to read a book that has too many words you don't know bc the translator took things for grated #cris speaks #i am done complaining for now #the og book is super good tho i am happy i am reading it again after so many years #the---hermit

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tonycries · 2 months ago

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Love Thy D!LF - T.F.

Synopsis. Yes, your neighbor is a hot, pérvy D!LF. Yes, he’s a total tease. No, you don’t think your poor new bed frame is going to stay in one piece…

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, older! Toji, voyéurísm, pánty-stéaling, male mast., exhibítionísm, he is so DOWN BAD, matíng presses, marathon s, víbrators, oraI (fem rec.), face-sítting, p slápping, p talking, BRÉEDING, mentions of kids, PÚSSYDRÚNK TOJI, proposals, overstím, creampíes, shóoting blanks, he’s a tease that’s shírtless half the time, Megumi’s a real one, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 8.1k (PHEW)

A/N. Apartment building wouldn’t last a week if he was my neighbor.

Neighbor (UGH): another pair of those cute lil’ pajama shorts made their way onto my balcony again, ma.

Your neighbor was a tease.

Ever since you’d stepped foot into this apartment building a mere few months ago, it seemed like everything and anything he did was to rile your poor head up into a frenzy - and, well, down there…

Because, for lack of a better term, Toji Fushiguro was hot.

Once your landlord had off-handedly mentioned that the occupant of the apartment right beside your own was a single father, you’d imagined a sweet older man that doted on his young son and would likely steer clear out of your way.

What you certainly had not expected was for your housewarming gift of a fresh batch of cookies to be oh-so-blatantly greeted by a staggeringly gorgeous man that took up every inch of the doorframe. Shirtless.

Bzzt–!

Your skin burns with the realization of just how deeply you’d been reminiscing back to that heavenly sight, hastily snapping your eyes back onto your blaring phone screen.

Neighbor (UGH): well? hurry before i start to like them too much <3

Ugh, you’re rolling your eyes at that mischievous little heart placed at the end of his text. It was absolutely embarrassing how that was enough to have a tiny squeal slipping through your lips involuntarily. Calling you flirty nicknames, flashing winks your way, lingering his hands just slightly whenever he helped carry your groceries upstairs - Toji did everything.

You find yourself giving your reflection a slow one-over in your phone camera - just in case. Before padding eagerly down the treacherous pathway that carried you out of your apartment and along the five steps down the corridor to your neighbor’s door.

Heaving out a shaky breath, you knock.

And Toji Fushiguro never made you wait. He never had you standing in the hallway for more than two seconds before that heavy wooden door swings open…almost as if he’d been suspiciously standing by for this.

“Took ya long enough. Heh, I was beginning to think you almost wanted me to have it, doll.”

Oh.

Shit, you should’ve known - and it takes every ounce of will in your body to keep your gaze locked with the forest-green eyes sweeping down the expanse of your figure. Greedily.

Because Toji was showing off what looked like miles upon miles of slightly-tanned, bulging muscles that were just about seconds away from ripping straight through the thin, white undershirt that stuck to him like a second skin. Molding to every curve and dip down, down, down-

It’s not something new exactly, and if there was one thing you’d learned during your time here, it was that your eccentric neighbor wasn’t shy to show skin.

Especially around you.

In one hand was grasped the soft fabric of your cotton shorts, swallowed up by his thick digits. The other propping up on top of the door to flex his strong biceps in a way that makes you gulp.

You notice with a jolt that Toji’s pinkish tongue briefly peaks out to swipe over that sinful scar sitting prettily at the very edge of his smug smirk. Moving to hum cockily, “Cat got yer tongue?”

He knew what he was doing.

God, this was already shameful enough without him making it worse. You were only grateful that so far you’d been called over for only a few sundresses and t-shirts - nothing scandalous, yet.

“No-” you’re mumbling out. Trying oh-so-hard to not let your eyes flicker to the too-tight strain of his boxers around his thick thighs. Failing. “Just wondering how you probably need those shorts more than me, anyway.”

He didn’t - in fact, you’d prefer him without one.

A fat thumb of his finds its way to the hem of his boxers, tugging down so tantalizingly slightly to give you a sexy flash of skin. Lined with a sharp hipbone, and a dark happy trail - “S’that your way of tellin’ me you want me out of this, ma?”

“You wish, pervert.” You try to swipe at your shorts, only for Toji to dangle it far, far away from you. “I just meant those b-boxers look like they’ve seen better days. Years, even.”

“Hah?” Toji’s dragging out mockingly, leaning his broad shoulders against the doorframe. He’s crossing his hands, letting your sight be obscured by the display of his strong, rippling forearms. So close now that you feel his breath fan your face, could smell every waft of his cinnamony masculine scent. Grin only widening, “M’being nice enough to take the time outta my day to hand over your cute lil’ pieces of laundry and this is how ya talk to me? I have better things to do, y’know.”

Huffing, you’re ready with a quick apology on the very tip of your tongue to get this over with as soon as possible. That is, before-

“He’s lying.”

Both of you snap your heads down towards the direction of the sullen, deadpanning voice. And you already know by the wearied sigh at the end who it belongs to.

“Why, hello there, Megs-” you’re smiling, reaching out to ruffle those spikes of black hair that’d magically manifested beside the door. Ignoring Toji’s affronted grunts of “he never lets me do that.”

“He’s lying, y’know.” Megumi blinks his eyes up at you, and you silently wonder just how it was possible for a six-year-old to look like he’s seen all the horrors of the world already. He’s ruthless. Pointing a sharp, accusatory finger up at his father, “He doesn’t have better things to do. He’s been giggling disgustingly to himself in front of the door for the past-”

“That’s enough- why don’t you get some homework done, my son.” Toji’s clapping his hand immediately over Megumi’s mouth, wrangling his tiny, thrashing body over one shoulder before briefly disappearing inside.

“Just tell her!”

“I’m taking your iPad time away!”

It’s just about all that you hear from inside before he makes his appearance again - shaggy, black tresses now disheveled, high cheekbones flushed, and from the corner of your very obvious staring you notice a pearly bead of sweat disappear between his cushiony pecs. Though, your eyes follow, you didn’t mind…

“Tch- kids these days, right?” he’s gasping in a few hurried lungfuls. Planting the shorts into your open palms, his calloused pads linger on your hand. “S-so uh, I take that the dryer’s not working, yet?”

You’re sighing, rubbing your fingers over your throbbing temples. “Yeah, I told Higuruma- our landlord to look at it, but he’s still on that business trip and won’t be back for a while. Sorry about all this, Toji.”

“Please-” he’s waving. “You worry your pretty lil’ head too much, it’s not like m’complaining now. Am I?”

“Yeah but-”

“Besides. Why don’t I take a look at it?”

“What?” your brows scrunch together, and the thought of Toji being inside your home made your words tremble ever-so-slightly with- anticipation? Excitement? Want? Whatever it was, it made his dark brows raise, and you’re sure you had an utterly unexplainable look on your face right now. “Do you even know how to?”

He’s scoffing, eyes rolling at you with practice. “Asking me if I know how to fix shit- of course, I fuckin’ know how to fix a dryer. Probably better than ol’ clipboard Higuruma himself. You need to be taken care of, y’know.”

And, yes, that might be so - but more than that came the idea that Toji had to enter your home to do so. You couldn’t help but think of something else. Making you mutter out a heated, “I’ll…consider it.”

He smiles a smug smile, a tiny dimple digging into the very end of his cheek. “Tha’s what I like to hear, ma.”

The very second that door shuts, you’re rushing back to your own apartment. Shorts clutched to your thumping heartbeat and thighs slightly weaker than they were just a few minutes ago. Slightly…hotter. Ready to scramble back into your bedroom and create just a bit more laundry for tomorrow.

And only a few seconds later does Toji find himself doing the most pathetic fistbump behind closed doors. The beginnings of a sleazy smile on the very edges of his lips.

“Smooth, dad.”

“Now I’m serious about no iPad-”

Megumi’s running back into his room before that rasping threat has even left Toji’s predictable lips. Grumbling, he’s making his way to that godforsaken frog-cased iPad cushioned in the middle of the sofa, possibly to hide it away for a few hours.

And then, he sees it.

Now, one of the very reasons that Toji had rented this apartment in the first place was for that idyllic skyline winking up from over his balcony. Towering buildings, flashing lights, all overlooking his living room couch - which, unfortunately for him - or, well, fortunately more like - just-so-happened to be positioned right next to your own balcony lined with laundry.

So it wasn’t exactly a surprise for him to catch a fluttering piece of cotton or ratty sleep shirt of yours for him to tease about later.

With a sigh at the flashing piece of fabric, he’s shuttering the sliding window open - ready to call your pretty self over again before-

“Shit.” Toji hisses, deep baritone wavering. His brows are raising down at the stray cloth, prominent Adam’s apple bobbing with a gulp. You really wear this type of shit? Well, he shouldn’t exactly be surprised but…

But this?

Because wrapped easily around his long fingers was a pair of pretty, pretty lace panties. Panties. All pink and see-through enough that Toji thinks he could see his own fingerprints through that flimsy excuse of underwear.

All of a sudden…his hands mindlessly raise up, up, up - mere inches away from his nose when…fuck.

“Damn, woman.” he’s spitting, snapping back to his senses. Ignoring the tightening in his pants to speedwalk his hasty way over to his bedroom in search of his phone. Just a few clicks away from texting you- “Gonna be the fuckin’ death of me I swear-”

And, see, Toji Fushiguro isn’t the type to stutter.

He isn’t the pathetic type to let anyone else’s voice shoot a bolt of electricity down his spine - to choke right in the middle of his sentence.

But, you always did throw him off, didn’t you?

Because he’s letting his maw slack open in a sharp gasp- no, shudder at the muffled, drawling sound from beyond the walls. Fingers loosening around his phone in sheer shock when he snaps his head towards his shared wall where your bedroom was.

Where he could hear your honeyed voice. Moaning.

And Toji gulps…before locking the door to his bedroom.

Like an animal, he’s immediately sneaking up to press his greedy ear against the wall where it was emanating from. Aching for every tiny gasp and whine, he could just imagine the way you were splayed out across your plush mattress, fingers buried deep.

So cute.

“Please- it feels s-so good.” Comes your cute mewl, followed by the buzzing vrrrr—! of what he assumes to be that hot pink rose toy of yours that’d accidentally gotten delivered to his address last week. And Toji almost snickers.

“F-fuck-” he breathes out shakily. Unabashedly listening for more, more, more- “Ya can’t be serious- what a treat.”

And Toji knows he should be the bigger person and stop listening, he knows he should ignore the sultry way your trembling moans were sending shockwaves down to his tight boxers. But he can’t.

“Ngh- r-right there-” you’re whimpering, and Toji tuts at the way he could’ve found your sweet spots much earlier. “-yeah- hah- jus’ a little more- Toji-”

His phone clatters! to the ground.

Did you just say…his name?

“Fuck-” One massive hand of his comes down to clap over his jaw-dropped mouth, biting back an answering moan coming from something dangerously dark, primal from inside his heaving chest.

Shit, he can’t breathe - he can’t even think right now because every drop of blood in Toji’s entire body was sprinting down to his heavy cock smacking down his thigh. Rock-hard. Angry. Just twitching when your voice repeats his name louder.

“Toji—!”

Ah, there it was again. And with it, he can feel every shred of his sanity being thrown away. Only once- twice was enough to get Toji addicted. To have his melty mind yearning to hear it again. And again. And again and again and-

Toji feels pathetic.

Like some hormone-hazed, younger version of himself when his hands frantically fumble their way to hook into the elastic band of his boxers. Feeling absolutely zero guilt when he tugs-

Toji was hard. Painfully, furiously hard just from the mere sound of your voice. Swollen and sobbing. It was enough to have his fat, strawberry-pink tip smack! against his toned abs, smearing down a wet glissade of precum that makes him hiss. All but drooling at the scratch of your panties being wrapped delicately around his sensitive shaft.

“Oh god.” he’s breathing out, thumbing over a wet glide on the bawling divot of his swollen head. It’s pooling like a translucent little puddle, wet enough that those pearlescent beads gloss a wet trail all the way down to his wrist. And he’s popping the salted-caramel digit into his mouth. “Wh-who the fuck do ya think you are ta get me this hard, ma?”

The fat curve of his thumb latches on to plug up the very ends of his cock, stopping himself from wasting a single precious drop before listening.

For anything.

“C-c’mon–” Toji lets his heavy body lean against the wall after a few more sloppy squelches that pull from your saturated cunt. He could already hear how dripping wet you were. How needy. “Wanna hear your hah- pretty lips talk-”

Toji’s sinking his sharp canines onto his lower lip to hold back a groan. Because as much as he loved to hear himself talk - hearing you moan was worth more than anything. Even if it cost him his rationality to quieten down. Please-

Ah, his prayers are answered.

Because the wall slightly jitters with your vibrating voice once more. “Oh- sh-shit it feels so good-”

“Heheh, does it?” he’s grunting, drawing a slow wetness of swirls on the underside of his slit. Hard enough to send him seeing stars. “Tell me- t-tell me more, ma.”

And could you read his mind?

Because whatever’s left of it certainly seems to think so at the way that no sooner are the words spilling from his babbling lips that you’re feeding his blessed ears with a few more syrupy sweet whines. And Toji shivers when he hears the creak of your bed.

Damn…he could make it break. He’s sure.

The thought is enough to send his hips rutting into his fist, furiously fucking up into it like he was angry. Like he wishes he could do with you-

“O-oh-” Toji gasps out a hot, condensed breath feeling the slight massage of your thin panties at his twitchy balls. He’s unsteadily picking its sticky cloth apart to press it even deeper into the drenched tufts of black at his hilt, down every thumping vein that’s lightning-bolted down his length. “This thing b-barely even wraps around my cock, doll.”

He’s hot. So, so hot. Latching onto the hem of his undershirt with his teeth to swipe across his sensitive nipples.

Burning.

And, really, he didn’t know what was worse for his poor self - your noises from just the other room, or the way your panties felt so good down his cock in this one.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” He twirls your panties around his fat hilt, meshing against the creamy pink at his hefty base. Fucking it up, up, up with pound after pound that half-leaves the poor thing in tatters. Well, he sure hoped you didn’t like this pair too much. “Probably so fuckin’ oh- wet now, huh? Did I do that? Didn’t know you were s-such a slut f’me.”

Every slobbering drag down his length has Toji’s dark brows knitting together. Back and forth back and forth back and- So hard.

So hot and heavy. He could barely catch his breath, sweat perspires across his forehead, and Toji could almost taste the metallic tang of blood when he’s holding back every rasping ah! ah! ah! just to hear your voice.

It was agonizing.

And he couldn’t help but imagine the way you were probably toying your tired fingers over your clit - the way you’d probably be so shy at how he could so clearly hear you. Killing Toji that it was the only thing he could do.

SLAM!

“Shit-” Toji’s snapping his head up at the mindless way his free hand had come smashing down onto the nearby drawer for any shred of balance. Sharp ears searching desperately for any sign that you’d heard-

“Ngh- yes- jus’ a bit more-”

He breathes out a guilty sigh of relief when the saturated slurps of your cunt only continue. Filling his mind sloppily like his favorite song. Gulping in a harsh wad of saliva before spitting a thick stream right onto the very edge of his plump, reddish head. His hulking body wracks with a violent shudder as it drip! drip! drips down every tender spot on his swollen cock. Beading down to cover his heavy balls in a thin sheen of spit.

“Look what you’ve done.” he’s spitting. Other hand coming down to rub lazy, massaging circles around his bulbous, cum-filled sacks. The sheer stimulation enough to have his head lolling drunkenly against the wall.

“M’so close-” Your voice only makes Toji fuck into his hand even harder - if only it was you. You, you, you - the only thing playing around his currently stupid mind. “-g-gonna cum ah-”

That makes him bawl out another furious wave of precum staining your panties see-through, glinting with every flutter down his raw cock. Faster. It was building and building up so close-

“C-close already?” he’s snickering, bending at the knees with how weak he was. Toji’s biceps flex and and ache with just how wildly he was fucking up into his fist, abs rippling with each wild buck. He half-wonders if he’d be able to see that pretty frilly pattern of your panties imprinted on his cock the next day. Over and over- “I woulda m-made you cum sooner.”

Would your beautiful eyes roll to the very back of your head when you did?

Would you beg him to cum, too? To fill you up. To breed you. Shit, that had his hefty shaft twitch in his hands, electricity flashing behind Toji’s eyes.

Would you moan his name - oh, please moan his name.

“P-please-” Toji finds himself gasping, and his entire body was hunched over now. Pathetic. Waiting for any second that you’d reach your high - he was a gentleman, after all. “Cum f’me- ah fuck fuck fuck-” Twiddling a manicured thumb in a slow line underneath his sensitive slit, it was making him moan so dangerously loud. “-please- cum on this fuckin’ cock, ma.”

“Fuck! Toji-” Comes your yelp, and it makes his mouth water. Breath held in a choked-up gasp in his puffing chest, “-m’cumming.”

He could see it already - just how pretty you’d look with your head thrown back and your back arching into his cock when you finally reach your high.

Now, Toji doesn’t know what overtook him to drag those drenched panties up to his face - to press it thoroughly against his nose and smell your essence. Breathing it in. drinking it in. But he can’t pretend like he hadn’t imagined it many, many times before.

And it makes him cum

It makes him shudder with a heavy puff of air, once. Twice. Before dumping and dumping out stringy wads of seed until your soft panties were soaked.

“Oh shit- shit shit shit-” he spews out a slurring slew of profanities, painfully hard cock bursting at the end with wet splatters of cum. So much of it. It’s making such a filthy mess that he almost feels guilty.

Jaw clenching when he’s forced to part with your panties with a pained gruff, sliding it along his thoroughly coated cock. Hi cum seeps through the fabric and into a milky puddle that pools at his wrist, dripping down a milky sheen across his skin.

“Mmpf–” his mouth salivates. A low, disappointed scoff bursting at the back of his throat when your own obscene noises quieten down. He missed you already. Dewy eyes veering to the back of his head, he’s only wondering how much prettier these would look on you. Still as ruined. “You’d be lucky to get these fuckin’ panties back, woman.”

Bzzt–!

From its discarded place on the floor, he can read the notification flashing across the phone screen.

Cutie-next-door: I’ve decided - can you come by tomorrow to fix the dryer, pleeeease?

---

“-ah, ya see when this vent is clogged s’gonna stop working. And so what you hafta do is-”

You weren’t listening.

You couldn’t.

Because Toji Fushiguro was sprawled out across your cramped kitchen - completely shirtless.

You had half the mind to turn him away after he’d knocked on your door with absolutely no sign of any upperwear - that sleazy grin plastered all over his face begging the answer to whether this was on purpose. To tease you. “Can move better this way” your ass.

But the thought of having even more of your laundry fly away, forcing you to potentially face this very same display multiple times is what had you opening your front door wider to let him inside.

No matter how much you would’ve appreciated the view…

And so here you were, squirming in one corner of the kitchen while Toji worked on your dryer. Sweat sheening down his swole muscles, disappearing in tempting beads down underneath his low-hanging pants. Slight smears of grease decorate his pecs, and you have to cross your arms to stop yourself from thumbing them away. He was so handy.

Shit, this was why you’d dolled-up just a bit more than usual. He was so-

“-doll? Doll.”

“Uh-” you’re yelping, blinking your eyes back up to meet an extraordinarily smug smirk now directed at you. “W-what were you saying?”

“Heh, I was saying you should take a picture, it’ll last longer.” he titters with a slight rumble, tools clinking when he’s taking off his bulky gloves. “Ya can enjoy the view later, but I was askin’ if ya had anything to dry right now to test this piece of junk.”

Urgently, you’re looking towards your empty laundry basket. “Sorry, seems that I dried them all out yesterday.”

“No pressure, besides-” You can only watch when he shuffles a hand inside one of his curiously bulging pant pockets. “-I came prepared.”

“Wh-wha- where did you get that?”

Because held so daintily within Toji’s cocky clutches, dangled one of your missing pairs of panties. They looked recently washed, and you’re reaching with a yelp for it. Falling onto your knees to match his seated position - which, obviously didn’t mean he’d hand it over.

Why would he? This was Toji Fushiguro.

He only throws them into your dryer, before closing the door with a dark snicker, “More like why let them fly their merry way over to my balcony again. Honestly- you call me the tease but look who’s talking.”

“You’re saying I’m the tease?” you shrill. The embarrassment was getting to you now - it was overconsuming you - and if the leering smirk on Toji’s face was anything to go by, you were sure that it was visible.

“If the shoe- or, well, panties fit.”

He was so cocky about his stupid lil’ joke.

You stab a rude finger right between the valley of his pecs, copping a feel of the velvety smooth skin. “Sh-shut up, if you want to talk about a tease then let’s talk about who showed up to fix a dryer shirtless.”

“Part of the outfit.” he shrugs. Tilting his head up at you, and shit, it finally hits you how precariously close you two are right now. Toji’s splayed out on your cool kitchen tile, while you’re straddling his slender waist with jittery legs, pressed up against the heated proximity of his unfairly shirtless body. Chest-to-chest. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy the view, little miss had-a-fun-time-yesterday.”

You blink, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

But in true Toji fashion, the closest to an answer you get is a large hand attaching roughly onto your waist. Jostling your body close enough for him to breathe out in a feverish chuckle - hot, and purposeful against your ear. “The walls are thin. Just sayin’.”

Oh.

Oh, shit.

You knew exactly what he was talking about - and so did he.

“...I heard you, too, y’know.”

Ah, you can now live your life happily knowing that you managed to make the ever-confident Toji gasp. You managed to make him part his lips in a slight gape, green eyes glinting with a hint of something dangerous as they widen. His sensory digits pinch at your hips.

“You mean-”

“Yes.”

Uncharacteristically, Toji takes a few gulping seconds to find his voice. And when he does - the very sound is enough to send shivers down your spine and make you wonder for a split-second whether this was really him. Hoarse, pained when he muses, “You heard me and still continued?”

Instantly, you’re trying to form excuses. “No! I mean- yes. It’s just that…”

“Heh, cute. You continued because of me- didn’t ya?”

Your jaw drops in shock, now a slightly defensive tone bleeding in with the embarrassment of your actions. “I-I mean I was doing- it- just fine before I heard you.”

Toji cocks his head, and only says one thing - “Prove it.”

“T-Toji this is embarrassing-”

But oh, all that Toji was wondering was whether he’d knocked his head on that goddamn dryer and gone to heaven already.

Because splayed out for all his pleasure on the cushiony bed was you - quivering legs straddled wide open, your back arched in such a delicious curve that makes his mouth water. Your silken sheets were disheveled and sloppy enough that you’d have to pray the dryer works now. Glistening cunt winking down at him eagerly, just begging him in cute, slurring squelches after every buzzing push of your vibrator.

And Toji? Seated right underneath your cute cunt - hovering mere inches away from sitting on his cocky smirk.

All he’d been imagining. As gorgeous as how he’d imagined you yesterday- no, even more so.

Toji’s leering up at you, muscular thighs manspreading even more to show off his furiously hard erection. “Shhh sh sh-” Toji hums, eyes unwavering from right between your legs. “She’s the one talkin’ to me right now, doll.”

And surely enough, it’s almost like he’s having a conversation with your pussy. Nodding and drunkenly humming along to every slurp that resounds across the heady room. “Tha’s right, make her- make her even wetter for me.”

He’s letting loose his long pinkish tongue to catch the drops of your sweet, sweet juices that slide down his throat.

His breath is so steaming hot against your cunt. Feverish. You huff out a dragged-out whine, kissing up your plump clit with the very edge of your rose toy. Just barely teasing the sensitive hood, “B-but I need you so-”

“Now now, what did I say?” he tuts away your stubborn moans easily. And you’re gazing over your shoulder upon the utterly unapologetic grin that falls across Toji’s face when he tugs down his own pants to flash you with the fat, rotund curve of his ruddied tip. Curling his fingers over the very top, “You don’t need me, remember- Let that pretty pussy talk with me or all you’re gonna do is watch.”

Except now you didn’t think you could talk even if you wanted to.

Your eyes are glazing over with a fresh wall of need when they fall greedily upon the peaking sight of Toji’s fat cock. So massive that it makes your jaw slip open, your cunt gushing out in a few gushes of slick.

“Oh shit- shit-” his eyes widen at the sight, so thoroughly honed in. Almost as if he doesn’t even realize he’s speaking to you. Doesn’t even know. And a few ringing squelches is all it takes for him to throw his head back with a groan. “That got ya wet, ma, didn’t it? Made your cute ngh- c-cunt happy?”

“Yes-” you’re gasping, winking away the overstimulated tears in your eyes. “B-but I want you-”

“Tell me exactly what you want, doll.”

So bossy, you want to snap back.

But right now you’re too hypnotized by the slutty sight of him to say a word. The way he seemed so ruined. That you can’t help but whimper, “I want you to hah- make me cum.”

And it’s just a split-second later when his brawny arms come wrapping around your jittery waist, hauling you over like some glorified rag doll to seat your fatigued legs down. Your dripping cunt meeting his mouth in a sultry, sultry French kiss.

He doesn’t waste a second longer - almost as if beating himself up for all the time wasted - before dragging his tongue to open your presoaked folds. Swirling so hotly to smear them out across his lips, Toji dredges his raised scar across your most tender spots and moans.

Sweet.

So sweet.

“This- this fuckin’ delicious?” He sounded like he was losing his mind, swatting aside your hand. “Move that fuckin’ hand. Y-you were- you were holding out on this? Could eat this cute cunt all the time- could marry ya-”

Proposing and proposing and kissing-

He latches down his glistening canines around your clit and pinches, almost as if a little punishment. And you could practically see the delight lighting up his dark eyes when your cunt slowly grows even more drenched. Little masochist, he’s thinking.

You yelp when without any sort of warning his cheeks hollow out in a sudden suck at your sensitive nub, swirling his tongue over it. “H-how’s that feel?” he giggles - giggles. “Better than your imagination or what?”

It already was.

But you couldn’t let his ego expand anymore than it already has, so the only thing you’re managing to do is trap a few sweat-dampened locks of his hair and drag your slobbering cunt down Toji’s mean mouth. Partly because you needed it, partly because you needed him to shut up.

Choking out, “D-don’t get so full of yourself, Toji–”

“Full of myself?” he’s chuckling - face smeared with a translucent mask of glistening slick that told you exactly why he should be full of himself. It glosses over his curled lips and drips down Toji’s sharp jawline. “Full of myself? Gimme that-”

Instantly, your till buzzing vibrator is being snatched meanly out of your hands. “S’this what ya want, instead, ma?”

Toji didn’t expect an answer.

And you can’t give him one.

Because that furiously jittery probe is being bullied right between your puffy pussy lips, licking a languid line down the edge of your sloppy hole. Before he’s bullying the long end inside your eager entrance-

“Does it feel good?” he’s taunting. Sinking down onto your clit and pulling. “Oh yeah- feels great. Doesn’t it?”

But it’s such a mouthful that sputtered out into your clit. The vibrations of white-hot pleasure making your spine bow like such a slut into Toji’s ravenous mouth. And your jaw slack open in the most strained of whines, “Y-yeah feels so-mmpf-”

Immediately, your mouth is being firmly shut closed with one of Toji’s mountainous palms, and he snickers. Giving you pretty lil’ cunt a pat that has splatters of slick speckling all the way to his lips - ones that he gladly licks up. And then some at the remnant excess all over your thighs. “I was talking to her.”

“Y-you’re so mean.”

At this, he pulls back and blows a heated gust of air against your puckered hole. “And you’re fucking drenched.” That spearing bullet is lodged firmly against a few tenderized sweet spots that make you keen. “And she’s saying…s’not enough.”

You were sure he was talking for himself.

Or…was he?

Honestly, you don’t even know - you didn’t even realize what you were missing until the fat girths of Toji’s digits shove their filthy way into your narrow opening. Already so stuffed, yet, he’s scissoring aside the vibrator into the gooey depths of your walls.

Either you could take him or he’ll make space.

Whistling out in awe, “Dontcha think this feels muuuch better?” As if to whittle out another one of your syrupy sweet noises, you’re being gifted with another sopping wet thwack! against the ready nub of your clit. Before Toji wraps his scarred lips around it and sucks. “Look- she’s even fuckin’ wetter.”

You didn’t even have to see to be able to know - because you could hear.

Toji was steadily pummeling your cunt with the most staggering smashes of the rounded curves of his fingertips into your sweetest spots. Jostling the vibrator inside, knuckles smashing it with friction to rub up against your constricting walls.

Honestly, it was just so much. You felt stuffed.

“F-feels like m’gonna explode.” you mewl at the heady thump! thump! thump! shuddering all across your body - and you didn’t know whether it was because of the thundering pulse in your ears, because of the way Toji’s fingers were crashing and thrusting against your tender g-spot. His neatly cut fingernails glide soaking wet grazes over and over in a sloppy staccato. “Ah! Right there, it f-feels so good-”

“Tch, you think I don’t know?” Toji’s rolling his eyes, muttering his words into your sopping slit. His free hand comes slamming down in a harsh smack! against your ass to make you lug against his face faster. “Ride yourself on me, ma.”

You stumble through it - yearning for more.

“Faster.”

“I-I’m trying.’”

But it wasn’t enough. Obviously.

And Toji’s impatiently revolving one hand around the curve of your waist to make you press down hard in the most sultry gyrations. Around and around it had him hypnotized. “Not tryin’ hard ‘nough. Cuz this pretty lady h-here’s just crying to cum, doll. Ya hear her?”

How could you not?

It’s all that you replay in your mind. Accompanied with a shot ngh ngh ngh that was curdling at the very back of Toji’s throat. Whispered into every graze of his tongue down your slit, you took a quick glance backwards to catch the way that he was properly fucking his fist now.

Long, thorough drags down his achy cock to bead out wet sloshes of precum. Only getting faster. Sloppier. Red and angry-

“Shit.” you’re whimpering, hands steadying on either side of his bulging deltoids. It felt like your very bones were rattling along with the vibrator. Nails digging in to the muscle, “I th-think m’close- think m’gonna-”

And oh Toji’s eyes stray to the back of his head at how reminiscent this was of just yesterday. Snickering a heavy, “You ‘think’? I know she’s so fuckin’ close. Can feel her. Isn’t she? Gonna cum? Gonna make a ngh- mess on me, is she?”

Answeringly, he’s leaving another few smacks! on your mound that have your gooey walls fluttering, the double penetration of both the buzzing bullet and his fingers too much. Too close. You feel every delicate bundle of your nerves exasperate.

And it’s impossible not to mumble out drunkenly - embarrassingly. “Sh-she is.”

It’s so rough.

Both your release and the way that Toji was fucking you through it - because the very moment he hears your breath hitch in a saturated manner similar to last time, he’s tugging out your buzzing vibrator and toppling it somewhere over the bed. Replacing it with every long inch of his heated tongue-

Like hell he’d have you cumming on some damn plastic before his tongue.

“Shit- it feels so-” Barely managing to formulate the words into coherent syllables. Your body convulses when he swiftly pecks your pretty clit with the rose toy instead. “-so good- ngh! M’cumming m’cumming ah-”

Toji’s fucking you through your high with the double stimulation of his fingers and his tongues spreading open your snug insides mercilessly. Ruthlessly. Wave upon wave of pleasure that had your toes curling, vision flashing white. Sensitive pussy dredging up from the very bottom of his sharp chin all the way up to his button nose.

It’s adorable how tired you were already, already huffing and puffing for breath. He could almost laugh if he didn’t have a mouthful already.

“Yeah tha’s right-” he slurps, more than talks. Thick digits curling tight and thumbing over his twitchy divot to wall up that velvety wisp of cum from escape. Leaving kiss after kiss to have your drooling cunt ride his sexy features faster. “-give it t’me.” Greedy. “Give it alllll to me.”

But even that didn’t seem like enough.

Because even after your aggressive orgasm was petering out into mere tingles at your quivering pussy, even after he’d slurped up every tiny drop of your honeyed juices - Toji Fushiguro was starved.

So completely ravenous when he speaks, “I think…she’s sayin she wants ta squirt, doll.”

“Wh-what?” you’re breathing - you didn’t even know if that was possible.

With a surprising amount of gentleness, Toji’s placing you to sit all prettily on his spread legs. Just slobbering your pussy lips in an innocent smooch over his hardness.

“Heh, what? Don’t trust me?” Toji cocks his head down at you in sheer smugness, a glistening gloss stained all around his lips. It made him look so fucked-out. And he felt like he already was - but Toji wouldn’t admit that. No, he’s only murmuring a wet, “Or are ya scared that m’gonna get ya ah- addicted?”

You showcase him with a slight pout that makes his riled-up cock twitch in one hand. That makes him immediately kiss it away - letting you taste him. Taste yourself.

It’d already taken everything in him to stop himself from cumming just by making out with your cunt.

“No s’just that- I’ve never squirted before…”

His words are sure. Confident. He’s echoing them from not too long ago, “Lemme take a look at that.”

And apparently Toji’s definition of taking a look is to slide the curve of his thick thumb in-between your dribbling slit. Up and down until his lips curl in a smile, “Well she’s tellin’ me that she can-oh shit, look at that.” Those very same fingers wrapping around the hilt of his thick cock to nudge your folds apart. “So why don’t I fix that, hm?”

God, Toji is so much bigger than he looked - which was staggering considering his sheer bulge was enough to send your mind reeling.

The curve of his fat tip bathes in a few more of your syrupy drops before bullying inside-

“O-oh my god-” Your voice wavers, sweat simmering all down your body at how dizzyingly Toji was spearheading your cunt open. Wide. So much of him that you didn’t know whether to buck your hips away or down for more, more, more- “S’too big- shit, don’t even know if I can ngh- t-take it, Toji–!”

“Oh, say my name like that once more n’ you’re gonna ah- hafta take every inch.” he grunts out, snarling smile making your gummy walls flutter around him.

You’re being fed every solid inch, Toji’s girth making your tight circumference stutter. Gaping your sloppy hole wide open around his expanding cock- shit, just the slightest peak into your heavenly depths was enough to have his fat length swelling. Pushing into your tender sweet spots when he grows.

“Y-you got even bigger?” you gasp, and it makes him cackle.

Throwing his head back to laugh, “Of course I got f-fuckin’ bigger when you feel like this, ma.” And two of his roughened palms glide their greedy pathway downwards to spread your thighs even further. Using gravity to his lewd advantage to help you gulp down your every mindless grind to simply fit himself inside. “W-where have ya been all my life.”

And Toji sounded like he was genuinely distraught that he didn’t know.

He was genuinely so upset, lower lip wobbling with pure bliss once your overstuffed pussy was resting on his sharp hip bones. Giving an experimental little gyration of his hips to swirl his shaft around your walls, it makes you whine.

“Tha’s what m’fuckin’ talking about.”

And then in a split-second, you’re being slammed onto your back and wrangled into the meanest mating press you never thought possible.

It’s like Toji was out of control.

Feral.

A slight trickle of drool trailing down the edge of his growling lips, “Shit- take my fucking cock ngh- take it all, doll. Ya don’t know how long I’ve been d-dreaming of this.”

“Yes yes yes-” you sputter. Edging your uselessly limp thighs to lock around Toji’s straining neck - and if he was going easy on you before. Then oh, you weren’t ready for the way this makes him snap his flexing body down to fold you in half. His sweat-beaded forehead knocking gently into yours, “-been ah- been dreamin’ of this ever since I m-moved in-”

Shit.

The thick pudge of Toji’s relentless head careens into the bullseye of your g-spot easily. And Toji titters to himself about the pretty moans that drag from your shot throat - that is, if he had the self-control.

Because your previous words were still thundering in his pussydrunken mind, and it makes him gasp. It makes him shoot his eyes open almost comically, it makes him crash his lips into your with a sullen hiss. “Give a man a fuck- warning. You c-can’t just say- things- like- that-”

As if to prove his point, he’s planting a few more heated French kisses against your sweetest spots. How he mapped them out so quickly you had no idea.

His feverish breath hovers over your own mouth, gusts bounding out with every pound into your cunt. He’s bruising the circular branding of his sobbing tip down your spongy cervix, a tiny ah! of disappointment leaving Toji’s stern lips at the recoil that had him pushing back from the very bottom of your pussy.

He’s so filthy.

“Because what if–” It takes you a few seconds to realize that he’s still babbling drunkenly, flicking over a calloused thumb over your clit to get your delirious attention. “-are ya listening, woman? What- ah- what if I told ya I was the fuckin’ same. Wanted to f-fuck this cute cunt the moment I saw ya, wanted to ruin her- to breed her-”

And just when he’s heaving in such a sharp inhale. As if he’s spoken too much.

Yet, even through the way that Toji was fucking you stupid - you still manage to latch onto his words.

“Y-you wanted to ah- cum inside?” you’re blinking up at him innocently in a way that only made his hips jackhammer against yours harder. Teasing your sensitive clit with a pinch. “Tell me, Toji.”

God- you said his name.

Shit shit shit, didn’t he tell you not to-

“Yes!” Toji’s shuddering out, hefty balls twitching and thwacking their tight, cum-filled sacks against your ass. He’s fucking you so wildly. The mating press that he had you in let him glide a wet thrust down every single nook and cranny inside you. Every forbidden sweet spot. “Wanted- wanted it so badly- ah-”

Batting your teary lashes, “How badly?”

Two of Toji’s mean fingers come up to smush your cheeks together into an embarrassing pout, and he’s using that cutely ajar opening of your mouth to spit. A thick, honeyed wad of saliva that purposefully splatters along the edge of your lips - because Toji had perfect aim. He could’ve streamlined it all neatly between your lips.

But you looked and tasted so sweet this way.

When he could just kiss it away filthily with a drag of his tongue, “Shit- what a filthy fuckin’ mouth. Ya really know how to m-make me lose my mind, hm?” Splaying out one large palm about halfway down your stomach, he’s exploring for a lewd cylindrical nudge. A throb when his thickened head was smashing into your g-spot. “If ya i-insist- m’gonna fill ya up until I can feel it-” Pressing down. Hard. “Here.” And now he’s running his mouth a mile a minute, he’s dazed where his cadence grows sloppy. “Until you’re overspilling. Until yer all r-round and hngh- glowing and shit-”

God, he was flying too close to the sun.

Egging him on, he was fucking you into the bed like he was furious at you. Lurching out rickety creaks from the bedframe at his riotous slams! Teasing, “S-s’that it?”

“Is that it? I-is that it?” he’s repeating. Over and over like a humorless mantra. “No tha’s not- ah- fucking ‘it’. M’gonna shit- make you mine. Gonna fuck a b-baby or two into ya.” Shockwaves of electric white flashing down his spine when your gripping walls cling around him like a velvety channel. Stumbling through words, “So they’re gonna know- ah- th-they’re all gonna know what I did. Hah- how I ruined ya…”

You can only sob, “Toji– m’gonna-”

Stimulating tears gather up beside Toji’s eyelids with every pressurized ram, and he finds it in himself to rasp a drunken giggle. “G-gonna give Megumi a lil’ sibling, ma?”

He doesn’t have to hear your response, he doesn’t think he can. Because no sooner are you crashing into your orgasm that Toji is as well.

He realizes before you - far, far before you at how you were squirting.

Drizzling your juices in a coating gloss down his cock, his abs, some spattering up to Toji’s lips. He took a look into it alright.

Your bolting waves of bliss intruded by his rummaging cock. Twitching once. Twice. Before struggling out thick gushes of sweltering hot seed.

It’s splattering onto the very back of your bruised and battered cervix in a wet thwack! Oozing out the sides of your silt, you feel your gummy walls being inflated. The tug of ribbons upon ribbons of cum being fucked into sloshes inside and coats your melty walls like a second, sticky skin.

THUD!

Toji collapses onto his wearied forearms, caging you in with his big beefy biceps. Hips slowing down to tiny, subconscious ruts wrenching out the most obscene wet squelches. “Th-the heh- the fuckin’ bed.”

Only then are you batting your fatigued eyes open to realize that one side of the bed was sagging dangerously. “Toji did you b-break the bed?”

“Ah- so what?” And he’s scooping up your pliant body easily into his arms. Lifting you. Manhandling you. Pulling out of your split cunt for just a second to slam! you down onto your nearby work desk. The cool mahogany against your front makes you hiss, “I’ll jus’ t-take a ah- look at it.”

With this, he’s pressing down on the slightly bloated area near your cunt. Gaping. Gushing out thick remnants of his cum - it’s like he was playing around.

The sight so heavenly that with a dragged-out gasp he’s finding his weepy cock blast out a few more wispy strands of cum. Shit.

“Shit- marry me-” Toji’s throwing his head back with a whimper - a whimper - when his jolting cock veers dangerously into the territory of shooting overstimulated blanks. “Marry me I-I swear. Gonna ah- put a pretty ring on ya, my doll.”

Which is why he’s swirling around his greedy pointer around your gaping entrance. Toying with the creamy ring of seed that’d painted its way around his thick base. Toji pools a few creamy dredges on his fingers and shoves them into your babbling mouth. “Ngh- Toji–!”

“Nowww, let’s see ngh- already finished off th-the bed-” he’s rattling off. Counting on a few fingers of his, “-we have the ohhh fuck- don’t squeeze m-me like that, ma, m’still sensitive- this desk, the floor- the dryer.”

“The dryer?” you mewl. “But you j-jus’ fixed that-”

“Ah, consider it a lil’ payment…along with those panties of yours, of course.”

And it’s only later.

Hours and hours later, with your bed frame broken on one leg, your desk absolutely shattered, and your carpet soiled with a few whiteish rivulets that you’re finding yourself seated into a tight full nelson on top of the dryer. Toji still splitting you apart inside, shooting blanks before the front door rattles with a sudden knock! knock! knock!

A deep voice resounding from outside, “Anybody home? It’s Shiu Kong. Higuruma sent me here to fix the dryer.”

“Fuckin’ Shiu…wanna let him in?”

---

“Hello, Shiu? How did the fixing go?” It’s by the next day that Higuruma gets a call in the middle of his important business meeting. One that would probably stay with him for a long, long time. “What do you mean the dryer is broken beyond repair?!”

A/N. Hope you all have a lovely week <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

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