#of course most women back in the day were working class women so there was little risk of that for them

[rabbits-of-negative-euphoria]

Nah corsets really do suck, it has nothing to do with feminists or men

Depends on the corset, dude. If it's not made to your measurements of high quality materials, and worn over something, it's probably gonna suck to wear.

Personally, the closest things to a corset I've worn were the bodices of my altered prom gowns and they felt amazing to wear. They were supportive and posture-correcting (and as I've recently learned, I have mild scoliosis). If I could wear something like that as my basic support garment for the rest of my life, I would be the happiest camper.

[strawbeerossi]

The Ballad Of Dr. Reid

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: When you zone out in the middle of one of your lectures, your professor asks you to stay after class to check in on you.

Content/Warnings: Power imbalance, Professor/Student, age gap (Spencer is in his 40s, reader is in her 20s), minor hand kink, porn with little plot, heated kissing, fingering, spit, unprotected sex, exhibitionism (kinda, right?), reader gets a facial

Word Count: 1.9K

Kinktober Day Two: Power Imbalance

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

You’d always had a liking for criminal justice, so taking the courses in college seemed like a no brainer. You really liked Criminology 1424. It was an interesting class, one that piqued your interest far more than the other classes you were in the process of taking. 

In addition to being genuinely interested in the subject, you were more interested in the professor of the class; Dr. Spencer Reid.

He was soft spoken for the most part, a little on the awkward side but that was okay. He was experienced from his fifteen years in the Behavioral Analysis Unit and would use cases he’d faced for examples in his lessons. His lectures were long and albeit pretty boring at times but you had no problem watching the man at the front of class talk, his hands emphasizing just how prepared he was for the topic at hand. You’d realized that there were topics he definitely enjoyed getting into, his body language and his overexaggerated gestures being proof of it.

You’d always thought the FBI and the darkness he faced on a near daily basis would exhaust him, make him harder and more stoic, the seriousness of the world on his shoulders. No, instead he offered smiles, helped any student who came to him, and was painfully oblivious to the amount of young men and women auditing the class just to admire the attractive professor.

It was like any other lecture, delving into the intricacies of triggers and what could bring them on. It was a lesson he liked, judging by his animation this evening. You’d done your best to keep up, to get plenty of notes jotted down due to this being on the impending final. However, you were too busy drooling over the curly haired beauty, his veined hands flailing with each word that fell from his lips. 

What you wouldn’t give to have those hands on your body, to feel the gentle touch of your professor as he was letting his fingertips memorize all the dips and curves of your body, to familiarize himself with how to pleasure you.

His hands on-

“Y/N? Are you alright?”

You were snapped from your thoughts. The sound of your name falling from his mouth was like sweet honey, drizzling over your eardrums as you could feel your face heat up from embarrassment. Great. Now the whole class is looking at you. 

“Y-Yes, I’m okay. I’m sorry, just, uh, not all the way here today.” You explained, slowly looking back down at the notebook covered in scribbles. So much for getting any work done today. 

The class passed by painfully slowly after that. Even the attractive man in front of you didn’t seem to speed up the clock. You’d sat quietly, giving up with the notes aspect as you’d switched to doodling on the edges of your notebook. You’d done your best to try and be one of the first ones out whenever your professor dismissed the class full of students. However your shoulders slumped with defeat when the sea of bodies filed out first.

There was no clean getaway.

“Y/N, do you mind staying back and having a chat?”

Fuck.

Mustering up enough courage to face the man you’d gotten distracted fantasizing about, you were approaching his desk. Even up close, he was a beautiful man. Even in his early to mid forties, he still looked delicious. “I apologize for getting distracted earlier. I was just-”

“Looking at me? Y/N,” There was a deep breath that left his lips. “You can tell me if this tie is ugly. My coworker Penelope insisted I wear it. I love her but some of her ties aren’t really my style.” 

He was joking, easing the awkwardness and the unknown tension filling the lecture hall. Maybe he’d been feeling the same way about you. He looked at you a lot as is, however you may have just been in a delusional state of mind right now. There was a hope that Spencer would reciprocate those feelings. “It’s not.. It’s a little ugly but that, uh, wasn’t what I was, uh, staring at.” You decided to just be honest. Worst you can do is transfer out of the class. 

Or run away to a new city, start over again at a new university. 

“Really?” 

“Really. Sir, with the risk of coming across as inappropriate, it’s hard to pay attention to you at the front of the class. It’s not a bad thing. You just always look…” You paused and gave him a once over. “Really nice.” You spoke. 

There was a blush that spread across the older man’s cheeks, an eyebrow raising. “You think so? At risk of sounding even more inappropriate and unprofessional,” He paused as he leaned forward a bit, arms crossed over his chest. “It’s hard to teach when you come in looking as beautiful as you do. Makes me just wanna stare at you the whole class.” 

The words were lower than usual, a rush of warmth going straight to your core from the mere compliment. 

“Plus when you come in with a new lipstick shade..” His lanky body was pushing off the desk before he approached, his fingers resting gently under your chin before tilting it upwards. “It drives me insane. You may think I don’t notice but…” This was crossing the boundary of teacher and student, his thumb swiping over your lower lip. “I do. Makes me think of these pretty lips wrapped around me, those eyes glossed over with pleasure.” He hummed, chuckling at the way your breath hitched, eyes locking with his. 

You didn’t know what came over you at this point, however you could help yourself as you were launching yourself forward, mouth smashing against his in a quick kiss that he seemed enthusiastic to reciprocate. His hands were gripping your waist, pulling your frame closer to his chest as the kiss filled with desire and hunger was escalating.

The next thing you knew, you were being sat against the desk at the front of the lecture hall, your eyes widening. “H-Hold on, don't you have another class??” She asked immediately as she let her hands squeeze the broad shoulders. “Yeah, in twenty minutes.” Spencer responded, hands trailing to the waistband of the pants you were wearing. The thought of having sex in a hall where anyone could walk in at any point was enough to send a shiver down your spine. You weren’t one for exhibitionism normally, however you weren’t gonna turn this down. 

“Fuck it.” Your words made a grin spread across Spencer’s face, his lips pressing a chaste kiss against your lips while working on getting your pants pulled off, panties following in one swift motion. Licking his hand, the older male didn’t waste any time before moving the wet hand between your legs, his spit working as lube as he wanted to make sure you were wet enough for the deed. Lord knows that he didn’t want you tearing at any point. 

The feeling of his fingers brushing against your clit had already sent electricity through your body, a light gasp escaping your lips. 

“Such a pretty girl, bet you haven’t ever had any man pay attention to you, huh? I can only imagine you’ve been with selfish little boys who haven’t even attempted to bring you to orgasm..” He sighed playfully, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips once more. He was addicted, drinking in your moans as his thumb was massaging your clit, one finger pushed deep in your weeping hole while he was working you open.

This was definitely something new, you didn’t really sleep around so the few times you’d engaged in casual sex were quick, rushed. You sure as hell knew that the past couple of dudes couldn’t even find your clit. You were intoxicated on his touch the small movements he made eliciting moans and gasps into his mouth. With your hips rolling against the touch, you let your eyes flutter shut. 

“As much as I hate to stop, we’ve got fifteen minutes and I’m dying to be inside of you.” He murmured against your lips, his hands moving to undo his belt before tugging his pants down his legs, boxers being pulled down soon after. The sight of his hard cock had your full attention. “Ready? You’re sure you want to keep going?”

“Yes!” You rasped, making him chuckle while his large hands were spreading your thighs apart, letting a trail of his spit fall onto your pussy before he was giving himself a few tugs. The thick tip of his shaft was spreading the spit onto your cunt, a hum falling from his lips. So pretty. God, I hate having to crunch time like this.” He groaned while letting the thick head push into your hole, your mouth falling open at the delicious burn that came with the stretch of your inner walls. If only you knew about your professor’s cock sooner.. All the stress of studying for quizzes would’ve been a million times easier.

His hips snapped without warning, a loud moan falling from your mouth while the male couldn’t help but chuckle as he quickly clasped a hand over your mouth. “Shh. Can’t have anyone hearing you.” His hand barely did justice to hide your moans and cries as his hips continued to roughly thrust, the desk rocking steadily with each movement.

“Fuck. It’s like this pussy was made for me, look at the way she takes my cock and is desperate for more. So greedy.” The vulgar words from your otherwise sweet and seemingly innocent man’s mouth was strangely attractive, attractive to a level that your inner walls were spasming around the hard cock nestled deep inside of you, so far you felt like he was hitting your cervix. Then again, you could’ve just been exaggerating. 

With your fingernails digging into his clothed shoulders, you could feel a knot in your stomach, tightening so tight that you felt like the floodgates were going to burst open. 

“I-I’m gonn-” You stuttered, words muffled against his hand while Spencer nodded. 

“I’m almost there. Cum for me.” His words were husky, tone dripping with ecstasy as he let out a low groan. 

As your pussy clenched tightly around his cock, the both of you were letting out a mixture of groans, mons and even a few whimpers slipping from the older man’s lips. It was all too much, finally letting the dam break as you were letting your head fall back, mouth agape as your thighs were shaking, your creamy arousal making a ring around his cock.

There was a little whine at the emptiness you felt when his cock wasn’t inside of you, the male opting to gently move you from the desk before putting you on your knees. “Look at you. Fuck. Stick your tongue out for me. Make sure you close your eyes too. I don’t wanna give you any infections.” Even in a huffing and panting mess, he looked out for you.

Doing as you were told, you let your mouth fall open while your eyes fluttered shut, the male groaning at the sight as he roughly fisted at his cock. There was only a few pumps before his cock was twitching, it being his turn for his head to fall back as he was painting your face with his spent. The load was a lot more than you expected.

Maybe he needed this just as bad as you did. 

As the act was coming to an end, Spencer was trying to catch his breath while tugging up his pants and boxers. He’d retrieved a few tissues from his desk before leaning down to wipe your face, a light hum leaving his lips. “Maybe you can talk to me about some extra notes you could add to your doodle book. Say over coffee tomorrow morning?”

“Deal.”

[minarisplaything]

Tour Break ft. Lisa and Jennie

pairings: Jennie Kim/M!OC, Lisa/M!OC rating: Explicit word count: 3.7k summary: A few months have passed since your last encounter with Jennie. When a tour stop brings the girls near your university, they decide to pay you a visit. PART ONE HERE. tags: size kink, semi-public sex, stomach bulge, rough sex, footjob A/N: may have gotten a bit carried away. hope yall enjoy!

After that night with Jennie, the following weeks leading up to their tour changed for you completely. Instead of preparing to go off to university, you began spending more time with your sister and her friends. It was an effective way to lose that embarrassed little sibling complex. Mostly though, it was because being around them offered more chances for Jennie and you to sneak off and fool around.

And boy did you two fool around. You had to have easily been the luckiest person in the country during that time. Eventually, though, it came to a close as they went back on tour and you went off to university.

You kept in touch through texts and sneaking in the occasional FaceTime when possible, but it wasn't until the end of your spring term that you got to see them again. It wasn't even a personal visit; it just so happened they were playing at the local stadium near your university.

You had received a text from Jisoo that you were to meet them for lunch later in the day. As happy as you were to see your sister, you found yourself anxious to see Jennie. It had been more than a few months now. Would she still be interested in your arrangement? Would she still be interested in you, or had the thrill disappeared? You supposed there was only one way to find out.

You walked through the front doors of the restaurant you were to meet them at, and the hostess led you to the table where they were waiting. Immediately, you were greeted with high-pitched voices and limbs swallowing you into hugs.

Okay, maybe you hadn’t completely gotten rid of the little sibling complex.

"You look so different with all that scruff!" Rosie exclaimed, running a hand over your chin, her fingers brushing against your stubble. “I bet all the girls on campus fall for this.”

“I do alright for myself,” you joked.

Some light-hearted laughter echoed in the restaurant and you found yourself scratching the back of your neck as you stole a look at Jennie. As everyone took their seats you placed yourself next to Jisoo and across from Jennie. You stole another glance at her but, to your disappointment, she seemed to be acting completely normal.

Of course she was, you silently chastised yourself, Did you expect her to suck your dick right in front of Jisoo?

“I want to hear all about it. How has your first year been?” Jisoo questioned, placing her chin on her hands.

"Really? You guys have been traveling the world and you want to hear about how school has been?" you asked.

"Duh! And make sure you leave in all the dirty details," Lisa chimed in, a smirk on her features.

"I think we can do without that part," Jisoo said, her face scrunching up.

"Speak for yourself!" Lisa retorted.

Her words earned laughter from everyone except Jisoo, and you felt yourself slowly beginning to relax. Among her many talents, you found that Lisa was an expert at lightening the mood in any given situation.

"Where do I begin..."

You proceeded to recount the events that had occurred in your first semesters at university. The parties - which Lisa seemed particularly interested in hearing about - the friends, your classes, and even the few girls you had what could loosely be called relationships with. Though admittedly, you might have intentionally overplayed those stories. Judging by the way Jennie’s expression subtly shifted when you told the stories, it had worked. Or, you hoped it had.

Christ, you were getting bold. Playing games with one of the most desired women on the planet?

"Wow, I can’t believe my baby brother is sounding like an adult," Jisoo said, placing a hand on yours as you finished. "You’re practically a man now."

You scoffed before pulling your hand away teasingly. "God, when did you get so sentimental?"

She laughed, hitting your arm playfully before turning back to the group.

"To be fair, I think he’s been a man for a while now," Jennie spoke up for the first time, her gaze zeroing in on yours.

You played it off with a laugh, but you could feel your face heating up. Beneath that, there was a tinge of fear. Was this payback for provoking her? It had to have been. Of course, Jennie had always been flirty, however where it had been innocent in the past, you now had a history. If it could be called that. And you weren’t exactly sure how Jisoo would react to that history. But you had prodded her, now you had to deal with whatever came next.

You took a sip of your drink, recovering your composure before changing the direction of the conversation. "So, how is the tour going? You guys are on the last leg right?"

There was a collective nod before Jisoo spoke, "It’s been wonderful. I really wish mom and dad would have let us take you to some of these places."

"Why do you say – THAT!?"

The last word came out almost as a high-pitched yelp and you immediately went into a coughing fit to try and mask it. Jisoo looked concerned, as did Rosie, while Lisa bore a smirk and Jennie seemed almost indifferent.

"Sorry, I must have gotten something stuck in my throat, go on," you coughed.

Jisoo patted you on the back to make sure you were okay before continuing her answer. You, however, were no longer listening. That was because there was currently a foot pressed against your inner thigh unbeknownst to anyone else. When you looked across the table, you had no doubt about who the culprit was.

Truth be told it was exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time. Jennie stared back at you, the slightest hint of a smirk on her lips. Her eyes, meanwhile, were practically daring you to react and say something. When you didn’t, you swore her smirk grew more bold, her foot pushing higher against your thigh.

"…Well, we did New York in December, it looks amazing…" Jisoo continued on.

You nodded your head, trying to remain focused as Jennie’s foot rubbed up your leg until she reached the height she wanted. Her toes curled slowly as she moved to press against your crotch. At this point, you were already starting to get hard and had to move your chair in more so Jisoo or Rosie wouldn’t see.

"How was the crowd overseas? Good?" you asked, trying to keep the conversation and any attention away from what was happening underneath the table.

"Oh, they were amazing," Jennie spoke. When you turned your attention to her, she was simply smiling as normal, despite that the sole of her foot was now rubbing your erect cock through your jeans. "There was so much excitement and energy. I literally felt like the crowd was just going to explode."

While the other girls just nodded in agreement, you closed your eyes briefly. Lisa began speaking but at this point, you were barely registering what any of them were saying. Jennie’s foot continued to jerk you off over your clothing, rubbing you as furiously as possible without being noticed. At one point, her toes pressed against your zipper and you wondered if she just might free your cock from its constraints. That would be terrible. So why did you want it to happen so badly?

“Are you okay?” Rosie asked, giving you a glance.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, you're fine. You just need a drink," you said, trying to give your best smile before sipping your water slightly. You could see Jennie smirking out of the corner of your eye. You still didn’t know what she was playing at but you also weren’t sure you cared at this point either.

Rosie gave you a concerned look but they soon carried on with telling their tour stories. Your mind, however, was focused somewhere else. Jennie’s toes had worked down the zipper of your pants and had slid inside just enough to allow more contact with your hard cock, her sole rubbing against the stiff length as she jerked you off.

You tried to keep yourself together. You really did. But eventually, it got to be too much and you leaned back in your chair. You tried to disguise it as simply stretching but judging by the look Jennie was giving you, you doubted that was how she took it. You felt the pre-cum dripping onto her feet as she continued her assault. Fuck, you were going to cum. There was no way you would be able to hold out much longer.

"Hey, are you okay?" Jisoo asked, turning to face me. "You look like you're burning up."

"Y-yeah, I'm fine. Maybe just a little hungry. Are the appetizers here yet?" you said, hoping your excuse would work.

"Actually, that's a good idea. I could go for some food too," Rosie chimed in.

"I'll check on the status," Jennie spoke up. "I need to use the ladies room anyway."

You let out a sigh of relief when Jennie's foot left your lap. But the relief was short-lived as you watched her stand up and make her way around the table. You held your breath, wondering if she would say anything but, instead, she placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it before walking away.

The contact was brief, and it could have meant nothing but you knew better. You were certain of it. She was just making sure that the message was sent.

"I'm going to head to the bathroom as well," you said, standing as you held your napkin over your lap awkwardly.

You quickly scurried away, following after Jennie, catching up to her before she made her way to the bathroom. "What the hell was that?"

Jennie looked at me with her eyebrows raised, an innocent expression on her features. Her words, however, were anything but, "What? Did none of your little campus sluts do that for you?"

"So you were jealous then?" you asked.

"Do I have something to be jealous about?" she said simply before making her way towards the ladies' room.

Maybe it was indignation, maybe it was anger; hell maybe it was just because you were still horny. Whatever the reason you found yourself following Jennie into the bathroom. As the door swung closed behind you, you grabbed her by the arm and spun her to face you. Your lips pressed hard against hers in a heated kiss.

Christ. It had been so long that you almost forgot how soft her lips were.

Almost.

You pulled her tightly against you, pressing your body hard into hers. Your tongue invaded her mouth, dominating her as the kiss intensified. Your hand traveled down her body, slipping under her skirt and grabbing a hold of her firm ass. You could feel that she wasn't wearing any panties.

"Hoping this would happen were you?" you muttered against her lips.

“Baby, I’ve been going commando for months now,” she whispered. Her breath was hot against your ear causing your cock to twitch from the sensation.

“God I’ve missed you” you muttered.

Not wanting to wait anymore, you got rid of your own pants, sliding them down past your knees. Jennie positioned herself up, using the sink as a counter and spread her legs for you; her wet, glistening pussy looking up at you in the eye.

You gripped the base of your cock, positioning yourself at her entrance and thrust yourself inside her.

"Fuck~!"

Jennie was still just as tight as you remembered and your hands immediately went to her hips. You started pumping her hard and fast, your hips snapping back and forth as her legs wrapped around your waist.

"Oh my God~" she groaned, wrapping her arms around your neck and pulling you into a deep kiss.

Her tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring the familiar territory.

Your lips locked in a frenzy as you both tried to express months of pent up sexual frustration. Jennie's pussy gripped you tight, squeezing and milking your cock as you fucked her.

“You thought you were cute with your little act earlier didn’t you?” you grunted as you pulled out and slammed back into her with more force than before causing her to squeal in surprise, and pleasure.

“You…liked it…didn’t you,” she shot back, her words coming out in short pants. Your sudden change in roughness caused her to move one hand to the sink, gripping tightly as her body shook each time you entered her.

Rather than answer immediately one of your hands moved to her throat, choking her lightly as you continued to fuck her, "It was embarrassing."

There was a brief moment of surprise on Jennie's expression before a devilish smile crept across her lips. "Someone's gotten into a few new kinks while I was away." Her hand rose to cover over the top of yours, imploring you to squeeze tighter as her fingers curled against your hand.

Not bothering to respond, you focused on the task at hand as you quickened your thrusts. This was different from your usual dynamic with Jennie but you didn't hate it. Far from it in fact. And clearly you weren't alone in that sentiment. You could feel her pussy clenching around you. Her breathing became heavier, her chest rising and falling, breasts heaving, and her skin flushed. It was an expression you hadn't seen in a while.

"You're enjoying this aren't you?"

Jennie nodded eagerly, biting down on her lip, stifling a moan as her orgasm was building.

You could tell she was close by the way her pussy tightened around your cock and the look on her face.

"Go on then, cum for me, Jennie" you grunted, releasing her throat and leaning down to kiss her once more.

As soon as you released her she gasped for air, her head rolling back against the mirror as she let out a loud cry, her body convulsing around you as she came hard. Her juices spilled down your shaft as you kept pounding her through her orgasm.

It was the sexiest thing you had witnessed since, well, the last time you had fucked Jennie. Finally she relaxed and elicited small moans as you continued to slide in and out of her, chasing your own release, knowing it wasn’t far now.

“I thought I’d find you two in here.”

Your mind registered the presence of a third voice, but your body was too far gone. Thrusting into the singer’s sweet pussy a few more times you felt your balls tighten. Grabbing Jennie’s slim waist you pulled her close against you before you erupted into her. Your hips jerked erratically a few more times as your seed shot to her womb.

“Christ…you weren’t lying about how much he cums, Jen,” the third voice said.

Unbeknownst to you, her eyes were fixated on your fluids currently leaking out of Jennie. It took another moment but finally your brain began to function properly again. You tore your gaze away from Jennie, to see Lisa standing there, hands on her hips and her tongue licking her lips.

“Lisa! Shit!” You might’ve jumped backwards were it not for Jennie’s legs still being hooked around your waist. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“You mean you’re not balls deep inside one of your sister’s best friends?” Lisa asked, manicured eyebrows raised.

You hesitated for a moment, “Okay…Maybe it is exactly what it looks like.”

Jennie, who had finally started to recover as well, brushed aside her sweat soaked bangs, “Relax. You don’t have to worry about Lisa.”

“You told her?”

“I came to my own conclusions,” Lisa answered. “We were both there on that dance floor, remember? Jen just got to you first.”

There was something undeniably hot about that. That two of the most desired women on the planet had wanted you, going so far to outmaneuver one another to get to you first. Briefly you wondered what it might’ve been like if that night had ended with the two of them. Boldly, you wondered if you might be about to find out.

“First come, first serve, Lili,” Jennie grinned. She pushed you back so she could slide from atop the sink, your release dripping down her thigh.

“You’re not jealous?” you asked, remembering her earlier reaction when you mentioned seeing other girls.

Jennie rolled her eyes. Her hand reached down, fingers curling around your cock as she slowly stroked you to cut down on your refractory period, “Are you comparing Lisa to one of these campus sluts?”

“N-no, not necessarily,” you moaned.

“Good,” Jennie kissed your cheek. “Then bend her over this sink and fuck her like a good boy before your sister starts asking questions.”

Yep. That did it alright. You were back to full mast from those words alone. You turned your gaze to see that in the time you had been talking to Jennie, Lisa had stripped out of her clothes. Your cock gave a twitch at the sight. Jennie was hardly the only one of Jisoo’s friends you had fantasized about. It was all three if you were being honest with yourself. Now here you were staring at Lisa’s toned, perfectly fit body.

Lisa bit her lip, smiling and giddy with excitement as she stepped towards you. She turned, wiggling her tight ass against your crotch as she looked over her shoulder at you, biting her bottom lip, "Don't be shy, stud. Jennie's told me plenty of stories."

That made you curious. It also made you not want to disappoint her. There was no sense of pressure, maybe because you just had your balls drained and any nerves along with it. Instead what you felt was an excitement and eagerness to get to it. “Are you sure you can handle it?” you asked, feeling confident.

Lisa merely winked at you and gave another shake of her tight ass, “Why don't you find out.”

You briefly spotted Jennie out of the corner of your eye, her eyes practically glowing with anticipation at what would come next. One hand grabbed Lisa's slender waist while the other pushed against her back, bending Lisa over the sink. She giggled as she gripped the white porcelain for balance, moaning when she felt your cock start to probe her entrance.

You found her already dripping from her sex, running your cock along her folds before roughly sliding into her. "Shit" you moaned, the feeling of her tight sex enveloping you from the start. Your thick cock was splitting her in half and you could hear Lisa moan as her head fell forward.

"Are you okay?"

"Don't you dare stop," she told you. "Give me all of it, stud."

You didn't need any further instruction. You kept working your cock into her until you finally bottomed out inside of her, your balls pressed flush against her rear. It was heavenly. How many people around the world wanted to do this? Yet you were the one fucking the Thai princess in a restaurants bathroom.

You reached forward, one hand wrapping around Lisa's neatly done ponytail and pulled back her head raising. Her eyes locked with yours as you began to slowly withdraw your cock before slamming back into her.

"That's so fucking hot," you heard Jennie say.

Had your attention not been solely focused on fucking Lisa you might've spared her a glance. As it was, you were entranced by the talented dancer; your rhythm steadily increasing as she propped herself up against the sink. Fucking Lisa’s lithe, fit body was a whole different experience. Each time you moved inside of her, you felt like you might break her. Like your cock might punch through her cervix and bulge against her stomach. And yet Lisa took every inch like a goddess.

“Shit. Shit. Shit” she chanted, her body shaking with each thrusts, her head still pulled back, “You’re going to fucking break me. Is that what you want, stud? You want me to walk on stage with a limp from being fucked so good, huh?”

Your cock swelled inside of her at the thought. The filthy words driving your passion. You watched your reflection in the mirror, pounding the global starlit from behind. Truth be told you almost didn’t recognize yourself. In the span of a few months you had gone from drooling over your sisters friends and nearly coming yourself just from some provocative dancing to taking charge and fucking Jennie and now Lisa.

It made you realize her words were exactly what you wanted to do.

"That's exactly what I want to do," you grunted in response. One hand moved to slip around her throat, squeezing lightly as the other still held her ponytail, "I want my cum dripping down your leg when Money plays and you're dancing on stage."

Lisa moaned, struggling to maintain a state of coherence let alone form a proper response to your words. Fortunately, Jennie was more than willing to provide commentary as her fingers played with her own clit.

"Yeah? Are you going to sit in the front row to make sure?" she asked.

"That's right," you grunted.

You didn't know if you'd ever be able to look at Lisa the same again after this. Let alone when she was on stage performing an array of provocative moves. But logic no longer mattered. You were completely lost in the moment, saying anything and everything as long as it heightened the moment.

Too much. It was too fucking good. It was —

“Oh f-fuck,” Lisa let out, her eyes rolling back.

Her body tightened, her walls squeezing your length as her orgasm hit like an ocean wave on a stormy night. You weren't far behind, in fact as she shuddered against you you continued to thrust into her tight pussy. You buried yourself deep inside of her when your own release finally hit, painting her insides with your seed.

By the end of it you were utterly spent. And you weren't the only one either. Lisa slumped against the sink, letting it support her weight.

"I think I...I need a few minutes," she babbled.

Jennie licked her fingers, cleaning them of her own release. "Don't worry, stud. I'll take it from here. You go back before Jisoo really starts to ask questions."

You could only nod dumbly as your cock slipped out of Lisa, your cum seeping out of her hole. Needless to say, this had been one hell of a reunion.

[glotoru]

ooh baby, ooh baby, i’m in love | eren jaeger.

the note 𐦍 i’ve recently been thinking about a successful, older (early to mid thirties), soft spoken eren who lives to spoil the woman of his dreams—so i’m gonna share this with y’all too. i’m actually just projecting our relationship. not proud of the ending but wtv. part two here. inspired by west coast, lana del rey.

contains 𐦍 nsfw, fem!reader, stupidly rich!eren, established relationship, vaginal sex, mating press, cervix kisses, use of pet names (princess, baby, my wife, the usual yk), unprotected sex, breeding, squirting, softie eren, mild body worship, size kink, hand on stomach while fucking mhm, i love you’s exchanged, praise kink, eren talks to your pussy while he’s in it, i’m thinking black reader but it’s all subjective babes: if you like it, read it!!

truth be told, eren jaeger doesn’t believe he has much to live for.

he’s kept his circle small for all of these ongoing years; with the occasional extension of acquaintances from work dinners, or christmas parties—though, he preferred to slip away from such events when eyes weren’t so…watchful. he likes to think his social battery has drained over the course of his life. looking back at his angstful teenage years, fourteen year old most likely wouldn’t recognize the person he is today.

his once intense nature that resembled an overbearing presence of loud determination turned calm—steadfast and slow to visible anger (with the exception of a passive aggressive comment here and there from simple annoyance). the short hair that once barely covered his nape now fell to his broad shoulders, however, he preferred to keep it up—maintaining appearances while keeping it convenient. the smaller five foot six body grew to an intimidating lean six foot four instead.

however, those things were quite trivial; he knew such changes happened with growth and eventual maturity.

but for a significant chunk of his life, eren was never the greatest with women. he was oblivious—blind to the wandering eyes full of admiration from girls in his classes and workplace—and nose deep in his books. he wouldn’t rest until he was on top of his grades; which he had no problem with. His emphasis on success failed him when it came to the dating scene; to say the least he was shy—and married to his work as well.

but on top of all this, eren was a patient man, and good things always comes to those who wait.

and when a dangerously beautiful woman comes wandering into his life on the street outside of an office dinner he gracefully slipped away from, asking him for an extra five dollars to help pay for her cab home from a no-show date—a woman that has him battling the slew of warning alarms sounding away in his usually zen mind and redefining what he thought was himself—he knows that he’s waited long enough.

simply put, he’s a man of his craft; dedicated to two things. his work, and his wife.

His wife—the phrase has his brain melting into pure grey matter that spills out his body in the form of love. To even think he has the opportunity to refer to you as such is priceless in itself. eren didn’t believe he could love—let alone love this hard. you ask him to run, he’ll say how far; jump—how high?

you’ve changed him—ever since he offered to drop you off in his sleek black mercedes benz parked somewhere by the valet and you giggled in response, saying ‘i’m not usually so trusting of strangers’ will the slightest glint of curiosity in your bright eyes.

and somewhere in between the months, his ten hour workdays turned to six, important software development meetings got pushed back for convenience, the accumulating days of paid time off started being used, for once, his assistant could do their job, and his new focus was you.

diamonds and pearls, nails and hair, dinners on boats and vacations on beaches, shopping sprees on his black card and all of his devotion towards you—only you.

eren…he’s a worshipper—it doesn’t take much for him to get on his knees for you. he’s not ashamed, if anything, he’s proud. he likes to say that anything that’s his, is yours; so who are you to deny what he gives you?

that’s another thing he oh so loves about you—you readily take everything he can offer. you let him take care of you, and he wouldn’t want it any other way; you’re his wife after all.

his wife, his wife.

“my wife…” eren mumbles to himself as he buries his face into the crook of your perfumed neck. the pronounced scent makes his head spin, you can’t fathom how in love with you this man is. as his large hands engulf your own, he’s met with the texture of your wedding ring that cost him over twenty grand, the one you cried over when you saw it in his hands offering it to you—but eren doesn’t think it does his adoration for you enough justice.

he prefers to show you.

while there’s no doubt that material items and dream homes are things you like to receive—there’s nothing better than the way he has you now, one leg resting atop his shoulder and the other barely slung around his waist as he steadily ruts his hips into your own.

oh, how could you be so beautiful? splayed out on the bed like a wicked man’s deepest desires and dreams; the one he secretly lusts for from across the room with no hopes to introduce himself because you’re just so out of his league. your hair is messily draped over the silk pillows, all remnants of your lipgloss/lipstick gone from your parted lips and instead smudged on his own, the gold necklace with his diamond initial was falling into the dip in your neck, and you were gazing at him with need. pure, heartfelt need.

your body arches towards him, manicured hands trailing towards your own chest to play with your nipples that hardened from the low temperature of the room. “i need you eren, make me feel you—i want it.” your voice is smooth, accompanied with a small whine that reminds him just how spoiled you are, and how it’s all his fault.

but he couldn’t care less—you deserve it for wandering into his life to make you his own.

“i know princess, i know.” he knows damn well you need him, he knows, he knows—he’s repeating it as he peppers a kiss to your jewelled ankle before pressing down on the back of your thigh to steady himself.

eren fucks like he loves—endlessly and hard.

maybe that’s why the way he bullies your pussy while bottoming out has you grasping at the threads of the sheets and chanting his name like a hymn followed by prayer. he lets your cunt feel every bit of him, the ridges—veins, down to the last inch. he’s terrifyingly big, another thing you love about him.

his dick feels like it’s mushing your insides, curving up against your spongy walls that oh so desperately tighten around him. every thrust is harder than his last, and the way the trimmed hair resting above his base brushes against your clit provides all the extra stimulation that has your head rolling to the side. your uncontrolled moans turn to sobs when you feel his tip tickle your cervix—and boy does it make him a rejuvenated man.

“look at me.” his words barely register as syllables in your clouded mind—you keep your head turned, eyes focused shut as your body shakes upwards from the fervour of his unrelenting tempo. there’s a lot of things eren can have, and you not watching the way his slick covered dick slips in and out of your weeping pussy isn’t one of them. “you have to look at me pretty girl.” his tone is soft but firm, thick fingers taking your chin in his hands and turning you towards him once again.

“see how well you’re taking me? all of it.” he gives you a million dollar smile, hinting for you to watch where the two of you connect. “your pretty cunt just wants it so bad, right?”

“oh, eren…” it’s always a sudden surprise how soiled his mouth can get at times like this. heeding his request, you watch his cock disappear in your folds—and you sight of it has you fluttering around him like a whore.

“you were made for me, weren’t you? prettiest sight i’ve ever seen.” you’ve heard his praises a multitude of times, having him ramble on about fucking you so much your walls moulded to fit him like a tight glove, only that now, he’s saying it to your pussy instead.

“only you ‘ren, was made just for you.” you babble out, feverishly bucking your hips up to meet his ruts.

when your eyes finally rip away from below and back up to his face, the look he wears has your cunt melting like putty. with furrowed brows, a dip in his forehead and a bitten lip, he watches your body move with each fuck. even in such a sinful position, you were just so divine.

almost subconsciously, his ringed hand moves from your hip and over to your torso, gliding over your pierced belly and stopped at your lower stomach, “I’m right here baby.” gently, he applies pressure to the spot, making your eyes blow open as you moan in response. the feeling gives you butterflies—ones that go straight to your clit and stimulate the nerves in your shaky legs.

“cummin—eren i’m cumming!” you’re rambling, scrambling to push his hand away from your belly, but it’s all too late, and eren knows that well. how could he not? your body is a temple, he’s explored every inch of it, and the sudden vice grip your walls have you him and periodic throb of your cunt is all too telling. your orgasm is drawn out, legs spazzing around your entranced husband, “mm, oh-fuck! yesyesyes eren, don’t stop!”

oh, aren’t you just perfect. his eyes soften when he watches how your mouth hangs open in a silent scream, only to capture it in a languid and sloppy kiss, teeth grazing your plump lips and sucking on them like a sweet. you whine he pulls himself away from your body completely, instead he takes the time to tack his thumb to your puffy clit, rubbing feint circles and the occasional attempted heart on the bud. he always does this, coaxing out the last of your orgasm with nimble fingers that you dream about

“you gonna let me take good care of you?” he asks softly between hushed breaths while grabbing hold of both your legs and hoisting them over his shoulders. helplessly, all you can do is nod; you’re in a trance at the very sight of him. his defined torso is illuminated by the back light of one of the many lamps in your bedroom, his hair is slipping from its captive elastic band, the grip of his hands on your ankles sends searing hot pulses straight to your sensitive clit.

he gives himself a few good pumps, sliding his length between your folds. your wetness aids him in bottoming out once again, but your sensitivity has you squirming in his hold. “gotta stay put baby.” he marvels, talking you into submission, “that’s my girl.”

his praises are followed by the shift of his hands down to the back of your thighs, they gently rub the plush skin before pushing them down to meet your chest. while there are some circumstances where looking down at you sparks something within him, eren likes to be eye to eye with you when he’s balls deep—turns him on even more being in such close proximity with such a captivating woman.

you squeal from the uncomfortable burn in your hamstring from being folded in half with the additional feeling of eren’s body weight on your own. you swear that you can feel your heart palpitating in your ears as you feverishly clench around him. “it’s too much! can’t take it, can’t take it!”

“of course you can, you know you can, your pussy takes everything i give it.” eren speaks between juts, pressing your knees to your shoulder blades as he pistons into you without any regard for decency. his thrust feel like a hammer, knocking your body into the memory foam mattress you begged him to buy.

stars cloud your eyes as he wraps himself tighter around you, head in the side of your neck as he peppers kisses across your skin. your pants and gasps are loud, amplifying the sounds of slapping skin and balls hitting the fat of your ass. his favourite part is when you dig your nails into his back, leaving cresent shaped imprints and jagged lines across it like a painter with a canvas; scars of your love.

deep groans fill your ear, soft and sweet; all eren can ramble about is you—how good you feel, how quick you can make him unravel like a ball of string, how lucky he is to have you in his life—the list goes on.

“i love you—fuck, i love you so much baby, you treat me so well.” with his declaration of love, his pace seems to increase, fucking you dumb and leaving you to heave for whatever air is left to breathe.

“i love you too, so much.” your eyes scramble around in your haywire brain, overloaded by the repeated feeling of the jackhammering going on in your walls and the non-stop cervix kisses he gives you. “it’s all yours, eren; you deserve it, you deserve this pussy. you married this, have it.”

eren jaeger doesn’t believe he’s deserving of much; has he earned things? yes. but you…laying beneath him, telling him he deserves you? it makes him never want to leave—not that he would dream of doing so in the first place.

he does deserve it—your words make his brain malfunction. he deserves it. fuck, you might just be the death of him.

you’re crying for him, grasping at any part of his body possible to get him closer to you than physically possible. your tighten around his base once more, and your hand flies down to messily prod at your clit in an attempt to play with it.

meanwhile, eren’s unrelenting pace falters; that man knows he’s going to cum soon, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do it with you. so he pleads with you to give him one more—telling you that you’ve got another one bundled up in there for him. to say it’s true is unknown, but your body listens to eren, and miraculously whatever he believes will happen comes to fruition.

but your body is delicate—everyone knows delicate things break under pressure. with the unrelenting strain and stretch his dick gives your walls, the tight feeling in your core, and aching numbness in your legs, your buildup feels much more violent—ready to release all built up tension given to you by your husband.

“eren—keep on going like this and i’m gonna make a mess!” you fuss around, hand reaching to gently push his torso away in fear you may soil the freshly made sheets.

“that’s the goal.” he states as a matter of factly, brows furrowing as a suppressed groan bubbles up from his chest at the thought: pretty little face going stupid and clawing at anything within reach as you writhe and cum all over his torso and lower body. you can’t make him budge now that he’s a determined man.

his strokes grow sloppy but powerful, curved cock repeatedly ramming into your spongy spot that force your plush walls to grip around him, “you’re eating me up here, love.” he mumbles, moaning into your mouth in the disguise of a messy kiss.

the last roll that tips you over the rocky edge is a shaky one, the last one he could give before emptying himself into you. it’s thick and hot and you feel it fill you as you twitch underneath him and cover his abdomen with your juices. wordlessly, his hands reach for yours as he stills; soft lips peppering the lining of skin on your cheek.

eren jaeger knows that change is inevitable—it comes with time. but eren jaeger also knows one thing will stay the same; his love and adoration for the pretty girl laying below him.

[missaengg]

Gojo F*xxing Satoru

Day 12 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptation hosted by @xxsycamore found here Featuring: Jujutsu Kaisen | Gojo Satoru x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, fluff, first time, virginity loss, big dick, cunnilingus, p in v sex, alternate universe - grad school, porn with some plot Prompts: First Times | "Where do you want me to cum?" A/N: How did this take me two and a half days to write?!?! Slightly off schedule for the rest of Kinktober, but will probably skip a few prompt days to even this out. May circle back after October 31 to finish any missing prompts, but we shall see :) ao3 link here.

Gojo Satoru was the bane of your existence. 

Literally the bane of your fucking existence.

Because he was fucking perfect.

It was aggravating just how perfect he was: born to a wealthy family, star athlete, valedictorian, scouted by the top law firms in the country, all without breaking a sweat. Gojo Satoru had everything, the money, the jobs, the grades, the looks… the women.

It was disgusting how many women threw themselves at him, not that you could blame them. Not really. If you were anybody else, but you, you’d probably throw yourself at him too.

But you weren’t just anybody else. You were the perpetual number two. The salutatorian. No matter how hard you tried, how hard you studied, how hard you persevered, you could never hold a candle to Gojo fucking Satoru, not even in a mock courtroom arguing for or against a case.

So it was absolutely baffling when Gojo Satoru started pestering you. Out of all the women at Jujutsu Law College, the most prestigious law school in the country, which you worked your butt off to get into, you.

At first you thought it was just a coincidence. You attended the same law school. You had a fair number of shared courses. It was only logical you would interact with one another at some point during your grad school career, but then it became frequent, a multiple-times-a-day daily occurrence. You went to lunch in the school cafeteria – never on a fixed schedule… bam, Satoru… you went to the gym after a full day of classes to work out… bam, Satoru… you went to the gym mid-day because you had a free period – when you knew for a fact Gojo Satoru had class… bam, Satoru… you started the only internship offered to you at some small, no-name law firm… bam, Satoru.

It was getting to the point that you actually thought he might be stalking you with how frequently you ran into him around campus, off campus, way you-need-a-fucking-car-to-get-to off campus. It was uncanny and disturbing. 

And of course every time you ran into him, he would relentlessly tease you with that ridiculous smirk of his, calling out to you as soon as he spotted you with his infuriating, “Yo, salutatorian” or “Yo, number two”, beelining towards you to brag about how he scored higher than you in Torts or Corporate Law or whatever other course you shared with him, ruffling your hair or resting his arm on the top of your head because, of fucking course, he was also freakishly tall. 

Seriously, how could one person be so goddamn perfect?

It was one of those nights, when you were out with your best friend of two decades and fellow law school classmate, Ieiri Shoko, at some obscure, dingy bar that offered Thursday, ladies only, one dollar beers, where you again happened to see Gojo fucking Satoru striding in with his shock of unruly white hair, those stupid dorky sunglasses he wore all the goddamn time, and his usual expensive, brand name, black bomber jacket over a pristine white T-shirt.

You caught him in your peripheral, groaning as you saw his face light up when he caught a glimpse of you, making his way over easily through the crowd, which parted like the red fucking sea for him, that shit-eating grin plastered devilishly on his stupid handsome face.

“Oh, shit. Isn’t that Gojo?” Shoko asked, poking you incessantly.

You irritably sighed, swatting Shoko’s hand away. “Yes,” you replied flatly, glowering at your beer, your hopes of one fucking day without seeing your academic rival dashed to pieces.

“Yo, number two!”

God fucking damnit.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

“I should be saying the same to you,” you muttered darkly into your beer.

“Yo, Ieiri.”

“Hi, Gojo.” Shoko greeted him, but you knew her well enough to hear the squeal of excitement hidden under the smooth facade of her greeting.

You didn’t have to see Shoko’s face to know how brightly her eyes were shining, trying to catch yours subtly without giving herself away. You downed the rest of your beer, knowing you were going to need another one – or four – to deal with Gojo Satoru’s shit tonight.

“Whatcha drinking?”

You almost spat out your beer. Gojo’s face loomed right in front of yours, so close you could make out the black specks in his brilliant clear blue eyes peering at you over his sunglasses.

“What the fuck, Gojo?!” you choked out, coughing, having swallowed the beer before you sprayed him, but having swallowed so quickly a portion of it went down the wrong tube.

“Satoru.”

“Gojo,” you stressed, pushing his forehead back with your finger, “do you mind?”

“Satoru.” He pouted, but thankfully withdrew. “Whatcha drinking?”

“Pilsners,” Shoko interjected, not fully understanding what exactly was happening between the two of you, but understanding enough to be amused.

“I got next round.”

You exhaled as you watched him walk away.

When did you even start holding your breath?

“So…”

“Don’t.” You glared at Shoko, who had the most sly, impish twinkle in her eye, warning her not to continue.

“What’s going on with you and Gojo?���

You sighed heavily, a regular occurrence whenever Gojo Satoru was involved, bringing your glass to your lips, grimacing when you remembered you were out of alcohol. “Nothing.”

“Doesn’t seem like nothing.”

“Shoko…”

Shoko looked at you innocently, shrugging as if she had no idea what you were going on about. “I’m just saying… it looks like he’s flirting with you.”

You snorted. Flirting with you. Hilarious.

“He’s not flirting with me. He’s torturing me. Rubbing in my face how I’m just ‘number two’.”

“Mm… that’s not what it seems like to me. You don’t buy beers for someone you’re torturing.”

“You do if you’re flaunting your wealth,” you darkly quipped.

“At some dingy bar on one dollar beer night? Yeah, big spender.”

You massaged your temples with your middle finger and thumb. “Shoko, can we not?”

“Fine.” Shoko threw up her hands, backing off albeit reluctantly. “I’m just saying. You don’t treat someone like that unless you like them”

You scoffed. “Don’t make me laugh.”

Gojo Satoru liking you? Please. There was no way Gojo Satoru had a crush on you. That was ridiculous. He had a majority of the women at Jujutsu Law College falling over their feet for him, why would he want you? 

Not that you wanted him either.

Something cold pressed against your cheek.

“Pilsner for my salutatorian?”

Gojo Satoru was holding a new, full pint of beer up against the side of your face. Scowling not-so-subtly, you reached for the glass. While you were loath to accept something from Gojo Satoru, beer was beer, and it would be a crime not to drink it.

And god could you use it.

“Ah, shit,” Shoko suddenly exclaimed. “I forgot I had a thing.”

You frowned. “Thing? What thing?”

“The thing.” Shoko gestured with her hands. “The thing I told you about. The thing.”

You stared at her, confused as to what she was going on about. “What thing? You’re the one who wanted to come out tonight.”

Shoko pulled on her jacket, gathering her phone and her purse. “I gotta go. Gotta go do the thing.”

“What– You’re leaving me on my own in some dingy ass bar?” You narrowed your eyes at her accusingly, fairly certain that she did not actually have a thing that she needed to attend to.

Shoko gave you a lopsided grin. “But you’re not alone. You’ve got Gojo.” She turned to the freakishly tall, laidback individual beside you. “You’ll make sure she gets home, yeah?”

“Of course.”

“Great.” Shoko hugged you, bringing her mouth to your ear. “Have fun.” She pulled away, giving you a wicked grin and a wink, leaving you gaping after her as she disappeared into the crowd.

What the fuck just happened?

Did Shoko seriously just abandon you, leaving you alone with Gojo fucking Satoru in some bar?

You chugged your beer, finishing it in record time before Gojo Satoru even had a chance to start drinking his.

“Uh… You sure you can handle that?” 

He was observing you, his arrogant smirk still present, his own glass halfway to his lips, but there was a hint of something else, something unfamiliar and foreign, something… soft? 

No, not soft. Knowing him, it was probably something condescending like pity or belittlement.

“I can handle it,” you snapped, and eyeing the second beer in his other hand, you added, “Is that Shoko’s beer? You gonna drink it?”

You reached for the extra beer, but he held it above his head, way out of your reach. 

“Nuh uh. I don’t think you can handle it, lightweight.” 

He was looking down his perfect, chiseled nose at you, the taunt blatantly apparent on his face, mocking you.

“Believe it or not, Gojo, I can handle my alcohol so will you please…” you stood on your toes swiping for the beer, “... just give…” you jumped, “...me the goddamn…” another swipe, “...beer!”

You lightly panted, having failed to procure the beer you wanted from above his head. 

Seriously, how was he so fucking tall? 

Even on the very tip of your toes, the top of your head barely came to his chin

“Satoru.”

Exasperated, you lost it, yowling like a feral cat, your brows knitting together, creating deep, firm grooves on your forehead. “What. Does. It. Matter?”

Gojo finished his beer, placed the glass down on a nearby table, and then flicked you square in the forehead.

“Ow!” you yelped, rubbing furiously at the red mark you were sure was growing above your brow. “What the hell, Gojo?”

Gojo sighed. “Sa–to–ru. And it matters to me.” He ruffled your hair, turning your carefully blow dried curls into a tangled mess.

You dodged his hand, glaring at him. “You don’t tell Shoko to call you Satoru.”

“Ieiri’s not you.”

Scowling, you brushed your fingers through your hair, trying to undo some of the knots he created. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it means.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It makes perfect sense, you’re the thick one for not getting it.”

Gojo brought Shoko’s beer – your beer – to his lips, downing the entire pint in three large gulps. 

Watching his Adam's apple bob up and down, something in you finally snapped, all the moments of him relentlessly taunting you about being second place, teasing you about how short you were, stalking you around campus, one-upping you in mock court runs, all erupting into an explosion of something downright deranged.

“Gojo–”

“Satoru.”

“Gojo, for the love of god, shut up.”

You grabbed him by the collar of his jacket, and with as much strength as you could muster, hauled him towards you crashing his lips down onto yours. Gojo froze for a second, stunned, before pushing back, lips moving against yours with a hungry intensity. His tongue darted along the crevasse between your closed lips demanding to be let in, and you acceded, parting your mouth for him to slip in. The kisses deepened, your fingers curling even tighter around the fabric of his jacket, breathless sighs escaping in between kisses. Somewhere in the torrent of kisses, his sunglasses came off and his hands found themselves twisted in your hair, intertwining your curls between his fingers.

Breaking for air, you released your hold on Gojo’s jacket, rocking back on your heels and pulling away, keeping your eyes averted towards the ground.

Fuck. Just… fuck. What the fuck have you done?

Biting back a self-deprecating groan, you closed your eyes, taking a shaky deep breath in and letting it out slowly.

“Gojo,” you hesitantly started, threading your fingers together, for the first time in your life, not quite sure what you wanted to say to him. None of your bravado remained. All you knew was that you would have to see him again on Monday in class, and the last thing you needed was for things to be awkward or for him to hold whatever this was over your head.

“It’s Satoru.”

Your eyes snapped to Gojo’s as he spoke. There was a forceful edge to his husky voice, a commanding presence, one that he rarely displayed outside of the courtroom. Your breath hitched at the way he was just staring at you, his eyes dark and turbulent, storming with need and want.

“Sa–” you cleared your throat, the feel of his first name foreign in your mouth, “Satoru.”

Satoru acknowledged you with a hum of approval, the corners of his lips flicking up into the start of what could be a smile.

Your mouth felt parched. You were shivering at how intensely he was staring at you, at how his hypnotizing cerulean eyes were reeling you in, mesmerizing you until everything other than the infuriating man in front you faded away.

He grazed his lips along the outline of your shoulder and up your neck until they reached your ear, electric tingles crawling from where he touched, jolting down your spine. “You wanna get outta here?”

You nodded slowly. Your mind was hazy and dazed, drowning in Satoru’s eyes, barely able to put together a single intelligent thought to save your life.

How have you never noticed just how gorgeously blue his eyes were before? 

“Come on.”

Satoru took your hand, interlocking your fingers between his. Your hand felt so small in his hand, cradled in his broad palm, his body heat radiating up your arm. 

The tension between the two of you was thick and supercharged, heavy and tumultuous, on the verge of a catastrophic eruption – coming out of the bar, in the taxi ride back to your apartment, in the elevator going up to your floor, down the hallway to the door of your unit, as you input your code into the lock and the door clicked open.

When the door opened, it was like a switch flipped in Satoru’s brain. His lips were on you faster than you could react, tasting you with his tongue, nibbling on your bottom lip. His dizzying onslaught of kisses came so rapidly, you barely had the presence of mind to make sure you closed your front door and locked it before stumbling through the foyer, wrapped in his embrace. 

Keeping his lips locked with yours, he fumbled to remove his jacket, yanking his arms out of the sleeves, dropping it unceremoniously to the floor. Your fingers teased the hem of his shirt, slipping under and feeling his muscles ripple under your fingertips, feeling for the first time just how lean he was.

Holy fuck.

You knew he was muscular. You’d seen him engaging in casual sports with other members of your law class, seen the hem of his shirt ride up when he raised his arms or wiped his face, but feeling it for yourself was different than just catching accidental hints.

Feeling your hands grabbing at his torso, Satoru tugged his shirt off, also throwing it to some random corner of your apartment.

“Where’s the… bedroom?” Satoru murmured in between kisses, tugging at your waist, grabbing a handful of your hair.

You burst into laughter, continuing to kiss him as you shook against his chest. “Satoru, I live in a studio.” Maneuvering him towards the wall, you flipped the switch flooding the room with light.

Satoru blinked, squinting as his eyes re-adjusted to the light, pausing from his titillating ravishment of your lips to quickly survey the small room you called your home.

“My bed’s over there,” you whispered, guiding his chin in the direction of your modest double-sized bed.

Satoru hiked you up without warning, forcing you to wrap your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist, an unexpected yelp squeaking out. He strode over to the bed, covering the distance quickly given how long his legs were, and tumbled onto the soft mattress with you still in his arms, beginning another dizzying wave of an unyielding assault of his lips, but this time they roamed down your neck, along your collarbone, planting themselves on every inch of exposed skin he could reach. 

His lips were like fire on your skin. 

Your legs were hooked around his thighs, and your hips ground into him every time he lit another part of you on fire, evoking small groans from Satoru.

“Take my shirt off,” you breathlessly moaned into him, wanting to feel his body heat burn against your bare skin.

Satoru was only happy to oblige, removing himself from you only long enough to pull both your shirt and bralette over your head and to admire your heaving chest. He cupped them in his large hands, planting his needy mouth over your pert nipple. 

Ah, fuck. 

An electric zing ripped through you when he rolled your sensitive peak gently with his teeth. 

Oh heavenly fuck.

His hands were kneading, pinching, squeezing, while his mouth was pulling, biting, sucking, and the combination had you writhing in his hands. Your hips were gyrating into the firm bulge in his jeans, the friction against your pelvis delectable. 

“Fuck, saluta–”

“You know my name, Satoru.”

Satoru groaned your name, a shaky growl on the edge of the last syllable, shuddering when your hips jerked and painfully dragged along the length of his clothed erection. “Fuck, I wanna taste you.” He reached for the waist of your tight jeans, undoing the button quickly, pulling down the zipper, sliding his hand under the fabric.

Your eyes, which were closed in euphoria, snapped open, and in a panic, you grabbed his wrist before he could delve even further. 

“Wait.”

Satoru stopped. He looked up from where he had just been worshiping your chest, brows furrowed with concern. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s–” You bit your lip, the words sitting heavily in your throat.

“What’s wrong?” Satoru propped himself up higher, the hand on your stomach rubbing soothing circles with his thumb.

“I’ve…” you took in a shaky breath, “I’ve…”

Supporting himself on one forearm, Satoru cupped your cheek, his gorgeous, azure blue eyes peering down at you softly. “What is it?”

You swallowed, finding yourself drowning in those stupid eyes again, your stomach in knots from the anxiety of the words you were about to say. “I’ve… never done this before.”

His brows wrinkled, not following what you were trying to convey. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve never done–” you gestured to his lap “–this before.”

“I don’t under–” Satoru’s eyes widened, the meaning of your words hitting him. “Oh… Oh.”

“Yeah.”

You felt yourself blush seeing his reaction to your admission. You chewed on your bottom lip, anxiously wanting him to say something. Anything. You had never admitted this to anyone before, not even Shoko, though she likely already knew that you were still a virgin. She did have a front row seat to all of your sparse romantic entanglements.

Gojo Satoru for the first time in all the time you’d known him was silent.

“S’toru?” you hesitantly asked, prodding the stunned man hovering above you.

He blinked, coming out of whatever trance he was in, an expression you couldn’t read crossing his face. “We can stop if that’s what you want.”

“I don’t want to stop.”

“You sure?”

You nodded, holding your breath.

“You’ve had a couple of drinks, I don’t think–”

You scoffed. “Satoru, I’m not drunk, let alone tipsy.”

“I– Are you sure?” 

You looked straight into his eyes. “Yes. I want to do this.”

In all the years of wondering when and how you would lose your virginity, you never imagined it would be like this. With him. But you did want this. Badly. You wanted him right here, right now, virginity and rivalry be damned.

“You won’t regret this?”

Jesus Christ, even when he was tender he was infuriating.

You threw your head back, a long, drawn-out, frustrated groan exploding out of you. “Oh my god, Go– Satoru, no, I will not regret this. Will you please just fuck me?”

Satoru blinked, and then he was capturing you in a passionate, toe-curling kiss, caressing your cheek. He sat upright, sliding the last remaining articles of your clothing down your legs, grazing you softly with his fingertips, and then he sat there, mouth open, drinking in the sight of you under him.

“Satoru?”

“Uh, yeah, gotta… gotta get you ready for me.” He gave you a lopsided grin, and gently palming your thighs, settled in between your legs, quietly groaning as he inhaled your scent. He pressed a murmur of a kiss on your clit, and sensing the nervous tension in your thighs, he squeezed them reassuringly. “You gotta relax.”

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder.”

You clicked your tongue. Smart ass.

But his quip didn’t hold his usual teasing sass, and you focused on releasing the tension in your tight muscles. Which, as you found out, turned out to be easy. Because you turned into jelly the moment Satoru ran his tongue along your slit and up to your clit.

You sharply gasped. You might be a virgin, but you weren’t a stranger to pleasure having learned how to stimulate yourself with your fingers and the occasional toy, but this…

You arched your back as he flicked the tip of his tongue over your swollen, sensitive bud.

This was nothing compared to how you satiated yourself alone in your bed at night on those occasional moments you needed release.

This was bliss.

You felt him snicker against your cunt. “So wet for me…” 

You had half a mind to swat at his head, but he sucked down hard, and whatever thoughts you had of wanting to slap him flew out of your head, reacting to his sinful mouth by twisting your hands in his unruly hair instead. He grunted when you inadvertently pushed him in closer, your thighs clamping against the sides of his head, hips bucking up with each jolt of electricity buzzing through your center.

“Goddamn, girl.” But he didn’t let go, continuing to devour your quivering cunt with the desperation of a man deprived. “So fucking wet.”

You squirmed, the sensation of him mouthing you, lapping at your folds, circling the entrance of your pussy, spinning into an intense whirlwind.

“That’s it,” Satoru instructed, feeling how your muscles were clenching and releasing rapidly. “Let go. Cum for me.”

Everything within you pulled taut, tightening into a pressure cooker of overwhelming ecstasy, bursting violently in an explosion of strangled cries moaning Satoru’s name, your back lurching off your bed, stars swimming in your blackened vision.

And as the explosion roiled through your trembling body, Satoru continued to tantalize every inch of you between your thighs, firmly holding your erratically bucking hips in place, until you softened into a quivering mess.

“Geez, number two, didn’t know you could scream like that.” Satoru smugly smirked, wiping his mouth and chin with the back of his hand. 

“Don’t call me that,” you mumbled, flushing from the embarrassment of how hard you just unraveled for him. “Aren’t you a little too dressed to fuck me?”

“Want me that badly, huh?” 

But the speed at which he kicked off his own jeans and briefs betrayed how much he needed to be buried deep inside you.

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head when he sprang free. 

It wasn’t as if you’d seen many dicks in your life outside of movies or TV, but fuck… Satoru wasn’t just big… He was big. The man was fucking blessed.

Without meaning to, you whimpered, your stare fixated on his blessed appendage, wondering how the hell it was going to fit into your virgin cunt.

“That’s not going to fit.”

“I’ll go slow, don’t worry.”

Your eyes flickered from his dick to his surprisingly gentle face, a grimace of distrust written all over yours. “Satoru, you’re too big, I–”

“Sweets,” Satoru calmly said, gazing gently into your eyes with assurance. “It might hurt a bit, but I’ll be gentle. I promise.”

You swallowed thickly, but you nodded. Satoru smiled, a genuine smile absent of any teasing, and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Let me know if you need to stop.”

Another nod.

Satoru positioned himself at your entrance, sliding the remnants of your climax along his erection. He pushed gently, slowly sinking his tip in past the tight entrance.

You hissed, the sudden sensation of yourself stretching to accommodate him deliriously painful in the best way. Satoru waited patiently for you to adjust to him, and when you relaxed, he painstakingly slowly pushed further in, inch by inch. 

“You doing okay?”

“Yeah,” you rasped.

Satoru was shaking, the exertion of holding himself up not to crush you, controlling himself to sink in slowly, forcing him to hold a static position for a prolonged period of time. He was concentrating so hard, the tip of his tongue poked out from the corner of his mouth.

Had Satoru always been this adorable?

Or maybe his dick was just that magical, making you think the most infuriating man alive on this planet was adorable.

Satoru sank in another inch. You groaned. He was stretching you out, dragging along your walls as he sank in, filling you to a fullness you didn’t even know existed.

“Are you not in yet?”

Satoru paused, letting out the most indignant exhale of air. “Are you serious right now?”

You stifled a giggle, but you weren’t trying to be silly. It was sweet how Satoru was taking his time for you, but you wanted to feel him, buried to the hilt, filling you overwhelmingly so that he was all you could think about.

Fuck it.

You wrapped your legs around his waist tightly, hurling his hips into yours for the last couple of inches.

Satoru swore under his breath, but you barely heard him. That last forceful push in meant his tip barreled into your cervix, and fuck… fuck, did that hurt.

Tears welled in your eyes from the dull ache throbbing in your lower belly. 

Satoru brushed your hair back, keeping his hips as still as he possibly could. “Hey, hey, hey,” he cooed. “Breathe, breathe.” 

A tear slid down your cheek, which Satoru wiped away. You gasped, breathing heavily as you waited for the ache to dissipate, focusing on the air entering your lungs and exiting through your mouth.

“Why’d you do that? Should’ve let me handle it,” Satoru fussed, rubbing soothing circles in your skin and placing gentle kisses on your cheeks.

“I wanted to feel you,” you wheezed, feeling like a downright idiot, but also pleased with how fully buried he was in your warmth. “But you’re too fucking big.”

“Tch… silly girl,” Satoru grumbled, but the corners of his mouth twisted upwards. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” 

“I’m going to start moving now, is that okay?”

“Yeah.”

Satoru brushed his lips on your forehead where he flicked it earlier that night, and without taking his eyes off of you, started with tiny, slow thrusts. He was barely moving, but even his tiny thrusts were sinfully divine. You rolled your hips with his, wanting more.

“Fuck,” Satoru hissed. “I can’t hold back if you squeeze me that tight.”

“Don’t.”

Satoru broke. He laced his hand with yours holding it tightly above your head, and drove into you frenetically, nuzzling his mouth into the crook of your neck, nipping the soft skin. The heat between your writhing bodies all-consuming, a blazing inferno caught in the dizzying tornado of passion.

You clung to him, deep, thready moans tumbling from your lush, parted lips.

“Satoru…”

“Keep saying my name.”

You whispered his name, the pressure of him moving inside you filling you with a torrential flood of euphoric sensations, reducing you to a puddle of whimpers under his powerful, frantic thrusts. His strokes were unbearably hot, waves of searing pleasure overtaking you, receding and building, incensed by the obscene grunts escaping him.

“I– fuck.” Satoru bit your shoulder hard, growling unrestrained, primal. “Where do you want me to cum?”

It was a bad idea. It was quite possibly one of the worst ideas you’ve had in a while, but it didn’t matter, you wanted to feel him, you wanted him to claim you as his, you wanted him to mark you with his animalistic need.

“In– inside…”

Satoru let out a long maddening moan, so full of his desire, pouring into you in a frenzy, you hit your peak, pulsating around him desperately, unraveling at the sensation of his burning cum coating you inside in erratic bursts. 

The two of you shook against one another, heaving as the cloud of ecstasy receded and your breaths calmed to normal. Satoru slumped to his side, pulling you into his chest, pressing a light kiss to your temple.

He chuckled, still wrapped in the hazy aftermath of your shared bliss. “I’ve wanted to do that forever.”

You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Geez, miss number two,” he grinned down at you, “do I really gotta spell it out for you? Thought you were smarter than that.”

“Don’t call me that,” you retorted. “Spell what out for me?”

Satoru grumbled something you couldn’t quite catch, yelping when you pinched his side, but wrapped his arms around you even tighter, sighing. “It means, I’ve had a crush on you since last year.”

Oh… Your eyes bugged when it sank in. Oh.

Gojo fucking Satoru had a crush on you.

You.

Out of all the women you knew he could choose from…

You.

Your face grew uncomfortably hot. Embarrassed, you buried your face in his chest. You felt Satoru shift, squirming at your silence.

“Say something, will ya? Before this gets more awkward?”

You bit back a groan. “I–” Fuck, you weren’t ready for this. “I think… I think I like you too,” and because you were so embarrassed and upset with how fucking smooth he was, you added, “when you’re not pissing me off.”

Satoru snickered. “So, like we dating now or what?”

“I– I guess?”

“What do you mean by I guess?” 

Satoru sounded downright offended. Cute.

“Yes, we’re dating,” you clarified, grumbling that he was making you spell it out for him. “Especially if I get your magical dick all to myself.”

“Magical dick, huh?” Satoru chuckled. “So, miss number two–”

“You really need to stop calling me number two.”

This whole thing was madness. God, Gojo Satoru drove you fucking insane. In more ways than one.

“What should I call you then?”

Brat. 

You rolled your eyes. “How about just my name?”

Satoru hummed, the gears in his head turning. “I know, I’ll call you my number one.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he craned down to meet your eyes, glittering with a mischievous sparkle, “you’re number one in my heart.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Ugh. Fucking Gojo Satoru.

Feeling your blush deepen, you buried yourself into his chest again, rubbing into the space between his pecs ferociously. “You’re so fucking cheesy, S’toru.”

“Admit it, you fucking love it.” 

You knew that tone of voice. It was the one that came out when he had that adorable boyish grin on his face.

“No,” you grumbled.

But you did. You fucking loved it.

Not that you’d ever admit it.

[richarlotte]

The Health Club Aura.

When I was working at my local country club, I had a member tell me that I had a health club aura. She told me that every time she saw me, I always looked refreshed, my hair was always perfect, my makeup stayed on point, my nails were beautiful, and I had an aura of health and wellness around me. I wore entirely white outfits, and she told me that she’d seen me at the end of long shifts, and I always looked like I’d just started. I always smiled, and I was an island of relaxation in an otherwise fast paced club and course.

Hydration, skincare, losing weight, and proper nutrition played the biggest roles in getting this aura. I completely changed my diet and started drinking the cucumber, lemon-lime, and fruit infused water that was available in the club. I lessened the amount of processed food I was eating and started watching what I ate, and I was obviously walking and putting my back into the classes I would take in the health club area of my country club. I started Pilates and Barre and would take 2 classes per day, 5 days per week. Immersing myself in that world, following the lead of my friends, and spending time in that environment really improved me and helped to shape my mind.

As for looks, all of the girls who were working as Bev Cart Girls or Front Desk Girls had a rule. We could wear the colors of the club, lighter colors, or bright white. Because I would rotate between my cart and the front desk, I’d wear white exercise sets. I thought they popped on my skin; I kept my hair long and loose; I wore white tennis shoes and visors; and I always had natural makeup and French tips. I grew up in a high-income neighborhood, and this club was known to tip well, but on my best day on my cart, I made around $2,100 in cash tips. Physical beauty wasn't huge and weight was “negotiable”, but fitting the part and conveying a vibe of relaxed luxury absolutely was.

My personality was absolutely what carried me. I’m definitely extroverted; I love being social with people and getting to know my peers, and I think that having a good personality and being willing to spend time getting to know people absolutely changed things for me. As soon as I started putting an effort into getting to know people, I found that more and more people wanted to get to know me. An integral part of the job was just sitting up front, taking names, checking people in and out, and asking how their day had been before they came to see me. It wasn’t just men; it was women and teenagers too. This job and the social skills I learned from it completely how I view the world now.

The most important thing that the job gave me was the health club aura I had. I learned so much from women who came from high-profile families in my city and worked alongside their daughters; I made some of the best money of my life; and I made connections and met people who elevated me to better jobs, gave me more opportunities, and played their part in my life. It's really just a jokey nickname for the way people view me; I think that it's a play on the fact that my home club had a group of young women who called themselves the Health Club Girls. Life is about putting yourself in proximity to privilege in order to level up with less difficulty, and for me, that meant working somewhere where I could watch and learn.

TL;DR: Sometimes you have to apply to jobs that will give you access to the life you want and use those jobs as stepping stones to a connections and a better life. It’s working smart, not hard.

[natailiatulls07]

could i request some leclerc!reader and so comfort with charles please

It's okay

Arthur Leclerc Charles Leclerc Lorenzo Leclerc Pascale Leclerc & Leclerc!reader

Summary - In order to find her way in life, Y/n Leclerc runs away in the dead of night only leaving a note

Warning - neglection, running away

-

Growing up with three older brothers and two of such competing in karting competions, life was hard for Y/n Leclerc. Pascale and Hervé invested lots of their money and energy into Arthur and Charles.

When she was seven, Y/n's interest in ballet started. The young girl had her heart set on being a professional ballerina. So thats what she did. Y/n convince Pascale to enrol her in ballet class.

From then on, she became more and more talented. Quickly becoming the top of class. Yet when recitals came round and she was the lead, the only person who came to watch was Lorenzo.

The rest of the family were out at karting competitions cheering on Charles and Arthur. Yes they would apolgise to Y/n for their absence but to her it never really felt quite right.

-

Y/n was 14 years old, life got harder. Karting turned to formula 2 and E. Lorenzo now building his own life, he moved out of the house.

And the worst of all, Hervé Leclerc passed away. This meant attention was limited, Pascale was busy. She had her salon to run, she was running around supporting the two boys racing and she was mourning the lose of her partner.

As much as he wanted to support Y/n during her recitals, Lorenzos life became busier and he could no longer come along each recital. She felt as though no one her family could see her or her talent.

So what did she do? Y/n collected enough money to enrol herself into a ballet academy. In the dead of night she packed just enough and left without a sound. Of course she couldn't leave without leaving a note, she loved her family.

Dear Maman, Charlie and Arthur, I love you all dearly, please don't worry about me. I will be gone for a while, Lo Lo knows where I will be but please do not pester him. Thank you for everything and more Love from your dearest daughter, Y/n xx

-

Y/n Leclerc was a sensation, one of the best of her age. She was a household name, even if you weren't that well educated on ballet you knew who this elegant women was.

However, it was rare for the ballerina to speak publicily, Espercially as many would ask of her surname and family relations. And it wasn't hard to understand why.

"So Y/n please tell me, any relation to formula one driver Charles Leclerc?"

"No comment, thank you"

Charles, Arthur, Pascale and Lorenzo watched on, following her social media through burner accounts not wanting to make this harder for Y/n.

They could see how she spent most of her time dancing, spending time to herself or getting cocktails with friends she made along the way.

~

yourusername

Week in my life...

Spending time alone, you must prioritize self care

Fruit cocktails with friends, the key to my heart

Looking after the minis, they're the cutest little things

Lounging on my sofa after a long day of rehearsals, it is tiring!

Liked by cl_2648749 and 146,283 others

comments are limited

username Gorg gorg girlie

cl_2648749 <3

username I so wanna be her friend omfggg

~

But she wasn't stupid, Y/n knew who those burner accounts were. Every single post, the burner accounts were there front and center. She felt their eyes on her, it was silly really but she constantly felt like they were watching her.

However, Y/n felt warm with that in mind. Like they were finally noticing her for the first time. No longer was she fighting for the attension with her two older brothers. But was it just online? If she were to go back, would it go back to how it was before.

Plus she had built up a life on ballet. Y/n made a family with her friends. Everyone knew her, fuck she is a household name hiding her Leclerc identity from the world, even herself.

-

"I think it's a good idea! It's been long overdue in my opinion"

"No. We need to work to her choices, not make her uncomfortable."

"Okay when?!" Charles throws his arms in the air with frustration. He was pacing in front of the television; Arthur, Pascale and Lorenzo all sat on the sofa watching him.

The topic of Y/n came up in passing by Arthur and it became much more. Charles was fighting, he was desperate to get his dear little sister back home. However Lorenzo, knowing how Y/n felt about everything, was fighting back and trying to prioritize her feelings.

The constant pacing stopped abruptly, and Charles turned to look at Lorenzo with a harsh glare. "Why do you want to so desperately work to her choices? Are you in contact with her?" You could hear a penny drop.

Eyes snapped over to the oldest boy, all confused and harsh. Lorenzo sunk into himself. "I um..." He took a deep breath before continuing. "Yeah um so I kept contact with her yes"

"Is she okay?" The first question Pascale asked. Years of guilt plagued her mind, she neglected her own daughter and she was now paying the price for that.

Lorenzo nodded. "Yes, she's okay...Y/n she um built up a family through her friends and as you know she is doing well for herself..." A small proud smile morphed onto his face, he was proud of her for doing this for herself.

"Does she hate us for what we did?"

He breathed in and out. "No, she doesn't hate any of us...she understands completely..." That did ease some guilt for the other three, it would of killed them to know that she hated them, her own family.

There was silence for a couple of minutes whilst they all fell into their own thoughts. And then Pascale spoke up again. "Can you at least text her or call her whatever...talk to her, please tell her that we love her and that we want to see her again...we're so so proud and sorry"

Arthur and Charles both nodded in agreement. "I'll see what I can do..." Lorenzo promised.

-

It seemed that the next time they would see Y/n would come round much soon than expected. It wasn't planned, totally sporadic.

Charles was in the kitchen, in Lorenzos apartment. He was scrolling through his phone when there was a ring coming from Lorenzos phone. "Lorenzo! Your phone, it's ring!" Looking over the driver read the name.

Y/n

He knew it was wrong to answer the call, but it felt right like this would do something so he did. Charles picked up the phone and answer.

Before he could speak the voice he missed so dear filled his ear, yet it was panicked and he could hear uneven breathing.

"Lo I'm sorry please, I came back to Monte C but uh um the paps they um oh my god I can't breathe they keep following me! Please please I don't- I don't know where to go!" He missed her voice, granted it for much more mature and wiser now, he still missed it.

Though he was entranced by the situation, now very concerned. "It's okay, it's okay" His mind was on speed mode, much like it was in the car. "Send me the location, I'll come and collect you"

Y/n's voice came out calmer and confused now. "Cha...is that you?"

Charles nodded his head before realising she couldn't see him. "Yeah um it is Cha, I'm on my way" He rushed down to his ferrari.

-

Pulling up to her location, his heart clenched. Y/n had grown so much since he had last seen her, she had grown into herself and looked alot like Pascale now.

Charles climbed out of his car, walking over to her and collided her into a bone crushing hug. "Oh chérie, je suis vraiment désolé..." Oh darling, I'm so sorry

Tears soaked his shoulder, the whole chaos of the day and reuniting with her older brother weighing down on Y/n had finally toppled off completely.

She couldn't speak, just hung onto him. That long time spent away from her family catching up to her. "It's okay...it's okay..." Charles whispered in her ear.

-

[xomakara]

Sweat and Seduction

(re-posting from my old account seulrinnie-rinrin/xomakara-secondary)

SUMMARY | You're a yoga instructor that teaches yoga and well-being. When the girls in your class get distracted by Yeosang, a regular gym client, you can't help but fall for him too.

PAIRING | Yeosang x Reader

GENRE/CONTENT/WARNINGS | gymrat!Yeosang, yogateacher!Reader, non-idol au, smut (with some plot), consensual sex, vaginal sex (wrap it up y’all!), oral sex, dirty talk

RATING | Mature, Explicit, 18+, NSFW, MDNI

LENGTH | 4,119 words

TAGLIST |  @yeostinys

NETWORKS |  @cromernet (reuploaded so only tagging nets that haven't reblogged it yet)

AUTHOR’S NOTE | Took me a bit to write this so I hope it turns out well. I hope you all like, comment, reblog since it would mean the world to me.

Here's the original request:

“Girl, look at him.”

“Oh my god, he’s so hot.”

“You think he’s single?”

You looked at the man that the girls from your yoga class were oogling over. He was wearing a tight fitting black muscle tank with gray sweatpants. You knew who he was because every other day they made some sort of comment about how good looking he was or how great his body was. The one that really caught your attention was when one girl said ‘I want to lick his abs all day long.’

Not that you don't blame her. You had thoughts like that about him too.

Kang Yeosang was a regular at your gym and you’d often see him about three or four times a week. He’d always work out at the same time and leave at the same time. Some days he would bring his equally attractive friends with him but most days it was just him. His beautiful face and rock hard body really stood out amongst the rest of the guys there. Most of the guys in the gym usually dressed up a bit but Yeosang stuck to more basic workout wear which really highlighted his features.

A lot of women probably felt the same way you did about him, wanting to be close to him and feel the strength he exuded. It wasn’t an easy task for him though, being a muscular hunk in a fitness center where everyone has good looks and muscles.

You always noticed him.

He noticed you too.

So when the girls started acting like little teenage girls and asking if he was single, you couldn’t help but overhear them as you finished stretching after your yoga class. You waved as some of the women in your class, happily married or taken, went on their way while the clearly single ones lingered around trying to get a glimpse of Yeosang again.

You walked up to the front desk and leaned against the counter to look at your friend who was finishing up checking in a client. Ari, your friend, shook her head as she looked at the girls that were still waiting for Yeosang to come back.

"Looks like they're at it again." She muttered.

You shrugged, "I'm already used to it. They did that when they saw Seonghwa a few weeks ago. Now he comes and works out at night only."

Ari laughed. "I don't blame him. The girls in your yoga class are horny as fuck."

You laughed. "Only the single ones."

"What about you?" Ari asked, a teasing smile on her face.

"What about me?"

"Aren't you horny for him too?" Ari nudged you. "I see the way he looks at you and the way you look at him."

"Pfft. He's just a regular here. Of course, we're going to look at each other. I teach classes here, remember?" You scoffed.

"That's not what I meant and you know it." Ari said. "He's so damn handsome. Just imagine if he wanted to… explore those muscles with you. Wouldn't you be down?"

"I mean..." You paused for a moment before answering. "Maybe... If he came on to me then sure, why not? But until then..."

Ari grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze. "Do you think you'd be able to turn him down?"

"With a face and body like that..." You bit your bottom lip. "Hell no. I'll take whatever I can get."

Ari laughed. "Well good luck my friend. You'll tell me all about it, won't you?"

You grinned. "Yeah, yeah. You have my word."

You watched as Ari chased out your students since your class was over. It wasn't time for you to leave the gym yet, so you were helping some of the staff disinfect equipment and do last minute cleaning. While you were wiping the handle of the dumbbells, Yeosang came walking towards you.

The hair on the back of your neck stood up and goosebumps spread across your arms as he walked closer to you. His body language seemed casual, but you could tell something was different about him today. There was something else behind his eyes, like he was determined.

“Ms Y/N?” You heard his deep voice call out your name and you couldn’t help but shiver at the sound of it. You slowly turned your head and found yourself staring into his dark chocolate brown eyes.

“Yes?” You replied, suddenly feeling very nervous. What was wrong with you? This guy is just another normal customer at the gym!

“By chance, do you have any openings in your yoga class?” Yeosang asked. “Preferably anything at night or with your married students because I’m worried that the single girls in your morning class would jump me.”

“Sure. Come by tomorrow afternoon after my last class. We’ll discuss the details then.” You smiled at him.

Yeosang nodded and flashed you a dazzling smile before heading off to work out somewhere else in the gym.

Ari was by your side in an instant. "Ohhhhhh, did I see you talk to Mr Hunk? What did he say? Did he ask you out?"

You shook your head. "He wants to take one of my classes. That's it."

"Ouuuuu." Ari nudged you. "You'll tell me all about it, right?"

"Yes. Definitely." You laughed. "Now go help somebody else. I've got work to do."

As you continued working, you kept thinking about Yeosang and the possibility of teaching him. Not many men had this much confidence to approach you directly without being creepy. That coupled with his physical appearance meant that he would likely have no problem doing yoga poses during the class and showing off his rock hard body.

His muscles and stamina could easily rival yours.

And maybe you’d get a good workout in yourself along the way.

The next day, after your yoga class, you had an idea. You were curious if Yeosang was the type of man who could keep up with you or not.

"Hey Yeosang, do you mind sticking around for a few minutes after class?" You asked, watching him carefully. "I need someone to try out a new pose with."

Yeosang looked at you curiously. "Sure, no problem. I'll be here."

"Great. Thank you."

After everyone left the room, you pulled Yeosang into the back to discuss the details of him joining your class. You explained to him that you needed a male volunteer so you could have him try out the different poses and make sure that it was suitable for both genders. He agreed and the two of you walked back to the front of the gym.

"Are you ready to try some of these poses?" You asked him.

Yeosang smirked and nodded.

"Okay, let's start with a simple one." You said, getting into a position and waiting for him to copy it.

Yeosang followed your lead, mirroring you. His eyes never left yours, making you blush slightly.

"Alright, now try the next one." You told him, demonstrating the pose.

Yeosang took a step forward and reached down, placing one hand on the floor. Then he placed his other hand next to his foot.

"Perfect." You praised him, smiling widely.

Yeosang stayed there for a moment before lifting his head up and staring into your eyes once more. He moved forward, his lips inches away from yours. Your breath hitched and you swallowed nervously.

"How did I do?" He asked quietly, his breath ghosting over your skin.

"Good job." You whispered.

"Thanks." He mumbled. "What's next?"

You gulped, your mouth suddenly dry. "Um... let's try something harder."

Yeosang nodded, keeping eye contact.

You led him through the rest of the poses, taking your time with each one. Yeosang watched intently, making sure to follow every direction. You tried not to stare at his body too much, but it was difficult not to.

His shirt clung to him tightly, emphasizing his broad shoulders and muscular chest. The sleeves of his shirt stretched tightly across his biceps, showing off their impressive size. He wore loose fitting black track pants that hung low on his hips.

After the last pose, Yeosang sat down beside you. You glanced over at him, seeing him wipe the sweat from his forehead.

"Well done. You've got a natural talent." You complimented him, trying to act normal despite the butterflies in your stomach.

"Thanks." Yeosang said, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

"It's getting late. Why don't we call it a day?" You suggested, standing up.

"Okay." He replied, standing up as well.

"See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, see you tomorrow."

As soon as Yeosang walked away, you let out a heavy sigh.

Holy shit.

You didn't expect him to be so fucking attractive.

It took a lot of self control not to stare at his ass while he walked away. You wanted to touch him so badly.

Your heart rate was racing and you could feel heat spreading throughout your body. You couldn't stop thinking about his beautiful face.

His lips.

His strong jawline.

His muscular arms.

You were absolutely smitten with him.

And you had no idea how to deal with it.

The next day, you met up with Ari to talk about the situation.

"Oh my god." She gasped when you told her what happened. "So you're gonna start teaching him every night? That's amazing! Are you excited?"

"Yeah, but I don't know if I can handle it." You groaned, covering your face with your hands.

"Why not? What happened?" Ari asked, her brows furrowed.

"He's so fucking hot." You whined, leaning forward and placing your head on the table.

Ari giggled. "Everyone in the whole gym knows he’s hot.”

"I know, but it's different. I've never had a guy affect me like this before." You sighed, shaking your head. "I can't focus on anything else when he's around."

"Maybe it's because he's a new student?" Ari suggested. “I mean sure he’s a regular gym rat but he’s new to yoga, isn’t he?”

"Maybe." You mumbled.

"Look, just take it easy. Don't overthink it. Just enjoy teaching him yoga. It'll be fun!" Ari assured you.

You nodded, sighing.

"Alright! Class is done for the day!" You called out to your class, waving goodbye to them as they exited the studio. "Good job everyone!"

Some of your students left quickly, wanting to get home to spend time with their family. Others stayed behind to chat. You welcomed them to stay and socialize a little longer but your mind kept drifting to Kang Yeosang.

It had been a few weeks and while most people enjoyed learning yoga and meditation, Yeosang seemed to take pleasure in challenging himself. At least that’s what you assumed seeing the way he worked so hard during your classes. He’d push himself to the limit and beyond. Whether it was practicing his leg stretches and balance or using light weights to challenge his core strength, Yeosang took your class seriously and tried to better himself.

Seeing someone appreciate your teaching like that always brought a sense of pride and happiness to you.

“It feels so good to stretch and loosen up after sitting at the computer all day.” A girl in her early twenties said as she stretched out her legs. “I swear it makes my back hurt less.”

You chuckled and nodded. “I totally agree. You should come to my evening class next week. Would you be interested?”

The woman nodded enthusiastically. “Of course! You’re so amazing Ms. Y/N. I love coming to your classes.”

Another woman came over to you and clasped your shoulder. “Your students seem to adore you. How long have you been teaching?”

“This will be my fifth year actually.” You replied. “Why do you ask?”

She smiled and gently squeezed your shoulder. “You deserve a big promotion or raise or something. Teaching others is your calling and you make us all feel so special.”

“Thank you.” You blushed.

“You’ve got such a positive aura around you and your presence seems to make everything so peaceful. You must have some kind of magic powers or something.” The woman giggled.

The compliments were nice to hear. Even as a young adult, you could understand how people responded to you. You didn’t consider yourself special, especially compared to the yoga teachers you’ve met throughout the years. However, the fact that people related to you made you happy. Your job isn’t exactly a typical 9-to-5 office job either.

Working in a school was fine for the first two years but then you became bored of having to sit through endless meetings and pointless lectures about students and parents. It was only when you began teaching yoga classes and participating in the training of new instructors that you found meaning in your life again. Seeing the transformation of people that first come to class as a total stranger and end up leaving a few hours later as a happier, calmer person was priceless. Being part of someone’s journey to becoming healthy and mentally stable was truly rewarding. You waved as the remaining students left the studio.

"Ms Y/N."

That deep voice snapped you out of your thoughts. You looked up and found a familiar pair of brown eyes staring back at you.

Your heart stopped.

Your mind immediately went blank. All you could focus on was that one word that you'd heard from his mouth.

You turn to look at Yeosang, the black muscle tank he wore hugging his body tightly, revealing every bulging muscle and ripple of toned skin. His perfectly sculpted abs were visible through the fabric and even his skin tone appeared darker against the stark dark material. His slightly messy hair covered his forehead, framing his face.

Everything about him screamed sexy and you instantly felt a stirring in your pants. As if you weren’t aroused enough already from having to stare at him throughout the entire class. You cleared your throat awkwardly, looking away as you mumbled, “Ah, Yeosang.”

Yeosang couldn't help but run his eyes over your body and even though he had just finished a grueling workout session, he was still dripping with sweat. Your outfit clung to your curves and his gaze lingered at the jade green crop top that exposed a sliver of cleavage and hugged your chest. The yoga pants you were wearing were form fitting, showing off your perfect ass.

There was no doubt that Yeosang knew exactly how fucking hot you looked.

"That was a great class," he says, his voice deep and smooth as velvet. "You have a real talent for teaching."

You feel yourself blushing even more deeply, pleased by the compliment. "Thank you," you reply, your voice a little hoarse. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"I especially liked the way you emphasized the connection between the body and mind," he continues, stepping closer. "It's a very sensual approach."

Your heart is pounding in your chest as you feel the heat radiating from his body. "Well, yoga is all about exploring and embracing our senses," you respond, your voice steady, although your insides are quivering with anticipation.

Yeosang's smile widens, and he leans in closer, his breath tickling your ear. "I think you're right," he whispers. "And I'd love to explore more of those senses with you."

Your breath catches in your throat as you place your hand on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart under your palm. "I think that can be arranged," you murmur, your voice low and inviting.

Without another word, Yeosang takes your hand and leads you out of the gym, his fingers gently entwining with yours. The touch of his skin against yours sends sparks racing through your body, and you can feel your nipples hardening, pressing against your sports bra.

He takes you to his place, a cozy apartment just a short walk away. As soon as the door closes behind you, he presses you against it, his lips crushing yours in a passionate kiss. You moan into his mouth, your hands roaming over his broad chest and down his strong back.

He breaks the kiss, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jawline and down your neck. "Let me worship your body," he whispers, his warm breath fanning over your sensitive skin. "Let me show you how much I've wanted this."

You nod, unable to form words as you're overcome with desire. Yeosang kneels before you, his strong hands sliding up your thighs, lifting your legs and wrapping them around his waist. His lips find the sensitive spot just behind your knee, and he kisses and nuzzles the delicate skin, sending shivers up your spine.

His fingers skirt the hem of your yoga pants, and with slow, deliberate movements, he peels them down your legs, exposing your bare pussy. You gasp as the cool air washes over your heated skin, and your eyes close as you feel his hot breath on your most intimate place.

Then, his tongue, wet and warm, laps at your clit, sending shocks of pleasure through your body. He teases the sensitive bud, circling and flicking it with the tip of his tongue, driving you wild. His fingers find your hole, and he slides one long digit inside, curling it to find that sweet spot that has you crying out.

You clutch at his shoulders, your fingers digging into his strong flesh as he works his magic on your pussy. With each stroke of his tongue and finger, your pleasure builds, coiling tighter and tighter in your core. You can feel the orgasm building, a tidal wave of sensation ready to crash over you.

"Come for me, baby," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "Let me taste your sweet cum."

At his words, your climax hits, washing over you like a tsunami. You cry out his name as you shudder and tremble, your juices flooding his waiting mouth. He licks you clean, savoring every last drop.

After your release has passed, you sag against the door, breathless and satisfied. You gaze up at Yeosang, a smile playing on your swollen lips. "That was..." you trail off, unable to find the right word. "Incredible."

"Let's not stop there," he murmurs, taking your hand and guiding you through the apartment. He leads you to a bedroom where a queen sized bed sits in the corner. The comforter is smooth and inviting, the perfect contrast to the solid wood bed frame.

Yeosang kisses you once more, deep and tender, tasting of your juices and his own spicy scent. With deft fingers, he tugs your sports bra up, setting your breasts free. His lips find your nipples, sucking and teasing the hardened peaks as his hands roam over your body, exploring every curve and valley.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he breathes, pulling you flush against him so that you can feel his hardness pressing against your thigh. "I want to see all of you. Every single inch."

You oblige, stepping out of his grasp to remove the last bits of clothing on your body. You feel no shame or hesitation, only pure, primal desire. Yeosang looks like he wants to devour you whole.

Once you're fully nude before him, Yeosang begins removing his clothes as well. It takes everything in you not to whimper at the sight of his hard cock springing free, bobbing heavily between his legs. Your core aches with need, and you step toward him, wrapping your hand around his thick length.

Yeosang groans, his head falling back as you stroke him. You take the opportunity to place hungry kisses along his neck and collarbone, before trailing down to his muscular chest. Your tongue darts out, flicking his nipple, and he shudders in response.

"God, baby, you're driving me wild," he murmurs, gripping your hips and pulling you even closer.

"I want you," you whisper, your eyes shining with desire. "I want to feel you inside me."

With gentle but eager hands, he lifts you, pressing you against the mattress, your legs wrapped around his waist. Slowly, teasingly, he guides himself into you, filling you inch by inch. You moan loudly, your head falling back as you feel him stretch and fill you.

"So fucking tight and wet for me," Yeosang groans, rolling his hips, the movement sending delicious sensations coursing through your veins. "So fucking perfect."

You move with him, matching his rhythm, each thrust sending sparks of ecstasy through your body. You grip his strong shoulders, holding on for dear life as your passion grows. Your voices ring through the air, a mixture of moans and cries as the pleasure mounts.

Your toes begin to curl, your muscles beginning to tighten as your release grows ever closer. "Fuck, Yeosang," you gasp.

"Yes, baby," he growls, thrusting deeper, hitting that sweet spot inside you.

"Harder," you pleaded, your nails digging into his shoulders.

His hands find your ass cheeks, squeezing roughly, his hips smashing into yours, taking him even deeper than ever before. "You sure? You want more?"

"Oh god, yes," you whimpered, your eyes rolling back as his cock drags across that sensitive spot again.

With another sharp thrust, you can feel your release building within you, white-hot and desperate. Yeosang can feel your walls tightening around him, and his movements become almost frantic, driving the both of you closer to the edge.

"Y/N, you're so fucking good," he moans, his voice low and deep. "You like it when I fuck you like this? You like the way my cock fills you, stretches you?"

"Oh god, Yeosang, yes!" you cry, the filthy words spilling from his lips driving your pleasure higher than ever.

Yeosang grips your ass tighter, his fingers sinking into your flesh, as he picks up the pace. With each powerful thrust, he hits the deepest parts of you, sending waves of unadulterated ecstasy rushing through your body.

"That's right," he groans. "Come for me, Y/N. Come all over my cock."

"Oh, Yeosang...oh, fuck...I'm gonna...I'm..." Your words trail off into a loud cry as you feel your orgasm wash over you like a tidal wave. Pleasure crashes through every inch of your being, rippling through your core and leaving you weak and trembling.

Yeosang can feel your pulsing walls tightening around his throbbing cock, and it's more than he can bear. With a few last, savage thrusts, he finds his release, his hot seed shooting inside you, filling you completely. His hips stutter to a stop as his release washes through him, and he collapses on top of you, spent and utterly satisfied.

The two of you lay there in each other's arms, breathing ragged and hearts racing. For several moments, there is nothing but blissful silence. Finally, Yeosang speaks, breaking the tranquil stillness of the room.

"Y/N..." he trails off, shaking his head as a small, wondering laugh leaves his lips. "That was unbelievable."

You laugh along with him, feeling light-hearted and joyful. "You were pretty unbelievable yourself," you murmur, snuggling closer into him, breathing in the heady, masculine scent that lingers on his skin. "But honestly," you continue, smiling up at him, "I think I've got you beat. There's nothing like sex after yoga."

He raises an eyebrow. "No?" he says teasingly.

You shake your head, giggling as his fingertips trace idle patterns on your naked back. "Nope," you reply, your tone mischievous. "Nothing beats that feeling of relaxation, that deep satisfaction and contentment, knowing your body is now completely in tune with itself."

"That sounds pretty intense," he muses, nuzzling your neck, the warmth of his breath sending tingles along your spine. "And you know what? I can get down with intense. How do you feel now, after...all that?" he asks, his gaze meeting yours, full of heat and curiosity.

You pretend to consider, your brows furrowing in thought, before a wicked grin curls your lips. "Pretty damn incredible."

A pleased hum rumbles in his throat and a devilish twinkle appears in his eyes. "I guess I'll have to start coming to your class more often then," he murmurs, bending to capture your lips with his.

Your kiss is gentle and lingering, filled with emotion and understanding. After a few moments, you reluctantly pull back. "You sure about that? Might give everyone the wrong impression."

"Let them look." He smiles, kissing you deeply.

His warmth envelops your naked form as he wraps his arm around your back, his other hand settling over your breast, giving it a playful squeeze.

With your bodies tangled together, limbs entwined, you forget all about the outside world and lose yourselves in each other's company. You drift off to sleep, safe and comforted in Yeosang's embrace.

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Little Darling

Chapter 7 - I wanna be in love

It's 1997, and Elvis is still alive and well. He quit music in 1972 after a successful world tour, and now he runs Presley Studios - teaching people karate across America. His daughter and grandchildren are regular visitors at Graceland, and when he’s in Memphis he likes to do a little teaching. His life is quieter now, though. Most of the Mafia have gone - going to live their own lives - and after his divorce from his second wife, Elvis is sworn off women for good. Will a Welsh girl with a wicked sense of humour be the one to make him break his promise to himself not to fall in love again?

Need to catch up? Go here.

Pairing: Old Man!Elvis x OC - Tegan, a Welsh girl he meets at karate class.

Word Count: 3.9K ish

TWs: Possessive kink, dollification if you squint, Elvis is a little dominant, praise kink, use of Daddy in a sexual context, fingering, p in v sex, erectile dysfunction, crying, self-esteem issues.

Elvis spends the rest of the week living in Tegan’s apartment, trying to do something to keep it tidy and also trying to cook them both dinner. He burns a lot of things and ends up ordering a lot of deliveries, but she finds the fact that he keeps trying to do things for her that he’s never had to do for himself incredibly endearing. Elvis likes being in the apartment. It’s harder to feel lonely in a place so much smaller than Graceland, and he looks forward to Tegan coming home from work every day. He buys her little gifts to make up for the terrible food and also for the time when he did a load of washing and somehow managed to dye all of her white clothes pale pink. He reads and sometimes he calls Jerry, who he’s been missing lately and who he wants to update on his relationship more than anyone, for some reason. Maybe he’s trying to give the other man hope for the future, as he goes through what sounds like a messy divorce. Elvis empathises, more than he thinks his friend really realises. 

It’s Friday, and Elvis hears the clunk of the door and rushes to greet Tegan.

“Hey baby. Good day at work?” 

He already has his arms around her and is kissing her neck before she’s even got her shoes off. 

She giggles. “Yes, thanks. Tiring, but good.”

“Thought ya were never comin’ home.”

“Sorry, the session dragged on longer than expected.” She looks around the apartment. “What have you been up to?”

“Cleaning,” he replies, proudly. “Cleaned the kitchen. Mopped the floor.”

She turns her head and puts a hand up to stroke his cheek. “You’re getting to be such a good little house husband, ‘raur,” she teases. 

He growls in her ear, squeezing her and tickling her and making her squeal and laugh at the same time. “Don’tcha go tellin’ anyone about this. I’ve gotta reputation to live up ta.”

“I promise. I’ll tell them you just laze around all day, when you’re not having sex with supermodels.”

He sniggers. “It’s not lazin’, it’s post-coital recovery time.”

“Exactly.”

They look at one another for a moment and then he leans down and kisses her thoroughly.

“Gotcha a gift, baby.” 

Letting her go, he walks over to the kitchen counter, picking up the fancy bag there and handing it to her. 

“Of course you did, it’s a day with a y in it,” she replies. He pouts and plays at looking dejected, and she kisses him again. “I’m teasing. You know I love presents.”

“Presents,” he repeats, mimicking her accent. “Presents for Queenie.”

She puts the bag down and launches herself at him, telling him off for making fun of her whilst poking and tickling him. He laughs, easily fending her off for a while, but the more she tells him to stop taking the piss out of her accent the funnier he finds it, and he ends up giggling helplessly on the sofa, with her on top of him tickling him and making it worse. 

“Please… please… ahhh... I surrender!” 

She laughs and flops down onto his chest, both of them exhausted and breathing heavily. 

“Ya gonna open them?” He asks, when he’s got his breath back.

She sits up, half on his lap and half on the sofa. “Depends. Are you going to keep taking the piss out of me?”

Elvis bites his lip, sniggering and trying really hard not to make a comment about what she’d just said. “N-no, honey. I uh… I’ll keep quiet.”

“You better.”

He grins as he watches her get up and walk over to the bag. She’s wearing one of her work outfits, a brightly patterned blouse and a form-fitting pencil skirt, and he can’t help wishing that the apartment was wider so that he could watch her walking away from him for a little longer. 

“You looking at my arse, Mr. Presley?” She asks, walking back with the bag now. 

“Guilty as charged, ma’am.”

She snorts, sitting back down next to him and pulling two large boxes out of the bag. They’re both from a fancy clothes boutique, and she opens the first one to a sea of gold material. Finding spaghetti straps she decides it’s probably a dress, and lifts it up by them to get a better look at it. 

“For ya to wear tomorrow,” he says as she stares at it. 

“I thought it was just a casual barbeque?” 

The dress looks like something a disney princess would wear, with an asymmetrical skirt made of layers of gauzy golden material. 

“Yer my Queenie, so ya have to dress like one.” He smiles and kisses her. “Ya want a crown too? I bet I could get Lowell to make ya one.”

She giggles. “I don’t need a crown. Elvis, this is too much. This is something to wear to a fancy dinner, not a barbeque with Lisa and Maria and Sonny.”

He shakes his head. “I said yer wearin’ it, so yer wearin’ it.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” she replies, a teasing smile on her lips. 

His hand reaches for the necklace she’s wearing, holding the diamond-encrusted initials between his fingers. “Think ya know I am.”

She blushes, looking down at his fingers around the letters and squeezing her thighs together. He notices immediately and smirks, letting the necklace go and lightly slapping the side of her thigh. 

“C’mon. Open the other one.”

Putting the first box to the side, she pulls the lid off the second one. A gold bikini. She should’ve known. 

“Elvis it’s gorgeous, but…”

His hand, which had been resting on the outside of her thigh, shifts a little and gives her leg another firm slap. 

“Uh-uh. No. Yer wearin’ it under that dress. No arguments.”

She looks up into his bright blue eyes as they stare back at her. He looks deadly serious, but she can’t help pushing him a little. 

“I hope you’re going to be wearing something a bit nicer than this then.” She tugs at the sleeve of his tracksuit top. 

“Oooh woman! Do not test me!” He’s laughing a little at first, as he grabs her and pushes her onto the sofa cushions, rolling himself on top and pinning her beneath him. But then his face changes to complete seriousness. “I will wear whatever I goddamn please, and you will wear whatever I tell ya.” Her heart thumps in her chest and blood rushes in her ears as she stares back at him. 

The seriousness lasts for all of five seconds and then his mouth falls into that cute lopsided grin and his eyes shine with amusement. “I’m kiddin’, darlin’. But I think you’ll look damn good in that bikini and that dress. And I’ll wear somethin’ decent. Got my whole closet at home to choose from.”

She nods, her heart racing.

“You okay, baby?”

She blushes a deeper red and puts a hand over her eyes. “I kind of enjoyed that.”

“Oh really?”

“Mmmm.”

“So you’d like it if I told ya that ya had to wear those clothes? And I want yer nails painted to match?”

She nods, hand still over her eyes. “I kind of enjoyed the way you said it, too.” She bites her lip and cringes a little at her own words. He quite often played with being possessive in bed, telling her that her pussy belonged to him and he could have it whenever he wanted, but this was a bit different. This was something she didn’t know she liked.

Elvis smirks a little at how coy she’s being. He gently takes her hand off her face and gives her a reassuring kiss. Then he shifts so he can push her skirt up, briefly noticing her panties as he pushes them to the side and slides his fingers against her. She definitely had been enjoying it.

“You’re gonna wear what I tell you to,” he hisses, voice low and menacing in her ear. “No more arguments.”

His middle finger slides inside her, curling around and making her cry out. “Oh!”

“You’re gonna wear that goddamn dress tomorrow to the barbeque. I want you ta look good for me.”

His finger pumps in and out of her steadily. She whimpers.

“What’s ‘at?”

“Mmm. Yes. Yes I’m going to wear it.”

“Good girl.”

Tegan can hear her own breath coming out in little pants as she closes her eyes, feeling another finger pushing inside her alongside the first. 

“I don’t like these panties.”

Her eyes spring open again and she looks at him, nervously. “S-sorry,” she mumbles, her head spinning, trying to remember which ones she put on this morning. 

“Get rid of ‘em. I only want ya in matching sets.” His voice is low and even and his face is deadly serious, none of his usual smirking and joking and teasing. He’s enjoying himself though, watching the look on her face and feeling the way her body is reacting to him, her hips bucking into his hand. 

She closes her eyes, half-afraid of his serious expression, half turned on by it. She feels his fingers gripping her cheeks and opens them again. 

“You listenin’ ta me?” His tone is harsh and she nods quickly. 

“Y-yes. I won’t wear them again, I’ll throw them away.”

“Yes, what?” He asks, then presses his lips to her ear. “I know ya wanna call me somethin’, baby,” he murmurs, in an entirely softer tone. 

She’d nearly slipped up a couple of times when they were in bed together, responding “yes, d…Elvis…” and even murmuring “daddy” once, so quietly that he’d almost missed it. Her husband had been a little older, and she’d liked to call him that in bed sometimes. But she wasn’t sure how Elvis would feel about it, especially not after all of the stuff that had been written in the paper about their respective ages. So she’d tried to hold back, sticking to her Welsh pet names for him. But he’d obviously figured it out and now it seems like he wants her to say it. 

“Yes, Daddy,” she whispers. 

He growls, pushing her legs back and thrusting his fingers in and out of her harder and faster. She throws her head back and moans. He feels his dick hard in his pants at the same time as she is soaking wet and ready for him, and he doesn’t want to miss his opportunity. They’d fooled around a few more times since the disastrous attempt at Graceland, but she was never quite relaxed or turned on enough and he usually ended up losing his erection mid-way through. 

He hurriedly pulls his sweatpants down along with his boxer shorts, sliding his fingers back out of her as he pumps himself a few times with one hand. Her senses are still reeling, and so she doesn’t realise what’s happening until he starts to push inside her, stretching her so much it hurts a little. 

“Ow. Elvis!”

He looks up quickly, just about managing to pause what he’s doing and praying it doesn’t mean he’s about to lose his erection again. 

“Rub your dick on me, get it wetter.” Tegan knows she’s not really supposed to be telling him what to do right now, but that feels closer to penetration than anything that they’d done before, and she knows he just needs a little more lube. 

He grunts, pulling the tip back out of her and continuing his silent prayers about staying hard. Pulling her panties off and throwing them across the room, he pushes her legs back again and exposes her pussy, groaning at the way it’s glistening with her wetness. They both moan at the sensation of him rubbing himself against her, his foreskin moving back and forth on her puffy clit, desperate for stimulation. 

He huffs out a loud breath. 

“That’s enough,” he says, half to himself but also in an attempt to regain control of the situation. “Yer mine and I wanna fuck you.”

She whines at his words and then at his dick pushing inside her, this time making it past the head, the whole shaft sliding inside until his balls rest against her skin. She’s whimpering at how full she feels, and he just stays there for a moment, as the two of them stare at one another in something like disbelief. 

She props herself up on her elbows so she can look him right in the eye. 

“Please fuck me, Daddy.” 

The sofa is not the easiest place to have sex, and his knees slip every so often as he starts to thrust in and out of her. He grabs hold of the back of it for balance and although it’s deep he starts to worry a bit about falling off. Eventually she flops onto her back and holds her arms out for him, so he lays on top of her, kissing her needily as his hips jut into hers and her legs wrap around his waist. 

“Does it feel good?” He asks, between kisses. 

“Mmm. Yes. Really good. You?”

He nods, breathlessly. “Damn good.” His eyes close in pleasure and he buries his face in her neck. 

He starts to try and speed up his thrusts but the sofa cushions start sliding out, unbalancing both of them. 

“Ah, fuck.”

He pauses and they look at one another, both a little sweaty, their foreheads pressed together. 

“You think we can move to the bedroom?” She asks. 

“Think we’ll have ta try.”

They kiss a little more and then Elvis gets up, slowly pulling out, going back to his silent prayers. They shed their clothes as quickly as they can on their way to the bedroom, until they’re both naked in the bed. Elvis looks down and sighs. 

“Think that was one step too far fer the little guy.”

Tegan bursts out laughing. She finds Elvis’ tendency to talk about his dick like it’s its own person absolutely hilarious. 

“Well you laughin’ at him won’t help any, honey.” He frowns. 

“I’m laughing at you, not your dick.”

“Hmmm.” He tries to look annoyed but he can barely hold in his own amusement. 

“Let’s see if we can, er, perk him up a bit,” she says, wrapping her hand around Little Elvis and starting to work him up and down. “Think he liked it when you were kinda bossy to me, earlier.”

“Mmm.” Elvis’ hand strokes her side. “I think he did too.” He thinks for a moment. She’s naked now, so he can’t really say things about her clothes anymore, and he’s done her outfit for tomorrow. He always liked his girls to have nice hair and nails in the past though, and keep them done for him. Maybe that would work. 

“Don’t think yer keepin’ yerself lookin’ good enough fer me, are ya?” He begins.

Her eyes go wide, wondering what he means. “I-I don’t know. I try to look nice…” she trails off, a little unsure. 

He puts his hand in her hair and pulls it a little. “I want you in the salon every week so yer hair’s lookin’ real pretty for me at the weekend.”

She nods, rushing out a quick, “yes, Daddy,” when he looks stern. She feels him start to get harder in her hand again and pumps a little faster. 

“An’ no chips in yer nails,” he continues. “Can’t have ya goin’ round, lookin’ a mess.”

She can hear herself whimpering again, knowing his words are making her wet even as she worries a little that he does think she’s a mess and she’s not really pretty enough to be on his arm. 

His erection is back so he pulls her hand off his dick, knocking her onto her back and pushing her legs up. Continuing to grip her hand in his, he holds it up so he can examine her fingernails. He shakes his head, giving a low whistle and letting her hand drop back down onto the bed. 

“Ya better get those fixed fer tomorrow.”

He lines himself up and pushes inside her again, this time in one movement, making her groan and her eyes roll back in her head. 

“Ya hear me, little girl?”

She nods quickly. “Yes, Daddy. I’ll get them fixed. Ohhhh.”

He starts to move and now he’s on a mattress and not a sofa he goes hard and fast straight away. Holding onto her thigh with one hand and rubbing her clit with the other he pounds into her. Watching as her breasts bounce with every thrust and loving the feeling of her pussy hugging him tightly, he tries to pay attention to her movements, her breathing, her little tells. Wanting to know when she’s close. 

“Whose pussy is this, baby?” He asks, panting, feeling his own release starting to build as he sees her hands grasping at the bedding and balling into fists. 

“Yours, Daddy,” she moans back. 

“Good girl. Cum for Daddy.”

His thumb rubs her clit more firmly as he carries on his assault on her pussy, his orgasm right at the base of his dick now. As she arches her back she feels him hit somewhere inside her that makes her want to scream, and the combination of that and the way he’s touching her with his thumb is finally enough to trigger waves of pleasure washing over her as she cums. Feeling herself let go completely, the noises that fall from her mouth may as well be screams as her walls squeeze and squeeze and tip Elvis over the edge too, making him cum hard and deep inside her. He cries out in ecstasy, falling on top of her, and the two of them lie there together, dizzy with pleasure.

When he finally feels like he can move again, he rolls off her and pulls her into his arms. She puts an arm and a leg around him too, cuddling up close. 

“That was incredible. Baby, we did it!”

She buries her face in his chest. “I can’t believe it,” she mumbles into his skin. 

“Ya had a good time?” He asks, suddenly worried that her response isn’t quite as enthusiastic as he was expecting. 

“Mmm. Yeah, it was amazing.”

He strokes her back. “But?”

There’s a long pause, where she tries to work out what to say, how to phrase it so she doesn’t sound silly. Eventually she just looks up, shyly, and says, “do you think I look a mess?”

Elvis blinks, wondering why she’s asking, and then realises what he’d said to her earlier.

“Oh, no, honey. I think ya look beautiful, all the time,” he tells her, his hand on her face. “But I do kinda wanna show ya off…” he pauses, looking for her reaction. “I mean, I want people ta be blown away by ya.”

“Hmmmm.” She nibbles on her lower lip and digs her fingers into his chest hair. “So you meant what you said?”

He frowns. She’d definitely said she wanted him to talk like that to her, and now she seemed to be going back on it. “I’d never force ya ta do anythin’ ya didn’t want, honey. You don’t wanna wear that dress tomorrow, that’s up ta you. I was only playin’ coz ya said ya liked it. I don’t wanna upset ya.”

Tegan leans her head back down on his chest and sighs. She doesn’t know what she wants. She definitely enjoyed herself in the heat of the moment but now she’s scared again that he’s pretending she’s pretty. 

“What’s a matter, honey?” Elvis’ voice is low and gentle, and he accompanies the question with patterns traced on her back by his fingertips.

She lets out a long breath that she didn’t realise she’d been holding in. 

“You could be with someone much prettier than me. And… and now especially after…” she swallows and tries to collect herself and not cry. “...you… you’re going to find someone else.” Her shoulders shake and she finds herself crying anyway, the intensity of her orgasm and the feeling of closeness she’d shared with Elvis making her suddenly feel vulnerable and afraid. 

Elvis’ eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Hang on a minute…” he tips her face back up towards him and sees it streaked with tears. “What makes ya think I want anyone else? Ya think I’m gonna do yer laundry, cook yer dinners and mop yer kitchen floor and then go find someone else? Why would I do that?”

Tegan wipes her face a little. “Well let’s be honest now, you didn’t really successfully make much dinner.”

He pulls her up his body so that their foreheads are pressed together again. “I’ve never even tried ta make a woman dinner before you.”

She looks at him for a moment and then starts to cry again. 

“Oh baby,” he wraps both arms around her, holding her close. “What’s wrong?”

“Think you only wanted me because I didn’t care about your dick. And now we’ve had sex you’re just going to leave.”

She tries to roll off him again in embarrassment, but he holds onto her tightly, one hand on the back of her head and the other splayed across her back. 

“Tegan bach,” he begins, firmly. “I wanted you before I knew ya didn’t care about it, and after I knew, and I still want ya now, more than ever. It’s not like ya magically fixed me and now I’m on my way to fuck a bunch of supermodels. We’ve got somethin’ special here. Don’tcha think?”

“Y-yes. That’s why I’m a-afraid to l-lose it,” she sniffs. 

He kisses her gently on the mouth. “I’m sorry I ran away from ya so many times before, an’ fucked this up so many times, an’ ya had to wait fer me ta grow up and realise what I’ve got here. But I’m not goin’ anywhere now. I promise.”

She sniffs again and nods, although she’s still afraid. 

“Let’s dry these tears on this pretty little face, hm? See if ya can gimme a smile.” She moves so he can wipe the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. He kisses the end of her nose, making her smile slightly. 

“I went ta the store earlier,” he pauses for a minute to reflect and then changes his sentence. “Well, that’s not exactly true. Mary went ta the store fer me, an’ I asked her ta get ingredients for cottage pie.”

“Oh did you?” Tegan is smiling a little more now. “And what are you planning on doing with those then?”

“I was plannin’ on makin’ my Queenie dinner.”

“Well that sounds nice.”

She can almost see him thinking, like he desperately wants to ask her to help him, so it doesn’t end up burnt with lumpy mash, but he also really wants to save face. She decides to put him out of his misery.

“Do you want a glamorous assistant?”

He breathes a sigh of relief at her suggestion. “Fuck yes.”

They both giggle together again and Elvis looks at her lovingly. How she could think he’d want anyone else is beyond him, but he thinks he’ll have to keep showing her how much she means to him. He sits up and looks around for his clothes. The first step of that is making her an edible dinner. 

***

Part 8

Taglist:

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[springwitch8]

hots for teacher (melissa schemmenti x fem!reader)

part 2

summary: you've been infatuated with melissa schemmenti ever since you worked under her as a student teacher. what will happen when you meet again a few years later?

warnings: NSFW content, implied future smut (part 2 on the way??), praise kink, age gap idk

notes: hi everyone! my name is april, and this is my first ever fanfiction. i wrote this for fun and then decided to share it with the community, because i love the little gay women in my phone! i've been reading fics on tumblr for as long as i've been on the internet, so this is a strange experience for me. anyway, enjoy, and let me know what you guys think!

tonight you looked sexy, and you knew it. you wore a sinfully short black dress with colorful butterflies. it was one of your favorites; it showed just the right amount and hugged just the right places to be tantalizing. your eyes were painted with thin black wings and soft, glittery eyeshadow that made you look like a sweet dream. your lips glistened and your hair was tied up in two dutch braids. you were a vision.

all this meant that you were not the least bit surprised when a deep, sultry female voice sounded from behind where you sat at the bar.

"it should be illegal to look like that in public."

you smiled coyly and turned around to face the stranger.

"why? see something you like?" when you turned to face her, however, you were met with a familiar face. it was a face you'd seen in your dreams time after time: your former boss, melissa schemmenti.

you had been assigned to work with melissa as a student teacher while you were in school for your teaching certification. at the time, she was teaching two grades simultaneously, so she was grateful to have you there to ease the burden. it didn't hurt that you were always so eager to please. you wanted to learn and become the best teacher you could be.

of course, your motives weren't entirely pure. you were attracted to melissa from the moment you saw her. you remembered it like it was yesterday: her flaming red hair was slightly messy from trying to wrangle her double class, and her glasses sat askew on her nose. then you came along and turned everything around. she would give you to-do lists, and you would finish them before lunchtime the same day.

"great job, hon! you're so good, don't know what i'd do without you..." she'd say each time, beaming with pride at her new prodigee.

"o-of course, ms. schemmenti. what else can i do for you?" you'd respond, blushing profusely at the praise and struggling to hold her intense gaze.

within a week of having you, melissa was caught up on all her work. she couldn't help but feel like you were an angel, or some kind of gift from god. whatever you were, she cherished you. as the two of you spent more time together, she started to want you more and more. every project, every conversation, every smile you two shared only added to your chemistry.

she had fun with it--teasing you with special pet names and praise, watching you get all flustered and squirmy. she knew you liked her back. you weren't the most subtle about your desire.

melissa would never act on her feelings, though. you were a doe-eyed twenty-something with big dreams, and she was your much older boss. getting involved with you would be too messy. but she always held out hope, even after you left abbott, that one day you'd meet again.

you studied melissa's sly smirk for a moment, in disbelief at your luck. it had been two years since you left abbott. you had your own big girl job now, and you were a bit more mature. there was nothing stopping you from acting on your desires.

"oh my god, ms. schemmenti! please, have a drink with me. it's been a while." you hoped you didn't sound too desperate, although you definitely looked desperate once you got a good glance at her.

her look was striking. your breath hitched in your throat as you scanned her form, dressed in red leather pants and a button-down shirt. her arms were visibly muscled, even through the jacket. the black button-down shirt she wore was unbuttoned just enough to tease her cleavage. around her waist was a thick black belt that you wanted to pull on. her fiery hair was tied back haphazardly in a high ponytail, just messy enough to be sexy. and her hands—god, her fingers were long and ringed and—

"whatever you say, kid," she shrugged and sat down next to you, giving you a playful smile. "and you can call me melissa now."

she had a mischievous glint in her eye, probably knowing how you felt just by the wanton way you stared at her. when she sat down beside you, you felt your whole body heat up. your thighs were almost touching from the proximity, and you could smell her intoxicating perfume with each inhale. feeling her body so close to yours had you more drunk than the alcohol. it didn't help that her eyes now roamed over your body shamelessly, taking in your glistening lips and lingering on your soft cleavage. you tried your best to play it cool.

you talked for a while, catching up on everything. you told her about your new job at a suburban elementary school, your volunteer tutoring on the weekends, your summers in the mountains. she beamed with pride hearing of your accomplishments.

"that's great, y/n! sounds like you're goin' places."

"thank you! i think i owe a lot of my success to my student teaching experience—everyone at abbott was great, including you. especially you," you looked at her with an intense gaze, feeling your desire catch up with you.

"you were such a passionate mentor. you just had this way of getting me excited..." you trailed off as you fixated on the stirrings of a smirk on her face.

"...excited about learning," you finished shakily.

"mm-hmm," she chuckled.

maybe it was the alcohol, or the simple fact that she was right next to you and seemingly devouring you with her eyes, but you became bolder then. you only had one shot at this.

"i mean, you really touched me in a way that nobody else could," you leaned in, dragging out your syllables for emphasis. "i worked so hard because i just needed to be good for you."

now she was the one shuddering. you had the upper hand, if only for a moment. but she quickly got her boldness back.

"i noticed that. always so bright and attentive. i bragged to all the other teachers about what a good girl you were." to top it all off, she punctuated her sentence by placing her hand firmly on your knee.

you thought you were going to explode right then and there. your skin erupted in goosebumps at her touch, and you spread your legs ever so slightly to indicate your consent. her face split into a smug grin and she began to crawl her fingers up your thigh, agonizingly slowly.

your response came as a shaky whisper. you were sure you must have soaked through your panties just from her teasing touches.

"it's good to know that you thought so highly of me. i looked up to you a lot," you said sheepishly. "um, i'm a bit embarrassed to admit it, but i did have a bit of a crush on you..."

"oh, yeah. that doesn't surprise me. don't be embarrassed, hon. you can't help what you feel," her hand had stalled at the midpoint of your thigh, and she looked at you with sincerity.

"it doesn't surprise you?" you asked, struggling to get the words out once she resumed stroking your thigh.

"i had my suspicions," she said with a knowing smirk. "i'm sharper than i look, ya know."

her darkened eyes sent shivers down your spine. you felt your core heat up at the humiliation of knowing she knew exactly what you thought about her.

"am i that obvious?" you asked, somewhat breathily.

"oh, sweetheart," she laughed. she leaned in close and you could smell her perfume, feel the warmth of her breath on your skin. her fingers pinched the skin of your thigh as she whispered to you. "you sat five feet away from me for months, always wearin' those little black skirts. you think i didn't see you rub your thighs together every time i gave you praise?"

her hand now caressed your inner thigh softly, teasingly. you failed to respond, trying to process her words but finding yourself unable to do anything but whimper almost silently.

"so soft here. mhmm," she husked into your ear. there was a hint of giddiness in her voice, as if she was pleased with herself for taking you apart so easily. "does that feel good, princess? do you like it when i touch you?"

"yes!" you said, almost too loudly for the public setting. "yes, i like it very much."

"good," she whispered as her fingers found the edge of your panties. your thighs spread even wider, and you let out a small gasp.

"we've got lots more to catch up on, don't we?" she continued, her fingers drawing feather-light circles over your clit through the fabric. you wondered if she could feel you throbbing for her. your hips bucked up to meet her hand, and she slapped your thigh in warning. "if you wanna keep talkin', we can head back to mine..."

you turned to her with big, glazed-over eyes. still whimpering, you nodded rapidly, earning a laugh from the older woman. she grabbed your hand and guided you out of the packed bar.

"i'm gonna wreck you, hon," she mumbled without looking back at you.

[rjcolette]

college au! satoru gojo x reader x suguru geto

warnings:

smut

alcohol usage

mention of marijuana

threesome (they all want each other lol)

sub! satoru gojo

dom! suguru geto

switch! reader

masochism (satoru gojo)

sadism (suguru geto)

vibrating tongue/cock piercing

mommy kink (satoru gojo)

daddy kink (suguru geto)

praise kink (both)

degradation/humiliation kink (both)

size kink (both)

double penetration (both)

edging (both)

begging (both)

biting (both)

hair pulling (both)

breeding kink (satoru gojo)

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

he was the biggest fucking jerk you had probably ever met in your entire life. satoru gojo, classic fraternity dude stereotype with far too many bodies under his belt (no pun intended) and a cocky ass smirk that made you want to throttle your fist into his perfect, infuriatingly handsome face. you saw him way too often, more often than you should, and it felt like the universe was purposefully sticking its foot up your ass as some sort of sick joke to piss you off.

what you didn’t understand about his constant reoccurring presence is that you were just an average uni student — you made decent grades, mostly a’s and b’s with one c in your stats class (that course alone made you want to drop out and take your bitchass to mcdonalds to work [it didn’t sound so bad now that you considered it; better than doing math]), you went to class, most days, since you had a bad habit of skipping when you were tired, and you weren’t involved in any kind of fraternity or sorority at your university.

so why was he always around? you squinted your eyes, which were burning from your ebony tight liner and perfect black wing (which took you multiple tries to get just right), and your brows furrowed as your lip curled into a faint snarl. red, blue, and green hues of flashing party lights scalded your retinas, not making it much easier on your abused irises, as you beheld the white haired man laughing obnoxiously across the room. drunken and sleazy young men and women danced and chatted loudly amongst the booming music (you weren’t really paying attention to the annoying beat [perhaps it was the weeknd, or something like that…? you don’t know]) and obscured your vision in a huge mass of blurred red and green. you couldn’t identify any of the students here aside from satoru, and his best friend suguru geto, who he roared in very audible laughter across the room with, slinging an arm over his broad shoulders.

“everything okay, y/n?!” hollered your best friend, f/n, from beside you. the question was spoken with half-concern, as she was so elated by her drunken state with a tall bottle of pink whitney in her grip a giggle escaped her lips once she uttered it. you scoffed quietly, so silently she undoubtedly did not catch it, and you shook your head to respond.

“satoru gojo is over there. again,” you scowled, whipping your head around to scrutinize f/n. she only smiled sleazily, her dark eyes half-lidded and amused, albeit slightly worried. you didn’t care enough to wonder if she was cross-faded, but you did find yourself wondering where she got weed if she was because, frankly, you wouldn’t care for a hit right about now either. “why am i always fucking running into that guy?” you jabbed a finger back.

she shrugged, grinning and slinging a hand over your shoulder and pulling you to her. she stumbled weakly onto your side, unable to balance herself properly. she snickered. “ah. that white haired motherfucker your always yappin about? we do see him a lot, don’t we?”

you and f/n were avid frat party attendees, despite either of you not being involved in any kind of frat yourself. she always slept around on fridays like these, and usually, she’d disappear at some point at the party to go fuck a guy or girl and you wouldn’t see her again until the morning back at your dorm. whatever. she was your best friend and roommate and you cared deeply for her, but she was also an adult who could handle her own shit. you weren’t her babysitter.

“yeah. we,” you said dryly, curling your lip. “it’s more my fault. i think i’m cursed.” you groaned, burying your face in your hands.

“how so?!” she shouted over the loud r&b music. she didn’t necessarily need to shout, as she was close enough to your face you could smell the alcohol on her breath. you could count each perfect tooth she had (she recently got her braces off she had had since middle school [her teeth were really fucked up; she showed you old pictures]) and they glistened in the flashing led lights of the stuffy, stifling mass of party people surrounding the two of you. you presumed her intoxication also prevented her from properly comprehending her volume either, so you cast aside your irritation for a moment to reply.

“it’s me who always fucking sees him,” you said. you side-eyed satoru, now stumbling onto suguru geto as he sang along to the song that was playing. you blinked and and suddenly could not look away. “…it bothers me, because he looks so damn familiar. i just can’t put my finger on it.”

“maybe you met him in a past life! ha!” she howled in hilarity. she would think a flamingo with a thong on was funny right now. you liked her a lot more when she was sober.

“maybe,” you entertained her. your head was hurting, and you sighed in frustration as a sharp pang went through your brain. now your mood was soured, seeing satoru now of all times. you had just recently failed an exam in stats and you were looking to take the edge off with your routine frat party with f/n, and just as you had started to loosen up and relax and convince yourself you’d get your grade up with the next dumbass exam, you spotted him. walking to class, eating at local restaurants, shopping, the gym, fuck, he was in half of your classes — the universe thought this was all some sort of big ass joke, didn’t it? forcing you to always run into satoru with no explanation as to why… no reasoning for why he was also so fucking familiar to you.

and every time you would see him, you’d stare in a mixture of complicated emotions — awe, envy, disgust, confusion, and a sort of distant contemplation. you were in awe by his beauty every time, of course, because he was uncomfortably gorgeous, envy because he was so utterly confident in himself it made your stomach lurch with jealousy and desire, disgust because his perfection was incredibly revolting, and confusion and distant contemplation for obvious reasons — why did you always see him? why did you recognize him? and why… just at that moment, satoru came down from his laughing high, his arms still holding onto suguru but slipping, and his heavenly blue irises met your own from across the crowded, stuffy room, and grinned, raising his slim brows… why did he always look at you like he knew what you were thinking?

“something wrong?” mumbled f/n with a slur, sloshing her pink whitney around as she stumbled forward, accidentally tripping over someone’s foot (or was it somebody’s clothes? perhaps a discarded red solo cup? you didn’t know, or give a shit). “you look-“ she began to giggle, and you scoffed very audibly this time and practically snatched the pink whitney bottle out of her hand and brought it to your dry lips. you winced as you chugged about a quarter of the bottle and prayed it would kick in fast before you did this. “y/n?!” her laughter faded.

“i’m gonna fucking talk to him,” you declared in determination. “see what his fucking deal is. i’m so done, f/n.” you shook your head, your brows furrowing. you never broke eye contact with satoru, who, when seeing you chug your bottle, only licked his perfect plump lips and smiled coyly. “so. done.”

you shoved the bottle back in her grip and f/n stumbled back, stammering. you ignored her. she’d probably run off and get bored any time now to go fuck somebody. good. a little sex never hurt anybody.

you were in your sophomore year of college and this man had haunted your thoughts every single day of every single damn semester since you started attending this university, and you had refused to speak a word to him that entire time. you were an adult, sure, but that doesn’t mean you’re very mature, especially when it comes to men. let’s say you have a a sort of superiority complex when it comes to guys, particularly guys like satoru gojo. but gojo was different — he was more infuriating than your average frat cuck.

“hey!” you shouted over the music, jabbing your finger into satoru’s flat chest. he wore a plain black tee and jeans that hugged his ass so nicely, and his pecs were visible through his thin shirt. his arm flexed as he brought his cup to his lips, taking a sip as he quirked a brow at your intrusion, his hair falling in loose waves over his beautiful eyes. “the fuck is your deal, pretty boy?” he smirked into his cup and lowered it, clearly caught off guard. after a millisecond when he did not reply, only grinned cockily (the bastard), you added, “huh?!”

“satoruuuuu,” a young woman in skimpy clothes whined from beside him, tugging on his shirt. you caught suguru sneak an annoyed glance at her, as if he was incredibly irritated at her intrusion between you and satoru. you narrowed your slim eyes. what the hell did he know..? gojo turned around himself to address the girl, who was trying to coax satoru to come dance with her and her other two girlfriends, all dressed like fucking whores. satoru spoke sultry and sweet to the women, declining them but also charming them with empty promises. to be expected from a man like him; he can’t stand women being disappointed in him or unattracted to him. mommy issues, you determined.

you took that moment to scrutinize geto as satoru was distracted. his eyes were thin and devilish, irises dark and sparkling under the flashing lights. his lips were thinner than satorus, his nose roman-shaped with prominent cheekbones and a slim, masculine face. satoru was more feminine-looking than him in a appearance, both in body and face, while suguru had broader shoulders and a thicker build. they seemed about the same height, however.

so this was satoru gojo’s best friend, suguru geto. he was undeniably gorgeous. he leaked masculinity and dominance, certainly the more strong and silent type. you saw satoru at the gym a lot when you were trying to get your steps in on the treadmill (you were deeply afraid of the freshman fifteen, even as a fucking sophomore), but you saw this guy even more. he loved the gym, and whenever you saw suguru there, he had on a pair of noise cancelling black headphones on lifting weights heavier than your entire body with one arm and a concentrated countenance — you knew his headphones were noise-cancelling because you had made the grave mistake of trying to speak to suguru once your freshman year in the gym to ask were the restrooms were located, and he simply stared ahead of him with an unreadable expression. you flushed, stood there for a moment, and then angrily walked off, muttering curses to yourself and towards suguru.

other than that, you didn’t mind him much. there was a sort of animosity you held towards him because of satoru in association, but other than that he was tolerable. you had spoken to him a few times, much more than you ever had to satoru, at the gym and in stats, which you had with him, and he was pretty chill. sometimes you’d catch yourself glaring at him from across the room and feel bad, but you couldn’t help it.

suguru smiled at you as gojo was turned away and looked you up and down. your hands were now planted firmly on your hips, and you suddenly felt very self-conscious as suguru scrutinized your figure. you were slim and slightly toned from the gym, and you were currently wearing a purple crop top and low-rise jeans. your hair was down and your usual makeup was done, which was dark and sultry (how you liked it), enchanting your eyes and lips. no matter how uncomfortably aware of yourself you wet becoming, you refused to show it. you had to surpass suguru and satoru’s unwavering frat-boy confidence with diligence and certainty, and this goal was reflected by the raising of your chin and narrowing of your eyes.

“you got a problem too, suguru geto?” you spat. you didn’t really mean it entirely. you actually somewhat admired suguru, but you felt determined to intimidate the both of them.

at this point the slutty girls bothering satoru had ran off giggling over some dumb shit, you were sure, and satoru had turned his attention back to you.

“well well well, what do we have here?” muttered satoru with a smirk, but suguru ignored him and instead regarded you with utmost lust and interest.

suguru’s eyes glimmered in amusement, his right arm relaxed by his side and his left on the small of satoru’s back as satoru leaned on his shoulders, his right arm slung lazily and drunkenly over his best friend. they had to have some sort of strange bromance going on, seeing how comfortable they were touching each other like that.

“i don’t,” replied suguru, and then he added casually, “i’ve actually been wanting to see you naked for a while.” he licked his lips. “you down?”

you almost choked on your own saliva. satoru broke out into obnoxious laughter beside him, but you were certain he was completely and utterly serious. your eyes were wide and your face flushed, and any confidence you were emitting previously had been dissipated in just a moment. you coughed violently and once finished with your fit, you gripped your right arm so tightly your knuckles turned white, and your hand slid down your mouth to speak.

“what the hell did you just say to me..?”

“you heard him,” grinned satoru. he titled his head, and it felt like his dumbass smirk was always getting bigger and bigger. it infuriated you how confident he always acted, and it perplexed you how it was even possible to be so certain of oneself. all of your conflicting emotions stupefied you as you stood dumbly before them, both of the cocky men towering over you with leaking with drunken lust and desire. the mood had shifted so suddenly you felt you were going to be sick. satoru slid his arm off of suguru slowly, and leaned towards you and tucked a strand of disheveled hair behind your ear. he was suddenly so close you could smell his prominent aroma — fresh laundry, mint, and, of course, alcohol, more particularly jack daniels. you scrunched your nose, catching the same scent from suguru as his dark navy long sleeve shirt caught the breeze of the ac behind him, jack daniels, but suguru himself had a more musky cologne, like foggy woods in the autumn season. jack daniels, you scoffed internally, your face still flushed from satoru’s close proximity and suguru’s previous confession — for frat boys, they were incredibly refined, the cream of the crop, you suppose.

catching yourself admiring the two, you scolded yourself in your head. what were you thinking?! these men were your enemies! they were both dicks. both of them. suguru geto was a little less insufferable, but still irritating nonetheless. you shouldn’t be having these thoughts.

but your heart couldn’t help but race as satoru’s warm minty breath tickled your earlobe as he spoke, and suddenly you were picturing them both naked, “we’ve had our eyes on you for a while, y/n. you’re the hottest chick that goes here, and fuck, you look sexy on that stairmaster in the gym. who would’ve guessed a beautiful and refined woman such as yourself would have such a slutty, plump, round fucking ass?”

your breath hitched, your body so hot you thought you would implode. you were so incredibly aware of all of the people yelling and singing and laughing around you, dancing and screaming in delight as people made out and greedily chugged alcohol out of their red cups all around you. the bass of the loud r&b music practically shook your bones, and the sensation of the thundering music and suguru and satoru’s intoxicating drunken scents made your head swim and your core throb. it pissed you off, the way you were suddenly feeling, but you were only a woman.

“how do you know me..?” you said breathlessly, roughly grabbing satoru’s waist with a quivering hand, reaching to angrily shove him off, but finding yourself unable to do so once you actually made physical contact with him. fuck, his scent was so alluring you couldn’t bring yourself to walk away right now if you could. and- you glanced up for just a moment- the way suguru was eyeing you like a starved wolf made your pussy clench around absolutely nothing. how long had it been since you had sex? you felt equal desire towards the two men and disgust towards your own selfish needs. “how…” you began, faltering for a moment, “..how do i.. know you? where have i fucking met you before..?”

“how could i forget my first..?” breathed gojo, his hand snaking down your back to harshly grip your ass, pulling you even closer to him, if humanely possible. suddenly, you were flush against satoru’s broad, flat chest, and you blinked and felt a weight pressing you from behind. your eyes widened. suguru. suguru geto was standing behind you, his huge erection pressing into the space between your asscheeks, the same once gojo was fondling with his hands. suguru buried his nose into the crook of your neck on the side opposite of satoru, inhaling your vanilla and plum perfume so deeply it’s as if he thought you’d disappear from him any moment.

“your..first..?” you questioned in shock, and then suddenly it hit you. in high school, junior year, you attended a halloween party thrown by one of your closest friends on the volleyball team, a senior, when her parents were out of town. you had snuck out to attend with your cousin (who you ended up not even staying with the entire time) and then you got super fucking drunk and were led off by an upperclassman boy on the basketball team. you don’t remember it clearly, just that it was when you lost your virginity in a slutty vampire costume (which you had no business wearing at seventeen, but you digress).

that was him? the revelation hit you like a truck. how could you not remember satoru from high school..? especially considering how otherworldly his beauty is. i mean, anyone would remember a face and personality like his, especially if he took your virginity. but you never would have guess you also took his that night. fuck… you were so drunk you hadn’t even remembered any of it until now.

“it was you..” you exhaled in remembrance, and your heart throbbed with so many conflicting emotions. you almost felt fond of him because of what he had reminded you of, but your previous dislike you had harbored of him since the beginning of university still lingered. you didn’t understand your feelings at all, and even less what was happening in the present moment. all you know is that you felt dizzy and incredibly drunk, and you don’t even know if you entirely regret chugging f/n’s bottle of pink whitney because if you hadn’t, you wouldn’t have ever been in the position you are right now — i mean, it was every young woman’s dream. sandwiched between two incredibly handsome, tall, sexy mean who craved you like you were the last woman alive on earth.

“mhm..” mumbled suguru in your other ear. you almost whined from the tingles that went down your spine. satoru nibbled on your earlobe slowly as suguru spoke, and you felt warmth pooling in your undergarment. “..you’re all satoru talks about. it’s honestly intriguing, how good he said you were, how tight… and now i want a taste. best friends should share, after all… right satoru..?”

“yes, they should,” smirked satoru in lust against your neck, which he had moved his plump lips to to leave messy wet butterfly kisses all the way down to your bare collarbones. your blood slammed against our veins in desire as the men touched you, and your entire body was on fire. “…let’s see if that pussy is still as fucking tight as it was back then, shall we..?”

you yelped as suguru roughly flipped you around and smacked your ass, hard, effortlessly hoisting your body up by your hips and throwing you lazily over his shoulder, knocking the breath out of your lungs for a moment. you gasped for air, partially from his actions and partially from the shock from what both satoru gojo and suguru geto had confessed to you, and suguru slapped your ass a second time and began to carry you through the mass of people partying all around you towards the stairs.

“h-hey!” you stammered in surprise, your face so hot you could fry an egg on it. “put me down!! what the fuck..?!”

before you knew it, you had made it to the top of the stairs of the frat house and had begun to be carried to the end of the hallway. the booming music and cacophony of laughter and talking from downstairs was significantly quieter up here as suguru took you into a room, which gojo opened the door to. you couldn’t see much but the floor over his shoulder, and everything was a messy blur around you both from your position and your drunkenness. satoru shut the door behind you and suguru and locked it. the bass of the music faintly shook the walls around you. the room was dark until satoru turned the lights on to a red led. of course. you had a feeling of what was about to happen.

suguru threw you down on the bed and practically ripped off his shirt, and you were still trying to gather yourself before you could ogle his perfectly sculpted and toned chest. his pants clung loosely to his hipbones, and his ebony hair, which was previously thrown into an attractive messy man bun, was now falling loosely over his thick shoulders, slightly dampened from sweat. his tongue darted out to wet his lips as his eyes fell over your form, scrambling back to the headboard of the king sized bed, looking around frantically.

this must be satoru’s room. he had silk navy blue sheets, and a star wars poster on the wall, which was almost cute if you weren’t so caught up in the moment. he had a gaming pc on his university-owned desk and messy homework papers scattered everywhere on top of the keyboard. he also had a shiny red electric guitar with a spiky, slim shape propped up on a guitar stand in the corner of the room, and you even noticed some luxury items, like bags and shoes and furniture, around the room as well. so satoru was rich and spoiled. you could have guessed that.

suguru caught you eyeballing the guitar as satoru walked up to be by his side, also taking his short-sleeve shirt off. you immediately looked away from the guitar and locked eyes with suguru, whole-heartedly aware of satoru gojo undressed beside him and refusing to let yourself look at him. despite your childlike fondness towards him for being your first back in high school, you still strongly disliked him for every that you knew he was — cocky, beautiful, spoiled, full of himself, and incredibly good in bed, from what you can recall.

“it’s mine. not satoru’s,” suguru says lowly, his voice grumbling in his chest as if hoping to gain your favor over satoru. so he was that type of guy, huh. the jealous, possessive type. well, you suppose you didn’t mind. you still liked him more than you did gojo, but maybe you were just trying to tell yourself that.

you swallowed dryly, accidentally catching a glimpse of satoru unbuckling his belt and you clenched your thighs, your face a flaming rouge. what was even going on right now? you were so fucking drunk. you couldn’t even tell somebody what day it was if you were asked. but at least you knew satoru and suguru were as well. you knew you weren’t being rational. you could easily get up, curse them both and even give one (probably gojo) a solid smack across the cheek for even trying anything with you, but you did none of those things. fuck, you were so wet just by the sounds of satoru and suguru’s voices and scents, and even more so by the fact that they’re beginning to undress and reveal their infuriatingly perfectly sculpted chests. you pictured their cocks and their individual sizes in your heads prematurely… satoru’s was probably thinner with a lighter hue to the tip, suguru’s thick with girth and darker in shade.

what you didn’t expect, however, was for suguru to unbuckle his pants and pull out a cock with a black piercing at the tip. you gaped at him with both awe and desire. i mean, he always had those huge black gauges in his earlobes, so it shouldn’t be entirely shocking other places were pierced too, but you definitely didn’t expect his…

“you like it?” he said with a smile, his brows raising in amusement. then, he stuck his tongue out, and by the stars above, it had a matching black piercing as well. you stifled a gasp when he said his next words. “they both vibrate. and guess who has the controls..?”

your eyes were wide with shock as you slowly latched your gaze onto satoru, now completely nude as he tilted his head with a wink with his arm outstretched. he placed a hand on the bed as if crawling towards you, shoving the screen of his phone in your face to reveal a sort of remote with a scale on it. you shuddered.

“you want it, don’t you.??” satoru whispered in lust as he lowered the phone and placed his hands on your cold waist, his hands warm and welcoming there. he hooked in slender fingers under the hem and slid off your top, and you allowed him. “you want that fat cock inside that tight, wet little pussy of yours, don’t you y/n..?” he grinned, his breaths falling against your collarbones quickly as he unbuttoned your jeans. suguru geto had moved behind you to unhook your lacy black bra, and you were awestruck and incredibly flustered, willing to let it all happen as you processed their touch and words. you felt your nipples perk against the cool air of satoru’s room as suguru threw your bra aside, and your pussy clenched around nothing when satoru aggressively yanked your jeans and panties down simultaneously down to your thighs. he chuckled lowly on your collarbone, licking his hot tongue from your clavicle your round, plump tit. suguru must have removed your shoes and the rest of your clothes while you were distracted with gojo, for you were now completely nude. “where’s that confidence from before now, mommy..? hmmm..?? mmph..” he moaned as plump pink lips caught your tit in his mouth. you let out a shaky exhale and threw your head back in pleasure as satoru sucked and swirled his tongue around your nipple, nibbling on the bud as suguru crawled over you on the bed, and you could feel the vibrations of the faint music downstairs shaking your bones as the pleasure of both of the men’s touches shook you to your core. you were so fucking wet, so wet you could hardly speak to retort to any of satoru gojo’s teases.

suguru placed his hand on your core, forcing you down flat against the navy blue silken sheets of the bed with your head propped up on the fluffy pillows behind you. you didn’t fight it, only let the immense pleasure occur: “good fucking girl, stay still for us now, okay?” suguru growled, his voice vibrating against your bare wet pussy when he lowered his head to it, and you could feel his long black tresses brushing and tickling against your sensitive thighs.

you heard satoru blindly tap and drag the screen of his phone as he continued to suck and fondle your tits, and you squeezed your eyes tightly shut and bit back a scream of immense ecstasy as suguru’s warm tongue enveloped your swollen clit, the cool metal of his piercing sending shockwaves of pleasure so intense through you core it was painful. but you reveled in the sensation — hell, you welcomed it with open arms. the more the men fawned over you and caressed you, so conjointly determined to deliver you the utmost pleasure and worship, the more your own confidence and awareness returned back to you, so much so you were willing to speak and engage with them.

“fuuuuck, don’t stop!” you whisper-shouted as suguru lapped you up like he hadn’t eaten in days, like he was starved, like your pussy was drenched in some sort of divine, heavenly nectar that he simply could not get enough of. satoru was the same, though he shivered and whined in desire as his hands explored your body, as if overjoyed to finally have you in his clutches. the more you paid attention to both of the men’s individual behaviors, the more you became aware of how to play this game. to play with them. remember that superiority complex i mentioned earlier? yeah. it was all coming back now.

“nobody down there can he…- hear you, baby,” suguru panted, his lips smacking wetly as he lifted his chin to speak against your bare pussy. his chin and the area around his mouth glistened with sweat and slick. “let it out, you fuckin.. you fuckin, ngh, slut. let those fuckers all he.. hear you scream, let daddy hear his pretty girl, ngh, scream in pleasure…”

and you did when those damn vibrations met with your clit once more, your thighs clenching and unclenching around suguru’s head as you struggling to keep up with his licks and swirls. he inserted two of his thick fingers into your pussy, allowing you no time to stretch out as he pumped your juices in and out of you mercilessly. satoru had moved to your neck, tasting the sweet saltiness of your skin, coated in a thin layer of sweat, as he sucked and bit down to leave marks all over your body. he wanted to ensure everyone in his frat knew who you belonged to — he and suguru geto, no one else. you didn’t even know it, but fuck, you were a catch. many of the other boys in gojo’s fraternity had noticed you, you had the perfect fucking curves and body, after all, and you were incredibly beautiful, like some sort of supermodel, so of course his frat brothers lusted over you. you and your best friend (her name was f/n, or something..? gojo thought) went out a lot, to study, eat, party, and you caught the attention of more men than you ever would have thought you did yourself. and it made satoru gojo unspeakably envious.

you were his. you were his from the moment you took each others virginity at that halloween party your junior and his senior year, you were his the moment you committed to going to the same university as him, and the only man he was willing to share you with was the man eating your pathetic little pussy out as we speak. he would make sure the marks on your neck reflected that, that your beaten, weakened little pussy reflected that.

he squeezed your perfect plump tits in desire as he left yet another hickey on your smooth, doll-like skin, relishing in the melody of your cries of pleasure and need. you were all he ever wanted since he was just a teenager, and here you were now, his to consume and have. fuck, he wanted you to dominate him, wanted you to leave him a blubbering, sloppy mess beneath you as you rode him and pumped his cock dry with no mercy.

“fuck, you’re amazing,” gojo praised in a whimper as you wailed in the shock of pain and pleasure of him biting so harshly on your neck he could draw blood. satoru could be rough when he wanted to be when having sex, but not like suguru. suguru geto was the definition of a dom, and fuck, he was sadistic. he loved to see women quivering beneath him in pain as he edged them closer and closer to their release, just to never give it to them until the very, very end.

satoru gojo was the opposite. to hide the embarrassment of it all, when he was with women sexually, he put on a front that he was like geto, dominant, confident, and masculine. but he truly wasn’t into all that. he couldn’t tell you how many times he touched himself, pumping his wet, soaked length with his own right hand pretending it was your pussy, pretending you were digging your long black nails into his skin, leaving scratches and scars all over his body, smacking his face, wrapping your delicate, dainty hands around his neck, squeezing so hard he’d pass out as he came inside you… he was undeniably a masochist, and he wanted nothing more than to be used and beaten by you.

it all felt so incredible. you felt so dirty and sinful, but fuck you couldn’t get enough — neither could satoru or suguru. satoru gojo was so weak for you. you were the only woman he could ever submit to.

“f-fuck..! i-i’m gonna…!” you gasped, your chest rising and falling rapidly as both of the men touched you. it was otherworldly, this feeling. it had been so long since you had been with a man, and you had never been with two at once. you were already reaching your release and it had hardly been five minutes. suguru tutted in displeasure and satoru, sensing this, paused the remote control, stopping the vibrations of suguru’s tongue piercing. suguru geto himself, additionally, had stopped pleasuring you just as your eyes were lolling back to your head and you were reaching your high. satoru removed his lips from your nipple with a plop, sliding his hand down your waist before his touch was gone completely. you whined as the feeling of both of them close to you was ripped away.

your pleasure being stolen from you was like a slap in the face, and you groaned, covering your eyes for a moment as you panted trying to recollect yourself. “ngh!.. wh.. what the.. what the hell?!” you cried.

“get on top.. of satoru,” suguru commanded, out of breath as he licked your lips, relishing in the taste of your sweet juices. “let’s see how good you ride, baby girl.” you gasped at him, trying to comprehend what he was saying, and your eyes slowly made their way over to satoru, who was laying down on the opposite side of the mattress, his elbows propping his body up as his chest heaved in desire. his white hair fell in messy clumps over his mesmerizing eyes, which were slightly dulled by the red lights enveloping the room. “now. be a good fucking slut for daddy, will you?” he smirked, finally beginning to catch his breath. his teeth caught his bottom lip in lust as he shamelessly soaked in every inch, crevice, and curve of your flawless body. he acknowledged your surprise and bewilderment in his next words: “i wanna see my pretty little slut ride my best friend and leave him a moaning, crying mess. is that a fucking crime?” then, geto climbed on top of your body laying flat against the bed and roughly manhandled you, his left hand reaching to grip your hair harshly and his right hand squishing your cheeks together as you stared up at him with wide eyes. you tried to stammer out a word, but he cut you off: “hm? what’s the matter, y/n…? you were so confident earlier when you jabbed your finger into satoru’s chest and cursed at him. you think your so fucking tough…?” he grunted and in a second, he grabbed you by your shoulders so roughly you’re certain he would leave bruises and flipped you around so that your ass was in the air. you whined in shock as raised his hand to smack your ass with all his strength. you screamed into the pillow, gripping the sheets as tears leaked from your eyes, and you’re sure your makeup was now ruined from your tears and sweat. you cried as your ass burned and stung from the impact, and your body convulsed as electric shocks of pain went up your spine. but, contrarily, your stomach swam with a hoard of butterflies, your heart beating rapidly and your face flushed in desire and pleasure. you loved it. you loved being treated like this, especially by a man as delectably handsome and gorgeous as suguru geto, just as much as you would love to ride satoru gojo until he came so hard inside you his seed leaked all over your thighs. you’d love to see satoru submit under you, you’d love to see him suffer for how much he has consumed your thoughts these past few years… but for some reason, you couldn’t speak, to enticed by the sensations suguru was giving you to move on to the next step. you were speechless.

“what happened to that dirty slutty little mouth of yours you had earlier, hm?” suguru taunted, pressing his cock in the crevice of your ass as he gripped your hips so hard it made you flinch roughly in pain from how intense his grip was. “not so vocal now, are we? c’mon, baby… i wanna see satoru squirm in pleasure as you milk every drop from his throbbing fucking cock. i wanna see that tight little pussy squeeze him so fucking tight he forgets how to think and breath, i wanna see you fuck him so good he forgets his own fucking name… you think you can do that for daddy, hm, baby? you think you can be a good girl and make satoru cum for me?” you let out a muffled scream of agony into the pillow as suguru raised his hand and smacked your ass hard again, and finally you managed to speak.

“y-yes!” you cried and moaned all at once, trying to get up. “yes..!” you repeated in desire, managing to get your head up off the pillow as you swallowed the saliva pooling in your mouth, black, mascara-filled tears streaming down your cheeks and staining them. you felt satoru’s watchful eyes on you the entire time, his hand stroking his wet length, pleasuring himself at the sight of your sweaty, shining naked body, your tears and your cries of pain and pleasure.

but suguru wasn’t having it. he growled and grabbed the back of your neck, harshly forcing you back into the pillow, squishing your face against the surface of the bed. he dug his fingers even harder into your asscheek, if humanely possible, using all his strength to potentially leave bruises on your smooth skin. “yes what?”

“yes, suguru!!” you tried.

“wrong,” suguru scowled, smacking your ass another time and making you yelp in agony. “say it again, and say it right. beg for it. beg for me to let you ride satoru. c’mon, baby, you can fucking do it.”

that’s right, you remembered amongst your sniffles and cries of pain, quivering and sobbing into the pillow. suguru had a daddy kink, didn’t he? he seemed to also like hurting you, obviously. that’s what he probably wanted then, for you to call him daddy instead of his real name. oh well, you suppose you didn’t mind, although it was a little degrading and humiliating.

“p-please daddy!!” you screamed, your face flaming red in embarrassment as geto roughly fondled your asscheeks, awaiting his desired response. “i’ll do anything! let me fu.. hnnngh,” you paused and moaned as suguru pressed his cock against you again teasingly. you could almost feel him smirking behind you from being able to make you falter. you started again, now determined: “let.. let me fuck him!! please, please, please, daddy, please, please…” you begged in whispers. this entire exchange was far more kinky than anything you had ever experienced in your entire sex life, so you could only pray you were doing it right.

to your glee, this response seemed to satisfy suguru as he removed his hands from your backside and gripped your shoulders, forcing you up and down onto his cock, though not inside just yet. his erection was so, so fucking close to your throbbing heat. fuck, he was rock hard… and just when you thought suguru geto had lapped up every ounce of slick your body could possible produce, your body made even more from sensation of his body heat and sweat intermingling with your own. his sharp canines bit down on the supple skin of your bare neck, pulling your hair to force access to your skin. you made unspeakably sinful sounds at the feeling of him utterly consuming you from the inside out, leaving his own marks beside satoru’s.

as he did this, you grinded against his hard cock pressing against your needy pussy, your tights clenching around his as you moved your hips almost gracefully backward and forward. with each nibble and harsh bite from geto, you whispered a string of curses and cries of pleasure as you locked eyes with satoru who was sprawled out slightly to your right. he had one knee up and his back was slightly arched, his mesmerizing blue eyes wide and cloudy with desire, his white lashes wet with tears as he stroked himself slowly, and then hard and quick, and then slowly all over again. he was edging himself to suguru manhandling you. it was unclear if it was you being beaten and hurt and pleasured all at once that got him off, or if it was suguru geto himself behind you burying his cock into the crevice of your asscheeks as he bit and sucked on the crook of your neck, covering you in hickeys. he was surely attracted to both, you determined, by the way he whimpered and whined into his hand gripping his cheeks on his face, both your name and suguru’s.

and you could feel suguru’s slim eyes staring at gojo as he pleasured you, growling and moaning like a predator consuming it’s prey, and then you quickly came to the revelation that this exchange was not just about you — you had felt it earlier, that mutual lust between them both, between suguru and satoru. not only were they pleasuring you, they were pleasuring themselves to thought of each other as well. and they had both probably fucked each other as best friends a few times as well.

and holy fuck, it made you so fucking wet. you could have came just from grinding against suguru right then and there, from simply soaking in satoru’s submissive cries of pleasure as he edged his poor beaten cock over and over and over again to you and suguru’s own attempts at drawing closer to your high. somehow, the room had just become a thousand times more hotter. then wasn’t just between you and suguru anymore, or you and satoru anymore — this was between suguru, you, and satoru, and the mere thought of that made your entire body quiver in lust as if you had been electrocuted.

finally gathering the confidence to act on your own, you flipped your own body around on suguru geto, rough moving your hips forward against his thick cock as you grabbed his face in his hands and slammed your lips against his. he moaned in surprise at your confidence, though he did not shun it. geto welcomed your lips, placing both of his hands against the small of your waist, and the moving them to play with your bruised ass cheeks. you opened your mouth to allow his tongue entrance, and suguru took that opportunity and ran with it, sighing in pleasure as he buried his tongue into the cavern of your hot wet mouth, exploring every inch of it. you could feel the cool metal of his piercing sending shockwaves of iciness through the nerves in mouth. at some point, you had both began to drool from the sloppy, drunken kiss, and your face and his were damp. you could hear satoru moan loudly as the slick, lewd sounds of him jerking off filled the room. he must be getting close again.

with a plop, you forced yourself off of geto to fulfill your promise of riding satoru, and geto smiled at you knowingly as you departed from him, his lustful, narrow eyes slimming even more as he grinned, and you returned the smile, your chest swelling with pride. you would show him. you would show geto just how fucking good you could be to his plaything, just how hard you could fuck his best friend and make him scream your name in desire.

you crawled off geto and moved towards satoru, gripping his bare thighs very suddenly and forcing them apart. gojo yelped in surprise, not expecting you to come onto him like this, but did not protest or stop you. his chest heaved up and down as he watched your every move, his eyes moving from yours, to your bouncing tits as you moved around, to the surface of your pussy, to your wet thighs, your plump lips, the marks forming on your neck and chest, everything. satoru gojo was captivated by every inch of your body, personality, and presence, and fuck, he was ready for you. he was so fucking ready.

“you wanna be a good boy for mommy and take your hand off your cock?” you mewled, and your own words escaping your lips so naturally shocked even you. satoru’s eyes widened and he let out a silent gasp, and you could sense suguru’s smirk growing evermore behind you. well, there was no going back now. might as well keep it up.

fuck, you had been waiting for this, waiting to prove to satoru just how sexy and confident you could be, prove to him that you were not to be fucked with. you had daydreamed time and time again about wiping that smug ass grin off his face, and now was your time to do that. suguru geto had motivated you enough, had built up your confidence and determination to act on your desires in the past few minutes for you to actually carry them out, and by the stars above you were gonna fucking do it.

“wh- wha?—“ satoru stammered, but you did not allow him to finish a full sentence. you decided to use this moment as an outlet to let out all of your built up anger and frustration towards the enigma that is satoru gojo in one night of pleasure and pain, and you did just that.

“shut the fuck up,” you stated strongly, smacking the living hell out of his face, and his head snapped towards the wall from the sheer force of the impact. his eyes were wide and glossy, and you could see him bite his lip hard enough to draw blood beneath the curtains of his white bangs. you grabbed his cheeks with your left hand and forced him to look at you through furrowed brows, and with your right hand, you pinned both of his hands above his head on the pillow, forcing them down. “you’re gonna be still for mommy, m’kay? that’s what you wanna fucking hear, don’t you, satoru? you wanna hear the sound of my voice degrading your worthless slut-ass for everything that you fucking are as i ride you into oblivion. that’s what you fuckin want, right, honey?” you cooed, although your words were nothing but sweet.

but they were to satoru. there were stars in his eyes as he looked up at you with those glossy, pretty blue eyes, batting his perfect, long and thick lashes, star struck by the sudden switch in personality you had endured. his cock was so hard that it sprung up to brush against your ass from behind as you straddled him tightly between your knees.

“there you fucking go, princess,” groaned suguru, now stroking his cock as you dominated satoru and hurt him with no mercy. “that’s how you fucking do it. good fucking girl… fuck yessss…” he threw his head back, pumping his wet length and running a hand through his damp, long black hair.

suguru’s praise motivated you to take it even further, and, without any warning, you lifted your hips and put all your weight on satoru, filling his length expand your tight inner walls and hit the surface of your cervix.

“fuck!” gojo cried in shock, and, on instinct, his hands slipped from your grip holding his hands down above his head and move to the flesh of your hips. you slowly began to move on his cock, pulling and teasing his release with each wet, sloppy, drunken, deliberate movement, and he moaned, overstimulated from his previous multiple edging sessions “ughhhhhhhnn.. don’t… stoppp… fuckkk..!”

gojo threw his head pack, his hair sprawled in messily on his forehead and on the silk pillowcase beneath him his eyes squeezed tightly shut as he gripped your hips and thrusted into your warm pussy. he pumped into you over and over and over again with no intention of stopping. now that he had you in his grip, gojo would never let you go — you were his for life now. he wouldn’t just let this be a drunken one night stand, no… “fuck..! ngh!!” he exclaimed in shocking pleasure as the tight walls of your hot, wet womanhood pulled and tugged and squeezed from the base to the tip of his beaten cock, and both of your juices leaked from your hole and onto the bedsheets and on your skin. at this rate, he was gonna get you fucking pregnant… fuck… the idea of you as a mother, with a swollen belly, making dinner for him on a sunday morning as he pressed into you from behind, a cup of hot coffee in his hand, suguru watching tv and drinking his own morning coffee in the living room… the perfect image of his future flashed in his mind in a millisecond just in that moment, and suddenly he didn’t want to pull out. you were all old enough to have a child, you, suguru, and satoru, all at the perfect age to raise one… raising a child, or maybe even two, maybe three, maybe four, with you and suguru sounded like heaven to him… so why not? after all, he couldn’t help it if he came inside that perfect little pussy of yours… it was all too tempting… it all felt too fucking good…

“ah ah ah..! don’t fucking stop mommy- ngh!!” satoru whined as you grabbed his hair, nails digging into his scalp as you fucked him silly, the sounds of slopping and pumping and lewd wetness painting the walls of satoru’s room. he didn’t know how much longer he could contain himself before he came inside-

“fuck it all to hell,” suguru growled, letting go of his cock and moving over to you and satoru, and, all of a sudden, suguru geto’s cock was pressed against the entrance of your asshole as he pushed your back down, forcing your tits against satoru’s face, which he welcomed in surprise, giving him access to your other needy hole. you knew suguru’s intentions the moment he pushed you down, to double penetrate you. you breathed in anticipation as suguru tapped the phone beside you all on the bed, turning his cock’s vibrating piercing on full blast. you gulped. you had done anal only once before in your life, so you were somewhat prepared, but it was still incredibly painful when suguru lubricated your asshole with his saliva and pushed himself in with no warning.

“a-ahh!” you cried in agony, the burning sensation of suguru’s cock in your ass making you see stars for a second from how badly it hurt. you paused for a moment, gasping for air as satoru became aware of the situation, his own thrusts dropping in pace for moment. “fuck fuck fuck!” you cursed in a whisper, lowering your head and squeezing your eyes tightly shut.

it hurt less than the first time you had done anal, which was good, you suppose, but it still fucking hurt like hell. it took a solid sixty seconds and a half before you instructed suguru to start moving.

and then both satoru gojo and suguru geto were pumping their hard, wet cocks inside both of your holes, both pairs of hands fondling and gripping every square inch of your body — neither of them could get enough of you, or of each other’s moans and cries and grunts of pleasure. and you were here for all of it.

soon the pain of you asshole being stretched had dissipated, and you could fully indulge in the pleasure of them both fucking you simultaneously. gojo played with your clit as they both pumped in and out, up and down, and you hardly had to move as both of the men did all the work. you felt like a spoiled princess, you felt like you were in heaven, and you had almost convinced yourself this was all a dream. but it wasn’t. this was all real.

“ah, ah…” suguru moaned in your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin, already so close to his release from the grip of your tight ass around his thick cock. “tell satoru what a good fucking boy he’s being for us, hm? tell him, y/n, nghhh-“ suguru could hardly contain himself as his eyes rolled to the back of his head, his hair sticking in clumps to his neck and shoulders as the muscles of his forearms, biceps, and triceps all clenched as he gripped and smacked and fondled your ass. the vibrations of his cock piercing stimulated the g-spot in your ass so fucking good. you don’t know how much longer you could contain yourself.

suguru didn’t have to tell you twice. you weakly and sloppily kissed satoru, already only a few centimeters from his lips, drool dribbling down his lips as he whined. you raised a hand to gently wipe the tears falling down his cheeks, so indescribably pleasured by both you and suguru it had brought him to tears. you broke the kiss, biting roughly down on his bottom lip before you pulled away, struggling to catch your breath before you spoke.

“y-youre bein such a good boy- ngh-“ you were unable to speak for a moment, and satoru was so entranced by the perfection of your bouncing tits, the juicy wetness of your plump lips, the sensation of your tight pussy pumping him dry, the feeling of his best friend suguru gripping onto his hip with one hand and yours with the other for support as he fucked you from behind, to even care. finally, you were able to continue: “ah, ah..! fuck, satoru, you’re such a good bo- boy for mommy. d-don’t stop. keep making me feel good. you… ngh… you can do that for mommy, hm?”

satoru only nodded, unable to form the words. it wasn’t very long before his cock began to twitch inside of you uncontrollably from his overstimulation. “f-fuck..! suguru.. ngh..!” he whined loudly, so loudly you worried for just a moment the party downstairs could hear you all, but you also found yourself not giving a fuck as you proceeded to bounce on satoru when he couldn’t thrust into you himself anymore. he had also stopped fondling your clit and tits, but you didn’t need him to anymore — him and suguru fucking you at the same time was enough for the knot in your stomach begin to unfurl. satoru whimpered like the pathetic little slut he was, and moaned: “fuck, y/n, you’re so fucking perfect, i-i’m gonna-“

“-m-me too.. ngh!!” you cried the sight of satoru gojo beneath you, his hair a mess against the silk pillowcase, his bangs sticking in clumps against his forehead, his long lashes wet with his tears, his lips wet and swollen from your kisses and bites… fuck, your pussy clenched as you came harder than you ever had before, your inner walls of your pussy and ass simultaneously pulsating and clenching with your release, and for that moment, it felt like your body had ascended into another plane of existence.

“fuck!!” suguru cursed as his pumps in your ass became more sloppy and weak, and you felt the warmth of his seed pouring into you and leaking out… fuck, there was so much… then, finally, satoru came, whining and crying your and geto’s names (and even a few “mommy” and “daddy”s) in unintelligible whispers as his blue irises rolled to the back of his head, so overstimulated from it all that his body violently jerked as he came inside you. both satoru and suguru’s seed leaked from your beaten holes, and the sensation of them both pumping their seed inside you made your high last even longer.

when you all came down, you crawled into bed naked with satoru and almost fell asleep immediately. suguru took it upon himself to throw on some clothes to tell everyone (aside from his frat brothers that lived with him) to get the fuck out, that the party was over — you made note to thank him later. you knew you would all be so fucking hungover in the morning, but you didn’t care. satoru enveloped you in his warm embrace and you fell quickly asleep, suguru ensuring to turn out the lights before he left to call the party off. and about fifteen minutes later, suguru returned, and you could feel hear him lock the door behind him in the darkness of satoru’s room, undress himself again, and crawled into bed on the other side of you, pressing your body against his and falling fast asleep. you went to bed with a smile.

maybe polyamory didn’t sound so bad.

the end.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

holy fuck that took me like three hours to write lmfao. (Ő︵Ő)

anyway, i hope you all enjoyed <3 if you did, please interact! i will also take requests if anyone has any ideas for me!! i’m hoping posting oneshots on tumblr will motivate me to start writing fics on ao3 again lol.

until next time my lovelies!! stay hydrated you horny bitchesssss. ヾ(*▼・▼)ﾉ⌒☆

[itsmarsss]

To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before AU: Chapter 1 - Out [Eli “Hawk” Moskowitz x fem!Reader] (Cobra Kai)

You have been writing these love letters since seventh grade, but what happens when they somehow get sent out?

Warnings: high school (lol i wrote this one when i was in high school but im rewriting it now that im like three years out of it so it feels weird and i feel like it warrants a warning, definitely senior year tho.), hardcore crushing on miguel, mentions of a crush on moon so if ya don’t like women too then idk, uhh mention of smoking weed.

Word Count: 4,060

Your letters were your most prized possessions: yours, and yours only.

You wrote one when you had a crush so intense you felt like you needed to snap out of it or otherwise you’d collapse.

So, you wrote letters to try to find closure. Intricately detailed letters that contained every single unfiltered thought and embarrassing feeling you could find in yourself. Everything you noticed about them, everything you wished you had with them, everything you wanted to say but couldn’t.

It started a long while ago.

You never sent them, of course. That idea was completely off the table. They remained stored inside the little blue box with the white ribbon buried deep in the back of your closet, from where you would occasionally take them just to read them again and reminisce on the thoughts a younger version of you once had about all those different people.

They were all properly sealed, stamped and addressed in pretty cursive letters, but never, ever posted.

They were six in total, addressed to five different people.

The first one ever written had been for Eli, from seventh grade. Adorable little Eli, who was one of the biggest nerds you’d ever seen, always too shy to talk around others, but who would go on excitedly about a tv show or a comic book series he liked for hours around you after getting paired for a project got him to warm up to you.

Adorable little Eli, who trembled like crazy before kissing you in a dumb game of spin the bottle, right before running home crying because some girl thought it would be hilarious to comment on how she wouldn't have let him kiss her with "that mouth" if she were you. You, in turn, couldn't feel more different from that bullshit comment of hers after that messy seventh grade first kiss that lasted barely a couple seconds but fed your crush on him for months on end after.

That letter was followed by a new one, addressed also to him, but the new him this time around, many years later, in your sophomore year- to Hawk, not Eli. However that worked.

To Hawk, who had decided to “flip the script”, as he called it, by changing his entire aesthetic and his whole demeanor, showing up to school on a random day with a blue dyed mohawk and a brand new attitude. You liked it.

Confident Eli seemed happier even though he sometimes acted like a bit of an asshole and, as much as you didn’t want to admit it, he looked really, really hot. He was still Eli, but this Eli wasn’t afraid to flirt with you, which evoked brand new feelings in you.

Therefore, a new letter.

The second letter you ever wrote was addressed to Demetri, from eight grade, who you met around the same time as Eli.

Demetri, who would talk to you about superheroes and binary language and would be so excited about it that you didn’t care to tell him you couldn’t understand a word of what he said.

Demetri, who was so kind as to go to your house to help you with your part on the biology project you were partnered with him in because he knew it was stressing you out, who would offer to tutor you when you told him you were having a hard time with a subject he was good at at school, and who you got closer to when randomly put in many classes together.

The third letter you ever wrote was addressed to Robby Keene, who you became closer to after ditching the homecoming dance in your freshman year to hang out by yourself at the bleachers, despite Sam and Aisha’s protests, only to find out it apparently was Robby Keene’s favorite smoking spot.

Apparently high school dances could be pretty lame, no matter what all high school movies from the 80's had been telling you all your life. You had asked if you were interrupting something when you noticed his presence and he told you it depended on whether you'd be snitching on him or not, and suddenly freshman homecoming didn't suck all that much anymore, because you managed to make friends with the most unlikely acquaintance you could ever have.

Robby, who at fourteen years old got detention for threatening to beat up the kids who made you cry because they kept making fun of you during a presentation, which was about substance abuse, ironically.

The fourth one had been written to Moon, who you used to despise because she used to hang out with Yasmine- who, for the longest time, had loved to pick on you and your friends- especially Eli and Demetri.

But Moon, who turned out to be so sweet after she started doing and saying things for herself as opposed to whatever her friends wanted her to and started hanging out with your friend group.

Moon, who would excitedly invite you to sleep overs and braid your hair as you gossiped about people you barely knew from school, who would do your makeup for you and take you shopping and call you pet names platonically, making you blush furiously and putting you in the verge of short-circuiting by being so casually affectionate now that you’d become friends.

And, lastly, the most recent one had been written to Miguel Diaz, of course.

Miguel, who was your best friend in the whole entire world, ever since he moved to Reseda and you first befriended him at school.

Miguel, who was currently dating Sam, who you’d drifted apart from, but couldn’t for the life of you hold a grudge against.

Yeah, Miguel.

But before he became Sam’s boyfriend, he was your boyfriend. Well… boy-friend. A boy who was a friend. And things were good as they were.

But then things started changing.

Things started changing when Miguel asked Sam out and you realized you didn’t like that. When the first thing he did when he got home was to tell you all about it, and you felt a pit in your stomach as he went on about how well things had gone.

Until you couldn’t lie to yourself anymore and had to face the reality that the reason it all made you feel so awful was that you were jealous.

It was even worse to figure out why: as much as you could try to lie to yourself and pretend you were just jealous that she was spending time with your best friend, you knew you had to face it: it all came down to the simple fact that you were in love with him.

You didn’t know when it happened, or what was the turning point for that, but you were. Utterly and irredeemably.

And, in hindsight, it seemed obvious.

But then they started dating, and they didn’t want you to feel left out, so they would you and Aisha everywhere, which made things so much worse.

And then they broke up, and things got, somehow, even weirder. Now it was all you and Miguel again, and, even after all of that, you still had those stupid feelings for him. But you weren’t a complete bitch, or insensitive. You’d never make a move, you’d just have to live with it.

Which didn’t mean there was nothing you could do about it: you decided to try to put an end to it, your own way.

Hence, how letter number six came to be. Signed, addressed, stamped, sealed and stored in the blue box under all the others.

Maybe after this you’d be able to move on. Maybe after this things would go back to normal. How you craved for things to go back to how they used to be.

It seemed reasonable enough to just wait on your feelings to die out.

But a certain day came when then Eli- well, Eli, who was Hawk now, marched up to you in the middle of your gym class.

“Y/n?” He called your name, and you stopped running your laps, turning around to face him, eyebrows knit together in confusion. What was Hawk doing in your gym class?

You let him approach you. “What’s wrong?”

“Look, I appreciate it but it’s… not gonna happen. Like, you know we’re friends, and you know I'm still like… hung up on Moon, or whatever. Right? I know the power of the Hawk’s pretty irresistible,” he smirked, quickly going back to his stern expression, “but you should cut it out.”

You really had no idea what the hell he could be possibly talking about. “Dude… what?”

“C’mon you don’t have to play dumb, it’s cool that you think my scar makes me look cute or whatever but like. I uh. Don’t have any feelings for you now.” Wait, what did he say about the scar? He kept on. “And like it’s- it’s pretty cool that you liked me before and now too but this would just- this would be weird. You know that, right?”

You just weren't getting it.

And then you saw it: in his hand, signed, addressed and stamped, were two open envelopes with two different names written on them in your best cursive handwriting. Fuck.

“Hey- woah are you alright? You look like you're gonna pass out.”

You felt like you were going to pass out. You couldn’t even form a sentence in the midst of your shock.

And then, Miguel came into your line of sight. Because of course things had to get worse.

“There’s no fucking way,” you muttered, incredulous. He was walking up to you, a red envelope in hand.

The letters got out the letters got out the letters got out.

He looked confused. He obviously, and much understandably, wanted answers. Answers you’d much rather get hot by a bus than giving him.

This could not be your fucking life.

“No, no, no, no, no, oh, my god,” you looked around frantically as he got closer, trying to figure out what to do. Hawk surely thought you were crazy now.

And then Miguel made eye contact with you and he had that fucking look of pity on his face and you panicked. And so you did the first thing that came to your short-circuiting mind, which was possibly the dumbest thing you could have thought to do: apparently all you managed to think of was jumping Hawk, tackling him to the ground and kissing him in the middle of gym for Miguel to see.

How maturer and over him you were! Incredible!

The kiss was over as soon as it happened, and you pulled away as Hawk stared at you with two wide eyes and shock all over his face.

You could sympathize with the guy- getting this as a reaction to your rejection was probably really confusing.

More important things going on, though. You got a glance of Miguel stopping in his tracks at your little theatrics, making you realize it definitely didn’t do anything other than make things more awkward for you.

“Uh. Thanks. Sorry or… whatever. I’ll see you in bio!” You told Hawk, patting his chest before standing up and booking away from him, running past Miguel way too quickly for him to be able to approach you and ignoring his call of your name, and locking yourself in one of the stalls of the closest bathroom you were able to find, trying every single breathing exercise you’ve ever come across to calm yourself down.

This was it. Miguel hated you, surely.

No, worse: he pitied you. Because obviously he didn't feel the same and obviously receiving a love letter so embarrassingly honest from his closest friend was weird. Now your friendship was going to be weird, and it was all you fau-

“Y/n? Are you in there?”

No. No. No, no, no, no, no, no. This can't be happening, there was no way.

“Y/n? Are you okay?”

Goddamn Robby Keene.

“Oh my god,” you muttered to yourself. Maybe willing him away in your mind would alter reality so he wasn’t there in the bathroom with you.

If only it were that easy.

Resting your head in your hands as you tried to convince yourself this was some sort of nightmare, you heard a noise come from really close to you and opened your eyesto the pink envelope being slid under the stall to you.

“I thought you’d want it back. Seemed pretty personal.”

“Robby, holy shit, I’m so sorry. You do know I wrote this like years ago, right?” He had to have figured that out, didn’t he? You weren’t even close anymore.

“Yeah! Like freshman year right? When we smoked together while everyone was at the dance.” He didn't seem to be mocking you, didn't seem to be angry. Just pointing it out. You sighed and opened the stall door, deciding facing Robby wouldn't be as bad as facing Miguel. You walked out.

“Yeah it was- it was pretty cool. Better than whatever was going down in the dance.”

“Yeah, I taught you how to smoke that day!” He smiled. “Thinking back on it makes me think you shouldn’t have been hanging out with me back then, actually,” he points out.

You could only let out a small laugh. “I guess not.”

“Look, I don’t know why you decided to send this but uh. I feel like I should tell you that Sam and I are like. Together.”

They were? “Oh. Right! Duh. Obviously. I knew that.” You most definitely did not know that. “I don’t know how this got out, really. I never meant for you to actually see this.”

“Look, we can still be friends. You’re pretty cool. Even with… you know…” he motioned vaguely, “the whole Cobra Kai thing”

“Okay! Yeah, definitely.” He was only being polite, because that’s how he is. But this was much better than having him think you were trying to get with him. You let out a nervous laugh. “I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah.”

Jesus fuck.

[. . .]

You looked everywhere. Everywhere. The stupid fucking blue box just wasn't anywhere. You tried asking your mom about it, but her answer was short and simple: It probably went with the Goodwill box you’d made last week.

How, you couldn’t figure out, but it seemed to be the only slightly plausible possibility.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. That meant there were five people out there total, five people you still saw every single day, who you were friends with, who had received a fucking love letter with your name signed all pretty on it.

This was hell, it had to be.

You were sure of it when you heard a knock on your front door, accompanied by Miguel’s voice calling your name.

Shit, shit, shit, you were not ready to have this conversation. Why did he have to be your next door neighbor on top of everything? It had always been convenient to live so close to each other, but right now it seemed everything but.

So you did what any sane, responsible person would do: you got out by the kitchen window. Naturally.

Miguel would think you just weren't home.

Again, very mature and totally normal and over it of you.

You decided someone would probably be at the dojo and the last thing you wanted right now was to accidentally encounter someone else who had a letter by surprise. You figured it was too early for someone to be at the diner nearby, so there you went.

You ordered yourself a milkshake and tried to reason with yourself. You couldn't avoid Miguel forever. He’s obviously find a way to talk to you at some point. And then what would you do? Admit you were in love with him even though to him you were just best friends? Let him tell Sam you were in love with her (well, at-the-time) boyfriend? Get politely rejected by him and go around pretending being pitied by him for not being corresponded wasn’t pathetic? It all seemed to come down to terrible endings.

You were so lost in thought you didn't notice him sit beside you at the counter until he spoke up, ordering some fries.

Oh, shit.

Hawk.

“What are you doing here?” You asked him, annoyed.

“Went by your place. Miguel said you weren't there. Things felt preetty awkward I’ll be honest with you. But you weren't at the dojo either so I thought I’d find you here.”

“Okay. And why did you wanna find me, exactly?”

“Look I just wanna make it double clear that nothing’s gonna happen between us. Nada.”

“Eli Moskowitz I am not trying to date you.”

He seemed to cringe at his own given name, but didn’t complain out loud about it. “Then why would you write me a love letter?”

“It was in 7th grade!”

“No, you talk about me as Hawk though.”

“Last year! Right when you did… that,” you motioned vaguely to his mohawk.

“Okay I hear you but like. Your mouth is saying one thing… but then your mouth said… something… else. To my mouth. Directly.”

“What? Ew!”

“You jumped me!”

“I was panicking! And I’m like, actually sorry.”

“Then why’d you do it?”

You let out a sigh, defeated. “Miguel was walking over.”

“And?”

“And he also got one of those,” you motioned with your head at the letter in Hawk’s hand, “and I cannot deal with that right now.”

His expression shifted. “Wait, I’m not the only one who got a letter?”

“No.”

“Huh. You really think you’re special.”

“Are you not, like, surprised about Miguel?”

“Oh, no, it was pretty obvious. But damn you get a love letter and think you’re the man but then you find out she wrote to another guy too?”

“Oh there’s six of them, so don’t go feeling too special.”

“Six of them?”

You then realize you’d spoken too much. He doesn’t need to know all of this. “Nevermind.”

“Damn y/n, fuck yeah, you're a player! Who were they for?”

“No one! It’s none of your business.”

“Come on, I deserve to know! You did kinda jump me in front of a bunch of people.”

“It doesn’t matter!”

“I mean I wouldn't- I wouldn't want people to find out you think my scar looks hot. Or that when you look at me you think about ‘kissing the annoying smirk off my lips’- I mean who knows what guarantees you don’t have a tattoo of my face on your ass-”

That was embarrassing enough. “Okay shut up! Shut up. Fine, if you wanna know so bad. So two for you. Then uh. Demetri, in-”

“You had a crush on Demetri?”

You kept on. “Then Robby Keene, on freshman year.”

“What, do you have a thing for LaRusso’s boyfriends or…?”

“How did you know they were together? I didn’t know!”

He just shrugged, and you continued. “And then there was uh-” you glanced at him and back to your milkshake. “Moon, after she uh. Started dating you, and hanging out with us.”

He let out a snort. “Right.”

“Sorry. I uh- I know she broke up with you-”

“What, are you gonna make a move on her? Is this what you have a thing for, crushing on your friends’ partners?”

“No. And you asked me about it!”

He looked sorry. He didn’t say it. He sighed. “Fine. Is that everyone?”

“With Miguel, yeah, that’s everyone.”

“Okay. I was the only one to get two letters though.”

You rolled your eyes at the comment. Of course he’d make this be about feeding his ego. The two of you finished your food in an awkward silence before he spoke up again. “Did you walk here?”

“Yeah.”

“You want a ride?”

“You don’t have to.”

“It’s fine.”

“Okay.” After paying, you walked outside, getting on his motorbike. He surrendered his only helmet to you.

Holding onto his waist the whole time after all this was definitely weird but you didn’t let yourself think about it too much, instead thinking about a bigger issue: you really, really hoped Miguel wouldn’t be there when you got home. You got to the parking lot, getting off the bike, taking off the blue helmet and handing it back to him. “How do you even put this on with your hair?” You questioned.

He laughed. “I just like. Push it back.”

“But how does it not ruin it?”

He shrugged. “Power of the Hawk.” He smirked, full of himself.

“Oh, come on. I bet you walk around with a little bottle of hair gel so you can fix it when you take it off.”

“Magician never reveals his secrets-” he looked off at something behind you that caught his attention. You furrowed your eyebrows together in confusion, turning around to see what it was.

Miguel. He hadn't noticed your presence yet, but there was no way he wasn’t going to.

What do you do now? You felt paralyzed.

Hawk seemed to think of something before you could. He placed his helmet on the handle of the bike, very obviously making sure to make noise with it to attract attention, and leaned in, pulling you into a kiss. A… rather passionate one.

He pulled away, wordlessly leading you in the direction of your front door. You got the hint, walking to your place without turning around, and unlocking the door. He pushed you in and closed the door behind him with his foot, loudly. You stayed like that, with him leaning on the door and your bodies flushed together, in silence, trying to listen if Miguel was walking towards your door or not. After a couple seconds, you figured he was not, and you pulled away from him.

“Sorry,” he looked at the floor, sheepish. An usual sight for the new him. “First thing that came to mind.”

“Why is jumping each other the first thing that we think of when we panic?” You laughed.

Hawk laughed along, more at ease knowing you weren’t mad at him. “You did it first.”

You sat down on your couch, but he stayed standing. “Sorry to pull you into this. And thank you for helping out just now. Think I’ll just pity myself ‘till I sleep and then die of embarrassment tomorrow when I see him or something. You can go if you want.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll- yeah.” He started walking to the door, but stopped midway, turning around to face you again. “Hey what if-” he tried to find the words to explain his idea- “um- he probably thinks we’re dating right? Or at least hooking up, or something. I mean, after all the kissing… and stuff.”

“Shit. Yeah. I’ll clear things up, sorry-”

“No! What if- what if we let him?”

“What… do you mean?”

“What if we let him think we’re dating? And not just him. Everyone else too.”

“Why would we do that?”

“So he won’t think you're in love with him!”

“I’ll rephrase it then. Why would you do that?”

“I mean you know- you know I’m still really into Moon. Maybe we could make her… want what she can’t get?”

“You think that would work? On Moon?”

He just shrugged. “Maybe.”

“So you’re suggesting we fake-date.”

“I guess.”

“Have you never seen a movie with a fake dating trope? Doesn't end well.”

“What, you think you’ll catch feelings?” He opened his signature grin, and you sighed, annoyed.

“I’m just saying it’s probably gonna blow up on our face eventually.”

“Why? We can just pretend to date for like a couple weeks. And then we break up or whatever.”

“I’m not-” This could not be a good idea. Could it? “Look I’ll- I’ll think about it. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

[. . .]

Miguel, Miguel, Miguel. Miguel seemed to be what occupied your thoughts the most. No matter how absurd the amount of drama you were going through was, your thoughts always came back to him.

But the night after the letters got out… it wasn't like that. Eli Moskowitz- well, Hawk, hadn’t been in your head all that much ever since you got over the last crush you had on him a couple years ago. But now Miguel wasn't the only thing in your head anymore, weird of a way as everything else had come into your thoughts.

So you decided.

A/N: in all honesty im only rewriting this because im in a bit of a slum and i almost deleted this off of my ao3 bc of how terribly written the original chapters are lol so idk here’s something someone might like i guess. I won’t be in any rush to post the chapters of this whatsoever, scandalous is 100% my priority this is just for some piece of mind bc I know I’m better than the shitty writing in the original version of this lol

[honeyedmiller]

Law of Attraction — Chapter One: Rough Draft

series masterlist | next chapter

rating: 18+, minors dni.

warnings: Professor!Joel, reader is self conscious for a bit, reader is mentioned to be plus sized, no outbreak au, smut (fingering, thigh riding, f oral receiving, unprotected piv), pet names, age gap (joel is in his mid forties and reader is in late twenties), no use of y/n.

word count: 4.4k

chapter synopsis: you need help with a paper you’re writing for Professor Miller’s class, and he’s more than happy to oblige.

Professor Miller’s class was your favorite.

Criminal Law was your favorite subject, and Professor Miller made learning about it sound like the most interesting thing in the world (which to you, it truly was).

Although the class itself was a bit monotonous, you got to look at the most handsome Professor on the University of Austin’s campus. It was no secret that people only joined Professor Miller’s class just to ogle over him and his ruggedly handsome looks.

You, on the other hand, needed this class to graduate. Which means you needed to try. You were a good student; A’s and B’s as your final grades at the end of each semester, took good notes, studied hard, and asked for help when you needed it. However, you found it to be a bit difficult to do so for Professor Miller.

Even just being around him made you unintentionally blush. His eyes always tended to land on yours because you sat up front, and, well, tried to pay attention to the lesson. So, when you weren’t exactly confident in the rough draft of a paper you wrote for his class, you’d emailed him for help.

to: jmiller@uta.edu

Good evening Professor Miller,

I was just wondering if I could have you read through the rough draft of my paper. I seem to be struggling a bit with this particular section of the course, and would like some feedback to see what I need to change or can improve.

Thank you and kind regards.

You held your breath as you clicked ‘send’, and in less than five minutes, he replied to you. Your heart leaped into your throat when you saw his name on the screen, and you rolled your eyes at yourself for getting so worked up over a man that you’d never be able to have, regardless if you were well above a legal age.

from: jmiller@uta.edu

Of course. Meet me after class tomorrow and we can go over it in my office during my office hours.

Have a good night.

Professor M

You often thought of Professor Miller outside of class, and, sometimes, you’d let your mind wander to places it shouldn’t go. Places like what it’d feel like for him to run his hands over you, fingers in you, him moaning because of you.

Your thoughts always quickly dissipated though when reality sunk in. Surely he’d want someone his own age, not a student of his, and someone who was… well, thinner. You were a bigger girl and you’d struggled with your image a lot, especially because trauma from your childhood from being made fun of constantly haunted you into your adulthood.

It wasn’t easy not caring what people thought of you, especially since you weren’t society’s “standard” beauty. You were curvy, yes, but you didn’t have a flat tummy like other women. You’ve been on a journey of self love and healing for a long time, and you've come a long way. You've had a newfound confidence spring within you, but you just couldn't help the thought loom in the back of your mind as you fantasized about your unfairly gorgeous professor.

So, as it was, you went to bed that night fucking yourself with your fingers, wishing they were his instead as a ghost of his name was whispered from your lips.

-

It was unusually hot in Austin the next day, which resulted in you wearing a pencil skirt that came just above the knees, a button down shirt with the first couple of buttons undone, and strap back kitten heels. You had a presentation in your first class with a team to act as if you were profilers giving a profile on a high stakes case. So, naturally, you had to dress the part.

What you didn't take in account is the fact that several of your classmate's eyes landed on you as you walked into Professor Miller's class a few minutes before it started. Professor Miller's eyes snapped up and looked at you, taking in your professional attire. You felt your face get hot as you tried to subtly head to your desk in the front, but your heels clicking against the floor didn't help.

Joel cleared his throat as he typed something on his computer, turning on the projector so the screen could display today's lesson. Joel got up from his desk and trudged over to yours, knocking on it twice. Your head was already buried in the notes from the previous lessons, so his presence startled you.

"I remembered your email from yesterday. See me after class today if you can." He pauses, taking a moment to look over your features, pretty face was perfectly on display for him. Your eyebrows were furrowed and your doe eyes scanned his face, lips in a soft pout, and your chest was rising and falling faster than usual. The way he looked at you made you squeeze your legs together, and Joel noticed.

"For my paper." You stated matter-of-factly, rather than questioning it. He nodded, and you mirrored his actions once before he stalked back to his desk. He greeted the class shortly after, beginning the lesson almost immediately.

Class lasted the two hours as usual, and as everyone gathered their stuff, you stay put. You’d crossed your leg over one another because the heavy feeling of arousal just wasn’t going away.

Professor Miller looked particularly good today, with his hair done up and a tight cotton green button down hugging the muscles in his arms. You always admired his husky build, and this shirt he wore with the fitted denim jeans he had on accentuated it perfectly.

“So what exactly are you struggling with?” Professor Miller cuts to the chase, prompting you to come up to his desk. You clear your throat as you pull the rough draft from your folder, sliding out of your desk. You walk over to him, heels still clicking onto the floor with purpose. You hand him the paper and he takes it from you gently.

“I’m having trouble with the case study here,” You lean over his desk slightly, a perfectly manicured finger of yours pointing at the third paragraph on the first page. “I don’t know if I should apply or dispute it.” You chew on your bottom lip nervously, not realizing how incredibly sexy you look to your dear professor right now.

One of your hands was hooked to the edge of his desk, gripping on it to balance yourself as you leaned over giving him a slight peep of the very top of the soft flesh of your breasts. You biting your lip like that didn’t make things any better. Joel felt his cock twitch in his jeans, and he wanted to groan.

Joel’s admired your curviness since the first day you walked into his classroom. He always found plus size women attractive, so naturally, he felt more drawn to you. He knew you were a consenting adult and a grown woman at that, so he truthfully didn’t feel too guilty for unashamedly checking you out. You just never noticed.

Joel’s eyes snapped back to your paper, reading over the section you pointed at. “You should apply the argument,” Joel said, writing next to the printed words with red ink. “Everything looks good, though. Just apply the argument and assess the similarities between the two cases and you’re golden.” He hands you back the paper after writing his feedback.

“Great. Thank you for your help, Professor.”

“Call me Joel.”

You look at him a little confused. “Sir?” The word just slipped out of your mouth, and you didn’t realize what you’d just said until after the fact. Joel exhaled shakily out of his nose.

To change the subject, he took in your attire again. “What’ya doin’ dressed up all fancy like that?” He asks, leaning back in his chair. He was trying to distract his own mind from wandering places that it shouldn’t with you.

“Oh,” You laugh, and fuck if that wasn’t one of Joel’s new favorite sounds. “I have Professor Sanchez’s class before this. We had a group presentation today,” You turn away from him to put the paper back in your folder, so your back was facing him. You heard Joel get up from his chair, but his footsteps didn’t go far. It sounded like he was leaning up against his desk. “We basically had to give out a profile for a mock high stakes case.”

Joel hummed, and you whirred around to face him. His body looked elongated the way he leaned so cooly up against his mahogany desk, legs extended but crossed as his boots touched the ground, and his arms were crossed over his chest. He looked like a tall glass of water and you’d be damned if you didn’t get a sip.

“Professor Sanchez’s class sounds fun.” Joel quips, tilting his head.

“Yours is better.”

“Oh really? Why’s that?” He uncrosses his arms and pushes himself off of his desk, analyzing your body language again. He can tell by the way your legs are pressed together and the rising of your chest that you’re nervous, which makes him nearly smirk.

“More fun to learn about.” You shrug, trying to play it cool. You were certain he could see right through you, though, but neither of you were doing anything about it. You couldn’t help but have a hunch that Professor Miller might just want you the same way you want him. Maybe.

He huffs a chuckle and looks down at the linoleum tile on the floor, biting his tongue. You know he wants to say something, but he’s hesitant. So, you took the initiative and took a step closer to him, taking in his broad frame.

“Look, darlin’,” He starts, and your stomach flutters at the nickname. “I know you’re a grown woman and all, but you’re still my student.”

You tilt your head to the side in wonder, a ghost of a smirk on your lips. “What ever are you talking about, sir?” You’re playing with fire now as you take a step forward, just inches away from the man you’ve wanted to ruin you for so long.

“You know exactly–” He paused as you dragged your index finger down the side of his neck, to his exposed collarbone. “What I’m talkin’ about.”

“As far as I’m concerned, sir, we’re both consenting adults.” You drop your hand and shrug, your eyes feening innocence.

He sighs defeatedly, shaking his head.

“You’re not wrong about that. You don’t know how hard it’s been trying to keep my eyes to myself every time you walk into my classroom. And then you come in here looking like this?” Joel gestures to your whole body, and your heart is hammering in your chest.

“Never thought you’d look at me that way, Professor.” You confess.

“You kiddin’ me? You’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen in my life,” He scoffs as if he can’t believe you don’t see yourself in the same light that he does. He thinks for a moment before opening his mouth, then clamping it shut. It seems that he made a final decision when he sighs and closes his eyes, opening them to look directly into yours. His brown eyes were so mesmerizing, you almost didn’t hear him say his next words. “If you really want this, want me, follow me into my office.” He whispers, and you nod with subtle eagerness.

Holy fuck. You couldn’t believe this was happening. You trailed not too far behind him with your book bag slung over your shoulder, heels clicking against the floor in anticipation as you tried to keep up with his wide strides. You walked through a door in the classroom that led to a hallway with another door at the end. Joel unlocked the door and opened it for you, letting you in first. He trailed in hot on your heels and shut the door. He locked it and swiftly grabbed the softness of your hips, pushing you up against the door. You gasp softly, hands landing on his broad chest.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so beautiful.” Was all he said before he crashed his lips with yours, gripping one of your thighs and bringing it up to wrap around his waist. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thigh as your skirt rode to your hips, leaving you to feel just how hard Joel’s cock was getting.

You moaned into his mouth and tangled your fingers into his slightly graying hair, tugging the slightest bit. He pushed you even further into the door, grinding his hips into yours. You left out a soft whimper into his mouth, but he swallowed it right up when he swept his tongue over your bottom lip. You didn’t hesitate to let his tongue explore your mouth.

You both were clearly so ravenous for each other, and the clashing of tongues and teeth proved that. You gripped at each other like you’d both disappear and this would’ve been a sad, unfulfilling dream.

Joel pulled apart from your lips as he trailed his warm lips down your throat and to your collar bone, his hot tongue poking out to soothe tiny bites he made along the way.

“Joel, please.” You beg, not really sure for what though. You want him everywhere on you all at once. You wanted to drink him in like he was the last fucking water source in the world. You wanted to feel his burly muscles rippling beneath your hands as you became full of him, stretching you out so heavenly that you couldn’t even comprehend what was going on around you.

He moaned at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue, and he pulled apart from you. He dragged you over to his desk, where he sat down in his large office chair and pulled you down to straddle one thigh of his.

“Go on, baby, use me.” He breathed, brushing the curve of your cheekbone softly. You leaned forward to kiss him again, finally registering what he meant. You settled your clothed core over his jean-clad thigh, grinding yourself onto him slowly at first. The friction was heavenly and you knew you were already close.

So many days and nights of fantasizing about this and how it’d go down, only for it to come true in the end, was truly otherworldly. His large hands moved down to unbutton a couple of more buttons on your shirt before moving down the curves of your body to rest on your ass, giving it a squeeze. You brought your hands onto his shoulders to steady yourself as you began to really ride his thigh.

You moaned softly and your eyebrows threaded together, the friction becoming nearly unbearable.

“Fuck.” You muttered, jaw going slack. Joel watched you in pure lust and amusement, waiting for you to soak a spot into his jeans. Seeing you like this, on top of him, riding his thigh, getting off because of him… made his head swirl with euphoria.

“That’s it, angel. C’mon. Give it to me, baby.” Joel encouraged, softly forcing his hands against your ass to get you to rut your hips a little faster.

“Fuck, fuck, Joel, I’m gonna– fuck!” You came hard on his thigh, and he nearly came in his pants at the sight. He felt the warm slick on his thigh, and he needed to get a taste of you.

“So good for me, sweet girl,” He murmured as he lifted you by your hips and set you down on his neat desk. Your skirt was already up to your hips, so Joel swiftly removed your soaked panties and stuffed them in his back pocket. “Let me just get a taste.” He said, looking down at you. Your cunt clenched around nothing at his words, silently begging him to devour you like you were his last meal.

He got down on his knees and pulled your ass closer to the edge of the desk by your thighs, hooking them around his shoulders as he came face-to-face with your glistening heat. “So fuckin’ pretty. This pussy’s mine.” Joel mewled, calloused fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs once more as his tongue circled your clit.

The drag of his muscle was slow, teasing. He took his time just to hear you beg for his mouth. He needed to hear it.

“Sir, please.” You softly whimper, and his eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head. His ran his tongue up and down your folds, swirling it a few times before it prodded your entrance. He delved his tongue inside of you, and you had to clamp your hand over your mouth in order to keep from screaming.

His tongue felt so warm and wet and heavenly in you and around your aching cunt, just begging to be devoured until you reach another orgasm. Joel is was moaning against you, and the vibrations shot straight up your core. It made your toes curl in your heels, and your hips buck up from the desk. He folded his hands on top of your stomach to keep you locked down, and you whined at the sensation.

You were panting heavily beneath your hand, trying to muffle the loud whines and moans that you emitted. Joel’s tongue kept working against you as he lapped up your slick, drinking you in like he was dehydrated in the desert. You tasted so good to him; like nectarine from the ripest peach.

He then solely focused his tongue on your clit, flicking over it rapidly before using his lips to lightly suck on it. Your nails from your free hand clawed at the desk, the feeling of overstimulation creeping in. You felt that low burning sensation in your core as your next orgasm began to build up. As if on cue, Joel swiftly detached his mouth from you as he gathered your slick on his middle finger, followed by his ring. He pushed his two fingers into your entrance slowly, relishing the tightness around his digits.

He latched his mouth back onto your clit, interchanging between licking and sucking. Your shaky thighs began to squeeze Joel’s head as your orgasm was about to peak.

Joel hummed against you as he curled his fingers , hitting that spongy spot inside of your cunt that had you rolling your eyes back as your body shook through your climax. You whimpered as he detached his mouth and removed his fingers, bringing them to his mouth to lick them clean. The whole bottom half of his face was covered in your arousal, and he looked down at you with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“So sweet f’me, baby. Could eat that perfect pussy all day.” He tossed you a shit-eating grin, and your thighs clamped shut as you tried to regain your breath. He leaned down to give you a kiss, and you tasted yourself on his tongue as he slipped it into your mouth. You could feel his painfully hard erection against your thigh, so you tried to muster up as much energy as you could to start taking off his belt.

Joel helped you by taking the rest of his belt off after you undid the buckle. He unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, pulling them down just below his ass. He tugged his boxers down too so he could free his erection. Your mouth watered at the sight of his erect cock, head weeping and leaking pre cum.

“L’me taste you.” You managed to say in your already fucked-out state, but Joel shook his head.

“Next time, baby,” Next time. You pouted at him and he chuckled, cradling your face. “Now if you need to tap out, give me two hard taps on my thigh, okay angel?” You swallowed and nodded at his directions, and once again, you clenched around nothing.

“I’m– I have an IUD.” You say, and Joel looks down at you.

“Good.” Was all he said before putting both of his hands by your head, leaning down to kiss you gently. Without removing his lips from yours, he took one hand and guided the head of his cock over your aching folds. You were buzzing with anticipation, because the need to have him in you was almost unbearable.

He slowly prodded your entrance, then pushed himself in. You nearly choke on a gasp as he fills you up. You felt every ridge and vein on his silky, girthy flesh and you closed your eyes in pure ecstasy at the feeling. His cock was heavy in you, the weight adding to the extra pleasure you were already experiencing.

Joel looked at your face, admiring how it was contorted in pleasure and slight pain before he leaned down again to bite the soft flesh of your breast as he adjusted to your tightness.

“Feel so fuckin’ good, baby.” Joel moaned, standing upright after littering a few more kisses on your chest.

“Please move, Joel.” Was all you said before he began to rock his hips steadily. His thrusts were slow at first, but you tried to grind your hips against his for more friction. A few times your clit met the coarse hair at the base of his cock, and that gave you the friction you needed to clench around him so deliciously.

“This pretty pussy is all mine, y’hear me? So fuckin’ wet and tight, darlin’. Have me fuckin’ losin’ my mind,” Joel picks up his pace, slamming into you at an impossible rate. “Say it.” He warns, taking your breasts out from the cup of your bra.

“It’s–fuck, it’s all yours sir. All yours.” You couldn’t believe how good he felt as he fucked you like this, feverishly and buried to the hilt every single time.

“Good girl.” You moaned at the praise, and he leaned down to capture a swollen bud into his mouth. His hot tongue swirled around your flesh, sucking it and ever so slightly nipping it with his teeth. You hissed at the feeling, but it only spurred your arousal on further.

You wrapped your legs around his waist as he fucked you, but he stood up and removed your legs from him and put them over his shoulders instead. The new angle made it easier for him to fuck you deeper. A dark glint passed in Joel’s eyes as you moaned loudly.

He gathered both of your wrists into one of his, pinning them above your head. The pace of his hips picked up, and all that was heard in the windowless room was the sound of skin on skin slapping together, your wonton moans, and Joel’s grunts. He moved his other hand over your throat, wrapping around it and giving the sides a squeeze as he fucked you senselessly. You felt that tight coil in the pit of your core once more, and you were writhing beneath Joel the best you could.

“Fuck, Joel, ‘m gonna cum again.”

“Go ‘head angel, cum f’me.” His deep Southern drawl is what sent you over the edge, crumbling down and shattering all at once as your orgasm ripped through you. You cried out, and Joel quickly removed his hand from your throat and kissed you urgently, but the pace of his hips didn’t let up. He released your wrists next and your hands found purchase in his hair, raking their way down his back as you desperately tried to grab a hold on him.

It resulted in your nails scratching down his back, which he hissed at but didn’t seem to mind overall. Joel was chasing his own release as your slick cunt gripped him so desperately.

“C’mon baby, give me one more.” He grunted, gripping your hips so tightly you were sure there were going to be bruises. As if on command, your body beckoned to his call and you found yourself orgasming for the fourth time that day. A gush of liquid expelled from your overstimulated cunt, and a strangled cry left your mouth.

Joel was teetering on the edge, teeth clenched and brow furrowed. “Where do you want me, angel?” His voice was strangulated and desperate, both of you gasping for air.

“In me, Joel, please.” You cry, gently gripping at his hair as his head dropped to your shoulder, warm spurts of cum shooting into you. He groaned into your ear, cursing under his breath as he filled you to the brim.

He collapsed onto you, cradling the side of your face as he kissed you passionately.

“So good f’me, sweet girl. Y’did so well.” He praises, kissing your lips once more before standing up slowly and pulling himself out of your sensitive cunt.

You hummed as you tried to relish in the feeling of being so fucked out by one of the hottest men you’ve ever come to know in your life. You couldn’t believe that just happened, and your mind was swirling with a million thoughts per minute.

Joel helped you up onto shaky legs, grinning to himself at how fucked out you looked. He was sure he looked the same way, but he couldn’t care less.

“You have any classes after this, baby?” Joel asks as he buttons up your shirt for you. You shake your head no, your voice not quite caught up to you just yet.

“‘M going home to sleep. Im exhausted.” You sigh, leaning against him. He chuckles and kisses the top of your head, smoothing out any stray hairs that were misplaced from your activities.

“Get some rest, baby. Here. Take my number and I’ll call you.” He rips a piece of paper from a notebook laying nearby, scribbling his number on it before tucking it into the breast pocket of your shirt. You beam up at him, hand trailing up his torso to rest on his chest. Your other hand found purchase on the back of his neck, softly tugging him down to kiss him once more.

“Mm. Will do, Professor.” You playfully wink at him, and he taps your ass playfully before you unlock the door to his office.

He half smiled as he watched you walk away, admiring your beautiful body from behind. He called out to you one last time, hoping you’d text him asap that night.

“Don’t forget to fix your rough draft!”

tag list:

@cool-iguana ; @wannab-urs ; @bastardmandennis ; @nostalxgic ; @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin ; @pamasaur ; @planet-marz1

[chiharuhashibira]

What about a shorts featuring your fave Kimetsu No Yaiba teacher?

But make it Professor X Student 👀

Hey guys~ As promised! I am here again in one of my... favourite masterpiece 🤭

Thank you for answering the poll we had before~

So this will be the plan for the NSFW Series, I will finish our Special Class: Chemistry with Obanai then proceed with one chapter of the Tsugoku X Hashira and one chapter of the Oiran X Hashira.

Hope it works with y'all. Love yah hoho

Honestly I am so happy that I writing for this series again 😍

Anyways, let's start. You are very quiet 22 yo graduating-student. Obanai is 29.

𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

𝑺𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍 𝑪𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔: 𝑪𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒚

𝐊𝐲𝐨𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐤𝐮 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐧 𝐔𝐳𝐮𝐢 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐆𝐢𝐲𝐮 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐤𝐚 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐎𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐢 𝐈𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫>

Content Warnings: ProfessorXStudent/Age Gap/Suggestive/Curse Words/Matured Content/18+/Sexually Explicit/Mentions of Death/Angst/Tragedy

Minors DNI.

🌸𝑶𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒊 𝑰𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒐🌸

(Images are not mine, credits to the rightful owner)

"Is that all you've got?"

Your chemistry professor, Obanai Iguro, spoke, his voice slicing through the air like a blade. Feeling the biting pain of his apathy more than any harsh criticism, you grimaced inside as you heard his remarks. His intense scrutiny pressed down on your already fragile self-assurance, forcing you to look downward.

"I... I'm trying my best, Iguro-sensei." You felt your insides tremble as you spoke with a low voice, which could barely be audible under the quiet hum of the fluorescent light inside his classroom.

You're usually the jolliest and most active student in all science classes, particularly chemistry, because you want to be a chemist. But then, everything changed four years ago when the woman you regarded as an older sister passed away because of her dedication to science and education.

You hated science. You barely make an effort at it right now because it triggers you so much. But, of course, you don't want your professor to know that. Especially because of the rumours about his "allergy to women" and so on. Of course, he wouldn't understand your pain.

With his visage frozen in place, Obanai studied you dispassionately, as if you were a specimen in an exhibit. He repeated, "Your best?" He spoke with an acidic undertone of doubt. "Well, Y/N-san..."

You gulped.

"Your best? It seems severely lacking," Obanai added, his comments cutting through your delicate self-esteem. "Perhaps you should reconsider your actions before I end up failing you this semester. Chemistry's not for the faint of heart."

After saying that, he looked away, shifting his focus elsewhere, leaving you to grapple with the aftermath of his heartless disregard. However, one could not help but detect a hint of warmth and longing concealed beneath the academic dispassion that adorned their facade of indifference.

"I heard another student cried at Shinazugawa-san's classes earlier."

"I know, right! Someone also cried at Tomioka-sensei's. What's wrong with these professors?"

"I don't know. There's another professor, though, who is a terror. That... that weird face mask guy."

"Oh, Iguro-sensei."

"Yes! I'm glad I'm not in his class."

"Yeah, me too. We're lucky that we're in Rengoku-sensei's classes all day. I wouldn't ever complain. He's a ray of sunshine!"

"Uzui-sensei too... He's handsome, too. We're so lucky!"

"DAMN YOU KIDS! YOU'RE SO NOISY! GO BACK TO YOUR CLASSES!"

You watched as Shinazugawa-sensei stepped out of his class to yell at those two talkative students. You gulped, feeling scared that he might yell at you too. But fortunately, he didn't. You can't bear having additional stress today, especially after hearing Obanai's words earlier.

But then, you clearly remembered your earlier encounter. Looking into his enigmatic eyes, you can't help but wonder about that sudden flicker of emotion that he showed you. It's hard to believe, but it seems like there is more than meets the eye when it comes to Obanai. And yes, you're kind of curious to know what that is.

You didn't know that Obanai was secretly watching you on the corner. He's used to hearing students complain about him, so it's surprising that you didn't escalate the situation after hearing them. Especially considering what he did earlier.

"Am I too harsh again, Kaburamaru?" He asked the harmless snake, who was just busy slithering on his shoulders. No answer came, of course, so then Obanai just went back to his lonely classroom.

In the days that passed, Obanai's harsh words still haven't left your mind. But yes, even if you wanted to do your best, his subject is just so hard to deal with, not because you find it hard, but because of the sad memories that it brings you.

As you sit and listen to him in his classes, you can't help but find yourself grappling with a tumult of emotions. So one afternoon, you were astounded to feel a presence beside you, only to discover it was the chemistry professor. You were startled to see his heterochromatic eyes fixate on you with an intensity that took your breath away.

"Y/N-san," he said, his voice more muted than you'd ever heard before, but with an understated strength in its tone. "May I have a word with you?"

Your heartbeats were quickening at the unexpected invitation. "Of course, Iguro-sensei," you replied, your voice tinged with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity.

Obanai led you to a secluded corner of the hallway, away from prying eyes and wandering ears of the other college students. As you both stood there, bathed in the soft glow of afternoon light, you couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in Obanai's demeanour—a concern that belied his usual stoic composure.

"I've been watching you, Y/N." Your chemistry professor began with his heterochromatic eyes, meeting yours with unwavering curiosity. "You seem to be more lost than when I first talked to you. Is there anything you need to tell me?"

"As far as I know, there's none, sensei."

Obanai raised one eyebrow at you and crossed his arms, only to reveal Kaburamaru, who was hiding beneath his oversized lab coat. You blink in confusion at what you are seeing right now. You have heard the students talk about Iguro bringing his pet snake to the university a lot of times. However, you regarded those as purely rumours.

But seeing the white snake right now, you can't help but be amazed. You also had a pet snake in the past, which you and your best friend used to take care of. "Oh, what's its name?"

"Kaburamaru."

"I see. It looks beautiful..."

"Oh? You're not afraid of him?"

"No. I'm not. He reminds me of the snake that I used to see on our garden before."

"Oh..."

"Yes, sensei. Hmmm, when I was just 5, I used to see a white snake in our garden. I even tried to touch it."

The oozing tension and unwelcoming aura that Obanai used to blanket himself with seemed to fade as his eyes widened with what you said. He looked amused right now, and that kind of calmed you down. 

"I see..."

It looks like he wanted to ask more, but then nothing came. So, you decided to get straight to the point.

"Iguro-sensei, I've got to go. I'm so sorry if I always disappoint you in class. I really do."

You said you felt guilty for letting your emotions always take hold of you. But before you could go, Iguro handed you something.

"A notebook?"

"Yeah. Try to study with those notes. Perhaps it could help."

You took the white notebook from his hand and gave him a small smile. "Thank you, sensei."

You swear that before Obanai turned around, you saw his cheek turn pink. That left you dazed, but then, it's none of your business.

Despite the amusement that you have felt for knowing Obanai has a soft spot, you can't help but not believe yourself for what happened. Why did he give you this notebook? Why is he observing you in the first place?

It kind of made you shiver, as you felt like one wrong move and bad things would happen with Obanai. Interpreting that moment as a sign of his concern for you, you chose to give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps...

After showering, you sat on your study table and looked at the innocuous photo in front of you. It was your best friend and non-blood-related older sister, Shinobu Kocho, who had passed away. How you've missed her and the time when she's just there for you. You loved the girl so much that you wanted to be like her.

You never would have thought that one day you'd end up hating something you love for taking someone away from you.

"Shinobu-san, I'm sorry for being a failure. I... I'll try my best to bring back my passion."

You whispered in the air, realising that, yes, if the woman is still here, she wouldn't want you to fail.

With that sudden flame igniting inside you, you opened the notebook Obanai had given you. Goosebumps formed on your body as you traced his handwriting. He has good handwriting, and you can't help but smile because of it.

It reminded you of Shinobu's wonderful handwriting, which you have always adored but also sort of didn't, as Obanai wrote in cursive.

And with that, as if by magic, time passed. You didn't realise that it was actually two in the morning when you finally stopped reviewing. Yes. It has been the first time again that you have let yourself get too absorbed in anything related to science for more than an hour.

It kind of felt overwhelming. Yes, it is overwhelming, as suddenly everything started to make sense again. All the things that you studied before came back. And perhaps it is due to the simplicity with which Obanai explained things in that notebook.

It seemed as though he had specifically designed it for that purpose. To make chemistry simple, which is too different from how he explains things in class.

For some reason, you felt a bit happy. Even if Obanai may appear nonchalant and harsh, he seems to really care. This simple gesture unlocked so many memories.

And even your promise to Shinobu before came back to you, pushing you harder to do better this time.

This is all because Obanai has made an effort to kind of talk to you at the uni this afternoon. And yes, he is cold but that gesture had gave warmth to your frozen heart.

A few days had passed, and one Saturday night, you found yourself sitting in a public library, reading the notes from Obanai's notebook. After the night of your realisation, you felt your passion for science spark again. And yes, it reflected on your grades.

However, Iguro still didn't speak to you after that day. No praise, not even a bat of an eye. You're just there again, invisible, despite doing your best.

Feeling a bit low, you decided to ditch the library and head towards the nearest coffee shop. All you wanted now was to chill and perhaps let your mind rest for a while.

But before you could reach the coffee shop, you accidentally bumped into someone. Without wasting time, you bowed down to apologise, and there, a familiar voice came into your senses.

Your eyes widened, and then, when you looked up, you met those familiar and enigmatic eyes. "S-sensei?" you asked, wondering why in the world would fate bring him to you tonight.

You were trying your best to forget him and his nonchalant attitude towards you, which is really weird after he gave you that notebook. Yes, you were expecting him to be a bit nicer, but he became colder.

"What are you doing here?"

He's still wearing his mask. I wish I could just see his face. You thought as you proceeded to take in his presence. Clad in a striped hoodie and black pants, Obanai could pass off as a university student. He looks young for a professor in the first place.

"Hey, I'm talking to you."

"Oh sensei. Sorry, I was—"

"Spacing out. I know. It's okay. I know it's surprising to see your professor around here."

You were astounded when he talked casually to you. He never did that at school. Oh well, that's because he's apparently your professor. You wanted to slap yourself for your foolish thoughts.

"What's up with you?" Obanai added, which made you blink in surprise. He wants to know what's up with me.

"Nothing much sensei... Just—"

"I'm going to cut you there." He said, and suddenly leaned in on you, which made you blush. His voice went out as a whisper as he told you,

"We're outside the university. It's Obanai, okay? I don't want the people around getting the wrong idea."

"Sorry sen— Obanai-san..."

He straightened up and crossed his arms, piercing you with his fierce eyes once again. "So you were saying?"

"Oh, I was just reviewing. Just heading to the coffee shop now to grab a coffee. How about you?" You said, trying to hide your nervousness from your casual tone. Obanai scratched his chin and shrugged his shoulders.

"Nothing much. Just another Saturday night in the pub, I guess."

WHAT? HE DRINKS? You couldn't hide the flabbergasted expression on your face as you heard those words coming from his mouth. You never thought of Iguro as some guy you'd see in pubs. So this information is shocking to you.

Obanai saw this expression and raised an eyebrow. "Is it weird to hear a grown ass man going to a pub? Why are you looking at me like that? Prick..."

"Sorry... I'm just... weird sometimes. Don't mind me."

"Okay. So, you heading towards the coffee shop? Want me to come with you? It's quite dangerous to walk alone in these streets at night."

This night is definitely getting weirder... in a nice way?

Obanai, asking to walk with you? The stern and cold-hearted chemistry professor, caring for you? You bit your lip and felt a bit flustered.

Yes, he's your professor, but he's also a guy. And it's the first time that a guy has ever offered you this. You know that it isn't too much. It's most likely lower than the bare minimum, but then a part of you started to flutter. You know it's wrong, and it's weird... but... For some reason, you just didn't care.

"Are you sure I'm not going to be a bother with you and your pub appointment?"

"No. I'm kind of thinking to drop the pub thing tonight, actually. Can I join your coffee appointment instead?"

"Why?"

"I don't know. I just want to? Is that an enough reason?"

"Yes, actually."

You found yourself sitting face-to-face with Obanai in your favourite coffee shop, wondering why he was here in the first place if he wouldn't order at all. Feeling a bit conscious, you fixed your braids and decided to take a sip of your coffee.

"Why didn't you order anything? If you want to go to the pub, it's okay."

"I just... don't eat much. And I hate coffee."

"Then why did you go with me here, sensei?"

"Obanai."

"There's no one around. And you're my sensei; we can't hide that fact."

"You're pissing me off."

"I'm not trying too, though. It's just..."

"Why did you stop? It's just what?"

Obanai's voice suddenly sounded a bit offended and sad. You gulped and looked down, stopping yourself from saying that this looks weird because somehow you wanted the company.

"Nothing"

"You can tell me directly if you don't want the company. I just came here to... to make sure you'll be alright. But I guess trying to be nice doesn't always pay off?"

You felt guilty as you watched Obanai stand up from his seat. So then, letting your intrusive thoughts win, you grabbed his hand and pulled him down. "Stay." You didn't care if his allergy to women would be triggered by this contact. All you wanted to do now was kind of comfort him.

Obanai looked at your hand and back to you with question marks almost becoming visible on his face. "Y/N..."

"Sorry..."

"It's okay. I'm used to it."

"I want the company. So stay, Obanai."

The facade of emptiness in Obanai's eyes was shattered after hearing your words. It seems like a memory has suddenly been unlocked inside of him. But then, no words came out of his lips. So you spoke up once again, trying to lighten up the mood.

"So... where are you going after this?" You asked innocently, which made the guy shrug his shoulders again. Obanai isn't speaking again.

You realised that he was looking at your hand, which was still holding him, so you pulled away and tried your best to hide your blush.

After you had let go of his hand, Obanai finally got the strength to speak up. "Walk you home."

"You're not pissed off with me anymore?"

"No."

"Okay."

"Okay."

And there... Again, you found yourself ending the night with Obanai walking you home in silence. Yes, it was awkward, but for some reason, it felt a bit warm. And you kind of felt happy.

Yes, he's your professor, but for this night, he made you feel like a normal girl. And yes, it is special, as you haven't felt that in a long while.

Actually... you have been feeling this for a while. Wanting his attention and care so bad and you didn't know when it started. It just sparked again after he lent you the notebook.

But you know you shouldn't feel this so, you forced yourself to stop. And you'll do it again this time.

On the other hand, Obanai found himself slithering back to the pub, letting his loneliness get a hold of him. Yes. He's lonely. And yes, he regretted what he just did. Just because you reminded him of something so important before doesn't mean that he should be as vulnerable as at that time.

You're his student. And yes, he reminded himself of that. You're just his student now. And it should stay that way.

Days have passed, and here we go again. As if that night never happened, Iguro didn't talk to you that way again. It kind of hurts because even if you wanted to hide your feelings so bad, you still wanted him to look at you and speak to you, the same way as that night.

But you have no choice. Even if you had the urge to bring up how confused you are, you didn't. You can't speak to him that way again. Like what you said that night, he is your professor and you cannot hide that fact.

So, you just did your best in his class, trying your best to focus on your promise with Shinobu, trying to fix all your mess.

Little did you know, but the chemistry professor has noticed how you've changed since the day he lent you those notes. You've turned the tables, as if suddenly you were his star student.

He had grown fond of seeing you answer his questions correctly. Especially when you started leading chemistry projects and stuff.

And beneath those observations, Obanai can't help but also adore how beautiful your confidence looks on you. Yes, he was dying to talk to you. But he can't bring himself to do so. He just can't say it but there's tonnes of things that he had been wanting to tell you.

"Iguro-sensei. Thank you for this notebook. I've finished studying them all, and it helped me a lot. I will return it to you now. Sorry if it took me too long to do so."

Obanai was astounded by your voice and presence. He looked up at you with an empty stare and simply nodded. After putting the notebook on the desk, you were about to go when, suddenly, Iguro spoke up in a soft tone.

"No worries. You actually started to do well."

With his words, your face lightened. Feeling your heartbeat race, you fought the urge to smile as you knew that things would not end with him praising you. You still need to pass the class. You need to make Shinobu proud, even if she's gone.

But then, cutting off those thoughts, Obanai stood up from his seat and walked in front of you. You were astounded by the sudden closeness, but of course, you didn't move.

The chemistry professor's heterochromatic eyes pierced within your soul, forcing you to look away. Heat crept up on your face, and you felt that the atmosphere had become a bit more intense.

A sudden, foolish thought had managed to escape from the cages of your mind.

Is Iguro-sensei going to kiss me?

Yes. Rising again from deep within your frustrations on his subject and the pain that it causes you is this feeling. And it is slowly burning you into ashes.

That's why it hurts more when he tells you you're not good enough. That's why you didn't get angry at him when he did so. That's why you hated those people who spoke badly of him.

That's why you wanted his attention again like that night when he made you feel like a normal girl.

Yes, Iguro can be so difficult, but he somehow brings this comfort to you. You have no idea why, but it's like you've known him forever, and you've been longing for his presence.

He feels familiar, but he also does not.

Obanai's hand felt warm on your cheek. The chemistry professor suddenly found the courage to caress your cheek, which made you blush. But then, his next words killed those flusters in just a blink of an eye, rubbing salt on your scars.

"You did well, Y/N-san. Keep it up, okay? You'll make Shinobu proud."

Those words. That name.

You almost found yourself shutting down. Now, all you can think of is: How did he know her? And if he has known her for a long time, why is he just telling you this now?

Turning to look at him with wide eyes, you've witnessed how Obanai took off his face mask. Yes, this is the first time you've seen him without that.

And yes, for the very first time, he looked so familiar that seeing his face now brought back your old memories from the foster home to haunt you.

Flashback:

"Shinobu-san, who's that boy with Mitsuri-san? Is he new here?" 

"Oh, I don't know his name but yes, he's new. Don't approach him, though. He seems to be afraid of girls. I don't know why, though."

"Afraid? That's weird. He seems to be okay with Mitsuri."

"I know, right. Enough questions. Let's just study inside. Ne-chan told me that you'll be a Kocho soon! So you'll need to learn lots about science!"

"Hey. That snake will bite if you hold it that way."

"Oh! Sorry— Um, you're Mitsuri-san's friend, right? You're not afraid of me?"

"Oh..."

"Oh..."

"Anyway, don't hold it like that. Aren't you afraid of it?"

"No..."

"Hey! Why are you playing with a snake?!"

"Oi Shinobu-san! Mitsuri's friend was—Oh, where is he?"

"Huh? That boy? He's not supposed to be here... Perhaps he ran away. I heard he had been adopted. But you know what? Let's just go inside. Leave that snake alone."

"Shinobu-san! I know that guy..."

"Yep. He's that kid from before. He's all grown up too. I guess, we'll be co-workers now? He'll be volunteering here as well to teach science with me. Anyways, Mitsuri's also here, she'll be teaching art. You should meet with her soon!"

End of Flashback

"Iguro-san? Y-you look... familiar..."

"Yes. You've met me and Kaburamaru before."

"You are kidding right? You can't be that boy from the foster home. Mitsuri-san's friend? My sister's co-worker? You died... You're already dead... Like them..."

It seems like your words have stunned Iguro. Regret started to paint on his face as he looked away from your wondering expression.

But here you are now. Answers. You need answers. If he had known you all this time, he must have known the trauma that you experienced when you saw the foster home getting burned with Shinobu, Mitsuri, and that unknown lad, who is apparently him, as they tried to save the children that they had been teaching science four years ago.

Why is he here now?

You shove Obanai away and glared at him. "This must have been a sick joke, sensei. You can't be that boy with my sister... No one has escaped that fire that night."

"I did, and I'm sorry I wasn't able to save your sister and Mitsuri."

"It's all too much for me now. Can I go?"

Tears suddenly escaped your wide eyes, and there, Obanai felt his chest tighten. He had expected you to react this way, but no matter how he practiced it, he could never prepare himself for the real thing.

Just like how he wasn't prepared to see his first love get burned to ashes before.

"Y/N, I'm sorry." Obanai tried to touch you, but then you swatted his hand away and gave him a glare.

Your passion turned to anger as you felt betrayed. All you can think of is why. He should have been honest. What other things is he hiding from you, then?

"Y/N, I never knew at first that you were Shinobu's sister. I heard she has siblings, but I didn't even know who they were. I and your sister barely had any encounters before except when we were teaching the kids at the foster home. How could I know?"

You didn't speak. You wanted to hear more.

"I mean, it just dawned on me when you told me about your memory back when you were 5. That's the only time I managed to fit in the pieces."

"What do you mean?"

"You're that little girl I saw when I was 12. The girl whom Kaburamaru almost bit. You had Shinobu's surname, so you got adopted by them. So that's also why you were gone when I came back to visit. Y/N... You were here with me all the time. It was all late when I realised it."

"Then why didn't you say anything?"

Obanai's eyebrows creased in frustration. "What should I say then? 'Hi, I'm Obanai, the boy from the foster home who also didn't manage to save your sister from the fire. How are you?'"

Sarcasm was obvious in his tone, which offended you a bit, so you decided to just leave. Perhaps this conversation shouldn't be happening right now. You want to move on. You're moving on, for goodness sake!

And now you're back to square one again.

𝓘 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓲𝓽'𝓼 𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓿𝔂 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓠𝔀𝓠

But I swear, it'll be sweeter soon!

And yes, this will be in two-chapters as it is too long and too heavy than I anticipated XD

So see you soon on the next chapter!

Feel free to reblog, comment, and send a request! Will appreciate that my loves~

Wuvyouuuu! Just be on the lookout to our next series and of course, the ending of 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐘𝐨𝐮!

MDNI!

Ja ne~

~𝓒𝓱𝓲𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓾-𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷🌸

𝐊𝐲𝐨𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐤𝐮 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐧 𝐔𝐳𝐮𝐢 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐆𝐢𝐲𝐮 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐤𝐚 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐎𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐢 𝐈𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫>

[btskitty17]

Object of Curiosity (Park Jimin X Fem! Reader One-Shot)

Please Read: Park Jimin BTS one shot, flirty dance teacher Jimin, shy and slightly awkward fem! character (insert any name of your choice in the blanks), smutty conclusion (oral, fem! receiving), mutual crush, sensual tension and yearning, strangers-to-friends-to-fling-to-relationship word count: 4.4k

masterlist

"No amount of her coquette tantrums could deprive him of his lavish meal now."

Park Jimin is so charming that it is almost obscene.

The silver-hued tassels of a pair of long earrings twinkled on his shoulder as he swerved from side to side in front of the mirror with his eyes narrowed in concentration. Both the men and women in the studio watched, enraptured by his lithe movements.

Park Jimin’s Contemporary Dance Class started off in a somewhat shabby basement as a no-name establishment, however, it had grown into a formidable performing arts institution over the course of five years, certainly in a league of its own and it seemed to embrace and attract people from all walks of life.

Jimin’s rhythmic dance videos had become an internet sensation, broadcasting his delicate yet masterful moves to the world. In the practice videos, he seemed hypnotic, kneeling on an oakwood dance platform, performing the floor-work part of the routine or showcasing his command over body-rolls as a slew of layered necklaces clattered atop his collarbones.

On the subway back home, as ___ mindlessly scrolled through her explore feed, a reel, posted by a local dance academy, caught her attention, bringing her doom-scrolling to an abrupt halt. She did not want to lose the video in a sea of algorithm-pushed content so she saved it before watching it. And she watched it again. And yet again. The raven-haired man in the video, had her wrapped around his bejewelled finger, all in sixty seconds as she stopped herself from hitting replay yet again and explored the page that had posted the video, brimming with the novel temptation of more unwatched videos of that man’s graceful swaying: from stage performances to practice routines, these videos were watched late into the night as ___ pored over her laptop for a better, more focused view, especially that of his elusive abs. Park Jimin was his name.

___ decided to channel her obsession with Jimin into a hobby. Her nightly routine of binging Jimin’s dance videos could be more than just her eyeing him while munching on spicy potato crisps, spilling crumbs on the couch’s armrest. She ended up signing up for the weekend classes, the ones for lesser technical dancers, a euphemism for those amateurs who could not possibly fathom the mid-air flips that Jimin and his disciples perform with ease.

___ had been feeling a sense of mundanity, stemming from her quotidian routine of working at her job and then coming home to a soupy bowl of ramyeon, slurped alongside a loud sitcom blaring on the television, which is the sound that she fell asleep to on most nights; she goes on to perform the very same activities the next day, with a mind-numbingly boring accuracy. Perhaps a dance class could help her feel a spark.  And the prospect of a handsome teacher certainly does strengthen her case: someone that she now had a full-blown crush on, albeit she had only met him virtually.

On an Autumn Saturday, the evening batch of dance students, comprising of about fifty individuals, a relatively smaller group from the other ones learning ballet and hip-hop, gathered before the majestic Park Jimin. So did Y/N.

“Fledglings!”  Jimin clasped his hands together. “I understand that you are all just starting out! We shall begin by doing some stretches and jumping jacks to loosen up,” his feather-light voice splashed across the dance studio, like an oncoming oceanic wave as he looked at each and every participant of the class, attempting to register their unfamiliar faces. ___ felt that Jimin’s eyes sauntered their way over and across her body for a suspiciously long amount of time. Or she could have been mistaken. The curve of Jimin’s plush lips seemed to carry a bit of interest and inquisitiveness.

Clad in her black tank-top, ___ attempted to stretch as decently as she could while the hem of her barely-there clothing started to inch upwards her waistline, unveiling a smidgen of skin. Jimin surveyed the room, comically scolding anyone whose stretching was not fulfilling his standards. Y/N felt his warm presence situating itself behind herself as she continued her exercise.

“The bouncing, the shaking,” Jimin clicked his tongue, “this is not the apt time and place for that.”

___ was suddenly conscious of her body in the impossibly smallest of ways, the slightest sheen of sweat on her forearms, the way the strands of her unruly hair were scattered across her forehead and the unintentional quivering of her limbs, caused by her erratic, almost non-existent workout schedule. If only she had been more regular! She halted her stretching and sheepishly peered over shoulder at Jimin.

___ could feel her mouth dampen from the slightest eye contact with him. Jimin wore a playful half-smile, and he moved forward to place a hand on the small of her back to guide her movements, with his eyes showcasing amusement. ___ nearly shuddered at his touch: the cold metal of his ring was seeping through the waify fabric of her top. Jimin’s nimble fingers deftly clasped her wrists, now taking charge of her workout and, her sanity, too.

“You are too stiff. You need to gradually ease into it,” Jimin whispered into her ear, aligning his chest with her back, assisting her in stretching. Was a dance teacher supposed to be this touchy? Jimin’s breathing seemed surprisingly irregular, especially for someone who is a dancer and very much in control of these tendencies during performances; she could hear the hitches in his breath and the gasps that he was swallowing as her head was synced with his chest, while stretching upwards.  ___ felt as if the warmup section of the class would exhaust all of her energy. It wasn’t the workout that was draining her: it was the red-hot proximity of Park Jimin that made her feel like she was under a constant gaze of burning scrutiny. Jimin’s subtle woody cologne swirled throughout her senses, creating an odd sensation of intoxication. All because the man was helping her stretch.

“Do you think you could reach the climax part on your own, or do you need me to hold your hand through this,” Jimin asked in a sing-song teasing voice, setting ___’s cheeks on fire.

Jimin’s memory pulsed with the close-ups of ____’s curves; since the moment she had stepped foot into his dance class, he had been …distracted to say the least.  He did not want to be inappropriate by any means, he had of course maintained decorum, however, what he had developed was a symptom of an instant crush. ___’s deer-alert eyes as she attempted to follow along his dance-steps nearly pierced his heart because of how adorable they made her seem: she was a strange mixture of charm and clumsiness. Her nonchalant walk somehow captured his attention; she possessed an unmistakable air of purity and had the sort of unassuming beauty that Jimin deems to be as the archetype of the kind of woman he finds attractive.

As several weekends went by, Jimin found himself peculiarly obsessed with ___ and he started looking forward to the Saturday and Sunday classes, nearly waiting by the door like an expectant pet and being both relieved and exhilarated to see that she had not dropped out of his institute, despite the monstrosity that her dancing was. But that was his job, he was supposed to teach her to relax and to stop her body from being so hardened. If only he could stop being hard in places he shouldn’t be when he sees her. Sometimes it was her floral scent, sometimes it was her wide-eyed stare, her evident nervousness or her giggles at her own silliness: Jimin could not afford to peel his eyes off her.

Electric, it felt. Jimin sensed tiny eruptions throughout his veins if their hands grazed each other while dancing or when the ice broke between them and they conversed about the weather and politics, gradually familiarising themselves with the other, or when she stopped to sip from her bubble-pink metallic water bottle and the tiniest of drops raced from her strawberry-hued lips, down her swanlike neck, towards her ample cleavage: oh, how he envied that wicked drop of water!

While Jimin sassily snaps at students for showcasing lacklustre pirouettes in his ballet classes, he pardons the ungraceful stumbling of ____’s feet during steps that involve turning; what a gorgeous little klutz, Jimin laughed quietly to himself.  The songs ___ had suggested made their way to his playlist: a string of songs that he played at midnight and believed that although ___’s dancing was questionable, her music taste certainly wasn’t something to be gawked at. After sharing music, they followed each other on social media, (initiated by Jimin, given his curiosity about her life) leading up to an innocuous exchange of humorous memes. Despite being an introvert, ___ had opened up to Jimin.

Jimin realised that he had been hawk-eyed in monitoring all her moves on the ‘gram, although she barely posted any pictures of herself: it was all pictures of annotated stacks of books, the horizon at sunrise and stray cats. Mysterious vibe, I like it, he thought.  

 ___ had discovered that there was so much more to Jimin than his looks, albeit his looks alone brought a lot of the footfall to the dance classes. He was not a shallow person; there was a latent passion in his heart to change things for better, evidenced by his charitable educational projects for children in the vicinity, which he had spearheaded since the very year that his institute came into being. Jimin was also quite the conversationalist: he could be talking about the global political economy at one minute and expressing his thoughts on Sabrina Carpenter’s new album in the very next breath. ___ admired how his social butterfly self was the total opposite of her wallflower demeanour; he could slither his way into any discussion in the world, just about as smoothly as he moved.

mature content ahead: NSFW, description of physical intimacy

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” Jimin drawled into her ears, his palms firmly planted on either side of her head, as he angled his face downwards to capture her expression with his ravenous eyes.

The studio was empty. The last batch of students had hurriedly scuttered away, given that it was a Saturday night. ___ stuck around just to watch him. Over the past six months, which seemed to fly by, their connection had deepened.

“I really don’t. I feel like I come off as clumsy,” ___ said, her cheeks flustered by the undivided attention that Jimin was bestowing upon her.

“You are,” he sniggered. “But there’s also something that calls out to me. The vocabulary of your body language is quite flirtatious, maybe you are unaware of it; it is the kind of subtle, repressed sexiness that pulls me in. It is innate. One cannot just put on that front and you have that… if I may say so,” After giving it a light nibble, Jimin left the ghost of his lips on the tip of her now reddened right ear and flashed an elusive smile her way.

“Well, I have a confession to make,” ___ choked out, somehow, befuddled by the intensity of Jimin’s nearness and her own wildly thrumming heart. Jimin expressed his interest with his eyebrows raised, his eyes still fixed on her form.

“I joined these classes because of my initial fascination with you, after seeing you on social media.”

“And? You are not fascinated by me anymore? Apologies for shattering your beautiful illusions,” Jimin broke into a teasing laugh, taking back a few steps.

“No! But that was, purely because of your outer beauty. I am trying to say that after getting to know you, there are many more reasons that I like keeping you company. Reasons that are not at all superficial.”

“So you like me,” Jimin said in a hushed voice, as if their clandestine meeting could be interrupted any moment by an intruder who may have been eavesdropping on them. Even though they were all by themselves in the studio; the ferocity of their solitude was just too much.

___ gazed at him, lulled by his presence, unable to do anything but take in the magnificence of Park Jimin who was now stretching his arms, looking like a nymph under a waterfall and heading dangerously close towards her very own self.

Jimin’s beautiful fingers reached out to caress ___’s cheek while reading the emotion encased behind her eyes. Anticipation? Love? Lust? Or all three of them? He was awfully eager to find out, so he dipped his head to the level of her height and delicately enveloped his lips with hers, as soft and sweet as he could be. ___ fervently kissed him back with Jimin snaking his hands around her waist, not even leaving an infinitesimal speck of distance between them. As Jimin stirred for a second in order to give her space and time to breathe, ___ released a groan of disapproval, resenting even a moment of separation from Jimin: a gesture that made him smile.

As he continued kissing downwards her neck, Jimin nudged her towards the couch, guiding her face-first, with an abundant amount of kissing of course. ___ nearly tripped over her feet as she landed on the couch with a squeak escaping her lips, making Jimin simper into the still unbroken kiss as he continued to hold her. Jimin’s fingertips lightly fluttered over the straps of her summer dress, as if seeking permission. ___ longingly stared at him from beneath her eyelashes, and coyly nodded.

The fabric of her dress was peeled off her skin by Jimin with the utmost care as he took it off her frame and flung it sideways. He took a few steps back, and with his eyes gleaming, Jimin looked at ___ from head to toe, as if she were an artwork showcased at a museum, much like the very first day that he had seen her.

“What?” ___ stuttered shyly shielding her almost-bare self with her arms from his wild eyes.

“Exquisite. The pink lace. Of course. Pretty like you.”

Jimin knelt on his knees on the oakwood floor, and deftly placed an open-mouthed kiss on her now exposed stomach, leaving behind a hot patch of wetness as his intrepid fingers began to fiddle with the hook of her rose-coloured bralette, undoing it in no time. Jimin’s eyes had now lost their earlier mischievous glint, they acquired a darker, more sensuous hue as he took in the mouthwatering sight before him.

 The unrestrained galore of ___’s breasts made his breathing inconsistent and his mouth salivate… which was something that he put to good use; he plopped his watery mouth on her right nipple, making ___ gasp in surprise while his other hand fondled the left one (which would soon receive the same amount of affection as the other one), the pads of his fingers heatedly felt each and every inch of her skin. With wetness pooling between her thighs unchecked, ___ trembled from Jimin’s brazen devotion to her chest; she felt as if several jolts of electricity were running through her veins at once.

“The bedframe. I need to pull that out… from beneath the couch. Wait. We are going to need it,” Jimin huffed, momentarily stepping away from their rendezvous to make it more comfortable for them: he had one of those sofa-beds in his personal room at the studio… couches that transform into beds for the evenings that he may be too tired after dancing.

Jimin dragged ___ by her arms to the front of the bed and picked up exactly where he left of. He kissed her chest once again before placing his palms flat against her thighs, which felt warm and buttery soft. Jimin watched her face intently for a reaction when he began to circle ___’s inner thigh with his index finger, lingering dangerously close to her pretty pink panties with the light colour doing nothing to conceal the speckle of dampness smackdab in the centre, begging for Jimin to pay heed to it. ___ bit back her pathetic mewling which was about to spill from her lips.

___’s hands found their way to Jimin’s stylish suspenders, but they lacked the sophisticated restraint of Park Jimin; she was famished for some form of contact with his skin. She tugged at the back yoke of the suspenders’ braces in anguish, looking at Jimin’s clouded eyes; Jimin assisted her in snapping them off as they fell slackened around his waist, his eyes not leaving ___’s alluring bosom.

After painfully forsaking her unimaginably doughy thighs, Jimin’s elegant fingers flitted over the middle of her panties, feeling up their way over her sopping slit, making Jimin scrunch up his eyes and groan at the its drenched state. ___was a blushing mess, mumbling his name out of surprise. His hands tenderly shed the last piece of clothing on her body: Jimin hooked both of his hands at the sides of her thighs and stripped her underwear off her which had grown quite stubborn, owing to the oozing pond of desire surrounding it. After undressing her, Jimin examined her panty, placed daintily on his palm. ___ was flabbergasted to witness what occurred right after. He brought the fabric close to his nose and inhaled her sweet scent, almost as if it was his life-source, with his tongue sticking out.

“What are you doing,” ___ said, with an arm outstretched to grab her panty back and shielding her bare breasts with another.

“This belongs to me now,” Jimin snickered, clutching the lacey number tightly in hand and twirling it with his fingers like a newfound jewel; the core of the underwear was exposed to his nose yet again, as his eyelashes fluttered shut, and a hungry whiff passed through his lungs; ___ was certainly delectable to taste, he mused.

___ succumbed to the discomfiture creeping up on her cheeks in the form of a raging blush and staggered backwards onto the sofa-bed with Jimin’s unforgiving gaze taking in every single movement of hers. Jimin neatly tucked her shell-pink panty into the drawer beside him, securely locking it behind himself as if that piece of underclothing was the kind of treasure that numerous people would covet.  

“I have, in this very room, often fantasised about having you unclothed, I must admit. I have pictured it one too many times. And so much more,” Jimin backed ___ into the mattress, crawling up on the sofa-bed with his knees bent and cornering his very dear and very naked ___. Jimin hastily unbuttoned his crisp white shirt, watching ___’s shy eyes every second and how they flickered rapidly as his toned chest was unravelled before her, wherein the unclicking of each button heightened the delicious ache between her legs.

___ extended her hand to discern a sensation of Jimin’s bare chest; her palms were itching to do so. She explored the expanse of his shirtless torso, gingerly abandoning her bashfulness. Jimin kissed her once again, loosely lacing his forearms around her shoulders; the kiss was unhurried and it was Park Jimin at his best, he could hear her suppressed whimpers from their hot-mouthed smooch alone.

“Jimin-n-n,” ___ sputtered, her voice livid with need when Jimin pulled away from the kiss.

“I know, I know.”

The innermost crevice of her thighs glistened with the dewdrops of her craving and those drove Jimin into a stuporous daze wherein the only thing he knew that he was being devoured by his all-consuming thirst and ___ was spurting like a delicious fountain. Jimin bowed down on the bed to be eye-level with her pitifully wet pussy, providing ___ a glorious panorama of the series of Moon phase tattoos scrolled from the base of his neck to the middle of his spine.

As ___ drooled over Jimin’s body art, she felt a tug at both her feet with Jimin striving to spread her legs; ___ unconsciously rubbed her thighs together, strained by her shyness once again. Jimin clicked his tongue, and this time, with more determination, forked her legs; he anchored both her lower limbs on each side of his shoulders as he greedily observed the congealed strings of juices that swirled in her cunt, freefalling onto the bedsheet. The glimpses of partially-clad Jimin's taut abs and the patchwork of his veins protruding from his forearms could almost propel ___ into a blinding orgasm, untouched.

Kisses were peppered on the undersides of her thighs as Jimin started to salivate, rapturous to follow the enticing trail of aroma being emitted from ___’s weeping centre.

"You are going to make the floorboard leak, running like a faucet," Jimin growled lowly, smacking his lips.

When Jimin leant closer to her pussy, ___ whined, crossing her legs on his bare back out of sheer habit, however, Jimin smirked at the undeniable closeness of her cunt: no amount of her coquette tantrums could deprive him of his lavish meal now.

“Look at you. I had no idea you could be this filthy. Your fucking pussy is overflowing right in front of my eyes and I haven’t even touched you,” upon hearing the so very refined Park Jimin’s extremely lewd choice of words reverberating through her skin, for the first time in her life, ___ almost sensed another tidal wave of wetness gush through her cunt, her breasts heaving up and down with her saliva-slicked nipples glimmering pertly.

Jimin’s leather pants seemed to have deflated, closing in on tightly on his dick, painfully smothering it; but it was his member that was soaked in precum and had burgeoned in size, owing to the starkly naked visual of his crush splayed out before him, moaning with her pussy pleasurably bubbling: the scene sparked a fire at the pit of his stomach, making him needier by the minute. He wanted nothing more than to shimmy off the waistband of his briefs and pants and fuck her mercilessly right into her creaming cunt but, he was aware that that had to wait and he had to practise some restraint; they had a longer way to go for that to happen, at least for now.

Jimin traced the glossy flower-bud of her cunt with his finger, inciting a shocked, incisive intake of breath from ___ and then plopped his mouth on her clit, sucking it with his lips as ___ breathlessly thrashed about, her legs squeezing Jimin’s torso between themselves. One of his hands solidly grasped her left thigh in its place, and another situated itself at her glossily wet entrance as his index finger toyed with the tight trench of her pussy, eliciting a panting chorus of his name from her lips. He inserted a dexterous finger into her most intimate cavity and the midriff of ___’s body rose up from the sofa-bed, as if levitating. Jimin, unfrazzled by her explosive reaction and with a one track-mind to finally relish his personal delicacy, leapt forward with his mouth puckered and settled an open-lipped kiss on her cunt, the sap of her pussy glazing his lush lips.

Jimin’s girthy finger soon acquired a maddening pace as it vanished inside her pussy and then exited and he repeated these motions as ____’s pleading grew louder with each moment. She cleaved around his mouth which was afflicting an unrelenting force on her cunt, licking, lightly biting and mouthing all over it. His skilfull tongue worked in tandem with and seemed to be just as agile as his finger as he rolled her bud around in his mouth with a spinning whirl. The onslaught of Jimin’s tongue had ___ convulsing and scampering to clench his hair in her hands as his head bobbled between her legs.

"I want this taste on my tongue forever. You are so enjoyable; you have no clue," Jimin muttered hoarsely while coming up for air before diving face-first into her pussy once again.

"Jimin, fuck.... I-really, I really need you Jim..." ___ was interrupted by a strangled moan hurtling from her own throat as she felt Jimin's finger traverse through a particularly sensitive spot, and upon reading her bodily reaction, Jimin thrust his tongue in the same area, making ___ quiver and shriek his full name.

"Damn, do you want people to think that I am running a torturous dungeon rather than a dance studio in here, screaming like that," Jimin smirked, pleased with himself as he persistently fingered her right where she needed it the most, with his tongue lapping up all of her seductive juices.

___ started to shiver as a deluge of sensations begin to take over her consciousness; Jimin was ceaseless with his mouth attacking every inch of her cunt, exploring pleasurable places that she did not even know existed as his fingers fucked her into a delirium. His now sweat-streaked hair was plastered across her thighs, tickling her with each rise and fall of his head between her legs as he kept making his craving for her well-known through his dirty monologues.

___ grabbed Jimin's bare biceps to steady herself as he noisily slurped on her clit, drool pouring from his mouth to the shiny folds of her pussy, foreseeing a strong climax coming. She felt a colossal flare forming in her belly, desperate to be released as her moans created even more clamour; in her head, a montage of the vulgar yet beautiful things that shirtless Jimin had said to her played on loop, sending her over the edge. In a hot flash, she orgasmed as Jimin's tongue gave her one final flick and then, after having depleted all her strength, her limbs drooped around him, her eyes closing.

Jimin, with his measured movements, brought ___ an orgasm that would forever be indelible in her mind; it would be the yardstick for the other ones in the future. After she came, Jimin sincerely cleaned her up between her inner thighs with his tongue as she hissed because of her recent climax and oversensitivity in the zone.

"Let me bring you some warm water and a fresh washcloth, I have some supplies in a cabinet right here," Jimin said, walking up to the studio's corridor, while licking his lips, seeking the sweet and briny aftertaste of ___.

"Wait. Jimin. What about you," ___ said groggily, with her eyes half-shut, referring to his evident full-on boner.

"Uh, I will take care of that... later."

"No. I want you."

"It is not the time for that yet. Let me take you to dinner first. Also, have you seen yourself? You will pass out from round two, my pillow princess," Jimin laughed, handing her the rumpled dress that he had discarded off her body a while ago.

A month later

"I could never move like you in a thousand years. I had thought about getting another dancing tutorial class before coming to yours in order to impress you and not be so inelegant in front of you," ___ reminisced about the early days of getting to know her now-boyfriend Jimin.

"Even though your bodily coordination while dancing is reproachable, I must say that I was already quite impressed after holding a few conversations with you, my smarty-pants. Not to mention I was bowled over by your beauty," Jimin affectionately pecked her forehead, cuddling her under a soft duvet as they both drifted off to sleep.

a/n: my first time ever writing smut and all my knowledge about it comes from books and movies...not me trying to avoid writing it in this one-shot for the longest time possible, because you know, context is important. lol.

DISCLAIMER  This is a work of fanfiction with the BTS members as characters; I do not claim ownership to the aforementioned characters. This fanfiction has been written solely for entertainment.

© @btskitty17 on tumblr 2024

[wandafiction]

Supportive Friend

Warnings: G!P Reader, WandaNat X Reader (Platonic), Description of Injury, Bullying, Self depreciation, Panicked Peter Parker, Best Friend Peter Parker, Angst, Fluff and Humour.

"Miss Wanda! Miss Natasha!" Peter runs through the halls of the compound stopping at every door to open it, taking a look in trying to find the couple. He didn't care if he interrupted importing meetings or not, what was important is he found the two of them. 

"Miss Wanda! Miss Natasha!" He slides along the shared kitchen floor, catching himself on the counter to stop himself finally having found the two of them. Natasha was standing behind Wanda with her arms wrapped around her waist while the Sokovian cooked for the two of them. 

"What's wrong Pete?" Natasha removes herself from Wanda, quietly making her way in front of Peter who is waving his hands frantically as he tries and regulates his breathing. 

"Pete, I need you to breathe and tell me what's going on bud." Wanda had moved the pan she was using onto a different hob, turning the cooker off as she gently cups the boy's cheeks to get him to look at her. "In and out Pete. What's got you in such a panic?" 

"It's….it's...I…." Peter is sucking in harsh breaths working himself up as he tries to tell the two women what's going on. "It's Y/n." 

"What about Y/n?" Natasha and Wanda are both as concerned as each other, never seeing Peter as panicked as this and it having something to do with you made them panic. 

"She….help…" Peter couldn't say anything more, instead choosing to grab the women's hands and start leading them to his room. 

The moment the door opens they both gasp at the sight of your bloody and beaten face, struggling to take your own top off. Wincing with every little movement you made. The sound of the door hitting the wall makes you jump, moving further away from where the sound came from as your eyes close tightly shut cowering away from the people who have just entered. 

"She won't let me help." Peter looks down at his hands, fiddling with his fingers. "Can you please help her?" 

"Of course we can Pete." Wanda places her hands on the boy's shoulders gently guiding him out of the room as Natasha stays frozen to the spot, her eyes glossing over at the sight of you in front of her. 

"Please help her Miss Wanda." Wanda nods quickly, bringing a hand up to cup the boy's face. 

"We will, I promise but I need to know what happened." Wanda's voice is gentle with no sign of anger towards Peter and he visibly relaxes when he realises he is not in trouble. 

"She...she. Flash was being flash and had stolen some of my worksheets. You see I do some of my work for my spidey suit at school, I have permission from Mr Stark to take the work with me, and flash ripped it from my hands at lunch and ripped it up. Y/n, she, uh, she pushed him and told him to pick on someone his own size. I mean she isn't that much taller than me so that sentence doesn't actually mean anything."

"Peter, you're rambling." Wanda smiles a little knowing that Peter can ramble for days if you don't stop him. 

"Sorry Miss Wanda." He bows his head, but Wanda pulls him into a hug knowing he most definitely needs one. 

"So tell me again. What happened?" 

"She pushed him. He, uh fell, but he was quick to get back up and try to hit her. Of course no one knows she is an avenger so when she caught his fist it made him even more angry. She shoved him back down, grabbed my hand and led me out of the cafeteria. I thought that was the end of it. But after our last class today when we were just about to walk down the stairs, Flash came running up behind us and pushed her. She fell down the stairs Miss Wanda. She hit the wall a few times and the metal of the bannister. She hit the ground hard, Flash took advantage and got a few kicks to her face and stomach, shouting about how she had embarrassed him in front of everyone. She just let him hit her, she didn’t even try to fight back and me and some other students had to pull him off of her. I had to get MJ and Ned to help me bring her to the car, she could hardly hold up her own body weight. I, I, there was so much blood from her nose Mr Stark is going to kill me. It's all over the back seat." 

"No he won't. You were helping a friend. Thank you Pete. Why don't you head to her room and get yourself cleaned up. I will come and get you when we are done here." Peter nods quickly before looking up at Wanda with fresh tears in his eyes. 

"She would let us help. We got her to the car but as soon as we went to see her injuries she pushed us away. Why won't she let me help her, Miss Wanda?" Wanda looks down at the boy sympathetically.

"I can't answer that one for you Pete. Maybe you need to have a chat with her once she is all healed." He nods before quickly giving Wanda another hug before walking away and heading to Y/n's room, while Wanda re enters Peter's room closing and locking the door behind her. 

"I've got you, arms up slowly for me." Wanda turns to see Natasha helping to take your top off for you. Your eyes are closed as you slowly lift your arms just above your head as Natasha’s hands guide the thin shirt off your body, chucking it to the floor behind her but deciding to keep your sports bra on.

"Hurts." Your voice cracks as your leg bounces up and down trying to distract yourself from the pain, as Natasha’s fingers trace the cuts and bruises on your face before moving down to your torso.

"I know honey, I know but I've got  your top off now we can assess your injuries." Natasha turns her head to look at Wanda with worry filling her features. “Can you sit behind her Wanda, to support her while I do this?”

“Mhmm.” Wanda slowly moves into the bed, sitting herself behind you, sitting on her calves as she gently pulls your body back to rest against hers. Her arms rubbing up and down your arms to try and give you any form of comfort. “She fell down the stairs Tasha.”

“Okay. uhm.” Natasha clears her throat trying to stop herself from crying when she places her hand on your bruised ribs and sees your body flinching away from her. “Honey, I'm going to have to take your pants off too, so I can see if there are any injuries to your legs. Is that okay?”

“Yeah.” It comes out as a whisper as you turn your head to hide it in the crook of Wanda’s neck as Natsha slowly and with all the care in the world takes your pants off for you. 

“Oh, honey.” Wanda takes a quick glance down to your body and legs, a few tears building in her eyes when she sees the multitude of bruises on your ribs, stomach and legs. “Okay, I don't see any deep cuts, just a lot of bruising. I'm going to use some cream that will help with the swelling and bruising okay?”

"Nice boxers." You laugh as Wanda points out what's printed on your boxer, wincing slightly as you laugh.

"Don't make me laugh, it hurts. I'm just trying to be a supportive friend." You shrug as Wanda giggles. 

"Well I'm sure Peter would be flattered to know you wear spiderman boxers." You huff out a small laugh before looking at the older woman behind you.

“I'm sorry, I just got so mad.” You choke out as you finally let the sob you have been holding back escape.

“Oh sweet girl you have nothing to be sorry for.” Wanda wraps her arms around your shoulders, making sure to avoid any bruises as she gently pulls your body closer to hers. 

“I shouldn’t have pushed him. You told me to never let my anger get the better of me, and I did. I’m sorry Wanda.” Wanda shakes her head lightly bringing her hand to your face to tilt your head to look at her, as Natasha leaves the room to grab what she needs.

“Sweet girl, you were defending your friend. You did nothing wrong. We are not mad at you, we just hate seeing you get hurt. Peter is really worried about you, and I'm sure MJ and Ned are too. He said you didn't let them help.” You shake your head biting at your lip. “You’ve not told them.”

“No. They will think I'm a freak and then I will have no one left and I will be all alone. It’s better that they don’t know. They would hate me.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that, you are not a freak. You are unique, it makes you a 1 in a million and there is nothing wrong with it. If you don’t want to tell him that's fine, but I don't think he will hate you. I don’t think any of them will.” You snuggle into Wanda more, the older Sokovian being like an older sister to you from the moment you joined the avengers a few years ago after Natasha had rescued you from the red room with Yelena’s help.

You remember the day she found out about you being intersex. You had been changing after just getting out of the shower trying to relax after a training session. Usually you are more careful about changing, making sure to get a private cubicle. But on this one day all of the cubicles were taken, and you thought if you were quick enough no one would walk in while getting changed in the public changing room. Well you were wrong because the moment you pulled your boxers down Wanda came strolling into the room with her gym bag slung over her shoulder. 

You weren’t quick enough to grab your towel and put it in front of you, and when you heard Wanda’s bag drop to the floor and her apologise over and over again for walking in without making sure no one was already in the changing room. It wasn’t that Wanda cared if people got changed in front of her, that's why there were a few different changing rooms so people could decide where to get changed. It was more the fact she knew you used the private ones and she had now discovered the reason why. What surprised Wanda the most was the way you had managed to quickly get changed, the only indicator it was safe for there to turn around was when you walked past her muttering an apology. 

You avoided Wanda like the plague after the incident, fully expecting her to turn around and call you a freak and every other name under the sun. whenever she entered a room, you left, whenever she tried talking to you during team bonding you kept your answers short and avoided eye contact. It got so bad that she stopped trying to talk to you and assumed that because she had walked in on you, that you found a disliking for her. 

You felt bad because you and Wanda had become so close. The incident happened only 6 months after joining the Avengers programme, Natasha having helped you get settled. It was never a secret that you and Natasha were like siblings, and that you only ever felt comfortable doing anything during team bonding with her. It was also not a secret that her and Wanda were a couple. When it wasn't you snuggled into Natasha it was Wanda. You and Wanda had talked a couple of times here and there but nothing more than small talk. 

Until one night you had a nightmare. You went straight to Natasha's room, knocking softly as you held in a sob but allowed the tears to flow. When Wanda was the one to answer the door you wiped your tears away trying to pretend nothing was wrong but of course she had caught you crying. She let you know Natasha had been called on an emergency mission but you were more than welcome to come in. It took you a few seconds to step into the room, and when you did you broke down the nightmare replaying over and over again. Wanda pulled you into a tight embrace, moving the both of you over to the bed where she lowered you both into. She held you, sang sokovian lullabies to you until you fell asleep. She stayed up to make sure you were okay. 

And now she was your other sister, just like Natasha. You didn't trust anyone more than them. They were your people.

So when you started avoiding Wanda, they both noticed.

It wasn’t until you were pinned against the wall by her girlfriend, the one and only and highly terrifying black widow that you revealed the truth. Natasha knew of your not so little friend, having many a mission with you where you had to be patched up and you only trusted her to do so. So when you told her that you didn’t want Wanda to think of you as a freak, she hit you around the back of the head calling you an idiot, dragged you down to her and Wanda’s shared room and locked the both of you in until you talked it out. 

“Your thoughts are loud sweet girl.” You giggle into Wanda’s shoulders with a shrug.

“Sorry. You really think Peter will be okay with it if I tell him.”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself.” You sit up straight, the sudden movement causing you to hiss in pain as you bring your hands to your ribs, your eyes looking in the doorway where you see Natasha standing with a very timid Peter. He has his hands over his eyes and his back turned to you.

“Peter, you can look. I'm still in my bra and underwear.” He turns around peeking through the gaps in his fingers letting out a breath when he sees you telling the truth. You and Peter had become quite comfortable with one another, you usually training in a sports bra and leggings so it isn’t anything new to the two of you. Apart from the fact he had never seen you without pants or some form of legging his eyes travel down a quick second, before quickly flicking up to look you in the eye.

“How are you feeling honey?” Natasha was the first one to break the silence that had taken over the room, you giving her a tight lipped smile and a small nod in reply. She waves the cream in her hand as she walks towards you. “Do you want me to do it, or have you got it?”

“Pete.” Your voice is quiet but your friend takes a step forward. “Can you do it? And I will explain everything as you do?”

“Yes, of course. Uhm, only if you're sure.” he takes a step towards you fiddling with his fingers.

“I wouldn't have asked if I wasnt.” he quickly nods giving a small thanks to Natasha when she hands the cream off.

“Get Friday to come and get us if you need anything okay.” Wanda stands up, joining Natasha’s side as they both prepare to leave you and Peter to talk.

“I will. Thank you, both of you.”

“Yes thank you Miss Wanda and you Miss Natasha. I didn’t know who else to go to.” He rubs the back of his head nervously as you let out a small giggle.

“How many times have they told you Pete to just call them Wanda and Nat.” he quickly nods, giving the two women a shy smile.

“Right, sorry. Thank you Miss, uh, Wanda and Nat.” They both giggle before turning to you in silent question and when you give them a small nod they turn to make their way out of the room closing the door behind them.

They stay at the door for a few seconds to make sure you are both going to be okay, both of them laughing when they hear Peter’s voice go up in pitch when he asks you why you have his Spider-man Boxers on.

“They’re comfy. And they’re mine not yours.” Wanda and Nat decide they don’t need to be there anymore, leaving the two of you to talk as they head down the hallway to the shared kitchen to finish making the food that had long been forgotten. 

“You have a what?!” Is the last thing they hear echoing down the hallway both with silly smiles on their faces. 

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