#if only i had mORE FUCKING /TIME/ on my hands with college.

[trvthservm]

let’s talk virgin!geto who might be inexperienced but knows what he wants.

you both have been dating for a good few months, early years of college and can’t get your hands off each other. he’s the sweetest boyfriend you could ask for, possessive sure but he always treats you right. it’s one of his first serious relationships while you had dated around before, plenty of experience up your sleeve. he makes sure to kiss your forehead, carry an extra jacket because he knows you will get cold and drives you around the city on his bike.

geto who’s ears are completely red when you spend the night with him for the first time ever. he made sure to kick his roommate out so he could have his complete attention on you. he cooks you your favourite meal and has your favourite rom com waiting to play on the television but deep down inside he’s busy thinking about how you look underneath all your clothes.

it’s not like you haven’t touched each other before. you find yourself often pushed against the library wall with geto’s pierced tongue in your mouth, his tattooed hand travelling under your top to play with your breasts. more than once you’ve been caught by a fellow student who had the misfortune of witnessing your very public display of affection instead of a physics textbook.

so when you are in his flat, hips straddling his thighs on his old couch, geto almost moans out loud. he watches you as you grind your ass against his clothed cock, not innocent on his side when he intentionally wore grey sweats. “slow do— fuck! slower! baby” he groans as your gyrating hips make him leak through, the friction between your shorts and his sweats enough to make his eyes roll back.

when he carries you to his bed and lies you flat, it’s like a dream come true. you pull down your shorts and stop, inviting him to do the rest. geto does not need anything more to use his pearly white teeth to drag your pretty black panties leaving it to hang around your ankle. he can’t afford to wait when all he has ever dreamed off is spread open waiting for him.

you look up to him with glossy eyes and your lip tucked under your teeth when you hear him say the words — “i have never done this before.”

confused you get up, supporting your body on your elbows. he looks away turning red at his own brazen admission, and only looks at you when you pull down his sweats to help release his girthy cock, precum beading at the tip. he groans when your much smaller hands begin to jerk him off, cooing about how good he is being for you. there’s a teasing tilt to your tone because it’s not everyday you learn your hot boyfriend is a secret virgin! you continue to jerk him off and tease him for acting tough when he decides can’t take it anymore, the way you talk to him like he’s too innocent to touch you back.

geto shows you that despite being your good boy, he can make you eat your shit eating grin when he pins your thighs down. his mouth is on your dripping cunt, tongue licking your clit in slow circles. he does not stop when you cum on his face, he does not stop to take a break when his ringed fingers enter your wet entrance, squishing and squelching echoing throughout. he does not stop until there’s a ring of your cream that parallels the silver rings he wears and the lower half of his face painted with your slick juices.

you don’t start worrying until he picks you up and holds your legs open in front of his full length mirror so he can slip his heavy cock past your spread folds and just to say, “fuck baby, wanted my first time to be in missionary looking at your pretty face but i think full nelson might be better for your bratty pussy.”

[cthulhus-curse]

Extra Credit

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 6,020

Warnings: Age Difference, Alluded CSA, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship | 18+ Minors DNI

A/N: Hopefully I scheduled this & the other fics correctly and not for the following year because I may no longer be around to fix it.

Summary: A series of snapshots of loving months alongside your professor which lead up to one of the most difficult decisions you’ve made in your life.

“Good morning, sunshine. Ready for another day of work?”

Although exhaustion ripped through your body, the sound of the woman’s voice made you smile. You learned to enjoy it through the past few weeks. Each day you woke up at what felt like the crack of dawn and went straight to work. Although it was right on campus, an office not too far from your dormitory, you weren’t used to being awake at such early hours. At least the pay was good and your boss was even better, you mused. 

“I can’t wait,” you replied flatly. Your boss, Professor Romanoff, came up to the desk you called a home ever since being hired. She held up two cups – one was her usual morning coffee and the other scalding hot chocolate topped off by a mountain of whipped cream. As always, she called you a child for picking that over anything caffeine-heavy. “Thanks for this.”

“No problem, sweetheart. Gotta keep my little assistant awake enough to get through the day,” Natasha chuckled. “Don’t worry, it won’t be heavy for you. We just have to get through grading some papers and then the rest of the shift is yours.”

The smirk remained plastered over your features as she handed you the hot chocolate before moving further in her office. Being the head of the English department at your university, Natasha got her privacy intact. It’s not like she was thrilled to work with her fellow professors anyway. 

“I heard there was a big party being hosted by your friends in the girl’s soccer team. I assume you’re planning on going?” Natasha’s tone was filled with curiosity, but never anger when she so much as alluded to your private life, specifically that having to do with one Wanda Maximoff. “I can let you go a few hours early if you need to get ready. Classes are done for the semester and you need to enjoy your college years. I’m sure Miss Maximoff would be happy to see you again. I know she means a lot to you.”

Ever since you had accepted the job as Natasha’s assistant, Wanda had given you the cold shoulder. You had spoken to her from time to time, but only when she came back to the dorm after days of being away, only to leave once again. At first you blame yourself for causing a rift in your relationship, if one could even call it that, but eventually you came to realize just how immature she was – taking a simple job offer did not mean your feelings for her changed in any way. 

“I actually haven’t seen her in awhile. She’s staying at Carol and Val’s place I think,” you shrugged while taking a sip of your drink. The way it burned its way onto your tongue and down your throat caused you to hum happily. 

“Oh? And how are you feeling about that?”

“I’m taking it pretty well. You know she’s not very fond of you and I think I pissed her off by agreeing to work for who she deems as ‘a fucking witch bitch’. It’s just childish and stupid,” you rolled your eyes at the mere idea of it. “I hate being someone’s second choice like that. She doesn’t even see how much I love her.”

Just like Wanda didn’t see you, you didn’t see Natasha. Your professor was crestfallen at the voices you threw at her. She hated seeing you in such pain, not being able to do anything about the mistreatment you received from your casual fling. The older woman cared for you, perhaps more than she led on – the mere image of seeing you in pain made bile rise up your throat before it was maintained in place. 

“Then it’s her loss. You deserve better than that, honey. You’re an amazing, beautiful, and smart woman. You don’t need to be sitting around waiting for someone to notice you. If she doesn’t like you the same way you like her, then it’s time to move on,” Natasha explained as she attempted to keep her own emotions at bay. She threw a sympathetic look your way even if you didn’t notice it. “Listen Y/N, I know we aren’t as close as you are with Miss Maximoff, but I care about you. You are by far my brightest student yet and I see so much potential in you. You don’t deserve to be thrown around like trash, only used when she gets bored with someone else. You deserve the world.”

“Yeah? And who’s gonna give me that?”

The ‘me’ went unspoken from Natasha. She simply sagged her head and stared down at the mountain of paperwork laying in her desk. It would be to no avail if she decided to work – with a brain oozing with thoughts of you, her focus disrupted. 

“How about we try something different today? We can work for a bit and then I can take you out for lunch. My treat,” Natasha said. “How does that sound? I just hate seeing you like this, sweetie.”

You thought about it for a second. There was something awfully safe about Natasha. As much as you wished to spend countless hours obsessing over Wanda, sometimes you found yourself humoring the idea of your professor. She was sweet, always protective as she huffed at the idea of you being hurt. At first you assumed it was some sort of motherly instinct, but after having caught yourself staring down her cleavage from time to time, the top buttons of her blouse always open, and she stared back with a smile, you knew something much more intimate lay beneath. 

“I’d like that,” you replied, suddenly drunk on Natasha’s presence as Wanda was left behind. 

“Good! Now time to work, hon. You don’t get paid to sit all day and look pretty,” the redhead chuckled at her own joke, suddenly feeling much more rejuvenated. “If you finish quickly, maybe we can grab some dessert as well.”

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A shudder ran down your body as hands traveled across your back. Fingernails left heavy trails in their wake, surely to be worn with the utmost pride. You hummed, eyes closed while holding still, standing there naked as the day you were born. In the dusk of the room, you let yourself be the center of attention; the center of her attention. 

“What did she do this time?” Natasha asked from behind. Her mouth was quickly upon your upper back, kissing its way along your shoulder blades. Never did she lose her tenderness when touching you. “Tell me, darling girl. Use your words.”

You didn’t know when it had begun. One day you were at work standing in front of your boss’s desk before you became trapped against it. The first time Natasha kissed you was then and there. Neither could hold back the attraction you shared for one another. No longer did you prioritize Wanda as you allowed your professor to take you. 

“I found her sleeping with Kate. She was…she was laying in my bed, Nat. I saw them and just ran away. She fucked her in my bed!” You sobbed, but didn’t allow yourself to shed tears. Not long before you had promised yourself never to cry over Wanda again. “I didn’t know who else to go to. I just thought of you and ran.”

“Oh baby, I’m so sorry. I hate that she keeps hurting you,” Natasha mumbled back as she hugged you from behind. “Don’t you dare run away this late at night again. You know how much I worry about you. I’m just a phone call away, malyshka. Always.” 

“I’m sorry,” you responded before biting down on your lip. “I promise I’ll be good from now on. Your good girl, right?”

“Darling, you are always my good girl.”

Natasha motioned you to get on the bed, your head against a pillow as your ass remained up in the air. She allowed her hands to roam over your backside, smirking as a hand went down against a cheek. It was only a soft hit. Never did Natasha wish to inflict any horrid pain over you. As her eyes noticed the faint bruises Wanda left along your skin, she huffed. 

The redhead stood over you. She carried a dildo between her legs that was attached to a harness. Similar to you, she was fully nude minus for the red briefs she wore. Strong arms reeking with muscles held you close. As she inched the toy between your legs, you let out a loud moan. 

“I don’t like how she hurts you. I know you like it, Y/N, but she leaves you looking like a piece of meat. Does she even take care of your wounds, baby? Or does she leave you like that after hitting you until you’re crying out for her to stop?” Natasha questioned, already knowing what the answer was. Ever since first seeing your body, she was the one who took care of you as a surrogate for Wanda. “I know I can’t control what you do, but honey, this isn’t right. I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

Rather than vocalize your response, you hid your face against the pillow. Natasha slid inside you softly, allowing the dildo to fill you with ease. There was a grunt that you basked upon – it was low and throaty filled with your professor’s longing desire. She used all her force to drag you into a makeshift sitting position. From then on, Natasha allowed herself to, only gently, give you the pleasure Wanda failed to gift you with. 

“I want more,” you begged, eyes rolled to the back of your head the further Nat moved inside of you. Movements were languid and sloppy. All the older woman focused on was your own pleasure, not speed or roughness. Unlike Wanda, she took her time getting to know exactly what to do and how to touch you. “Please, mommy, I need more!”

“Whatever you want, my little angel.”

Natasha did not spend time rummaging through the newfound honorific. She beamed at it, but didn’t comment on anything. Instead, she thrust her hips forth fucking you with love that Wanda never gave you. Kisses were spread all across your back. Each grunt, each little noise she made mixed with your own, made you feel in heaven. 

Hands gripped your breasts from behind. They squeezed the mounds tightly, rolling erect nipples through the fingers. As Natasha pumped the strap-on in you, your cunt dripping with juices while velvety walls hugged her tight, she brought a hand down your body. Fingertips pressed against your clit and began teasing it, flicking the bud as you screamed loudly – surely her neighbors would hear. 

“You’re doing so well for me, Y/N. Just look at how you’re taking my cock. My pretty, little girl,” Natasha moaned when hugging you tight. She nuzzled her face against your shoulder before nipping your skin. There were various hickeys left upon you, signs for Wanda to see if you ever dared return to her. Natasha knew you weren’t hers, but each second she spent with you made her crave you even more. “I bet she can’t fuck you like this, can she? That little…she can’t make you feel this good. Only I can make it better. I’m the only one that will ever keep you safe and you know this.”

When you finally came, Natasha was there to keep you close. She remained frozen in place as your orgasm shot through your body. Not even a second passed before she inched you on the bed, allowing you to rest upon the soft mattress with the dildo still inside you. 

“I never want to see you hurt again. If she ever does this to you, if you end up going back, I want you to call me when you need me. I never break a promise,” Natahsa muttered as she placed a kiss over the back of your head. “I’ll always keep you safe.”

From then on, you found yourself hesitating each time you merely humored the idea of going back to Wanda. Even if you told yourself that the relationship with Natasha was nothing more than platonic, you questioned the validity of such a statement. Every second you spend with her, you fall further for your professor. 

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“Tell me about your family.”

The two of you had escaped the cruel Bostonian summer filled with never-ending traffic and burning skyscrapers. It was the dead-center of the season and the entire city was plagued by a mix of potential commuters for the various academic institutions or those who, for some reason, decided for it to be her vacation destination.

Natasha had taken you away to a small town across the state. It was remote, small enough so that the two of you could enjoy your life in public without the student body of the university to find you. All you had done was pack all the bags you could muster for the weekend getaway. It was peace which became well-deserved. 

You weren’t much of a fan of them, but Nat had always spoken highly of the times she took her sister to pick out peaches ever since she first learned how to drive. The two of them would escape into an orchard in the depths of Ohio and come out with their hands full with fruits. The mere memory she shared with you was enough to get you to agree to her plans. 

“Well, there’s really not much to talk about. I was adopted by Melina and Alexei,” Natasha began as though it was the most casual thing in the world to refer to her parents by their given names. “I have a sister, also adopted, named Yelena. She’s the light of my life. A bit of an asshole I must say, but she’s the one I care about most.”

“Yelena Belova? That’s your sister?” You asked with furrowed eyebrows; it was a name similar to that of a member of Wanda’s team. 

“Yes. I realize she’s friends with Miss Maximoff,” Natasha replied with apparent dismay. “As hard as I’ve tried to keep her away from that girl, the two are almost inseparable. I trust her enough to not do anything overly stupid though. Lena has always been a bit of a firecracker.”

The two of you walked hand in hand along the orchard. There was not a label to whatever you had yet, but it didn’t care. Natasha was clear when she said she would never pressure you into it. Instead, you allowed yourself to be a free agent who, at times, found yourself wishing to have something more with your professor. 

Eyes roamed over the woman’s body. Usually you saw her in professional clothes or the occasional nightgown when you stayed over at her place, but never with a pair of shorts and a loose camisole. There were sunglasses shielding Natasha’s viridescent eyes from the sun, but you had looked into them for long enough to memorize their beauty. 

You noticed how she covered her body from time to time, hands over her thighs, cowering away from the nonexistent public that dared gawk in her general direction. It hurt to see. She was the perfect image of beauty to you, but a disgusting void to herself. 

There were rare moments in which Natasha allowed you to touch her. She was a fan of studying each and every one of your favorite sweet spots, running hands across your skin before making you giggle under the drunkenness of arousal. The few times you had placed your palms upon her frame you did so in a tender manner – Nat was a porcelain doll under your touch who could break at any seconds. It merely lasted a few seconds before she pushed you off and rushed to apologize for acting out, only for you to shoot her a warm smirk and tell her there was nothing wrong with that. 

Shaking your head, you brought yourself back to the present and carried on. 

“Yeah, your sister’s always been nice to me though. She’s not as close with Wanda if that makes you feel better. I’ve mostly seen her chasing around that Kate girl. Maybe it’s an underclassmen thing,” you shrugged. “What about your parents?”

There was a pregnant pause, clear hesitation, before Natasha continued.

“Well, I never met my biological family nor did I care about seeking them out. My mom has always been amazing,” Natasha stopped for a second, her hands gliding across the peaches that she carefully eyed. “My father…not so much.”

“Why do you refer to her as mom and him as father?” came your question before you could help yourself.

It was clear her demeanor had changed. Natasha stood with her back straight, hands clasped in front of her as a means to shield herself. She only stared forth into nothingness. Her body was with you in the orchard while her mind went back to when she was a child – to when she was alone with him. 

“It makes it less personal,” she finally answered. “It’s also easier than calling him ‘the man whose wife wanted to adopt two kids he never wanted’ and then turned my childhood to shit. I grew up way too fast because of that…that durak!”

The yelp she let out was fueled with emotions you had yet to see. Natasha was rarely angry, let alone emotionally vulnerable to let you peek through her walls. Her body sagged after fighting so long being tense. You could see tears rushing down her face even with sunglasses that covered them, but knew not to make a comment.

“Nat, has he ever…?”

You didn’t want to humor such a thing. Even then, you already knew the answer given her body language and unspoken words. While you fought with the idea of potentially driving to her father’s house and beating him to a pulp, Natasha found herself glad it had been her over Yelena. If something were to happen to her sister, she would never forgive herself. Each time he came at night, the woman sacrificed herself. It was a small price to pay for her beloved sibling’s safety. 

“I don’t want to talk about it, baby,” Natasha said with a cracked voice, turning the other way to move further into the orchard. You gave her space knowing that whenever she felt comfortable enough to talk, she would. All you could do was follow along as the professor whispered again. “I’m sorry.”

But behind her broken tone, deep down, you could hear a younger Nat’s faint cry of ‘yes’. 

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There were moments in which exhaustion overtook you during long tedious days. You could barely move a muscle and still feel as though life had been sucked out of you. Most of your summer was spent chasing around Natasha, who you remained working for throughout the following months with little to no workload. Being around the woman, doing mere iced coffee runs and chatting without a care in the world while in the office made you feel free for once in a lifetime – for the first time since you met Wanda, she was an afterthought. 

Natasha was quick to jump in and take care of you through those moments. She always acted out in small, loving ways when paying for your food, giving you rides, or merely holding your hand as the two of you walked into your next adventure. Her desperation to hold you in her arms and promise you all would be well was intense. There was love radiating from her a mile away which you were far too shortsighted to see. 

“Tell me what you need, malyshka. Come on, little darling, use your words.”

After a particularly difficult day, you found yourself safe in Natasha’s lap. There had been no overexertion of your being during that day. It had mostly been relaxing as you worked alongside your professor on a Friday, but when you received a call from Wanda midday, the woman asking you to meet up, you merely froze and broke down in the office – your ‘friend’ only reached out when she needed something from you and it had been nearly a month since you last spoke amicably. After you only hummed as a reply and ended the call, Natasha was there to break your fall. 

“Mommy’s here for you. I know today has been a really difficult day and that you’ve felt really stressed, but I don’t want you focusing on those icky thoughts. I just wish she didn’t hurt you like this,” came the older woman’s whisper as she pulled you close. The two of you had rushed out of the office even hours before Natasha liked calling it quits. Even as behind as she was with her future lesson planning, she still prioritized you before anything else. “Use your words, detka. Tell mommy how she can help.”

“I don’t even want to think,” you flatly mumbled with tears threatening to fall down your eyes. Hands gripped the professor’s clothes while your forehead lay frozen in her shoulder. With arms wrapped around your body you finally felt safe. “Please help me forget, Nat. I never want to think about her again. I just-” your words were cut short by a short while your voice was left cracked. 

“Shh it’s alright, my darling girl. Mommy’s here to make it all better.”

While holding you tight, Natasha allowed a hand to slip down your body. It snuck to your lap then between your legs. No teasing was found – she knew you how overwhelmed you were and was ready to give you whatever you wished for without question. When naked fingers went past the waistline of your sweats and underwear, landing upon your already throbbing sex, you couldn’t hold back a throaty moan. 

You quickly realized Natasha wanted to separate herself from the man who agreed to adopt her. He was rough, violent, and torturous much like how she saw Wanda, whereas your professor never failed to bring a smile to your face even as she smacked your backside harshly — she always soothed the skin with the palm of her hand before carrying on. She wanted, no, needed to break away from his grasp over her mind. Otherwise she’d end up as a battered slave of his once again. 

Fingertips brushed against your clit then studied the entirety of your slit while coating themselves in your everlasting slick. Natasha peppered your wet cheeks, filled with desolate tears, with kisses. She mumbled only the sweetest words while easing herself in you. You cried out about your sorrows, about Wanda’s mistreatment over you, while the older woman simply sat there and held you through it. 

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. Anyone who dares make you feel this bad is an idiot. Y/N, my love, you deserve the world,” Natasha said lovingly. She nuzzled her face against your own, foreheads pressed together with fingers knuckle-deep inside your cunt. You couldn’t even muster the enthusiasm to grind on them. Instead, you remained shaking as Natasha made it all better. “You never let yourself be treated like that by anyone, alright? Whether it’s Miss Maximoff or me, or anyone else. My darling angel should be treated as the princess she is. You’re one of a kind, honey, a perfect little bear. I never want you to forget just how valuable your existence is.”

Tears of joy were mixed with your gloomy ones. There were cries of pleasure and internal pain that Natasha never stopped supporting you through. She allowed her lips to touch down upon your own. With your orgasm approaching soon and her tender care, you were elated. 

“My sweet baby,” came Natasha’s hushed whisper. She made you come, your back arching while fingernails dug deep into the redhead’s outfit. There was a loud moan, though distant, that boomed across the room. Even as you fell apart, strong arms held you in place. Such a wondrous creature such as yourself, according to your boss, deserved to see the stars. “You did such a good job for mommy. Always my perfect girl,” she breathed out with fingers still deep inside you. “All mine.”

You swore there was a muttered ‘I love you’ thrown somewhere, but with the mix of mental and physical exhaustion raining down upon your body, you merely shrugged your shoulders and fell limp against Natasha. Although you wouldn’t admit it, your heart longed to say the words back – out of everyone in your life, you never expected to fall into the depths of love with your professor. 

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“I don’t know why you like this show so much. It’s just senseless killing and at the end they solve everything and go home.”

Although it was supposed to be a relaxing weekend towards the start of the Fall semester, you found the mind boggling statement to fill you with feigned rage. Even as classes began, the arrangement between you and the professor carried on. You still worked for her even if there were no classes in said semester you took with you. As disappointing as that was, you began seeing more of Natasha regardless in more ways than one. 

The two of you were sitting on the couch late one Friday night. You were exhausted with your course load and Natasha cursed off the new freshmen she had to teach; they always pretended to still be in high school. A bowl of popcorn was nestled between your legs. While you watched Criminal Minds, Natasha settled for insulting it. 

“It’s fun, Romanoff. Entertaining at the very least.” you shot back with a knowing smirk. You had been the one to introduce her to various shows. Who would’ve thought that the great Professor Romanoff was living underneath a rock her whole life? 

“Wow I’ve been demoted from mommy to Romanoff. That’s sad,” Natasha laughed before grabbing a handful of popcorn. “Who’s your favorite character?”

“Probably Rossi,” came your shrug. “He’s the guy with the beard.”

“Really?” At the surprised tone your lover let out, you feigned offense. “I thought you’d like one of the girls. What about that brunette with the bangs?”

“Oh, Emily left for the Interpol. I would like JJ, but I don’t know. There’s just something cool about Rossi in this season.”

The two of you remained silent for a few seconds. It wasn't awkward, but then again, nothing was with Natasha by your side. Even if you slipped and fell in front of her, you wouldn’t feel embarrassed. The woman never judged you, instead supporting your every decision while also guiding you through life. You felt comfortable enough with her to be yourself. At times it felt as though it was you and Nat against the world. 

“Maybe you just have daddy issues,” Natasha casually offered. Moment passed before the two of you burst out laughing. Tears sprinkled in your eyes while your breath left your body. With the amusement that basked in the room, you both were giggling messes. 

“Hey!” you huffed when gaining some of your composure back and lightly slapping Natasha’s shoulder. “We both have daddy issues.”

“Fine, but I have more than you. Mostly because I’ve never actually met my real dad. Maybe he’s an asshole like Alexei,” Natasha giggled. She never failed to look radiant as ever, especially when laughing and seemingly worry-free. You had to do several double takes because the beauty that exuded from your professor was far too enthralling to break away from. As the laughter died down and you were left holding one another, her head on your shoulder while you leaned back against the couch, she spoke. “I want you to be my girlfriend, Y/N.” 

You had both agreed to keep things unofficial and yet there was that unmistakable skip of a beat your heart underwent when Natasha spoke her words. Teeth gnawed at your bottom lip nervously. There were striking green eyes which made it difficult for you to ignore the pegged comment. While your heart longed you to reply with a ‘yes’, to finally be Natasha’s forever, your mouth reacted differently. 

For the rest of the evening the two of you sat by and finished watching the show. Natasha was silent as she ghosted over her house, leaving you alone in the living room before hiding out in her bedroom. It was the first night in months that you slept in the guest room by yourself. And to your dismay, you went to sleep listening to Natasha’s quiet sobs that escaped the privacy of her bedroom. You had felt bad for Wanda when she got sad about you seeing your professor casually, but listening to the redhead’s woes was synonymous with your heart being squeezed to death. 

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

It was October when you fell in love. 

You returned to your dorm room days later behind the guise of assuming Natasha wished for you to be far away. She had barely spoken a word to you at work. Most of the time she sat by her desk with sagged shoulders, glasses perched at the edge of her nose, and glossy eyes hiding behind the frames. You desperately wished to say something, but when Wanda sweeped back into your life, the guilt ate at you until nothing was left behind. 

The Fall semester quickly rolled by. You were at the end of the month and still couldn’t sleep without seeing Natasha’s face tainted in your mind. At times when Wanda lay above you, hips thrusting with straps wrapped around them and letting out low grunts, you closed your eyes and imagined it was the older woman. The memories of her doing the same were soaked with humiliation. You had broken her heart, you knew. Never would you dare forgive yourself for having caused so much pain upon the frail, angelic woman. 

“I hate her so much,” Wanda had grumbled when you walked through campus hand-in-hand passing by a certain professor whose sight was solemnly trained on the floor. Your hand was squeezed as your eyes drifted to Natasha. As much as she seemingly hated you, all you wanted to do was run up to her, wrap her in your arms, and bed for forgiveness. Even if it would take ages, she was worth it. “Fucking bitch.”

Perhaps it was Wanda’s comment or the fact that you finally gained enough confidence through your depressive episode to take action, but that night you found yourself standing in front of Natasha’s house. Your roommate was long forgotten and for the first time in your life, you couldn’t care less about who she was fucking. All that mattered was the woman you, without admitting it, had fallen for. 

There was a desperate knock upon the hardwood door. There was furious rain which fell down upon your body. That along with the cool breeze of the night made you freeze in place. Still, you felt as though you deserved it. Even then, you’d do whatever it took for Natasha. 

“It’s 10pm on a Wednesday, Y/N. Someone better be dying,” were the first words Natasha spoke to you once the door swung open in a low grumbled voice you knew to be from when she awoke. “To what do I owe the displeasure? Did you come here to tell me how great Miss Maximoff is compared to-”

You cut her off by practically tackling Natasha into the house. Even if your body was dripping with the tears of the sky, you clung to the woman as though your life depended on it. She was clearly taken aback and yet never moved away. Instead her arms were left unmoving as you embraced her. That was good enough for you, you assumed. 

Putting your heart on the line has never been easy. You were the person who shoved her emotions so deep down that you somehow told yourself Wanda was the one for you. Although she hurt you so much, you still remained by her side. It wasn’t difficult to assume Natasha had felt something similar when you rejected her. She had spent countless months giving you the utmost love and never daring to ask for anything in return. You were always protected by her mere presence until one day you decided to throw it all away. Going to her house, you were without hope of being taken back. There was slight hesitation reeking in your chest, but as soon as you saw your former lover, you swore you fell for her once again – she would forever be worth it. 

“I’m the world’s biggest fucking idiot and I admit it. I should’ve said yes to you,” you began. Life had been tedious without Natasha even if only for a few weeks. You hated how only a cold slap in the face in the shape of one Wanda Maximoff could awaken you from such a dismal nightmare. “I hurt you so badly and I never, ever expect for you to take me back. I was an asshole. A svo-lach' if you will,” you could practically feel Natasha’s slight smirk at the mention of a Russian word she had taught you. “I miss you and I don’t think I can do this without you. It’s probably stupid since we weren’t with each other for ages. It wasn’t official and yet I can’t stop thinking about you. I want you to be my girlfriend. It’s always been you, Nat and it always will be.”

No words were spoken as the door was locked and you were dragged to the bedroom. Even if dripping with water, Natasha helped undress you. She threw you against the bed, viridescent eyes twinkling under the dead of the night before taking her rightful position over your body. There was not an area of your freezing body that she didn’t kiss her way through as sudden warmth radiated from her skin and onto yours. 

When you first kissed her after weeks of being away, you swore there were fireworks going off. Never had kissing Wanda felt even remotely good or similar. You were enthralled by the way Natasha was seemingly everywhere. Her hands drifted up your body before taking your breasts into her palms and squeezing them, nipples rolling through her fingers before being pinched – she did always have an adorable fixation on your chest. There was a sense of longing within her. The two of you hadn’t been together for far too long. During the rest of the night, you explored what was missed, holding one another as cries of pleasure were let out. 

Positions were switched from time to time. Natasha would be on top before you pushed her against the mattress and had your head disappear between her legs. There was nothing to be said. You two communicated through sweet and rough touches, connecting as one without the need for words. There was a moment when you made her squirt, legs shaking as your fingers were dug deep inside her cunt. Natasha was left wide-eyed and suddenly droopy while you lapped at the mess – even when a spent mess, she was the most beautiful woman in the universe. 

When neither of you could keep going it was already the early hours of the morning. Your bodies were sore and marked with the reddened tracks of fingernails. It was the first time in ages that you finally felt as though you belonged. Natasha was your person, she was safe, and she was home. It was then that you, while fingers trailed across the back of the woman’s hand, decided never to dare leave her again. 

“I love you,” she muttered once you were breathing raggedly, laying back on the bed with bodies intertwined and hearts aligned. You felt yourself crawl out of your skin, frowning as the words were spoken. Without even daring to turn around, you went to grab Natasha’s hand. When squeezing it, you gave her your response. 

You couldn’t say it out loud, but she knew then you loved her too.

[luvmahae]

masterlist — previous — next!

SM DOME how the fuck we feelin?

it’s motherfuckin rave day and guess where we are? sm dome baby!

what’s better than being surrounded by dudes rocking jerseys, half-buttoned shirts, or just straight up going shirtless? and the girls? they’ve got the looks on lock—tiny tops, bottoms barely covering their asses, and of course, the fishnets.

everywhere you look, there’s kandi stacked high on wrists, led gloves lighting up the crowd, and the unmistakable haze of cigarettes, weed, and a rainbow of vape flavors hanging in the air. mango, watermelon, blue razz… you name it!

outside the main doors leading to the floor, some people are already completely fucked up. the night’s still young... right? spoiler: it’s only the openers playing right now. the main section of the venue is pure organized chaos—lines snaking to the bar, the merch booth, the bathroom. and the longest line of all? you guessed it. the water stations.

and this? this is just the beginning of what promises to be one hell of a night. 

chenle leads the way to the water stations, his camelbak slung over his shoulders. you and the others follow, weaving through the swarms of people, the energy of the venue running through your veins.

“me, chenle, and jisung are in charge of water tonight.” renjun says, filling the pouch inside of his camelbak at the dispenser.

once the boys finish loading up their camelbaks, the group rallies together, heading toward the floor entrance. mark’s hands rest on Ningning’s shoulders while she clings to chenle’s hand, letting him take the lead. you fall into place behind jeno, fingers gripping his shoulders like a train of carefree, slightly chaotic college kids.*

the crowd is packed, a sea of people all swaying, talking, dancing, you name it. john summit’s final stop in seoul has brought out a massive crowd—more than you had expected, but it’s the kind of energy that gets your adrenaline pumping.

the group moves through the crowd, inching forward towards the middle, where you’ve learned from past events that the view from here is the best. as you get closer to the center, the sights become even more overwhelming—the neon lights, the lasers cutting through the air, the thumping bass reverberating through your body. the visuals are going to be insane.

“right here.” 

the group forms a loose circle, finally getting a chance to breathe for a moment before the madness begins.

“y/n you have the baggie right?” 

“oh right i do!” 

you glance down at your top, tugging on the fabric to pull out the small ziplock bag tucked in your bra. as you pass it to jeno, you notice everyone staring at you with a mix of surprise and amusement—especially the guys.

“you hid it… in there?!”

“i mean… it works out all the time. mark, do you really think security is gonna pat my boobs down?”

“honestly that’s smart as fuck.”

“i mean thank god y/n has tits!” jaemin adds, earning a playful shove from you as the laughter continues.

jeno scans the area, his eyes flicking around for any sign of security before unzipping the mini ziplock bag. 

“john summit’s set starts at 9:30, so let’s pop these now.” 

one by one, everyone pops their pills, and there’s something about it that feels weirdly intimate. you take a quick sip from chenle’s camelbak after, the cold water hitting just right against the growing warmth spreading through your body.

the opener’s set is still going as the pill starts to settle inside you, your body already humming in anticipation. the crowd roars with excitement, the opener throwing down banger after banger, turning up the energy in the venue.

thirty minutes later, the opening notes of “shiver” echo through the venue, crisp and electrifying, vibrating straight through your chest. the whole group erupts into cheers, their excitement blending seamlessly with the roar of the crowd. the lights flash brighter, neon beams slicing through the darkness as the music builds, and the energy of the night kicks up a notch.

and then, it hits.

at first, it’s a gentle wave of warmth that rolls through you, and then it intensifies—almost like the music is coursing through your veins, the euphoria spreading from your chest to your fingertips. the energy is contagious, with everyone belting out the words, hands in the air, bodies swaying to the beat.

renjun pulls out a pack of gum and starts handing it around. you take a piece, popping it into your mouth just as the familiar jaw-clenching begins to set in. the sharp, sweet flavor helps ground you, even as your body starts buzzing, every sensation heightened to an almost unreal intensity.

jeno waves a handheld fan at the group, his effort to combat the heat appreciated as the air thickens with the crowd’s energy. the sweat, the flashing lights, and the pulsing music all blur together, each sensation melding into the next. your skin sticky from the heat, the lights flashing too fast to follow, the music vibrating through your bones, every beat hitting harder than the last.

the group is fully in it now, rolling hard as ever. eyes half-lidded, jaws working on the gum, bodies swaying and bouncing to the music without a care. mark and ningning are practically bouncing off each other, moving together in perfect sync, feeding off each other’s excitement. 

“look at you guys gooooo!” chenle shouts, laughing as he jumps into the circle with exaggerated moves, making ningning double over with laughter.

you can’t help but join in, the sheer joy of the moment pulling you closer. the music, the lights, the people—it’s all blending together into one perfect, unforgettable night.

karina is the first to stumble, her eyes blinking rapidly as the effects of the pill settle over her. she stumbles back, her shoulders colliding with jeno’s chest.

“whoa, whoa- easy.” he says quickly, steadying her with a firm hand.

she looks up at him, her eyes wide and glazed over, chewing her gum aggressively. “i don’t feel so good right now.” she admits, her voice soft but shaky.

jeno, rolling just as hard as she is, grins at her, his face softening with concern despite his own euphoric state. “you’re good. i’ve got you,” he reassures her, his hands gently massaging her temples.

“renjun, water.”

renjun nods and immediately pulls the mouthpiece of the camelbak and hands it over. he flashes karina a quick thumbs-up, his attempt at lightening the moment.

“it’s all in your head rina. you got this! just have fun!”

she takes a long sip, the cool water washing down the rising heat in her chest, grounding her just enough to breathe easier. jeno fans her with one hand, his other still steady on her shoulder

“thank you.”

the overwhelming sensations start to mellow, and for a moment, she just leans into him, finding comfort in his presence.

his grin widens as he looks down at her, holding her close until she’s ready to move again. 

“anytime.”

the energy in the group builds as the music pulses through the venue, but ningning suddenly stops dancing, her eyes wide with excitement.

“can someone please give me a shoulder ride?! this is my favorite song! i need to record it NOW!”

jaemin’s grin is instant, mischievous and wide. he crouches without a second thought, patting his shoulders.

“get on!”

she doesn’t hesitate, her laughter bright as she hooks her legs over his shoulders. with a swift push, he lifts her into the air, her squeal of delight blending with the music. she wobbles for a second before steadying herself, one hand gripping his hair lightly for balance while the other raises her phone high to start recording.

“holy shit, john summit is REAL! i love you!”

“you better send me those videos later!”

“jaem don’t let me go okay!”

“i got you! just go crazy!”

“you’re seriously the best!”

he sways to the beat, effortlessly keeping her balanced as she waves her phone around, capturing the moment. his grin never falters, his energy syncing with hers as the track explodes into its euphoric drop.

jisung is completely captivated by the lasers, his eyes locked on the vibrant display, wide with awe. a grin stretches across his face as he chews on his gum, lost in the rhythm of the lights. a girl approaches him, her energy just as high as his, and they start dancing side by side.

she leans in, her voice playful. “you like the lights, huh?”

“they’re fucking insane.”

she laughs and pulls him by the hands, her body swaying to the rhythm of the music, effortlessly guiding him into the groove.

“dance with me, yeah?”

you, on the other hand, are feeling the effects a little differently. while the others are bouncing around and grinning like crazy, you feel lighter—almost like your body is floating. you sway to the music, eyes closed, your body moving with the beats like a feather in the wind.

it’s when you stumble backwards that you feel haechan’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling you gently against him.

“you good?”

you smile, leaning back into him, your body relaxed in his arms. “yeah… this pill is strong as fuck, holy shit.” you admit, your voice slurring slightly, but it doesn’t even matter.

he chuckles softly, the sound sending a pleasant shiver through you. his breath is warm against your ear as he whispers, “told you.”

the music swirls around you, and in that moment, you lose your footing again. he catches you effortlessly, pulling you back into his embrace, his chin resting lightly on the top of your head.

“i got you.”

you lean into him, closing your eyes, feeling the warmth of his body grounding you in the otherwise dizzying world of lights and sound. 

“just feel the music y/n.” he murmurs, his voice soft, steady, and comforting in contrast to the chaos around you.

when the opening beats of “what a life” burst through the speakers, the group instinctively comes together, forming a loose circle. arms draped over each other's shoulders, pulling everyone close as the music sways in time with the electric euphoria filling the air.

“i love you guys soooooo muchhhh!” 

“best fucking night everrrrrr!” 

“guys i’m seriously rolling tits right now!”

“tell molly i love her too!”

“god i am literally so happy. let me kiss all of you… NOW!” 

you giggle as you stumble from person to person, planting a quick, sloppy kiss on each cheek, feeling the warmth of the crowd and the love flooding around you.

“that’s our girl. classic y/n.” chenle teases from the side, the group erupting in laughter. 

then it’s haechan’s turn. when you reach him, the kiss lingers—just a second longer than the others. you feel his skin grow warm under your lips, and when you pull back, his eyes are already locked on yours, their intensity cutting through the haze of the night.

♪ what a life, what a time to be free

as the night winds down, the group finally makes its way back to the cars. the buzz of the pills has faded, but the sense of connection remains. you walk side by side with haechan, your hands brushing occasionally as the faint hum of conversations floats between your group.

you glance at him, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “i’ve got something for you, by the way,” you say, pulling a small green beaded bracelet from your pocket.

“you made kandi just for me? cute.”

“i actually made some for the group... but i couldn't forget about you too.”

“you know what’s funny? i actually made one for just you.”

your breath catches slightly as he pulls a pink beaded bracelet from his jacket pocket. the way the beads shimmer under the streetlights makes your heart flutter, but it’s the glimmer in his eyes that really gets you.

“you know what to do,” he says, holding the bracelet out, his tone both teasing and sincere.

peace. you both raise your hands, forming matching peace signs and holding them for a beat before moving on.

love. your hands curve into hearts, the symmetry between you so natural it feels like second nature.

unity. your palms meet, warm and steady against one another. there’s an intimacy in the quiet contact that makes your chest tighten in the best way.

respect. your fingers interlace with his, soft and deliberate, but instead of letting go, he holds on. his grip is firm yet gentle, grounding you in the moment as he slips the bracelet onto your wrist with his free hand.

you slide the blue and white kandi onto his wrist in return, the action simple but so much more meaningful than it has any right to be.

he doesn’t let go. instead, his fingers stay threaded with yours as he guides you toward the rest of the group, his thumb brushing lightly against the back of your hand.

you know,” he says, his voice low enough that only you can hear, “this might be my favorite part of the night.”

you glance up at him, a soft feeling blooming in your chest as the night air wraps around you. “mine too.” you admit, the words barely more than a whisper.

and as you walk toward the others, your hand still in his, it feels like a quiet promise—something neither of you needs to say out loud.

♪ what a life, what a time to be you, and me

wc: 2.2k

notes: update on christmas day lets get it 😎 long awaited rave chapter and i am honestly.... living for it 100%. writing this made me relive the past events ive been to irl and ugh 10/10 feeling (not the comeup but everything past that YESSS!) plus im actually dying at the john summit twitter account LMFAO merry christmas and happy holidays to all of u lovely cuties!!! sending u all kisses muah. chapter is based off john summit's "what a life"! such a good song :D

taglist: @4amirwin @wonbin-truther @hearts4hee @jungaji @sundamariis @urlovelily @n0hyuck @dudekiss3r @injunnie-lemon @luvvhaechan @douqhnxtss @tynlvr @haesluvr @hcluvie @pinknjm @nanaxwi @catpjimin @slayhaechan @awktwurtle @myfavoritedelusion @stqrgr7 @t-102 @jianreadsaus @haechanhues @gomdoleemyson @hyuckmoon @haechology @mystverse @hyuckies18 @sunflowerbebe07 @jae-n0 @onlyforyoukook @yizhrt @gwookie @zzzmrk @kukkurookkoo @nightcat101 @tinyelfperson @haefelt @haechsworld @tenjyucat @worldwidecutiemaya @sunghoonsgfreal @snoopyjimin @ypoom151999 @meowtella @honeynanamin @haechanmybaechan @nctrawberries @nosungluv

[snoopychris]

introducing... hockeyplayer!matt and figureskater!reader

warnings: unprotected sex (please do not do this.), p in v, blackmail if you squint, matt's competitive

in which... matt needs to blow off steam but you never let him

the first time matt laid eyes on you he was hooked. he wasn’t sure if it was your general presence or the short skirt that you had been wearing, but he was hooked. the first encounter he had with you was months ago, but somehow you’re still one of the only things that circles through his mind. he feels like he just keeps seeing you everywhere. if he goes to the grocery store you’re there. if he goes to the car wash he swears that it’s always your car thats in front of his. if he goes to get a cup of coffee, your name is plastered on somebody else’s cup. he can’t stand it. he hates just how much youre stuck in his head. he wishes so badly that he could just go to the ice rink and blow off some steam without you being there, but as you once told him during a heated argument, theres enough room on the ice for the both of you. 

matt takes a deep breath and focuses on the shot hes trying to make from halfway across the rink, only stopping to look up at you with a frustrated expression on his face. “what d’ya want now?” he spits, noticing your stare. you let out a small scoff before dangling a pair of keys in his face. “well it’s 11:30 and i was supposed to lock up after the last skaters left at 11. you gotta leave.” he lets out a groan at your words, hitting the puck towards the goal. it just barely misses, ricocheting off the pole. you giggle at the miss, stopping instantly when you notice matt’s expression. “s’not fucking funny. and mike said i could stay till midnight.” you shrug as you move to the side when he exits the rink, tilting your head. “it’s a little funny. goin to college on a hockey scholarship and you cant even make a goal… bet i could even beat you across the rink.” matt’s eyes widen at your proposition, noticing the keys still in your hand. his tongue prods his inner cheek as he speaks up. “if i win you give me the keys and i leave whenever i want.” you consider his proposition for a moment before grabbing your skates from the bag besides you, slipping them onto your feet carefully. upon beginning the race, you realized just how rigged it was against you. his legs were so much longer than yours and your skates were made for spinning in circles gracefully, not tackling people to the ground. the only time you had an upper hand was at the start when your skirt flew up and matt got a peek at the lacy pink panties that matched your leg warmers. you let out a gasp the second you lose, climbing out of the rink and setting the keys in matt’s palm. as you gather your stuff to leave, matt lets out a set of tsks. you bite your lips anxiously as you wait for him to speak, receiving a smirk in response.  “i wanna change my prize.” 

11:49 pm and you still hadn’t locked up the rink. matt had an extra ten minutes allowed to him by your manager, meaning that you had 10 more minutes bent over the metal bench while matt continuously pounded in and out of you. his hand gripped your chin from behind while covering your mouth to muffle any sounds you were making, your previously perfect makeup streaming down your face. matt leans down to speak right beside your ear, nipping your earlobe. “youre all talk princess… acting like youre so much better than me on the ice when all it takes is a little bit of dick to make you fall apart. better see you at my next game wearing my number… or i could always tell your boss that this is what you’re doing in the building when you shouldve locked up by now.” 

Taglist : @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @izzylovesmattatt @m11rxx @chris-hallelujah @mattsbrat

a/n: hey guys... how yall doin... i dont remember the last time i wrote any sort of smut. take what you can get with me for now. love you all kiss kiss! reply or message me if u wanna be on my taglist for this au or my taglist in general! kiss kiss! - gen

[callivich]

@dazzle02 was looking for fics from Ian’s POV. This got me rereading some Ian POV fics I love and then I went down a rabbit hole. I thought I might as well do a rec list. So here’s some of my favourites and some newly discovered gems- it’s a mix of AU and canon divergent/compliant. Enjoy! 💖 If I get some time, I’ll do a Mickey POV list too!

I hit the link limit with this first post so there’s a reblog with more, don’t miss that. I’d love to know everyone’s favourite Ian POV fics so feel free to reblog with your own recs!

Map of the World by westernredcedar

Ian Gallagher knows a lot of geography.

Intro to Quantum Dating by @spoonfulstar

another college au

Everything About You by @gallavichy

Retelling of Like Real People Do from the perspective of Ian. In hopes of saving for his future, Ian Gallagher works nights on kestrel, an iOS app specializing in paid sex services. The rules there are pretty simple: appeal to your clientbase, build fantasies, and maintain appropriate boundaries. This is the story of how Ian breaks every damn rule and falls in love with Mickey Milkovich.

Darkness comes before the Dawn by @creepkinginc @ian-galagher @transmurderbug

Frank's done it again and this time, his actions have consequences in the form of a curse. How to break it is a mystery, as is the quiet, raven haired stranger that shares the woods with Ian. If they want to survive, they have to learn how to make darkness and silence go hand in hand.

hysteria by serenfire

Ian throws the first punch.

oh, deceiver, is it worth it? by segs

ian thinks he'll want to remember this forever, even though he won't.

What Goes Up by ArtsyAfrodite

He’d sling Appletinis tonight for the big tips, and dance on the diamonds he saw in the floor. He glued a smile over the sadness that long settled in the freckles you could barely see now. But he was happy, he was.

Just Enough Time by osointricate

Ian thought he knew what was coming, but he had no idea. This is Ian's point of view on his bipolar disorder.

this is the essence of love and failure by misandrywitch

“You’re sick,” Mickey says. “Hospital,” Mickey says. And your body is numb and your heart is breaking and you run.

put my faith in this hole in the ground by @gardenerian

He stands at the plot for a while before he begins working. This is it. After weeks of internet searches and sketches in his notepad, it’s time to put it all into action. Ian closes his eyes against the afternoon sun, breathes in the smell of dirt and greenery. Thinks about that giver of dreams. Opens them, squeezes the trowel in his hand. He works. He works well. And then: there it is. A goal accomplished. A beginning.

a mountain at my gates by @gardenerian

Ian loves serving cold gin and champagne to the laughing flappers that visit his family's speakeasy. Even as the Gallaghers struggle to build an empire, he thinks the only thing missing is a lover to dance with. Desperate to get out from under his father's thumb, Mickey sets out to undermine the already thriving Milkovich empire. Tasked with taking the Gallagher operation out, Mickey knows to expect violence and danger. But he never could have expected Ian.

to the thawing wind by @gardenerian

Living and working in the icy chill of an endless winter, Ian and his family are assigned to work the farms to bolster food supply. They live quietly enough, following the rules, until Mickey and Mandy Milkovich (with all their secrets) are moved in across the road.

pulling a fiona by littlemoretouchme

"Pulling a Monica. What a fucking joke. His whole life, he’s been pulling a Fiona." [Small moments between Ian and Fiona over the years, based off Cameron Monaghan saying "Fiona and Ian, who were, in many ways, the most stable components of the family… they were the ones who were consistently employed and taking care of people… are now the least stable."]

The Shirt by AlyCalypso

Ian wears Mickey's shirt by accident the first time. But then he wears it again, and again.

Not Your Mother's Love Story by orphan_account

Alternate S7 ending. The phone dinged. Missed call. Ian waited to see if there was a voicemail. He didn't know if he was going to listen to it, if Mickey left a voicemail. Part of him thought he kind of owed it to Mickey. Part of him was sure that if he heard Mickey's voice one more time, if he remembered the way he sounded when he said Ian's name, he was going to fall right back into everything he was trying to escape. There weren't any more dings. No voicemail. Nothing. It should have made Ian feel better.

Selfless Acts of the Illegal Variety by @abundanceofnots

The last thing Ian Gallagher thought he'd be at 19 is married—and to a grumpy Ukrainian bouncer called Mickey who's barely said ten words to him since they first met, no less. But when a rare chance at love knocks on your door, you don't just send the cute guy in dire need of a green card back to his homophobic father in Kyiv, right?

Undead Agents of Chaos by @abundanceofnots

Ian is fourteen when he discovers a comic book series called Undead Agents of Chaos. It’s going to take years before he’ll know what it’s like to lose a heart. First, he has to find out how it feels to have it beat out hard against his ribcage as he stands on the corner of a street, having just produced the most embarrassing sound of his life. It all starts with an unlikely friend.

Part 1 & 5 of Scenes from a Marriage by @abundanceofnots

Hilarity, love and banter ensue as Ian and Mickey navigate their life together as husbands.

young and stupid (left wide open) by @sam-loves-seb

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Mickey barks with no bite. “Can you hear me?” Ian looks up and blinks slowly at Mickey. “Sorry—what?” “Jesus,” Mickey mutters, looking over Ian with a furrowed brow. “I said are you alright?” And, like, half of him wants to say yeah, I’m fine, just forget this ever happened and get your pants off, but the other half of him wants to say no, I’m a mess, can you just come and sit next to me for a while. He doesn’t end up saying either of those things; he doesn’t even come close. // 1x09: what happens after “I need to see you” and “I’ll meet you there in twenty.”

walk away, walk away by @sam-loves-seb

Mickey half-shrugs incredulously at him with glassy eyes, his mouth hanging slightly open. Ian just blinks back at him, thoroughly lost. Mickey’s jaw twitches. “Is this the end?” Ian shakes his head. “The end of what?” “Of us.” // post-canon: ian and mickey have their first big fight as a married couple.

if i could never give you peace by @sam-loves-seb

“You need to get over him,” Lip tells him. “I know,” Ian sighs. “It’s been two months.” “It’s been two years.” And that, more than anything, just makes the rumbling in Ian’s chest pound on his ribs even harder. Because, yeah—it’s been two years since they broke up, but somehow their parting at the border felt more like an ending than their breakup ever did. // post-7x11: ian feels unsettled ever since he left mickey at the mexico border.

hold tight to your umbrella by @sam-loves-seb

Because he is fine. Really, it’s nothing. It’s not that bad. He’s just tired, fatigued from the day and the racing thoughts in his head. It’s nothing he hasn’t felt on a normal day before. It’s nothing for Mickey to worry about. “You sure?” Mickey asks, wrapping his arms around Ian’s waist, hands trapped between Ian’s back and the couch. “Yeah,” Ian tells him, nodding a bit. “I think so.” He’s being honest when he says it, but that doesn’t necessarily make it true. // post-canon: ian isn’t feeling quite like himself these days.

i'd like to be my old self again (but i'm still trying to find it) by @sam-loves-seb

Mickey runs his hand over his mouth, staring at the closet and the arrangement of shirts and jackets that looks no more and no less organized than before. “You feelin’ okay?” Something prickles at the back of Ian’s neck. “I feel fine,” he answers, shaking it off. “Why?”“You don’t feel… off?” Ian scoffs. “Because I did the laundry and cleaned the apartment a little bit?” “No… yes?” Mickey winces.“Mickey. What the hell are you even saying?” // post-canon: ian is feeling better, until he’s not.

The Buzz Under His Skin by @palepinkgoat

Set in early S4. See end for mental illness warning/notes. This is definitely not what Ian meant to have happen. He had no idea what this would really be like, when he imagined it. But he never even really imagined it. It was like he snapped his fingers,and he's just here, and this guy is here, and now this is here. Happening. (or: Ian's manic thoughts tend to circle back to one blue-eyed boy.)

Before the Dawn by missmichellebelle

Mickey holds him tighter, and Ian wonders how he can feel like he’s breaking apart into a thousand pieces while being held together.

Rage Against the Dying of the Light by missmichellebelle

Ian still remembers his first visit to therapy, where he expected the chaise lounge for him to lay on and the constant sound of someone scribbling notes. What he’d gotten instead was a regular love seat, and when he’d tried to lay down on it, his therapist had given a startled little laugh and told him that it was, “Quite unnecessary, really.” She never took notes. She never even held a clipboard. She just clasped her hands in her lap and gave Ian her full attention.

superman (dumb fucking magnets) by ArtsyAfrodite

Yeah, Ian wants to be just like him. At least he’ll stick to something, point his arms towards anything.

gotta wait for you, honey by @biblionerd07

Ian's been counting down to his 30th birthday.

every time I think I've lost my way by @biblionerd07

Ian wakes up alone on a road in the woods, and he has to decide if he's going to stay or go.

fix me up by @biblionerd07

Mickey has a lot of scars. Ian has a lot of feelings about those scars.

when you get there you'll know by @biblionerd07

Ian gets out of prison 352 days before Mickey does. They do their best to make it through.

something so wretched about this by @onthepyre

five times ian thought about kissing mickey and one time he actually did

Wishbone by @fangirl-on-fire3

There’s something building, bubbles rolling across frothing water, heat and sound and thick steam curling like an impenetrable wall of humidity over the city. Each time Mickey comes into the store, gives him that predatory look, the rope of tension between them tightens, laden with the tantalizing possibility of more. For someone so stubborn, Mickey's about as flighty as a deer. The slightest threat of a kiss, even Ian looking at his lips for a second too long, always has him bolting.

take your shoes off in the back of my van by @fangirl-on-fire3

After, with the bleachers trickling a slow shower of dust above them, layers of sweat still clinging to their skin, Mickey says, “I missed you.”A storm of starlings break free in Ian’s chest, lurching his heart sideways. It’s beating so fast it might crash straight through his ribs in a violent, bloody mess. “You did?” “Yeah, man. Had to do all the fucking in prison.” Ian wilts.

Something So Pleasant About That Place by @haunted-phantom-student

Five time Ian thinks Mickey is there, and one time he actually is.

Always Darkest Before the Dawn by @haunted-phantom-student

Every time Ian feels himself going low, there’s a moment, a very distinct moment, a moment that confirms that no, he isn’t just tired after a long few days.

I Didn't Know It at Fifteen by @haunted-phantom-student

For a long time, Ian would have said that the thing with Kash started on the tenth of May. He always remembered the exact date because it was the day after his fifteenth birthday, the day he’d come into work with a new mix CD, courtesy of Lip, and a busted nose, courtesy of his father.

Love That's Laid Beside Me by @we-couch

ian's pov of the morning/day after

Glow by @we-couch

Character study of Ian over the years. (s1-7)

Apartment 4A by @we-couch

When the chaos of the Gallagher home gets to be too much, Ian decides to move out. He answers a roommate ad, and gets more than he bargained for.

keeper of the prize by @squidyyy23

Ian and Mickey, growing and learning as they become domino champions, hustle their way through their prison sentences.

Ristretto by @howlinchickhowl

Ian works the late shift at the Tamp and Grind. It's not what he always planned to be doing at 22, but it's a steady paycheck and he doesn't hate it. When he gains a new colleague with a wicked sense of humor and a sinfully hot boyfriend, he starts to think maybe he should be trying to do more with his life than perfecting his latte art.

Love, like a river by @howlinchickhowl

And it’s as Ian’s turning properly to look at him so that Mickey can fully appreciate the eye-roll that Ian feels is the necessary response to his husband being his own special brand of idiot that Mickey’s eyes start to bug in panic and his free hand slaps quickly over his mouth. He’s gonna boot again. Mickey doesn't drink enough water on hot days and Ian thinks that's dumb, but he loves him anyway.

elevator music by @iansfreckles

He’s late, he’s covered in coffee, and he’s trapped in an elevator with the biggest asshole he’s ever met in his life. (Fifteen minutes ago, Ian Gallagher slept through his alarm — and things have only gotten worse since then. OR: Ian moves out on his own, makes an impression on his new neighbor, and learns a thing or two about forgiveness.

details in the fabric by @iansfreckles

Pulling that EMT jacket on for the first time feels a little bit like donning a super suit. Like gearing up to take on the world. (OR Ian's life, as told through clothes)

we'll be a fine line (we'll be alright) by @iansfreckles

“Tried to get a job today. Didn’t work out.” Ian, feeling stiff as a board as he settled beside Mickey on their bed, let out a tight breath. “I know,” he replied after a moment, trying to be patient. He shifted to lay on his back, pointedly not looking to the man beside him, instead staring up at the dark ceiling. “I was there, remember? With the other minimum-wage earning, rotten-pig-smelling bozos.” Alright, so maybe he was hitting petty a little more than patient, tonight. Sue him. (Or an alternate ending to 11x02, where Ian and Mickey actually resolve some tensions)

a sort of fairytale by redkay

By the time Ian is tossed out of the army and makes his reluctant way home, Mickey is long gone.

Sweetpea by @whatthebodygraspsnot

Sweetpea, the stray that eats his neighbors flowers, is a little asshole of a cat. But Ian still hopes to win her over with treats from his lunch and rambling conversation as he tends to his failing garden. Just as he thinks he's starting to get her to like him, everything flips on its head. You see, Sweetpea is not a normal cat. And Sweetpea is not a she.

Customer Satisfaction by @whatthebodygraspsnot

For someone who works at a sex shop, Ian’s love life is tragically dead. That is, until a hot, flirty, tatted up customer decides to enroll in their product review program for the cash. Ian gathers the toys and takes him to the back room for their first session. He’s always kept things very professional at this job - no problems discussing sex-related things at all. But how the hell is he supposed to keep his cool behind the camera and ask corporate’s review questions when he’s got the hottest guy on the planet playing with himself just a few feet away?

How To Bag A Baddie by @whatthebodygraspsnot

Getting a text from a stranger threatening to bash his kneecaps in isn’t something Ian planned for tonight. But he’s intrigued. Call it morbid curiosity, fed by both ends as their conversation continues well past “you’ve got the wrong number”. The more he uncovers about this mystery guy, the more he likes, and the more he wants. Especially when he learns he's not the only one gunning for him. Ian is about to have a very interesting night.

@hornygaythug by @whatthebodygraspsnot

Ian's roommate is pretty. Ian's roommate is kind of an asshole. Ian's roommate posts pictures of himself online and Ian swears to god he's got it under control.

ligature by @catgrassplantdad

It was only a matter of time before they finally hit this moment, before they finally felt like they had enough experience to try this.

sink in by @catgrassplantdad

The pursuits of a married couple just trying to take a damn bath. Why is this so hard to accomplish?

Icarus Is Online by @mishervellous

AnonMate is all everyone is talking about. Ian wants in on it.

I Am the Walls of My Home by @mishervellous

Ian’s journey towards healing and self-acceptance.

Five Times Mickey Wears Ian's Clothes and One Time Ian Wears Mickey's by @teatimeallovertown

A brief look at the journey of Mickey and Ian through the clothes they share

Pink + White by @flamingbluepanda

Ian and Mickey reunite, separate, and reunite again.  (Or, The Early Season 10 Prison Arc we Deserved(TM) )

how to love by proval

Mickey's body's been a bit quieter for a while now, no longer wracked through with those heaving sobs. But Ian gets the feeling if he leaves they'll start up again. Ian POV gap filler for 11x09. Starts after the end of 11x08.

Stages by @dreamylyfe-x

It’s nice for married couples to share interests and experiences. But they didn’t really need their dads to die one after the other like this.

Risk by @dreamylyfe-x

Ian and Mickey figuring out marriage, and each other, in the middle of a global crisis. Canon compliant to the end of season 10.

'Til the Day My Life is Through by @ianrightsonly

Ian is devastated by the thought of Mickey not remembering their first wedding anniversary. He should know better than to ever doubt his husband.

Baby, That's What Makes Us... by @ianrightsonly Ian says no more sex until Mickey gets a job. Mickey says no more sex until Ian gets over himself. Easier said than done, when you’re married and sharing the same bed.

Every Time We Say Goodbye by @ianrightsonly

Ian remembers every kiss he’s ever shared with Mickey. The quick pecks on the cheek; the frantic, biting and bruising makeouts; the slow, languid movements of their mouths against one another. He remembers them all, and he thinks of them often. This kiss though, it’s one of his favorites.

Claim by @gallavictorious

Mickey wants back into Ian's life. Ian wonders if, and how, to let him. Or, the one where the boys conduct their meaningful conversations not by talking but by having sex.

Foreign Country by @gallavictorious

Never returning had not been a conscious choice. Neither was going back. Ian, Kash and Grab, and the memories of good times and bad - and most of all of Mickey.

All You Wanna Do series by @usercelestial

explorations of ians sexual trauma

I Got This by @usercelestial

ian learns to accept help or three times ian deals with it on his own and one time he doesn't have to

The waves come forward, we are traveling together by sadwhales

Ian remembers the first time Mickey ever smiled at him. or, On the night of their wedding, Ian and Mickey talk a little bit about the past, and surprisingly, their feelings.

life of the party by framboise

In which Ian and Mickey are domestic bitches, and deal with some of Ian's memories of those lost months working in the clubs.

These Undomesticated Wilds by @arrowflier

When Ian Gallagher left Chicago behind him to traipse aimlessly through the wilderness, he was hoping to find himself--the self that he had lost when his bipolar diagnosis had his family treating him with kid gloves and his boyfriend annoyed with his melancholic acceptance of his new life. He wasn't looking for a rescue. But when he's injured on a hike through the woods in southern Indiana, a rescue is what he gets. And if he's lucky, he might find a little more than he was looking for.

Bold Will Hold by @smokey-mickey

Ian tries to play it cool as he’s greeted with bright blue eyes standing out against pale skin. Ian can see the edges of tattoos poking out of his jacket at his neck and wrists, and a simple silver nose ring in his right nostril. Awkward yet adorable Tattoo AU.

body and mind by @unbridgeabledistances

He immediately pushes the thought down. He doesn’t fucking need that anymore to keep his head above water; he’s stable, he’s loved, he’s fed. He’s growing organic tomatoes, and definitely developing a farmer’s tan from his days hunched over their way-too-tiny community garden plot, tenderly watering and pruning the vines and brambles. He's desired. So it doesn’t make fucking sense that the hunger, the clawing in his stomach for an absence, doesn’t really stop. or, ian’s body image through the years (based on the tumblr prompt: ian struggling with eating once they move to the west side)

kings of the southside by @unbridgeabledistances

The storefronts on the block were different now— fragile minimalist displays and organic coffee shops uprooting the aged wooden bar signs with peeling paint and bullet holes— but against all odds, and with everyone else moving on, he and Mickey had decided to stay. (or, a canon divergent fic in which ian and mickey stay on the southside and take over the alibi)

we’re the center of our universe by @unbridgeabledistances

It wasn’t like Ian wanted to bring up the conversation again, about monogamy and boundaries and fuck-knows-what-else; but these past few weeks had been hard, like something cavernous was cracking and splintering between them. Their banter had slowly turned less and less humorous, and more pointed and jagged, about who was the breadwinner and who was the “man”; and even though they’d patched it up and built small bridges between them, and had hung off of each other’s bodies at Lip’s apartment the night Ian had brought up the monogamy conversation for the first time, Ian couldn’t help but feel the weight of the things unsaid wriggling and rustling inside him, like a germinating seed about to bloom. or, a communicative little one-shot of ian and mickey discussing their boundaries and processing traumas

The Second-Time Commitment by ListenListen223

Ian levels out after a manic episode, 74 hours into an involuntary hospitalization. Mickey won't bust him out, and insists that he got him to the best hospital in Chicago, so Ian better get better. Surrounded by people who think that the stuff they've been through is maybe a little bit serious, Ian and Mickey have to decide what's worth talking about, and what to leave on the South side. At least for the next 70 hours.

Because…You’re My Husband by @wildxwired

“Monica would have loved today.”

Last of a Dying Breed by @wildxwired

After the death of his sociopathic PO, Ian’s sent to work at XK9, the dog rescue that gives second chances to the unwanted pets and ex-cons of the southside — and it just so happens to be run by the most unlikely success story of them all.

There Are Places You Belong by @livinginsunnyhell

He knew he had his siblings, but sometimes they were so caught up in their own stuff, they couldn’t be there in the way he needed. Mickey was. Mickey always had been. He was his home after all. Ian and Mickey adjust to the West Side and grow closer in their second year of marriage.

your voice is the sound of sirens (to a house on fire) by hypernomad

Ian learns how to read; he never really learns how to stop. When he’s six, he reads Alice in Wonderland and wonders, vaguely, if Lewis Carroll was actually predicting the life of a certain freckled redhead in Chicago with an alcoholic father and an erratic mother. It certainly seems that way at times. His life is a psychedelic mess of being left at the roadside with his brother and sisters, being “given” to random women in the street by his stoned mother, and blinking ash out of his eyes after his father drunkenly throws an ashtray at him for looking like his uncle. The thought is fleeting and he shakes it away as quickly as it comes.

saut dans le vide, my lover by armsoftheocean

When Ian sees Mickey’s smiling response, he can’t help but smile wider with his eyes lighting up and he knows he looks fucking ridiculous; beaming as if Mickey had handed him the key to the universe, but his heart is thrumming with happiness and fuck, he’s so far gone that he doesn’t even give a shit. 

[stargirlygirl]

"You're my girl, aren’t you? Forever mine.”

Touya Todoroki x fem!reader

Scream!AU

🚨Warnings & tags: virgin sex, vaginal sex, anal sex, knife play / marking, mild gore, swearing, threesome - MMF (Touya/Shigaraki/You), dubcon, blood kink, choking, dacryphilia, voyeurism, swearing, humiliation, hurt comfort

Word count: 17k

Summary: Everything was fine until one Halloween, people who have annoyed you start dying. Are you cursed? Or is someone else responsible for their deaths? (Hint: it’s someone else. Someone you know very well.)

Inspired by 'All For You' by @bkgsdoll

A/n: Touya's scars = tattoos

-----------₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊------------

You and the girls were over at Mina’s tonight for girls night!! You were laying on Mina’s plush pink bed, phone in hand, scrolling through Halloween costume ideas on Pinterest. Ochaco was sitting up next to you, her back against the baby pink studded headboard. Himiko lay in her lap. Mina was sprawled out in a pink bean bag next to her large bed. You were all focusing on the task at hand, deciding on your outfits for Mina’s annual Halloween party. Even though it was a couple of months away, such a decision was a priority. Every so often, you heard Ochaco and Himiko whispering to one another about some good costume ideas.

You loved moments like these, when you were all gathered over at Mina’s. You loved how feminine her room was. Even though it was cluttered, it had this girly, warm, bubbly vibe. Just like her. You were so grateful that you could all be friends. It was a bit difficult at first as you, Mina, and Ochaco were pretty tight knit. A fourth member of your posse didn’t seem to be on the table. That was until you had met Touya. It wasn’t easy, telling your friends that you had made friends with one of those kids at college.

Yes, sometimes we all get a little crazy. We do things that should be kept behind closed doors, that aren’t the best for us or that hurt others cough crime cough drugs cough drinking cough fucking around. But, there was so much more to Touya and his friends than that. Honestly, they weren’t even that different from your friends. It’s just that they were seen that way. I mean, can you blame your friends for thinking you were getting involved with a bunch of drug addicts from Touya’s bajillion tattoos and his friends’ rather eccentric personalities?

It took a while but your friends gradually began to accept that Touya and his gang were a part of your life now. You had introduced Himiko to your closest friends a few months ago and since then, you have all been getting on really well.

All is quiet for the moment until Mina perks up. She exclaims, “LADIES! I’VE GOT IT. The perfect hottest costume idea for this year!!” You all sit up a little, rousing from your doom scroll daze at her words. You push yourself up, hand disappearing between the fluffy blanket you had been lying on. You feel the shift in weight as Himiko does the same.

“What is it?” Ochaco asks, her short brows furrowing in curiosity.

By this time, Mina had already gotten up from her bean bag and climbed onto the bed. She stands up at the very end, hands on hips. She raises her phone, showing you all her magnificent idea.

“We’ll go as the Sailor Moon Guardians!!” On screen showed a picture of the skintiest Halloween costumes you think you’ve seen yet. Those skirts didn’t look like they would cover anything. Ochaco clapped her hands together, squealing in delight while Himiko giggled and smiled. You were the only one who didn’t seem very enthusiastic about the idea.

“Um, don’t you think that’s a little revealing?”

Mina groaned, “Ughhhh [y/n], you’re such a buzzkill.” She leaned down and pulled on your arm, to which you responded by giggling and pushing her off gently. She stood up straight again and jumped down from the bed so she stood next to you now.

“What girl doesn’t want to look super slutty on Halloween?” She asked you whilst crossing her arms under her full chest.

You chucked superficially, “Uh, this girl here, Mina.” She rolled her eyes at you, looking at the girls behind you.

An idea ignites, aflame in her eyes. She counters, “Okay, fine then. You can go as Cady’s Frankenstein look and we’ll go as the rest of the Plastics Halloween costumes.”

“NO!” Your eyes were wide, hands reaching out to her but failing to grasp anything. “Not that,” you continued, your voice filled with panic. You looked away from her, seeing the smirk stretching across her face.

Himiko tries next to convince you. She was behind you, her small hands on your shoulders, chest pressing into your upper back, her lips at your ear speaking softly and teasingly into it, “Come on [y/n]-chan. Don’t you wanna look good for Touya-kun?” You turned your head back to look at her, your faces inches apart now. Sensing you were fighting a losing battle, you looked down.

Ochaco shifted closer to you as well, chiming in, “It’s not that bad, [y/n].” Mina looked at you, smirk still plastered across her face.

“Don’t be such a prude, [y/n]. As Himiko said, ain’t nothing Touya hasn’t seen before.”

That hit a nerve for some reason. You stood up, Himiko falling forward from your sudden movement. You crossed your arms over your chest and turned to look at your friends.

“That’s not what she said! And it’s not about Touya! It’s about my image. Why can’t I dress a little more modestly? I don’t want people to see me in that. Can you imagine if some creep saw me in that? Like, like Denki?” The girls burst out laughing. They’ve known of your little admirer for some time now and how much he annoys you. How some days he won’t stop following you around on campus or insist on having lunch with you and your friends.

The girls composed themselves, Ochaco coming around first. She shrugs. Still giggling a little, she says, “Okay okay, we’ll put a pin in it for now.”

For the rest of the night, you talk about lots of things as Scream plays in the background. There are times when you all scream and then laugh and then aren’t even paying attention to the film anymore. Mina tells you all that she’s been worried about Kirishima lately as he’s been hanging out more with Bakugou, sometimes not replying to her messages until the next day. You all reassure her that that’s normal, especially when Kirishima was joined at her hip for the first several months of them dating.

It’s getting late now, around 1am when the movie finishes and Himiko goes home. She gives you all a kiss on the cheek before she leaves. You watch from the window as she gets in the car with Jin and he drives away.

Mina excuses herself with “Bitches I need the bathroom.” So now, it’s just you and Ochaco. She lets out a sigh of relief as Jin’s car disappears in the thick of the trees.

She says suddenly, “Oh my gosh, I was waiting for her to go home the whole time!” Your brows knit together in confusion. What did she mean by that? The brown-haired girl looks at you giggling.

“What? Oh come on, [y/n]. You don’t seriously think I like her, right? I mean, she’s such a little freak.” You’re frozen for a moment, unable to respond.

Composing yourself, you begin, “Um, Ochaco. That’s such a me—” You’re interrupted by Mina slamming the door open, announcing her presence.

You make a mental note to talk to Ochaco about that later, and even Mina to see if she feels the same. You had thought that everything was going well between you all. Had that not been the case? Had that been only in your eyes? Or, what you had perceived as it was what you wanted?

You gave yourself a little shake, coming back to reality and seeing Ochaco and Mina looking at you. Mina began,“Are you o—”

“Sorry, I think a demon possessed me for a minute there,” you laugh and the other two join in, not bothering to inquire any further into your space out.

You ended up staying until 3am, eventually working up the courage to excuse yourself to the bathroom because 1) you really needed to pee and 2) wanted to text Touya to pick you up. He obliged and now you were in his car together. He was driving you home as you debriefed about girls night, including what Ochaco had said to you and how that made you feel. How bad you felt for Himiko, knowing how much she liked Ochaco and how those feelings weren’t close to being reciprocated.

“Didn’t realise bubblegum bitch was such ahhhhhh…” “I know right?” You looked up at Touya, smiling to yourself seeing him in the pale moonlight. His tattooed hand was on your knee, thumb rubbing back and forth as you continued talking about the events of tonight. Touya listens to your yapping patiently, cutting in at some points to laugh at you or make fun of you, especially for your desire to preserve your ‘modesty’ for Halloween.

He drops you home, walking you up to your front door. He covers your head with his arm raised, jacket protecting you from the light drizzle of rain. He gives you a warm cuddle and forehead kiss before stepping back and telling you to get inside already. Touya watches you enter your house and turn the lights on before leaving.

…⊹₊⟡⋆…

The next morning, you wake up to a phone call from your best friend, Mina. You groan, groggily picking up the phone and answering the phone call. The first thing you hear is Mina scream.

You pull the phone away from your ear as she yells into the microphone, “[Y/N]!! [Y/N]! IT’S OCHACO. SHE’S… she’s dead.” You rub your face with your palm, yawning.

“Alright, Mina. Give it up. I’m not fal—”

“NO! [Y/N].” You can hear the shake in her voice, the tears staining her cheeks and muddying her voice as she continues, “SHE’S DEAD!!” You sit upright in bed, telling her that you’ll be over right away.

You scamper out of bed, running to the bathroom to brush your teeth before hopping in the car and driving to Mina’s. When you get there, the cops are already on the scene. As is Kirishima. You spot him in front of the house, among the police. He’s got his back to you. Beneath his muscular arms you can see pink hair poking out. You rush over to them, calling out to Mina. She looks up upon hearing her name and comes over to you, falling into your arms. You hold her tight, catching the bloody sight of Ochaco at the side of the house.

You see, Mina lives in an isolated area near a lake. Her house is surrounded by dense trees. The only way to her house is along a dirt path.

You can see how the ground is still wet from the pitter patter of rain in the early hours of the morning. Blood soaks the dirt near Mina’s bedroom window, painting a trail to Ochaco’s limp, bloodied body dangling from a tree. It’s too far off for you to make out the specifics. But one thing is for sure, she’s not your friend anymore. She is now no more than an empty, mutilated shell left in this world.

A sob chokes in your throat as you avert your eyes, looking at your usually bubbly friend crying out her heart in your arms. Her boyfriend hovers close to her. The cops watch your interaction before interrupting you after a few minutes, asking you if you know the victim. You, of course, tell them that you do and they lead you away to ask you a few questions. And then a few more questions which spirals into a full-blown investigation. You leave out any mention of what Ochaco had said about Himiko last night and how you told Touya. You don’t know why — I mean, that’s pretty valuable information, right? But, there’s a feeling, a voice in you telling you not to say it.

After the cops are satisfied with your answers, and after you’ve provided them with Himiko’s contact details, they give you some space. You immediately call Touya, telling him what’s happened and how you need him here urgently. After ending the phone call, you walk back over to Kirishima and Mina, discussing what had happened. You all watch as Ochaco’s body is cut down from the tree and covered with white.

Mina told you that she hadn’t heard anything last night, that she had been sleeping peacefully until waking up this morning. Confused as to where Ochaco went, she looked out of her window and saw the brown-haired girl’s body. She had then called the cops, Kiri, and you.

You’re sniffling, unable to hold everything back any longer. As you begin to break down, you hear Touya calling your name. You whisper his in relief, running up to him and throwing yourself into his arms. He feels warm, hot, as he always does. His embrace makes you melt, your tears and sorrows pouring out into the white long sleeve he’s got on. The cops take notice of Touya’s arrival but don’t say anything; you are in literal shambles in your boyfriend’s arms so it’s probably not the best time to call him over for questioning.

You had been angry with how Ochaco had… had almost betrayed? Backstabbed? Lied to? Himiko. But now, all of that is gone. You mourned for the loss of an incredibly bright and kind girl, even though she had her downfalls. We all did, right?

Touya held you strong. He never faltered. He held you and ran his pale fingers through your [h/c] locks, rubbing circles on your back to help you calm down. And it worked. After ten or so minutes, you were back to sniffling.

You look up into his striking ocean eyes, pulling back from his embrace. Your voice is thick with grief as you say, “Touya. Touya, I—” You couldn’t continue anymore, the pain too great.

“I know.” He gave you a gentle smile before drawing you back into his arms.

Most of the officers left soon after, a few stragglers assessing the crime scene marked with yellow tape. You and Mina went your separate ways and Touya drove you back to his place so he could take care of you during this emotional time. You couldn’t have asked for a better boyfriend.

…⊹₊⟡⋆…

It’s been a couple weeks since Ochaco’s murder. The police had informed you that she had been stabbed 13 times, no sign of struggle. It would have been in her last moments that she was hung from the tree. Whoever the killer was was intelligent, as basically all of the evidence had been washed away with the rain of that night. The investigators concluded that Ochaco must of known her killer and followed them out of Mina’s bedroom, through her window, before she was stabbed to death.

The investigators also informed you that they had spoken to Himiko and the information she provided was very similar to yours.

It was too much for you to bear. You cast the thought of it all to the back of your mind. I mean, why would anyone kill Ochaco? What kind of motive could they have had? It all seemed so hazy to you.

You stayed at Touya’s place for the first week after it happened. You couldn’t handle sleeping alone in the darkness, so Touya would wrap you up in his soothing, lean arms and sleep with you. He would leave the window curtains open, the moonlight just bright enough so you didn’t feel scared and dim enough so you could sleep properly. But, it couldn’t stop the nightmares. Ever since that day, you’ve been waking up in the middle of the night screaming and crying. When you were with Touya, he would wake up with you and make sure that you were okay.

“God, [y/n], you freaked me the fuck out,” he groaned.

You sniffled, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Touya.” You were crying into your hands. Touya pulled you into his chest, rubbing your back with his palms. He would just hold you until you calmed down, eventually pulling back and cupping your cheeks with his warm hands.

“You wanna take a shower? Tell me about it?” You nodded, following his lead as he guided you to the bathroom, leaving you alone to shower and preparing some hot tea for you when you were finished.

You came out of the bathroom, wearing one of Touya’s shirts that was clearly too big for you. You curled up on his bed next to him and he handed you a cup of steaming tea.

“You right?” You shook your head. Your lips formed an ‘o’ shape and blew away the steam. You told him how you dreamt of you being Ochaco on the last night of her life, in her last moments. How your killer was a black figure. Unknown yet familiar; you carelessly allowed it to lure you to your death.

After you finished your tea, Touya would set your cups on the night stand and pull you back under the covers, cuddling up with you and reassuring you that that would never happen with him here, right beside you. And then, he wasn’t beside you anymore.

In your time staying at Touya’s, you had been close to Himiko. You two mourned together when Touya had late night classes as they lived together with the rest of the gang. You could see how much Ochaco had meant to Himiko in the darkness under the blonde’s eyes. How she seemed almost numb, angry when she wasn’t crying. She had even convinced Jin to let her have one of his cigarettes. However, upon her first inhale, she had bent over in a coughing fit, whining about how foul it was and gave it back to him.

You were glad that when you weren’t with her, Jin was.

After returning home, you found that the nights alone were the hardest. You had contemplated calling Touya on more than one occasion, but you had already kept him up for a week. How could you keep him up for another one? Or longer?

Once it hit a month afterwards, you were doing a lot better. You were smiling more, laughing and making jokes again. Your friends started teasing you, saying “She’s back. [Y/n]’s back.” But, they couldn’t say the same for Mina. She had been quite closed off ever since the incident. She would only talk with you, Himiko, and Kirishima. When you did talk, she would tell you that she too had been having nightmares, and how tortured she felt over the whole ordeal. How if she had only woken up during the night, maybe things would have been different. Maybe Ochaco wouldn’t be dead.

Today, you were doing a group project as part of your final assessment for the unit. The task was to create a presentation on a research question of your choosing. Each member had a different role and all of you had to speak during the class presentation, which was set to happen at the end of next week.

In your group was Tenya, Asui, and unfortunately, Monoma. The blond wouldn’t shut up. For the past 20 minutes, he’s been talking about the research information he’s gathered (which was little to none) in the most grandiose of ways. You heard from your peers that this man was an absolute nightmare to work with, and they were right. Tenya interjects during one of Monoma’s short pauses.

“Monoma-kun, do you think we could move on—”

“Ah-ah.” Monoma waves his finger from side to side in Tenya’s face. “I’m not finished yet.” With a satisfied grin from the group’s submission, he continues on. The whole lesson turns into the most uninteresting yap session. It has you resting your cheek on your palm, stealing glances with Tenya and Asui.

As soon as the bell rings, you’re out of there. You’ve got two hours before your next lecture, so you decide to grab some lunch and go to the library. You’re walking over to your favourite café on campus when you spot a certain blond and black haired boy. You’re already turning around, fully prepared to hit up one of the other cafés when you hear him call out to you.

“[Y/n]! Hey!” You turn back around, seeing the boy jog over to you. You’re tempted to make a run for it, but you know that’s not the nice thing to do.

You know that Denki doesn’t mean any harm. He likes you, you can tell, everyone can tell. He’s just a young guy who is still figuring things out. You empathise with him and he can be such a cutie sometimes. BUT, what you object to is the fact that you have a boyfriend and have had the same one for almost a year now, which Denki knows, and yet, he still follows you around like a lost puppy and sometimes talks like he has a chance with you. You’ve tried to put him down nicely in the past, which earned quite the disapproving girl talk with Mina and… and Ochaco.

You push back the thought of her, and, therefore, the thought(s) of her death. You force a smile onto your face, focusing on the boy coming up to you. He’s close now and he smiles at you widely.

“Hey, [y/n]. Where have you been? I feel like I haven’t seen you in agessss.”

You laugh superficially, replying in monotone, “Denki, you saw me yesterday.” Denki shifts to rub the back of his neck with his hand, a sheepish look on his face now.

“Did I?”

“Yes, Denki. You did.” You silently hope that you’re not coming off as rude but also, you silently hope that you are so he can take the hint and leave you alone. You’re not in the mood to deal with him after dealing with another particularly trying blond for the past hour.

Unfortunately, Denki doesn’t take notice of your annoyance. “Oh. Well, what’re you doing around here, [y/n]? Hey, while you’re here, why don’t we grab some lunch together? Do you see that café over there? They have really good—”

“Denki,” you cut him off. You’re really not in the mood to deal with him right now.

You’re about to tell Denki to get lost nicely when a familiar arm drapes around your shoulders. You look up, and who do you see?

A) Touya

B) Your pookie bear

C) A tattooed hottie

D) A man with family issues

E) All of the above

Ding ding ding, it’s E. You stare up at him with a grateful look in your eyes. He’s looking down at Denki. His sharp blue eyes pierced through the nerd.

“Hey, you’re Denki, right? My girlfriend has told me so much about you.” Touya extends his hand towards Denki, but the blond just stands there, eyes shifting from you to Touya and back.

“U-um, yea, haha, yea ugh, it’s nice to meet you too.” Denki’s hand trembles like his voice. He takes Touya’s hand and they shake curtly.

Touya continues, “I hope you don’t mind but, my girlfriend and I are gonna get some lunch and,” he looking down at you, smirk on his face, “go to the library. Please excuse us.”

Touya leads you away, Denki too dumbfounded to respond. You swear he short-circuits as you walk away, probably shaking his hand from Touya’s next level grip strength.

You’re silent too. Or have you been silenced? You have definitely been silenced. You can feel Touya’s muscles flex around you. He looks down at you again. “What?” You notice that he’s guiding you to the café you were originally going to go to.

“N-nothing,” you stutter. “I just… I just didn’t think you could be so cool.”

Touya chuckles, “What do you mean? I am cool. I’m the fucking coolest.” You giggle, leaning your head on his chest.

Touya buys you two lunch and you sit down by the window at the back of the shop to enjoy it. He notices that lingering furrow between your [b/c] brows and asks you about what’s bothering you. You love (and hate) how observant he is. You cough it up, not bothering to keep to yourself how annoying Monoma has been. This is only the second lesson you’ve been working in a group with him and he’s actually driving you insane.

Touya listens to you quietly before reminding you to eat and telling you how strong you are. After you’re both finished, he drops you off at the library. He’s already half an hour late to his lecture but he shrugs it off, saying that he’s happy to spend a bit more time with his girl, especially when she’s so stressed. He gives you a quick kiss before he leaves.

In a way, you’re grateful that he has class. Your ‘study’ sessions usually turn into something else… if you know what I mean wink.

You head inside the library, shivering at how cold it is inside. You spot Mina and Kirishima in the corner of the library, their table big enough for four. You approach slowly, not too sure if it would be appropriate to join them. But, your hesitancy fades away as Mina notices you coming over and waves at you in an enthusiastic gesture, reminiscent of her former bubbly glow. The gesture makes you smile and you come over to their table a little faster. Kirishima makes some space for you and you sit down next to him, saying ‘Hi’ to them both.

You begin getting out your laptop and other supplies. As you do so, you say, “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.” Mina frowns.

“No, you weren’t at all. Actually, you’re late.” You blink, forehead creasing in confusion.

You set your My Melody pencil case down on the table and ask in a high-pitched tone, “I am?”

Mina watches you under a scrutinising eye. You haven’t seen her this interested in anything ever since the incident. “Didn’t your class finish at 1pm? It’s two now.” You just stare at her for a few seconds before laughing awkwardly.

“Um, yea. I was with Touya.”

“Oh,” is all she says as she leans back. She had unconsciously been leaning forward towards you, anxious for your answer.

Was Mina… back? In that, she hasn’t been this nosy in weeks? And that “Oh”? “What do you mean by that?” You ask, looking at her. She’s hiding her face now behind her laptop, straightening it at a right angle. Your eyes narrow at her.

“Mina.” She shrugs, pulling her laptop closed.

“What?”

“What’s gotten into you? Is everything okay?” You ask, your voice laced with concern. Mina looks away from you to Kirishima. You can tell something was exchanged in their look. Something that puts you on edge. You look between them.

“What’s going on?”

Kirishima says, “It’s nothing, [y/n]. Mina and I were just talking about you two before you came in, that’s all.” ‘You two’? As in, you and Touya?

“Kiri, what do you mean? Touya and I?” Kirishima opens his mouth to answer but Mina beats him to it.

“Isn’t he a bit too old for you, [y/n]? Not to mention all of the tattoos and the kinda people he hangs out with.” You further furrow your brows, hands subconsciously clenching into fists as you stare at her. How dare she?

Touya has been nothing if not the best partner. How could she say that? Especially since Ochaco’s death. He’s been there for you when even Mina wasn’t. “He’s in second year, so what?”

Kirishima asks, genuine concern in his eyes, “Isn’t he like 24 though?” You look at the red-head next to you, giving him a rather angry look.

“23 actually.” He shrugs.

“Not like it makes much of a difference.”

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, the blood rushing. Your face is heating up too.

“What’s your point?” You say between gritted teeth to the couple.

“Look [y/n],” Kirishima raises his hands in surrender, “We’re just worried about you, that’s all. It’s not smart to date older guys at your age.”

The tension is thick in the air. You’re all quiet. You open your laptop, looking at the screen as it lights up, anxiously awaiting your password.

You sigh, “Look guys, I really appreciate your concern. But, if you could just get to know Touya, you would see that you’re wrong about him.”

“I don’t think s—” The sounds of screaming cut Mina off. You and everyone else in the library look out the windows, seeing people form groups. Some lone wolves join a large group all huddled near the entrance to the library. One student is distraught, tears running down their face. You recognise that orange hair in a high ponytail. Kendo.

You stand up, Mina standing up with you and linking her arm in yours. You two give each other a look. The look that you’re in this together, no matter what happens. You leave Kirishima sitting at the table in confusion as you head out of the library. You walk over to where Kendo is, crying into a familiar silver-haired man. Kirishima’s teammate (and ultimate rival) in baseball.

“Tetsutetsu, Kendo, what happened?” Mina asks the pair. Kendo looks up. Seeing you two through blurry teal eyes, she begins to cry harder. You want to reach out to comfort her but, you know that now isn’t the time.

Tetsutetsu starts to answer for her, “Monoma’s been—”

“Killed!” Kendo cries out. With tears streaming down her cheeks and neck, she chokes out the words, “He’s been killed!”

You and Mina exchange a glance before looking back to the two of them.

You ask Tetsutetsu, “Is that true?” He nods.

“But how?” Mina questions. At this, Kendo breaks out into even harder sobs. A tanned hand comes to Mina’s shoulder, Kirishima standing behind her.

“I think we’re making it worse,” you say quietly to Mina and her boyfriend. Tetsutetsu hears you though (of course) and nods.

“Kendo was one of the students that found him. If you could,” he jerks his head to the side, signalling for you all to leave. You all apologise and give your condolences to Kendo.

You float from group to group, trying to get as much information as you can out of them. Everyone has something different to say. Some say that it was a suicide. Others say that it was definitely a murder. Apparently, he died from a head wound in the boys’ locker room. No one knows the specifics. And no one gets time to find out as the authorities arrive. Kirishima offers to take you both home to which you agree to.

As he reaches your place, your phone dings: two new messages from ‘mafia boss’. You click on the message from your boyfriend. It reads:

mafia boss: you heard about that fuck head?

mafia boss: do you need a ride home?

you: no thanks. kiri’s taking mina and i home. you okay?

You look up, realising that you’ve been texting while Kirishima has been waiting for you to get out. You apologise and grab your things, opening the car door and wishing the two of them the best. There’s a weight on your chest but you let it fester until you’re inside your bedroom. You throw your heavy backpack on your plush chair and put your phone on ‘Do not Disturb’. You then sit down on your bed, elbows on your knees, face in your hands, and you cry.

Why were you crying over someone who had irritated you? Wasted your time?

Monoma may have been annoying, narcissistic, and overly grandiose. BUT, he didn’t deserve to die for any of those things. You couldn’t help but feel like somehow, this was all of your fault. Maybe you were getting too much in your own head, getting a little too full of yourself. But, why were these people who had annoyed you dying hours later? Were you cursing them? Was your anger some kind of curse? Were you the one that had condemned them to such a fate? You didn’t believe in magic, but you couldn’t explain such happenings any other way.

For the rest of the night, you sat in your bed, watching your favourite film and cuddling with your favourite plushie, trying to regain some sense of normality in these chaotic times.

…⊹₊⟡⋆…

A few weeks have passed since Monoma’s death. Your college released a letter a few days later stating that the police had ruled the blond’s death as a homicide. His baseball bat covered in only his fingerprints and blood was found next to his body in the men’s locker rooms. Death by trauma to the head. The weapon of choice clearly the baseball bat. The men’s locker rooms have only just reopened but no students are keen to use it. A memorial has also been erected on campus to honour his death.

Feeling guilty for what happened to him, you had bought him the most expensive bouquet at the supermarket and laid it by the others. You had whispered a short prayer, eyes closed, basking in the warmth of the autumn sun and the thick air of death.

Since then, you have been trying your best not to get annoyed or angry with anyone, fearing that there might be repercussions for doing so. The last thing you wanted to happen was for someone to die whom you had been irritated with. Such would confirm that indeed, you were really cursed. Or, a curse.

Like Ochaco, you had nightmares of what happened to Monoma most nights. But this time, you were not the victim, you were the perpetrator. Night after night you woke up in fits, eyes hazy and mind frenzied by the exhilaration of hitting that narcissistic boy over the head with his own baseball bat. In your dreams, you relished the feeling of seeing him fall to the ground, cursing your name, bleeding it. The adrenaline high was unlike any other, dropping the bat down next to him and making a break for it out the back.

You knew that Mina had been affected too. All of this death was draining the life from her. Her vitality sucked dry like salt on leeches. You never spoke to her of these dreams, nor did you to anyone else. You didn’t want to worry them. Instead, choosing to cry on your own most nights and make yourself your own cup of hot tea to relax.

By now, it was getting better. Things were evening out. The temperature was cooling to that perfect not-too-hot degree. The leaves were orange and brown now. Crispy. Falling to the ground. Perfect to crunch beneath your boots. You loved the refreshing breeze, especially after a night of rainfall. And with Mina’s annual Halloween party drawing near, you were feeling the best you had within the past couple months.

You had decided on a couple costume with Touya as Mina had with her boyfriend. You were still in the process of convincing Touya that going as an angel and devil was a good idea. You would be the angel and he the devil, duh. You already had the white corset, miniskirt, and knee-high boots. All you needed was a halo and wings. You ended up throwing caution to the wind and opting for a more scandalous outfit because why not? You wanted to have a good time, feel good in your body. Ain’t nothing wrong with that.

You were at Target right now, texting Touya pictures of the different wings they had. You couldn’t decide whether to opt for long or short wings.

you: [image attachments]

you: which one do you like better? long or short?

mafia boss: does it matter? just pick one.

you: of course it matters! it changes the look you know

mafia boss: whatever. just get the cheapest one. i’ll end up taking it off you anyways

you: 🧍

mafia boss: don’t text me just emojis. you know i hate it when you do that

you: 👉👈

mafia boss: [y/n]

mafia boss: stop that shit

you: 🙅

mafia boss: fucking hell. you’re so annoying you know that? can’t stand you sometimes

you: sorry boss😔

mafia boss: fuck off

two minutes later

mafia boss: get the short ones

You already had them in your cart after deciding that the long wings would be too much of a hassle to move around in. You headed to the self-checkout and paid for your goodies. Walking back to your car, you text the girls group chat about your purchases and they let you know that they’re almost done as well. The party is tomorrow night after all!

You make it back home safely and unpack your boot. Afterwards, you grab a glass of iced water and some frozen grapes, getting ready to settle into an afternoon study session.

…⊹₊⟡⋆…

The party was in an hour.

You were sitting on your bedroom floor, applying concealer to your dark under-eyes. You had already put on your costume (except for the wings and halo of course). You put on your makeup with a steady hand, thankfully applying your eyeliner perfectly the first time. It was one of those rare occasions where your wings were twins, not sisters. You finished off with some setting powder and setting spray, ecstatic with how the look turned out. You then put your products away in your organiser, throwing mascara-stained tissues in the small pink bin near the door.

Standing up, you grabbed your phone form your bed and saw Touya’s message that he was outside. You smiled to yourself and giggled a little, excited to show him your costume and to see him in his. You slipped on your halo and boots, leaving your wings for just before the party. You took a moment to look at yourself in the mirror. The corset highlighted your perked breasts, tiny waist and divine curves to perfection while the miniskirt showed off your round ass. Satisfied, you grabbed your clutch and headed to your front door. Before leaving, you called out to your parents, letting them know that you were going now.

As soon as you stepped out, you caught sight of Touya leaning against the side of his car, inked arms crossed over his chest. His white, spiky hair was the perfect contrast to the dark colour palette of his costume. Silky black button up rolled up to his elbows, barely buttoned to show off his toned contours; tight fitting black trousers to draw attention to those meaty thighs paired with black dress shoes. You were obsessed with the silver chains dangling from his neck, one with a large cross on it. He had changed his ear piercings to match. It was giving tortured mafia boss if not for the blood-red devil-horns headband clutched tight in his veiny hands.

You really should have had more input in his costume as it was CRIMINAL to look this good.

A lazy smile stretches across his face as he takes in you and your incessant ogling. Your knees have gone slightly weak from the sight of your boyfriend like this. But, you power through as you walk over to him, trying your best to look as effortless and confident as he does.

Once you’re within reach, he wraps his arm around your shoulders. He draws you into him, avoiding the bobbling halo with his chin. He smells like pine and cigarettes. Must have been with Jin.

“Don’t you clean up well?” You tease, pulling back from him.

“This?” He raises an eyebrow, sharp blue eyes narrowing slightly as he looks down at you. “This is nothing.” You chuckle, slapping your palm playfully against his exposed chest.

“This is everything,” you say to Touya as he moves and opens the passenger door for you.

The drive to Mina’s place isn’t too long. You love the little lanterns she’s put along the driveway; larger jack-o lanterns closer to the house. It had been cleared and returned back to Mina’s family at the start of this week from the authorities, just in time for her party. You noticed that the place already looked full, the party in full swing. Were you late?

Touya parks off to the side and you slip on your wings before he grabs your hand and guides you inside. There are already many drunk young people dancing or making out when you walk into the living room. You spot Mina and Himiko sitting together on the couch. Himiko notices you first and gives you a big wave, standing up as you come over. She came as a vampire, fake blood smeared across her lips and neck. Her already sharp canines make for the perfect fangs. She takes you into her arms, giving you a big hug before complimenting your costume. You return the compliment and move over to give Mina a hug.

She’s dressed as a playboy bunny; bow tie and white cuffs, black corset showing off her curves. Behind the couch, Kirishima stands in a tux.

“I love this,” you say, pulling away from her warm embrace. Your finger points to her costume. She giggles and eyes your costume in return.

“Spin!” She squeals. You laugh at her enthusiasm, doing a little spin. Your eyes meet Touya’s for a moment and all he can do is smirk at you.

“This is so hot!!” She exclaims as she claps her hands together. You laugh and thank her.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Touya looking around the room, his eyes scanning intensely as if searching for someone. You sit down on the couch; he’s in front of you. “Touya,” you start as you lean forward and grab his hand, “You okay?” He looks down at you with slightly wide eyes and raised brows. Yet in a second, all notion of surprise has been erased from his face. He now stares at you with an almost hungry glare, tongue darting out across his lower lip as his familiar grin stretches across his face.

“Fine. Why don’t I get you a drink?” You shake your head, Touya knows you don’t like drinking at parties.

Seeing your reluctance, he gets down on one knee in front of you. His other large, warm hand envelops yours.

“Come on, babe. You know I’ll take care of you.” You bite your lower lip, thinking his proposition over. Finally, you nod. One drink can’t hurt, right? He smiles wider, rising from the floor and leaving you with your friends on the couch.

You and the girls chat for a little before Himiko sees Midoriya arrive. In an instant, she’s up and walking over to him. You and Mina giggle, giving each other that knowing look.

You come a little closer and whisper in her ear, “Do you think Midoriya knows how she feels?”

Mina slaps your shoulder playfully as she rolls her eyes. “No way! He’s dumb as when it comes to romance.” You two laugh until Mina stands up suddenly, telling you that she and Kiri are gonna go check on the other guests. You nod, albeit saddened that you would be left alone. What was taking Touya so long? You wonder.

You don’t have to wonder for long though as a certain blond and black-haired boy comes almost running over to you.

“[Y/n]!! There you are! I was worried you weren’t gonna make it tonight.” Denki. You watch, mentally pleading for him not to come over as he comes over. You stand up to meet him, forcing yourself not to sigh or roll your eyes. Just play nice, you tell yourself. Touya will be here soon.

“Hey, Denki.” You give him a forced smile. He doesn’t seem to notice though (when does he ever?). His doe eyes rake over your figure, clearly enjoying how sumptuous you look in such a tight bodice and short skirt. You internally curse yourself. This is the kind of situation you wanted to avoid. Sex-crazed teenage boys checking you out. Should have come as a ghost or inflatable dinosaur, you think.

“Damn girl, someone better tell God he’s missing an angel.” Denki’s licking his lips, his golden eyes meeting yours. The lewd look in them sends shivers down your spine. And not in a good way.

You laugh nervously, “Haha yea, um. And what’re you, Denki?”

“I’m a cowboy obviously.” You get a better look at his costume. Cowboy boots, akubra, fringed jacket. How didn’t you see that? You furrow your brows, assuming that you were probably too uncomfortable to notice when a cold hand grabs your shoulder. You squeak, jumping slightly. You turn around, stepping back so you’re closer to Denki than you’re usually comfortable with. You’re met with deep red eyes beneath long, light blue waves.

“Shigaraki,” you breathe out. You chuckle, embarrassed by how much he surprised you.

“Come,” he says. You stop laughing. You look back at those soulless, bored eyes. They stare at you but you don’t feel like they’re really staring at you.

“What?”

“Come. We’re gonna have some fun,” he states in monotone.

He starts walking away from you, stopping near the doorway. He looks back at you expectantly. You turn to look at Denki. His golden gaze flickers back and forth between the blue-haired boy and you. You clear your throat briefly before you bid him a goodbye.

“Sorry, Denki. I’ll see you around.” You raise your hand to wave but he pipes up, “No!” You tilt your head to the side in confusion.

“I-I’ll come with you.” He leans closer to you and it takes everything in you not to lean back. He whispers to you, the scent of alcohol on his breath, “I don’t trust him.” You shake your head.

“That’s not necessary, Denki. I’m flattered, really, but—” Denki’s already started walking towards Shigaraki. He looks back at you, feigning confidence.

“Are you coming or what?”

You sigh. Your feet move on instinct towards the doorway where Shigaraki is. Denki waits for you to catch up and then stays behind you. Real tough guy.

Shigaraki leads you out of Mina’s house and into the surrounding woods. You all walk together without a light. The moon is bright overhead; full. It casts a certain glow over the scenery. You are closely behind Shigaraki and you notice his ‘costume’ (if you could call it that). He’s in a pair of baggy jeans and his usual long sleeve black tee.

“What did you come as, Shiggy?” You ask him.

He doesn’t turn around as he mumbles, “A high school drop-out.”

You continue walking in the twilight woods, dodging trees and their sagging branches. Twigs and dry leaves snap beneath your feet and you can hear the chattering of animals. By now, the sounds of the party have faded into the background. Only the reverb trickles to where you are. You begin to think that Shiggy lured you out here to fuck with you. Was this really his idea of fun?

You catch a glimpse of the lake. It sparkles beneath the full moon. The surface shimmers like a million jewels. The water is dark, more black than blue, nothing like Touya’s eyes. He has such bright, burning eyes. You feel a pang in your chest; you miss him already.

“Shiggy, where are we going?” You whine. You can hear how that nickname had his lips pressing into a hard line. He’s despised it ever since you started calling him that. But, he tolerates it. He knows that you like calling him that and Touya will have a go at him if he upsets you.

“Look.” His voice is as dull and cold as ever.

You look past his broad shoulders, seeing the outline of a cabin come into view. You couldn’t hear anything from inside and there didn’t appear to be any lights turned on.

“Is it just us or?” You ask.

“Y-yea.” Denki’s voice shakes. He clears his throat and you look behind you, seeing him a little further back than you thought he was. His hat has been lost to the wilderness. Shigaraki doesn’t respond as he emerges from the trees.

The space around the cabin has been cleared; a little path made tracking down to the lake. It looks abandoned. The vegetation is overgrown, vines climbing up the undulating wood. Shigaraki almost looks ghostly, godly, ethereal in the unfiltered moonlight. The light bounces off of his pale, dry skin. His hair looks like the soft ripples on the lake’s surface. His eyes sparkle like garnets. Your breath is taken away by the sight of him like this. The way his skin stretches taut over his jaw, collarbones, his scarred hands… What’s wrong with you?

You can’t see it but, you look like an actual angel from the heavens above in the moon’s glow. It catches on your loose curls which trail down to your waist, on the curve of your breasts pressed tight against your corset. It gives the exposed skin of your thighs and calves a certain radiance.

In a cacophony of twigs snapping and insects groaning, Denki stumbles out from the tree-line. You both turn your heads to look at him. Your usual response would be to giggle, but there was something unsettling in the air. Maybe it was the fact that it was Halloween. That you were all alone in the middle of the woods with two men, one you trust and one that looks like he might throw up from fear. That the sun’s burnish had since faded, leaving only the blackness of night. You couldn’t shake this feeling that something bad was going to happen.

Shigaraki moves towards the front door, opening it with some force due to the moss that had grown on the edges. He opens it wide, nodding for you all to enter. You look back at Denki and see how pale he’s become. Deciding that it’s for the best, you walk up to the cabin first and enter sideways to avoid hitting your wings. It takes a few moments for your eyes to adjust to the darkness of the cabin. The only light is that of the moon’s streaming in through the spider-webbed windows. You can just make out the lines of a couch off to the side when the door behind you slams shuts.

You try to turn around but you don’t get far. Your eyes widen as Shigaraki’s arm wraps around yours, pulling them behind your back. His hard body presses into you from behind.

“Shiggy!” You shout. His other hand comes to your chest, arm pressing slightly into your neck and keeping you facing forward. You whimper, struggling and trying to fight him off.

What you don’t notice is the man standing in front of you. Your jerking movements are silenced by his words.

“What’s wrong, baby? Aren’t you happy to see me?”

You look up, rapidly taking in a wide-eyed and equally panicking Denki. Pressed against his side, a figure black as night intercut by pale, tattooed skin and deliciously defined muscles. You meet those ocean blue eyes, crinkled in amusement. A wide, manic grin is spread across his pink-inked lips.

“Touya.” Your voice is barely audible. You struggle even harder in Shigaraki’s hold. “Touya! Touya, what’s going on? I thought—” You let out a yelp as your blue-haired captor tightens his grip on you.

“Touya,” you yelp. You’re looking up at him with desperation in your eyes. Your breathing is stuttered and heartbeat erratically thumping in your chest.

Touya’s fierce eyes flicker to his accomplice for a moment before meeting yours again.

“What did you think? That we were gonna ‘have some fun’? We are, baby.” Touya shifts forward, bringing a struggling Denki with him. “We are.” And then you see it. The silver sleek glimmer of a knife.

It’s like time has slowed down twofold as you watch Touya’s pale fingers flex around the steel handle and raise the blade, plunging it deep into the blond boy’s chest. You scream. Your shriek echoes in your own mind, bouncing off the walls. Reverberating. You can’t close your eyes but you can’t bear to watch as Touya continues to drive the knife into Denki’s increasingly limp body. You can’t stop seeing the blood bleeding out, staining, conquering the plaid shirt he wears, spilling onto the fringed jacket, spewing onto his jeans. You can’t stop hearing his shrieks and pleas for mercy. His pain. Your eyes, your ears, are glued to the sight.

Touya throws him to the side. Limp body landing with a thud like a doll. His golden eyes are dull, lifeless, wide-open. His final resting face is one of terror. Even in death, he’s looking at you.

Hot, dripping, blood-stained fingers grab harshly at your jaw, bringing your gaze to your… Your what? Your boyfriend? Lover? The man that just stabbed an innocent boy to death in front of you? His brows furrow, seeing your unfocused gaze. All you can utter is his name.

“Touya…” He bursts out laughing. In a fit. You watch as he just stands there, fingers gripping you harshly, and cackling harshly. At what? You don’t understand. What could possibly be funny about this situation?

“Touya, why?” You ask quietly. It’s all you can do to keep yourself from collapsing on the floor. He snaps his head back to you.

“Why? Isn’t it obvious? I’m doing this all for you.”

Did you hear that right?

He chuckles, “You can’t really be that dumb, can you?” You stopped functioning about three minutes ago. You’re left speechless by him, no response forming in your mind. Only the scenes of what you just saw fill it. Your consciousness. Your unconsciousness. You can taste the metallic scent of blood on your tongue. You inhale it, unable to escape its tang. It fills the cabin, stifling.

“You really haven’t worked it out? Bubblegum bitch, that narcissist, and short circuit over here. I killed them all for you.”

What?

He. You. I… He what?

You blink slowly, trying to un-hear the words you just heard.

“Touya—”

“You just don’t get it, do you?” He steps back, putting distance between you and taking his bloodied fingers with him. He stretches his arms to the side, knife still in his hand, and looks upward.

“I love you so much, [y/n]. So much. I would kill for you. Why couldn’t you just ask me to?” His arms fall to his sides, head lowering to look back to you. He has this crazed melancholy look in his eyes. You feel Shigaraki’s fingers shift on arm, causing you to whimper. He had been holding you so tight. Somehow, you hadn’t even noticed until now.

You’re choking back sobs, tears welling in the corners of your eyes as you speak, “T-Touya.” Your voice wavers. You look down, letting the tears fall. Your breaths are shaky, racking through your body. You stand there, kept upright by Shigaraki’s harsh grip, sobbing. You would fall to the floor if you could. Touya’s sharp eyes watch your every movement. He sees how much your small shoulders tremble with your tears. But, he doesn’t have time to deal with your emotional outburst when he’s got other plans on his mind.

You feel Touya’s familiar hand gripping your shoulder, pushing you back slightly. You throw your head back, teary eyes meeting his. You blink, his perfect face becoming clearer. “You’re my girl, aren’t you? Forever mine.” He’s smiling down at you, all traces of sadness gone. Replaced with something else. You bite your lower lip roughly, trying to keep the tremors in.

You know that the victims of the love of your life had annoyed you, had hurt you, but did they deserve to die for that? You couldn’t say for certain.

You can feel his grip on your shoulder tighten. You yelp and cry out, “I-I… I don’t know, Touya. I don’t know!” This was too much to process. Too much for you to handle.

He looks past you to Shigaraki. He commands the blue-haired boy to hold your neck. You shudder in fright and struggle, crying out ‘No!’ Unfortunately, to no avail. Shigaraki’s got your head pinned to the side with his hand that was on your chest. The length of your neck is exposed to your boyfriend. You look to the side, your pretty eyes wide and afraid. Like a deer in headlights. You watch as Touya raises the blood-slicked knife to your pale, delicate skin. And then, you feel it.

You scream out in pain, white-hot searing pain as you feel the blade dig into your skin, dragging across. A moment of relief, and then the burn is back. You’re crying, sobbing like your life depends on it. You’re praying to the Lords above, begging for sweet mercy on your soul.

After an eon of pain, the blade leaves your skin. But, it feels like it never left. You hear it thud on the floorboards.

You can’t seem to stop crying. You feel Shigaraki’s hand leave your cheek only for it to be replaced by Touya’s long, red fingers gripping your chin once more. You watch through cloudy eyes as he leans down, thick tongue on your wound, lapping your blood like a newborn pup it’s mother’s milk. You choke out another sob. He pulls back, stretching out his arms to you like he would when you fall into his arms and give him a big hug.

“Come ‘ere.”

Shigaraki lets go of you. You stumble forward, collapsing into Touya. You’re breathing hard. You can’t decide whether you’re repulsed by the wet drip-press of blood staining Touya’s clothes and skin against your clammy, trembling body. Touya taunts, teases you, “Why don’t we have some fun now?” You want to smack him across the head. And then tell him to never let you go. You barely manage a nod to which Touya smirks at your compliance. Not that it would have mattered. He knew he could always convince you.

Even though he’s hurt you, just now actually in a very tangible, painful way, you still loved him. God… You loved him like everyone loves cat videos, like flowers love the sun, or mosquitoes love LED zappers. You love him in a way that you are drawn to him, you want to be with him, and you need him, even if there are consequences. Since when have you been so clingy? It doesn’t matter now. There’s no cure for such inevitable feelings. He could kill you, he could’ve killed you, and you wouldn’t have cared. There is no way humanly possible that he could get rid of you now. That’s how you loved him.

He loops his arm under your legs, picking you up and carrying you. Your arms wrap around his neck, tears still running down your cheeks as pain courses throughout your body. And not just the physical kind. You don’t care to watch as Touya takes you up the stairs and to the master bedroom at the back of the cabin, Shigaraki silently following behind.

With one hand around you, he opens the bedroom door with the other. He walks through the threshold, coming over to the bed and dropping you onto it. You yelp in pain at the sudden drop. Your eyes squint at the glow of the lamp Touya just flicked on. He waits patiently for you to adjust, his body hovering above yours. Your eyes focus, seeing him really for the first time since he left your side at the party. He really is covered in blood, soaked to the bone. And soon, you will be too.

He leans down, bringing his lips to yours. You sigh into the kiss, enjoying the familiar heat he ignites beneath your skin. Your hands reach up and grip his shoulders. They slide up slicked with blood to his neck and then into his white, now red, locks. You can feel him smile into you. His own hands on you. One grasping the back of your neck, careful to avoid your still bleeding cut. The other was tight on your waist. You moan into his lips, relishing in the sweet, wet sensation of his tongue licking your lips and slipping into your mouth. You moan louder once your tongues swirl together. Your fingers tug at the hair on the base of his neck, earning a groan from him.

Soon enough, he pulls away and sits back on his haunches. You’re breathless, watching intently as he rips a strip of fabric from your white skirt. He leans down, using it to wipe the blood of the mark he’s left on you. He repeats the process, tearing off another strip. But this time, he presses the fabric into your weeping wound. You cry out, “Fuck, Touya! You’re hurting me.” He clicks his tongue at you. “Grit your teeth, love. I want your scar to be pretty.” You whimper in response, doing as he tells you.

After a couple of minutes, he removes the blood-soaked fabric from your neck. He turns it over and wipes it gently. A satisfied smirk spreads across his face; he throws it to the floor. He wipes his hands on your previously white corset, shifting back and rolling you over onto your stomach. You can feel him take off your angel wings that were attached to it before his fingers expertly work at the laces you asked your mother to tie only hours earlier. How innocent you were then. How untouched by the stench, the feel of blood caressing your soft skin. How holy your memories, the things you had seen were. Something you would never get back, not with time, not with healing.

You tried to push yourself up a little to breathe, seeing as your face was stuffed into a fluffy white pillow. But Touya wasn’t having that. As soon as you moved, the flat of his palm pressed down on your upper back, making your attempt futile. You settled for turning your head to the side. And what you see shocks you. More like, who you see. You hadn’t realised that Shigaraki followed you two up here. And now, your eyes were wide and mouth slightly agape at seeing him sitting on a plush chair in the corner, playing some game on his phone. Unbothered much? Goals fr.

You feel the release of your corset as Touya finishes ripping out the cord. He turns you over onto your back, thighs straddling your hips, and he tears the bodice from your body. Your hands reflexively come to your chest, covering your exposed breasts. That earns you creased brows and a tensed jaw from Touya. When he looks at you expectantly, urging you to drop your hands, you shake your head and then tilt it in Shigaraki’s direction. Touya reassures you, “Don’t worry about him.” His fingers wrap around your wrists pulling and pushing them down to your sides. “Pay attention to me.” You bite your lip and nod.

Touya runs his fingers over your chest, leaving burning-hot, red streaks across the porcelain skin. You shiver beneath his touch, his skin impossibly hot. The heat radiates and seeps into your body, your bones, with every single one of his touches. He’s got that shit-eating grin on his face, enjoying the effect he’s having on you. He leans down, lips leaving kisses and nips on your décolletage, making his way down to your full breasts. He bites at the flesh, sucking hickeys on the softness. You mewl the sensation, breath getting caught in your throat. Your fingers are back in his hair, gripping it tighter once he takes your nipple into his blazingly hot mouth. You cry out in pleasure.

Amidst the sensations turning you into a gooey mush beneath your lover’s fingertips, you can feel the cool, late night breeze on your skin. You turn your head to the side, seeing the window cracked open halfway. The view is stunning. The lake in clear view, only slightly hindered by the dense trees. It glistens the way it did when you were last outside. When Denki was still— You bite back at the thought, telling yourself that you would deal with the consequences of this all later. Right now, you just need to feel this. To feel him.

You moan, back arching slightly as Touya tongue drifts across your skin. The searing saliva like cold water painting your body because of the breeze. A break from his heat.

Touya’s hands come to your ribs, gently gripping them, feeling the ridges beneath and between his fingers, and pushing you back down onto the blankets. You bite your lip, sigh-moaning. He groans at the sight of his handprints on you once he trails his fingers down your stomach.

You’re bucking your hips, mewing his name as his fingers curl beneath the waistband of your white skirt. He chuckles, proud that he can get his little girl this riled up with such little foreplay. He begins to pull it down, but the skirt won’t budge without hurting you; it’s caught on your wide hips.

“Touyaaaa,” you moan. His brows furrow.

“How the fuck do I get this off you?” You giggle in response.

He speaks through tense teeth, “Where’s the zip?” He’s gripping your hips tightly through the skirt, trying to stop you from moving around so much. He loves how needy you are but he wants you to be patient. Something you’re not very good at.

“At the back,” you coo.

Armed with that knowledge, he grips the waistband, reefing it to the side so that he can see the zip. He pulls the zip down, dragging the skirt over your legs. Next, he removes your knee-high boots. He takes a few nips and bites at your calves and shins once pulling them off. You gasp in shock. You were so exposed now. The breeze like water washing over your body, basking it in coolness. All that was left was your halo headband and panties.

Leaning down, he stripped you of those too before returning to his spot between your legs, his lips and tongue on your stomach. He kisses down the length of it, giving the sides of your waist and hips extra attention. You love the sensation of his teeth drawing in the flesh over your hip bones. It has you squealing and moaning. It has your arousal pooling in between your legs. You feel grateful that your heat isn’t pressed against him. At least, not yet. That would be too much for you to handle right now.

And he doesn’t stop there. Soon, he’s raising your legs and draping them over his shoulders, leaving love bites all over your inner thighs. You can feel his hot breath fanning your pussy. It has you drawing in a shaky breath, waiting for his head to dip down and give you what you’ve been needing for the past couple months.

You moan loudly once his tongue is slipping through your folds, hitting all the right spots and leaving you shuddering in pleasure. He goes hard, sucking and slurping your cunt like it’s his lifeline. A slew of moans alongside the wet sloppy sounds of your pussy fill the room.

“Touya! Touyaaa.” You keep repeating his name as his tongue circles your clit, taking it into his mouth. The heat makes you melt even more into a blubbering mess of slick, sweat, and blood. You squeal as he slips his finger into you, no warning. You’re up on your elbows, looking down at him as he continues sucking your clit, smirking all the while, and drawing his finger in and out of your sopping hole. Your back arcs at a particularly deep push in of his finger, your elbows giving out. You moan at the sensation.

Seeing how much you enjoyed that, he adds another finger. Only two and you already feel so full of him. Touya might not have thick fingers, but their length plunges so deep into you. They have you mewling like his cock will once he slips it into you.

He continues sliding his fingers in and out of you, leans back slightly to take in the sight of his girl at his complete mercy. His thumb flicks over your clit, pressing hard while his fingers curl, hitting your g-spot. You can’t control the moans and whines that slip past your mouth once you feel that, and how they continue to spew from you as he continues to repeat the movement over and over again.

And then, he stops. Touya draws his fingers out of you. You watch, mind hazy with pleasure, what happens next. Touya sits back fully, your legs falling from his shoulders. He looks off to the side, the sight of him something else with the blood now mostly dried, chains stained as well as his exposed chest.

He calls out, “Shigaraki.” The blue-haired boy looks up, scrunching up his brows.

“What?” He asks, annoyance evident in his tone. Touya smirks.

“Come over here.” Shigaraki rolls his eyes.

Touya repeats himself, “Come here.” Shigaraki groans, dropping his phone onto the chair as he rises from it and comes to stand off to the side of the bed.

Your eyes are glued to Touya raising the fingers that were just inside of you to Shigaraki.

Touya stares at the boy beside him as he says, “Taste her. She’s as good as she looks.” Shigaraki’s red like the blood staining your body’s eyes flick between you and Touya’s soaked fingers before leans down and takes them in his mouth.

Your eyes widen. You never would have thought in a million years that you would see Shigaraki sucking Touya’s fingers, let alone sucking your juices off of Touya’s fingers. The blue-haired boy pulls back and shrugs.

“A bit sweet,” is all he has to say about you.

Touya chuckles, “You know, Shigs, if you’d ever tasted a woman before then you would know the difference between what tastes good and what doesn’t.”

Shigaraki narrows his eyes at his friend. It’s not a secret among his friend group that he’s not… particularly experienced. And he seems to like it that way. Doesn’t mean though that they don’t give him shit for it whenever possible.

“I don’t need to.” This only makes Touya laugh more.

“Sure sure, Shigs. Why don’t you get back to your game or whatever?” Touya throws his head back now in laughter. But, the blue-haired boy just stands there, staring at Touya. It’s clear that he’s teetering on the edge of retreating into nonchalance and… and something else. You sit up, biting your lip.

“Touya,” you say. Your arms are covering your chest, trying to preserve what little of your dignity you have left in Shigaraku’s presence.

Touya rolls his head to the side, looking at you before rolling his head to the other side and looking up at Shigaraki.

“What? You wanna have a go? Think I’d share my girl with you?” Touya’s smiling, eyes almost closed from how wide his grin is.

Shigaraki grumbles, “Of course not.” He steps back and starts to walk back to his spot when Touya half gets up, one of his legs on the floor, the other still beneath his body. His fingers grasp Shigaraki’s forearm.

“I’m just fucking with you jeez, Shigs. Come here.”

Now you’ve got goggle eyes like a dead fish. Did you hear that quite right? Did that-does he mean?

Shigaraki shakes Touya’s hand off, turning back around to look at the both of you. Touya looks back at you. He settles back down on the bed, leaning over to you and pushing you down. Your hands are on his chest.

“Touya.” Your voice has jumped an octave or two.

“Touya,” you say with more urgency.

He sighs, “Shh, babe.” Your back is pressed into the soft blankets again.

“You don’t mind if he joins us, do you?” You let out a little whine, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth. The pink-red flesh slips, its fullness rounding out perfectly. Touya traces it with his thumb slowly. Sexily.

“Touyaaa,” you whine again.

He shakes his head before reassuring you, “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll be right here.”

You could feel your heart fluttering, stuttering. Your cheeks set aflame. You just didn’t think that this would ever actually happen. Even the thought of… of Shigaraki seeing you in this way and Touya allowing it never-never crossed your mind. You felt so unprepared. You press your fingers harder into Touya’s solid black and red-stained skin. You nod.

“Okay just, just please… Take care of me.” Your eyes look so round, your lips so plump, so delicate, in Touya’s piercing eyes. He gives you a gentle peck before leaning back and hopping off the bed. He claps a hand on Shigaraki’s back, giving him a final word of advice.

“She’s all yours now. Just be careful, yea? ‘Lax on the teeth.” You gulp as Touya laughs. Shigaraki rolls his eyes.

“Whatever.”

He kneels down on the bed, shifting to take Touya’s place. You place your legs on either side of him, nibbling on your lips nervously. Your gaze flickers up to Touya, giving him pleading eyes, as he stands back. His arms are crossed over his chest, a sadistic smile on his lips. You look back to Shigaraki. He seems… confused. He slowly wraps his cold hands around the underside of your thighs, pushing them closer to you so he can get a better look at you. You feel nervous, sweat beginning to bead down your back. You feel so bare under Shigaraki’s careful eye because you are. And you hope that he has an idea of what to do in the position he’s in.

He meets your eyes for a long moment, staring into them with such intensity you have yet to see. It was almost as if he was getting ready to prove you wrong. To prove Touya wrong about what he could do to a woman and how he could make her feel. He breaks the stare, licking his chapped lips hungrily as he moves one of his hands closer to your heat. You can feel his fingertips lightly ghosting over your clit and folds. Enough to send shivers (good ones thankfully) throughout your entire body. You suck in a breath. Fierce eyes flicker, watching your reaction. He does the movement again, dragging his fingers through your folds firmer this time. This earns a small moan from you.

You know for a fact that you are soaked down there, so it comes as a surprise when he spits on your pussy. He uses his fingers to spread the saliva, massaging it into your tender, soft skin. Your breathing is hitching. At last, he brings his face down. You feel his nose graze your clit as his warm tongue licks from your hole up to it. Your breathing catches. He keeps going, slow and steady. He listens to how you react when he applies pressure in certain spots, soon picking up on how much you enjoy it when he stimulates your clit. His thumb grazes over your hood and he takes the sensitive bundle of nerves into his mouth.

You moan as he sucks on it, his tongue swirling over and around it. He continues and you feel his teeth graze your clit. The sensation has you pressing yourself up on your elbows, your hand coming to his cheek and pulling his head back. He looks up at you, a line of spit connecting your soaking pussy and his lips. You shake your head.

“No teeth, at all, okay?” He hums in response before sitting up. He gives you this look. It’s almost like a warning. To be cautious. You tilt your head to the side, confused.

Cool fingers grab your searing hips and pull you forward so that your ass is pressed against his clothed chest, thighs on his shoulders. You moan, arching your back as you feel his tongue slip into your hole. He explores you, the way you taste. You’re like putty in his mouth the way you seem to soften and slip.

You let him hold you, and then he flicks his tongue and you’re pressing your hips up again as your back arcs. For the next few, you go from looking up at white ceiling to squeezing your eyes closed, looking at Shiggy and then looking at Touya. You can barely focus on the glint in your partner’s eyes. The way he likes seeing you so merciful and shameless. He’s glad Shigaraki actually has some idea of what he’s doing (as if) and if he doesn’t, then you’ll take charge.

From the sounds of your filthy mewls, Touya knows you’re getting close and he doesn’t want to miss a moment of your climax.

“Shigs,” he says, voice low. The blue-haired boy stops his ministrations. His unruly hair falls back as he looks up, licking his now soaked lips.

“Save me some, will you?” Shigaraki smirks.

“You can have her back now.” He looks down at his work — you breathless and dazed, saliva and slick running down your tummy and ass — satisfied. He gently sets you back down on the bed, tongue on your body from your pussy, up and over your stomach and through your breasts, up your neck to the soft skin beneath your ear where he nips. Your arms wrap around the back of his neck and for the first time, your faces come close. You’re looking up at him with lustful, lazy eyes while he’s looking at you with a cocky smirk on his lips. He leans down, closing the gap between you and gives you a tender, slow kiss. His first kiss.

You moan into his mouth, tasting yourself all over his tongue that glides against yours. His arms are wrapped around your upper back, pulling you deeper into him. It’s only when Touya clears his throat that Shigaraki pulls away from you.

He says, “Actually, Shigs. I think we should share for the night. I bet [y/n] would like that, wouldn’t you doll?” You let out a strangled noise, more like a moan than a hum. Touya chuckles. Shigaraki’s forehead creases as he looks from Touya to you and back.

He sighs, “And waste my time?” An irritated noise comes from your throat on instinct.

“Shiggyyy,” you mewl. You have his attention at once.

“Am I really a waste of your time?” You sound much more hurt than you actually are at his words. Shiggy looks taken aback by your sudden emotional sensitivity.

“Yes.”

Touya’s hand grips his shoulder, pulling him back from you. He leans down as whispers but not really as you can still hear him in the blue-haired boy’s ear, “If a woman asks you if she’s a waste of your time, the answer is always ‘No’.” Touya’s voice quietens so you strain to hear it, “To her face, anyways.” Shigaraki looks unamused by his friend’s ‘helpful’ tip.

Touya pulls back now, speaking at his usual volume in his usual offhand manner, “Suit yourself though. I trust that if you don’t wanna be up ‘ere with us then you’ll be taking care of what’s downstairs.”

To think, a boy lie dead downstairs. And you were just bucking your hips like a bitch in heat and crying out for more. Disgusting. Unfortunately true.

At this, Shigaraki seems to liven up. He retorts, “I’d rather suck your dick than do your bidding.”

Touya laughs, “That can be arranged. What do you think, my pretty girl?” You shake your head, sitting up too.

“Only I get to do that,” you tease.

Touya says through his smirk, “You heard her. Now, get downstairs if you’re not gonna be of any use up ‘ere.”

Your boyfriend lets go of Shigaraki’s shoulder and comes closer to you. You grin as he pulls you into a rough kiss. His teeth bite into your lower lip, his tongue exercises dominance over yours. He leaves your lips, peppering kisses and bites on your chin and neck, just missing your wound. Once he pulls back, he grabs your hands and puts them on his chest, giving you the hint to take off his clothes. You comply, unbuttoning the only two buttoned-buttons on his shirt and pushing it back, helping him to pull it off. You remove his devil-horns headband, casting it to the side. Next, you go for his belt. You unbuckle it and look up, your [e/c] eyes meeting his blue ones. You raise your eyebrow, silently asking him how he wants you to do this. He catches your meaning as he’s caught it many a time before and slides off of the bed. He leans over to you and grips your forearms, helping to pull you off it.

You’re unsteady on your feet, falling into him from your awfully weak knees. He grins, placing his hands on your shoulders and gently pushing you down to your knees. All while, Shigaraki watches. He hasn’t moved an inch since Touya’s demand-request.

You untie Touya’s shoes and pull them off before unzipping his trousers and pulling them off too. You run your hands up and down his inked-pale legs, gripping his thighs before moving your hands to cup his erect cock. You can see and feel how hard it is through his bloodied trunks. You smirk as he groans into your touch. You apply pressure at the base before running your hand along his dick. “Don’t make me wait, love.” You giggle in response, hands in the waistband and his underwear down his legs and off.

You love the sight of him. So swollen and hard, precum leaking out of the tip. Touya’s eyes are on you, waiting for you to suck him off. You grasp his tip, thumb in his slit before spreading his precum down his shaft. You sloppily suck the tip, saliva dripping down the length of his cock. You can taste the salt of his precum and the metallic-ness of… of Denki’s blood. You pull your mouth off of him, licking your other palm and using two hands to jerk him off. You do so for a little, enjoying watching him get all worked up. He presses his hips forward, the look in his eyes begging you to just take him back in your warm mouth.

The outside breeze ruffles your loose curls and cools the saliva on his cock, causing him to suck in a breath. You give him what he wants. Your big eyes look up at him as you take his tip back into your mouth. You bob your head up and down, hollowing out your cheeks. One hand grips his base tightly while the other cups and fondles his balls. He’s groaning and panting hard at how good your mouth feels. And soon enough, he needs more.

You feel Touya’s fingers wrap around your locks, close to your roots. He steadies your head and rocks his hips, pumping his cock in and out of your mouth. Your hands hold his thighs as he fucks your dirty mouth. You can’t take your eyes off of him, and he can’t take his off of you. You moan into his cock and Touya stops thrusting, instead gripping the back of your head with his other hand and shoving his entire cock down your throat. His white hair tickles your nose as you gag around him, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. He likes it when you choke on his dick and cry for him.

He keeps you like that, thrusting his hips slightly back and forth so you deep-throat him. You’re gagging and crying, and you wouldn’t want it any other way. After a minute or two, he gives you the reprieve you deserve, pulling your head back so his cock falls from your mouth. He tilts your head back so his angel is looking up at him and wipes your tears away. You sniffle and grab his wrists with your small hands. You smile up at him. There’s no other man whose cock you would so willingly choke on but Touya’s.

“Good girl,” Touya mutters under his breath. He leans down, locking his hands under your shoulders and helping you up to your feet. Your bodies press into one another and you share another passionate kiss. Your height difference means that Touya’s cock springs against your lower tummy. You moan as his fingers pull at your hair. Your back arcs into him in response. He pulls away, spit dripping down your chin. He wipes it off with his palm, really noticing now how much enjoys seeing your mascara ruined and blood speckled and smeared on your face.

He turns to the side, bringing you with him. He looks over you, arms around you tight, at Shigaraki.

Touya teases, “Thought you didn’t wanna waste your time?” He raises an eyebrow and you giggle. You turn around, Touya’s arms wrapped below and over your breasts. You both look at the boy sitting on the edge of the bed. He huffs, looking away from you both.

“I hate you.” You giggle and lean back, looking up at Touya. He’s staring at Shigaraki. You bite your lip playfully and look back to the blue-haired boy. You tug at Touya’s arms and he releases you.

You walk over to Shigaraki. Seeing how he’s rather intent on ignoring you, you place a hand on his cheek and turn his head to face you. He stares up at you, lips pressed into a hard line once again.

You say quietly, “Shigaraki” He sighs. He reaches out to touch your shoulder but stops just short, hesitant. You gnaw on the side of your lower lip, curious and nervous about him. About what he wants.

You continue, “If you join Touya and I, you can touch me all you like. Is that something you want?” He shakes his head, smiling sadly.

“I hate touching.”

You nod, “I know. But…” You’re hesitant to outright ask him to join. You don’t want to pressure him into something he doesn’t want to do. And you’re already getting the hint that he’s feeling conflicted about the whole situation, regardless of what you or Touya want.

You step back, your hand falling from his cheek. But, he catches it. His red eyes meet yours as he raises your hand to his lips, gently kissing the back of it.

“Don’t bore me,” he says. He stands up, scarred fingers hooking beneath the hem of his loose black shirt and pulling it off. You smirk, looking at Touya. You wish you could wiggle your brows like Mina can. If you could, this would have been the moment for it.

The warm glow of the lamp illuminates his pale skin; shadows cast on his surprisingly taut muscles. Your hands go to his jeans, unbuttoning them. Before you can pull them off, he pulls you into another kiss. This one is much deeper and hungry than the last. This one causes slick to pour from your pussy. You can feel it trailing down your thighs from how hard you’re pressing them together. Sucking Touya’s cock definitely didn’t help in that department, and now Shigaraki’s lips on yours, his fingers gripping your flesh is sending you overboard.

…⊹₊⟡⋆…

You scream out as Touya thrusts into you roughly from behind. Your delicate hands grip Shigaraki’s pecs as you rock forward to their rhythm. You’re straddling him, cock pumping into your pussy as Touya’s does into your ass. You’re a moaning mess. Your back arcs with every movement. You’ve never felt so full before. The sensations familiar yet foreign, bringing you pleasure and pain in the stretch. You can feel Shigaraki’s red eyes on you, his stare intense. He’s watching how you fall further apart with every thrust in and draw out. How you can barely keep breath in your lungs. How you bite down on your lip over and over again. He reaches up and grabs both sides of your face, drawing you down and pulling you into a sloppy kiss.

You’re sent forward, squealing into Shigaraki’s mouth as Touya slaps the fat of your ass cheek. You break away from the kiss, head down as you shift further forward. Touya encourages you, his hand pushing your lower back down so that you lay against Shigaraki. Your head slips into his pale shoulder, light blue waves tickling your forehead resting on his collarbone. All of your moans and whines right below the boy’s ear.

Touya picks up the pace, fucking you harder and harder. Your arms wrap tight around Shigaraki’s neck as your mind goes blank, trying to comprehend the feelings, the buried desires, your boyfriend is setting alight in your body. You feel Shigaraki’s hand come to the back of your head, fingers threading into your now matted curls. His other arm wraps around your upper back, steadying you as he follows Touya’s lead, thrusting faster and deeper into you.

No longer can you feel the cool breeze filtering through the open window for all you can feel is the hot, slick, stick of your bodies pressed together. Your body begins to tremble, shoulders shaking as you feel wave after wave of pleasure crash throughout your body. Your moans have turned into whimpers and whines, mewls, shrieks. You feel yourself getting worked up with emotion. A familiar swell rises in your throat. And before you realise it, tears are streaming down your cheeks.

Shigaraki looks down at you, alarmed at hearing you begin to sob. The wetness of your tears and breath dampens his skin. He looks up at Touya who either hasn’t realised or remains unfazed.

He grunts out, “She’s crying.” Touya chuckles short, licking his lips.

“Good.” He wraps his inked hand around the front of your neck, pulling you back and leaning down so that his lips are by your ear.

“You like this, don’t you baby?” You whine out your agreement. Shifting your head slightly to catch his lips in a rough kiss. His teeth tear at your already bitten lower lip, the soft flesh swollen at this point. His tongue dominates yours in a dance, spit dripping, teeth gnashing. You can only moan into it. He pulls back, smirking at seeing how he’s fucked you into such a state.

You practically collapse onto Shigaraki’s chest, going back to holding him tight, trying to steady yourself in this moment.

You don’t have to try for long though as Touya abruptly stops, pulling out of you. Shigaraki is far more confused than you are, looking at his friend with furrowed brows. You’re just grateful for a minute of rest. A very short minute, might I add. Touya leans over you, picking you up and re-positioning you so that your legs rest on his shoulders, your back pressed to Shigaraki’s chest. You’re mewling as Touya eases Shiggy’s length into your ass, giving you a few seconds to adjust before he rams himself into your cunt. Your back arcs reflexively, your hands gripping your breasts. Touya wastes no more time, pounding into you as he was before.

You swear you’re seeing stars from the way this feels. You’re squealing with every squelching plunge of their cocks into you. You can’t stop crying, the pleasure far too overwhelming. You call out their names through tears, your voice shaking as much as you are. It was as though you were in heaven. But that couldn’t be right because the way your body was begging for more was so sinful. In this moment, you couldn’t care less whether this was right or wrong, holy or unholy. All you wanted was the sweet release coiling in the pit of your stomach.

“T-Touya! Touya.” He leans down, folding you, his hands pressing into the sheets beside Shigaraki’s head.

“What is it?” He says. His voice is gruff, rasping. You cross your ankles behind his head, your eyes staring into his. You try to tell him what you mean with your eyes. He’s usually very good at picking up on your non-verbal meaning. But sometimes, he likes making you say the things you would rather leave unsaid. Like right now.

“Come on, doll. Tell me,” he demands. He grits his teeth as you scream out at his particularly merciless thrust. Your eyes roll upwards, your head tipping back naturally. You’re rendered speechless, mentally begging Shigaraki to catch your meaning and speak for you. He doesn’t.

“Uh,” the boy groans. “Think she’s uh. Nearing her end?” Red eyes meet blue in an exchange of understanding. Touya grins wide at this revelation (that he totally didn’t pick up on before you even opened your mouth).

He teases you, hand wrapping around your neck, finger beneath your jaw. He pulls your head back forward, moaning as you look at him. He loves seeing you so fucked out.

“Is that what you were tryna say? You gonna cum for Shigs and I? Is that what you meant?” His fingers press into the sides of your neck, earning a yelp from you. You do your best to nod, lips slightly parted and pouty. But that’s not all you wanted to say.

Your voice comes out breathy and broken, “I want-want you t—” You throw your head back once again at the sensation of how deep the boys are in you. You swear your guts are gonna be re-arranged with how harshly they’re fucking you right now.

Touya raises his voice but you know he’s still playing with you. “What?! Spit it out already.” His hand shifts up your neck, fingers coming to grip your jaw. You swear he’s already bruised you there, fingertips pressing into all of the sore spots. You whimper.

“Touya. Calm down,” Shigaraki groans out. Touya’s gaze flickers up to him for a second before coming back to you. He’s smushing your cheeks together, waiting for your confession. Your fingers wrap around his wrist, body bouncing with each thrust.

You mewl, “You to cum-in me-please.”

He continues teasing you, saying, “Just me?”

“N-no,” you whine, choking out another sob. Touya licks his lips, looking past you to Shigaraki.

He teases, “You ‘ear that? She’s such a filthy slut, isn’t she?” He lets go of your chin, stroking your face from your forehead to your cheek with the back of his hand.

“Such a dirty girl with such a sweet face. You gonna be a good girl for us and take it?” You nod, a crying, pathetic mess.

Touya leans back, pushing the back of your thighs into your chest and holding your legs by your ankles in one hand, the other smacking your ass. He fucks you at a brutal pace. Shigaraki gladly matches it. You cry harder, head rolling to the side and eyes finding Shigaraki’s. His fingers thread back into your hair, gently pulling your head back and drawing you into another kiss.

He’s never really thought about how this would feel. How tight a woman could feel wrapped around his girth, drawing him in and squeezing around him. How she would look up at him, big doll eyes, and plead him to keep going. To keep pleasuring her. How she would taste. How she would sound. The foreign feelings that would rise in his body. Feelings he doesn’t know how to handle. What he does know is that he’s drunk on your lips, on every moan and whine you make, the taste of you, the scent of you. He can’t get enough of you just like this.

Once more, you pull away, head lolling to the back and side. You can feel your climax coming in hard and fast, knot tightening and tightening until it’s about to snap. So good it hurts. Shigaraki’s fingers are on your clit, making your fit of sobs and mewls even louder and erratic. You squeeze your eyes shut tight like you clench your walls around their cocks. You’re getting closer and closer. Any second now you’re going to burst.

And then, you do. When the pleasure hits, you scream. Sobbing and seeing the universe. You’ve never felt anything like this before. The sensations convulsing throughout your body are unlike any other. They take you to heights you’ve never been. They have you calling out the filthiest shit between tight teeth. You hear Touya and Shigaraki’s groans, their hot seed shooting ropes into you. Your back is arched so much that the top of your head touches the blue-haired boy’s chest. You feel so so so full of cock and and cum.

You’re shaking in fits as your orgasm begins leaving your body. Tears and sobs rack through you. Touya pulls out of you, seeing how you’re trembling. He leans over your body, hand cupping the back of your head and bringing your face to the crook of his neck. His other arm is wrapped around you, hand rubbing circles on your back.

He comforts you, “Shh shh, baby. You’re okay. You’re okay.” He holds you, soothing you and helping you to calm down. As he does so, Shigaraki pulls out of you, a whimper slipping from your lips. He shifts to the side, allowing Touya to manoeuvre you onto your side and lay down with you. Warm light catches on blue hair as Shigaraki grabs the bloodied blankets kicked off the bed. He drapes them over your bodies, arms wrapping around your lower tummy and head resting on the back of your shoulder.

Your cries have quietened down by now, the final shudders and sobs passing through your body. You feel so heavy, so exhausted. No thoughts in your mind, your breathing slows. You pay no attention to the cum dripping from your pussy and ass, smearing your thighs and dripping down onto the ruined bed sheets.

“Just go to sleep,” Shigaraki mutters into your skin. You mean to reply but don’t, letting the darkness and release swallow you whole, sending you into a deep, dreamless sleep.

…⊹₊⟡⋆…

You groan, the morning light filling your vision as you flutter your eyes open. Your surroundings come into focus. Black curtains open, bright sunlight illuminating a messy desk and black coat messily heaped into a corner on the wooden floorboards. You turn over, hoping to see Touya’s sleeping frame but unfortunately, he’s already gone. You must have slept in. Wasn’t his class at 9am? You squint, making out 09:36 on the digital alarm clock on his bedside table.

You sit up and get out of Touya’s bed. Quickly making it, throwing on one of his shirts, and then walking out into the hallway. You look heavenward, silently praying that you’re able to avoid everyone. And your prayers go unanswered. You yawn as you open the bathroom door, Shigaraki cursing you with his toothbrush in his mouth. You giggle and come over to the basin, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before grabbing your toothbrush and squeezing white paste onto it. He rolls his eyes at your gesture. You wet the brush with warm water and raise it to your mouth. As you brush your teeth, your eyes naturally gravitate to the freshly healed mark on your neck.

You remember how afraid you had been that night. How painful it was. How pleasurable. But now, it brought a smile to your face seeing Touya’s initials carved into your delicate skin for eternity. Shigaraki spits, rinsing his mouth and leaving you alone in the bathroom. You’re done pretty soon, rinsing your mouth and cleaning yourself up.

As you do so, you can’t stop smiling to yourself. It’s not like this is your first time sleeping over at your beloved’s place. But, there was something so spell-binding, so soul-gripping about slow, sensual sex and hot tea afterwards, especially since you were finally ready after the last time… and since his initials were engraved on your neck now. You have to stop yourself from moaning at the thought of last night.

You leave the bathroom, heading back to Touya’s room to get changed into something more suitable before going downstairs to the kitchen.

Himiko sits at the marble island bench, watching Jin fry scrambled eggs. You greet them both, grabbing a glass of water and plopping down on the stool next to Himiko. She leans over and gives you a warm hug before drawing back.

Jin tuts, “You two shouldn’t be so loud, you know.” You bite your lower lip and laugh nervously, looking down. “You heard?”

Himiko chimes in, “Hard not to. These walls are so thin!” You can feel the blush rising in your cheeks.

You defend yourself, “We were trying to keep it down, I swear. We didn’t keep you up, right?” Jin laughs, cracking two more eggs for you. Their goo drips and crackles as soon as they hit the pan.

“We’re just teasing you, [y/n]. Actually, it wasn’t too bad this time.” To say you were embarrassed was the understatement of the year. All you can manage is a stuttered, “O-oh.”

Himiko and Jin laugh at you. You look down at the marble. They don’t give it up, teasing you until Jin places three plates of scrambled eggs and avocado toast on the bench. You thank him and dig into your meal. It tastes so good! You moan in satisfaction, earning stares from the two blonds before they laugh at you even harder. Their joy is infectious.

After you finish your breakfast, you run back up the stairs and head into Touya’s room. You grab your phone, about to text him of your embarrassment, but you already see a message from him.

mafia boss: this little runt is pissing me off

mafia boss: [image attachment]

mafia boss: get rid of him for me?

You giggle to yourself, clicking on the image. You don’t need to look for long though, the drawn circle around half red-half white hair telling you all you need to know.

[xf-cases-solved]

ayyyy, @numinousmysteries, guess who it is! it's me, your secret santa for the @poangpals gift exchange, here to gift you words that are kinda angsty, kinda hurt/comfort-y, and kinda (or more than kinda) horny. i've written a lot of cancer arc lately and was like "hmm, maybe i should branch out..." BUT, when i saw your ideal episode was "memento mori but they bang at the end," i was like, "okay, well, obviously this was meant to be." so that is what i have brought you! a post-memento mori fic where they bang at the end! thank you for everything you bring to this community. you're a baller and i hope you enjoy your gift <3 -diz Title: Memento Vivere Word count: ~6500 (bc i can't shut the fuck up to save my life) Rating: Explicit Here's the link to ao3, or save yourself a click and read below!

***

Memento Vivere

She is in the middle of grimacing at her own reflection in the small compact mirror she found at the bottom of her overnight bag when Mulder shows up at her hospital room, keys jangling in his hand as he hovers in the doorway, neither outside nor inside, like he's uncertain about what kind of proximity he's allowed this morning. Like she's a skittish cat he's trying to win over. And what grates at her isn't his tenuous disposition—it's that it's completely warranted, and it's so jarring to be known so well.

She knows that he knows that she bared her heart to him last night, and is now grappling with mortification. She's never been good with emotions. In college, she could do a walk of shame with her head held high, but when a lover would voice their affection for her she would suddenly become incapable of looking them in the eye. Her heart is in a lockbox and sometimes she goes so long without opening it she almost forgets the combination, and when she does manage to pop it open she gets frantic, wanting to immediately slam it shut.

"You about ready to go?" Mulder asks casually. Too casually. He's assessing her like he would a suspect, adjusting his tone to meet her mood and make himself more approachable, and she wants to snap at him for profiling her, but she won't. She can't. Not without confirming his analysis of her, and she doesn't need to open the spine of her book any wider when he can already read her with such clarity.

In her writings—the filled pages already torn from the notebook and shredded into pieces in the wire trash bin next to her bed—she had thought she was divulging the secrets of her heart to him. It occurs to her only now, as he watches her from across the room with a purposefully mild expression, that while he may not know her every thought, he is the only other person who knows the combination to the lockbox in her chest. He could open it at any time, but he doesn't. He could reach inside her and hold her beating heart in his cupped hands, learning every detail and committing it to memory, but he would never take from her anything that wasn't freely given. His respect is almost more overwhelming than anything, because it's a reminder that if he weren't an honorable man he could ruin her. He has access to her nuke, and she can do nothing but trust that he won't hit the button.

"Yeah, just a second," she replies—casual. 

She slips the compact mirror back inside her bag and gets to her feet. She tries to summon the woman inside her who walks down the hallways of the Hoover Building—confident, assertive, and unaffected by stares or assumptions—but it's difficult without her body armor. Even though she only had one infusion of the chemo, her body still feels frail and hungover, like the day after a bad twenty-four hour flu, and she's wearing flats with her yoga pants and sweater, highlighting the height disparity between the two of them in a way her heels usually help to mitigate. There wasn't a hair dryer to use after her shower, so the natural curls she usually irons out are taking over, absurdly making her feel disorderly and sloppy. And she's not wearing makeup, and it's not the dark circles around her eyes or even the mole above her lip that she's self-conscious about—it's the freckles that spatter across her cheeks and nose. Well put together women don't have freckles, and she's sure he's going to interpret her vulnerabilities on her sun-kissed skin like the soggy tea leaves at the bottom of a china cup. 

The worst part of dying, she's starting to think, is the discovery that her walls that felt sturdy like concrete are actually made of straw, and there's nothing like an illness to come sweeping through to blow your house down.

On the way out of the hospital they pass the room Penny died in. She looks away from the door, and Mulder looks at her. In a blink-and-you-miss-it moment he reaches over and squeezes her hand. 

They don't say anything. 

Scully thinks his choice of silence says more than words ever could.

*

When she wakes up on her couch she isn't sure if it was the nightmare that roused her, or the relentless throbbing in her head.

The ride back home from Allentown had been uncomfortable in every sense of the word. Mulder had rambled theories at her—about Dr. Scanlon and MUFON and government agendas—until her lack of engagement made the conversation eventually dissolve, first into him nervously chattering about the most ridiculous X-Files cases he could think of and, when that didn't work either, into nothing, a pall falling over them as she shifted restlessly in her seat, unable to find a position that didn't feel ill-fitting like a shirt that she couldn't untwist. They didn't once speak the word cancer.

She hadn't meant to fall asleep after he dropped her off, but ten minutes into some daytime talk show and she was suddenly dead to the world, and judging by the low light that surrounds her, she has slept all the way from early afternoon well into dusk. The TV still flickers at her, now playing the evening news, and she's sure that there aren't going to be any headlines about manufactured brain tumors and shady oncologists who betray their Hippocratic oath by purposefully poisoning women who look to them for salvation. The types of horrors she witnesses rarely make the news. Not with all the facts attached, at least.

She pushes herself up with a groan. Her head really hurts, and although her first instinct is to attribute it to the mass in her sinus cavity, when she reaches up to swipe under her nose there are no remnants of dried blood, and the dryness of her tongue and hollowness of her belly makes her think that the rhythmic throbbing in her skull is probably because she can't remember the last time she had a glass of water or a single bite of food. 

She goes about the motions of getting together what she supposes is technically dinner, even though she forgot to proceed it with breakfast or lunch, and when she gets it all together—a hearty meal of half a banana, a slice of buttered toast, three ibuprofen, and a tall glass of ice water—she settles back down on the couch and assesses the other ache she'd awoken with.

The nightmare is formless in her memory, lacking a cohesive plotline now that she's in the waking world, but nevertheless, the emotions it stirred up inside her are visceral. There is a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach, bottomless as the abyss. It's a type of fear that grips her from the inside, putting her adrenal gland into a chokehold and activating her fight or flight, except she can't fight her own mind anymore than she can flee it. 

This is how she knows, even without the details, that her dream was about dying.

These types of dreams have been coming to her more frequently nowadays, starting the night Leonard Betts spoke five chilling words to her in the back of an ambulance. She's had friends who have been pregnant, and they would often tell her about the constant dreams they would have on the subject throughout the entire nine months. In a way, she figures, it's a similar concept; she and her friends all have had dreams about what their body is growing inside them—the notable difference of course being that they grew something into life, and she's growing something that takes it away. 

Tomorrow she is going to have to start making phone calls. Make appointments and discuss treatment options and try not to get discouraged when the options are limited. When she first told Mulder about the cancer, he had been so insistent, saying, "There must be some people who receive treatment for this," and at the time she hadn't been able to bring herself to tell him that she wasn't sure she was going to be one of them. The odds were, and are, so heavily stacked against her, and as a medical doctor she is very aware that sometimes quality of life outweighs the quantity of it. Her experience in Allentown hasn't really endeared her toward the idea either, if she's being honest, and not because of Scanlon, or even because of Penny, but because she had not felt sick at all, up until she tried to treat the illness, and then suddenly she'd been in hell. 

But while she may be uncomfortable with how much of herself she bared to him last night, she knows that she made promises that she can't take back. She is loyal to a fault, and she gave both him and herself her word that she would continue to live as long as she could, and so she will. 

She's just not convinced much of her life in the upcoming days and weeks and months and maybe even years will feel much like living. In fact, she's pretty worried—down to the very depths of her subconscious, if her dreams are any indication—that she's going to feel like she's dying.

They say doctors make the worst patients. Sometimes that's because of stubbornness. Sometimes it's because they know exactly what to expect.

She finishes her meager meal and drinks down the last of her water. She slips an ice cube into her mouth and bites down on it, shattering it into pieces. The enamel of her teeth has always been sensitive to temperature, but instead of being off-put by the pain that spikes through to her jawbone when the ice touches her nerves, she revels in it. Her head, while somewhat improved, is still aching, and she finds herself appreciating that as well. She finds she is grateful for the signs her body is giving her to tell her it's still here, and maybe that's the trick. Maybe to get through this she has to go into it with a respect for the pain. This only hurts because I am alive, she'll have to train herself to think. 

She can do that. She's certainly stubborn enough. 

She wishes it didn't all have to be about pain, though. She doesn't want to forget that a body can feel good things too.

Ice crunches between her teeth, shocking her like a root canal, while she thinks about the signs of life that are enjoyable. Warmth. Comfort. Pleasure.

Pleasure.

On the TV, the news anchors are tying up their reports that are lacking things they don't even realize are missing. In her mouth her internal temperature warms the ice water, and the ebbing of the pain is a brief moment of gratification that acts as a sampling of what endorphins can do. 

Tomorrow she is going to have to make plans to put herself in a varying, yet indefinite state of pain, and she will have to learn to appreciate it in order to remember how to be alive. 

Tonight, however, she could remind herself in a different way.

It is a terrible idea.

It's an idea she has had a million times before and has stamped down just as often.

Ten minutes later and she's out her front door and getting into the driver's side of her car. Muscle memory guides her down the streets toward Alexandria, while she spends the whole drive telling herself to turn back.

She doesn't.

*

"Hey," Mulder says in surprise, eye widening slightly at the sight of her standing at his door. He's got on a white tank top and dark grey sweatpants, looking nothing like the federal agent he usually does. Instead of seeing a professional, albeit a tad bit crazy, government official, she sees her friend in the way that is much easier to ignore when he's wearing a suit and an ugly patterned tie. Like this, he exudes masculine energy, and her eyes are immediately drawn to the slopes and curves of his muscular shoulders and biceps. There is hair peeking out on his chest where the neckline of his shirt dips low. He hasn't shaved for at least a day, an even stubble shadowing his cheeks and jaw. She drops her gaze to the floor before he can catch her roaming eyes, and she sees his feet are bare. For some reason that's the most intimate part of it all, and the reality of what she's come here to do hits her like a freight train and she flushes with what must be a particularly spectacular shade of red.

In contrast, she's feeling a lot like she did this morning, like a soldier out of uniform. She's wearing the same pair of yoga pants, and under her coat she has on a faded souvenir t-shirt her parents gave her after an anniversary trip to the Outer Banks well over five years ago. It occurs to her only now that she'd left in such a rush that she hadn't even bothered with a bra, and she becomes instantly aware of the oversized shirt brushing directly against her breasts.

At least she wore boots with a heel this time, but in reality it's not doing much to level the playing field. Mulder's six-foot frame still dwarfs her completely, and while she normally feels like a peer in his presence—like a respected intellectual whose gender is totally irrelevant—tonight she is feeling a lot like she did the first time she entered a university science lecture and found herself surrounded almost entirely by men. The difference is that back then she had felt, ridiculously, embarrassed by her femininity, hyper-aware of every questioning stare, asking the same question: What is she doing here?

But like with most things, Mulder—simply by virtue of being Mulder—challenges her way of thinking. While she has long since stopped viewing her womanhood as a flaw, she is always viscerally aware when the people around her view it as one, and over time that has bred resentment. Standing here before him, though, she holds no animosity toward the difference in their sexes. Like the way her science complements his reckless belief, so too, in this moment, does her feminine ying balance his masculine yang. 

She doesn't even worry about the freckles on her makeupless face. 

"Scully?" He sounds concerned, and she realizes she's been standing here in silence after appearing at his apartment unannounced, and the last time they saw each other it had ended with her muttering a curt goodbye as she all but bolted from his car to escape the suffocation of her own self-imposed belief that emotional vulnerability was akin to disgrace.

But what Mulder isn't privy to yet is that the shame from this morning about being so transparent has been wholly replaced by the need of a dying woman to be reminded of the good parts of being alive. Scully is ready to be bare, by every definition, and she can only hope that he'll let her. 

Refusing to give in to cowardice, she forces herself to look up from the floor to meet his eye. 

"Can I come in?" she asks.

"Yeah, of course." He angles himself to place a hand on the small of her back, ushering her inside, and even through her coat and shirt the contact burns like the ice touching her enamel. She kicks off her boots, sinking back down to her natural five foot two—three, if the height gauge at the doctor's office chooses to be generous—and lets him take her coat and hang it up, before leading them both over to the couch. He plops down, leaving a purposeful vacancy beside him, and looks up at her expectantly, but she doesn't sit. Cocking his head, he asks, "Are you all right? Why are you here? If you needed something you know you could have called me and I would have come to you. I know you only went through one day of treatment, but I'm sure it had to have taken a toll on your—"

"I'm fine," she insists, cutting him off. She doesn't say it harshly, but she doesn't leave room for him to argue against it either, even though she can tell he desperately wants to. Instead, he chooses to heed her command, and presses his lips closed, waiting for her to tell him why she's standing here when earlier today they drove over three hours and she had barely said a word the entire time.

It's possible she didn't think this far ahead. More than that—it's possible she hasn't thought this through at all. 

But she's committed now, and she's starting to feel feral, her needs centered around primitive instincts. It is in every species' nature to fight for survival at any cost, but she is burdened with a human's intellect that can allow her to deny herself continued survival if doing so also means prolonged suffering. If she is to keep her promise—if she is to fight for her life with treatments that make her feel sicker than the disease they're targeting—then she has to go into it with a memory that reminds her why it's worth it to stay alive.

She walks over to his desk and leans against it, mindlessly thumbing through documents strewn carelessly across the top. There are pieces from casefiles, and pages photocopied from obscure books on phenomena she'd never believe. There are scratch pieces of paper with notes scribbled on them, written in a shorthand that she's sure only makes sense to him. There are newspaper clippings and articles torn from tabloid magazines he would call source material, and she would call a scam. She doesn't read any of it, but she keeps her eyes trained on them as she considers her next steps.

Gaze pinned on a faded picture of some kind of creature that has clearly come off a printer that was running low on ink, she finally says, "I want to ask you for a favor, but I should warn you that it's a bit unorthodox."

"Unorthodox, huh? I dunno, Scully, I'm a pretty conventional guy, I'm not sure I can handle anything out of the ordinary."

A smile tugs at the corner of her lips. How does he do that? she wonders. How does he know how to calm her when he doesn't even know that she's feeling frantic in the first place? 

That you should know my heart, look into it, finding there the memory and experience that belong to you. That are you. 

Those were words she had written only days before, placed inside a journal that was meant to be a confessional, but again, she should have known better. What use is there in inviting someone into your heart when they're already there?

She stops fiddling with the contents of his desk and looks over at him. He's regarding her with an expression of concern that on a different day she would construe as pity and detest, but right now she has the capacity to accept that he's looking at her like that, not because she's weak, but because he cares. Because he's worried. Because he wants her to live.

"Last night, when you said you read some of what I wrote... how much did you read exactly?"

Mulder rubs the nape of his neck and shrugs.

"A bit," he says, which she takes to mean "all of it." She can picture him, after confirming she was safe, sneaking into her hospital room and sitting on her bed, skimming each page, and then going back through a second time to take it in more fully. It should feel like an invasion of privacy, but instead her impulse is to huff a small laugh. She tries so hard to hide from him, and yet he finds her every time.

"So you know about the treatment. What it feels like." He nods slowly, like he's trying to piece together what she's getting at and hasn't quite formed a cohesive picture yet. She sighs.

"Tomorrow I'm going to set up a meeting with Skinner and take him up on his offer in getting into contact with an oncologist. We can still pursue the case—that is, if any new evidence presents itself to give us any new leads—but in the meantime, I need to figure out what treatment options are available to me. Time is of the essence in these sorts of situations." 

Mulder nods again, still waiting for the clarifying piece of the puzzle.

"Mulder, without talking it over with a specialist, I can't know for certain what treatment route they're going to have me take, but with my medical background I can make an educated enough guess to safely say that, whatever it is, it's not going to be pleasant."

"Any help you need, Scully, you know I'm just a phone call away. And don't worry about work. If you have to take leave that's fine. What matters most is that you get yourself health—"

"I know. I know that, but that's not what I came here to talk to you about."

"... Okay." He gives a small shake of his head. "What then? What's the favor?"

Scully draws her lower lip between her teeth. 

"I need your help," she says slowly, "in reminding myself that my body can do more than feel pain. That it's more than just a vessel to get me from one place to another... I need you to help me remember why it's worth saving."

"I don't..." he starts, but his sentence trails off as she makes her approach over to him with a purposeful gait. She goes to stand between his legs and he opens them wider to give her space like the action is automatic. He tilts his head back to look dumbly up at her, and the change in dynamic—her above and him below—makes her feel some type of way low in her belly. 

She reaches out and cups his face, tracing the line of his cheekbone with her thumb, and she sees his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. She thinks the picture may be becoming clear to him now.

"Scully—"

"You can tell me to leave," she cuts him off. "You can say no and I won't hold it against you. We don't ever have to talk about it again. But if you're willing..."

Mulder gives a breathy, disbelieving laugh.

"Scully, trust me, it's not a matter of whether or not I'm willing, but look at what all you've been through in the past couple days. I don't think you're thinking rationally, and I don't want to take advantage—"

"Not thinking rationally? Me?" She smiles a little as she pulls her hand back, making a point to drag her fingers slowly across his skin on the way, and she doesn't think she imagines him leaning into her touch. "Mulder, I appreciate your concern, but why don't you let me decide what I do and don't want to do."

"Scully..."

"Do you trust me?"

He lets out a frustrated sigh.

"Of course I do."

She takes hold of both of his wrists, and when she tugs his arms out to settle his hands on her hips she's met with slight resistance, but she knows it's just for show. She's not weak, but he's got plenty of strength to get away from her if he really wanted to. Instead, the pads of his fingers press into her pelvic bone, even after she's dropped her hold on his wrists.

"Then trust me when I say this is what I need from you," she says. She smirks and adds, "I told you it was unorthodox." 

"You weren't kidding," he mutters, and fuck, his eyes are boring into hers so intensely she nearly shudders. 

Sweatpants are not exactly ideal when it comes to maintaining modesty in sensitive situations, and Scully's effect on him does not go unnoticed. Her eyes dart down to the significant bulge between his thighs, and then back up to his face where he gives a bashful half-grin accompanied with a one-shouldered shrug, as if to say "can you blame me?"

"I won't hold it against you," she tells him again, "but I do want this."

"Fuck," Mulder breathes. He shuts his eyes for a beat, like he's trying to compose himself, and then blinks them back open, embers of an impending fire starting to glow behind his dilating pupils. "This is a bad idea," he tells her, stating it more like a fact than as a deterrent. 

"Maybe," she agrees.

"We have to work together tomorrow. And the day after that. And after that one, too. You don't think this will... change things?"

"Not if we don't let it." 

"You really think it's that simple?"

She considers the question. Considers whether or not she can learn what it's like to have him explore her body tonight, and then pretend like she didn't come morning.

"We're two consenting adults," she says, evading the question. "Has the thought of doing this really never crossed your mind?"

"That... That feels like a leading question."

"Would it make you feel better if I said that it has definitely crossed mine?"

"Jesus, Scully," he breathes, shifting in his seat and clutching her hips so tight that she won't be surprised if later she finds finger-shaped bruises on her skin, reminiscent of dusted prints at a crime scene.

"It's just sex, Mulder," but even as she says it, she knows it's a lie.

He knows it too, judging by the muscle twitching in his clenched jaw as he holds her eyes with a steady look.

"Is it?" he asks evenly, and they both know the answer is no.

No. Of course not. Sex could never be "just" anything between them, but the reason why is a topic they've come to an unspoken agreement to never acknowledge aloud. But Scully isn't stupid. She knows that the way electricity behaves between them—constantly thrumming and sparking, in tense situations as well as banal—isn't normal. Four years ago she dropped her robe in front of him in a candle lit hotel room, and she hasn't stopped feeling his gaze on her lower back since; the tender way his eyes roved over her delusive mosquito bites is as permanent a tattoo as the blood red ouroboros that has only recently lost its scabs.

The term "something more" is a vague and fanciful concept she would sooner dismiss as nothing but a perpetuation of commercialized romance, if she herself wasn't subjected to it on a near daily basis. Since day number one there has been an elusive "something more" surrounding them, fighting for their attention, even as they so ardently deny its existence.

So no, it isn't just sex, but Scully also didn't come here to give voice to the elephant that follows them from room to room. To put it plainly, she came here so he could fuck the will to live back into her body, and she refuses to lose sight of her mission.

So in lieu of a response—because she can't animate any elephants, but neither can she lie to a man who treats truth like the core tenet to his religion—she instead throws caution to the wind, swoops in, and kisses him. 

Ice touches enamel. She wants it to burn.

Whatever reservations or protests he may have been fighting against must not be too hard to cast aside, because his response to her is instant, tilting his head to slot their lips together and kissing back so forcefully their teeth clack together. But even that doesn't, or maybe can't slow them down.

Mulder's hands move from her hips to her ass, and in a single swift movement he lifts her onto his lap. He swallows her surprised gasp as she straddles his thighs, his hard cock brushing her center, the layers of their clothing teasing her relentlessly when right now she needs skin-on-skin more than she needs air.

Mulder seems to be of the same mind, because one second she's sitting astride him fully clothed, and in the next he has somehow stripped her of her shirt, tossing it carelessly onto the floor. Returning the favor, she peels his off too, feeling like a kid at Christmas unwrapping the box she knows contains the best present under the tree.

Scully tries to recapture his lips, but he stills her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. He then leans back to get a good, long look at her.

"God, Scully," he whispers reverently, eyes trained on her chest. He reaches out to touch her, and when he does her breasts fit perfectly in his hands. Tentatively, and with such profound focus you'd think he was attempting to split an atom, he pinches her left nipple and rolls it experimentally between his index finger and thumb. It's such a simple touch, but it goes straight to her leaking cunt, and when she moans Mulder's attention darts back up to her face, the embers behind his eyes now a full-fledged forest fire, blazing a warpath through the trees. He makes it a point not to break her gaze when he leans in and takes the same nipple into his mouth.

"Mmm," she hums, letting her head loll back. He sucks the nub of her nipple taut, and involuntarily she bucks her hips in response. 

Mulder mumbles something incoherent against her breast, and when she asks for clarification, he pulls away with an obscene pop and then nuzzles his face in the crook of her neck, saying, "You're everything."

Everything. Like he ran through the full gamut of adjectives and found himself wanting. Like she is so many things at once that there isn't a single word that encompasses the breadth of her worth to him. 

You're everything.

It's the most overwhelming compliment she has ever received, because she wants, more than anything, to live up to it, and yet she's not even sure if she is going to be able to simply live, period. She's not sure when her greatest fear became failing him. It might have been the first time he ever challenged her. When she stood in front of his projector, veiled by the illuminated slides he'd already prepared for her arrival, as he quizzed her on chemistry, and causes of death, and the supposed limits of science in a vast and complex universe. She had wanted to prove herself to him then, and then just never stopped. 

The truth of his influence over her is too much to handle right now, so she decides to kiss him again—an act that is quickly becoming her new favorite strategy for deflection—and then buries her fingers in his hair. She oscillates her hips in slow circles, taunting them both with light but consistent pressure on his cock. She feels him twitch in anticipation for her, and her pulse throbs in her cunt in turn.

"I want you," she whispers against his lips, but he shakes his head.

"No," he murmurs. "No, not yet."

Before she can ask him for clarification, he's lifting her up with a firm grip on the backs of her thighs, and then proceeds to lay her down lengthwise on the couch.

There's a manic energy wafting off of him in waves, and yet, in total contrast, the way he slides her leggings and panties down and off her legs is so purposeful and leisurely that she has the absurd thought that nobody has ever undressed her with such respect before.

When he kisses her soundly on the mouth and then begins making a trek down her body with his lips and tongue and an occasional nip of his teeth, she feels—for the first time since she stepped foot inside his apartment with this ludacris idea—a pang of apprehension.

For the most part, she isn't a self-conscious person. Once she got past the awkwardness of adolescence, she's had a fairly healthy relationship with her self-image. But that said, Mulder's intended destination is obvious, and she's had enough sexual partners turn their nose up at the suggestion that for a moment she worries he's only doing it because he thinks she expects it of him.

But then he settles himself in between her thighs and peers up at her with a hunger better fit for a man so far into starvation he's about to succumb to it, and she realizes then that while he may be able to read all the words on her every page, it is not a one-sided transparency. If ever there were to be a scholar on the topic of Fox William Mulder, she would be the one.

The apprehension, already fleeting in the first place, dissipates entirely, and she lets her legs fall open in invitation.

There is no hesitancy in his acceptance. He uses two fingers to part her labia, and then starts off by dragging the flat of his tongue from her soaking entrance up to her swollen clit in one long stroke, and that alone has her crying out, unconcerned about how she sounds or how thin the walls might be. 

Never a man to miss important details, it's unsurprising the speed at which he masters the intricacies of her body. She knows he's paying attention to every miniscule shift in her body language by the way he adjusts the pressure and speed and direction of his mouth and tongue. When he slips one finger inside her, quickly following it up with a second, and pulses a come hither motion as he sucks on her aching clit she wants to sob. He eats cunt with the devotion of a holy man, and he makes her feel deserving of being worshipped.

This is why it's worth it to live. Because for every twinge and ache and pain her body is capable of, it is equally capable of so much good feeling that it could constitute a religious experience. That while there are always going to be moments of suffering, there are also going to be moments of pleasure, and to truly live you have to accept the full spectrum of what it means to possess a human body.

When the coiling heat in her cunt finally boils over, and she arches her back and cries out Mulder's name while a rapturous climax works through her, suspending time and space, she thinks to herself, over and over like a mantra—like a promise: This is what I'm fighting for. This is what I'm fighting for. This. Is what. I am fighting for.

When she comes back to herself enough to spring into action, she is barely conscious of her own movements, acting more on primal instinct as she yanks Mulder up and kisses him sloppily, licking into his mouth and tasting herself on his tongue as she manages to flip them so that he's lying on his back, panting up at her with blown pupils and parted lips. 

She gets his sweatpants and boxers pulled down past his knees, and he kicks them the rest of the way off. He curses when she takes hold of him and guides him to her entrance, unable to wait to be filled by him any longer. 

He's so big, and even with the slickness from her orgasm she has to take him in slowly, letting her cunt adjust to the stretch of him. 

"There's so much of you," she groans, rocking her hips, slipping him in further inch by inch. He's holding onto her hips again, gripping her like she's a life preserver as he clenches his jaw, clearly trying his utmost not to thrust into her before she's ready for it.

"You feel... Jesus, Scully, there aren't words to describe how you feel," he says, strained between gritted teeth, and she's so thankful for him. For his patience. For his attention. For the "something more" between them that she doesn't dare give a name to, even in the privacy of her own mind.

When she finally takes him to the hilt, it feels like an accomplishment. Skewered between her legs on his massive cock, she has the same sense of satisfaction she gets when she pins him into a corner during a debate. Already he has infiltrated almost every aspect of her life, and now he's inside her body as well, and she understands what he meant before, because it's everything. He's everything.

She tells him so, and that's more than he can handle. After the words spill from her lips, he thrusts up into her, making her shout, but on the next thrust she meets him in a counter-rhythm, driving him impossibly deeper inside her. The apartment is full of the sounds and smells of sex as she begins to ride him in earnest. She plays with her own tits, and he watches her, rapt with attention, and when his breathing starts to hollow, he puts a hand between her legs and lets her rub her clit against him.

"Yes," she moans, riding him harder, shocked that he has her teetering on the edge again so soon. "God, yes. Mulder, I—I'm going to—" 

She completes her sentence nonverbally, falling over the edge once more, and this time Mulder follows her. He's chanting nonsense syllables that are probably supposed to be her name, as she clenches around him and milks his cock dry, letting him fill her fully and completely. She wants to feel his spend leaking out of her later. She wants to feel bruised when she walks. She wants to remember every last second of tonight—even if they never speak of it again—because she is going to need the memories in order to face what's waiting for her come tomorrow.

When they've both returned to Earth, they stay joined together in silence for just a little longer, searching each other's faces, possibly for signs of regret, or maybe just for the sake of looking. He pushes a strand of her hair behind her ear and she lets her eyes flutter shut, leaning into the touch. Between her legs he's starting to soften. Her unorthodox favor has been fulfilled, and reality is hurtling back to them at speed.

"Thank you," she says, not opening her eyes. 

He doesn't respond for a few beats, and then he says, "It's worth it, Scully. Remember it's worth it." 

She nods. 

It's so easy, she thinks, to be aware of her own mortality. To remember that she will die.

She vows now that, in the face of every upcoming obstacle, she will remind herself, often, that she can also live.

[instantartific]

So if any'a y'all were ever curious about just how far I am into shipping, I was sad this morning and cheered up instantly because I got reminded of my two favorite middle aged men.

[kirisclangen]

Larchpaw

She/her, 8 moons, cis molly

[sydmarch]

no interest in any of my hobbies next to no concerts going on all summer feeling abandoned by the majority of the few irls I still have no idea where to meet new people to replace them now that I'm not part of the highly social hard partying sales culture I spent basically all of my post college life in anymore literally what reason is there to keep trying

[screampied]

‘ V!RGIN KILLA! 𝜗𝜚

𓉸ྀི sum. not only does he think he knows what he’s doing, he’s also a virgin. but there’s a first time for everything . . . right? choso, nanami, gojo, geto, ino, toji.

warnings. fem! reader, vīrgin men, unprotected, vīrginity loss, whiny needy men, some college themes, fratboy! toji, pússydrunk men, cōckwarming, cérvix kissin', cunnīlingus, dry humping, finishing quick, spıt, squīrting, bréeding, petnames, sukuna's part didn't save but i'll make it up </3

★ NANAMI KENTO aka the quick learner virgin?!

nanami drools the minute his tip disappears inside of your cunt. he can’t help it - at all.

the balmy warmth you provide him while you’re straddling his waist, basically cockwarming him sends him shivers. “god, ‘s good,” he groans, tugging at the bottom edge of his spot-patterned tie. nanami could feel the raised pointed tips of his ears burning as his eyes slowly flicker down toward your sopping wet pussy. oh, how it’s just profusely leaking with so much strings of your pretty slick. messily, it glosses a shine between your legs, gleaming with thick molasses—almost similar to a stream, and yet this stream was instead flowing down between your legs. “mmh.. ride me, s- show me how to feel good, my love.”

“hey. eyes on me, ‘ken,” you whisper, your fragile breaths growing shallow the moment he’s tightly snug balls deep in. with a ringing loud ‘pop!’ you feel him greedily ease his way past the slight loose ring of your entrance and you moan. he’s in so deep, and you can’t help but shimmy your hips against his lap. nanami told you how he had little to no experience—and yet, he wanted to try this out with you. having you ride him until he couldn’t think straight. whenever you ran your hands down his carved tone body, a roaring fire would ignite within him. your touch alone sent him chills and he only craved it more. tender fawn-colored eyes that almost resemble honey meet your gaze, and he leans into your touch the moment you cup your hands on his cheeks. slowly, you’re lustfully swaying against his lap back and forth and he groans. “that’s it, you’re doin’ good, kento. hold my hips.”

“like . . this?” he hoarsely asks, and hefty hands suddenly cling onto your waist. you moan, nodding as he gently holds them in place, trying to guide your movements. his cock stretched you out in each ‘n every way, curiously exploring through the gummy walls of every slick orifice. nanami’s starting to sweat already—and you smile, watching as he sneaks a fat thumb down between your pried open legs. “mngh. . you’re soakin’ all on me. is that normal?” he breathes, and you can see a bit of drool starting to seep down the cracked corners of his lips.

soaking, he could hear the sloppy sounds of your cunt slamming back against his tense thighs and it makes him throb. in zealous sync, you end up throbbing too, and he feels said throb right against the the narrow tip of his cock. “ah, y- yeah, ‘s normal, kento,” you inhale sharply, wrapping your arms around him. callused fingertips his drag a straight line down your skin as he starts to rock you faster into his needy pelvis.

the stretch makes you whimper - his dick’s so fat, and your pussy swallows all numerous inches every time. over ‘n over, your ass violently hits back against his lap as you continue to ride him, amorously tossing your swerving hips in a circle. you could see the blond’s eyes starting to grow hooded, and he’s never looked so in love. your cunt had him hungry for more. “like that, baby?”

“mhm, i like a-anything you do to me, sweetheart,” nanami hoarsely coos, pulling up the back of your hand for a loving kiss. you’re riding him well—watching as he slowly cocks his head back, exposing the oval-shaped adam’s apple in his throat. it’s a simple yet sexy detail that makes you pulsate nevertheless, and nanami groans. “f- fuck, i need you. i need more, ‘m not gonna last, honey if you hah.. keep ridin’ me like that.”

and within a few hasty strokes, nanami starts to get the hang of your rhythm. by the hang, he’s starting to fuck you against his cock now. vast, open hands of his cling onto your waist tight before he’s occasionally spanking your ass. “ngh, good girl. that’s my girl, ugh,” and as you’re whining, nanami pulls you into his neck. the pearly silver band of his flashy watch tickles down your back as he grabs at a nice chunk of your ass, spanking it. “r- ride it like it’s yours, sweetheart. ride it like i’m yours.”

he’s whispering filthy nothing in your ears—trying to drown out your cute sobbing whimpers and your even louder pussy. nanami’s cock was deranged - it was reaching through every sensitive spot of yours, wasting no time to introduce itself near the gummy ridges.

“fuck, fuck!” you’d squeal out, gasping once the swollen head of his cock tickles its way near your hidden g-spot. oh, that spot. you couldn’t help but get sheepish, a cock drunk smile twisting against your lips. he’s so snug, rearranging your insides while continuing to spank your ass. it’s almost as if he knew what he was doing, and nanami knew how to tame your aching cunt with just a few sloppy strokes. “ken, ‘m close. fuckin’ close.”

“i know, i know. give it t’ me,” he whispers, his voice pitching deeper ‘n deeper after each sloppy thrust. nanami’s pumping you full, swallowing thickly to ease the inside of his mouth that’s parched, akin to the sahara. nanami groans, gingerly making you slam your hips against him harder. “fuck, work those hips sweetheart. show me how messy my pretty girl can be, h- huh?”

you’re whimpering constantly, sounding like nothing more than a broken record as you’re gradually being led to your release. it’s a candied sweet taste in your mouth that never goes away, and once you finally came—you were hysterical.

nanami huffs heavily, holding you tight as your hips come to a sudden devastating stop. he’s still buried thick inches deep before he groans, caressing a palm against your tender rear. “hah, that’s m- my girl,” he coos, feeling you drench a portion of his cock with your slimy slick. it’s warm, and you’re still whining incoherent blurbs as you bury your face into his neck. “whew, we’ll have ‘ta try that again,” and once he plants a wet kiss near your temple, he strokes your chin with a thumb. “but another position though. if that’s alright.”

“w- what position?” you tiredly pant, bringing a hand toward your sticky-coated back.

nanami gives your ass its final playful spank before whispering lowly against your lips. “ever heard of doggy, my love?”

#GETO SUGURU aka the nasty virgin?!

geto’s a filthy nasty virgin, unashamed. insisting how he’s never experienced something like this before, smugly stating how he ‘did his research.’

“lie back, sweetheart,” geto huffed, flipping you right back over on your back. he’d just got done with fucking you round after round for the first time, and it seemed like the word ‘stamina’ didn’t exist in his vocabulary. one second inside and he already wanted more—he was greedy, and it was never enough. as you’re struggling to catch your breath that drags out of your full puffed lungs, you stare up at geto. right away, his dark eyes dart between your legs and the dripping dewy mess that streams between your puffed cunt. “what a pretty sight, look at thaaaat,” and geto inches his face between your thighs, staring at frosty-white wads of cum that pour straight out of your full swollen folds.

so much. . you were practically overflowing with ribbons of sticky hot cum ‘n many more strings of it before he sticks out his tongue. “hah, least i can do is clean my girl, hm?” and you whimper, feeling him spread your legs apart with two hands. “kinda saw this in a video once.”

“s- sugu!” you gasp, your words leisurely turning into moans the second he dives straight into your pussy - nose first.

right as the tip of his tongue creates a frenzied slurping trail that soaks straight your cunt, he gives you the most feral look. his pretty black lashes briefly flap shut as he’s devouring you wholly, jerking his head from side to side. choked, gargled moans continue to steal out from your strained vocal cords as a hand of yours fishes through his matted tresses. “fuck, f- fuck like that, clean it up, baby.”

“mhm,” he smears his entire chin against your cunt, feeling it get doused with your sweet slick almost right away. he’s nasty, lapping up his bittersweet cum that spills out from between your folds like it’s nothing. geto barely even bats an eye, and that’s when he groans the second you feel a bit of weight dip against the mattress. he’s now humping against the edge of the bed, rocking his slim hips over ‘n over. “goddamn, ‘m so horny still, sweetheart. ‘y have no idea,” he whimpers shakily, and he grumbles under his breath, shaking his head as a few thin strands of hair gets in the way of his view. “h- hey, be a doll ‘n tie my hair back for me, yeah?”

as you’re chasing your quick-steady breaths, you grab his ponytail holder from his wrist, neatly putting his raven locks into a messy bun. “good girl, take such good care of m—mmph.”

geto lowly chuckles against your pussy once you give him a soft push that makes his nose brush up against your clit. your folds were so cute ‘n runny, filthily oozing with velvety remnants of his warm, pasty cum. “mhh, suguru,” you’d whine, feeling your back continuously arch against the stained white sheets. geto’s got a few loose strands that continue to run down his face, past his brows—making him appear to be even more handsome whilst between your legs. each thoroughly slurp gets louder, and that’s when he starts to loll his tongue out inside of you.

one thing about suguru geto was that he had a long fuckin’ tongue..

it extends fully, and you give his hair a rough tug once the tip of his tongue playfully slithers its way near your twitching sensitive nub. at that moment, you feel a rapid chill race through you and you let off the most shrilling whimper. “ah! suguru, fuck, ‘m sensitive there, don’t s- stop,” and as you’re babbling from his lengthy tongue, he starts to purse his lips. they curl up, puckering fully before he’s drinking everything out of you.

it’s a long carnal suck that makes your eyes cross and you feel like your life’s flashing before your eyes. splotches of white were all that clouded your vision as your thighs shake—nearly suffocating him with your plush, warm legs. “o- oh, fuck,” you’d mewl, and you knew that incoming pressure from anywhere.

you were close.

geto grunts, savoring your taste entirely. you’re just so sweet that your flavor melts on his tongue and he’s teasingly thrusting his tongue in and out of your sobbing folds. seconds later, that’s when you shriek. “c’monnn, give it to me,” and he even brings a hand between your thighs, spanking your precious cunt. “make a mess on my tongue, wanna see what it’s like,” he groans, his rocking against the edge of the bed intensifying. geto’s famished for more, and his bare cock twitches against the rocky mattress frame as you’re squirming on his tongue. by now, he’s licked you clean, and in return, he’s left with a locked jaw and glimmering wet chin. geto eyes you intently, giving your pussy its final sloppy spank before whispering against your folds. “let go for me, baby.”

as if on cue, you gush out loudly, feeling every muscle within you snap ‘n stretch outward. it was as if a crushing weight was lifted from your shoulders—but in this case, your shoulders were your tummy. “fuuuck!” you whimper out, squeezing your eyes shut as your legs give out.

geto’s mouth was still glued to your sticky slippery cunt as his tongue’s slowed its licks down. you tasted even sweeter, and he’s slurping you right up - softly moaning against your cunt as he reaches to touch himself. geto’s tongue’s constant movements scratch such an itch in your brain, making you let off a cute gasp. “ughh, s- suguru,” you whimper, feeling your thighs still shiver.

your tummy heaves in and out repeatedly, and you glance down at geto who’s got the sleaziest grin. “t- thought you said you didn’t know what you were . . hah, doing.”

“oh, baby i don’t,” geto rasps, sitting up from between your legs. he closes the distance between you both, pressing a steamy hot kiss against your quivering plump lips. you moan, getting a brief taste of yourself on his hot tongue before he playfully bites near your bottom lip. “my research helped me a lot,” and you moan the second you feel him give your sloppy cunt a big squeeze with his palm. “but . . i didn’t know my girl was a squirter. think we’ll have to do that again,” geto licks underneath your chin. “y’know, for research purposes.”

#GOJO SATORU aka the loser virgin?!

“yeah, yeah,” satoru would stubbornly grumble, cutting you off mid-sentence and rolling his eyes. his leaky tip remains idle, aligning itself against your soddened entrance before he puffs. phew, you were so pretty up close—especially down there. satoru couldn’t help but stare, openly admiring just how slick ‘n soaked you were.

just weeping from both off folds, the entirety of your entrance being coated in nothing but perspiring wetness. satoru swears on his life he knows what he’s doing, but the second the globed head of his cock smears a line down the wet slope of your cunt - he folds.

with a shaky, needy breath, he whines. “god, why are you so fuckin’ wet, baby. ‘s this supposed to happen?”

“yes, ‘toru,” you reassure him, sprawling your legs out a bit more. satoru’s panting, watching as you bring two sets of fingers toward your pretty pussy. with a slightly wide ‘v’ shape, you’re spreading yourself apart and he’s gawking straight between your legs. fuck, you were so soaked that you were starting to drip near the inner crevices of your thighs. you were playing with yourself earlier before he told you how he wanted to try going inside for the first time. but now that he’s up close—satoru can’t help but be a bit flustered. “c’mere, don’t be shy,” and you nearly moan, trailing the print of your thumb down your syrupy-coated slit. “she doesn’t bite.”

satoru scoffs, but he inches closer. so wet, his cock that was being fisted in the palm of his hand was throbbing hard. pulse after fucking pulse, a lightning-shaped vein races down the center of his hand before he groans at how hard you’re making him. “ngh, baby,” and he nearly loses it the second he struggles to align himself. he feels so hot, fuzzy cotton stuffing in his ears once his tip slowly rubs itself in between your drooling flaps. satoru snaps out of it, clearing his throat before puffing out his chest in an attempt to maintain his known ego. “heh- i mean uh- let’s show ya how ‘the strongest’ fucks.”

and apparently, ‘the strongest’ didn’t really know what he was doing after all.

because he’s barely halfway in when he’s cumming - heavily.

emphasis on barely, and satoru lets out a sweet needy whine the second he’s shooting thin milky ropes into you. thick, stringy ribbons of cum envelope inside your pussy with warmth right away. “f- fuck, dammit,” he’d grunt, burying his face into the crook of your neck. satoru’s beefy body presses right up against yours, and he’s shivering at the feeling. it’s unlike any feeling he’s ever felt, and you giggle the second you hear him loudly sigh. “ugh, that wasn’t supposed ‘ta happen.”

“thought you knew what you were doin’, baby,” you cheekily reply, a few beads of sweat racing down the left side of your forehead. satoru sits up, leaning into your ginger embraces—your palm cupping his temple. he’s pouting, an unsatisfied pout extending across each side of his lips.

“i- i doo,” he whines, feeling his thighs starting to heat up near the undersides. satoru clenches his teeth, groaning once you gradually wrap your legs around his slim waist. he’s hot, and you’ve got him wrapped around your pretty ‘lil finger.

wide, crystal blue eyes meet your gaze before satoru exhales into your neck. “mnh, let me try again, baby,” and right as you rub your ankle down his tense back muscles, he gruffs. snowy flapping lashes of his shut tight before he wraps a hand around his lanky cock. “pleasee, c’mon baby. lemme prove myself. i’ll get it this time for real.”

a smile marinates its way against your features as you hum, rubbing a thumb down his sensitive undercut. for a second, you could have sworn you heard satoru purr as he leaned into your touch. you almost forgot how much of a tender spot that was for him. cute.

“okay, go ‘head,” and both of your thighs were practically sticking together. such amounts of his seed glue against your thighs—almost like it was some kind of clingy adhesive. satoru pulls out for a moment, eager to get a look at the sloppy mess and oh.. it was a lot - he came a lot, and satoru couldn’t help but stare at the luminous streams of cum that teared down your polished cunt.

it’s sloppy. satoru’s eyes widen once he feels his tip glide its way against your cervix. right near your g-spot - it’s fuckin’ bumpy, and he feels your legs eagerly twitch the minute his dick slides its way near a spongy area. you’re moaning, laid back before satoru starts to whine.

he can’t help but whimper, softly smacking his swollen tip on your entrance. satoru had no idea what to do next, but he just wanted to play with your pretty pussy some more. the loud echoey smacks from his dick onto your folds make his ears ring…pap after pap and he’s pronounced feral. but that’s right when you hear him sniffle, literally getting lost in your pussy the second he feels your cute pulse on his round, mushroomy tip.

as you wrap your arms around him, hearing him whine once you rub a thumb down his undercut, feeling him awkwardly trying to align himself again with a bashful needy grin.

“toru, are you cryin’?”

#CHOSO KAMO aka the virgin who barely lasts?!

“o- oh, fuckk,” he’d whine, twinkling eyes widening the second he’s watching your tummy cave in from behind. you’re so pretty like this, bent over, sprawled all out on all fours. choso’s stiffly still at first, and he’s very awkward with his hands. bulged, umber-colored eyes bore into your backside, gazing at your skin. stunning, choso grunts as he pistons his hips, glancing at the sunlight that radiates off a shiny part of your spine.

in choso’s eyes, you’re breathing pretty - art, and with the way your skin glimmers in the sun, you looked like a rare painting. “baby, you’re so warm inside.”

“mhm, don’t stop ‘cho,” you moan in response, feeling your loose jaw start to droop allll the way down. you nibble near the inside of your gummy cheek, gasping at just how big he is. his cock was huge, and it didn’t take him long at all to fit nice ‘n snug. its a semi-tight fit that makes your mouth start to water from the inside and you whine. “fuuck, ‘s okay, choso,” and he feels you wriggling your ass against him. choso’s eyes dart towards your bouncy rear and he huffs. “spank it.”

a shuddering breath leaves from choso’s pink parted lips before he lowly rasps. “yeah?” and you felt yourself throb, feeling him press himself all up against you. now, choso’s gently hovering his weight over your back whilst he’s still presenting you with passionate deep strokes. slowly but surely—he’s getting the hang of it, rummaging through your fleshy clingy insides with each punctuating hit. choso’s gruff heavy breaths fan down your neck before he moans, creeping a hand toward your ass. “i can spank you, baby?”

“mmh,” you whimper in response, hearing the salaciously wanton squelches of your cunt help out louder. saying that you were wet was a mere understatement, you were pouring all down his dick with your slick. choso could feel the wetted mess trail between your legs, coating the front of his thighs entirely with your viscid sap. he’s heard about intimacy but it was an entirely different thing to experience it firsthand. “spank me, choso. ‘s okay, you can be a ‘lil rough.”

“ ‘kay,” he huffs, and you let off a soft squeal the second his palm sharply swats against your ass. oh, he liked that. the way your rear recoiled, pretty skin bouncing quickly for a few seconds—all from a small whacking hit. the brief sting made your cunt pulse sporadically as he was still drilling into you. pump after pump, choso turns pussy drunk within seconds. “hah, you’re so fuckin’ hot,” he whines, tracing a hand down the pretty curvature of your ass. his fingers dance down every juncture, and it’s almost heart-shaped. “baby, you’re makin’ me feel so—fuck.”

choso gets cut off from his words the moment he feels his dick throb between your soddened cunt. you’re wringing him dry, all while your head is cutely smushed up against your pillow. choso’s speed quickly starts to get relentless, and after a while, he’s starting to understand the human body just a bit more. “ah, choso. fuck me, fuck!” you’d whimper, a curling sensation arising within your toes right as he slams his way into your cervix.

it’s a direct hit, a k.o. as some would might say—and it’s almost as if you’ve got stars ‘n imaginary birds flying over your head like a cartoon because choso’s dick had you stupid.

“somethin’s c- comin’,” he moans, slightly lifting your leg to get a better view. it’s probably been a few minutes and choso’s already panting like a dog. he’s feral - softly planting a stripe of wet kisses down your neck as he’s buried balls deep. “ugh, baby. ‘m gonna cum, gonna cum, ngh.”

“inside, ‘cho. ‘s okay,” you whine, feeling his pace grow more relentless and sloppy. choso’s gripping your waist tightly, his bottom lip quivering as he’s feeling a sudden rush overtake his entire body. you’re perfect - he wanted to keep you like this forever, plug you full and keep you warm. you could hear his rough, heavy pants from behind you until he finally came.

whitish thick ribbons pour into you all at once, shooting deep into your womb.

it’s hot - physically and literally.

you’re arched over for him like a bridge and he’s whimpering, furrowing his darkened brows with a pout as choso slowly starts to flood your cunt. globs of sleek strings spray inside your gripping cunt as he gradually pulls out, openly watching as you’re moaning. the feeling of your walls wrapping around his cock had him feeling fuzzy. “m- mhm, choso,” you’d mewl out, hearing him cutely gasp once your cunt sloshes loudly, spitting out thin clumps of his cum. “ ‘m so full.”

“hah- ‘n you’re gonna get even fuller, baby,” he huffs, a pout still glossing over his slickly-wet lips as he stares at your pussy. it’s pretty like this, he thinks. from top to bottom—you’re stuffed full of his gooey hot cum, so much to where it’s shamelessly oozing out of your puffed slit, racing down your numb jittery thighs. you moan, feeling choso drag a thumb down your sobbing, slobbering slit before popping his thumb into his mouth, licking his mess right off his finger.

choso moans at the taste before pouting. “not done, one more round,” and as he glides his tongue across his digit, choso gives your cunt a soft spank before groaning, softly pushing your knees to your chest.

“ ‘m still hungry.”

#TOJI FUSHIGURO aka the virgin who gets humbled?!

“heh. do y’r worst, baby,” toji would snicker, bringing a spank to your ass as he leans back against the couch. lazily, he’s slouching with a half-filled can of cheap beer in his hand. he’s smug, and not only was he smug but he was also virgin - the cockiest.

it’s funny because toji didn’t know what the fuck he was doing…however, he was more than willing for you to ‘show him’ how to feel good.

of course—he’s haughty that you won’t be able to take him, but it’s much to be expected for a pompous fratboy. “mmh, goddamn,” he’d grunt, peering down at your glossed weeping pussy. it’s wet, and as you straddle him, toji squeezes the energy drink in his hand. “slow, baby s- slow.”

with a cooing whisper, you sprinkle a few kisses near the inside of his neck. “slower, toji? but you’re the one who kept rushin’ me,” you tease, and from your peripherals, you can see his jaw tensing. fuck, the moment your cunt starts to ease down on his length in a gradually paced manner, toji groans. it’s a low husky groan - the groan where he’s already tossing his head back.

“y’r bein’ a brat,” he snarls, sliding an arm around your waist. your pussy was hypnotic - and you wearing one of his oversized jade-colored frat hoodies only made things ten times worse. you looked so pretty, and he couldn’t help but trail his hooded eyes down your body, stopping at the hem of your waist and right near your ass. “fuck- slow, baby. ‘m damn sensitive,” and you watch the sly smirk that was once plastered on his scarred lips slowly starting to fade. toji’s getting more ‘n more pussy drunk, and he knows it too. “mhh, like that. fuck me good.”

“you talk too much,” you teasingly grip his chin, watching as his leafy verdant eyes gaze into yours. he’s hard - and not only is he hard but he’s insanely sensitive. toji scoffs, but that soon disappears the moment your hips start to move. “hnghh,” you suck in a brisk breath, eyes nearly widening once you start to feel the gaping, lewd stretch. his cock was long ‘n tall—merrily expanding through your cunt within each thick inch.

one thrust - just one fuckin’ thrust and that was all it took for you to nearly break. he’s huge, and you whimper the second you feel his plump swollen sack kiss near the undersides of your bare ass. “oh yeah? make me shut up then.”

famous last words.

because even though toji’s all talk, he gets humbled right away the minute you change him as a person entirely all from your sweet, mesmerizing cunt. toji leans back, groaning gruffly against your ear as faint gurgled whines depart from his throat. you’re riding him good, shutting him with your pussy—humbling him with your hips. oh, you’re just riding him into complete oblivion. toji was left speechless, and instead of you moaning his name, he was moaning yours.

“ngh, fuck. god, ‘s good don’t fuckin’ stop workin’ those hips, s- shit,” he’d huskily snarl, squeezing the plastic can within his palm, crushing its shape. toji’s cologne scent was loud, and it completely rubbed off against your skin as you moaned. you were grinding against him back ‘n forth, whining continuously before milliseconds passed by and you’re now starting to feel your stomach churn churn churn.

each eye rolling, toe-curling feeling that twists in the depths of your insides due to his cock makes you sob out moan after moan. you try to silence yourself by sneaking a few needy kisses near toji’s scarred lip. he grunts with a clenched jaw, returning the gesture with a hand glued to your ass.

it moves like water - toji was always an ass man, and now that he was finally living the dream, he spanked you again, and again, and again.

the jiggle against his palm makes his dick throb, and you feel it right inside of your cunt. “doin’ okay, toji?” you tease breathlessly, watching as a shiny string of saliva tears away from both lips. you felt him squeeze his way wholly inside of your fleshy entrance, ploddingly and sloppily thrusting in and out.

“tch. less talkin’ more ridin—oh fuck,” he’d gruff, his shoulders slackening as you sensually rutted your hips further into him. god, you were teasing him so much and your wet, filthy cunt was to blame. he wanted more, more more. the way you moved in such a relentless manner drove toji crazy and he was starting to think maybe the two of you were just more than roommates. your pussy had that kind of power, and it’s not even seconds later before toji’s about to cum.

but surprisingly, he ends up lifting you with burly arms, pulling out with a speed equivalent to the flash. he moans, staring at his leaking reddened tip that’s dribbling from the slit with sticky droplets of warm cum. he’s heaving, staring back at your sparkly-coated cunt before he makes you recline back against the couch.

“f- fuck, ‘s much. lie back, baby. l- lie back for me,” and once you do, he merely pounces on you. toji exhales out a deep, heavy sigh before aligning his swollen tip near your dripping cunt. “god, look at ‘er,” he grunts, and you could hear the tremor in his voice as he’s spraying his seed on the outer part of your wetted entrance. it’s long, striped stripes of ivory ropes that paint your bare tender clit and he licks his lips at the filthy sight. “hah, so fuckin’ hot. milkin’ me like that, f- fuck.”

“you came pretty quick, toji,” you jibe, spreading your sopping cunt lips apart so he could play between your legs some more. with a loud ‘thwack’, toji smacks his swollen tip against your pussy, smearing his blushing crownhead up ‘n down your stained crying slit. it’s so messy, and you watch as his tongue briefly sticks out between his ruby lips.

“let’s not talk ‘bout that,” toji grumps, and you moan the second he’s re-aligning himself. his fat girth was ready to introduce itself yet again to your swollen insides. toji’s still panting, and you can see how flustered he was because he’s visibly pouting. “f- fuck, i . . i need a minute,” and he pulls back out, slouching back against the couch. you crawl over toward him and within a split second he wraps an arm around you.

yeah, he’s obsessed.

“give me . . a minute,” he huffs, his chiseled abs flexing through his grey dingy tank. toji pulls you into his beefy hardened pecs before staring down at you, and your eyes widen once he kisses the top of your forehead. “next time, ‘m gonna last ten- no, thirteen rounds.”

“sureee thing, big guy.”

spoiler - he doesn’t.

#INO TAKUMA aka the virgin who…falls in love?!

ino who moans out a sweet gasping, “f- fuuck me,” the second he’s easing his way inside of you for the first time. his dick feels soft for a second, tenderly assuaging through your insides before he whimpers at the new feeling. ino’s heavily panting out short breaths, staring at your bare exposed body that prettily sits underneath him before he moans. “ ‘m not hurtin’ you, right, angel?”

“no, no. ‘m fine, ino,” you let off a soft sigh, the lower parts of your legs snaking around his waist. ino grunts, going as slow as he can. he’s barely even a few inches in and he’s already sweating profusely. “easyy, that’s it, baby,” you reassure him with labored breaths, staring into his droopy hooded eyes. ino’s beanie was on the verge of sliding off the side of his head before he sucks his teeth at your gripping warmth. “hold my hand, here,” and you could feel his body shudder the moment you intertwine your fingers against his.

he’s big, and he knows it. ino scrunches his dark brows into a furrow, trying his best to blindly navigate his way inside of your cunt. right away, you’re clenching around him tight, locking your unstable legs around his waist before hearing him let off a sweet whimper.

“ugh, you feel so good, so good,” and within each wet-sounding thrust, his words start to pitch. it gets lower ‘n lower, raspy and husky. ino’s skin starts to glue against you thanks to the splotches of sweat dampening against each other before he huffs. “tell me it's too much, ngh—fuck,” and his eyes soften the moment you cup his face. “s- sorryy, am i talkin’ too much?”

“ ‘s okay, ino,” you inhale, and his pace starts to get quicker. vast, thorough thrusts make you feel every inch. his frantic rhythm rocks into you steadily, causing the bed to constantly wail out pathetic whiney creaks. you brush a thumb across the side of his cheek before moaning, feeling his tip zigzag its way across your sensitive g-spot. “ah! right there, ino. there, baby t- thereee.”

“there, oh- okay,” he tries to take note, studying your body’s movements. into felt his cock twitch at your reaction. so cute. you’d clench around him tight before arching your back, dragging your nails down his soft skin. ino’s stretching you out to the very limit, plummeting his dick into you over and over until you’re seeing nothing but cloudy blobs of white. you hadn’t even realized your eyes were lulling near the back of your head before he cheekily pointed it out. “heh, you look kinda silly like this pretty girl.”

you shoot him a playful glare whilst he’s still driving himself into your mid-thrust and ino sheepishly snickers. “sorry, sorry,” and with a sticky smooch, he brings his lips up against yours. ino’s pace starts to pick up more and more, championing his chiseled askew hips into you. “ah, i think ‘m gonna cum though, shitshitshit,” and as he’s rambling, ino starts to feel his hips into you quicker. “hah, lovie- tell me what ‘ta do. where do i f- finish,” he’d huff breathlessly, sliding his scarred hands near the sides of your waist. “tell me, pretty.”

“inside, baby,” you whisper against the shell of his ear. ino’s eyes widen - darkening, and he groans. the way you talked to him so sweet in his ear, even licking against the outer lobe makes him shiver. you’re a tease, and he only wanted more. ino wanted more . . of you. “wan’ you inside.”

“say it again,” he shakily whines against your neck, nipping a few invisible kisses near the juncture of your exposed collarbone. you tasted sweet, and ino’s mind spun cogwheels throughout each second he’s spent buried inside of you. “talk ‘ta me in that pretty voice- wanna hear you again. p- please.”

with a sobbing mewl from the brief twinges that slowly form into pleasure—you repeat yourself in a desperate mewling cry of, “inside, ino. please, f- fuck me,” and oh- if you saw the look on his face. his heart’s pounding as he’s mercilessly driving his hips into you at full fuckin’ throttle.

ino’s groaning into your neck, feeling his body growing limp before a lengthy multitude of seconds goes by and he’s cumming, hard.

it’s a thin hefty load - runny, stringy ribbons of feverish hot cum that splatters deep inside of you.

ino melts like a puddle into your embrace as you wrap your arms around him. “fuuuck, i lo-” he pauses, getting silenced by a shattering breath. your pussy’s got him secured on a leash, and he’s groaning once he hears himself pour such slimy amounts way into your womb. it sprays everywhere, painting inside and out.

ino kisses his teeth sharply, pressing one more kiss near the tip of your nose before moaning. “h- heh, think i love you, angel,” and you moan, feeling him slowly raise your leg, tossing it over your shoulder.

a hand of his creeps between your gloss-coated, gooey legs that practically stuck together before he pulls out midway, smearing a palm against your stuffed pussy. “ ‘n i love her especially, s- so much.”

[veinpursuer]

WHERE’S MY FUKING CAPO

[blkkizzat]

❝DIGIMON—BUT MAKING U CUM IS MY REAL HOBBY!❞

⏯ OTAKU!GOJO X BIMBO!READER

⏭ summary: your best friend gojo is a hopeless otaku virgin with zero rizz that's still obsessed with digimon—despite being a grown ass man. you're a slut who despite her best whoring efforts—can't cum. you'll take his v-card and he'll fix your broken pussy, deal? college au.

⏭ cw: virgin!satoru, gentle sex then rough sex , spanking (ass & pussy), slight sugar daddy/baby dynamic, coercion, dubcon, ecchi/pervy/freak nasty satoru, apprehensive bimbo!reader scared to nut, reader is also a bit of a tsundere brat but this isn't brat taming per se, oral fixation, toe licking, riding, prone bone, missionary, pussy eating, deep-throating, forced gagging, fingering, squirting, edging, olfactophilia, hand-job, protected & unprotected sex, bdsm references, masturbation, bit of somnophilia, pet names: Bunny (reader is called that in lieu of y/n), suggestions of geto x reader, mentions of satosugu and shokohime.

⏭ a/n: in my crack smut bag again cause this white haired demon wont let me rest until i write this nasty shit. fr tho this fic 13.3k and literally 10k of it is Gojo fucking you six ways to sunday. fyi this is the same y/n from nerd!geto but this is a different version of that AU where suguru is the one who has rizz and satoru is the nerd. y'all better read this or i'll never write gojo again istg lmfao. also shoutout to @halosdiary for beta reading and telling me it was good enough to post lol.

eta: y'all won. its a series now lol

“FUCK YEAH, LET’S GO!!! I ALONE AM THE CHAMPION OF THE DIGITAL WORLD!!!”

Startled by Gojo’s sudden outburst—you nearly rolled off the bed. 

Thankfully Suguru is sitting next to you and caught you before you fell off completely. 

Fully energized by his win Gojo sprang up from his elaborate PC setup, bouncing around the room in celebration. Fist-pumping the air he couldn’t contain his excitement after winning the Tokyo Regional Qualifiers for the Digimon Online TCG. 

“Guys, hey guys! See! I told you I’d win! I’m the strongest! The digidestined!”

You and Suguru exchanged exasperated glances before side-eyeing the hell out of Gojo.

This went on for a good 10 minutes so you had since returned to mindlessly scrolling TikTok, not wanting to encourage your grown-ass-almost-22-years-old-best-friend’s excitement over a children’s game.

“You sure showed those middle schoolers, Toru.”

Suguru quips with a smile. He’s clearly being sarcastic but Gojo is unfazed—nothing could damper his mood.

“Damn straight I did!”

Both you and Suguru have to chuckle, rolling your eyes at his childish enthusiasm. 

Despite the shared sentiment of annoyance over your best friend’s hobbies, you both were just happy to have Gojo back again. Two long years had passed since his parents made him travel the world on a rotation program, tasked with visiting the various Six-Vision Industries offices he would one day inherit. 

Being the nerdy genius he was, Gojo stacked a mass of university level credits in high school. So even with missing the first two years of college he’d still be joining you as a third year at your university come fall. 

After being apart for so long it was refreshing to hang out again and kicking it at Gojo’s mansion had been a daily occurrence since the start of the summer. Although things had definitely changed in the two years Gojo had been away there was one thing that certainly hadn’t.

Gojo was still a fucking huge otaku nerd. 

You’d thought his time spent in the business world would have matured him. However, being abroad, away from his friends and spending all day around the ‘stinky old fogeys in suits’ as he called them, only made him retreat further into otakudom. 

That much was evident as his collection of posters, figures and manga had somehow only seemed to grow even with him away. 

“Alright, while I just would love to stick around and hear more about you destroying the dreams of 12 year olds Toru—beach girl just texted me, gotta bounce!”

Suguru tries to leave but Toru clings onto him practically spider monkeying himself onto his back in an effort to get him to stay. 

“Sugu! Don’t leave! We’ve already been apart from each other for too long~~”

Sighing, Suguru attempts to pry his incorrigible bestie off of him.

“Satoru, you just spent the last 5 hours playing Digimon acting like me and Bunny weren’t even here. I’m sure if you go back to playing you won't even miss me.”

Gojo continues to pout as he whines for Suguru to stay.

“But I miss you already Sugu!”

Gojo presses his cheek against Suguru’s as Suguru’s eyebrow begins to twitch.

“I know! Invite your date here! Our chef is 10 times better than any restaurant you’d go to and you know we have an infinity pool grotto and onsen!

While the offer was tempting as any potential date would be thoroughly wowed by the decadent splendor that was the Gojo Family Residence—Suguru would also thoroughly cuck himself once his date was given the grand tour. 

Particularly the stop which included Gojo’s anime figure and otaku memorabilia rooms. 

While a good number of them were harmlessly nerdy shonen or slightly ecchi isekai figures—the rest? Well the rest contained every kind of freak nasty hentai figure you could think of—shibari, futanari and even the classic La Blue Girl tentacle dioramas—it was like a horny museum. 

Although at this point it should be considered a horny mausoleum as no woman who walked in would be walking out still in the mood—it was surely a place where horny went to die.

“Uh yeah, sure next time Toru….”

Suguru reaches back to pat Gojo on the head reassuringly. 

Lying as he was more than certain there wouldn’t be a next time. There wasn’t even going to be dinner—this was purely a hookup situation. 

“...but she’s already waiting for me outside my place—gotta run!”

Realizing Gojo still wasn’t letting go, Suguru sighs realizing this would require him utilizing his Judo training. 

In one swift movement, Suguru manages to shoulder-wheel Gojo and toss him onto the other side of his massive bed. The bed rebounds as he lands, slightly lifting you off your belly but you still are more interested in your phone. 

This isn’t the first time Suguru has Judo thrown Gojo off of him (likely wouldn’t be the last either).

Saying quick goodbyes before Gojo could recover, Suguru manages to slip away.

“Traitor!!! So much for bros before hoes!”

Utterly dejected, Gojo crawls up next to you on his massive bed.

“At least I still have you here Bunny.”

“Uh, not to pile on but you know I’m only here until Shoko and Utahime text me they are ready to go to the mall, right? I’m in dire need of a new handbag!”

Now clinging on to you Gojo throws another small tantrum as the weight of half his sinewy body presses into your back, his lean muscular arms wrapping around your shoulders.

“Not you too, Bunny puhleeease!”

You’ve known each other since you were in diapers so it wasn’t odd for you, him or Suguru to be found giving the others platonic cuddles like this—often all together too. The both of them were always so much bigger than you so you often enjoyed the comfort and security of always being the filling in the cuddle sandwich.

Gojo rests his chin on your shoulder watching as you continue scrolling TikTok. You sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes before his irritatingly hyperactive nature gets the best of him, and he starts poking around your phone to click on other videos that weren’t the 'mystery and makeup' ones you were watching.

“Toru, you know you could get a lot of your own hoes to hang out with if you weren’t such a huge otaku nerd…”

You had to swat Gojo’s hand away again as he tries to click on another prank video and he rolls off of you with a frustrated sigh. 

“...you’re almost as good looking as Suguru…”

Muttering the last part of that under your breath. Arguably Gojo’s features were just as if not more striking than Suguru’s. 

He was too hot himself for all of it to go to waste for being such a big dork.

“I’m sure Sugu would be happy to teach you ‘the way of the fuckboy’ if you asked Toru—that is if you’d actually go out clubbing like a normal 21 year old.”

“Why would I do that though? My house is 100 times better than a club!” 

Touché. 

While no one in your friend group was what someone would consider poor, Gojo’s wealth paled in comparison to anyone else’s and that went without saying. He’d had everything—if not more—than even the nicest tokyo club had. This was all thanks to his parents as socialites in their own right, often entertaining businessmen, dignitaries or foreign representatives with their ultra-exclusive parties.

“Besides, it wouldn't work—”

Gojo continued to pout.

“—Suguru would just get all the hoes anyway.” 

Easily able to walk up to even the most standoffish looking women, Suguru would have them reduced to bashful school girls in under 5 minutes. The women were always willing to hand over their numbers or drop any immediate plans to hang out with Suguru instead.

A good number of them had boyfriends already too.

Yet despite having the looks, Gojo opening his mouth ruined any advantage his lustrous blue eyes, exotic snow white hair and sharp handsome features gave him.

“Well, Suguru has a normal 21 year old’s room for starters, Toru. Not full of nerdy ass anime posters and Digimon tournament trophies.”

Gojo goes quiet. 

Driven from an early age to fill his head with knowledge of politics, technology, and international business relations, he spent the precious free time he did get with his friends or consumed by his own interests. Interests which just happened to be a bunch of otaku shit—Digimon in particular. 

It was an escape he’d cherished as a child and that didn’t change growing into adulthood either, if anything he needed it more now.

When Gojo doesn’t answer you look over to see him actually sulking for real now—face buried in a giant Agumon pillow plushie. 

What a crybaby. 

But the crybaby was one of your besties so you decided to lighten the mood and tease him a little.

“Ya know Toruuuu….you could just fuck Sugu then. Don’t think I haven’t seen y’all get a lil’ handsy during our cuddles!”

You give him a playful smirk and mime grabby hands at him.

“Oh and you haven’t? Don’t act like you wouldn’t fuck Suguru either!”

No longer appearing mopey, Gojo is up and laughing again. Mission Accomplished.

“Hey! I never said I wouldn’t but this isn’t about me, this is about you finally getting some play!”

You snap back but you’re blushing.

Like damn, who hadn’t thought about fucking Suguru though? 

“It's not the same if he makes me bottom! Plus no one thinks I can get pussy!”

Gojo grumbles, hugging his Agumon plushie to his cheek. 

You can’t help but notice how cute and baby girl he looks all pouty. 

He’d definitely get women lining up around the block of his huge ass mansion if he could at least get to the dating phase without giving out the otaku ick. 

“Because you can’t Gojo—Hoes don’t want to fuck guys who play Digimon!”

“But you’re a hoe and you like digimon too!”

Turning to look at him, you’d had half a mind to slap the shit out of Satoru but he had said it so earnestly. There was no sass nor malice behind his words. 

Besides, you were a hoe. That wasn’t something you ever denied.

You sigh. 

“Yeah I am a hoe now and I—keyword—liked Digimon. But that was back when I was a kid, Toru!”

Gojo scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“Listen, you’re my friend so m’gonna keep it a buck with you—a guy concerned with being digidestined is definitely not pussy destined, you digidork!”

You playfully hit him with the pillow you were laying on, not wanting him to start sulking again. 

Finally stimulated by something interesting Gojo wastes no time joining the pillow fight you initiated and you tussle with him on the bed until you both are exhausted and out of breath. 

Of course you come out of it victorious though. By the end you’d pinned both the pillows and Toru under you. 

Gojo however is back to pouting.

“Ugh, Bunny seriously though—I can’t go into junior year of college as a virgin!”

You smirk at his complaints as the answer is obvious.

“Throw away your figures and digimon cards then.”

“I’d rather die.”

“A virgin? At this rate you will.”

Gojo huffs in defeat as you settle comfortably on top of him this time. 

You’re about to reach for your phone again until you see a curious look flash across his face—the kind of look he always had as a kid when he thought of a hair-brain scheme that would lead to getting you all in trouble.

“Toru—what is it? And why do I have the feeling m’not gonna like it?”

You pull away cautiously, but his large hands grip your waist, stopping you and causing you to squeak in surprise.

“Hm, I dunno—was just thinkin’... why don’t you fuck me, Bunny?”

Your deadpan expression has Gojo scrambling, holding you closer in a vice grip when you try to squirm away. 

“Hey! Wait, I’m serious! Come on, Bunny! I need the experience and you always tell us about all your hookups! You have the experience—help a guy out!”

Staring at him skeptically you considered.

I mean sure, you always thought Gojo was attractive, more so since he returned this summer nearly a half a foot taller—but he was Gojo Satoru.

Your dorky, goofy, pervy otaku bestie practically since birth! 

You couldn’t just go and fuck him could you?

God, you could only imagine the taunts you’d get if word got out. Your friend group would never let you live it down! 

“Nah Toru—that would be too weird!”

“Huh, how come? You said I was almost as attractive as Suguru earlier!”

You stiffen.

Fuck, he’d heard that after all. 

“Ooo, ooo! Annnnd, you said last week you wanted a sugar daddy… Well, hi! I’m right here!”

The huge grin on his face has you frowning although more so because he was actually making some sense for once. I mean you were half-joking when you said it—well, let’s be honest not really. 

However, you mostly said it because while your family was well off enough, you still weren’t living in the lap of luxury by any means like a Gojo clan member. Unfortunately for you though, you were born with the expensive tastes of someone who was. So while you could afford a cute Chanel bag or a MCM wallet here or there, you’d set your sights on something higher—a coveted Hermes Birkin. 

Toru certainly could afford to buy you a whole truck load of them with what his family made in less than an hour. 

Nevertheless that wasn’t really the issue at hand. 

In spite of you being far from a virgin, there was actually a good reason why you wouldn’t be a good choice for Gojo to lose his v-card.

“Er, em—that’s really not the issue, Toru…” 

Trailing off you’re the one pouting now as you glance at your nails. 

“Then what? Don’t tell me our lil’ Bun Bun is shy now? Over lil’ ol’ me?”

Gojo teases you by sticking out his tongue—chuckling when you snap your head up to glare at him.

“You wish…” 

You grumble, chewing your lip now and debating whether or not to tell him the truth while Gojo looks at you with wide and glassy puppy eyes. Shaking your head you come to the conclusion you could trust him with your secret. 

He was the virgin otaku after all—he’s the one who should be embarrassed here!

“It’s just that…I–I can’t cum.”

Gojo just blinks at you. 

Clearly confused with metaphorical question marks surrounding his head as that's definitely not the answer he was expecting.

“I’ve slept with plenty of guys before but I never had an orgasm. I don't even really get close—I mean, sure, it feels good, I guess—mostly just a little weird. I heard some people just can’t and maybe that's me.”

You shrug, a bit nervous to look Gojo in the eye as you thought he may tease you further about this but was lost in contemplation. Almost as if he was seriously trying to do the biological math around what you’d just told him.  

After about a minute more he finally asks—

“—Does Suguru know?”

A simple question, unloaded in tone as Gojo is genuinely curious but it leaves you flustered nonetheless. 

“What?! Are you crazy?! Why would I tell him?!”

“Just figured if anyone could then—”

“—Hell no, Toru! Besides, what if he does? I’m not trying to be reduced to a fuckboy’s pick me if he ends up being the only man alive who can give me an orgasm!”

Sure Suguru was hot as fuck—as was a lot of your other fuckboy friends (Toji and Sukuna)—but you definitely didn’t want to end up like the dickmatized girls that would follow them around and literally box each other in the streets over some cock. 

You weren’t much of a fighter anyway and your face was far too cute to be getting scratched up.

Pussy should be put on a pedestal, not the other way around. You’d continue to be orgasmless before it came to that.

“Mm, but Shoko and Utahime know?”

You’re blushing more than ever this time.

“Um, yeah—T-They said once I realized all men were worthless to call them and they’d give me multiple of them.”

Gojo snorted at that but he was now convinced you both could help each other. 

“So we have no other options—then it's settled!”

In one fluid motion Gojo snatches away the pillows from between you and swaps positions—now with you on the bottom.

“Huh–wait—Toru!?”

Gojo groans.

“Come on, Bunny! I want pussy, you want to cum on top of getting that Bikram bag—

“—Birkin bag.” 

You corrected him.

“Yeah that one! So let’s help each other out, eh?  PULHEEEASEEE—Just the tip?”

You weren’t at all convinced that Gojo—whose sexual knowledge came purely from JAV, hentai and onaholes—could make you cum.

But then again sure, fuck it, why not?

You were getting bored waiting for Shoko to call you anyway and if Toru was willing to come off a Birkin for a lil’ pussy, you might as well fuck him. 

None of the other guys you had fucked even came close to making sex this worth it. Frankly this would be worth it even if you didn’t actually cum.  

“Fiiiine Toru, let’s have sex—”

“FUCK YEAH!”

“—BUT we’re laying down some ground rules!”

Sitting up with a straight back, Gojo obediently awaited your orders.

“Anything you want Bunny, name 'em go’on!”

Gojo’s overenthusiasm was like a puppy and you were sure if he had a tail it would be thumping on the bed like crazy now. 

You wanted to crack a smile but you know from prior experience that if you give men an inch they will take the whole goddamn mile—and Gojo of all people was no exception—so you are firm as you sit up to look in his eyes and lay down the law.

 “First—like you said, just the tip.”

Gojo started to protest but the raise of your eyebrows had him changing his tune immediately.

“Got it! Got it! Just the tip would be amazing Bunny, what else?”

He chided himself and you continued.

“And secondly, just because you bros have no loyalty, it’s still ‘chicks before dicks’ over here. You better get your nut quick cause I’m still leaving to go purse shopping when Shoko and Utahime call me.”

Gojo waves you off with that rule. 

“Psh, we should have plenty of time, it's almost 6pm! They’ve probably been too busy bumping their own purses together to go shopping with you for one. You haven’t heard from either of them in hours!”

Fair point—wildly out of pocket, but fair. 

Still. 

“Bumping Purses!? Really, Toru?”

“You know I’m not lying—but that’s it then, right Bunny?”

Not waiting, Gojo throws his shirt off and starts fumbling with the ties on his sweats before you stop him.

“Nah, Toru, hold your horses! One more rule!”

Freezing mid-action, Gojo's hands are shaking as he expectantly gazes at you, waiting for the last condition before you give him the green light.

“Finally, third—and most fucking importanly—if you make any, and I mean even just ONE—otaku reference, especially Digimon while you’re inside me I’ll snap your lil’ digidick off, understood?”

Gojo swallowed. 

Hard terms to live with but something he would be willing to abide by for pussy.

“Yes ma’am! Got it! Just the tip, you will ditch me for the purse bumpers and no Digimon!”

Gojo repeats your rules matter-of-factly. 

You roll your eyes but are satisfied enough he understood and you wave him off in the direction of your bag.

“Good. Now, be a good boy and go get a rubber out of my purse.” 

Bolting over to your purse Gojo grabs a pack of condoms and is back on the bed in an instant.

Reality sinking in on what you were about to do and who you were about to do it with, you suddenly become hyper aware, appraising Gojo. 

You note just how much in the two years since high school he’s grown. Still a bit lanky in areas but overall he filled out more for sure and his muscles were much more defined rippling underneath his skin as he eagerly clambered over you. Gojo still possessed the same piercing sky blue eyes that lit up a room but they looked all too predatorily hungry now that he was hovering over you. 

You swallow.

You’d feel almost completely out of control of the situation if it wasn’t also for the bundle of nervous energy radiating off of Gojo—his hands spasming like he might bust his pants the moment he touches you.

You try to maintain your composure, but your jaw drops and your eyes widen in shock when he finally pushes his sweats and boxers down in one swift motion.

Gojo was fucking huge!

“Toru—what the actual fuck?!”

Third leg was a massive understatement. 

I mean you didn’t think he’d be small—you’d been around him enough in boxers, sweats, pjs, etc growing up—but you didn’t expect this. 

He was definitely a grower and Christ did he just fucking grow!

Gojo looked puzzled until he followed your wide eyed gawking down to his lower half. 

Heh. 

“Am I the biggest you’ve seen, Bunny?”

Growing prideful Gojo pokes at you a bit and your ogling only grows more incredulous. 

You didn't know if he was the girthiest but certainly the longest by far. He’d actually puncture a lung if he stuck that whole monstrous thing in you!

It would literally have to be just the tip and you are thanking God right now that he’d already agreed to those terms. That would be much too uncomfortable to cum from and you are beginning to question how the pornstars manage. This wasn’t a JAV but Gojo, if his company ever went belly up, certainly had a promising career on OnlyFans ahead of him.

Gojo’s chest puffed up ten times more from your staring as he slipped the condom on (which only fit two-thirds of the way down). 

“O-Ok, Bunny now you!”

His cock throbbed more violently the longer you looked at him. The anticipation is contagious to say the least and you can't help but feel your chest warm at his eagerness. 

Gojo wants to get the attention off of him and you smile at him knowingly.

“You mean you don’t want to take my clothes off yourself?”

The thought never occurred to Gojo but he dumbly nodded. Your yelps echo in the room as his massive hands are on your hips faster than lighting pulling you towards him. 

The motion causes your tits to jiggle, the soft mounds moving freely beneath your spaghetti strapped halter and Gojo berates himself on how he only now is noticing you weren’t wearing a bra all this time. 

Gojo’s mouth goes dry at your nipples, already peaked and poking through the thin fabric. 

Your nipples pucker further when the crisp air of the A/C hits them after Gojo pulls your top overhead and you arch up to assist, not realizing you presented yourself to him like a treat to a dog. 

“T-Toru!!!!”

Gojo wraps his strong sturdy arms fully around your body. Pressing his face deep into your chest as his warm wet lips latch onto a nipple. His mouth now suctioned to you, Gojo swirls and flicks his tongue around the hardened bud. Gojo moans around your flesh, pleasantly surprised at how addicting the sweet salty taste of your skin is. 

If Gojo wasn’t sure he had an oral fixation before he surely knows now. Zoning out everything else except for the sloppy sounds of him worshiping your breast, he relishes the contrasting textures of his rough tongue suckling the soft skin of your swelling bud. 

Gojo surely would have been latched onto you for hours and you are only able to pry his head away when he releases your nipple with a wet pop to take a breath.

“TORU!!!”

You’re panting and red faced as you yank his head back. 

But Gojo is a man solely focused—tongue hanging out off his mouth captivated by how cutely your areola puffed as it glistened with his spit and fighting overwhelming desire to get the other one in a similar state.

“Huh–Bunny, b-baby—you taste so good n’ your tiddies are so nice—so fuh-kin’ soft.”

Gojo’s tongue is hanging out of his mouth drooling as he attempts to dive back into your chest. you feel his heavy cock on your thigh as his hips begin to rut against you. 

This was too much!

“Stop Toru! You’re being too rough, they are sensitive! Besides, times’ ticking! Remember I have no problem leaving you blue balled if Shoko or Utahime call me!” 

You do your best to give him a disapproving look as you blush.

“Awe but you seemed like you were liking it, you were whining loud enough.”

“Shut up n’just get on with it!”

“Yes ma’am~~”

Enjoying your breasts so much Gojo almost forgot he hadn’t even seen your pretty pussy yet. 

Making quick work of your shorts, Gojo manages to pull them down just over your core but is stunned once again as he burns the image of the skin-melding fabric of the mesh hot pink g-string covering your cunt. The thin satiny straps dug into your supple hips amplifying your curvaceous form.

Fucking slutty as hell!  

Rivaling that of even his most favorite and most scandalous hentai figures. 

This was so much better, so much more lewd as the clingy fabric struggles to cover the fat of your plump pussy lips—not like the transparency of them left much to the imagination. 

God help him, he just wants to tear them off with his teeth and open mouth swan-dive into your dewy lil’cunt—-pushing his tongue deep into your peachy core tongue fucking orgasm after orgasm out of you until he drowned in your milky nectar—but he has to restrain himself.

You probably wouldn’t like that too much given your reaction earlier and he’d die if you’d happen to just call the whole thing off.

Mouth drying and hands twitching—Gojo is trying so hard to be a good boy and contain his more perverted instincts.

“Earth to Toru! Y-You good?”

Gojo looked like a tightly wound coil ready to pop in every sense of the word and you hated that his nervousness was making you nervous too. 

So on edge you almost jumped once his eyes snapped up to meet yours.

“G-Great, Bunny…j-just fine.” 

Gojo’s voice falters, becoming more pitchy and you giggle. As much as Gojo wants to look at your pussy as he peels the flimsy moist fabric off of them he couldn’t do that at this moment—he would actually bust his pants.

Instead, Gojo leans in to kiss you, but you block him. He ends up kissing your palm instead.

“Toruuu… that be too weird, we’re friends remember?”

“Yeah friends who are fucking, Bunny! You mean you won’t let my tongue in your mouth but you’re letting my dick inside your pussy?!”

You knew it sounded nonsensical even before he said it back to you. But your heart was pounding so loudly in your ears you could barely hear him anyway.

You didn’t know what you were scared of this time? 

You had let all your other previous hookups makeout with you but Gojo was different. 

This felt entirely different.

You didn’t know why, you just knew it was and you were apprehensive of the unfamiliar emotions he was stirring in you and this wasn’t supposed to be anything more than an arrangement between friends.

“Don’t you need to warm up tho Bunny? Obviously m’no pro at this—but even I know a little bit more foreplay is usually needed?”

Your heart beats louder at his concern but you push that aside trying to focus on your breaths. 

Satoru should have been the easiest lay but for a reason that alludes—you were coming undone before him.

“Shut up Toru and just fuck me! The foreplay stuff doesn't matter, it won't make a difference anyway, m’not gonna cum! Also you’re big af so grab your lube. We're gonna need lots of it!”

Toru pouts but follows your commands without fuss. 

Although he’s anxious to get his dick wet he also is still thinking of how he can hold up his end of the bargain other than a stupid purse. 

You said he didn’t need to but he wanted to. 

The thought of finally losing his v-card excited him but there was something that made his cock throb harder at being the first man to give you an orgasm. 

But you don’t want him to touch you beyond what was absolutely necessary, so how was he going to accomplish that exactly?  

Gojo was a genius and had the IQ score to prove it, he’d be able to solve the problem once he was inside you, right? 

Turning back to face you after retrieving the lube from his nightstand, Toru has to grab the base of his cock this time to keep from prematurely coming in the latex that was already starting to thicken with his precum.

There you were laid out like a slut—panties pulled to the side—fingering yourself a bit to loosen up, having reconsidered his suggestion of foreplay when the twitching on your thigh reminded you of how big he actually was.

“OH SHI—”

You notice his jaw hanging open, utterly entranced as his eyes follow the motions. 

You knew you should be letting him do this to get the experience but honestly there was no sense in setting Gojo up for failure—delivering a significant blow to his ego when he inevitably couldn’t make you cum. You didn’t want to damage him even more if he felt it was his fault your pussy was apparently broken, you having tensed up completely every time a guy had tried before.

But you can’t deny you are getting some pleasure—if only through your own amusement—as you grab his cock and pump the lube he poured down his latex covered shaft, still fingering yourself—much to Gojo’s delight and wonder of seeing an actual real pussy up close. 

Gojo sucks in air and groans pitifully as your hand spreads the cool gel over his length which only intensifies his ache to be inside of you. 

“C’mere, Toru…”

You beckon sweetly, guiding him forward with your back against the pillows, you tease the crown of his tip through your folds preparing him for missionary. 

Gojo nearly bites a chunk out of his lip when his thick cockhead finally catches over your slicked entrance and you’re left wincing.

“T-Toru, e-easy—o-ok? Not too deep...”

A breathy confirmation shudders out of Gojo as he’s easing himself into your warm tightening cunt. The stretch is immediate which mentally confirms for you he is also the girthiest you’ve ever had as well. 

Your heels dig into his hips to brace yourself while he hovers over you, arms shaking.

“FUUUUUHHHH—”

Even with the rubber on, Gojo still thinks he might melt from how warm and tight you are—so much better than even his onahole with the custom grip and heating features. 

Screwing his eyes shut, Gojo has to count backwards from a million, recite Japan’s national anthem, list the GDPs of the top 10 wealthiest countries—anything—or he will cum too soon or worse, crack and drive his hips until he’s all the way to the hilt from the way your dangerous lil’ pussy is sucking him in.

God, it felt like your slutty cunt had a mind of its own calling for him to push in a lil’ deeper, greedily begging for him to go a lil’ further but Gojo resists. 

Sweat beads on his brow from the exerted effort of sheer willpower to keep his promise to you.

To Gojo’s credit, he really is doing his best, only a little less than a third but due to his length that's still a lot. 

Your eyes wander up to Gojo’s face and away from where he is wholly splitting you open, lest you clench on him even tighter and you knew you needed to relax. Even if you weren't really feeling much but the overwhelming strain from the tight fit, looking at Gojo you were happy that he appeared to be in bliss at least. 

His eyes still squeezed shut, mouth hanging open and spittle flowing down his jaw Gojo was in his own world as he continuously babbled nonsense about how perfect your cunt felt around him.

Just the tip in you for all of 20 seconds and already pussy drunk from just this much. 

“B-Bunny, Oh SHHIII–B-Bunny—m’cute Bun—FAH-ACK s’gud—m’gonna cum soon UHH–pussy feels s’good—oh-oh my god!” 

Although his entire body is quaking with pleasure, the few functional brain cells that survived the fiery blaze of your sinful lil’ pussy are still thinking of you. 

Gojo tries to give some attention to your neglected lil’ clit, but a single swipe causes your leg to jerk and you promptly push his hand away again.

“N-NO! Pleaseee, m’too sensitive Toru! J-Just focus on your thrusts! Y-You’re s’close, m’can feel your cock twitching i-i-inside me...”

Gojo wants to challenge you on this—suspecting from the way your cunt felt constricting around him you felt something pleasurable then—but he’s too far gone and much too inexperienced to keep focused on anything else. 

Especially when you are so explicitly describing him fucking you. 

Grabbing his face you bring your foreheads to touch to help calm him so he’d last a bit longer. Although you still hold his face to prevent him from kissing you, he's close enough that you're sharing the same breath, now looking into each other's eyes. 

He struggles to maintain eye contact though before the magnetism of your heated core had them rolling back again.

You're still not close to cumming, yet you are beginning to enjoy the warm comforting feeling of being this full as he holds you close, his short thrusts gaining momentum. 

Sharing intimacy with someone you actually cared about for once is really nice and you wouldn't mind having more sex like this even if you couldn't cum. 

Thumbing over Gojo’s moist lips you coo sweet praises to him as he desperately moans around your delicate appendage. Suckling your thumb between his lips and nursing on it until he can no longer contain the heavy breaths that overpower him and fan across your face. 

Sharing the same exhaled breath is making you light headed and you mewl at the keen sensations it stirs in your pussy that has him full on gasping now. Gojo releases the whiniest moan as he falls into you, unable to support his arms any longer. 

Showering your neck with open mouth kisses as his body curls more into yours.

However it all proves far too much when Gojo faltering more in his promise, slips more than halfway into your cunt—instantly filling the latex as it balloons inside of you as you scrape your heels against his back.

SHIIIIIT! He s’big! 

Despite nearly splitting your poor pussy into two at the end though, Gojo did such a good job for his first time. 

You’d forgive him just this once though as you wrapped your arms around his head, gently petting his undercut. His heaving breaths quiet under your soothing touches, finally ceasing the stream of his spit and tears that had been pooling in your collarbone.

Staying like that for a while holding him while his heartbeat calms to match yours and his length softens inside you. You close your eyes peacefully for a few moments before you hear your phone vibrate next to you. 

It's Shoko!

Shoko’s text apologizes for the delays and offers to get dinner instead—promising to go shopping with you and Utahime tomorrow since they got held up and you make plans for dinner in two hours. 

Perfect. That gives you plenty of time to clean up and get yourself presentable. 

“Did you cum even a lil bit, Bunny?”

Oh sweet baby, if you have to ask…You think to yourself but it's not poor Toru’s fault your pussy is out of order.

“Um, no Toru baby—but you did so well! Ya know you’re actually pretty cute and considerate when you get a little pussy. I’m sure you’ll manage to make any girl you happen to get naked happy!”

Gojo counters you with a disappointed look still panting slightly as he pulls out and rolls over bringing you towards him to cuddle. Allowing him, reasoning that you don’t have to get up right this second.

Yoour back meets his chest and it’s then you notice the condom still inside you. Figures since it was much too small in the first place. Yet you couldn’t complain as it managed to do its job due to Satoru not going all the way in. Breathing out you grimace a bit as you still had to give it a pretty good tug to lodge the filled latex out of your sore cunt. 

“Goddamn Toru, you were pretty backed up huh?”

Having witnessed the entire display from over your shoulder and the sight of the light blue rubber covered in your fluids while drooping heavily with his own has Gojo’s dick stirring again as you jiggle the rubber demonstrating its fullness before tossing it into the bin beside his bed. 

Conflicted Gojo broods for a while as he hugs you to him. 

While his body felt mostly satisfied, seeing you still unsatisfied put a huge damper on his mood. 

Sure you had told him you couldn’t come—but would any girl cum without much foreplay or stimulation? 

Even the darker hentais and JAVs he’s seen had more foreplay than this!

Hmmm... 

Thinking over the experience again in his mind he had a hunch that if right could cure your lack of orgasms but needed you to let him fuck you once more to be sure. 

“So you’re gonna hit and quit just like that, Bunny?”

He teases clinging onto you again when you try to maneuver out of his embrace.

“No time for more cuddles Toru—Shoko texted, we’re getting dinner in two hours.”

“Wait! Bunny! That’s so far away—Let me go again, pleeeease!”

Gojo is determined this time to make you cum for real! And, yeah you know—your slick heat sliding up and down his cock again would be a highlight too.

“Toru–”

“—Come on bunny! We solved my problem but we haven't fixed yours, you still haven't cum yet!”

“Toru, I thought we understood we were never going to solve my problem in the first place—so don't stress! Also I know this is probably the first time a girl has said this to you and actually meant it—but it's really not you!”

Gojo puts his negotiation face on. 

You wanted to play hardball? Bet.

“I’ll give you my black card for a whole week!”

Gojo turns you around to look him in the eye so you could see how sincere he was, he really wanted to try again—he knew he could make you cum this time!

You sighed. 

You couldn't really be mad at him—in fact, it was actually the cutest thing—that he wanted to keep trying for your benefit—but you didn’t see the point when it would just lead to the same result. You don’t even need to glance down to see Gojo’s cock was just as resolute as he’s already recovered and fully bricked—length pulsing against your ass. 

Well—given his last performance you were sure he’d last all of five minutes and if you had his black card for a whole week you were about to tear the entire Hermes store up—a Birkin and a Kelly in every color!

Hell, maybe you could even get the coveted baby pink ostrich one. 

“Mmm’kay, Toru—black card for a week! No limit!”

“Yup of course! Oooh no—Wait, no rubbers and I'll let you have my new g-wagon too! I hear raw sex is sooo much better you will cum for sure then Bunny!”

Well you knew a good bargain when you heard it.

Throwing the unopened condoms to the side you laid back down.

Imported European cars are stupid expensive to get in Japan and if he was coming off a g-wagon—especially as it was a custom powder blue matte with dune colored seats and shiny platinum rims—then he could have as many two-minute pump sessions as he wanted.

He’d likely pass out from dehydration in less than twenty tops anyway.

“Okay, but same rules as before except no cumming inside Toru! I mean it! It's too much of a mess to clean up after, it’ll be dripping all night especially all that you came last time…”

The thought of your gooey tender cunt weeping his nut for hours has Gojo’s balls tightening in want of making it a reality—but he knew if all went to plan you’d be begging for it! 

First—he needed you to take a more active role this time. He saw you settled back onto the pillows and that simply wouldn’t do. 

“Um Bunny, can you be on top? I-I’m dying to see what your cute tiddies look like jiggling all crazy like in my face.”

You cover your chest, frowning in offense at his more debauched ecchi preferences but you agreed nonetheless. 

Relenting as it’d likely have him cumming sooner and then you could finally get ready to meet the girls—all in your new g-wagon, although you’d definitely have to make up a lie as to how you scammed it out of Gojo.

Gojo takes your place on the pillows, amused as now it’s his turn to beckon you forward. Steeling yourself, you embarked on your climb to mount him. Tall and lean with wisps of hair sticking to his face Gojo looked more like he belonged in a painting, unnerving you that a face only an artist could sculpt admired your body with his lustful gaze. 

He was too sexy for his own nerdy ass good like this and you failed not to whimper when his strong hands settled at your waist.

Lube in your hand you smirk, gaining some confidence back when you hear Gojo hiss as the cool gel once again spreads down his fiendish girth that pulses restlessly at your touch. The sensation is all the more agonizing without the latex barrier hindering him as your, your silky smooth palm glided over his bare cock before tugging back the sensitive foreskin covering his crown head. 

Licking your lips you almost want to bend down and taste the pre marbling like a pearlescent jewel on his pretty exposed cockhead.

He’d probably cry like a baby if you did, you mused with a grin. 

Good God girl snap out of it! 

You chastise yourself—no, you had to focus and end this quickly before you lost your mind. The idea of fucking Gojo beyond what he could buy for you started to get more appealing and you couldn’t allow that.

Readying yourself to mount him this time you realize your pussy is quivering in anticipation of the stretch—it was uncomfortable last time so—why was your body reacting this way?

Your own pussy betraying you as she seemed to yearn for the opportunity to gobble him up, taking him in with less resistance in spite of you. Flexing around the thick intrusion inside your core you shiver in feeling the curve of every vein on his girthy cock as you lowered yourself onto him.

The way your pussy flexed as a jolt of electricity ran through you scared you—a new sensation bubbling up inside, threatening to make you lose yourself in the feeling.  Must be survival instincts you rationed—your cunt scared for its life never having encountered such an acute danger like Gojo’s dick before.

The burn was pleasurable this time, sucking in sharp breaths at every slight movement of him moving inside your core. Yet Gojo is in even more bliss—from the serpentine motion of your hips cascading over his own to how your your puffy pussy lips looked so wonderfully parted, stretched open around his cock—FUCK!

How was he going to complete his plan if his brain just started turning to mush everytime your dangerously succulent cunt grinded against him.

“O–ooo shiiiiiit!”

“Y-You okay, Bunny?”

Although Gojo himself looked like he was in agony his face was reddening from how good your raw gummy walls were surging around his length.

“Hhnng, fine Toru—y’er j-just big.” 

Gravity was your natural enemy in this scenario and you took him a bit past halfway this time.

Wanting to distract you, his large hands grope your tits but you knock him away—your stomach fluttering. 

“What's wrong, this time?”

“...s’n-nothing, it’s—just put your hands on my hips, it helps me so my legs don't get tired.”

You lied.

Well your legs were quivering but more pressingly your heart started to race and you didn't know if it was because a cock like this could actually relocate your uterus to your lungs or if you’d actually started catching something similar to romantic feelings for Gojo Satoru. 

Either one was unacceptable in your book.

“Hurry up and cum, Toru!” 

However Gojo is about to say something, your phone rings.

“I-Its Utahime…”

“Don’t answer Bunny! Focus or you’re never going to cum!”

“I can multitask, Toru! Besides, on the small chance I do I know it's definitely going to take longer than the two minutes you lasted before.” 

Hushing Gojo’s protests and eyes flaring at him to be silent, you answer the call. 

“Bunny!”

“Hime!”

You greeted each other with your usual peppiness—like Gojo wasn’t 6 and a half inches deep with 2 and half more to go—give or take—inside you.

“What’s up? Oh erm, what am I doing—”

A sly and haughty smile plays on his lips and you scowl at him.

“—I’m still at Gojo’s and no—I’m not doing much at all right now! Haha—yeah. I can definitely talk, of course!”

Gojo frowns as his eyes narrow and to placate him you start half heartedly rotating your hips.

You still looked sexy as hell though. Even with less effort expended it was still a workout as shown by the sheen of perspiration glowing off your body. That delectable sight combined with the light swaying of your tiddies was more than enough for him to cum if he just focused on himself.

But he was determined not to this time, not until you had.

“See Toru? They were helping Shoko’s parents!”

You stick out your tongue and he makes a face back at you.

“Oh what?—s’nothing—Ha! Well ok! He said you were too busy bumping pussies to go to the mall with me! Psh—typical am I rite? Huh—put you on speaker? LOL O-OKAY.”

Snitch! 

Gojo mouths to you offended you’d rat him out like this as Utahime’s voice shrills through the phone.

“Satoru you loser! You have to talk about our pussies cause you could never have one of your own in a million years!”

Snorting with laughter Gojo is more than amused. 

If only they knew.

You pale signaling at him to ‘STFU’ or he could finish himself off.

“Aww, is that so Utahime? I’m so hurt.” 

The mischief in Gojo’s voice is obvious—he’s clearly mocking you.

Annoyed with him getting the upper hand and feeling sassy, you pile on—

“Exactly Hime! I mean he might get some—but a total otaku like him wouldn’t know what to do with a pussy if he even ever got in—EEP!”

A heavy handed smack comes down on your ass—hard. 

The force ripples its way into your cunt causing you to feverishly tighten as your tongue pushes a low moan out between your lips.

“Oh ho ho—what's this? You actually like getting spanked huh, Bunny? You dirty, dirty girl…” 

Gojo is whispering again before his hand once more swats at that same cheek.

The sting causes saliva to pool in the corners of your mouth. 

If looks could kill Gojo would have died a horrible death—that is if you could focus enough to even glare at him. You’re absolutely mortified—too consumed by the spanks that fiercely rained down on your reddening bottom, your pussy getting shamelessly wetter with every hit.

“AH–FAHHH—”

“Bunny! What’s happened?!”

You hear Shoko’s concerned voice this time.

“N-N-Nothing, G-Gojo’s being mean to me cause I told on him! H-He pinched me so hard Shoko!”

“Liar!”

Gojo mouths again and his demeanor turns absolutely devilish. 

Oh? So that's how you wanted to continue to play? 

You were such a brat sometimes but then again so was he and his competitive nature soared at the challenge.

“Oh did I? Like this, Bunny?”

Gojo’s  palms cup your tits roughly before he pinches them, twisting your nipples causing the slobber that collected to dribble down your chin and onto your chest.

“Shiiii—T-Toru! S-STOP YOU A-AHHH–SSHOLE!!”

The grip his thumb and forefingers have on your sensitive buds intensifies and you can barely keep the phone in your grasp as you hold it out arm extended to keep your cries from being heard. 

With only one hand free there’s no way for you to worm nor pry his hands from your tits as you are still struggling not to sink lower and choke on your own tongue from the electrifying sensations assaulting your cunt.

This couldn’t be what it was like could it? This overwhelming feeling?

You didn’t want to admit it but as tear-inducing as the sensations were—they felt real fucking good. 

Your hips began involuntary rocking as your core now craved how Gojo’s cock scraped against your walls like it was trying to carve itself even deeper inside you if you’d let your hips drop just a little bit lower. 

“Toru! Stop picking on our Bunny! Don’t make us come over there and kick your ass!”

The sweat that now runs down Gojo’s brow threatens to blur his vision but he’s locked in and focused. The phone situation being so fucking raunchy combined with the way your pussy is creaming on him (despite you trying your hardest not to feel good) has him stressed. 

Swallowing he had to try hard to keep up the act as well as please you without cumming—it would be a feat if he accomplished it to say the very least.

God, this was all so shamefully vulgar. 

Did you do this on purpose answering the phone? 

He didn’t even know this was a kink of his—or yours apparently.

But your “problem” was now clear to Gojo:

It’s not that you couldn’t cum, it’s just that you were scared to cum. 

Any real stimulation triggered your fight or flight. 

You were perfectly capable, you just needed a bit of forcefulness—however the effect of it terrified you and you bolted from it every time you had sex with someone—until now. 

Heh, there would be no more running from the nut for his little bunny rabbit.

Gojo wonders how far into his ecchi depravity he can take you.

“Your Bunny, huh?”

Gojo's eyes squinted as if he could stare down Shoko and Utahime through the phone.

You were his. 

He was the one who was going to make you cum and frankly he didn’t give a fuck anymore if Shoko or Utahime heard it—in fact he wanted them too.

Planting his feet into the bed, Gojo’s form shifts as he swiftly grips your waist simultaneously bringing you down while driving his pelvis up—pummeling his entire length into your guts. The prickly patch of groomed hair at his base tickles your poor abused lil’ clit which had been forcibly nestled into them—the result of being smashed against his pubic bone. 

“FUHCCCK—MUTHERFUHH—SHHHH–HIIIIIT!!!” 

Vision momentarily blacked out and burning with tears mixed with your running mascara, your pussy still reeling from the sheer magnitude of Gojos long girthly length now all the way sheathed and practically tearing through your womb. Your eyes are firmly lodged in the back of your head, the electrifying vibrations cause you to drop the phone entirely. Your world is spinning from experiencing your first small orgasm that only increased intensity as your efforts to escape Gojo are in vain. 

Your cervix is screaming at the probing intrusion of his bulbous tip ramming so far up into you but Gojo has you anchored to him unable to flee from his onslaught of thrusts.

If you could string together a coherent thought you would have wondered if in fact your stomach had been relocated next to your lungs as you felt so full you couldn’t breathe. 

Your pussy violently spasms around his girth, creamy fluids seeping down onto his base from your cunt sloshing around him.  Gojo grips your cheeks spreading you wider increasing the squelching noises echoing from your cunt.

Shit though, Gojo thinks your perfect pussy might actually break his dick off from how fervently you were clenching him. 

Tongue fully lolled out of your mouth, you’re grasping onto Gojo’s shoulders for stability as your saliva drips down his pectorals.

“BUNNY!! Are you still there?? What’s that noise?”

Shoko and Utahime’s calls for you go unanswered. Gojo on the other hand is grinning, albeit through gritted teeth, pleased at how his long trunk-like cock is rendering you nonverbal. 

“Hehe, you definitely came a bit that time didn’t ya—ya nasty lil’ Bunny, don’t lie.” 

“N-N-Nooo T-Toru–s’like I-I c-can’t breathe—”

“Heh, a’course you can baby Bun—that's what it feels like when you cum, even I know that.”

SMACK!

Another firm smack to your ass has your cunt quivering wildly.

You feel like the virgin in this situation now—and honestly—are you not? 

Did those other dicks really count? 

It felt like you were having sex for the first time as this was a totally different experience even from the earlier round with Gojo.

“Don’t worry though, now that I know what kinda shit you’re into—I’mma take care of that pervy lil’ princess pussy sooo good, Bunny.”

Oh god—That couldn’t be true could it? 

Spanking? Nipple twisting? Having your insides pushed up to your throat? 

You didn’t actually like this kinda freaky shit did you?

Yet your body’s reactions remain true even if your mind doesn't want to accept the cause of the fire that is burning within you. Your pussy is in raptures at the feeling of being molded into the exact shape of Gojo’s cock—veins and all.

“HELLLOOOOO BUNNY!!!!”

Absolutely pleased with himself Gojo retrieves the phone.

“Awe p-poor thing, just stubbed her toe runnin’ from me. My—SHIII–room is—FUHHH—k-kinda a m-mess—S-See? I almost tripped just now too. Isn’t that right Bunny?”

Gojo brings the phone closer and you bat it away wishing he would just hang up and spare you the humiliation. Although humiliation seemed to be your new kink as mirroring his earlier actions as you’re pathetically moaning into his skin. Gojo’s masculine scent, mingled with the salty aroma of perspiration, floods your senses, making you feel even more lightheaded, increasing the sloshing of his cock buried deep in your cunt.

The crude noises that rang from your bodies squelching and slapping against each other renders Gojo unable to keep up the charade either. Making up a quick excuse—he has to go get ice for your toe—he quickly hangs up on Shoko and Utahime whose puzzled protests of concern he couldn’t give a single fuck about anymore. 

God fucking you while on the phone with them was so fucking hot, he’d have to get you to do it again—maybe with Suguru next time, he’d probably even be into it.

“Hey B-Bunny—y-you think Shoko and Hime were naked too?”

You groan.

This fucking hentai otaku perv—you already told him that they were helping Shoko’s parents! 

You want to glare, scream, chastise, get up—but you can’t—you’re at the mercy of him ruthlessly drilling up into your cunt and can only heave out tired mewls in reply.

“Fuuuck–imma cum again soon! Do you feel the way your naughty lil’ cunt is squeezing like she wants to wring me dry, wan’t me to give it all to your pussy Bunny?”

“N-Not i-inside m’pussy, T-Toru!” 

A devious smirk appears. 

Heh, yeah he promised not inside your pussy.

Without warning Gojo rips his cock out from your sopping core and manhandles you onto your back. Thinking he will simply cum outside somewhere you're finally able to breathe again and you exhale—only to feel his monstrous length being shoved down your throat.

Your eyes shoot open. 

Greeted with the image of Gojo's heavy balls in your face, his ball hairs tickle your nose as you gag around his girth straining your throat open wide. You think if he didn’t reach your lungs through your guts he certainly would now that he’s eight and a half inches down your esophagus.

“You said i couldn’t cum in your pussy Bunny, so let’s use that pretty lil’ mouth pussy instead—sweet fuck, ya know she’s almost tighter than your actual cunt.”

Your hands fly to the outside of his thighs pawing over the sweat glossed skin as you drag your nails down them, leaving welts in an effort to get him to ease up. The potent musk of your shared lust that had dripped down his balls was now rubbing on your face assaulting your senses. 

It was fucking nasty, so gross and yet your own pussy betrayed you—burning with an ache to be filled again at the smells that stimulated your own primal hedonistic urges.

“Awe, don’t be like that. I know you like it rough, yeah? I haven’t forgotten about you either baby.”

Gojo of course at this point isn’t talking to you but your cunt.

With one hand squeezing your already constricted airway, Gojo’s other snaked its way over your body and reeling it back before delivering a mean open palmed slap to your clit. 

The sound of your soaked cunt echoed through his room and he almost came from that alone as your fluids trickled out of you faster, further soiling his expensive sheets.

“This pussy likes being spanked more than those cherry cheeks of yours huh, Bunny? I know my filthy hentai pussy does.”

You’re obviously unable to answer but the way you’re gurgling moans around his cock lets him know this is exactly what you like. Thrusting two thick fingers into your quivering core his burly appendages bullied themselves in as far as they could go. 

“You know—G-God, FUCK you’re tight—Bunny, you know I read in an h-manga how girls can squirt from a lack of air and a little bit of prodding, s’ppose—S-SHIII—t’be something in here that sends em absolutely wild.”

Fingers searching deeper it's not until Gojo pulls back to add a third that he scrapes past a firm spongy spot that has your legs buckling.

Astonished by the amazingly sexy reactions of your body—Gojo’s eyes are blown out wide over how much your clit swells, your hole twitches and your juices spurt out of you as your tears run over your cheeks to wet his balls further. Gojo doesn’t even need to thrust as your throat tightens around him like crazy with him jamming his fingers into that particular spot over and over.

Lost in your own ecstasy you’re proven wrong as contrary to your belief you thought his otaku sex-ed would be to his detriment to his skills. However it's exactly because of all of the lecherous and depraved shit he collected and consumed did he know exactly what to do to you now that got you all messed up. Eyes lodged into your skull, squirting and practically blacking out with his dick stuffed down your throat on his long dexterous fingers abusing your cunt.

“SHIIIIIIT—”

With a keen grunt Gojo cums, pumping loads of viscous fluid down your throat forcing you to gorge on his thick cum. 

“F-Fuck Bunny are you a throat goat? M-Milked me dry...”

He’s still driving his pliable fingers in and out of you, his arms are shaking from his own orgasm but he doesn’t care. Nothing on earth could stop him from replicating the beautiful sight of your pretty lil’pussy spurting out juices that run all the way down his forearm.

“…heh, looks like I can milk you too, Bunny.”

Gojo finally dislodges his dick out of your throat but still runs a hand through your pussy folds to rub soothing circles on your clit. You whimper through your coughs as you spit up some of his cum, still gagging after what were mere minutes but seemed like hours of choking on his beefy cock.

Vision spotty, tremors run through your body—both ends so thoroughly fucked out—that it doesn’t register that Gojo is once again lifting your body bringing you towards the edge of the bed.

If you thought Gojo was going to give you aftercare from having used your body like one of his anime fleshlights, you’d be correct—but not before one last round. 

Lifting your hips off his luxe bed Gojo positions your wobbly legs on his shoulders. His eyes are blown out and crazed with his own twisted perversion. Weakened and spent himself as cock twitched from overstimulation but he’s never been a quitter—determined to make you cum again and again before one of you finally passes out.

Your toes wiggle and you keen as his tongue ravenously dips between your toes. Trailing his tongue past the arch of your foot to bite your heel.

“You’re so fucking sexy, Bunny—the best pussy in the whole world, how could you ever think she was broken? You were just waiting for me to use her huh?”

“S-shut up–Toru, j-jeez…”

Your windpipes had been fucked raw and you’re croaking which to your dismay only seems to turn Gojo on more and he’s tapping his tender engorged cockehead on your clit. Your brows pinch together as you bite back moans from his frenulum catching and chafing so wonderfully over your clitoral hood.

“Puhleaseeee, Honey Bunny! Let me fuck you a bit more now that we know you are as ecchi coded as I am, m’kay my pervy princess?”

The very thought shames you and you think your heart might seize from embarrassment if it doesn’t give out from pleasure first and your heart feels like it might beat out of your chest chest from all the pet names Gojo is bestowing upon you. 

“Toru…”

You try to reason with him through your defeated huffs as you press your legs shut together.

“...y-you made me cum from your fingers n’ your cock.. Y-You won. Pleaseee—I-I don’t even think I can cum any more.” 

Not convinced Gojo pushes your legs back.

“Oh, is that right? Let’s ask her then!”

Gojo delivers another smack onto your slippery pussy as if on the command of her new owner your obedient cunt immediately leaks a bit more creamy slick onto his palm.

“See, baby? She says you can though and that she’s tired of you running from it Bunny—”

Still hugging your legs together in his grasp, Gojo lowers himself to rub his cheek against your pussy like it was his favorite pillow. 

“Don’t fret my pervy lil’ pussy I won't let Bunny deprive you any longer from what you really need.”

You groan yet Gojo is more gentle this time as he gingerly rolls you onto your belly and lifts your hips to slide his giant Agumon pillow underneath.

Urgh, did it have to be this one!?

There's no time for complaints though once Gojo spreads your cheeks wide. A glob of spit hits your crack as his thumb prods against your shy puckering rear hole while he humps his cock between the fat of your thighs through your soggy swollen folds. 

“Shiiit imma fuck this tight lil’ bunny hole next time baby, m’kay?”

The threat causes you to shudder yet all your back talk and sass is gone from his illicit preparations as he elicits heady mewls from your hoarse throat. Your cunt flutters eagerly to have him fill you again as his fingers imprint themselves into your bottom.

The anticipation is so intense as bracing for his size ripping through you you nearly fail to notice Gojo is now humming to himself—humming—THE DIGIMON CHAMPIONS THEME SONG!?

OH HE HAD YOU ALL THE WAY FUC—

—And suddenly you’re screaming again, eyes glued to the back of your skull as his hips jerk forward, drilling his dick past your walls to pound directly into your cervix with the tempo of a  madman.

OH FUCK! …s’good!

You finally surrender letting your cunt control your brain as you throw ass back to meet his frenzied thrusts. Like a drug addict from the first real taste your pussy is already addicted to the feeling of his cock destroying you.

“S’toru–S’toru–S’toru–FUHHHHCK!”

His name fell from your lips like a mantra, the only word your brain—now thoroughly fucked smoothed—could remember.

The sight of you chasing your own pleasure as your ass slammed back onto his pelvis, your skin rippling as it bounced and splashed frothy fluids onto his abs sent him further into perverse degeneracy. 

“F-Fuck Bunny—baby, this pussy too good—We can’t tell Suguru for a while, kay? He’ll want to fuck you too and this pussy is just f’me. Suguru gets all the pussy s’tell me you’ll keep yours f’er me. Thought you were broken but you just needed my cock this whole time—”

Burying your face in the sheets bashfully at the mention of Suguru, your cunt pulls more taut around Gojo’s cock.

“—FUHH, g-go out with me yeah, Bunny? Love you s’much—SHIIIIT—buy you whatever you want—t-take you where you want—this dick s’yours Bun Bun—all yours!”

Plunging into deeper if it were even possible Gojo’s blunted nails drug into the fat of your ass and hips, it wouldn’t scar but it would certainly add to the inevitable bruising. 

“I’ll never even look at a non 2D woman again as long as I have you as my lil’ onahole—shit I’ll never even buy one of those again unless it's in the shape of your pussy—F-FUCK, w-wait–y-you think we could get one made in the shape of your pussy–my girlfriend’s perfect pussy?!”

It’s too much—too overwhelming and your mind is slowly but surely being corrupted by Gojo. Otherwise the image of him whining while fucking a onahole casted from your cunt as he watches you finger yourself would have never in a million years popped into your mind. 

Determined to see you unhinged in every respect, Gojo didn’t want to deny you pleasure but if he had to be a little mean to you so you could finally be honest with him then so be it. 

Slowly pulling out, your expression is near frantic as you look back at him. Your mouth gaping and babbling nonsensically for him not for him to stop—you were so close.

Gojo simpers, relishing in your cute cockdrunk face scrunched with confusion from him pulling out so suddenly. 

“W-Words baby, c’mon I just spilled my heart out here!”

Your pussy weeps longingly for Gojo’s cock as your body shakes with a yearning begging to be filled again. 

God help you, you want him. 

You want him and his sinfully curved demon dick badly, it’s all you could think about—Not even remembering what life was like before he so perversely rearranged your guts.  However, not only did he know how to hit all your spots, he knew you—and despite him completely disregarding all of the rules you had initially set, he was the first guy who actually cared about how you felt during sex, even if he was a perverted otaku.

There was simply no use in denying it any longer. 

You caved.

Tears streaming down your face as you hiccupped your admission of affections for him, red-faced and flustered.

“S’toru, I-I’ll be your girlfriend—need you n’need your cock s’much—”

Pressing the side of your face against the mattress you bring a shaky hand through your legs, fingers slipping over your slick as you part your pussy lips—your vacant core exposed and fluttering, begging for him just as hard.

“—m’also you’re onahole T-Toru, I promise i’ll only fuck you, j-just please keep fucking me, i wanna cum on your cock, want your cum in me Toru baby!”

You might die from the shame of it all once you sober up from being utterly cockdrunk and stupefied but all you could think about right now was Gojo’s hard dick laying heavy pipe back into your cunt.

Something snaps in Gojo.

Head over heels for you now, Gojo knew from that moment on he’d never let you go. 

Real or 2D—no could compare to you in Gojo’s eyes. 

Toru finally found something he loved more than digimon—your perfect lil’pussy.

And he was going to show her how much he loved her right now.

Taking what was so graciously presented to him this time around, you’re short circuiting once he’s finally inside you again your most base needs being satiated turning you into a cockfiendish whore crying for him to fuck you harder as you grip his sheets like you could rip them apart. 

His strokes become more merciless, unrelenting on your pussy and Gojo leans his weight onto your back, legs bent crouching on top of you, his hips becoming manic they thrashed forward in short heavy thrusts to hammer you into the mattress.

Gojo himself is beyond gone. 

Disregarding all promises of mentioning otaku shit while he was wrecking your cunt.  

“Fuck bunny this feels better then what I thought Agnewomon’s pussy would be like— you'd look so sexy in that cosplay. Gonna have you dress up for me and show you off at cons. I’ll buy you whatever you want, anything, the whole fucking world yeah? Just fuck—wear those those vibrating panties while you cosplay too, you’d like that?”

You tightened groaning at his debauchery, something that was not missed at all by Gojo who by this point had fucked his own self dumb in your angelic cunt. White strands of his hair stuck to both of your faces as he tiled your head back so he could see how desperately those little hearts danced in your dilated pupils before they were reduced to nothing more than mere splotches whiting out your vision.

“Fuck u really are a slut huh bunny? Tightening at the thought of all those otaku perverts looking at you in that skimpy outfit while I control the buzzing on that lil clit. But they can’t have you—m’the only otaku pervert that knows how to make you cum!”

Delirious with melodic honeyed cries spilling from you, you just wanted him to stop talking—pointing out every single time your body responded to his ecchi tastes becoming your tastes and now just yearning for a taste of him. 

Reaching back you’re pulling him down to smash your lips together. Messy, but you could care as Gojo tried to swallow your tongue fucking his own into your mouth with a force that matched his cock. If fucking you was heaven then kissing you was nirvana—he’d give you the whole world if he could keep fucking you like this forever.

Gojo needs you to cum again soon as the feral need breed your tummy until it swells with his seed has him losing the little sanity he even had to begin with. A virgin until today he’d saved up so much waiting for your tight cunt this whole time. 

Moving his lips away from yours only for air, your chest heaves harmonies cries from his hand weaving under your bodies. Jittery fingers swiped frantically over your clit, hurling you towards your euphoric climax as his lips descend back upon yours.

“Cum Bunny—I got ya baby.”

Deliberately plowing himself harder against your cervix, your body seizes up releasing tension into pure white energy that you swore was pumping through your every vein as an extension of your pussy as his heavy load spurts to paint your walls and sear your insides as his thrusts continue to swill his seed inside you, pushing it further into your womb—-thank fuck for birth control.

However that was the last thing you remember before you go limp, temporarily blacked out as you swear you’ve transcended to a celestial plane of existence. One where all slutted out souls went to escape from the unearthly pleasure they’ve been tortured by. You don’t know how long you’ve been out but you're squirming as you come back to consciousness. Realizing your now back on your back as your hips involuntarily rocking against something thick and wet. 

When you finally manage to open your eyes you're greeted by Gojo tongue slurping at your clit and lapping up the cum oozing out of your battered hole like it was a refreshingly creamy bowl of kakigori. His hands embedded themselves into your thighs pinning them to the bed nibbling on your clit and having your already overstimulated core climaxing on his tongue once more.

Strings of your sticky nectar connect his tongue to your cunt as he looks up at you. Having the audacity to grin lovingly at you as if he didn’t look like a downright starved and deranged man with a sheen of shared fluids dribbling down his chin. He’s pussy drunk once again this time buzzed off the pungent yet sweet taste of his cum marinating in your creamy tenderized cunt.  

Gojo is cheesin’ at you like he’s found his favorite spot in the world—and he had as far as he was concerned.

“You said it was too messy, remember Bunny? The least I can do to make it up to you is scoop every drop out of your runny lil’ cunt with my tongue! What kind of boyfriend would I be to have all this cum soaking my Bunny’s slutty little thong and spilling down her thighs while out to dinner—so I decided to have mine a little early.”

FUCKING HELL—DINNER! What time was it?! 

Disordented, your head is fuzzy and you could feel the soreness settling in your muscles. You didn’t think you’d be able to get out of this bed in the next 24 hours, let alone make it to dinner—if you hadn’t already missed it! 

“Nnnn, n-not like I can go anymore Toru, s’all your f-fault!”

Your bruised lips poke out into pout. Gojo chuckles at you how cute you look and he rises up from between your thick thighs to boop you on the nose as he gazes adoringly at you.

“I know princess m’sorry—I already texted Shoko saying you couldn’t, don’t worry~~”

But your eyes widened as you were now fully worried. 

Worried as to what the fuck Gojo actually texted them! 

“T-Toru—”

“—I just told them you weren’t feeling well, was that okay?”

Quickly assuaging your fears—you can relax a bit for now (although you were sure you’d have a lot of explaining to do later) as Gojo pulls you to him again and softly kisses your neck, hands returning to your ass to rub soothing circles on your chaffed skin. 

Relaxing again floods sleep into your eyes. A welcome godsend honestly, so you can process everything that just happened, especially Gojo aggressively fucking a love confession out of you. 

“And m’sorry if I got carried away Bun… but you were so good for me, so fucking perfect! Just relax and I’ll take care of you! I’ll handle everything—for you and your nasty lil’ cunt. I love you both and I’ll keep both my pretty girls happy forever! I promise!”

Gazing at you with cartoonishly sparkling eyes, you have to look away from Gojo lest your ears altogether burn up in embarrassment from his shameless and yet a hundred percent earnest vocalization of affections that somehow still got your heart racing.

“—oh and my parents will be here tomorrow—we can tell them right? They will be so excited! They've been telling me since I was little I shouldn’t let you get away! Ooo! Ooo! Maybe now that we're dating they’ll let us use their sex dungeon! We need to think of a safe word though Bunny—”

Scarcely comprehending anything he is saying to you, your mind like your pussy had been fully liquified. Both ruthlessly corrupted by Gojo’s long otaku cock and pervy ass fantasies which is no surprise seeing as his family even owns a—

HOL’ THE ENTIRE FUCKUP—A SEX DUNGEON!?

Like a shot of caffeine directly into your veins your eyes nearly pop out of your head as you blink at him dumbfounded, mouth hanging open.  

“Doesn’t that sound fun, Bunny!? My parents are so cool! When I turned 18 my dad even gave me some of his rare and one-of-a-king hentai figures for my collection to get me started and then—”

Tuning him out you’re gagged at the unexpected revelations—and his parents always seemed like such charming n’ decent God fearing people too. Well known to be ruthless in the business world, but upstanding global philanthropists nonetheless.

Well the apple sure as hell didn’t fall too far from the sordid sex fiend tree, that was for damn sure!

Clearly you had no idea what you were getting yourself into or had unleashed by agreeing to be Gojo’s girlfriend. I mean, could no longer deny your growing feelings for him—plus he did just give you multiple back-breaking-terrifyingly-mind-numbing-earth-shattering-orgasms. Not to mention, you would definitely be getting one of every Hermes bag ever made if you wanted one—but at what cost?

Your Dignity? 

Self-respect? 

The right to call yourself a functional and contributing non-degenerate member of society?

Who knows really…

Although perhaps dating a Gojo, the next heir at that, you’d be too rich and highly regarded for people to even care (we’ll except for your friends giving y’all hell but you could eventually make peace with that).

You internally groan as the gentle touches on your bottom morph into lustful gropes and you know your brand new boyfriend would not be granting rest for your totally demolished lil’ pussy anytime soon unless you could distract him a bit.

“—Toru, Toru baby listen, please.”

Interrupting him, you muster the energy to put on the sweetest face you can manage in your exhausted state. 

And of course, Gojo, as always and yet unknowingly, tests the limits of your tolerance.

“Yes, my whittle Bunny, my kinky baby girl—hentai goddess divine?”

Gojo nuzzles your nose in an eskimo kiss as he showers you with ‘loving compliments’. 

Scrunching your face, you grit your teeth through your already weak smile to stop yourself from losing it at him referring to you as ‘hentai goddess divine’—y’all would definitely be having a talk about that as well as appropriate in-public pet names later though.

“Babyyyyy—I’m so sticky and sore, why don’t you be a good boyfriend and get stuff ready for us to take a bath, hm? Maybe find me something else to wear too, hm?”

You did need a bath and you calculated even with his energetic disposition it should take him at least 15-20 minutes to delegate the tasks and get everything together considering how huge his mansion was.

“Oh! Of course, of course! Just wait here! I’ll be right back, my ecchi angel.”

Brow-twitching you sit up to wave at him with another strained smile as he scrambles to put on pants and heads out of his room.

You sigh tiredly and make yourself comfy on his cloud like pillows. 

Thinking he’s finally left and you can savor some much needed time to make peace with what you got yourself into by agreeing to be the girlfriend of an otaku nerd like Gojo Satoru—

—when his head suddenly peaks back in the room with a sheepish look on his face.

“Heh, you know Bunny, was thinking—you really didn’t think I could code crack your cute lil’ cunt now did ya?”

Your eyes are closed but your fists are balling angrily gripping onto the pillows surrounding you.

“Don’t worry Bunny, yours is the only pussy my dick is digidestined for!”

With that, Gojo narrowly avoids the Agumon pillow plushie that is swiftly hurled at his head as he dashes away from the door, his merry yet hysterical laughter echoing through the halls.

©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

⏭ a/n: this fic was wayyyy too long but i've been kinda mean to y'all gojo glazers lately rejoicing in your sorrows cause you are now miserable like the rest of us lmfao, so consider this y'alls bone :P tbh im kinda surprised this is the first full gojo fic i've written lol, it was fun tho cause otaku!gojo is a freak for pussy would drive you insane in all the right and wrong ways. i still have invisible man gojo and ceo/professor gojo planned tho (plus that frat boy satosugu request).

eta: serieslist

reblogs and comments are my life's blood ty ᥫ��� .ᐟ

[somnoir]

My father's secretary

Danny Fenton did not expect to be secretary material but after 7 years of being a hero and having Jazz as his elder sister, he was damn good at it. He needed a job, he knew that, and Wayne Enterprises was willing to hire a 21 year old taking online college classes for aerospace engineering.

And he was fucking thankful for that cause Mr. Wayne was pretty neat and bought him good food and coffee whenever he looked out of it. Half his family were already in Gotham with only his parents in Amity. They were finally reformed and now their research finally advocated for the rights of ghosts and spread awareness on their culture. Good for them.

Jazz and Dante were in Arkham working as a psychologist and guard. Elle was still in school, enrolled into Gotham Academy once Vlad insisted on paying her tuition. To be fair, he was paying for Danny's tuition too.

But back to his secretary duties. His boss was Bruce Wayne, yes, but he did often work with the man's son and the current CEO. Tim was nice and had the same caffeine addiction as him. (Jazz highly discouraged this friendship in case they both made a monstrosity of coffee and energy drinks.)

But Mr. Wayne was the best. He was rather clumsy and a bit airheaded but he was the best fucking boss he could ever ask for. The man's paternal instincts were on point and Danny was almost intimidated when the man started handing him extra cash whenever Danny came to the office looking more tired than usual. When that failed, Mr. Wayne resorted to giving him more material things.

Now, he doesn't want to take advantage of this ridiculously kind man with a lack of self preservation (God, was this what Jazz felt about him?). But Mr. Wayne had given him this amazing coffee maker and then proceeded to give Danny the best toaster ever. And Danny has always been known to resolutely be against Billionaires adopting him. But Mr. Wayne?

Danny had honed his back talking skills to perfection to talk down arrogant elites that kept demanding for his boss. He mastered his customer service voice and that condescending look he saw the receptionists give people like they were tantruming toddlers. Danny was ready to fight for that man (Vlad was choking somewhere as the Fentons worriedly look at him).

Jason has heard about Danny Fenton a couple of times. Tim, Dick, and Bruce had mentioned him a lot. Bruce's new secretary that looked like he'd woken up from a coma and was comparable to a grumpy cat on his best days. He's seen the guy a couple times, noticed how he was almost as tall as Jason. Honestly, he kinda looked like a twig (but then that was because of Danny's suit that he made sure didn't completely fit him).

Seriously. Danny was willing to fucking fight anyone and everyone for Bruce Wayne.

The guy was strange. Very strange. Especially when the pits seemed to either become frantic or calm whenever he was around. It depended on the situation really, but mostly the pits grew calmer around Fenton. Like a cat that finally saw its favorite person. It was so weird.

He was drawn to Fenton, sometimes finding himself walking towards the man before he snaps out of it.

It's on this day where Danny was by Bruce's side, a stylus and tablet in hand. He was furiously tapping away at his phone, cursing under his breath about bothersome and stuck up cialiteses.

"Jason!" Bruce happily greets, "Don't mind Danny for a bit. He's telling of some investors for trying to meddle with the company. Tim is too sleep deprived to handle it."

"Where is Tim?"

"Danny threatened to throw the company's coffee maker out the window if he doesn't take a nap." Bruce chuckles, glancing fondly at his fiesty secretary. "Danny?"

"Give me a minute, Mr. Wayne. Some people are trying to squeeze into your schedule when I specifically told them that they can't." Danny says, clearly irritated but looks at Bruce with an apologetic gaze. "No—Mr. Luthor, neither Mr. Drake nor Mr. Wayne are available on that day—"

And it dissolved into Danny telling of what Jason assumes was Lex Luthor to stop his attempts. In other words, corporate for Fuck off.

"He's good, isn't he?" Jason humms as he follows Bruce down the hall, glancing at the tired employees that looked utterly exhausted and horrifically motivated. "Looks like adoption bait."

"Unfortunately, Danny is a very much against Billionaires adopting him. His godfather is one and has attempted multiple times." Bruce sighs, feigning a sorrowful look as he sends Danny a small pout. "What did you do when he tried the fifth time again?"

"I blew up his car, Mr. Wayne." Danny nonchalantly says, "But that only made him want to adopt me more."

Jason blinks, baffled before he's laughing at the utter absurdity of the situation.

"That sounds similar to—"

Gunshots tore through the air as people immediately screamed. At the entrance of the building was the Joker in all his insanity, guns blazing. Jason froze, sucking in a deep breath as he took one step back. They weren't in costume, they weren't the Red Hood and Batman in that moment.

"Nightwing, Robin, and Spoiler are on their way." Oracle says through the comms but that doesn't comfort him in the slightest.

It's chaos in moments and people are ducking their heads to avoid the bullets. Jason and Bruce look right at each other, taking cover as bullets ruin the walls and furniture. But Bruce is dragged from his spot, pulled towards the Joker who laughs maniacally as he pressed a gun against Bruce's head.

"Mr. Wayne!" Many people yell as they all stared in horror as the Joker threatens Gotham's beloved prince.

Jason immediately remembers an explosion and a crowbar.

(Reminder, Danny Fenton was very much ready to go to war for Bruce Wayne).

A tablet and a stylus was suddenly shoved into his arms. Jason blinks, turning to Danny who tugs at his tie and rummages through the counter for something. The Joker sees this, clearly irritated.

"You! Eyes on me!" The Joker practically demands, hysterical that not everyone was paying attention.

Danny apparently doesn't give a damn before looking the Joker straight in the eye.

"Eyes in me." Danny repeats.

A second later something was thrown and a cutter was cutting through the Joker's eye.

Jason gaped at the seemingly harmless secretary, unable to comprehend that this man had just thrown a fucking cutter into the Joker's eye.

Bruce is set free.

Everyone is frozen in place.

Everyone watched as Bruce Wayne's tired and overworked secretary beats the shit out of the Joker, saying something about how he wasn't going to lose a good boss.

No one particularly knows what to do once Danny pulls out the cutter with the Jokers blood and... Fucking shit, was that his eyeball?!

Dick and Damian arrived at some point, also too shocked to do anything. When Danny was done and satisfied, with the Joker still alive, groaning and whimpering from the pain that Danny inflicted.

As if he hadn't almost killed the Joker, Danny turns to them with a tired smile.

"Mr. Wayne, I implore you not to die. I can't lose the best boss that I've had." He plainly says and takes the tablet and stylus back from Jason.

Jason thinks he might just marry this feral man.

Yeah.

Yeah, he was definitely going to marry Danny Fenton.

Part 2 | Masterpost

[lokissweater]

Hi!!! Hope your doing wonderfully 🫶I absolutely adore your work! And this is the first time in asking anything, but if you haven't yet can you do a shy guys x popular reader with a lil spice but no smut! I'd appreciate it 🥹 have a lovely day or night 🩷

YUUUMMYYY oh my goodness i spiced but i think i spiced too much and if i did i am SO SORRY IM JUST A FREAK!!! but i hope you enjoy this piece and thank you so much for sending in a request!! MWAHH <33

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∘˙○˚.• DON’T BE SHY ∘˙○˚.•

{pairings (separate): shy satoru gojo, megumi fushiguro, & yuji itadori x popular f!reader}

summary: how the boys are pathetically down bad for favorable you <3

warnings: college!au, mentions of drinking, HELLAAA sexual mentions and theming mdni, no smut but girl damn near it, pining af, cursing, aged up characters, afab!reader, pet names, they want you BAD in each of their stories HEHEHE, mentions of alcohol.

word count: 5.3k

authors note: WHO WANTS MLB!MEGUMI BC I SURE FUCKING DO!! HES COMING NEXT MY LOVES but here’s a little something to keep you fed in the meantime <33 I HOPE YOU GUYS LOVE IT! ILY!

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∘˙○˚. SATORU GOJO ∘˙○˚.

satoru wasn’t by any means a loner in college.

he had his own cute little group of friends and his own cute little outings and his own cute little interactions with his classmates, his rank on the popularity scale running somewhere around the middle (something he can thank his gorgeous eyes and gorgeous face for), but never even coming close to where you were at, a place many tried to reach but never had the qualities that you did— your place being at the top.

but satoru was too shy for his own good. too timid as he watched your breathtaking magnificent self walk down the halls and right by him in between classes— surrounded by people, you barely even noticing him, but him already memorizing the exact scent of your perfume you chose to wear that day, watching with love struck eyes and sweaty palms as his sickingly sweet obsession over you only grew by the years.

you were an absolute goddess in his eyes. you could never hurt him or be mean to him even if you tried, and it was a little pathetic how much he liked you— his little boyish crush that only shrunk him down to the mere size of a lady bug, his increased bashfulness when you’re around only doing him more harm than good as it started to affect his studies and sleep schedule.

but that wasn’t your fault, oh absolutely not.

it was his. all his. he wanted to take the blame for everything. he doesn’t care what.

even when you accidentally bumped into him at a party one night because you were a little tipsy, him stumbling over and you apologizing profusely as his heart stopped upon realizing it was you. and even when you accidentally dropped your red solo cup on his favorite blue washed jeans later on, your alcoholic beverage leaving a patch of wet on his thigh that made you apologize profusely to him again, satoru shaking his head and telling you repeatedly that it was his fault. he was in your way. he should be sorry.

you could dump an entire twenty five ounce bottle of smirnoff on his head and he’d still tell you he was to blame. that’s how much he liked you.

so as you gently took his hand and tugged him to stand up, you leading him through the crowd, your fingers interlaced with his? satoru went into a fucking frenzy.

his cheeks burned as you led him up the stairs and to the nearest bathroom, your lovely skin tight dress squeezing and hugging you in every right way in front of him that he internally panicked as he felt his dick stretch against his jeans, him wanting to end it all as he hoped you didn’t notice it and think he was a pervert.

“oh my god i’m so sorry—” you pulled him in and shut the door behind you, silencing what seemed like twenty different people calling out to you, for your attention, satoru swooning over the way you paid them no mind in return and focused entirely on him.

he felt so lucky.

he awkwardly sat himself at the edge of the tub as you crouched down and rummaged through the cupboard below the sink, your lips in a cute pout.

“i always get so stupid when i’m buzzed and i totally didn’t see you when i was walking…”

your tone was whiny and apologetic, and satoru’s heart physically could not take it.

“it’s— it’s okay..” he mumbled shyly, cheeks pink. “it was me i—” he averted his gaze once you turned to look at him. “i wasn’t paying attention…”

“but are you okay though?” your voice was immensely sweet and doting, it almost sounding like you were babying him as you walked over to him with a damp hand towel.

and he was all fucking over it.

he stiffly nodded and looked down at his lap, throat closing.

“i put a stain remover on this so i at least don’t leave a red mark on your jeans!” you smiled, an enchanting one at that as your clear lip gloss glistened under the dim light. “and i’m really sorry again! i hope i didn’t ruin the party for you…”

his eyes shot up and he shook his head frantically. “n—no! you didn’t it’s okay!” he tugged at the collar of his button up, feeling a little hot. “y—you did nothing wrong...”

you gleamed, and as satoru reached a trembling hand up for the towel to clean himself off, you pulled it back with a cute shake of your head.

“i’m doing it, silly! i’m the one who spilled it.”

“but!—”

you got down on your knees in front of him and his hands literally slapped over the edges of the tub as he gripped it tightly, his knuckles turning pure white as you calmly spread his legs and inserted yourself in between, your face fucking hovering over his dick and his cheeks turning even pinker as lewd thoughts dashed across his sick mind.

you noticed the look on his face and laughed.

“are you nervous? don’t be! i’m just gonna clean you up and ill be out of your way love.”

satoru didn’t want you out of his way, not ever. and the way you called him love had him already picturing you in a pretty white dress with a veil walking down the aisle to him.

he swallowed.

you had your arms resting over his thighs for support as you rubbed a circular tugging motion over the spot on his jeans, your eyebrows pinched in concentration as you tried to get the red stain out, your soft hair slipping from your shoulders and landing over his lap with satoru’s fingers itching to touch it.

“at the last party i threw, i also spilled a drink on a guy.” you giggled.

he felt a twinge of bubbling jealousy.

“did you—” he nervously looked at you. “did you also… help him?”

you smiled cutely. “nope! because he was making out with someone in the middle of my kitchen and he was in my way.”

thank god.

you huffed and leaned back to sit on your calves. “like— have some decency. i get you want to have a little kiss but if you’re doing it right where the vodka mix is? blocking it? i’m not helping you. your girl can help you.”

satoru giggled a little, and you folded the towel neatly and settled it beside you, proud of your work at removing the stain from his pants as you set your hands on your hips.

“and what about you?”

“me?” he mumbled.

“mhm!” you raised a silly brow and leaned closer to him, satoru inching backwards nervously at the proximity. “have you ever made out with someone like that?”

“well— well—”

satoru’s never kissed anyone.

“well what?”

he ran a slow embarrassed hand through his fluffy white hair and grimaced.

satoru is timid, shy, friendly, and a dork. but one thing he isn’t? is a liar. especially if it was you— even though all he wanted to do in life was impress you and have you not think he was a fucking loser.

“i’ve never uh—” he struggled. “kissed… someone.”

his words were so quiet and mumbly, completely ashamed of himself as his cheeks continued to glow pink.

but your eyes widened.

“what? you’ve never kissed anyone?”

he shook his head, eyes to his lap.

“but you’re so hot?”

satoru shot up. “h—huh?”

“yeah!” you grinned. “you are! have you ever had a girlfriend?”

he shook his head again.

“what?! how?!”

you placed a shocked hand over your mouth, your voice soft and astonished. “what a crime…”

he smiled shyly at your compliments, reduced to absolute putty in your hands at the moment as he couldn’t believe you thought he was even remotely attractive.

you confidently swung your arms up and threw them around his neck, and he froze.

your eyes were really suggestive, your gorgeous face looking up at him and his wide eyes looking down at you, your fingers gently running across the back of his neck and hair as he almost whimpered at what you were doing.

“wanna kiss me?”

“y-you?” he choked out, and you giggled softly.

“uh huh! o—only if you’re okay with it—” you pulled away a little, shoulders deflating. “i just figured—”

satoru noticed the way you started to lean back, your arms slipping from around his shoulders and his hands shot out then— grabbing your wrists as he pulled you back in and settled them around him.

was this real? actually? or was he just really drunk?

“yes!” he settled down a bit, sheepish. “yes i—i’m okay with it.”

you took in his eager bashful expression, and grinned.

“okay!”

you leaned and kissed his soft lips, pulling satoru in as his fingers shakily snaked over your waist and around you, not believing for a second that he was actually kissing you.

and you moved your lips slowly and delicately over his, trying to pry his mouth open more with your tongue and guide him on how to kiss you back, him diverting all of his focus to that as he tried to mimic your movements.

it started with innocent pecks at first, you trying to ease him into it and not make it overwhelming for him as you carefully amped up the difficulty little by little.

and he got the hang of it, fast, and you squeaked a noise of surprise when he suddenly shoved his long tongue in your mouth and slid his hands further down to your ass, squeezing as if he had every right to, completely forgetting that he technically didn’t.

what a greedy little thing… but you loved it.

he instantly pulled back.

“sorry i’m sorry!” he sputtered, pulling his hands to his chest like he’d just touched something scalding hot. “i don’t know why i—”

you giggled. “it’s okay! i liked it.”

“y—you did?”

“uh huh!” you nodded, leaning in seductively. “maybe you should do it again… and maybe underneath my dress, to get a better feel y’know?”

satoru couldn’t even respond as you latched your lips back on his, and he kissed you back desperately, wanting to impress you and do good for you so he could properly earn the right to feel you up like you had requested.

but he got greedier, and his hands were back on your ass squeezing and palming the fat of it, breathing heavily through his nose as he started to tug your dress up a little to feel your skin, the lace of your panties grazing his fingertips and making him fucking light headed.

his body was literally numb as you pulled apart suddenly, both of your lips swollen and red.

“wanna go to my room?”

∘˙○˚. MEGUMI FUSHIGURO ∘˙○˚.

“if i can’t do it i’m turning the car around.”

“megs you cannot do that when we get there though!”

megumi shook his head. “and why not?”

“because you’ll scare every one away! what the hell is ‘with this treasure i summon—‘“

“yeah so that way everyone will think i’m a freak and leave me the fuck alone!”

you and megumi have been best friends since middle school, carbon copies of tweedle dee and tweedle dum as your personalities matched with each other’s so identically yet so differently at the same time, that you both bickered every waking second you were together.

which was all of the time.

though you had a better reputation than megumi did. you were popular, beautiful, and everyone wanted to get to know you as your unique personality struck joyous chords with anyone that was lucky enough to come across and get to know you.

all things megumi would never admit out loud to your face.

and he was just regular— popularity and social statuses something he didn’t give a shit about as he kept to himself and didn’t speak to a single soul unless it was yours.

“but i thought you said you wanted to come with me!” you whined.

megumi huffed and made a sharp turn as he drove. “you dragged me i told you no i don’t like parties and you started crying—”

“okay and?” you grumbled. “what so now i can’t cry in front of you? i can’t show my emotions and use my right of freedom of speech?—”

“oh my god.” he dragged an exasperated hand down his cheek. “you’re putting words into my mouth—”

“and you’re putting knives into my heart with how much you hate me.”

he parked on the side of the street and turned off the ignition, hooking his keys on one of his belt loops before he gave you an annoyed look.

“am i not in the car.”

“you are.”

“and am i not here at this party with you.”

“you are.”

“so what more do you want.”

“a kiss.”

“fuck off—” megumi pressed his hand flat on the side of your head and nudged you away before stepping out of the car with pink cheeks, your laughter ringing through the air as you shut the door and ran to catch up with him.

“just be nice please. my friends sometimes wanna talk to you and you look like you’re plotting.”

“maybe it’s because i don’t wanna talk to them.” he mumbled.

through his hard exterior, you knew megumi was just shy, and often times had difficulty talking to people or expressing himself— you really being the only exception in his life.

that’s why in every social situation that you dragged him to, he clung to you like sticky stubborn gum and never left your side— you of course not minding at all and it actually making you feel better to have him always there, your thing being interlocked pinkies as you navigated.

“no it’s because you’re shy and that’s okay!—”

megumi scoffed and kept walking, but the minute you both walked across the lawn and up the steps of the porch, he turned around and let you in front of him— his pinky out like usual.

you smiled softly to yourself and looped yours with his, pinkies closing like a lock before you pulled him inside.

it was dark and humid as fuck already, and you tried your best to politely push through the crowd of hammered and sweaty people in search for the kitchen, you not realizing how megumi literally pushed and shoved people behind you so they wouldn’t topple you over, them too inebriated to care.

“y/n!”

“hi guys!” you gushed, your crowd of friends beaming at the sight of you and handing you drinks without you even having to ask, you passing one back to megumi smoothly.

you both mostly spent the night mingling and drinking with your friends, playing little games and giggling quietly whenever someone would ask megumi a question and he would just stammer in response, blushing and grumpy at your teasing once he got the interaction over with.

and at some point, half of your friends had gone to the main area to dance, and you turned to him.

“megs.”

“yes.”

“do you wanna dance with me?”

“fuck no.”

“whyyyy!” you whined, dropping your forehead on his shoulder.

“because i don’t like dancing.”

“no one’s gonna notice anyways! it’s dark over there like completely.” you looked at him. “just come with me please.”

“no.”

“i’ll give you a kissy.”

megumi gave you a deadpanned look. “what is it with you wanting to give me a kiss?”

you ignored his comment. “i’ll do anything.”

“nope.”

“fine.” you stood up and tugged your dress down. “i’m just gonna ask some other guy and maybe when i tell him he’ll get a kiss out of it he’ll do it—”

megumi quickly grabbed your wrist, eyes narrowed.

“are you actually?”

“yes.”

his heart dropped.

“you’re gonna pimp yourself out for a dance?”

“yes! you know i love to dance—”

megumi stood and grabbed your hand, dragging you to the dance floor as you cheered and happily skipped behind him.

upon arriving, he remained stiff, bored, and fucking nervous with flushed cheeks and crossed arms while you danced, gently swaying and moving to the beat as bright neon laser lights occasionally drifted across the crowd— illuminating red cheeks and sweaty bodies.

it really was incredibly dark, and megumi could barely even see you standing in front of him as the bass of the music drummed through his body.

he let you when you reached up and uncrossed his arms— instead wrapping them around your waist as you threw your arms around his neck, him swallowing thickly.

“dance megs.” you spoke gently in his ear. “like this just sway—”

you moved your hips a little more, and though he didn’t exactly copy you, he stiffly just kind of swayed with you.

“i hate dancing.”

you laughed. “do you hate me?”

“no.”

far from it actually.

“then this should be fuunnn! just let loose a little.”

“i am letting loose.” he grumbled.

“you feel like a little stick though.”

“a stick?!”

you giggled loudly, throwing your head back as you did, the sight making megumi melt.

“yes! i’m gonna start break dancing if you don’t.”

he gave you an incredulous look. “huh? you’re not serious.”

“that i am.”

“y/n i’m moving with you i’m dancing—”

“but your arms are just around my waist! you’re not even moving with me what are you talking about?!”

“what are you talking about?!”

you huffed and stopped moving. “i’m gonna dance with someone else—”

you let go of him and turned but megumi only pulled you back.

“no you’re not and you’re not kissing them either so don’t even think about it—”

“you can’t tell me what to do—”

you pushed at his chest with both of your hands, trying to get him to let go of your waist— his strong grip not letting you.

“why are you being such a brat?!” he exclaimed.

you broke free and started walking.

“a brat that’s gonna dance with someone else!—”

megumi flew and grabbed your shoulders, spinning you back around before literally smashing his lips to yours, your eyes widening in complete shock.

there was your kiss.

he pulled away. “s—sorry i—”

you shook your head and grabbed his cheeks, bringing his lips back in to yours as they moved sloppily and fast, almost matching with the music as his arms engulfed around your waist and pulled you in.

you swiped your tongue over his and whimpered, you figuring he couldn’t hear it over the music but being dead wrong as he felt the blood rush to his dick the minute he heard it.

you pulled away. “what are— what are we doing?”

his chest heaved as he looked at you, cheeks pinky like always and eyes blown wide. “i don’t— i don’t know—”

you wiped your wet mouth with the back of your hand. “do you wanna— stop? i—”

you didn’t know why you were asking, knowing damn well you didn’t want to stop.

“fuck no.”

“okay—”

and his mouth was back on yours, kissing you and running his hands up and down over your body in absolute need, you doing the same as you ran your hands over his chest and down, down, down…

“can i—” you spoke in between kisses. “i’m gonna—”

megumi did it for you and pressed your hand flat against his groin, you palming him slowly as he took in a sharp inhale and broke from your lips, his arms coming up to wrap around your shoulders with his cheek mushed up against the side of your head, eyes screwed shut at how good it felt.

you continued to palm him through his jeans, going a little firmer when you felt his breath literally tremble in your ear as he shook.

“shit—” his arms tightened around you. “wait—” pant “i’m gonna cum in my pants if you keep—”

“do it.”

“no!” he choked and his hips pressed into your palm, wanting more. “let’s go— to the car. the car please—”

you nodded and pulled back, but stopped.

“megs if we do this we can’t go back, okay?” your chest heaved, a little fidgety. “we can’t— we can’t go back to being just friends i don’t wanna be just friends—”

he shook his head and looped his pinky with yours, leading you through the crowd and speaking over his shoulder.

“we won’t.” he started.

“i don’t wanna be just friends anymore either.”

∘˙○˚. YUJI ITADORI ∘˙○˚.

being good at math had its perks.

yuji was able to get by in every math related class, never had an issue with studying, and even tutored some of his friends and classmates as a side job to pay for his college classes and tuition.

but the minute you approached him one day— you, one of the most popular girls on campus, president of your sorority, life long crush and the most gorgeous girl he had ever seen, asking if he was able to tutor you on wednesdays?

being good at math became a blessing and a curse.

yuji thought he was well off at math… but if he was to tutor you, he wanted to be fucking albert einstein at it so he didn’t look like a fucking idiot if he happened to come across a topic he didn’t know how to teach.

and as he sat on his desk chair in his dorm, textbooks and materials laid out and ready to go as he wiped his clammy hands on his pants for the thousandth fucking time, he heard you softly knock on his door.

oh fuck.

“hi yuji!” you greeted sweetly, him smiling back at you as he stepped to the side to let you in.

“hey! were you able to find my building okay?”

you both walked over to his desk and sat down, you right next to him on an extra chair— your perfume engulfing his senses and your pretty hair over your shoulders neatly.

“oh no i was fine!” you got your little notebook out with your pencil case. “one of my friends is dorming in this building too so i knew where it was.”

he nodded happily and politely, shitting it inside but doing a damn fucking good job at not showing it— though the reddening of his cheeks was something he couldn’t control no matter how hard he tried.

since you could only see him once a week, the duration of the tutoring sessions was a lot longer than the rest of his clients, and though yuji literally offered to tutor you for free whenever you wanted, you profusely denied and mentally decided to pay him double for his kindness.

you nervously fiddled with your fingers as he opened the textbook and flipped through the chapters you needed help with, and upon noticing, he frowned.

“sorry is it hot in here? i could open—”

“no! it’s okay!” you shook your head. “sorry i just— i’m really bad at math so i’m sorry if you can’t get anything through my head…”

you giggled nervously, and yuji just about cried.

“oh! don’t worry about that! that’s why i’m here to help.”

he beamed, his smile so big and bright that you found yourself copying his exact expression.

he was so nice.

“right!”

and he did help. yuji was exceptional at teaching, and concepts you had found hard to grasp before during class by your own professor was easy peasy with him, his bubbly and animated way of teaching you something that pulled you in and kept you engaged.

after two hours of tutoring, yuji sat back on his desk chair and exhaled.

“phew, let’s take a break! is that fine?”

“mhm!” you chirped, putting your pencil down and smiling. “you’re really good at teaching yuji, like really good.”

“oh thanks!” he blushed, giving you a cute little smile. “i— i like math so i just, teach y’know..”

you nodded. “what’s your major? is it something to do with that?”

“oh no—” he shook his head. “i’m majoring in finance so i get a lot of math classes.”

“huh?!” you gasped, completely astonished. “i thought your major had something to do with teaching i’ve— i’ve never understood math before until you… you’re brilliant!”

he gulped, your praises washing over him and making him feel tingly all over.

yuji gave you a wobbly shy smile. “t—thank you y/n!”

you grinned kindly, your pretty face making him want to word vomit how gorgeous he thought you were and maybe even sort of ask you to be his wife.

“do you um— are you thirsty? i have—”

he shot up clumsily and walked over to his mini fridge. “i have water? here—”

he didn’t even let you respond as he took a bottle of cool water and handed it to you, you taking it gratefully.

“i— i also have these!”

he reached in again and gave you a little glazed donut pastry, wrapped neatly in a clear bag that had the bakery’s logo on the front.

“oh no yuji it’s okay!” your eyebrows pinched together in worry. “i don’t wanna take what’s yours just the water is fine!”

he shook his head and closed the fridge, sitting back down on the chair next to you. “it’s all good! it’s your reward for hanging on for two hours of tutoring.”

his smile was so kind and sweet, and you bit your bottom lip as you softly thanked him.

“how’s um— how’s your sorority going?” yuji asked.

“my sorority?” you tilted your head to the side. “how’d you know i’m in a sorority?”

“oh! well—” he went completely fucking pink. “s—sorry you’re kind of popular so i just heard..”

you hummed and quickly nodded. “no it’s okay! i didn’t know people were talking about me like that.”

you laughed a little, and yuji thought you were so humble.

“it’s going great! it’s really kind of you to ask.” you crossed your legs and leaned an elbow on your knee, your chin coming down to rest on the palm of your hand. “it’s a little stressful to manage but i love my girls so, they definitely make it easier.”

yuji lit up. “that’s great! i’m glad it’s going well… i— i know i don’t know much about sororities and things like that but i have no doubt in my mind that you’re the most qualified and deserving of a position like that…”

your eyes softened, and your heart literally ached in the best way over his compliment.

“thank you yuji… seriously. you’re so nice!”

you giggled, and it made him gnaw at the inside of his cheek.

the tutoring session continued after that, and just when you had reached your final hour, you slumped over his desk and groaned softly.

“i’m sorry yuji… my motivation is running out.”

he laughed softly. “it’s okay! it happens. if you want we can stop here—”

“no!” you shot up. “i have to get through it i’ll be so mad at myself if i don’t.”

he looked at you, his eyes gentle. “you’re doing really great so far y/n.”

you blushed, “thank you…”

you stood suddenly and reached over to flip through the pages of the textbook, completely unaware of the way your boobs were practically shoved up his face as his breath hitched, hands tightening on the arms of his desk chair.

you really hadn’t noticed, you innocently wanting to just look and see how many chapters you had left to cover, but when you sat back down and quirked an eyebrow over yuji’s flushed face and blown out pupils… it clicked.

was he interested in you like you were with him?

maybe…

“i need motivation.” you sighed.

he cleared his throat and tried to regain his composure. “i can— i can give you another donut at the end?”

you giggled. “it’s okay! i have an idea.”

he tilted his head, curious. “what is it?”

“maybe we can do like a reward system!”

“a reward system?”

“yeah!” you nodded eagerly. “for every page we cover, i get a reward!”

he sat up and smiled, “oh right! i’ll give you a donut after each page then!”

but you shook your head, and he deflated. “no?”

“do you know about hickeys?”

he choked, eyes widening dramatically. “a—about— well, yeah, i do.”

“maybe that could be my reward! a hickey for every page.”

you smiled at him so fucking cutely, as if you didn’t just ask him for something so raunchy, and his throat literally dried up at your request.

holy fucking shit.

“you want—” he wiped his hands on his pants. “you want a hickey from— from me? really?”

“yeah! only if you’re okay with it, definitely not if you’re not.”

“no i—” his eyes darted from your neck to your face. “i am…”

holy. fucking. shit.

your tutoring session resumed, and yuji literally could not teach you a single damn thing anymore, knowing that by the end of this page he was going to do something that only took place in his dreams.

after a bit, he turned the page and shifted his body to face you, nervous and clammy.

you smiled sweetly and took his hands, yours soft and heavenly as you placed his on your shoulders.

“only if you’re okay with it.” you murmured again softly, tone nurturing as your pretty eyes looked into his.

“i— i am.”

“okay! whenever you’re ready.”

yuji breathed in shakily and out, gulping before coming closer to your gorgeous neck and planting his lips on it.

your hands came to rest on his thighs as he sucked— slowly and carefully, not wanting to suck too hard and accidentally hurt you as his tongue flicked over the spot, the pressure of his mouth making you shudder as he continued to suck and create a pretty purple bruise.

he pulled away when he was finished with a wet smack, his breathing heavy as he searched your face for any indication that he did well.

and you glowed, looking at your reflection on the little mirror that sat on his desk. “it’s so pretty! i love it!”

a hesitant smile spread across his face. “r—really? you can be honest i—”

you looked at him. “no it was amazing! it felt really good!”

his dick twitched.

“okay let’s keep going now!”

well the motivation definitely worked, and funnily enough, you both got through the next page a lot quicker than before, yuji almost immediately turning to face you after turning the page.

this time, he placed his hands on your waist as he sucked. and he sucked, harder and wetter than before as his fingers pressed into you— his tongue running over your new hickey and dragging over the previous one too before reluctantly pulling back, his dick a literal bolder at this point as you squeezed your thighs together, both of your chests panting.

you had barely reached a quarter of the next page when yuji set his pencil down and turned, his cheeks flushed and eyes wide.

“can i please just give you another one?”

you nodded quickly, eagerly, as you both stood and he latched back onto your neck, his arms around your entire body desperately, grazing his teeth against your sensitive flesh and full on making out with it as he messily sucked and ran his lips all over your neck this time, a moan slipping from you as he did that it made you slap a hand over your mouth in embarrassment.

“s—sorry—”

“don’t be don’t be—” he breathed quickly, walking backwards until the back of his legs hit the bed and he sat, pulling you with him and grabbing at your thighs for you to sit on his lap.

you listened, your neck littered with yuji’s hickeys as you subconsciously and softly grinded on his crotch, him groaning into your neck and biting down harder as your breath hitched.

yuji lost it at this point, all forms of moral out the fucking window as he dragged his long wet tongue from the side of your neck and up to your cheek, kissing and licking deviously at it as his hands squeezed hungrily over your plushy thighs.

he pulled back, eyes half lidded.

“can i—” pant “can i give you hickeys on your tits?”

————————————————————————

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

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[ohcaptains]

𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟.

college! peter parker x fem reader.

18+ only !!! f! receiving oral sex. peter parker has an oral fixation i said what i said. in my spider-man era again.

peter was a weekly visitor at this point. sometimes, it was twice, but never more than three. three was pushing it.

Three said that Peter meant something to you, and you couldn’t have that. No, whatever this was between the pair of you was strictly transactional. It was Peter texting you late at night, the classic, you up? Gracing your screen, and every time, you would pretend to be annoyed.

As if Peter coming around to give you the greatest head of your life was an inconvenience. Tempted, the devil on your shoulder smirking, to type back, Jesus, again? but never doing it. Instead, you wrote: sure.

Still, it plagued your mind. He never asked for anything else.

It was as if he did this purely for himself.

“Oh fuck,” you mewled, clenching down tight. The hand that was wrapped around Peter’s brown curls clutched and tugged, and the unconscious movement earned you a chastised groan. It rumbled through your cunt, and the echo shot to your clit, making you close your eyes and lean back, wet mouth spilling his name into your dorm.

Peter liked hearing you.

Liked seeing you lose your mind with his head between your thighs, your pussy wet and throbbing from his mouth and fingers. It’s why he came around often. Sometimes, he wouldn’t even text, would just knock on your door -- looking sheepish from under his dark curls -- and just. Not. Say. Anything.

His silence was answer enough. You knew what he wanted. Or, needed, as you later figured out, as you saw how red he’d gotten when you told him he couldn’t come around for a bit. When you said something about focusing on exams, he’d come over anyway, whined, shuffled his feet and said, You can do your work, I just gotta…I’ll be quick.

The lack of explanation made your mind swirl. But regardless, you’d let him in and did your work with his head between your thighs. He’d tutored you, too, told you how to solve for x with his fingers inside of you. He’d said, if you let me make you come again, I’ll do your Maths work for the next week. After he’d left, you stared at the scene of the crime in pure silence.

Just…reflecting.

Peter fluttered his tongue over your swollen clit. Focused on swirling it around his tongue in sloppy, wet circles, and the thick desire that swelled between your thighs began to pool at your lower back, forcing you to arch up into it.

“Please,” you wept, even though he was giving you what you wanted. Flat on your back with his deft grip keeping your bare thighs open. It was 8 pm. He’d caught you just after your shower, so the smell of your shampoo and body wash wafted through the air – Lavender and pear.

Peter had spread you open and said you smelled like spring. You’d been far too turned on to comment on it. He grumbled into your cunt, and you managed to work out the word, more? You hummed, too drunk on him and wound tight to verbalise that yes, you wanted more. Wanted him to make you come, and come again, till all you could do was mumble his name and focus on your breathing.

He'd learnt how you liked it. Paid attention, and he was getting full scores as he pushed his tongue flat against your swollen clit and sucked. Your vision went white.

“Oh fuck – ohfuck, Peter—” you squirmed, but Peter was strong, and he held you to the bed with his vice-like grip, wordlessly saying take it take it take it.

He lapped at you, salvia drooling over your cunt and down his chin, soaking the sheets. He was always so careless. In moments like this, that nervous edge that always fluttered around him was gone, replaced by a visceral drive to either please you, or get what he wanted.

The two bled into each other.

His tempo was leisurely, but that didn’t stop the heat from washing over you all at once.

You clamped your thighs around his ears and moaned -- loud, so loud that you were sure the other students on your floor heard.

Still, the ache was erratic, “So good,” you sobbed, and you heard yourself, heard the near primal need in your voice, and the desperation made you embarrassed, made you cover your mouth with your palm and grip the sheets, willing yourself to cool it. 

“Move your hand, or I’ll stop,” he uttered against you, and your clit was so sore that the echo of his words made your eyes roll back. Peter must have seen, as he hummed a laugh, and kissed your inner thigh, “lemme hear you.”

Managing to gain some sense of sanity, you blearily blinked down at him, but all sense of stability you thought you had was wiped away when you saw Peter had his hand stuffed down his pants.

You dropped back onto the bed and sobbed.

You knew he got off on this, but Jesus Christ, you’d never seen that before.

“Gotta be kidding me,” you breathed, and Peter must have understood what you were referencing, as he buried his reddening face into your inner thigh. He let out a breathy chuckle, “’ M’sorry,” he mumbled, “usually I wait till I get home, but you’re just so hot.”

You had to stay completely still, or you’d burst. Usually, I wait till I get home?

Peter moved his face and began nuzzling the wet folds of your pussy. He bumped his nose against your clit, and you quietly choked.

Peter hummed, “couldn’t help myself.”

You figured he did something like that, but the admission made your thighs tense. You pictured him stumbling home – cheeks still wet with you – and tugging his pants down, quickly shoving his hands into his boxers and taking hold of his aching cock. Did he whimper when he came? Or was he silent, all tremors and low grunts? No. He definitely whimpered.

He was far too pretty to stay quiet.

The sudden desire to kiss him swept over you.

Reaching down, you tugged at his curls, wordlessly motioning him to move. When he did, you briefly saw the red of his cheeks and wet of his nose before you kissed him, all tongue, and tasted yourself on his pink lips.

Peter melted into you. Huffed your name like a sigh, and the sheer tenderness of it had you wrapping your legs around his back and pressing your bare cunt against his jeans.

He was rock-hard. Tentatively, you ran your nails over his chest, and dipped low, pressing between his thighs, cupping his bulge, and gently squeezing. Peter wept.

“Oh fuck,” he sobbed, as desperate as you imagined. With one hand in his hair and the other on his cock, you continued to kiss him, until the ache between your thighs became too much to bear.

“Make me come,” you whispered, “and I’ll put you in my mouth.”

Peter had never moved so fast in his life.