#okay I have to post this now and stop staring at it and hating it esbfuowejsd

[amorchai]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒.

this is a repost from my old blog. original post was 1,186 notes.

pairing(s): steve harrington x shy!reader

words: 1705

warnings/tags: best friends to lovers, mentions of food, shy!reader.

“stevie?” you ask into the empty air, tearing your eyes away from the view in steve’s passenger seat as you previously pondered silently. “mhm?” is all he mumbles back, to show he’s listening while scooping another spoonful of the chocolate ice cream from his tub.

you weren’t sure why you were having ice cream on a cold winter’s night, but steve had suggested it and you never tend to question steve’s random motives as such. your half-eaten raspberry tub rests on your lap, slightly melted from neglect during the reverie you coaxed yourself into. parked atop a hill overlooking the town below the moonlight.

you don’t continue at first, looking down to your knee which now bounces anxiously. and with the extra space of silence, steve looks up from his ice cream, eyes peeking beneath the strands of hair that poke his face.

sitting the tub into one cup holder, steve moves back against his seat, one hand beginning to drum the steering wheel aimlessly while he watches your body language. “you don’t like it? thought it was one of your favourites?” steve continues worriedly, and nods towards the dessert in your hands.

you shake your head, ushering it into the cup holder beside his with a very small, “no, no. i do… i’ll have it in a second.”

“okay.”

the car falls silent again, steve watches as you slump against your seat and lose yourself in the view again. however, steve can tell it isn’t the landscape you’re thinking of, but if only he could pinpoint exactly what you were thinking.

penny for your thoughts, steve thinks and hesitates upon saying. in the end leaving you be at first, instead reaching a hand over to your restless knee and it suddenly stops moving. steve squeezes it affectionately, a small message that he’s still listening as he turns down the radio ever so slightly.

“what was your first kiss like?” you splutter all of a sudden, voice quiet and a deep nervous inhale following. steve wasn’t expecting it, eyes blinking and eyebrows raising as he processes the question. he taps your knee once more before moving his hand back to his lap, and you immediately miss the warmth.

“eighth grade with vanessa johnson. i freaked out so bad i bit her lip and she never spoke to me again.”

with steve’s statement you giggle. of course he did just that. “you bit her?” you repeat, hand covering your mouth as more laughter falls from your lips, and steve joins you with an amused nod, “sure did.”

your hand falls from your mouth while you lean your head back to face the car roof, laughter slowly falling back down and steve can only watch you with the fondest smile. “do you bite every girl you kiss?”

“no. funnily enough it was an accident and she hated my guts for it,” steve responds to your teasing with another chuckle emitting his throat. your head tilts to the side, cheek pressed to your shoulder as you look over at him, his gaze intoxicating as he smiles so warmly towards you.

“i got much better, y’know?” steve smirks, ego boosting himself. “i know,” you reply without thinking and steve pulls a face, confusion and amusement packed into one before nudging your arm gently, “what do you mean you know?”

you laugh again, embarrassed and quietly when you reply, “high school girls locker room. steve harrington was the topic of conversation most days before gym class for the popular girls.” steve grimaces, unamused and worried about the fact that you had heard those conversations about steve’s kissing techniques.

“god, high school. don’t miss it a bit.”

you don’t reply. looking out the passenger door window and to the couple of cars upon that side, distractedly staring as you sigh sadly. and steve’s not an idiot. he’s your best friend and also someone who’s been infatuated with you for years, he can tell what you’re thinking this time.

“it’ll happen, you just need to find the right person.”

your first kiss. still in your twenties without having ever kissed someone, while others around you were now in serious relationships.

you close your eyes and sigh at steve’s words. that’s the problem; you have always had the right person but you’re too terrified to make the first move. the unbearable fear that steve wouldn’t like you back was excruciating while he dated several girls during your friendship that you hoped he would be brave enough to do something instead.

maybe he just wasn’t interested in you that way. since he had no problem asking all those other girls out, as far as you can tell.

“i have an idea.”

steve’s quiet and patient to match your timid voice, you can usually get more shy in conversations you’re scared of and he’s willing to hear you out. but when is he never. “yeah?” is all he asks, practically a whisper.

your words get lodged in your throat, how are you supposed to ask your best friend to kiss you? that’s not easy. what if he hates you after? what if he thinks you’re impatient? or what if it ruins your friendship?

you wave yourself off, cringing on yourself and about to change the subject completely while leaning a hand down for your tub of ice cream but steve grips your hand and bends his head down to meet your gaze.

“hey, hey, hey. you can tell me your idea. i won’t judge you.”

“i don’t know, steve, i—” steve turns, his body facing yours while he grips your other free hand and you follow his movements to face him more clearer. the car light was on while you previously ate and it illuminated the tanned skin upon his face, showing off the sweet dark freckles spotted across his cheek and neck. 

“i know who i want to be my first kiss.”

your forehead falls into you and steve’s held hands, embarrassed while a small ‘o’ shape forms on steve’s mouth as he thinks. “oh,” is all steve says, a pang of hurt sprawling across his chest rapidly at the realisation of... someone. someone.

before you can lift your head to ramble an apology about how stupid it is, steve beats you to it by holding onto his pride and storing away his sadness. “any guy would be so lucky to have you, yeah? so lucky, baby. and if you know who you want to be your first kiss, i say go for it.”

steve’s ready to continue, busy trying to seem like he’s okay with this idea and not noticing that you lift your head back up to look at him properly. he doesn’t notice the way you squeeze his gripping hands or giggle at his rushed voice, he doesn’t notice anything until you say, “steve.”

it’s quiet. your voice barely audible but steve thanks his good hearing because he immediately cuts himself off to listen to you. your faces are close, his pupils rapidly moving when they scan over your features as if he’s figuring out what you’re trying to say.

“what, baby?”

“steve.” you say again, tone knowing and desperate and almost a hint of feeling shameful and steve’s eyes widen when yours fleet to his lips for the shortest second. this can’t be real, steve thinks. there’s no way.

you huff when he still sits still, hands keep holding yours tightly, “don’t make me say it,” you whine and steve chuckles. he tilts his head down, forehead pressed against yours as he replies, “oh, but i want you to say it. please say it.”

you can feel the warmth spread to your face as another shy whine threatens to break your throat, but just as you move your head in an attempt to tuck it into his neck, steve’s hands are shuffling from yours so he’s cupping your face.

“it’s okay, baby. it’s okay. i can do it, i’ll gladly do it. if you want me to?” his thumbs swipe your skin so delicately and his eyes are gazing with such a genuine stare that you feel you might crumble. with a nod, there’s a strangled sentence you let out, “y-yes. i do, stevie.”

he chuckles once more, a mixture of how cute he thinks you are but also in disbelief that he’s about to kiss you.

steve’s so slow, head tilting as he leans forward so his nose runs across your skin and you can feel the ghost of his lips closer and closer. in a warm daze, you whisper into the cold car when steve’s lips touch the corner of yours, “don’t bite me.”

you feel the curve of his smile while his nose drags down your face so he’s tucked under your jaw, both of your chests heaving with laughter. your hands reach up so they are holding onto his wrists, and he looks back up at your cupped face, “no promises, you’ll probably taste of raspberry ice cream.”

this time steve’s patience isn’t as strong, leaning forward to crash his lips against yours in what you believe will be most breath-taking kiss you could ever receive. corners of both your lips threaten to smile as you feel the sparks within your chest and squeeze the skin of his wrists.

he tastes of chocolate from his ice cream and the coffee he had earlier on and you go light-headed at the thought, never wanting to pull away. he’s so sweet and slow, lips guiding yours against his so tenderly that you pray to god it won’t be the last steve harrington kiss you receive.

you both reluctantly pull away, lungs begging to be filled with air but steve only pulls away for a moment before pecking your lips again. your mind feels foggy from the gesture that you almost don’t notice the nip to your bottom lip as steve pulls away.

you gasp mockingly, opening your eyes with steve’s smug smirk, turning his palms from your face so he can hold yours again, resting them against your lap. “i was right,” steve says, leaning forward when you dip your head to contain your happiness.

“you taste like raspberries,” steve murmurs just as happily against your lips.

amorchai masterlist . taglist form

amorchai © ─ all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/copying will be tolerated.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

stained

TikTok inspo

Warnings: sweetheart!influencer!reader x Rafe (:

You practically shoved your phone in Rafes face as soon as you saw the video, him quirking an eyebrow at you.

“Okay…?” He replied to it. “What are you asking for?” He asked with a sigh, already knowing that look in your eyes.

You beamed, “You should let me do this with you!”

He huffed, shaking his head and narrowing his eyes. “Nah, baby, sorry. Not this time.” He was not about to have you post him shirtless, with lipstick stains all over his body. No way.

Your lips formed a pout, staring up at him with pleasing eyes. “Rafey, please! My followers would adore it! They’d eat that shit up!”

“Your followers will be perfectly fine without it.”

“You hate me, don’t you?” You asked him with your arms now folded over your chest, a frown on your face.

“I never said that, baby.”

“You hate me so much. I should post about how much my boyfriend hates me. Yup.” You pulled out your phone, him groaning and snatching it from your hands.

“No, I don’t.”

“If you love me, then you’ll do the video. If you hate me… you won’t.”

He groaned in annoyance again, handing you back your phone. “Fine. I’ll do it.” He grumbled.

“Yay! Oh my god, I love you, I love you.” You repeated, kissing him on his cheeks already.

“Jesus- okay, okay- love you too.”

So there he laid, while you kissed his back, his biceps, his neck, until most of his body was looking like it was covered in lipstick stains. You practically squealed when you grabbed the camera, finding a Lana del Rey sound before pushing record.

“This is so stupid.” He mumbled into the pillow, you giggling while holding his wrist down.

He sat up when you were pleased with it, watching the video with you. You hit post with the caption “I made him do this.”

The both of you laid in bed and watched as it blew up, watching people randomly comment.

TheywantTop

how do you tame him so well? ❤️ 8074

rafecam replied: she doesn’t.

y/n replied: rafe stop.

rafecam: 🫡

theywantTop replied to rafecam: you’re whipped

rafecam: jealous you can’t get any. ❤️200

User1:

I need him.

rafecam replied: you need a shower. ❤️3001

y/n replied to rafecam: I love you ���� 😭

user3 replied to rafecam: LMFAOO HES SO SASSY

Kelc33!

can I steal him from you

y/n replied: you already do every weekend ):

rafecam replied: dude.

Taglist

@moonssyrup @koibleufish @anamiad00msday @wearemadeofstardust0

[tonycries]

Freak On The Cam! - C.K.

Synopsis. Choso always loved watching you - his pretty lil’ camgírl - from behind the screen. Who knew he’d love being on-screen with you even more?

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, camgírl! reader, spítting, Choso has rings and piercings, first times + loss of vírginity (Choso’s), oral (fem receiving), exhíbitionism, DOWN BAD Choso, cúmplay, use of “ma’am”, Sukuna is a menace, víbrators, light jealousy (Choso’s), some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 6.5k

A/N. Meant to post this last week but hehe here we are. Also I’ve GOT to stop using Unc-kuna so much lmao.

“Wanna see a movie or do you wanna make one?”

Choso was screwed. Completely and utterly screwed. So badly, in fact, that he might as well just wipe off every trace of himself online and go into hiding - preferably forever.

All because he had been so stupidly careless as to leave his phone unattended for exactly 1 minute and 47 seconds around Sukuna. 

In the time it took Choso to raid the kitchen for his favorite brand of cereal, his uncle had managed to open his Twitter (because “that’s where all the juicy stuff is”), stalk your pretty page at the very top of his last searched, and send a god-awful pick-up line that would probably get him blocked. Or worse.

Damnit, he knew he shouldn’t have made his password Yuji’s birthday.

“Ya should be thankful I didn’t DM her myself, brat.” Sukuna chuckles, not even a shred of regret in his tone, way too amused with how Choso was frantically trying to tackle the phone out of his hands. “What’s the harm in asking? Such a pretty camgirl, n’ you look like you need some good pu-”

“She’s also my classmate.”

“Kinky. Even better.” 

No, not “even better”. God, this must be some kind of cosmic joke, and Choso just wished the Earth would swallow him up whole right now - and maybe his phone along with it too. 

It had taken him almost a whole semester to work up the courage to just sit next to you during your shared lecture. All gorgeous with your bright smiles, and your smart mouth. And Choso was very much content to admire you from afar - and from behind his phone screen, of course.

Never following, never liking. Never tipping you off as one of your hundreds of thousands of fans.

And now, not only had Sukuna revealed that he’d found your secret Twitter account - the one with those sinful little clips of yourself that had Choso opening the app way too much - he’d also propositioned you. Like some creep.  

“Ugh. This is why women hate you.” Still desperately grappling, he spits out more to himself than Sukuna at this point. “B-besides, she’s never even gonna respond any-”

Ping!

And the Itadori household had never been quieter. Never, on a random Saturday during spring break. Never, as the two men crowd the phone, jaws dropped and staring wordlessly at the singular message on screen. You. 

“Let’s make one ;)”

---

“So s’not a stream this time, jus’ a video. Is that okay?”  You hum from your desk, glancing at the man seated on your bed as he hastily nods along with whatever you said. Looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here. 

Weird. 

It had only been a few days of back and forth since you’d gotten that first text - the one that you’d honestly thought about blocking like the thousands of others. But there was just something about it that made you stop, something that had you clicking on the profile to delve a little deeper.

It hit you like a semi-truck back then - five of them, in fact - that this was someone in your class. Someone you knew. How the hell did he even find this account? 

You knew Choso as that sweet - albeit slightly gloomy - kid that sat next to you, always quick with his answers and even quicker to look away from your gaze, no matter how hard you tried to spark a conversation. You’d just guessed he was afraid of you or something.

So nothing could’ve prepared you for how ridiculously attractive he looked in that profile picture, all smug grins and dark locks falling effortlessly around his slightly smudged eyeliner. Shirtless, giving just a peak of- oh god, were those nipple piercings?  

Could you really be blamed? You just had to have him.

But, here - it was like he was just itching to run away at the first chance he got. 

“You’re not held at gunpoint, y’know.” you giggle at how he startles at the mere sound of your voice. The mattress dips as you stop fiddling with the camera to sit next to him, thighs flush against his muscled ones. “Are you sure you want-”

“Yes.” 

It seems that both of you were surprised by the abrupt response. Too quick. Choso clears his throat, cheeks flaring as he tries to dredge up some semblance of dignity, he drawls lightly. “I mean- Yes.”

You study him for a moment under the dim lighting, noting the way his hands clench and unclench in his lap, the way his chest rises and falls rapidly as he struggles to control his breathing. He was nervous. Nervous and horny - nothing quite like the suave impression his pick-up line gave off. 

But so irresistible just the same.

“Well…Cho.” you bat your lashes, voice dropping to a seductive whisper - not too heavy, for now at least. “Then why won’t you even look at me?”

Alas, Choso was not a strong man. 

Maybe at your words, maybe at that playful little nickname you gave him, he’s finally raising those dark eyes to look at you. Twinkling with- fear? anticipation? A flicker of something so dangerous as his gaze sweeps greedily over that tight dress you put on just for this occasion. 

Choso tries to ignore how sinfully it hugs all your curves. Or the way it would look a million times better on the floor. 

This was absolute torture. 

And God he thinks he could pass out right then and there as you lean in closer. Too close. The temperature in the room suddenly increasing by about 10 degrees as you purr, tone careful and balanced. “Much better. And now…” 

His breathing becomes heavier, eyes flickering downwards. Once. Twice. 

And you know you’ve got him in the palm of your hand. 

“...all you gotta do is touch me.”

Yeah, if Choso thought he was going to pass out before then he definitely wasn’t ready for those dangerous little words. Ones that have him shaken right to the core - fighting that urge to just take you how he’s imagined all those lonely nights.

“You- huh?” he lets out a shaky laugh, the sound strained as he crosses his legs with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, desperately trying to will away the blood rushing straight to his throbbing cock right now. 

But how could he? Not when you only shift closer, barely even a hair’s breadth between you two - relishing in his strangled gasp as your tits press so enticingly against his arm. Such an adorable pout playing on your lips as you mutter, “Do you not want to?”

And he did. Oh, how he did - has been imagining it for the past five months, in fact. And Choso lets you know, a little twenty times, actually, as the words spill panickedly from his lips. 

“-idiot trying to set me up and I’ve been dreaming of fucking you for so long but I’m just-” Heat rushes to Choso’s cheeks, as he abruptly shuts the fuck up. But it’s too late - the damage has been done.

You give him a wry smile, lips mere inches from his ear. “Just what?”

His breath hitches, muscles rippling so deliciously as he shudders beneath your touch. “I’m a-” Choking out - as if it physically hurts to  admit - “-virgin.”

Oh. 

Now, you might’ve expected many things - but certainly not this. Though, looking at the cute flush on the tips of his ears, all the way down to those big, needy eyes, you don’t mind. Not one bit.

With one, quick glance at the rolling camera - your mouth is moving before your mind. “Do you want me to…do something about it?”

And then it’s like something snapped. 

You don’t know who leans in first, just that Choso’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him - how could you not? 

Because goddammit it was always those pretty lips that you were staring at whenever he was spouting off answers in class. You just never expected he’d be kissing you back with such an infectious desperation. 

No sooner are you thinking about how sweet his lips are before he’s pulling away with a soft sigh, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses down your jaw. Your neck. Back to your lips like he wanted everything and anything.

You gasp licks a long, languid stripe up your neck - maybe at how utterly obscene it felt, maybe at that sharp cold feeling that makes you flinch. Fuck - a tongue piercing? The noise makes Choso’s mouth drop into a quick oh! surging forward to claim your lips again. Addicted. 

Only to be stopped by your hands cupping his face, letting out a pained grunt at how he was so close. Just a hair’s breadth away from your lips.

“Cho~ Open your mouth, baby.” you whisper, hotly. 

And he looked so pretty - dark hair askew, lower lip swollen and quivering with need, brows furrowing because he wanted more of your taste. But he obeys, of course he does, Choso thinks he’ll do anything you asked. And lo and behold, sitting right there in the middle of his tongue was a pretty silver piercing.

You just can’t help but thumb open his mouth further, looking him right in the eyes as you spit in his mouth. Once. Twice. 

“Bet no one else has done this before, huh?” Grinning at how sinfully Choso’s eyes roll to the back of his head at your taste, “Kiss me proper now.”

God, you were so good at throwing away whatever was left of his poor sanity. And it’s all that’s said before his kiss-bitten lips are crashing into yours again. 

“No. No one’s hah- done that before. Only you.” he’s panting into your open mouth, swirling his tongue with yours. “F-fuck only you. Only you only you-”

You barely even realize the way you’re on his lap now, sitting so prettily there that Choso half-deliriously wonders whether he should take a picture. Mind spinning too much with his throbbing erection under your drenched panties, a damp little patch at his fat tip. So hot and heavy already.

“Cho, do you want me to-”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You certainly don’t have to be told twice - especially with that little nickname. Fiddling with his belt, you’re so hazy with want - the need to taste Choso, to see if the rest of him was as sweet as his lips - that you almost miss the look of confusion that flashes across his face.

You bat your lashes at him almost-innocently, “You alright?” And Choso thinks he could cum right there and right now at the sight. If he wasn’t currently battling for his life, that is. 

“Yeah, s’jus’- what I wanted hah- was to…” His hands sneak down, cupping your heated pussy through your drenched panties. “-taste her. ”

“Oh?”

“Are y’gonna teach me how?”

Oh. Fuck.

You know you’re fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.

Only moments later, Choso’s wrestling you back onto the mattress, face-to-face with your sloppy pussy. So mean with the way he was pinning your hips down with one hand, all but ripping your panties off with the other. 

You feel his piercing before his tongue. Both the hot and cold so maddening on your cunt as Choso licks long, lazy stripes up your puffy folds - dragging his hot tongue all the way from your base. Just grazing your swollen clit. 

“Teach me- fuck fuck-” words muffled and slurring together, vibrations going straight to your pussy. “Use me. Use me how you want.”

You’re threading your fingers through his dark locks before you even realize it, grinding your sloppy cunt all over his waiting mouth. “Quirk your tongue like- ngh-” Angling him close enough so he bullies his soft tongue into your tight pussy. Piercing massaging all the right places. “Fuck-”

“Like this?”

“Sh-shit,” you gasp, nodding deliriously. “S’too ngh- good.”

And by God, did you mean it. 

“Yeah? Y’like this?” he’s groaning, wrapping his lips around your swollen clit. “Can feel you clenching around me. Shit shit shit, you love this, huh? So slutty on camera for it?” 

Getting wetter and wetter by the second as his tongue roams for that one-

“Oh! F-fuck, Cho. Right hngh- there. Deeper-”

Ah, found it.

Choso grins as you tug on his soft strands, you can feel it on your throbbing pussy. Pushing your legs all the way till they’re at your tits to hit that little spot each and every time. Again and again. Eyes glassy, torn between devouring that slutty expression on your face and how fucking drenched you were. 

“Shit, baby,” his words are so strained now, like his sanity was dancing away at each flick of his tongue. “You’re drooling everywhere. See? Show the camera now.”

You don’t have to look. Because you can feel it.

Can feel how wet his mouth is, just glistening with slick and saliva. Trailing all the way down his chin - to his wrist - only second to how sloppy your dripping cunt was. It was like he was getting messy on purpose, like a little reminder to himself that shit this was you and he was eating out your pretty cunt to insanity-

“Oh my god, think m’hooked.” Tongue dragging all over your swollen folds, catching on his piercing. “Think your pretty lil’ pussy’s hah- driving me crazy. Ruined me, Fuck-”

And it’s so embarrassing how he’s talking you through it, grinning at every lil’ whine and whimper that leaves your mouth. You were acting all shy right now in a way that makes Choso’s cock twitch so painfully. He barely even notices, though, with the way he was so drunk off your pussy. 

So messy - unable to decide between rolling his tongue over your ravaged clit and dipping into your sloppy hole. Too much. In and out in and-

“Faster.”

He goes faster. 

“H-harder.”

He goes harder.

Anything and everything for you - to keep those pretty moans falling from your lips, walls getting tighter and tighter around his tongue. And Choso might just consider himself a man addicted.

“Can you ngh- cum f’me, baby?” You flinch as he spits out the words into your cunt. Harsh. Fucked-out. Sounding just as delirious and breathless as you. “Cum f’me please. Wan’ to taste y’on my tongue. Please. Fuck- need it so bad. So bad.”

You’re so caught up in Choso’s pussydrunk little babbles that you barely even realize when you’re cumming. Just that you’re letting out a strangled scream of his name, dragging your sloppy pussy all over his mouth. 

And he has never seemed more blissed out. Long gone is that nervous little expression usually on his face around you, Choso looked like he could be suffocated in-between your legs right now and love it. Hope for it, even.

He tells you that, of course. As soon as you’re blinking back your vision, blood still roaring in your ears. Delicate strings of slick snapping where he parts from your quivering cunt, lips swollen and glossed so prettily with your sweet sweet juices. 

“Baby, y’think the video of lesson one came out good?”

Oh. Shit, what have you done?

---

That certainly wasn’t the last time you saw Choso - or the last time you had him in front of a camera, either.

A few weeks later, you found yourself with an entire album for the man - a hidden treasure trove under the simple name of “Cho <3”. Most of the videos favorited, all sorted so tediously in a way that showed you spent an obscene amount of time looking at all the ways he ruined you. 

So filthy on camera that you always wondered whether it was the same person in the sheets and in class, texting Choso for later. Just to confirm. 

But embarrassingly, only some of these videos made their way onto your Twitter account - with Choso’s pretty face largely out of the frame. The two of you hadn’t ventured into streams yet either, opting to hide him away. Because, okay, maybe you were slightly jealous of other people seeing him - but it was really hard not to be when he looked like that.

In spite of all that, you’d still gained a casual hundred thousand more followers since his appearance - ones who always commented on your solo streams asking where your “hot emo bf” was.

Comments you’d pointedly ignore, because, hell, you wished he was here on-stream helping you get off, too. Yet despite the endless flirting and videos, Choso actually hadn’t made it further than actually holding a full conversation with you. And you wanted more. 

For all you know, you might just be one of his many trysts - and it was just for the videos, right? You get the content, he gets the experience? A win-win situation, so why have you never felt more like such a loser?

Such a loser the way you’ve already lost count of the “lessons” but still haven’t gotten to feel him - to fuck him the way you wanted just yet. 

“S’alright if I take this, right, ma’am?” He smirks during one such session, knuckle-deep in your dripping cunt. Dangling your drenched panties like a badge of honor, flimsy and soaked with your sweet sweet juices. “S’alright if I-” And he can’t even finish the sentence. Your jaw drops as Choso raises the thin fabric to his face, breathing in your essence like a man possessed. 

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“You’re so filthy, Cho-” you manage to choke out once you find your voice. Squirming on his bed like such a slut for him. “Was the innocent thing just an act?”

“Nope.” he pops the p, licking lewd little circles on your neck, thumbing open your puffy folds to watch in amazement at the way you glisten and clamp around his fingers. Eyes flickering briefly to the recording phone in his hand. “But we gotta give ‘em a good show, huh?”

Right, you’d forgotten about the camera. But none of that matters anyway because-

Intensity setting 2.

“You’re so mean, too.”

“Am I?” he grins, teeth grazing along your racing pulse. “I think you taught that to me, baby. Shit, lesson 8 it was?”

God, he was addictive.

Choso’s having way too much fun playing around with the intensity setting of the bullet vibrator shoved inside your ravaged cunt. Sending quick, methodical vibrations all along your pulsing clit. In time with the breathless moans leaving your kiss-bitten lips, and it’s all you can to call out for- more? Mercy? Both? 

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“God, you’re so perfect. Shit, so messy f’me.” he groans, and you could tell that the video wasn’t going to be uploaded anyway. Too shaky, focusing in and out of Choso’s fingers. Knuckle-deep and pumping in and out of your filthy hole. Relentless. “Almost makes me wanna show off to an actual audience.”

“Maybe I want to, too.” you muse, shifting at his heated gaze. Dangerously pressing your thumb over those nipple piercings you’ve gotten to know so well lately - as if to support your point. God you wish he’d take off that snug shirt.

Intensity setting 3.

“That so?”

And no matter how many times Choso’s ruined you on camera - and watched the videos over and over afterwards - he always thought they weren’t enough to capture your perfection. 

“Such a slut f’me, baby.” To capture the exact moment in which your wet lips fall into a soft little oh! when he massages your walls in time with the pulsing vibrator. To capture that absolutely sinfully excited little glint in your eyes as he ruts his clothed erection against your pussy. “Y’always this dirty?” Quickly turning into a look of slight panic at the sudden jingle of keys from the front door. 

“Yo, brat. Where the fuck are ya?”

Ah, there he was, the reason that Choso usually locked his bedroom door whenever you were over, even if he was home alone. 

Intensity setting 4.

As the silence continues, so does Choso’s abuse on your cunt. In fact, he only gets more erratic - like he wanted you to cum. Needed you to cum right now, right here in front of Sukuna, footsteps only growing louder. Nearer.

“Cho-” you fight to get out the words. “He’s hah-.”

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“Can’t speak? That’s cute.” he coos, voice way too relaxed for someone whose mind was reeling with the realization that he couldn’t remember if he locked the door this time, and how adorable you sounded. Enough so that it made some raw, primal part of him wanna pull down his pants and fuck you right here right now. Cockblocks and his own virginity be damned. “C’mon now, use your words like a good girl. Tell the camera.”

Cocky bastard.

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“Close!” you yelp, unsure of whether you were talking about yourself or the looming Sukuna. Jaw slack, tears springing into your ears as you look up at Choso. “So close.”

God, you were addictive. And this video was definitely going in both your favorites.

“Mhm,” he hums, movements getting hastier. More desperate. “I know, ma’am.”

Intensity setting 5.

That’s all that it takes for you to cum, letting out a loud strangled moan of Choso’s name. Or, you would’ve - if it hadn’t been for the way he’s shoving two, thick fingers into your mouth.

Silencing you - and in your hazy brain you think that if this was his way of shutting you up, then you really didn’t mind. Because all you could taste was you and the cold, cold metal of his rings. Somewhat intoxicating.

“Shhhhhh.” he’s breathing out, still mindlessly grinding his hips into yours. Though, you realize with a pang that today won’t be the day you get to feel that achingly hard erection straining his pants. “These pretty moans aren’t for him, hm?”

Pressing on the back of your tongue, smirking at the way you nod tearily up at him, moans still muffled. Hell, do you even know how sexy you’re being right now.

“Mhm, all f’me. All for fuckin’ me.”

Knock! Knock! Knock! 

“Why the fuck are you locked up in here on a Saturday night?” Sukuna sounds impatient, but not surprised. Probably imagining all sorts of dorky things his nephew was doing to hole himself up in his room. “Come out n’ get this takeout- what’s left of it anyways.”

And with that, it’s like the magic is over.

Your high only just bating before Choso’s hurriedly ending the recording on a hazy still of your disappointed pout, cursing Sukuna for his impeccable timing. 

Slightly concerned about the door being broken down and someone else seeing you in all your fucked-out glory, he hastily moves to grab the spare cloth by his bedside. Cleaning you up with hushed promises of “sending the recording later”, and “s’alright, he’ll be gone soon.”

Close. You were so close.

A win-win situation - but you’ve never felt like more of a loser.

---

“By God, I never thought he’d get the balls to do it.”

You yelp in surprise at the deep voice from behind you, whirling with a defiant brandish of Choso’s (your?) keys. He’d given them to you a few lessons ago, saying it would make it easier for you to come and go from his apartment as you pleased. Which - to you - felt dangerously like something a boyfriend would say-

But that wasn’t important right now.

What was important was the older man suddenly towering over you right outside Choso’s front door. Big arms crossed over his chest, that leering smirk clashing with his pink hair. “I knew it was odd that brat had a pair of heels by the door.”

Shit. Sukuna.

Ryomen awfully-wingman-his-nephew Sukuna.

“Spill.” At your confused head tilt, he plows on. “Spill the tea. I need new blackmail on my lil’ nephew. How badly did he have to beg you to go out with him?”

You don’t know what was more bizarre - what he was saying or the way he actually pulls out his Notes app as if hanging on to your every word. 

“I-It’s because of you.” you manage to choke out, unsure of what Choso has told his family about you.  Eyes flitting between him and the door right behind you, sounding your very best not to sound just as guilty as you felt. “You’re the reason we have this weird…thing.”

A beat of silence passes. One. Two. 

And just as you’re beginning to wonder whether you’ve broken Choso’s infamous uncle, he throws his head back and laughs. Laughs, right in your face, sounding like he’d just heard the funniest punchline in the world. 

“Oh that’s hilarious.” he exclaims, wiping a mock tear. Cackles dying down as if he was suddenly aware that maybe Choso would hear and walk in on this impromptu interrogation. “Damn, that awful pick-up line is why you started fuckin’? I thought it’d get that sap blocked so he’d stop stalking your account so much.”

“No, we…” you hesitate, mind reeling with what Sukuna just admitted, and how bad it would really be that you’re divulging your sex life to a relative of the guy you’re fucking. Before thinking fuck it, might as well confide in someone. “...we’re just doing stuff for-” putting up air quotes. “-content.”

“Just content?”

“Just content.”

“And you like that fool?”

Your face burns at how glaringly obvious it apparently was, “...Yes.”

This seemingly sets Sukuna off on another wave of uncontrollable laughter. “Ohh, thanks for the blackmail on that emotionally-constipated brat.” Typing away on what you assume to be his Notes, he promptly turns to walk away, “See ya around, doll.”

“Wait!” you call after in confusion, making him stop and raise a brow. “Aren’t you supposed to like- I don’t know, give me advice for your nephew or something - like a good uncle?”

Scoffing, “Who said I was a good uncle?” He leans in ever-so-slightly, “Jus’ rock his world on camera or somethin’ n’ ask him out right in the middle.” Satisfied with being enough of a decent samaritan for today, he walks back with a half-wave, “He’d listen to whatever you say anyway.”

Oh. Is that so?

And Sukuna probably meant it as some joke. Something to tease the both of you with - but it’s something that sets the gears going off inside your head. Something that had you ignoring Sukuna’s slightly panicked, “Jus’ not too soon, I needa bully him with this first.”

---

You didn’t listen to Sukuna’s little plea, of course. Because only a few days later you’d steeled yourself to finally send that one text you knew would change your relationship with Choso. For the good, hopefully. 

You: 9pm my place. Get ready, cuz this time we’re gonna be live ;)

Cho <3: :0 

And with that, you’d thrown your phone on the bed, jittery about later tonight. Browsing through your wardrobe for that one set of barely-there lingerie in his favorite shade of pink. Hey, you could never be too prepared, right?

Nothing could’ve prepared Choso for this moment - absolutely nothing at all. 

He might’ve just died and gone to heaven the very moment he read that dangerous text - finally inviting him to join one of your streams. The ones that he’d always watch in the safety of his bedroom, lights dimmed, pants bunched around his ankles. 

Cock just achingly hard in his fist while he wished he was with you behind the camera. Getting you off so much better than any sextoy would. Just forcing those pretty moans from your lips - and everyone else could see that. Wish it was them ruining you instead. 

Alas, it was only a dirty little fantasy. 

Until now, that is.

slvt4u: Holy shit boyfriend reveal, about time.

uniwhore: THIS is the hottie from Twitter????? 

itsgenslut: idfc just fuck

“Nervous?” you smirk, looking down at the man sprawled so prettily on your bed. “You look just as close to an aneurysm as you were the first time. Though-” snaking your hand down, “-this is still the same as ever.”

You chuckle at the way Choso catches your lips with his, more to shut up those pathetic little moans threatening to escape him than anything. Because every glance at you in that sinful little pink bra gave Choso a mini heart attack. 

“B-baby-” he gasps, grinding his clothed erection against your palms. “I wan- hah-”

“Mhm?”

And God how you’ve ruined Choso - run him so utterly dry of his sanity.

Because he’s angling your head down, piercing cold against your tongue. “Spit.”

It was like that first time had gotten him addicted. So you do - right into his waiting mouth. Jaw dropping at the way he tips his head back, back, back to let it slide so obscenely down his throat. Moaning at just a taste of you, “God, I need to f-fucking ruin you.”

And if there’s anything you’ve learned after all these months with Choso, it’s that anything he says - he does.

The words have barely left his mouth before he’s pulling your bra off, ripping your panties easily off your hips. Each and every little regret about what a shame it was thrown out the window at the first sight of your pretty pussy. 

It never gets old - and Choso could never get enough of the sinful sight - your cunt so sloppy and ready for him already. 

“Cho-” you whine as ringed fingertips coming up to circle your sloppy entrance. Cold. Stretching you to insanity. “S-stop teasing.”

“Yes, ma’am. But first-” shifting you around ever-so-slightly on top of him. “Gotta show off how wet y’are f’me.”

uniwhore: did he just call her “ma’am”?? Me when??

roses101: idk who i wanna be they’re both so fucking hot ugh

“Fuck, y’look so sexy from this angle. Wonder if the camera thinks so too?”

Your face slightly burns at how he was seemingly taking over your own stream. Smug bastard, you think, glancing down at Choso, red-faced, hair untied, wearing a sly grin as his eyes slide over the flurry of comments. But two can play that game. 

“Cho~” fumbling with the hem of his underwear, “You’ve been holding out on me.”

A gasp leaves you involuntarily as you tug down Choso’s boxers just enough for his throbbing cock to spring free, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Blushed your favorite shade of pink - to match your bra - so so angry and soaked in precum. 

He was so intimidatingly long - longer than any of those toys you usually brought on camera. Thick enough that it had you wondering, shit, would you even be able to take it?

“S’this a-alright?” and for all his previous confidence, Choso sounded self-conscious. Peeking at you through his long lashes.

You grin, pumping a hand up and down his swollen cock, letting his precum drip down your wrist. “S’perfect.”

“God- fuck, baby. Oh-” Choso lets out breathless little profanities as you straddle his waist, dragging his weeping tip down your swollen folds. So fucking filthy as you sink down in by fucking in. Slowly. “Too- much-”

Apparently too slow because no sooner have you just taken in his fat tip, squeezing and clenching around him, that Choso’s flipping the both of you over. 

“M’sorry.” he breathes into your mouth as your back hits the mattress. “M’sorry m’sorry, fuck- just can’t-” fingers immediately drawing frenzied little circles on your pulsing clit to take your mind off the dizzying stretch as he bullies his massive cock into your snug cunt. “Can’t wait can’t wait- waited too fucking long. Want this so badly-”

You felt too good. Too perfect around him. 

“Ah! Hngh- Cho, oh my god. Too- ngh-” you moan, as he starts grinding in shallow, mindless little movements just to fit himself inside. Pushing and pushing, you wondered if he even realized what he was doing.

Sounding like his sanity was dwindling away with each little thrust, “S’too big? You can take it. Fuck fuck fuck please. Need this.” Pressing all the way into your lungs. “How do you wan’ it- how do you wan’ me?”

Honestly, Choso didn’t even need to ask, because he just bottoms out - heavy balls smacking against your ass, cock swollen and throbbing inside you - that you think that you just wanted him to ruin you. 

“R-ruin?” his voice breaks as he repeats - more to himself than you. Oh, shit had you said that out loud? You’re speechless as Choso throws your legs over his shoulder, dragging his swollen lips lazily across your ankle. “Yes ma’am.”

Oh. You might as well have just signed off your will. 

Because then he’s fucking into your sloppy cunt. Unforgiving. A man starved because he was. Jagged, quick thrusts, splitting you apart deeper and deeper on his rock-hard cock. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck-” he pants into your open mouth, finding it so fucking difficult to find any rhythm when your tight cunt was milking him so good. “You feel so good. So messy. Ya love it like this, huh? Being hngh- watched?”

“Hngh-” you buck wildly into his body, reaching up to play coyly with his nipple piercings. Tugging and pulling lightly. “Feels too good- are- ah- are ya sure this is your first time?”

Honestly, it was a wonder Choso didn’t cum right then and there. 

Tojisslvt: need someone to fuck me like this the first time

22sabi: Typing with one hand is so hard.

DaStrongest: i could fuck her so much better than than inexperienced loser

Choso throws his head back in a cruel little laugh at that last comment, something that makes you tingle all the way from your burning cheeks to your stuffed cunt. Clamping down deliciously on Choso’s unforgiving cock in a way that makes his hips and fingers stutter. 

“Ya think you could fuck her better?” it takes you a second to realize he was talking to the camera and not you. Thrusts getting sloppier, getting familiar. “I’m the one that got her so messy like this.” Purposeful. Calculated. Like he was aiming for that one-

“Fuck!” you scream as he hits that magic spot. Once. And then over and over like a man possessed. Just so utterly ruining you the way you knew he could. “Cho oh my god- I can’t hah- ngh-”

The cold metal of Choso’s rings dig into your cheek softly as he turns you head to face him. God, this was the stuff of his wildest dreams.

You - teary eyed and looking up at him like such a slut. Pussy getting wetter - tighter - as he teases you in front of the camera. Torn between running away from his relentless cock and bucking up for more more more-

 “Fuck no no no- Keep your legs open, baby. Don’t hah- run away from me.” his fingers dig into your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. “Don’t- need this. Need this so ba- shit.” 

And he sounded so genuinely worried he’d lose the feeling of your heady cunt. Fingers bruising on your hips as he pulls you closer. Like he was trying to fuck out any and every shred of shyness out of your body. 

slvt4u: Always the quiet ones.

DaStrongest: heh, fuck off. i’d make her cum so much harder.

Now, Choso was fucking you like he had a point to prove, and it was probably the only reason he hadn’t passed out from how good your pussy felt wrapped around him. 

Both of you were barely-lucid at this point - and he was out of control now.

Pussy drunk thoughts unfiltered, “No one’s ever d-done this- got me hah- feeling like this.” And you had the distinct feeling he just beat you to your original goal, letting out sweet little babbles into your open mouth - though his hips were anything but. 

So hard that you were sure the creases of your sheets would leave marks for tomorrow - along with his balls on your ass, your ankles on his shoulders, lips searing against yours. It was like he wanted to prove something - to prove he was good enough to- the viewers? To you? 

Knowing your body well enough to hit that one spot over and over until you were sobbing. Fingers erratic on your clit. 

“Cho-” you squeal, tears springing to your eyes as he only gets sloppier. “I-I’m gonna-”

“Cum?” he breathes, as if he couldn’t believe it. And fuck if you weren’t the gates of heaven spread wide open for him then he didn’t know what was. “Fucking cum. Please please- hah- f’me. Cum on m’cock n’ make them jealous. F’me- Like you’re mine.”

You barely even realize when you are. Jaw slack, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you see stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. God, he was gonna have to go home and rewatch this stream all over again. 

“Ngh- m’cumming m’cumming oh-”

Not even realizing the way you’re dragging your nails down Choso’s sculpted back. Marking up his milky skin - and he lets you. 

Loved it in fact- the way he loved you. 

Your eyes go wide, and Choso knows he’s fucked up. Realizing with a jolt that words were tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. But it’s the way you squeeze him tighter- giving him such a gorgeous little fucked-out smile that sends him over the edge.

Sharp canines digging into the crook of your neck like he wanted to break skin, holding himself back from breaking you while he cums and cums so hard it hurt. Over and over-

“Love you- love you love you love you-” he’s muttering into the skin, unbarred. “Since I first saw hah- you. Wanted this more than fuck fuck- air that I breathe.”

His seed was oozing out of you now, painting your ravaged pussy white, dribbling down your legs.  So fucking full and debauched. Thick, hot globs that were sure to stain those overpriced new sheets. But did Choso care for the mess? Not at all. 

Because you were holding him so impossibly tight, pushing away the strands of hair sticking to his forehead. Whispering little praises as he fucks you through his first time. Close. Warm. Everything he ever dreamed of.

“S’everything I ever dreamed of, too, Cho.”

And he knows he’s won. 

urfavslvt: Proudest nut. Want more.

uniwhore: does this mean couples content??? Pls say yes plsplspls

DaStrongest: invite me next time <3

“Thought you were embarrassed.” he licks soothingly over the bite. Voice shot, piercing smooth against his tongue. Embarrassing little confessions leaving him with each spark of electricity running through his veins. “Thought you didn’t stream w’me cuz of that- but shit. Dreamed of this f’so long. So long-”

Oh?

“Hey, Cho.” your voice rings through his hazy mind. Just enough for Choso to raise his head and meet your intoxicating, sultry gaze. Giving a sly, sidelong glance at the still-blinking camera. 

“Mhm?”

“Wanna film a week’s worth of ‘movies’ in advance?”

---

Sukuna (do not answer): Oi shitty nephew, where r u Jin made me come over with (half) leftovers.

You: Sorry, not home. At the movies rn.

Sukuna (do not answer): When tf do u go to movies?? 

You: Since now, on a date. You probably can’t relate.

Sukuna (do not answer): Stfu n’ stop lying, a date with who? Ur body pillow?? Not like u had the balls to ask out that pretty lil’ camgirl anyway.

Haha

Right? 

You: *girlfriend

Sukuna (do not answer): Huh?

You: Girlfriend.

Sukuna (do not answer): THE FUCKIN’ PICK-UP LINE WORKED??

A/N. This came out a LOT longer than expected. 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[louisa-gc]

how to start reading again

from someone who was a voracious reader until high school and is now getting back into it in her twenties.

start with an old favourite. even though it felt a little silly, i re-read the harry potter series one christmas and it wiped away my worry that i wasn't capable of reading anymore. they are long books, but i was still able to get completely immersed and to read just as fast as i had years and years ago.

don't be afraid of "easier" books. before high school i was reading the french existentialists, but when getting back into reading, i picked up lucinda riley and sally rooney. not my favourite authors by far, but easier to read while not being totally terrible. i needed to remind myself that only choosing classics would not make me a better or smarter person. if a book requires a slower pace of reading to be understood, it's easier to just drop it, which is exactly what i wanted to avoid at first.

go for essays and short stories. no need to explain this one: the shorter the whole, the less daunting it is. i definitely avoided all books over 350 pages at first and stuck to essay collections until i suddenly devoured donna tartt's goldfinch.

remember it's okay not to finish. i was one of those people who finished every book they started, but not anymore! if i pick up a book at the library and after a few chapters realise i'd rather not read it, i just return it. (another good reason to use your local library! no money spent on books you might end up disliking.)

analyse — or don't. some people enjoy reading more when they take notes or really stop to think about the contents. for me, at first, it was more important to build the habit of reading, and the thought of analysing what i read felt daunting. once i let go of that expectation, i realised i naturally analyse and process what i read anyway.

read when you would usually use your phone. just as i did when i was a child, i try to read when eating, in the bathroom, on public transport, right before sleeping. i even read when i walk, because that's normally a time i stare at my screen anyway. those few pages you read when you brush your teeth and wait for a friend very quickly stack up.

finish the chapter. if you have time, try to finish the part you're reading before closing the book. usually i find i actually don't want to stop reading once i get to the end of a chapter — and if i do, it feels like a good place to pick up again later.

try different languages. i was quickly approaching a reading slump towards the end of my exchange year, until i realised i had only had access to books in english and that, despite my fluency, i was tired of the language. so as soon as i got back home i started picking up books in my native tongue, which made reading feel much easier and more fun again! after some nine months, i'm starting to read in english again without it feeling like a huge task.

forget what's popular. i thought social media would be a fun way to find interesting books to read, but i quickly grew frustrated after hating every single book i picked up on some influencer's recommendation. it's certainly more time-consuming to find new books on your own, but this way i don't despise every novel i pick up.

remember it isn't about quantity. the online book community's endless posts about reading 150 books each year or 6 books in a single day easily make us feel like we're slow, bad readers, but here's the thing: it does not matter at all how many books you read or what your reading pace is. we all lead different lives, just be proud of yourself for reading at all!

stop stressing about it. we all know why reading is important, and since the pandemic reading has become an even more popular hobby than it was before (which is wonderful!). however, there's no need to force yourself to be "a reader". pick up a book every now and then and keep reading if you enjoy it, but not reading regularly doesn't make you any less of a good person. i find the pressure to become "a person who reads" or to rediscover my inner bookworm only distances me from the very act of reading.

[itsrlymine]

stop calling your desires "desires" when they are a part of your everyday life.

literally stop. seriously. do you desire the skill to read this post or can you just read what i'm typing? do you desire the skill to be able to spell words in your first language or can you just spell? okay so then what's up with all the emphasis on your "desires"? i don't call anything i want to manifest a desire. why? because I have it already so wtf am I desiring? I don't think about things i want to manifest as "things I want to manifest." i think about them as mine, here and now. why? because it's literally here in my face staring me in my eyeballs.

I even hate calling them that when at the end of the day, they are just you. just you experiencing more you yet you put so much separation between you and that which you cannot even be separate from.

stop calling your sp your "sp" and call them by what they actually are. stop calling your circumstances "circumstances" when they don't f*cking exist. stop calling your desires "desires" when they are a regular part of your life. i'm pretty sure you don't call a pencil you've had for 3 weeks a desire of yours anymore. why? because you are already used to it and you just call it for what it is. a pencil. so what is the difference with anything else now????

"oh i just wanted to talk about my sp and how i want him to be more-"

i thought that was your man? so what is an sp?

" i want to move rn but i don't have the money, i don't know where i want to stay and my circumstances are just getting so overwhel-"

.... you moved out already and wtf are circumstances? i've never heard that word before.

"i just want to be certain i got the job but i haven't heard anything back in-"

babe.... the job is yours. what the h*ll are you talking about?

you never had to use this verbiage before you "learned" about manifesting so why must you now? acknowledge what is true and stop feeding into b*llshit. pls.

[sistertotheknowitall]

Danny is Some Guy with a not so secret admirer.

Part four? Post #four? I don’t know, none of these are exactly in order. Post one, post two, post three.

——

By the time Tim opened the door, Danny had his coffee made and handed to Mia at the register. He resolutely ignored her smug face and went back to making the other orders.

Tim had been a regular long before Danny had started at the coffee shop but it was three days into Danny’s third week when Tim had stumbled in at eight a.m. and did a double take upon seeing Danny. A very obvious double take followed by intense staring before Mia had cleared her throat. The blush that lit up Tim’s face was only rivaled by the one on Danny’s.

He had never had anyone openly stare at him before.

Mia had been insufferable ever since.

It also didn’t help that shortly after their first meeting Tim had started taking his breaks at the little coffee shop. It’s been three weeks, nearly a month and Wayne Enterprise’s CEO went from a bi-weekly regular to an everyday one. (Danny wondered if he should be concerned for the man’s caffeine intake but he only had the one cup every time so probably not.)

Originally, Danny had no plans to talk to Tim. It seemed obvious the guy had a crush on Danny if the constant looks over his laptop were anything to go by and Danny didn’t want to encourage it. Danny barely had time to make new friends let alone start a relationship.

There was also the added problem of what was quickly becoming his bat stalkers. How do you explain to someone that you were being watched by Gotham’s vigilante’s for no reason? (Or worse because he had made a poorly timed sleep-deprived comment.) Danny didn’t think you could without seeming suspicious.

Incidentally though, Danny’s plan went out the window when on a slow afternoon as he was cleaning tables and passed behind Tim. Once he saw the article the other man was reading he snorted.

Bruce Wayne and The Batman? Could This Be A New Romance For Gothams Most Beloved Billionaire?

It was one of those gossip rags that printed things like: Elvis: alive and well and Superman: a mild mannered farm boy? It was all nonsense.

Danny asked Tim why he bothered with the site and Tim responded that he found it amusing to read and that his family had a group chat where they sent the articles to each other.

“Okay. But Batman? Really? Your dad could do so much better.”

“You don’t like Batman?” Tim asked. Danny had slid into the chair next to him and shrugged. “I respect what he does but for as intimidating as he is, he also seems a little silly.”

Tim had given him an incredulous look and Danny hadn’t given him time to ask for an explanation, “and his kids can be just as rude. Like that flying monkey one.” Tim choked on air and Danny politely waited for him to calm down. “Kids? Wait - flying monkey one? Which one -?”

“The one always doing back flips with the blue bird symbol. He’s also a dick that gives hypocritical lectures about fighting.” Danny wouldn’t say he hated the guy but he wasn’t sure how many more lectures he could endure before going ghost and fighting him.

Tim had turned to Danny completely and was watching him with a look of disbelief, “you mean Nightwing?”

“Is that his name? Imma call him Dickwing.”

Tim had started choking again, this time Danny patted his back hoping to help. Yet it was all for not once he kept talking, “I think I’ve only had positive interactions with the one who looks like a walking red flag.”

“Red flag? Do you men hood-?”

“No, although he is definitely a red flag, I mean the other Red one. I’m sorry, I don’t know all these peoples names yet.”

“Danny!” Mia called.

Danny stood and patted Tim, who looked a little shell-shocked, on the shoulder. “Well work calls, see you later Mr. Drake-Wayne.” As he walked away he heard Tim mutter “it’s just Tim.”

(Tim for his part, placed his head in his hands and thought, well at least I have his name now.)

After that first interaction Tim stopped playing the lurker and started to actually talk to Danny and vise versa. Danny never asked if he still had a crush on him, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Unfortunately, their growing friendship had only encoraged Mia as she happily sang “your boyfriend’s here!”

Danny, very maturely, did not stick his tongue out at her. He did however flip her off under the counter like an adult.

[youreverydayfangirl]

DANCING WITH OUR HANDS TIED

pairing: max verstappen x singer reader

summary: the one where new rumors begin, secrets start to be revealed and they never stop loving each other

warning: online hate, mentions of cheating

a/n: after two months its finally here for you guys

face claim: sabrina carpenter (just had to because shes gorgeous)

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seen by yourusername, exbsf and 4, 583, 586 others

yourusername lando as much as i appreciate you trying to do things right

yourusername the damage has already been done ive moved on

landonorris well i havent y/n

landonorris everything that happened is shit

landonorris you never did anything wrong and i let our four year relationship go to waste

landonorris both of us deserve better than that

yourusername i know

exbsf are you fucking kidding me lando

exbsf after all this bullshit your threatening me???

this user has been blocked

Things are heating up between Lando Norris and Ex Bsf after their sudden split

After Landos instagram story on Thursday ExBsf has since come to social media, talking about how she was blind sided by the break up and then further went to discuss how boundaries are important in a relationship and how allegedly Norris has been in contact with his ex girlfriend Y/n L/n and they have been seeing each other behind her back.

CLICK HERE TO READ MORE!

y/nsprivate has posted

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y/nsprivate wtf is happening guys

thatoneartgirlalex KARMA IS WHATS HAPPENING

-> y/nsprivate FOR REAL THO

keekslikestospammmm BYE BYE BITCH

-> y/nsprivate KEEKS 😭

jimmyandsassysdad everything worked out just how it should've 🖤

-> y/nsprivate I LOVE YOU 🖤

-------

Y/n couldn't believe it, she just stared at her phone in shock. She had been scrolling absentmindedly through her phone when she saw it. The post. Everything had been coming to head for a while and she knew it, but to see the words written out in front of her? She didn't know what to do.

Exbsf had caused her so much pain and now? It seemed karma was catching up to her. It should've felt good. It should habe been validating. But instead, it was just old wounds reopening.

"Liefde?" Max's comforting voice rang out.

She didn't realise that Max had entered the room. His voice was soft, laced with concern. She gave him a small smile as he crouched infront of her, grabbing her hands to give them a kiss.

"Hey, whats wrong?" He murmured as he brushed a strand of her hair back.

She couldn't get the words out, instead she grabbed her phone and handed it to him. Max took one glance at the screen, his jaw tightening as he pieced it together.

“Y/n…” His voice softened even more as he put the phone down and turned his full attention to her. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

Tears blurred her vision, and before she could stop herself, they spilled over and she hid herself in her hands as they wrecked her body.

Her eyes met his, glassy and red rimmed. “I don’t know why I’m crying,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “I should feel relieved, but instead, it just… hurts. It’s like everything she did is coming back all at once.”

Max nodded, his gaze understanding. “Because you cared about her. You gave them a part of yourself, and they threw it away. That kind of hurt doesn’t just disappear, all I can do is promise you that I'm not going anywhere Mijn liefje.”

He pulled her close, holding her against his chest. He didn’t say anything more, just rested his chin on top of her head and rubbed gentle circles on her back. His steady heartbeat was a grounding rhythm, and slowly, the sobs subsided into quiet sniffles.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice muffled against his chest.

Max pulled back just enough to look at her, brushing a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “You don’t have to thank me. I’ll always be here, Y/n. No matter what.”

------

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exbsf cause I know that you'll never feel sorry

oliviarodrigo hey! so never use my song again 😃

-> exbsf get out of my insta weirdo

-> sabrinacarpenter LIV 😭

-> oliviarodrigo what?

-> user1 HELP I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

user2 is that not y/ns sweater

user3 using livs song is WILD

landonorris has posted a story

-----------

Y/n quietly hummed to herself and she took in the view infront of her. The sun was dipping low on the horizon, painting the ocean in hues of gold and pink as the yacht gently swayed on the calm waves. She took a sip of champagne, waiting patiently for Max as he had set up a picnic for them. The soft sound of the waves was the only noise around, making Y/n feel a kind of calm she had never felt before.

“Y/n,” Max’s voice called softly from behind her, and she turned to see him standing a few feet away, his hands tucked nervously into his pockets.

She smiled, tilting her head. “What’s with the serious face? You’re usually the calm one between us.”

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, well, even I get nervous sometimes, come here.” He pulled her up and hugged her, swaying for a moment before pulling back. Before she could respond, he closed the gap between them, taking her hands in his. The warmth in his gaze was almost overwhelming, and her heart began to race.

“I’ve been thinking about this moment for a long time, and I know its soon but it feels so right,” he started, his thumbs gently brushing over her knuckles. “And no matter how much I planned it, I don’t think I could ever put into words how much you mean to me.”

“You’ve been my anchor, my safe place, and my biggest adventure all at once. Every day with you feels like a gift, Y/n. And I want that for the rest of my life.” He let go of one of her hands, reaching into his pocket to pull out a small navy velvet box. Slowly, he got down on one knee, opening it to reveal a ring, the diamond on it sparkling from the last light of the setting sun.

“Y/n, will you marry me?”

Tears filled her eyes as she covered her mouth with one hand, overwhelmed by the moment. The love in his voice, the sincerity in his eyes, it was everything she had ever dreamed of.

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice breaking. Then louder, with a laugh bubbling out, she repeated, “Yes!” She then leaned forward to embrace him in a hug, the pair kneeling as Maxs heart thumped.

Y/n leant to kiss him, Max meeting her halfway. Once they pulled back they heard a loud cheer.

Y/n spun around to see her four closest friends standing further away from them, Kika and Alex both crying, although Alex was comforting Charles at the same time.

“How did you?!” Y/n started, looking between Max and their friends.

Max shrugged with a sheepish smile. “I might’ve had a little help setting this up.”

Kika rushed over to hug Y/n, tears in her eyes. “We wouldn’t miss this moment for the world!”

Charles handed Max a champagne bottle, clapping him on the back. “About time, mate.”

Pierre grinned as he popped the first confetti popper. “We’ve been holding our breath in there for so long, but it was worth it!”

The night turned into an impromptu celebration, the five of them toasting under the stars. Y/n couldn’t stop smiling, her hand never leaving Max’s. And as she looked around at her friends, laughing and cheering for her and Max, she couldn’t imagine a more perfect beginning to the rest of their lives together.

------------

Y/n L/n is Back

After over a year of radio silence, popstar Y/n L/n has posted again, signaling a new album.

CLICK HERE TO READ MORE!

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OMG ANOTHER POST?????

i feel like i need to feed you guys, i'll start working on the next part soon

also felt like this was a good length one for yous

anyways a question for you. my main focus is finishing this series and then i'll give you the charles series but would anyone be interested in a lando spinoss series/imagine. i feel like man deserves a break omg.

anyway lmk xx

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[irndad]

a/n: continuation to this, but you don't necessarily have to read it first! all you need to know is reader got shot protecting maeve, and both survived. spencer has been in love with her the entire time.

“Have you called Maeve?” 

She asks it on a beautiful, rainy day, about five weeks after the event in question. She’s a little too nonchalant about the whole thing, has been from the start- Spencer’s been correcting for that. He’s been treating her like something fragile, a beautiful glass figure that was almost shattered. This is something he knows irritates her, but how can he not?

He tries not to think of it, but the memory of her in a hospital bed, bandages over her abdomen, the wooziness of giving her blood. He can’t help his caution, now. People assume, quite often that Spencer was unaware of the fact he’s in love with his best friend. Like it was something he didn’t know, didn’t have to live with. 

Spencer can be oblivious about a lot of things, but being in love with the person he’s shared a desk with for 4 years is not among them. 

“No,” he replies, looking up at her as she sits down, handing him the cup of tea she made him. They’re at his apartment. She’s been cleared for desk work, but Spencer had been nervous about the whole thing. They’ve fallen into a rhythm of her going to his apartment after work, and for how determined he is to tell her how he feels, he’s not really able to pluck up the courage.

“Spence,” she sighs, “You have to call her.”

“I did! When it happened, I called her. We talked. We just don’t talk anymore.”

She furrows her brow in an adorable way, and Spencer’s heart threatens to fall out of his chest. He’s been playing a game of she loves me, she loves me not in his mind for the. Past few weeks. 

Took a bullet to see me happy. She loves me. 

She stirs her ceramic spoon, the clink of it against the mug fills the silence. She bites her lip, clearly disappointed with his response. 

Wants me to call my not but kind-of ex. She loves me not.

She’s wearing this blue floral dress, and he is trying not to stare at where the fabric has ridden up, kissing the skin above her knee. She’s got lipstick on, and he tries not to read into how she’s sitting so close to him. Except he is kind of reading into it. 

Before she got hurt, he had tried to shove this feeling down- tried to ignore the swoop of his stomach when she walked by, or when she gave him a compliment, or when she let him do a card trick for her. He tried to shove down how much he fucking hated it the one time she had a date pick her up at the office. 

She’s just easy to be in love with. She writes little smiley faces on post-it notes and leaves them on his desk, and when the whole Emily thing had gone down, she’d spent weeks taking care of him through her own grief. 

She’s sitting on his couch. Five weeks ago, she was half-dead in a hospital bed, and now she is on his couch, in a beautiful dress after returning from the job they both share. 

He does not want to call Maeve. 

The comfortable silence turns tense as the episode of Doctor Who plays in the background, and he’s still a little gunshy- she’s breathing, she’s okay. He feels creepy, but he lets his eyes close for a moment so he can hear the sound of her breath, to know it’s still there.

“Spencer,” she says, after she pauses the show, and he turns fully to face her, “I am okay.” She grabs his hand, and he takes a couple of seconds to process the touch as she places it over her own wrist. ‘I am fine. They fixed me up. You are allowed to stop worrying.”

Her tone is even, but intentional. She’s giving him permission, as if his presence is some guilt-driven notion that’s stopping him from getting what he really wants. It’s true, though, that he doesn’t always believe she’s okay. Notices how she’ll wince when she bends a certain way, and the scar by her eyebrow is healing well, but he still searches for it in her face.

He savors the feeling of the soft skin of her wrist under his touch, running his fingers over the junction of her hand and wrist with delicate affection. How she hasn’t figured out he’s in love with her is anyone’s guess. 

He wonders what it would feel like to kiss her there.

“I know I can call her,” he manages to say back, meeting her warm gaze in a maybe too honestly in love glance, “I’m where I want to be.”

“Before I got hurt, you picked out an outfit, you asked for advice on dating, Spencer. You did that. I just-“ she sighs, moving her hand from his grasp and pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration, “The piece of you that wanted that is obviously still there. You don’t have to spend a Friday night with me in your apartment because you feel guilty that I got shot.”

“You’re not here because I’m guilty-“

“Then why-“

“You’re in my apartment right now because I am in love with you, and if you’re out of my sight for more than twelve hours than it’s like I forget that you’re still alive. That you didn’t get yourself killed before I ever got the chance to actually tell you.”

He’s not yelling. Well, he’s kind of yelling. Talking loudly, anyway. Her eyes widened and he’s hyperaware of how close she already was, is. She smells like lilies and her, and it’s all so present. She could have died. She might have never heard it. 

She’s heard it now, he supposes. All the weeks of agonizing, notebooks he’s managed to fill in the last few weeks trying to figure out a way to say it to her that could charm her into loving him back- all gone. He’s told her, now. 

All the cards are in her hands.

Her doe eyes almost sparkle at him, her head tipped to the side in a fond, loving gesture, and he wants to kiss her, wants to feel her faded-lipstick pout against his mouth. He wants his I love you to turn into I can have this. 

“Spence,” her voice is a trembling, insecure thing. One half of his mind wants to rage at him- there’s no way she’s going to tell him she loves him back, that someone like her could ever want someone like him. But the other half, one that seems dangerously like hope- she took a bullet for him. She didn’t even think twice. “You’re in love with me?”

It’s like it’s not even him who replies. Some bitter thing takes over his voice and speaks for him. 

“How could I not be? It’s you.”

It’s then he notices, that oh, she’s tearing up. 

A beat passes, and Spencer sucks in a deep breath before rambling an absurd amount. 

“You don’t have to- We can still be friends, obviously, you know that. But we can, I just- I needed to tell you because when you were in that hospital bed and you’d never heard me say it, I just couldn’t live with you never knowing. But now you do, and you don’t feel the same, and that’s okay-“

He doesn’t get to keep talking, because she grabs him by the collar of his shirt and kisses him. She’s warm and beautiful and her hair brushes up against his cheek and there’s something in him that takes over when he moves to  cradle her head between his hands, both desperate to keep her in his grasp and savor the moments he gets to hold her. She tastes like cherry chapstick and something completely undefinable. 

When she pulls away after a moment that feels entirely too short, heavy lidded eyes meeting his in affection, and Spencer thinks he’d like to do that for the rest of his life. 

“I love you too,” she says back, and he commits it to memory, the sound of her so-sweet voice wrapping around the words he’s fantasized about hearing since the first time she smiled at his joke about philosophy. “I’ve loved you a really, really long time, Spence. I just thought I lost my chance, you know with- with everything. I never really thought I had one.”

He can’t even speak, really. He doesn’t think he can wrap his head around the fact that she felt like he wouldn’t like her back. 

It doesn’t feel like a concern, now, when he leans in to kiss her again. She smiles into him, and Spencer memorizes the feel of her waist encircled in his arms, when he realizes that this is the heart he is able to hold without limits. 

She loves me too, he thinks. She is safe, she is okay, and she loves me back. 

On the following Monday, when Morgan sees the two of them with linked hands before Hotch gets to the office, he doesn’t say anything. 

He does hand Emily 20 dollars, though. 

[feyascorner]

before my nails dig

summary. in which one of Astarion's especially vivid nightmares results in him waking up to Tav at the mercy of his own hands...and the shame that comes with it.

warnings. angst, fluff, comfort

pairing. Astarion x GN!reader

a/n. someone pls get this man therapy that's all i ask,,, also this takes place sometime during act 3 before you confront cazador!! first post too so pls forgive typos

Had breathing always been this hard?

It's not like he had to breathe anyway. The undead have more perks than one would think, and having no need for air was one that became particularly useful in unexpected ways. Yet as he stands in Cazador's dungeon again--a place he longs to rid from the darkest corners of his mind--all he can do is stumble over his own breath, crimson eyes darting around frantically in search of an exit.

And suddenly, his siblings are at the mercy of the ascension, floating helplessly in the chains of a red aura--Cazador's aura. Despite the chaos, Astarion's eyes narrow in on the one pedestal with no occupant, and he realizes it's his own designated place.

It's getting harder to breathe now.

A breath creeps up behind his shoulder, sending pure dread throughout his entire body as he hears Cazador's voice far too close than he ever wanted it to be.

"Wake up, child. This is all you've ever been meant for."

Astarion whips around and lunges at the man, his hands wrapping viciously around the throat he's fantasized about ripping apart for the past two hundred years. His nails dig into the flesh of the vampire lord's neck, leaving indents in the shape of crescent moons, just enough to cause panic but not enough to draw blood. But Cazador only cackles, his eyes staring right into Astarion's as he hollers over and over again.

"Wake up."

"Wake up!"

"--Astarion!"

The spawn's eyes snap open, recognition finally flooding his expression as he finds himself staring down at you. The very face he sees in the softest of dreams, the lips he longs to kiss at every waking moment, and the eyes that gaze at him with the love and adoration he's been missing for most of his wretched eternal life. Though he'd never admit it, you saved him. From the moment he'd threatened your life at the nautiloid crash to the moment he held you close to his chest in the confines of his tent, he would be by your side until you tired of him and threw him away.

All he wanted--all he could wish for--was only a fraction of it in return. And you'd given him that, and so much more.

But now, you're scared. Terrified, even. Of him.

With horror, he realizes his fingers are digging into your throat. Your precious, tender throat that you offer him not for something in return, but simply because you care for him.

All at once as he tears his hands away, he wants to cut them off and bury himself in his own grave again. He doesn't meet your eyes, afraid of what disgust might be held in them, but he knows you're too kind for that. Too kind to see the kind of monster he is.

You're gasping for your breath, and his stomach knots in a way that would have sent him hurling if it weren't for the fact that he's too occupied drinking in what he's done. To you.

"I'm okay, I'm okay, Astarion," you choke out, perching on both your elbows as you struggle to recover. Even now, all you seem to care about is him. He almost hates you for it--hates you for not stabbing a stake through his heart the moment his hands met your neck. "Astarion-"

"Your throat," he croaks, despising the slight crack of his voice as he reaches for your cheek, but stops before he even gets close. He doesn't trust himself to open his mouth again.

"It's okay, really, I can just get Shadowheart to heal me," you shake your head, and he finds himself in disbelief as you crawl toward him, tossing the sheets to the side. He shifts the slightest away and you understand, immediately sitting back down. You look like you want to say something, but you close your mouth and watch him patiently, as if waiting for him to make the first move.

After a suffocating silence, he turns his back to you. "I'll be sleeping elsewhere tonight."

He intends of never sharing a room with you again, in fear of what he could possibly do to you as a result of his selfish desires to keep you close, and you seem to pick up on the tone of his words. You always do. "Astarion, please."

"I do apologize, sincerely. I'll form a better apology tomorrow, but for now, I'll fetch Shadowheart or that damned wizard and-"

He fights the urge to shiver when he feels your hand on his. How you manage to have such an impact on him with a simple touch he does not know, and does not care because all he wants is more. To pull you close, to beg you to keep him, to use him, to punch him, strangle him for all he cared, in hopes you'll even consider ever speaking to him again. Instead, he turns to look at you.

Gods, you're beautiful.

Even with those terrible bruises he'd go to hell and earth to take back, your beauty in unmatched with anything he's ever seen. Even with the bed hair and the anxiousness pursing your lips, he can't bring himself to look away again.

"Please stay. I'm not mad, nor afraid."

The words sound like honey on your tongue.

"Please," You say again, slowly this time. "Stay."

His chest feels tight, threatening to tear itself apart as his voice comes out in a crooked whisper. "I could have killed you."

"You didn't."

"If you died too, I don't know--what would I even do with myself? What would I-" He hates it when he sounds like this. Vulnerable, or as Cazador liked to call it: pathetic. But he can't help the words tumbling out his blasted mouth with the way you're gazing at him with nothing but worry. Somehow, with you, it feels strange.

Refreshing, almost.

Your hand squeezes around his as if to remind him you're still here. He meets your eyes again and it's all it takes to break what little will he has left, as he lets you pull him close in a crushing hug--one that's all too welcomed.

And as the two of you lie awake in each other's embrace, he thanks all the gods he doesn't worship for putting you on his path.

[yongvillage]

bruises | k.mg

street fighter bf!mingyu x afab!reader

established relationship, porn with some plot, minghao cameo cuz i love him, mentions of injury and blood, fighting, make up sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, one joke of mingyu being a masochist, one mention of death, creampie, oral (m receiving), skull fucking, daddy kink, breeding kink, dirty talk, recording, cum swallowing, cum eating, praise, muscle and size kink if you squint but that’s guaranteed in a mingyu fic 😭😭

summary: you and mingyu get into a fight over his bad habits, angst and smut ensues

wc: 2.7k

you’ve always hated the fights mingyu got himself into. he’d come home almost every week, with cuts and bruises littered all over his body. this time wasn’t any different, it was past midnight by this point, and you were curled up on the couch watching a random movie in an attempt to distract yourself from your growing worries. mingyu is usually home by this point.

a few more minutes go by and mingyu stumbles through the door with more injuries than usual. he sets his key down as you frantically walk towards him, noticing the way be avoids your eyes, “gyu.. your face, your bleeding everywhere.” he gives you a cold stare, his face battered and bloodied, and he brushes past you, going towards the bathroom where your med-kit usually was.

“yeah that’s the whole point y/n, it’s called street fighting for a reason.” you knew he wasn’t actually mad at you, just pent up anger from years of fighting, and especially tonight. scanning his whole body, the bright bathroom lighting allowing for you to see all his cuts and wounds more closely.

he slipped off his shirt, a huge bruise starting to form on the left side of his torso. “..you sure you didn’t break something?” your hand coming up to lightly stroke his ribs, mingyu’s anger blinding him from leaning into your warm touch.

“no, and why do you care so much anyway? it’s not like this is the first time.”

you tipped your head to the side, a ‘what’s that smell’ expression laid on your face, “what kind of question is that? i care because you’re my boyfriend, of course i’m gonna be worried.” your voice was nothing short of angry, your eyebrows almost meeting in the middle due to your frustration.

“you shouldn’t be.”

“uhh? yes i should, i’m tired of seeing you walk in here everyday with new cuts to clean. and your ribs.. mingyu you need to go see a doctor.”

“look y/n, i’ve been doing this for years—“

“well i think you should stop.”

it was deathly quiet, and mingyu’s hand holding a cotton pad paused in the air as he stared at you through the mirror. only the whirring sound of your ac being heard to combat the july heat. mingyu looked at you for a bit, chuckling to himself as his tongue poked through the side of his cheek, grabbing the gauze out of the med-kit and wrapping it around his knuckles.

“what’s so fucking funny?”

“oh nothing just that fact that you think you can tell me what to do.”

“yeah i’ll you what to do if it means not having you die in some alleyway.”

“please y/n, it never goes that far.”

“look at yourself! you basically limped in here, and i tried to help you but now you act like i’m a bitch for being worried about you?” you yelled.

mingyu finished up the gauze as he dropped everything and grabbed his shirt, walking towards the door. he left with a slam, not even caring to bid you goodbye, or kiss you and say ‘i love you’ like he always does.

the post-anger tears started streaming down your face. you knew he was probably gonna go crash at minghao’s, yet even with how frustrated you were, you still couldn’t help but worry and think about mingyu going to sleep untreated.

-

9:02 PM

(5) missed calls

gyu?

mingyu im sorry

are you okay? did minghao get you painkillers?

please dont fight again, at least take some time to let ur body rest :((

a full day had gone by. guilt stirred in mingyu’s stomach as he stared at his phone screen. he was the one who should be apologizing, not you.

he sighed, shutting off his phone and getting up. he knew he had to face you at some point.

“you leaving?”

mingyu hummed, shuffling into his shoes and heading out the door as minghao yelled out a goodbye. mingyu hopped in his car, letting the silence engulf him.

when mingyu walked into the apartment he noticed how dim it was, assuming you were asleep. he took his shoes off as quietly as possible, making his way to your guys’ shared bedroom. he heard a muffled voice, noting that the door was only half closed, peeking into the crack.

he saw you, adorned in one of his hoodies that was much too big for you, sleeves bunched up at your wrists and the hem coming down to your mid-thigh, naked legs on full display.

you paced around the room and it looked like you were on the phone with someone, the voice being hard to identify.

“did he say anything to you when he left?”

“nah, he just walked out.”

oh. it was minghao.

“shit, um, he didn’t even mention where he was going?”

mingyu heard the panic in your voice and the way your forefinger and thumb came to rub at your temples. he walked in as your eyes shot up to look at him, not hesitating to hang up on minghao, throwing your phone on the bed and running to jump into mingyu’s arms.

“oh my god mingyu!” you looked up at him and immediately started hitting him, “stupid! stupid! stupid! i hate you!” each hit enunciating your words, feeling like nothing but weak taps to mingyu. tears spilled out of your eyes, as mingyu only hugged you closer, hand coming up to pet your hair as the other cradled your head into his chest. he heard your muffled sniffing, his heart breaking at the stress he caused you.

“shhh i know, i know i’m stupid. i’m sorry baby.”

“you’re so mean! why didn’t you at least text me back? do you know how scared i was?” your voice broke, looking up at him with swollen eyes.

“i ..” mingyu paused, his hands coming down to hold your face, “i know i fucked up, i was too embarrassed to face you, afraid that you’d end things with me, which i would’ve probably deserved. i’m so, so sorry angel, i know no amount of apologizing will take away your worries, and i know i should’ve stayed and talked things out with you”

his thumb came to wipe away your falling tear, your hands hooking around his neck and pulling him down to kiss you. he instantly reciprocated, hands traveling down to wrap around your waist, pulling you close so that your bodies were flush against each other.

“i forgive you, i’m sorry for raising my voice at you.” you mumbled into his mouth, mingyu backing away to confusedly look at you.

“why are you apologizing? don’t say sorry baby, you should’ve slapped me as soon as i walked through that door.”

you giggled, looking down as you felt something press into your stomach, “you’re hard? really? got hard at the thought of me slapping you?” you teased.

“loooook..” mingyu looked away bashfully, his hand scratching the back of his neck.

“ew, you’re such a weirdo.” you said, slipping off mingyu’s hoodie to reveal a white tank top, your hard nipples poking through the thin fabric. you dropped down to your knees, fingers going straight to work untying your boyfriend’s sweatpants and pulling them down, along with his boxers, to his knees.

“oh, shit, hold on— you don’t have to do that baby.” mingyu hooked his hands underneath your armpits, attempting to pull you up being cut off by you stroking him.

“please, i want to.”

mingyu hesitated but was soon slapping his tip against your cheek, cooing at the way your head followed to try and get it in your mouth. finally he put it where you wanted, circling your tongue around the sensitive head. mingyu’s head lulled back, letting out a groan.

you took all of him into your mouth at once, his tip consistently hitting your uvula as you bobbed your head, twisting your hand on the base of his cock.

“fuck juuust like that baby, shit, h-have you been practicing on other guys or something?”

you laughed, only causing you to choke on his length, hitting his thigh as punishment for making you laugh while doing something that literally constricts your airflow.

“okay, okay, no more jokes, got it.” mingyu snickered, his gauzed hand grabbing your hair into a makeshift ponytail.

you came off of him with a pop, wiping off the drool dripping down your chin with the back of your hand, “gyu, u-use my mouth.”

mingyu smiled smugly, wordlessly grabbing ahold of your head with his other hand before shallowly thrusting into your wet mouth.

it wasn’t long before his length was ramming into your throat, breathless fuck’s and just like that’s leaving his cut lips. he was scared to even look down, afraid that if he saw your fucked out face he’d cum too quick.

you’re eyes looked up at him, tendrils of hair slipping past mingyu’s hold due to the sheer speed at which his hips slammed into your mouth.

“christ y/n, you look s’pretty like this, gon’ let daddy take a picture?”

you moaned at the label he placed on himself, nodding around his cock, eyes never leaving his sweat and scab covered face. mingyu pulled out his phone, angling the camera at your face. a red box with white numbers ascending appearing at the top of his screen.

“it’s a video baby, you don’t mind do you?” mingyu laughed when you attempted to hum a nuh-uh, only a string of muffled gags being heard. you were so wet, clit aching to be touched. you inched your hand down to touch yourself, drawing quick, fast circles.

“of course you don’t, so perfect, take my dick so well”

mingyu realized what it was you were doing to your lower half, “y’touching yourself? don’t worry daddy will fill y’up nice and good after this, j-jus’ let me cum in your mouth pretty.”

with a few final thrusts, and the erratic spasming of mingyu’s hips, you felt his hot cum travel down your throat, hollowing your cheeks as you slurped every last drop.

your knees ached as mingyu pulled you up, ending the video and hastily putting it in his hidden folder. he pulled you into a kiss, “did so good f’me baby, you always know how to spoil me.” he spoke into your mouth, tasting his own release.

“w-wanna ride you,” you huffed out, breathless. mingyu grinned, the right side of his face being the only indication of it, while the left was so mangled you couldn’t tell what expression he was even making. whoever he fought got him good.

“you sure? don’t tire yourself doll.”

“i’m sure!” you said grabbing mingyu’s hand, dragging him to the bed.

“whatever you say cutie,” mingyu let out a strangled breath while lowering himself down onto the bed, his torso still extremely sore, and his head perched up against the headboard. you quickly pulled down your shorts and panties as you swung your leg over his thighs, leaning down to kiss him.

you hand raked over his chest and chiseled abs, fingers dipping into each and every crevice as mingyu’s tongue explored your mouth. you pulled back and grabbed a hold of his flushed cock, rubbing it along your folds as your slick dripped down his length, a whimper leaving your lips.

“shit.” he hissed, staring intently as you paused your ministrations to line yourself up, slowly sinking down. you stared down at where you were taking him in, brushing the hair out of your face to get a better look. mingyu’s mouth fell agape, “you’re so fucking tight,” watching as a bulge slowly formed just below your belly button. even after the countless times you and mingyu had had sex, he was always just so big, your tiny pussy barely taking him in each time.

you finally looked up, mingyu’s eyes meeting your own. “jus’ gimme a sec gyu, you’re s-so big,” you said breathlessly.

mingyu smirked cockily, “take your time gorgeous.” his hands soothingly rubbing you’re plush thighs.

you bounced slowly, feeling each vein of his cock drag against your walls, tiny gasps leaving your lips. mingyu let you control the pace for a bit, allowing for you to adjust to his size. but he was getting impatient, his hands coming down to grip the sides of your hips, his four digits digging themselves into your ass before lifting you up and slamming you back down, the movement knocking the wind of you, making your jaw go slack.

“fuck!” your head hung low, hands coming up to grip his broad, muscly shoulders for support, watching out for any bruises.

“that’s it baby, just hold onto daddy and let him make y’feel good.”

mingyu’s pace was animalistic, his hold on you hard enough to leave an imprint. you were shocked as to how he had this much energy considering what his body had endured a night ago.

tears welled up in your eyes, feeling his tip kiss your cervix with each thrust. the curve of his cock aligning just right with your g-spot. “oh my fff-fucking god! mingyu please, ha-harder!”

you didn’t even know if it was possible to go harder, but mingyu managed to slam you down with even more force then before. a bead of sweat ran down his tan neck, his bangs sticking to his forehead as he stared up at you with hooded eye. his hips thrust upwards to meet you halfway, causing you to let out mangled gasps and moans. you were sure he was puncturing your lungs by this point. no inch of your pussy was left unexplored, squishy pink walls molded perfectly to hug his cock.

“jus’ like that gorgeous, your pussy was made f’me.”

“s-soo deep daddy, feel you in my tummy..” you whined out as you saw mingyu grin, canines on display, his hand coming up to grab yours, placing your hand on the bulge on your stomach, almost cumming right there when you felt the bump.

“fuck, you jus’ got so tight, y-you like when daddy pokes your tummy like that?”

you nodded frantically, tears flowing down your hot, pink cheeks, “i-i’m gon—na cum, g-gonna cum!” you struggled to get the words out, mingyu understanding you nonetheless.

“cum with me baby, gon’ let daddy cum in you?”

“fuck, yes d-daddy, want you to fill me up so bad, p-put a .. a baby in me,” mingyu loved how dirty your mouth got every time you were close to coming. his right hand pressed onto the small of your back, causing you to arch into him. his mouth was at perfect level with your nipples, taking your tit into his mouth and circling the hard nub with his tongue.

the pleasure was all too much, and with a few more hard thrusts your hole was spasming around his thick base, clenching and unclenching, mingyu’s mouth detaching from your breast as he looked up at you, his eyes shutting tightly as hot cum shot into your pussy.

“shiiiit, you’re milking me baby.” mingyu said, still grinding your hips onto him as he rode out both of your orgasms.

you reluctantly lifted yourself off of him, feeling some of mingyu’s cum drip down your thigh, scooping it with your index and middle finger and licking it off as you cuddled into his side, his arm laid across your shoulder.

mingyu watched as you cleaned him off your fingers, smoothing your disheveled hair. “such a good girl, not letting any of daddy’s cum go to waste.” he said as he booped your nose.

you giggled, “you okay though, gyu? d-does it hurt anywhere?” you asked, still breathless from your fresh orgasm.

“don’t worry about me doll, are you feeling okay? did i go too hard?”

“mm-hm, just a lil’ sore,” you snuggled closer.

“a shower should help ease y’up,” mingyu swung his feet over the bed, getting up as he reached his hand out, “think you can walk?”

“nooo i need my big, strong boyfriend to help carry me,” you joked, climbing into mingyu’s arms as he threw you over his shoulder, landing a playful slap on your ass.

“asshole! i’m not helping you replace your bandages.” mingyu could hear the pout in your voice, laughing as he made his way to the bathroom.

@yongvillage | thank you for reading!

[blackbirdsblackberries]

I Hate The New Hero

Pt 2: A spider's nest is different to a bird's.

Pt 1 - Pt 2 (You're here) - Pt 3 - Pt 4 - Pt 5 - Pt 6 - Pt 7 - Pt 8 - Pt 9 - Pt 10

Okay, judging by how the polls are going now, this one is winning!! I'll post the second part of Don't Drink The Kool-Aid soon (possibly tomorrow or the day afterwards). Don't be afraid to send in asks and such regarding anything! I love answering them and doing side stories/headcanons for this series or other series of mine!

The day rolls by painfully slow. How could it not when you're going to invite someone, who you're pretty sure would throw you to the wolves for a dollar, into your shitty apartment?

You exit the school building with two of your friends; Sherri Webster and Tia Hunt. You see Timothy leaning against the wall to the exit of the school building and you can't help but scoff, does he not have a life or friends?

Tia notices your gaze and chuckles, you had already told them both about Tim and the project, they laughed and made fun of you - you'll get back at them.

Sherri pats me back "If you don't come back to school tomorrow we'll let the police know he probably murdered you!" Tia laughs at that and I grumble and elbow Sherri.

"Oh shut up! God, you're insufferable!"

"And you're about to be dead!"

"Oh please, no one in Gotham stays dead these days!"

"I'll make sure you do!"

Tia interrupts before the minor spat ends in the two forgetting Timothy is there - now looking at the three with the very hatred you'd give to your parent's murderers.

"Can you guys fight later? In the group chat maybe? I'm starving and want to go home - private school food tastes like shit." Sherri sighs but agrees and the two wave goodbye before leaving you.

You wave and after a bit of awkward silence you glance at Timothy who is now staring daggers at you, his eyes are calculating but aren't narrowed - like a feral wolf analysing it's target. You hold back a sigh as you raise a brow.

You make a hand motion for him to follow you and you start to walk along the path to your amazing, beautiful, posh, cool apartment that in no way is flawed.

The walk is silent and painful, at this point your willing to bust out the charms and joke with him but you're scared he's going to smash your head into the concrete as soon as you make a joke.

You walk past a poster that was hung up regarding the heroes of Gotham, Aranea is near the center hanging to the side of a wall. You scowl at it - the picture was bad and didn't flatter you at all.

Timothy catches your scowl and makes a show of rolling his eyes and typing something on his phone. You can't hold back any longer.

"What? You grading me or something? Speak the fuck up if you have a problem, Richy Rich." You sneer as you say the last part, he snaps his head up at you in offense.

"Oh, you want me to speak up?! Fine, you're a selfish brat who's got parents that fawn over you and you never lacked anything in your life yet you go after some sweet innocent girl who would a hundred percent save you if you needed it. Aranea is one of the best people in Gotham and it's disgusting that you are so rude to her!" Timothy rants. You can't help but raise a brow, you want to laugh so hard - the irony is right there.

Instead you roll your eyes "You hate me because I hate someone you fangirl over? How pathetic. Hate me for a real reason!" You try not to smirk when you see Timothy try to take deep breaths and calm down.

"... Let's just get to your apartment already." He states as he continues walking, you raise a brow. "Wrong way." He turns around and follows you silently.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Finally you stop in front of your stunning apartment. Out of the corner of your eye you see Tim raise a brow.

"How'd you get into a private school if your parents can't even afford an apartment building that doesn't look like it's had ten different crime scenes this week?"

You deadpan, ouch man...

"I got in through an engineering scholarship." You reply blandly, no point in spilling your emotions and true personality to a person like Timothy.

Timothy doesn't say anything else and you take that as the conversation ending and lead him into the complex and to the apartment you reside in.

It's home and you wouldn't want anything different. The plants are dead, there's a leaky tap, the clock that's stuck on the wall ticks annoyingly, there's a small spider making it's home in one of the corners and all the furniture looks one kick away from dust.

Your parents don't have much time to clean...

You look at Timothy out of the corner of your eye, despite loving where you live you know people will judge and Tim will probably use this against you some time in the future.

.............................................................................................

Tim's confused. You had always exuded "rich spoilt brat" behavior and seemed so stuck up yet live in actual filth? On top of that you got into Gotham Academy on a scholarship? Do high schools even do scholarships? It doesn't make sense.

Tim's not an idiot, he knows he's being petty but at the same time he can't bring himself to stop. Aranea is one of the kindest people he's met in Gotham, a saint, an innocent person who deserves a good life.

Yet, you hate her guts, you say awful things about her despite not even meeting her - or maybe you did, either way there's no reason for you to be acting like this.

Tim isn't petty, he won't use your living situation against you but the scholarship thing can be.. a small post can ultimately cause ridicule in the school.

He blinks a couple times, not noticing how he's already in a cramped bedroom - it's the size of a supply closet in the manor!

There's a bed in the corner, a window that's curtained up, a closet, a toy chest and a pile of sketch books that reaches halfway up the bedframe. It's cozy he supposes - for a sewer rat at least.

You mumble something about getting food before leaving the room. Seems you have some smarts and etiquette.

His phone buzzes and he looks down at the Gotham Vigilante Group Chat (GVGC), it's a message from Aranea.

Aranea: "Heyyyy!! I won't be able to go on patrol tonight, my mama wants to go out for dinner :("

Tim sighs, that's good. He can't go because of the stupid project so it seems he won't have to get horrendously teased for missing out on hanging with Aranea.

Tim's phone buzzes again and it's Bruce.

Bruce: "Message if (Reader) does anything sketchy. You can't trust someone so hateful."

Way to state the obvious. Tim already had multiple plans in case you did something.

He pockets his phone after responding with a thumbs up and he sits down, on the floor - assuming that's where they'll work.

.............................................................................................

Soon you come back with snacks in hand and had changed into more comfortable clothes - they were your dad's because in no way were you going to show Timothy your sense of style.

The clothes consisted of cargo shorts that were grossly oversized and tied with some shoelace to stop them from falling and an oversized shirt with the image of Garfield on it.

You raise a brow at where Timothy is sitting.

"Uh, why are you sitting on the floor?"

"That's where we'll work. Why?"

You think you're ready to go cry in a corner out of frustration.

"I have a bed."

"okay? I doubt it can even fit the both of us."

... Okay, that's true. Still, even if you hated him your parents didn't raise you to be rude to guests.

"Fine. You sit on the bed and I'll kneel on the floor."

You watch as his eyes widen, not expecting that response. You push him to stand up and make him sit on the bed before plopping down and taking a big sketchbook and flipping to the back of it.

"Okay, let's get started." You mumble, more so to yourself.

You two spend the next three to four hours researching, drawing things and writing down dates. By the end of it your tired and just want to sleep. It would have been done sooner if there wasn't an argument that caused you to storm out of the apartment and pace the halls and if Tim didn't leave to the halls to answer a call but at least it's over with.

You rest your head against your bed, you're still on the floor and more than content staying there, you doubt your body will even allow you to move.

Slowly your eyes close and you drift off to sleep.

[frost-queen]

Tired of giving you all of me (Reader x Rodrick Heffley)

Requested by: me Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @alex--awesome--22, @ellie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve , @queen-of-books , @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown , @wildieflower , @meyocoko , @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @swampything07, @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 , @markive-m

Summary: You've had a crush on Rodrick for a while now, you finally dared to go ask him something. When Rodrick seems to invite you more for bandstuff. It takes you a while to finally see he was just using you for his own good. Rodrick realizing it too late that he can't think of anyone else. [idk if this will even be popular or that there is still a demand for, but ever since I saw the movie again I needed to get the idea out, so if this is only for me, so be it] - (N/Y/N stands for not your name)

You were very nervous. Very nervous about approaching him and asking for a shirt. Rodrick Heffley stood by his locker with two of his band members. Laughing and goofing around with his drumsticks. Pretending to punch the guitarist in the stomach whilst laughing loud. Collecting all your courage, you got in motion.

First hesitant but then you were already walking, it would seem idiotic to turn on your heel and leave. Only having to endure your poor decision. Heart thumping loud as you clutched the book in your hand a bit too hard against your chest.

Your feet stopped behind him as he still had no clue of your presence behind him. Taking a deep breath, you went to tap him on the shoulder. Rodrick stopped laughing, taking a half spin toward you on his heels. His eyes widened briefly before they settled with boredness.

"Yes?"- Rodrick said with a hard stare it made you want to crawl away. -"Hi Rodrick... I...I was thinking if I could get a shirt?"- you asked with all the confidence you could find. Which wasn't a lot. Rodrick scratched the back of his head confused with a drumstick. -"From your band."- you flapped out.

Swallowing nervously afterwards. -"How much are they?"- you then asked when he remained silent. He looked over his shoulder to his bandmates before letting his arm rest against the lockers. -"N/Y/N right?"- he said totally getting your name wrong. -" It's Y/n actually."- you corrected shyly.

Not that he was listening. -"Look our shirts are practically sold out."- he told you with a cool attitude. -"Really?"- you questioned, so gullible in believing it. Rodrick puffed loud, waving his drumstick down. -"Yeah."- he said as you saw his drum mates snicker behind him.

"But if you really must have one."- Rodrick spoke unbothered. -"I think I can find a spare one at home."- he let you know. -"Okay cool."- you responded with a shy smile. You turned around, feeling as hot as a stove. Rodrick puffed sarcastically, lowering his elbow from against the locker. Turning back around, he grabbed the guitarist by his neck, pulling him low to give his head a good rub. 

Counting the cash in your hands, you walked up to the Heffley household. Unsure how much Rodrick would charge you for a shirt, you came prepared. Ready to spend to one hundred bucks just for a shirt from him. You hated how expensive your crush on him was getting. Tugging the money away, you rose your hand to knock. Three firm knocks, making you take a step back. From behind the door you heard commotion.

Making you plaster up a smile. -"I'm already going."- a voice said whilst opening the door. A young boy answered the door, looking you up and down. You figured it must be Greg. Rodrick's younger brother. -"It's a girl."- he shouted to someone to the right. There was a loud gasp as you felt a bit uncomfortable.

The door got opened more as mrs. Heffley pushed Greg aside with a surprised look. -"Hello mrs. Heffley. My name is Y/n, I'm in Rodrick's class. Is he here?"- you introduced yourself. Greg started laughing as his mother nudged him hard in the elbow.

Her eyes seemed to lit up as she held her finger up. Almost trying her best not to smile so over exciting. -"Rodrick dear, there's a girl to see you."- his mom called out at the foot of the stairs. Greg kept staring at you questionable. -"What did he do?"- Greg asked curious. 

"Nothing."- you replied, moving your hands behind your back to occupy them. -"He paid you right?"- Greg assumed. -"Nope."- you anwered with a shake of your head. -"No way a girl wants to talk to Rodrick willingly."- Greg let out laughing. -"Rodrick!"- His mother called out again, more annoyed now.

You heard a door slam followed by loud thumping. -"What?"- Rodrick called out annoyed, scratching his hair. -"Rodrick."- his mom made clear with a nudge to you at the door. Rodrick's gaze went to you. He then immediately rushed back upstairs. -"Rodrick"- His mom yelled out as his behavior.

"Auch."- Greg said to you, walking off snickering. Waiting here for a shirt made you feel scammed. Like you were waiting for nothing, only to be fooled and laughed at. Lowering your gaze, you were about to turn back when there were more loud stomps. Rodrick rushed down the stairs, walking up to the door.

"N/Y/N right."- he was wrong again. -"Y/n."- you corrected him with a polite smile. Rodrick puffed unamused. -"Got my money?"- he said as you immediately grabbed for your money. -"How much is it?"- you asked as Rodrick's eyes widened on seeing the money in your hands.

He plucked the cash from your hands. All of it. Too bothered with the money, he threw the shirt at your face. It blinded you as a second later you heard the door slam. Taking the shirt down, you took a look at it. It was an ugly grey shirt with löader diaper written on it with a marker.

"You could've given me a nicer color!"- you shouted at the door. How ripped off you felt. Sighing soft, you went down the driveway back to your bicycle. Placing the shirt in the front basket, you started cycling home as the sun had already set.

Thinking about how Rodrick clearly had no interest in you and ripped you off by taking all your money, made you cry. Wiping your eyes constantly to keep your vision clear. All that for a boy you like. Something you were never daring enough to do something about it. 

The next day at school, you were sitting in class waiting for the teacher to enter. Gaze low on your books till you saw a set of black painted nails set on your desk. Moving your gaze up, you met up with Rodrick Heffley. -"N/Y/N."- he said lowering his head down keep a low voice. -"Y/n."- you sighed out at once again your name being wrong.

"Löader diaper has a gig tonight, can you come?"- he asked, looking over his shoulder if anyone was listening in. Your eyes lit up, curling up a smile. -"Really?"- you replied trying to dim your excitement. -"Yeah income fee is 10 bucks."- he told you. -"Didn't you already took enough money from me."- you pointed out at the hundred bucks he claimed ownership over.

Rodrick puffed loud, looking away. You kept glaring at him to make your point. -"I'm already giving you a fan discount."- he responded tapping on your book. -"You're a leech."- you muttered out. Rodrick smiled tauntingly.

The teacher walked in, dismissing Rodrick to his desk. You could barely pay attention. Constantly thinking of the upcoming gig. Of Rodrick Heffley actually having asked for your presence. Wanting another fan there. Unable to stop yourself from smiling, you were glad Rodrick sat somewhere far behind you. 

For the gig, you had put on the band shirt. Trying to make it as flattering as you could. You arrived at the gig after having gotten the text from Rodrick. Waiting by the entrance for him. You received some looks, all looking at your shirt.

Not the good kind of looks. Jumping back, the white van hit the brakes fast in front of you. The windows were down as the guitarist thumped his hand against the car door. -"Shirt girl!"- he called out. The comment made you roll your eyes, but still it was better than Rodrick giving you each time a different name.

Rodrick had gotten out, opening the side door, revealing another band member laying down with his legs up. Rodrick whistled loud calling you over. You went over to him. He took one glance at your shirt before grabbing a bag and shoving it in your hands.

"This needs to get backstage."- he said shoving another bag in your hands. -"Ro...Rodrick"- you breathed out confused. He gave you in each hand, held by a few fingers two more bags. -" Thanks N/Y/N."- he said getting it wrong again with a pat against your cheek. 

You wanted to correct him, but had slightly enough of it. Rodrick motioned for you to get a move on. Sighing loud, you carefully made your way backstage. Trying hard not to trip. The last few meters you tumbled forwards as the bags plopped out of your hands.

Exhaling loud, you were out of breath. Returning to them, you got handed over more bags and gear. Going back and forth... alone with no help from them. Exhausted and worn out, you made your way to the stage. Needing a moment to see the room was close to empty.

Just some drunks, some weird gathering club that clearly couldn't book another venue and a guy already starting to clean up. You were the only one, who moved to the front of the stage. Looking uncomfortable around. The band got on stage as Rodrick went to sit behind the drums. They introduced themselves as you were the only one clapping.

Rodrick started to slam the drums as they played one of their favorite songs. You tried to ignore the drunks behind you, enjoying their gig. They played a few songs till the guy cleaning up cut the lights, setting them in darkness. He didn't even apologize as Rodrick suddenly stopped playing.

Staring saddened in front of him. Taking his drumsticks, he left the stage in anger. You quickly made your way backstage. Seeing Rodrick scratch the drumstick in his hair. -"You were amazing."- you complimeted them. Rodrick stopped, eyes widening at you.

He than laughed loud. -" Pack up N/Y/N."- wrong again. -"It's Y/n"- you made clear with a glare. -"Whatever." - he answered letting the drumstick twirl between his fingers. Sighing loud, you collected the bags. This time the other bandmates helped out with the heavier gear. Rodrick waiting in the car, behind the wheel.

After the car was loaded, he drove off without offering you a ride home or a goodbye. Sighing soft, you went home alone. Ever since the gig, you got pulled up more and more by Rodrick to do things for him. Charming you each time with something fun till he made you do everything. Basically becoming their roadie for everything. 

Rodrick sat at diner, discussing the upcoming talent show, he wants to join with his band. It could be his major breakthrough. Greg snorted loud, receiving a stomp underneath the table from him. -"Auch."- Greg called out. Rodrick mimicked his pathetic whining as their parents sighed loud. -"So Rodrick... this talentshow... you'll need a lot of preparation right."- his dad started to gear up a conversation. -"Duh."- Rodrick answered with a full mouth.

"I'm so prepared for our breakthrough, I'm making more shirts."- Rodrick let out. -"Oh."- his mother responded intrigued. Rodrick lowered his fork. -"I'm letting Y/n do all the work."- he answered chuckling. His father's fork dropped, clattering against his plate. Staring with wide eyes of shock at his wife. -"Hold up."- his mom began.

"Are you telling me you are using Y/n to do your work?"- she made clear. -"Yeah."- Rodrick replied obviously. His father threw his hands up. -"Wow."- Greg said dramatically. Rodrick looked at everyone not getting what was wrong about it. Rodrick's phone rang as the name popped up on the screen. His mom taking a quick glance at who was calling him. Minion. Rodrick got up, picking up the phone. -"N/Y/N."- he said all smug. He heard you sigh on the other side.

"Are you even trying?"- you asked him at once again calling you wrong. -"How are my shirts?"- Rodrick asked avoiding your question. -"Done... I'll drop them off later."- you yawned loud after your sentance. -"Cool."- Rodrick answered before ending the call. 

You arrived at the Heffley household with two bags full of hand-made Löaded diaper t-shirts. Rodrick opened the door without any acknowledgement to you. He took a bag from you, looking inside. -"How many are there?"- he asked. -"40."- you told him with a smile. Rodrick dropped his gaze at you.

"40? I asked you to make 70."- Rodrick called out. -"No you didn't."- you replied sure you were right. Rodrick sighed taking out his phone. -"There, see."- he showed you the texts between him and you. Your eyes widening at the nametag. Minion. In horror you stared at it, not even caring for the number. -"What?"- Rodrick called out, looking back at his phone.

"Is that what I am to you?"- you shouted. Your sudden loud voice startled him. -"Minion. You're just using me!"- you threw the bag full of shirts at him. It hit him in the chest as he caught it before it would fall to the ground. -"What is the big deal about it."- he answered unbothered.

It pained you to finally see the reality. Having not wanting to see it for so long. Always telling yourself that he liked you. That you were only helping him out cause he wanted to be close to you. Turns out you were wrong. Unable to control yourself, you started crying.

"The deal?"- you called out. -"You're using me to do your dirty work and I stupidely let you. I let you use me because I wanted to be close to you."- you cried out in a state of hysteria. -"Because I'm in love with you!"- you confessed wiping your tears away agressivly. Rodrick staring with wide eyes back at you, unsure what to say.

You threw the second bag of shirts at him as well. Rodrick tried ducking for it, but it hit his shoulder when he ducked to the side. -"You are the worst Rodrick Heffley!"- you shouted wanting to hit him but your hand lingured in the air. Rodrick having turned his head, ready to receive the impact.

Yet it never came. Slowly opening his eyes to you. -"Get my goddamn name right!"- was the final thing you shouted at him before running off. Crying so loud, you had to keep wiping your eyes dry to see something. Rodrick swallowed nervously, entering the house once more.

Greg jumped in front of him all jokingly. -"Ha! You loser."- Greg laughed out, making fun of his brother. Rodrick clenched his jaw, jumping at Greg. Pulling his head under his armpit out of angerness. Greg started calling it out for mercy as Rodrick gave him none.

"Rodrick!"- his mother shouted pulling at his shoulder. Rodrick let go of Greg with a loud huff. -"That's it!"- she called out when Greg taunted Rodrick once more. Rodrick nearly jumping at him to mess with him. -"No talent show for you!"- mrs. Heffley made clear.

"What? But it could be my great breakthrough."- Rodrick answered pleadingly. -"I am sick of your behavior and how you just treated Y/n is beyond how I raised you! You need to learn some respect Rodrick!"- she said as a final. Rodrick stomped up the stairs angered to his room. Slamming the door shut. Letting himself slide down against his wall. Palms pressed deep onto his eyes. Knees to chest as he felt at a sudden loss. 

Rodrick hated that his mom still made him come to the talentshow. He was waiting in the open room before being seated. He looked around, gaze stopping as he spotted you. He made the effort of wanting to greet you or talk to you. You locked eyes with him, giving him a glare. Before he could stop you, you walked off.

"Y/n..."- Rodrick said as it never reached you. Being ignored so obviously. Exhaling loud, he lowered his hand once more. Turning his head, he met up with his mother's gaze. A lot of sympathy in it. Rodrick shrugged her off, heading for the theater. He took his seat next to his mom at the outside.

He had a good view at backstage. Eyes widening as he saw his bandmates and Bill appear backstage. His eyes widened even more seeing you appear near them. -"Be right back."- Rodrick said slipping out of his seat. Making his way down to the stage to find a way backstage. -"What is going on?"- he called out confused. Bill laughed doofily. -"Are you playing without me?"- he asked feeling betrayed.

"Yeah."- Bill answered groovily. -"But I started the band."- Rodrick replied in shock they would play without him. -"That's rock and roll dude."- Bill told him. -"Oh and I took your minion too."- Bill let out. Rodrick's eyes widened with anger. Before he knew it, his fist swung at Bill's jaw. Bill tumbling to the ground.

"You stay the hell away from Y/n!"- he called out as his guitarist had to pull him back. -"Rodrick?"- you said confused approaching. You had left for a second to fetch them some water. Rodrick looked back at you with a gulp. He took as step closer to you, saddened to have being so stupid.

You set the waterbottles down, taking your leave. -"Y/n!"- Rodrick called out making you stop. -"I'm sorry..."- he apologized. You shook your head not wanting to hear it. -"You never are."- you told him. Rodrick ran up to you when you started to distance yourself from him. -"Y/n."- Rodrick repeated grabbing your wrist to pull you to a stop. -"I'm tired of being used by you."- you called out. You wanted to turn around when Rodrick took your other wrist as well, keeping you in place. -"I'm an idiot."- he confessed.

"An idiot for not seeing what was right in front of me. I shouldn't have used you or take you for granted. I'm really sorry about that Y/n but please don't hate me. That is the least thing I want."- he finished. Rolling your eyes at him, you puffed loud, turning away from him. Rodrick pulled you back to him. Lips crashing onto yours.

So caught up with you, he hadn't seen how he was on the stage. The curtains dropping as the kiss was displayed to the entire theater. There were gasps all around and muttering. The guitarist trying to get his attention. Rodrick retrieved his lips, looking shyly around at the peering eyes.

Annoyed, he pulled you backstage. Looking back at you, he snapped his finger in front of you. Seeing how frozen you had gotten from the kiss. -"Must I kiss you to unfreeze you Y/n?"- he teased with a chuckle. You immediately shook your head, hand pressing against his chest. Rodrick smiled moving a hand on your lower back to kiss you again. Not taking you for granted anymore.

------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[parkersgarage]

a/n:I just be throwing words together and hit post y’all, I can’t even lie.

Sevika x gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned) 747 wc, little angsty but I wouldn’t cry to it (｀_´)ゞ dialogue heavy as per usual!

“Am I still allowed to say, ‘come back in one piece’” you ask quietly, watching her tighten miscellaneous screws on her arm.

Sevika doesn’t get it. Why you’re so suddenly quiet when before you wouldn’t stop yapping her ear off, or when she’d come home, you’d shout and cheer while waking up the whole damn block. But now it’s just quiet.

She hates it.

A look of disappointment crosses your face when you don’t receive any response. Your eyes have never looked so dull and lifeless before.

“I know you don’t like this,” she starts, staring at her hand. She couldn’t look at you. “I don’t either, but this is how I can keep you safe.” A hum is her only response; she takes it.

“Can you talk to me, please?” Sevika nearly bites her tongue at the plea, but you’re the most important thing in her life now and maybe forever. “I can’t read your mind, not as good as before.”

A shaky and deep sigh falls past your lips. With trembling fingers, your hand glides up her arms gently, slowly melding your body against hers. She takes you in just as tenderly, rough fingertips holding your waist while the cold metal of her hand reaches to your neck.

“It’s too much,” you confess, letting your head fall to her shoulder. You couldn’t let her see you. “All of this change, all the blood being spilled, your new employer.” Your voice gets rougher by the end, and Sevika’s heart churns at the anger in it.

Had she known how you would react to it, if she knew how bitter and angry you’d be about her joining the very force she used to fight against, would she still do it?

If she could take back joining, if she had just let it lie and die, could she?

“I’m–” the apology sits heavy on her tongue, waiting to spill out, but all that follows is silence. You wonder, did this new life mean Sevika couldn’t even talk to you?

She sighs, rubbing her forehead as you pull away from her. “I wish I didn’t have to do this just to keep you safe.” She murmured, her head cast low in an attempt to hide. “He told me as long as I work for him, not a single thing would touch your head, and that’s all I want.”

“Vika, we could’ve just left—”

“And where would you suggest we go?” She asks, cutting you off entirely. There’s a snap in her tone that doesn’t go unnoticed, one you couldn’t blame her for. Yet she sighs again, regret on her face– or rather, it was guilt.

“I get it.” You nod, sitting back– away from her. “I’m sorry.” Another sigh; it seems almost never-ending. The dissatisfaction, the hurt, everything. All because of one slight change. “I won’t complain anymore.”

“That’s not what I–” her sentence falls off her tongue when you get up. Just as you move to walk away, her fingers are quick to grasp your wrist lightly. “Don’t go.” She whispers, and shockingly, her eyes turn watery before casting downwards. “Please.”

You sink back down to your knees. Her hand still holds onto you, afraid you’ll walk away again. You can’t tell what’s going on in her head, what internal battle she’s going through, and how this change affects her.

“You should eat.” You say after a beat of silence. She only hums, ultimately leaving the thought behind as she lays her head against your chest. “You’ve had a long day, Vika.”

Her eyes shut as she focused on your beating heart. She felt bad for tuning out your voice, but this is what she needed. To hear that you were alive, that you weren’t lying lifeless in a ditch like she’d been threatened with hours ago by some goon who was less than her.

At the end of the night, after you’ve both eaten and settled for bed, she clings onto you tighter than she ever has. When she thinks you’ve fallen asleep, the tears that soak your shirt don’t go unnoticed by you. All you wished for was to turn around, wipe them from her face, and tell her it would be okay. But Sevika wouldn’t want that, at least– that’s what you thought. “I love you.” She says. It weighs you down, making you sink further and further into the pit you dug yourself into.

You wonder why it was only said when she thought you were sleeping.

can yall tell I like writing semi-soft Sevika ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

[cxtori]

Satoru Gojo ✭ Kiss Me Back

wc: basically 5k… it wasn’t meant to be lmao

summary: based off of this thought i posted a while ago

genre: angst, fluff, drunk “confession” but it gets misunderstood, friends to lovers, silly drunk Gojo

warnings: n/a

tori’s note: I finished this fic after having it in my drafts for almost a year. I kinda strayed from how my original prompt went lol. Idk how I feel about the second half of this, I’m not a huge fan of it but y’know, it be what it be. Hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Gojo doesn’t drink often. In fact, it’s more accurate to say he never drinks. He hates alcohol. The way it tastes, the way it burns, and especially how quickly it affects his system.

He’s always been a lightweight, it only taking a few shots before he was intoxicated. But for some reason, Shoko’s teasing pressure to get him to drink got to him a lot more tonight than usual. 

It was supposed to be only one shot, then just one more. But now, here he is, a couple hours later and 6 shots down, drunk and stumbling, leaning against you for support.

You grunt as you struggle to keep the tall man vertical and walk him down the street to your car. 

“You are amazing, Y/n,” Gojo slurs, wrapping his arm tighter around your neck. You huff and roll your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve said that 3 times already,” you laugh lightly. Gojo trips over his own foot, causing you to stumble and almost fall. Thankfully, you catch yourself and keep the two of you from crashing into the concrete. 

“Jeez, Toru! Are you serious?” You ask, unbelieving that he was so intoxicated that he really couldn’t walk straight. Gojo only moans miserably in response. “We’re almost there,” you sigh.

You knew how much he hated the repercussions of drinking and tried to stop him before it was too late. But he seemed to be feeling a little self-destructive tonight, so your warnings fell on deaf ears, much to your annoyance. Even so, you still felt empathetic enough to take him home yourself, turning down Nanami’s kind offer to do so.

After another block of walking and stumbling, you finally make it to your car, opening the passenger side and awkwardly shuffling around as you try to help Gojo into the seat. It felt like he was purposefully doing everything he could to make this simple task as complicated as possible. Which, honestly, you wouldn’t put past him. 

You eventually get him and his lanky limbs into the vehicle and hold back a laugh when he groans and dramatically drapes himself over your center console, arms spilling into the driver’s seat. You walk around to the other side of the car, moving his arms carefully before sitting down and pushing him to lean against the window. 

“Okay, tough guy. You still have the water Nanami gave you?” You ask. Gojo clumsily reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out the water bottle he somehow managed to fit in there. Damn men’s pocket sizes.

“Good, I want it empty by the time I make it to your place,” you state, turning on the car and pulling into the street.

“The whole thing?” Gojo whines. You laugh breathily, finding amusement in his drunk demeanor.

“Yes, the whole thing. Gotta stay hydrated so drink up!” You encourage. 

The white-haired man mutters a complaint as he cracks open the bottle, and you watch dumbfounded as he drains it in seconds. 

“I didn’t mean drink it all at once…” you say. Gojo shrugs and sinks further into his seat. 

You drive in silence for a few minutes, the pale, orange street lights whizzing by and the soft, white noise of the tires rolling on the pavement making the ride a peaceful, comforting experience. At least it would be if Gojo wasn’t staring holes into the side of your face. 

In his drunkenness, he’d somehow managed to misplace his glasses and blindfold, much to your dismay. You adore those brilliant blue eyes, but damn, if they weren’t intimidating as hell when they were staring you down. You do your best to ignore it, keeping your eyes focused on the road ahead of you. 

You feel your heart skip a beat when a cold, calloused finger presses gently against your temple before tracing your hairline, sweeping your hair behind your ear.

“You’re so pretty,” Gojo whispers, his words barely audible. Your breath catches in your throat, caught off guard by the sudden compliment. 

“O-oh, umm… I- th-thank you,” you stutter horribly. Gojo hums softly as though he’s satisfied with your reaction before laughing lightly. His hand leaves your quickly heating face as he turns back to the window, slumping against the cool glass. 

After what couldn’t have possibly even been a minute, you hear the faintest snore come from the man. You poke his arm, expecting some kind of reaction. But nope, he’s out.

You take a deep breath and start blasting the AC. It suddenly feels really stuffy in here.

You soon reach his house and pull into the driveway before parking the car and climbing out. You open the passenger door, being careful to not let Gojo dump out onto the ground. You shake his shoulders, whispering to him that he was home and needed to wake up. After some gentle-turned-vigorous shaking, the man wakes up bleary eyed and a bit confused. 

“Have a nice nap, sleeping beauty?” You tease, taking his arm and attempting to pull him to his feet. He grunts, reluctantly swinging his feet out of the car and onto the ground. The moment he stands, he leans back against the car, his eyes squeezed shut in discomfort. 

“Shhhhit, why did I do that?” He slurs, the alcohol still screwing with his brain. At least he’s more coherent than 30 minutes ago. 

“Not to be like that, but I did try to stop you,” you joke.

“Shut up,” he groans. His eyes open and meet with yours, but instead of holding the annoyed glare you were expecting, they were soft, appreciative. His typically pale complexion was still dusted pink, though not nearly as flushed as earlier, and there’s the faintest hint of a smile to accompany it. 

He leans against you, his arms snaking around your waist in a loose hug, and his head resting heavily on your shoulder as he sighs. “Thank you, Y/n.”

“Why don’t you thank me when I’ve gotten you inside!” You laugh awkwardly, pushing the large man off of you. 

Gojo pouts, his soft, pink lips protruding in a way that could only be described as borderline sensual. You tear your eyes away from him and link your arm in his to walk him into the house with much less stumbling this time.

You make it inside, Gojo dragging down the hall to his room while you dig in his kitchen cabinets in search of ibuprofen. Once you’ve found what you’re looking for, you grab a glass and fill it with water before making your way to Gojo’s room.

You knock on the door, the sound echoing through the cold, empty hallway. A muffled “come in” reaches your ears and you open the door. 

You step in and your eyes land on a half-naked Gojo sitting on his bed, stopping you in your tracks. He did say to come in, didn’t he?

He looks at you, a questioning expression written on his face. With everything he’s done this evening, it’s beginning to be hard to believe he’s not purposefully trying to fluster you.

You draw in a breath and walk over to him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you nervous.

“Here, for the potential hangover,” you say, handing him the pills and water. He takes it gratefully, downing the meds and water quickly. He sets the glass on the nightstand with a soft thunk, and an odd silence follows after. 

“Well, I’m gonna head home now. G’night, Toru,” you say, turning on your heels and heading to the door. Your hand barely touches the doorknob when Gojo says your name.

“Y/n,” he calls quietly. You stop and turn to him with a questioning hum, but he doesn’t give any response back other than a waving hand, signaling for you to come back to him. You shuffle awkwardly to stand in front of him, confused about what he wants. 

He stands up, his chest almost bumping against yours as he does so. You begin to take a step back, but before you can, his hands are on your waist, holding you in place. You look up at him to ask what he’s doing, but the words get stuck in your throat the moment your eyes meet his.

Those bright, cerulean eyes that were so often hidden from the world, were looking at you with such care and fondness that it made your chest tighten. 

Before you’re even aware of what’s happening, his warm, soft lips are pressing tenderly against yours. 

Your tense muscles relax and eyes flutter shut as your lips push back against his. His hands grip your waist as he pulls you closer to him before one lifts the back of your shirt, fingers dragging slowly over your skin. 

You sigh into him, your own hands traveling up his arms, to his neck, eventually finding home in his silky hair. His other hand moves from your hip to your face, cupping your cheek as he deepens the kiss. 

His tongue darts out and sweeps across your lips and the faintest lingering taste of bitter alcohol bites your tastebuds, snapping you back to reality. It’s only then that you remember who you’re kissing, where you are, and how you got there. 

Your eyes fly open and hands move to his chest, pushing him away from you harshly. Gojo loses his balance, landing back into a sitting position on his bed, his once peaceful expression now shocked and confused. 

Your hand covers your mouth, surprised by your own actions. It’s only a second or two that you stay there, staring at each other before you decide that you should definitely leave.

“I’m sorry, I need to go,” you say, wasting no time in leaving his room and ignoring his calls for you. You jump into your car and start the engine before your door is even closed.

What were you thinking? He’s the drunkest he’s been in ages, how could you let that happen? You curse yourself as you drive home, frustrated that you allowed such a thing when your friend was in such a vulnerable state.

 You make it home and park in the driveway, but you don’t leave. You sit in your car and stare blankly at the steering wheel as the full weight of regret begins to sink in. 

You’ve desperately wanted that man to kiss you for years now. But not like this! Not when he was intoxicated and most likely not thinking straight. You wanted a genuine kiss; one he gave you because he truly wanted to. Not because his drunk-self just wanted attention.

How are you supposed to keep your feelings for him under wraps after this?

You’ll just have to lie. You’ll tell him that it was just a slip up, that you were caught off guard. That he kissed you and- dammit, you kissed him back! And not only that, you were wrapping your arms around him. You can’t play off your feelings for him when you kissed him like that!

You groan painfully as you open your door and force yourself into your house, trudging your way to your room. You change your clothes and crawl into bed before plugging your phone in. The screen lights up with the red battery, which disappears quickly, revealing a missed call and several texts from Gojo.

I’m sorry Y/n. Can we please talk?

It wasn’t what you think

Y/n?

Hello?

He almost never texts you, let alone several times in a row. But you can’t find it in you to respond. You turn off your phone and stare at your ceiling for what feels like an eternity, the moment replaying in your mind on repeat. 

It wasn’t what you think? What is he assuming you think?

You raise a finger to your mouth, remembering how it felt to have his lips on yours as you trace over them. 

It was so warm, so sweet. The way he held you close to him, so strong yet gentle. The way his thumb stroked over your face so tenderly. Maybe… it was real.

No. You can’t allow yourself to believe it was genuine and get your hopes up, you can’t.

You roll over onto your side just as your screen lights up once more. You take a glance at it and find another text from Gojo. 

I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Please let me explain.

A new wave of anxiety washes over you when you realize you’ll have to see him tomorrow. You do work at the same school after all. You don’t have a few days to process this or even find a way to respond. 

You wrap tighter into yourself and painful tears fill your eyes, not taking long before they’re streaming down your face and soaking into your pillow. You just want the earth to open and swallow you. 

Your only comfort is in the slim possibility that he was still drunk enough to have a chance of not having clear memories the next day. Maybe he’d wake up, see the messages he’d sent you and not even remember what it was about. 

You know it’s a foolish hope. He wasn’t drunk enough during that kiss to have no recollection of it. Even so, it’s the only thought that calms you down enough to fall asleep. 

Okay, all you have to do is file a couple reports, meet with Ijichi and Nitta, and check in with Shoko on a new corpse. You don’t even have to be on campus the whole day, just do your few tasks and leave. 

You were not going to talk to Gojo today. You’re not sure your heart can handle it right now. You’ve barely even processed what happened last night. It’s like your mind is trying to convince you it was a dream. But the unanswered texts still sitting in your inbox say otherwise. 

You decided you would do your best to avoid the inevitable conversation. You’re sure that when he sees you, he’ll likely confront you about it. But, if you were with others, you knew he’d keep his mouth shut. You can’t hide from him, but you make damn sure he can’t catch you alone.

You know you’ll have to talk about it eventually, just not today. And maybe not tomorrow. Or the day after that.

You take a deep breath as you walk into the school and head for Yaga’s office. You’re not too worried about bumping into Gojo here as he usually avoids this part of the school simply because he’s afraid of running into Yaga and being asked to do something he doesn’t want to. 

You make it there without incident and knock on Yaga’s door before entering. Thankfully, your meeting doesn’t last long as you just have to turn in your reports and give him a quick rundown of your past week’s assignments.

Next was finding Ijichi and Nitta. Which meant going to the more common areas of the school. Which meant risking running into Gojo.

At this point, you were just hoping he decided to go MIA today as he typically did. Or maybe he’d be too hung over to even bother getting out of bed. Whatever the case may be, you just hoped he wouldn’t be behind the door to which you are about to enter.

You turn the doorknob quietly and poke your head in, finding no one but Ijichi sitting at a desk looking over a stack of papers, and you feel relieved. You step inside and Ijichi looks up, a small smile appearing once he sees it’s you.

“Ahh, Y/n. You’re a bit early,” he greets kindly. 

“Haha, yeah. My meeting with Yaga didn’t take as long as expected,” you laugh softly as you walk over to the desk and take a seat across from the man. “Where’s Nitta?”

“She’s currently out with the first years. They were sent to investigate the disturbance you reported a few days ago. Turns out it was just a few Grade 3 curses roaming around.” Ijichi replies.

He shuffles the papers spread out on the desk into a few separate piles before picking up each one, shaking them into neat stacks and paper clipping them together.

“Oh, that’s good to know,” you say with a smile. “So, you said you and Nitta needed something?”

“Oh, yes. We wanted your opinion on-”

“Gooood morning!” A familiar voice calls happily as the door swings open. You hunch over in your chair and glue your eyes to the papers in front of you, not daring to look at the man. You didn’t think you would run into him this soon.

“Oh, goodmorning, Gojo,” Ijichi says.

“Ijichi,” Gojo greets and nods to his co-worker.

He turns to you, your eyes still studying the reports laying in front of you. It was obvious you weren’t reading them though, considering they were upside down to you. “Y/n,” he says quietly.

You still refuse to look at him, mumbling a barely audible “good morning” in return.

Ijichi, sensing some tension, clears his throat and returns to the matter that brought you here in the first place. He only had a few questions, wanting your opinion on which recent cases should be assigned to which students. It wasn’t long before you had fulfilled your need and could leave.

You say your goodbyes, stand from the desk and make your way to the door, still having not spared Gojo, who was leaning against one of the couches, even a glance.

Despite hiding his eyes behind that dark blindfold of his, you could tell he’d been staring at you the whole time. You could practically feel his gaze burning holes into your skin. But, just as you expected, he didn’t dare bring up anything about the previous night with Ijichi in the room.

You walk out the door, thankfully leaving Gojo behind it. But you weren’t sure how long he’d stay there. You make your way quickly through the halls as you head towards the morgue. You open the door and step inside, the cold air making your body shake with a chill. 

You walk through, but find no sign of Shoko. Deciding that she must be in the office, you turn and start making your way over, it being just a couple doors down the hall. 

You step outside of the morgue and about jump out of your skin when you’re met with blinding white hair. Gojo. Of course. You should’ve known he would catch up to you. 

You stand there for a moment, him standing in the doorway and therefore blocking your exit. You still can’t bring yourself to look at him, not really, only giving him quick glances. It must be so easy for him to make “eye contact” when he doesn’t really have to.

“Can we talk?” He says, his voice taking on an unusually shaky and serious tone, and you suppress a sigh. Any hope you had of him not remembering last night shattered with those three words.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you say quietly, desperately wanting to avoid the impending conversation. 

“Y/n,” he says, his large hand reaching carefully for your arm. You move quickly, avoiding his grasp.

“I don’t want to talk,” you say and push past him, making it through the doorway. You speed walk down the hallway to the morgue office, thankful that it’s just a few doors down. Gojo begins to say something but before he can, you’re knocking on the door, shutting him up quickly.

Shoko opens the door only a moment after you’ve knocked, silently stepping aside to let you in once she sees it’s you. Her neutral expression breaks a bit when she sees who’s behind you.

“Gojo, wasn’t expecting to see you today,” she says, referring to the rough condition he was in last night.

“I’m full of surprises, aren’t I?” He chuckles. He looks at you as he says this and you feel your face grow warm. Shoko walks over to her desk and shuffles through the various items in search of something.

“How are you feeling? You haven’t had that many drinks in a long time,” She asks curiously.

“I feel great actually. Y/n is a pretty good caretaker,” he says, once again looking over at you. “She’s the reason I’m not hungover.”

Yep, you certainly were. Maybe you should’ve skipped the water and ibuprofen. But that was before what happened. Past you had no idea that future you would be cursing that decision.

“He wasn’t too much trouble was he? Gojo’s always annoying when he’s drunk.” Like he’s not annoying when he isn’t drunk.

“He was fine,” you say plainly, wanting to move on from the topic.

“Fine is one way to put it,” Gojo says, an obnoxiously flirty smirk on his face. What happened to the serious and borderline nervous Gojo you had just a moment ago? Bring him back please.

“Maybe I should’ve let Nanami take you when he’d offered,” you mutter. Shoko turns back around to you, confused by the comments being made.

“Is that really what you would’ve wanted?” Gojo asks. 

“If it means we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now, then yes.”

Shoko looks between the two of you, reading the looks on your faces and expertly deciphering that this was not a conversation she needed (or wanted) to be a part of.

“I’m not getting involved in this,” Shoko mutters as she collects her things and quickly leaves the room, abandoning you in this anxiety-inducing situation. “We can meet later, Y/n.”

“Ah! Wait, Shoko!” You call, but she ignores you and walks out the door. Well, this certainly isn’t what you wanted to happen. Now you had no excuse to leave and apparently didn’t have anyone to have your back. You knew Shoko saw your plea for help in your eyes and she actively ignored it. But, it is Shoko. She always avoids getting involved in things that don’t concern her.

The silence that follows Shoko’s leaving is so incredibly deafening and you hope the ground will open up beneath you. You debate leaving, but you know that Gojo will just follow you. There was no escaping it now. Dammit, and you were so close to getting out without speaking to him.

You cross your arms over your chest and lean against the desk, your eyes glued to the floor.

“Y/n,” Gojo speaks softly. You refuse to look at him. You can’t. You don’t know what will happen if you do. “Y/n.” He steps closer to you and you sink further into yourself, feeling your throat tighten. “Let me explai-”

“What did you mean?” You close your eyes, finding yourself talking before you can even comprehend the words leaving your mouth.

“What?” Gojo says, confused. You sigh, annoyed with yourself now for having said anything.

“Your text. You said it wasn’t what I thought it was. What did you mean?” Gojo looks at you. Well, you assume he’s looking at you. He could be looking at the wall behind you for all you knew.

“I…” Gojo starts but doesn’t finish. He sighs quietly and leans against the chair in front of you. He doesn’t attempt to speak again for a long moment and you begin to wonder if he even plans to. And you’re right, he doesn’t speak. But instead, his hand reaches for the dark blindfold hiding his eyes, and he pulls it down around his neck, his snow white hair falling into his face.

You tear your eyes away as soon as he does, not able to bear even the thought of looking at him directly in those blue irises. Luckily, you’re not tempted to as he keeps his head down, his hair shielding his eyes from your view.

“I remember everything from last night,” the man says finally. You feel your heart sink. You knew he remembered, but for some reason, hearing him say so only made your anxiety worsen. “You didn’t give me a chance to say goodbye last night,” he says with a mild, teasing tone, though it was made with minimal effort, the tension in the room making it hard to joke playfully.

Your arms tighten around you and your throat burns, your eyes remaining focused on everything but him. 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t expect to be leaving in such a hurry either,” you say, risking your voice breaking into tears. Gojo chuckles.

“I thought you’d stay for a bit longer after the way you were kissing me,” He jokes, and this time it has his usual lightheartedness to it. Despite that, you feel your blood run hot through your body and for a moment you forget that you’re avoiding looking at him. Your eyes whip over to see him already looking at you, a smirk on his lips.

“Wha- you kissed me!” You whisper yell, afraid that someone outside may hear you. You can’t believe him. HE made a move on YOU, and yet he wants to talk about the way you were kissing HIM?

“Buuut, you kissed me back!” He says accusingly but airily. You close your mouth at this. He’s right, you did. And this is just what you were afraid of, him realizing that you kissing him back meant you actually enjoyed it if only a little. You couldn’t hide it.

“And I shouldn’t have, I’m sorry,” you say quietly. You turn your gaze away just in time to miss the way Gojo’s face twitches and his smile drops. Before you can’t stop yourself, you continue to speak, the coil in your throat snapping and the tears beginning to well in your eyes.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you back. I shouldn’t have let you kiss me to begin with. But please, I don’t want to hear what you have to say about it. I know you were drunk and it was a mistake just… Please, don’t tell me that.” 

The silence that follows your statement is so quiet that you can hear Gojo’s uneven breaths alongside your own. You feel the urge to run, to walk out the doors and never turn back. To find a hole somewhere to bury yourself in, never to resurface.

“You think I made a mistake?” Gojo’s words barely reach your ears, his voice so soft you almost have to strain to hear it. He looks at you, completely dejected. “Even if I did feel that way, do you think I’d come here to mock you for it? Do you think I’d be that cruel?” The hurt in his voice is so obvious that you can feel it yourself.

“I… I don’t know.” Truthfully, you did know. You knew he wouldn’t do something like that. He may be annoying, but he’s not cruel. It was out of your own fear of the outcome that you were avoiding this conversation. But then, two words in his statement stand out to you. 

Even if. 

Meaning even if it was a mistake. Meaning he didn’t think it was?

The tears welling in your eyes begin to fall when you dare to look up at him, his own already on you. But you don’t look away this time.

“Would you have kissed me if you were sober?” You ask quietly. Gojo’s shoulders slump and his face grows longer at your words. He takes a cautious step towards you, testing to see if you’ll back away. And you don’t.

“Y/n, I didn’t kiss you because I was drunk,” he replies, his voice smooth as silk. He takes another step forward, this time reaching out a hand to place on your arm, and you don’t pull away.

“That’s what I meant when I said it wasn’t what you thought. I knew you figured it was an alcohol-influenced choice. And while the alcohol admittedly may have had something to do with it, that wasn’t why I did it.” Your vision blurs as you begin to cry, your tears feeling like rivers of fire as they flow down your cheeks.

“I did it because I wanted to, Y/n,” he admits. He lifts a hand to your face, wiping your tears as he strokes your cheek with his knuckles.  “It wasn’t a mistake. It was a choice. And one I don’t regret.”

You close your eyes, not being able to see with them open anyway. His other hand moves from your arm to swipe at your tears, both hands now cupping your face tenderly.

“I don’t know what to say,” you mumble. You raise your hands to wrap your fingers around his wrists, your thumbs stroking over the back of his hands. You open your eyes, your vision clear enough to see him looking at you fondly, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His soft lips that, in the back of your mind, you’ve been thinking about all morning.

Your gaze must have lingered on his mouth for a moment too long as his smile widens. He comes closer to you, his head towering over yours and his hands guide your face to continue looking at him.

“You don’t have to say anything right now. But.” He leans his face to yours, his warm breath against your lips. “I would like to kiss you again. And I hope you won’t run away this time.” His voice lilts in that familiar, teasing tone and your heart twists.

“I won’t,” you say with a breathless laugh. 

His large hands continue to hold your head as he moves forward, wasting no time in putting his lips against yours in a passionate but tender kiss.

And this time, you let yourself kiss him back.

©Cxtori 2024 please do not copy, plagiarize, repost or translate. reblogs appreciated

[viperify]

Oneshots | ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱᴏʀ!ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ X ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Next Saturday, same time.

Short summary: Your Defence Against Dark Arts professor, Tom Riddle, was less than pleased with your academic performance. When he then called you in to discuss your grade, his true intentions came to light.

Warnings: 18+ only! Sir kink, praise kink, degradation kink, orgasm denial, rough sex, manipulation, impact play

All characters in this story are adults.

A/N: So sorry for not posting in over a week, school’s been keeping me busyyy. While I am fighting for my life with no escape pt 2 y’all can have this. ;)

wordcount: 3,7k

“Good evening, miss. Please, take a seat.”

Cautiously you entered the tiny office and sat down on the chair, opposite of him, resting your hands on the smooth surface of your professor’s wooden work desk. He studied you intently, lowering his gaze to watch how your fingers fidgeted with a loose thread of the grey sweater you were wearing. One of your favourites, not revealing too much, yet showing the perfect amount of cleavage to be okay to wear around school. His eyes wandered, quickly stopping at the exposed skin of your chest, until his eyes finally met yours.

“Do you know why I called you here today?” he questioned, voice just as strict and controlled as you were used to.

You shook your head, innocent eyes staring back at his strict expression, your lips turning into a slight pout. He huffed, the corner of his lips twitching slightly, carefully laying the quill he had been holding in his right hand onto the desk. Your eyes followed his long, slender fingers, admiring the veins decorating his pale skin. He was wearing his signature Gaunt family ring, an heirloom, which had been intriguing you ever since the first time you saw it. The brunette clearing his throat tore you out of your thoughts.

Right, he probably expected a vocal answer.

Of course, you knew why he had called you in. Your grades had been miserable, failing all three exams you’d had. Now, you weren’t necessarily a bad student, however Professor Riddle was the strictest and most unforgiving teacher at Hogwarts. One single word he didn’t deem as fitting and your whole answer was wrong. On top of that, just to pass most people studied for hours on end, starting two weeks before the exam. You did too, yet it had never been quite enough. 

That’s how you ended up getting an owl from your professor, telling you to meet him after dinner in his office that day. Obviously, you didn’t think much of it, except being humiliated once more for your grades. Professor Riddle was notorious for hating bad students after all.

“No, Sir. I don’t know.” 

“You haven’t noticed your horrific grades? I must say, I expected better of you, miss.” the brunette replied, his disappointment sounding authentic, though you knew for certain it wasn’t. He didn’t care whether someone passed or not, for him it was the pleas to not let them fail that spurred him on.

It was sick, really.

Though, nobody ever had been called into his office solely for that reason. And you knew just how many girls would have loved to switch places with you. He was the youngest and most handsome professor at Hogwarts, there was no denying that. In fact, many girls stayed behind after class to ask completely unrelated questions to his lessons, just to have his attention for themselves for a minute.

His answers though were mostly simple and straight to the point, his cold exterior void of any emotion. Most of the girls were disappointed, but that didn’t keep them from trying again next lesson. You never asked anything, not wanting to give him the satisfaction you knew he felt deep down at his admirers, even if he didn’t show it.

“I have noticed that. However, I don’t think that is entirely my fault, Sir.” You started, carefully at that. What you didn’t want is to insult his ego. Somehow you would have to convince him you are worthy of passing the subject after all.

His answer wasn’t what you had expected. A slight grin forming on his face, eyes flickering to what seemed like your exam papers in front of him. “And why is that, if I may ask?”

You were certain you had never in your life seen that man smile, Merlin forbid grin. Either he was in a very good mood that evening, which you heavily doubted, or he was already envisioning your tear-stained face after he would have you fail.

Yeah, that pretty much summed up what kind of professor he was. You had thoroughly messed this up already.

“No- please don’t understand this wrong, Sir. I- I just thought your exams in comparison with other subjects were quite high effort, making it harder to study and pass.” You stuttered, trying to find the right words to get you out of trouble.

“Well, miss, what can I say?” he leaned over the desk slightly, his eyes meeting yours again, “I am unlike other professors. My lessons are demanding. If students wish to pass, they will have to set their priorities straight. Which clearly isn’t the case for you.”

You cursed yourself. There it was, exactly what you thought was going to happen. He would let you fail if you tried making your case.

“No, Sir, please. I will do more for your lessons from now on. I can’t afford to fail your subject.” You cringed at how pathetic your begging sounded. So desperate. Especially to a professor who was known for finding joy in their students’ pleas, but you had no other choice. You had to at least try.

He nodded slightly, the corner of his lips perking up. “I fear it is too late to make promises for the future now. Though, what are you prepared to do to fix your past mistakes?” The brunette asked you, his eyes hinting at your exam papers in front of him.

“Anything, Sir.”

The energy shifted at your words, tension lingering thick in the air. He exhaled sharply, getting up from his seat. “Anything, hm?” You managed a shy nod as he walked around the desk to lean against it besides you.

His head sank, adjusting a button of his black suit as he nodded. After what felt like an eternity, his hot gaze met yours, and you felt as though his eyes were burning right through you. Finally, he spoke. “You know just how long I have wanted you in this position? Eager to do anything to fix your grade? It’s been miserable, really.”

Your expression changed to one of confusion, staring back at him. “Sorry, Sir, I don’t think I understand?” He surely didn’t intend to say what you thought he did.

Again, he nodded, a sly smirk forming on his full lips. “Oh I think you do, darling.”

He inched closer to you, dangerously close for your liking. In fact, you had never seen him that close before. Every single detail about his exterior was neat, suit fitting him like it was hand-tailored just for him. Knowing how highly he valued his appearance, it probably was too. His brunette curls perfectly styled, falling beautifully onto his forehead like they always did.

“I am sorry, Sir but I really-“

“Always running that pretty mouth of yours.” He mumbled, interrupting you, as he ran his thumb over your soft lips. You breath hitched at the sudden contact, yet you didn’t stop him. Never would you have expected this to happen, but here you were. Sat in front of your Defence Against the Dark Arts professor as he caressed you. He stopped at the center, gently pressing down, urging you to part them for him. Naturally you obliged, pushing his finger into your warm mouth, instinctively starting to suck on it. As you looked up to him through your lashes, you saw a small crease forming between his eyebrows, a small groan slipping from his slightly parted lips. “Such a dirty girl. I knew you had it in you.”

You didn’t know why you even gave in to him. Shame rushed through you, your cheeks heating up. You really shouldn’t be doing this with your professor. However, you needed to fix your grade. And maybe, just maybe… you started to see his appeal. Which didn’t change the fact that it was wrong. So wrong.

“Come on, get up now.” He demanded as he withdrew his thumb from your mouth, pulling you up by your arm in a quick motion so you were stood up in front of him. His gaze wandered up and down your body, taking in your curves he had yearned to touch ever since the first time he had noticed you. Again, his eyes locked onto the exposed skin of your cleavage, hand travelling from your waist your shoulder, running his finger along your clavicle.

“Wearing such a short skirt in combination with that sweater when expected by your professor, should have let you fail merely because of that.” He muttered, taunting you. His hand guided yours towards the dent in his trousers, letting it brush against it slightly. The brunette’s breath was hot on the side of your face as he leaned in, causing you to shiver. “You feel this, doll? That is what you do to me.”

“Y-yes, Sir.” You stammered, unsure of what to say. Were you really going to do this?

He didn’t leave you any time to think about it.

“It’s time to punish you for all these indecent thoughts you have been causing me.”

“Tell me,” he started, grabbing your chin to make you look him in the eyes while he spoke to you. “How is it that I can’t resist you?” The tone of his voice was softer than you were used to, yet the strictness remained.

“I could have any girl at my feet with a simple snap of my fingers. Yet I yearn for no one more deeply than I do for you.”

You were lost for words, staring back at his unreadable expression. If you had to describe it, it would have been a mix of pain, anger and desire – positively too many emotions at once for someone like him.

“I-“ You tried, though immediately cut off by him. His hand softly wrapped around your throat, slightly furrowing his eyebrows as his darkened eyes warned you. “No more talking. You have done enough damage. Making me feel all these things I was certain I would never get to experience.”

With that, he pushed you backwards until you hit the rough edge of his desk, trapped between his body and the wooden furniture. His palm slowly travelled up your thigh, halting when he reached the hem of your skirt. He leaned down, his lips just barely hovering over the crook of your neck as you could almost feel the conflict in his mind. “Tell me you want this too. Say it.” His breath shallow against your skin, voice nothing more than a whisper.

Your mind was reeling. You shouldn’t want this. You shouldn’t get flustered from your professor’s touch. You should have never even allowed him to get you into this position. Yet, you couldn’t deny the excitement rushing through your veins at the thought of what he was going to do with you. What he would ask of you to fix your grades.

“I want it too. P-Please, Sir” you whispered, exhaling sharply as he planted a soft kiss on your skin, goosebumps rising on your skin at the contact.

Unsure of what to do, you reached out to hold onto his arms, feeling his muscles tense under your touch. The brunette lifted his head, his eyes locking onto yours. Clearly, you must have read his expression wrong, because when you drew closer to kiss him he stopped you, tightly squeezing both of your arms.

“No kissing. Don’t you-“, his fingers roughly lifted your chin, making you meet his stern expression. “Listen to me. Don’t you dare try doing that ever again.”

At first, his words stung, causing tears to well up in your eyes. You quickly blinked them away. His voice, which he had intended to come off as rough, told you there was more behind what he was ready to admit.

You knew he wanted the kiss too.

And you were right.

The look of his eyes betrayed him, his usual controlled demeanor threatening to shatter. It took him everything there and then to make it sound like he despised the idea of kissing you. After all, kissing meant love. Love meant vulnerability. And Tom hated vulnerability.

Early on in his life, when he was residing in the orphanage, people around him used vulnerability to hurt others. The intelligent boy he was, he caught onto that quickly. Shutting down emotions had always worked well for him. He was quite certain that by doing so for years he had lost the ability to feel entirely.

Until you entered his life.

Completely wrecking the idea of what person he was, of what he wanted to become.

It only played into his cards when you then started failing exam after exam. It was like a gift from Merlin himself. He would finally have an excuse to meet you privately, to manipulate you into thinking you were doing this for a grade. When all he wanted was to finally let out all that pent-up frustration and anger on your poor body.

And there was part of him who wanted to love you. To hold you, tenderly care for you. But that part was somewhere so deeply hidden in his soul, he didn’t even acknowledge its existence. All he wanted to do was make you pay for the turmoil of emotions he was feeling. How could you do something no one else was capable of, not even himself?

Make him feel. Like a human.

Kissing you wouldn’t fix anything, but rather make his suffering worse. He wouldn’t kiss you. Never. Today, you would pay.

His hands reached out to tug on your sweater, pulling it over your head, before cursing something under his breath, unzipping the back of your skirt, letting it drop to the floor next to your sweater. His hungry eyes roamed over your body, your silk underwear hugging your curves perfectly. You suddenly felt exposed at the way he was leering at you and attempted to cover your bare skin. “Sir, I don’t know if it’s a good idea, I mean-“

Tom snatched your wrists. “You want to fix your grade, don’t you?” He growled, the muscles in his jaw stiffening. You nodded quickly, disregarding your doubt.

“That’s right. Stay all nice and quiet for me now.”

With a quick motion he flipped you around, palm pressing down between your shoulder blades to have you bend over his desk as he was standing right behind you. A yelp was all you managed, surprised by his sudden roughness and the cold material beneath you.

“This is for failing your exams.”

Smack

“This is for wearing these disgraceful outfits around school.”

Smack

“And this is for messing with my head.”

Smack

He let his palm repeatedly come down on your barely covered ass, the intense sting of the impacts having tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, small gasps escaping your lips.

“W-what do you mean, Sir?” You croaked, lifting your head to search for an answer.

Smack

“I told you to keep your mouth shut. Do you ever fucking listen?” He growled, delivering another harsh smack to your already reddened skin. If he wasn’t angry before, he was now. Making quick work of your panties, he let them pool around your ankles, pressing his erect length against your now bare skin, making you inhale sharply. Even clothed, he felt big.

He undid his belt and instructed you to put your hands behind your back, to which you obliged. “Going to make sure you aren’t going anywhere, darling.” The brunette mumbled as he wrapped the leather around your wrists, securing them tightly.

You lay there, so beautifully exposed and helpless in front of him, just like he wanted you. Looking so innocent. His hand reached out to caress your back, though he stopped himself in time.

No affection.

He would only check whether you were ready for him, nothing more. This wasn’t for your pleasure after all, it should be a punishment. Really, nothing more than that.

Yet, when he heard your soft moans as his hand rested on the curve of your behind, thumb lazily playing with your puffy clit, he almost changed his mind. Your sweet voice, the one he was used to hearing only when you were laughing and giggling with your friends during his lessons, aroused him even more than he already had been, almost painfully so. His finger swiped through your folds, gathering your wetness just to push it back inside of your dripping hole. He exhaled sharply at the feeling of your tight walls wrapping around him, slowly opening up for him.

“Want more please, Si- T-Tom” you mewled, bucking your hips against his hand, desperate to feel him inside of you. Knowing you couldn’t see him, he grinned. He got what he wanted, having you bent over his desk, all needy and desperate for him and only him.

Smack

“We will keep the formalities, hm?” He taunted, withdrawing his thumb from your aching cunt just to replace it with his tip, not yet entering you. He was savouring every second of this, the first time he got to be inside of you, have you under his complete control.

“Please, Sir.” You whined, and though you still weren’t 100% convinced this was the right thing to do, you wanted him so badly. Your professor, who just mere seconds ago almost made you come only by the touch of his fingertip.

Tom couldn’t take it anymore. You shouldn’t want this so badly, you shouldn’t want him. His palm landed one more hard smack on your soft skin before he steadily pushed into your warm core, which was sucking him right in.

“You are so-“ you whined, body tensing at the intrusion, “so- big, Sir” The stretch radiating a painful sting from your core. “I know. Can barely fit inside of this tight cunt of yours.” The brunette growled, not letting you adjust to him as he mercilessly snapped his hips into yours, the sound filling his tiny office room.

You cried out in pleasure as the pain faded, disregarding his orders to stay silent. The way his veiny cock dragged against your sensitive walls made your mind go blank, making you a moaning mess under him. His hand wrapped around your throat as a warning, shushing you.

“Going to ruin you for everyone else. This pussy is mine, isn’t it, darling? He spat, holding onto your tied wrists for leverage as he hit your cervix with particularly deep thrusts. “Sir, please- Merlin-“ you moaned, your hip bones repeatedly hitting the edge of his desk, sure to leave bruises that would still remind you of him for days.

“Keep quiet- fuck- can’t you ever just-“ he groaned, his eyes darting around the place looking for something, anything. He clutched the nearest object he could find – which happened to be one your exam papers – and shoved it into your mouth, hand covering it to make you keep the provisional gag in, muffling your voice. “That’s  better.”

He felt his orgasm approaching in big steps, the feeling of how your warm, wet walls so perfectly gripped his length having him on the edge of sanity. He longed to have you clench around him, milking him. That’s when his hand snaked down your thighs, though before they reached your clit, he remembered what this was about. Even when you weren’t able to speak you drove him crazy, and he despised you for it. So, instead of rubbing your clit, he added another smack to your sore ass.

“So-“ thrust “fucking-“ thrust “tight.” thrust

You whined and as his hand finally left your mouth, you spit out the now damp paper, coughing. The way he was mercilessly pounding into your aching cunt had you see stars, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “S‘ too much- please-“ you managed to croak out, trying to wriggle away from him, his fingers tangling in your hair to yank your head back and steady you.

“No, you better stop squirming. Fuck- I am going to break you just like you broke me.” He hissed, slightly bending over your form, making you take him to the hilt. You whimpered, eyes squeezing shut, yet you had no other choice than to take what he was giving you.

Just a few thrusts later he felt himself desperate for release, though he wouldn’t grant you the honor of coming inside you. He pulled out of you right as he was about to finish, spilling his seed on your lower back instead with a low grunt. A small whine escaped your lips at the feeling of his cum on your skin.

Both of you stayed like this for a while. Your mind was still fuzzy from his rough handling, barely able to form a coherent thought. You wondered what he was thinking about. Did he regret it? Although it was a dangerous game you two were playing, you loved it. More than you had thought you would.

And him? He got what he wanted after all. Taking out his anger on you. But now it wasn’t any better. Tom sought after more. If he could, he would have you bend over that damn desk every single day. However, he would have to let you go. For now, at least.

The brunette freed your wrists, helping you stand up straight. With a wide smirk on his face, he wiped his release off your back with your panties. “What the-?” You asked, snatching it out of his hands. “Filthy girl, filthy panties.” He shrugged. “Put them on, get dressed and go back to your dorm. If you speak to anyone about this, consider yourself expelled. No one will believe you.”

There was something you still wanted. Something he denied you.

“What about my turn to finish?”

Sitting back down behind his desk, hair damp with sweat, he stared at you as though you had just said something outrageous. “Girls like you don’t get to come. This was for fixing your grade, not for your pleasure.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “What about my grade then?”

“Come back next Saturday to find out.”

You scoffed. “I am not going to.”

He knew you would.

And he was right.

feedback is as always appreciated <3

[thesoftuglywrites]

Like A Million Yen

Originally, I wanted to get this posted on the 31st of October… that clearly didn’t happen. Oh well.

Post-Shibuya!Nanami

Enjoy!

WC: 4.3 K

Panic overwhelmed you as you hurriedly scoured through the makeshift infirmary. The only sound registering in your ears was the thrumming of your erratic heartbeat and the rushing of blood.

You had known that Kento was called in to deal with an emergent mission that had suddenly sprung up on the both of you, but never in a million years could you have imagined something as grand-scale as this. The only thing that compared would probably have been the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons almost a year ago, but Kento managed to survive that situation relatively unscathed.

This time was different.

You had received the call from Yuuji, that Kento was severely injured and that you had to come quickly. The news, at first, startled you, but what scared you the most was how defeated and exhausted Yuuji’s voice sounded.

You acted fast, darting in and out of the curtained and sectioned off rooms, and past the lined up cots that held all of the other injured sorcerers and civilians. Though you couldn’t see yourself, you could only imagine how disheveled and wild you looked as you frantically searched for your husband.

“Mrs. Nanami!”

You stopped dead in your tracks, and turned to see Yuuji, all battered and cut up from the battle that had ensued. That he had survived.

You let out a breath of relief that you didn't even know that you were holding in, and rushed towards him, pulling him into your arms, and crushing him to your chest. You were grateful to see him on his feet, taking his appearance into consideration, of course, but you were thankful that he was alive and breathing, nonetheless.

"Thank God you're okay," you whispered, your hands tightly gripping at the back of his tattered uniform. You pulled away, and gently cupped the sides of his face. "Are you hurt?"

Yuuji, seemingly slipped into a dissociative state as he bore a thousand yard stare into your eyes as he looked back at you, blinked a couple of times as he was able register that you were speaking to him.

"I, uh... I'm fine Mrs. Nanami, I swear, " he stammered out, rather unconvincingly.

You were going to circle back to Yuuji whenever the circumstance would allow you to, but right now, you just wanted to be reunited with your husband more than anything.

"Yuuji, can you take me to Kento? I don't know where they're keeping him..." You've never sounded so small before. You hated it.

Yuuji grasped your wrist and led you to the farthest corner of the infirmary, guiding you to the end of a long line of curtained beds. You could feel your heart hammer against your chest the closer and closer you got to Kento, the beating sound beginning to overpower your sense of hearing. That's all you could really hear in that moment in time.

At the very end of the line, Yuuji stopped and pulled back the divider of the very last section, letting you go ahead of him into the tiny impromptu room. You hesitantly stepped in, your eyes landing on a figure that was laid on a cot.

As you approached, you could see that it was in fact Kento and that half of his body was wrapped up in white bandages, the other half was seemingly left unharmed. For the most part, at least. His hair was a birds nest upon his head, the skin that was left uncovered was bruised with black and blue marks, and he looked utterly exhausted.

You pulled up a chair that was in the room and placed it beside the cot, and took his hand in yours. His skin was warm to the touch, and you watched as his chest rose and fell with each breath he took, reinforcing the fact that your husband was alive. Injured and wounded to an extent that you didn't know of just quite yet, but alive, regardless. You brought his hand up to your lips and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it, thanking whatever higher power would bother to even listen to you in that moment.

You held his hand up to your lips for a few seconds longer, before giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Nghh.... darling? Is that you?"

His voice pulled you out of your silent reverie, and you almost cried tears of joy when you saw your husbands uncovered eye looking at you blearily.

You wanted to throw yourself on top of his body, but rationality stopped you from doing so. So, instead, you opted to placing his palm on your cheek, trying to gain some semblance of control over your emotions as they began to spiral out of control the more that you leaned into his touch and sought out his warmth.

You wanted to be strong for Kento.

You had to be strong for Kento. Especially, considering that there was likely going to be a long road of recovery ahead of him.

You wanted, no, needed to be a rock for him to build his foundation on, like he had done for you many times before in times of turmoil for you.

"How are you feeling?" you managed to get out, your voice shaky.

He gave you a half-hearted smile. "Like a million yen, my love."

You leaned over him to press a kiss to his forehead, your lips lingering just a second too long. "Well, thank goodness for that." You tenderly pressed your forehead against his, closing your eyes as you just tried to bask in his presence and his touch.

"You're not going to be happy with me."

You pulled away, confused. "What? Why would I be unhappy with you?"

A tiny, sheepish grin. "I've lost my wedding ring."

~

You got the full story from Yuuji when Kento had been taken to a healing session with Shoko the next morning. He had been badly burned by some unregistered special grade, and, instead of seeking out help like he should have initially done, had recklessly put himself back into the line of duty and had fought off a horde of transfigured humans in his horrendously mutilated state in hopes of searching for his fallen comrades. He was about to be transfigured by the special grade that was responsible for the horde, some childlike curse named Mahito, but Yuuji, arriving at the eleventh hour, managed to prevent that from happening, swiftly dealing with it before anymore damage could occur.

You had made a mental note to thank Yuuji in some grand, special way that you could go about. Whether it would be a home cooked meal with all the stops pulled out, or, hell, maybe even adoption papers (though, that would have to definitely be discussed with Kento before anything like that came to fruition), you had to do something for the young sorcerer to properly thank him for saving your significant other.

Kento had been promptly discharged from acute medical observation after having spent a week within the confines of the Jujutsu High Infirmary and having numerous healing sessions with Shoko in the process. His red, angry burned left half of his body slowly dimmed to a lightly, flushed pink, and the hair on that side of his body was going to take come time to grow back, of course. Unfortunately, his left eye was something that Shoko was able to regenerate, but he wasn't going to be able to see out of it, rendering him to the use of an eyepatch.

You had spent every waking moment with Kento, doing everything in your power to aide him and be of assistance to him in whatever way possible. You had helped him to the toilets whenever he needed to go, you helped bathe him all while trying to be conscientious of his healing skin, had been at his beck and call and had promptly forced him back into bed several times whenever he tried to go and do things independently.

He hated being catered to, being treated like he was incapable of doing things for himself, by himself. For you, however, he allowed the exception. Begrudgingly, if that.

The first few weeks back home were... uneasy, to say the least.

Every time that you caught Kento looking at himself in the mirror, you would see his mouth turn up in disgust, and he would briskly turn his head in the other direction. He didn't want to leave the apartment, fearing what the general public may think of him.

You've never known your husband to be extraordinarily vain, but you wanted to give him some grace. His appearance and some of his physical capabilities have been drastically changed, and the both of you needed to take some time to get used to it.

As time went on, his mood became more and more surly.

He had withdrawn within himself, and no matter how determined you were to try and coax out what he was truly feeling inside, he would shut down and go nonverbal.

What was most hurtful, however, was how reluctant he was to let you touch him, and vice versa. It seemed that any chance you would take to try and initiate some form of physical affection with him, Kento would immediately brush you off or straight up reject your advances.

"Not tonight, my love. I just want to go to bed."

"Not right now, darling. I'm not in the mood."

Oh, and you could forget about sex. There was no way in hell Kento allowed you to touch him in that sort of regard. Not that you wanted to get physically intimate with him, keeping in mind that he way still recovering from some pretty egregious injuries on the entire half of his left body.

It was just something that lingered in your mind for some time.

You knew that the road to recovery was going to going to be a long one, but you hadn't anticipated the man that your husband was becoming.

Or had already become.

Yuuji, Megumi, Ino, Ijichi, Shoko, and among others paid visits to your home, checking in the two of you to see how you were faring, Shoko mainly stopping in to see how Kento was healing in his post treatment. Shoko was really the only one that Kento allowed to see, hiding himself away in the safety and privacy of your bedroom if it was anyone else.

You knew at some point that Kento was going to have to talk to you, about anything and everything that was going on inside him. It was just a matter of when it was going to happen.

The straw that broke the camels back was when Kento, all while trying to enjoy a cup of coffee at the dining table, accidentally lost his grip on his mug, causing it to shatter on the ground, allowing the contents to spill out all over the floor.

"God dammit!" he quietly snarled to himself as he leaned down beside the chair to pick up the shards of the mug, his hands trembling.

You rushed forward with a dish towel, trying to beat him to the shards of the broken mug. "Here, let me-"

You threw the towel over the mess, as you tenderly picked up the bits of the broken mug and placed them in the palm of your hand, careful not to try and pierce yourself with them.

"I'm sorry."

You paused, looking up at him questionably. "Why are you sorry? It was an accident, Kento. This hardly deserves an apology."

A forlorn look crossed his facial features, the unmarred half of his face scrunching up like he was trying to fight off an onslaught of tears that welled up in his eyes. As he sat there, his emotions brewing within him, he felt like he was a child again. The despair and turmoil swirling in both his chest and his abdomen, overwhelming him as his current state of mind rendered him to feel as if these things were too … too complex for him to process, like he was experiencing it again for the very first time. It was as if the world was too big for him, and he was too small for it. "No. I'm sorry."

You realized that this was more than just the spilled coffee and the broken mug. You stood up, holding the mug in the safety net of the dish rag, watching as Kento began to speak his piece.

A few tears managed to spill over, and you watched as they rolled down his cheek. “When I was sucked into the domain expansion of that water-based Curse along with Maki, Megumi, and Naobito, I thought of you.” He wiped away at the tears on his cheek, keeping his head down so he wouldn’t meet your gaze. "When I was burned by that unregistered special grade, I thought of you. I had… I could’ve gone back to Shoko. I should have gone back…"

You remained silent as your husband broke open before you, the floodgates now barreling wide open. He hunched his shoulders forward, leaning somewhat of his weight onto the table as a sob ripped through his core.

"I nearly died, and left you behind."

In that moment, the reality of the ordeal that Kento survived seemed to finally sink in. The repressed shock and horror coming to the forefront of his mind, forcing him to relive those moments, from the moment when he first set foot within the veil to nearly dying at the hands of the Special-Grade Curse in the Shibuya subway station. He buried his face into his hands and cried, his entire trunk rattling with each shaky breath he took.

He cried for the fact that students, fellow sorcerers, and innocent civilians alike were murdered in cold blood. He cried for the fact that he wasn't able to protect Maki, Megumi, and Naobito from the unregistered special grade. He cried for the fact, that instead of seeking help when he was gravely injured, that he foolishly put himself back onto the frontline. He cried for the fact that he was content with dying at the hands of Mahito, with the prospect of you becoming a widow at such a young age, especially when the pair of you had only been married for a little over two years.

It became clear to you that Kento was suffering from survivor’s guilt. To him, why was he, out of everyone who responded to the incident in Shibuya, allowed to survive?

Why was he granted the ability to continue on living, when there were people who were far more deserving of it?

You set the dishrag on the table top, unable to idly stand by while Kento was in distress. With careful hesitation, you slowly extended your hand out to him, softly touching his shoulder as they shook with sobs. You held still for a moment, trying to gauge his reaction to your physical contact with him, unsure if he would allow you to continue any further.

When he didn't flinch away or move your hand off his shoulder, you cautiously inched closer to him and pulled him by his shoulders into you, letting him bury his face into your chest. You wrapped your arms around his head, threading your fingers into his hair.

"How can you stand to touch me?! Or even be near me?! I'm hideous," he sobbed, his voice muffled.

"I married you for you, remember?"

Kento lifted his face out of the valley of your breasts and met your gaze, his eyes swollen and teary. You tenderly placed a hand on the scarred side of his face, and stroked his cheekbone with your thumb.

"Is this okay?"

He nodded mutely, and closed his eyes, leaning his face into your hand. Kento denied himself the joy of your touch and comfort since he’s been back home with you, out of the shame and humiliation that he harbored for himself.

"I married a kind, gentle, and loving man. A courageous, and valiant man, someone who abnegates himself and his own safety for those he oversees, especially for his students, so that they can make it back home to their loved ones alive and breathing." You leaned down and pressed a kiss to the crown of his hair. "I’m blessed to have such a wonderful person to call mine. Above all, I’m blessed that this person allows me to call them mine, and that they chose me, out of all the potential partners that they could have had… they chose me." You leaned down and pressed a kiss to each of his closed eyelids, your lips lingering on his left side for a second longer than the right side. "And I am forever grateful for that."

A beat of silence passed between the two of you after you finished speaking.

"I should be dead."

Dread washed through you at his statement, but you quickly pushed it to the side, trying to remain steadfast. "But you’re not, Kento. You’re here with me."

Kento gently pushed you back several inches, giving him some room to stand up from the chair to his full height. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his front, allowing you to place the side of your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"And for that, my love, I am forever grateful."

~

Both you and Kento weaved your way through the crowds as the two of you trekked to the underground labyrinth that was the Tokyo subway station. You were headed back Jujutsu Tech for a final checkup appointment with Shoko for Kento.

It wasn't easy to convince him to step out of your shared apartment for the first time, but with enough encouragement and persuading from your end, he finally gave in. One of the conditions, however, was that you accompany him on his appointment and that you find him an eyepatch to wear over his left eye.

You also saw that as an opportunity to see Yuuji. You know that the poor boy has been worried sick over Kento.

You hadn't noticed that there was a slight lag in Kento's hold on your hand as you led him through the crowds until you suddenly were yanked backwards, making you groan out a soft 'oof'.

You turned around to see what was the matter, only to find Kento's gaze focused on a point in the distance, his stare unblinking. You craned your head the other way to see what he was so focused on.

B5.

You heard his respiration hitch and pick up in rate, teetering towards hyperventilating the more he stared at the sign on the wall.

"Hey, hey, hey," you gently cooed, quickly jumping into action to try and prevent a full on panic attack out in the open. You grabbed hold of Kento's face with both of your hands, pulling his gaze away from the sign to bring his eyes down to yours. "Look at me, nothing's going to happen. I promise."

"I...I can't-" his voice sounds strangled.

"Yes, you can. Mahito was exorcised, Yuuji saw it happen himself. You're not as injured as you were before. You're healed. I'm with you, and I'll be with you every step of the way."

Kento visibly relaxed to a certain extent the more you soothe him, your rationality of the situation overpowering his anxiety.

"Here's what's going to happen: we're going to get on the subway, like the many times that we've done before. We're going to ride the subway for six stops until we get to the stop that's ten minutes away from Jujutsu Tech. We'll leave the station, and walk the ten minutes to campus so Shoko can check you out one last time and then we're going to pay Yuuji a visit in his dorm. Don't you need to thank him still?"

He nodded, his shoulders sagging as his head dropped.

"Then let's go, yeah? We’re about to miss our train." You offered him a full hearted smile as you tugged him towards the station.

He let out an apprehensive sigh, letting you guide him forward.

Kento maintained an ironlike grip on your hand as the two of you rode the train, his eye flitting between you and the other passengers, constantly surveying his surroundings in fear that danger would arise at any moment. You silently reassured him by squeezing his hand every so often, your thumb softly stroking the backside of his hand wherever you could reach.

As you expected, the train ride went without a hitch as the car rolled to a stop at your desired destination. He maintained his hold on your hand as you climbed the stairs out of the subway station, slowly but surely releasing some of the tension in his grip.

"See? What'd I tell you?" You leaned up to peck his cheek, reaching the top of the stairs.

"We're having Ijichi drive us back," he grumbled, a scowl forming on his face.

"Ijichi's out attending to a mission with Panda. And besides, this is good exposure therapy for you."

"Ugh."

The appointment with Shoko also went without any issues, with her performing a full body examination on Kento, testing his movements and reflexes on his left side, while getting updates on how he was faring back home. Shoko also let out a low hum of approval at the mention of Kento getting back onto the subway. She signed off on his case file, granting him full permission to get back out into the field, though, all parties in the conversation knew that the possibility of that actually happening was few and far between.

Yuuji was ecstatic to see the two of you standing outside of his dorm, yelping out a lively "Nanamin!" as he launched himself onto Kento, engulfing him into a bear hug.

Kento, taking it all in stride, chuckled and patted the back of Yuuji's head with his free hand. "Hello, Itadori-kun."

The young boy wasted no time, pulling the two of you into his dorm room, filling you in on everything that had gone on campus, mainly sticking around Toge, Panda, and Megumi as everyone was still trying to recover from the grand scale attack that was Shibuya. You had learned of the fates of Nobara and Maki, Kento softly exhaling out a breath that he didn't even realize that he was holding in, now knowing that Maki was alive and well, just recovering from extreme burns like he had been, as well as Nobara also narrowly escaping death from Mahito, permanently blinding her from her left eye.

Both girls were still in recovery. Kento made mental notes to himself to check in on them whenever his schedule would allow him to. He also made a mental note to scold Nobara whenever he would get the chance to, now remembering that he had instructed both her and Nitta to stay behind and wait for help after he had saved them from the fool with the hand for sword.

"Come over for dinner on Sunday? I'll make your favorite dish, whatever it is," you asked Yuuji as you and Kento headed towards the door, planning on taking your leave.

"Yes, please, Mrs. Nanami! I would love to!"

"Good. You need a proper meal and I know that the convenience store ramen and snacks aren't doing a good enough job of keeping you healthy and strong. The door is open whenever you would like to come over."

As you turned to open the door, you were stopped by an "Oh, wait, Nanamin!"

Kento looked over his shoulder to see Yuuji rummaging through his bedside drawer, before picking up an object that was small enough to fit into the palm of his hand.

"I remember the last time I visited your apartment, you had mentioned that Nanamin had lost his wedding ring. So... I figured... y'know?"

Yuuji presented with an open palm, the wedding ring that Kento had been missing since the 31st of October.

"Itadori-kun..." Kento gasped, fully facing Yuuji now as he grabbed the piece of jewelry out of his hand. "How... how did you find this?" He turned the ring all over, inspecting it to find your initials and the date of your wedding inscribed on the inside of his band, thus cementing the fact that it was his wedding band.

"I went back to the Shibuya station and checked all of the lost and founds that were available there," Yuuji answered brightly, watching with joy as Kento slipped the ring into his suit jacket pocket. "When I couldn't find it there, I searched all of the floors and just... got lucky, I guess."

"You have no idea how happy this has made me, Itadori-kun," Kento beamed at Yuuji, reaching forward to pull him into a hug. "Thank you."

Yuuji wordlessly accepted the hug, resting his chin on his shoulder as he squeezed him back.

You watched the scene unfold, a sense of warmth spreading through your chest.

You reminisced on the moments that you and Yuuji shared when Kento was still in the infirmary, thinking on how much Yuuji came to care for him, not just as his mentor, but as a father figure, one that he never got to experience for himself. You knew how much he valued your husband's opinion, and desperately wanted to earn his respect.

He must have been over the moon.

Kento pulled away, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. "See you Sunday, yeah?"

"Yeah. Of course, Nanamin. I'll see you and Mrs. Nanami there."

"Alright. Take care of yourself, Itadori-kun."

As you left the main building and ventured into the courtyard, heading to the main entrance of Jujutsu Tech, Kento stopped you, as he dug back into his suit jacket.

"Here." He presented you with his ring. "I want you to do it."

With careful fingers, you gingerly took the ring from him and slid it back onto his left fourth digit. You peered up at him. "How are you feeling, Ken?"

He swooped his left hand with yours and brought it up to his lips, placing a kiss to the back of it.

"Like a million yen, my love."

And this time, he truly meant it.