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holybibly · 4 months ago

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The unholy hour of the day, my sugar bunnies: Weirdo nerd Seonghwa has had a fondness for you for a long time, perhaps too much to be normal. So when he sees you on a crowded subway carriage, he takes the opportunity to pay his respects to you.

Warnings: Pervert nerd! Seonghwa, sub!reader, non-consensual groping, dubious consent, obsessive crush, light yandere, forced masturbation, light dub con

'Please be careful; the doors are closing'. The monotonous, mechanical voice of the underground's automated announcement system echoes through the carriage, almost completely lost in the noise of the crowd. The tube is packed, but at this time of day, that's to be expected. You hated taking the train at rush hour, but unfortunately your classes always ended at that time, and you had no choice but to use the Tube to get home, even though it felt like hell at that time, rather than a comfortable and fast ride.

You always travelled the same way. Day after day, month after month, and in all this time nothing has changed about your trip. Firstly, the subway was always crowded, and having lived in Seoul for the last two years, you'd already gotten used to that. Secondly, there are never any seats when you get on, so you always have to stand. You even somehow managed to put up with the fact that you were always being pushed or squeezed into a corner, which you managed to squeeze into despite the carriage being almost full.

Today was no different at all. You let out a heavy sigh and made your way to the nearest available handrail in the far corner as you were pushed for what seemed like the hundredth time when the carriage doors hissed open and a new stream of passengers poured in. You grabbed hold of the cold metal handrail, trying to take up as little space as possible, while other passengers squeezed past you or kept changing their position in an attempt to get the most convenient and comfortable seat. Someone's elbow is resting on your rib, and you frown, trying to move as far away as possible, which only makes you squeeze harder into the corner. But there's not enough room, and you shriek slightly as the pressure on your ribs increases. The girl next to you bows her head, apologising as she hears this, and moves away from you, finally allowing you to breathe normally. You let out another sigh, clutching your bag tightly to your chest and gripping the handrail even tighter as the train continues to rush forward.

Just a little longer, you say to yourself, eight more stops to go and you'll finally be able to get out of here.

Once again you hear the mechanical hissing of the doors and the automated voice warning the passengers to be more careful, and it seems to you that the carriage has become even more cramped, but it still does not prevent you from trying to adapt in some way. Dozens of people get on and off at each stop, and you're pushed again, but this time relatively gently. It doesn't matter anyway, you're used to it and ready to just brush it off, but someone's broad, cold hand rests on your bare thigh, just where the edge of your pleated skirt ends. For a second, you feel the stranger's fingers slide over your soft skin under your short skirt, and your breath catches in your throat, your heart beginning to beat faster with each passing moment. This can't be happening, can it? Maybe you're just imagining it? The stranger's cold touch on your thighs fades away as suddenly as it came, but it's enough to make you feel the cold lingering on your skin for a long time afterwards.

"You're so beautiful." A soft, velvety voice whispers from behind you, and you almost jump at the sound. 'So beautiful…' The carriage you're in is packed to the point that you can barely turn your head back to look at whoever that voice belongs to, which one makes goosebumps crawl across your skin. Your eyes widen as you see behind you none other than university oddish nerd Park Seonghwa, who is literally trapping you in a crowded subway car. He's too close to you. Close enough to be intimate.

Not that you had a bad opinion of Seonghwa; no, he was a relatively nice and harmless guy, but there was still something about him that made people stay away from him. Maybe it was the too intense and focused look in his dark cat eyes, or maybe it was his slightly odd behaviour that was hard to explain; either way, Park Seonghwa was not popular, even though he was pretty, and not just pretty, but really handsome, as if sculpted by the hand of a great master. Another thing that put people off him was that he was a real nerd and had an obsession with Lego and Animal Crossing. You didn't see much of him in your classes, even though you were in the same study group as him; from what you heard, he was in an advanced class and was more likely to jerk off to textbooks than girls. In general, you didn't know much about him other than the gossip you heard from your friends.

''S-Seonghwa, let me go, please…'' Your voice trembles slightly as you turn to him. There is a strange expression frozen on his handsome face, one that you are unable to decipher. He looks drunk—his big eyes are blurry and unfocused, his mouth is open from heavy breathing, his cheeks are flushed, and there is a bead of sweat on his forehead. There is obviously something wrong with him, but Seonghwa is a good guy, isn't he? He wouldn't do anything to hurt you, or at least you wanted to believe that.

You don't hear him answer as the train makes a sharp turn and Seonghwa pushes you against the wall of the carriage, his body pressed tightly against yours. You freeze, like a mouse caught in the claws of a cat, as you feel his cold hands squeeze your soft, plump thighs, right under your buttocks. You tug at the hem of your skirt in an attempt to push Seonghwa's hands away from you, but he doesn't let you go; instead, his fingers dig harder into your flesh even more, and you're sure you'll be bruised afterwards. You feel the fast, erratic beating of his heart against your back as he leans into you, as if he's trying to melt into you, to become one with your body.

"I'm sorry…' He whispers to you again, his hot breath brushing your ear and his sensual, full lips touching your soft, thin skin with each letter. You've always admired his lips—so full and kissable—and you've even wondered what they would feel like when he kissed you, but right now you wish you could erase that touch from your skin forever. Something hard and intimidatingly large presses against your lower back as he grips your hips tighter, literally piling on top of you. The sickly sweet smell of strawberries and cream invades all of your senses, and you find yourself trapped between the dirty wall of the subway car and the hard, hot body of Seonghwa. You've never noticed how tall he is compared to you—you're invisible behind him; nobody can see what he's doing to you. "I'm so sorry, but there's nothing I can do about it… You're too beautiful… too beautiful for me to control myself. I'm so sorry…' He lowers his head onto your shoulder, his long black hair tickling the skin on your neck as you stare unblinkingly into the dirty wall, terror running through you to the bone, rendering you completely immobile as Seonghwa pushes his hips into you, fucking your arse on the crowded train like a dog in heat.

Your lips begin to tremble, hot tears gathering in your eyes, threatening to spill out and run down your cheeks, smearing your make-up, as Seonghwa's one hand slides up the curve of your hip and higher up your waist, your ribs, over the thin lace of your bra to cradle your right tit.

'Oh fuck...' Seonghwa hisses as he squeezes the soft flesh of your breast in the palm of his hand. His fingers pull the cup of your bra down so that your tit is completely exposed. "Exactly as I thought... your tits are so big and soft. I want to fuck them so badly. I want to come on your tits; cover them with my sperm. I want to suck on your fucking tits while you are riding on me, angel." He continues to rub his cock against your plump buttocks, whimpering into your skin.

'N-no, please don't, Seonghwa. Please stop it...' You sob, hoping that your pathetic pleas will bring him to his senses. But it seems to have the exact opposite effect, making him even more aroused. You tremble at his touch as Seonghwa continues fucking you, his rough hand caressing your naked breasts, his hard cock sliding between your buttocks through his jeans and skirt.

"Please move away from the doors." The train stops, the mechanical hiss of the doors hissing through the crowd. You pray that Hwa will let you go, but he doesn't. For a moment, he stops pushing into you and keeps you pressed up against the wall. His breath is unpleasantly warm against your ear, making you shiver.

'Seonghwa...' You try once more. "Seonghwa, please let me go. I won't tell anyone... I promise. Please leave me alone..." The tears begin to flow freely down your face as you continue to beg him to let you go. But Seonghwa is completely unresponsive; instead, he starts to leave wet, smeared kisses on your neck. His lips are soft, too soft, like down pillows, unpleasantly slippery and wet from copious amounts of saliva mixed with lip balm as cloying strawberry as he is. From the outside, you probably look like a couple deeply in love. Seonghwa is protective, wrapped around you like a snake, and to everyone else, he looks like a caring guy. If only they knew...

The thought of screaming crosses your mind, but it disappears as quickly as it appeared when the train starts moving again and Hwa slips his other hand under your shirt and wraps it around your left breast. His hand greedily squeezes the soft flesh over the thin lace of your bra before he pulls it down as well, exposing your tits to the full extent. You hate yourself for the fact that his touch is causing your nipples to begin to tense and your pussy to clench around nothing. You've always been hypersensitive, and that's generally nothing unusual, but this situation...

You shouldn't react like this; you don't want Seonghwa to touch you; you don't want to feel his hands on your body, but then why are you biting your lip and trying your best to suppress the obscene sounds that are coming out of your mouth right now?

"That's it, Angel. I'll make you feel good. I'll be worshipping you, pretty girl, the way I've always wanted to be. And you can't blame me for that; you've got everything to blame yourself for. You're too beautiful, too beautiful for me to let you go..." Seonghwa's hands, gently rocking your breasts as if he could feel the weight of them, his fingers running over your aureoles, stimulating you while avoiding your swollen nipples.

You sob loudly as you feel your pussy getting wetter by the second. You don't want to give in to the pleasure that is growing deep inside you, especially not in the presence of so many people and even less so in Seonghwa's hands, but there is nothing you can do about it. He gives you a sharp pinch on your nipples as the mechanical voice announces the name of the next stop, and it covers up the moan that escapes from your lips.

"You feel so good, angel." He whispers to you in a velvety voice. "Your little nipples are so hard and tender. I want to take them into my mouth and suck them until you come. I'm sure I can make you come just from that." Seonghwa's voice is full of dark promise, and it makes more and more moisture pour out of your hole. Shame washes over you like a wave, and you cover your eyes, trying to come to terms with the unwanted pleasure that is growing inside of you. You clench your hands tighter around your bag as Hwa continues to play with your breasts. Squeezing and massages them, rubbing and pinching your nipples, at the same time leaving hot, painful hickeys on your neck. "You were made for me, my angel. I always knew it. I knew it the moment I saw you." One of his hands releases your breasts and slides down your body. Your eyes go wide in horror as you realise where Seonghwa's hand is going, but it's too late because... He slides his hand easily between your thighs, wrapping your pussy, over the lace of the thong, whose fabric is soaked with your slime.

"Look at you; you're all wet for me."

'I-I'm not, please, just stop...' For the first time since Seonghwa cornered you, you try to resist him. Your hand trembles as you try to pull his hand off your cunt, but Hwa just pushes it away. Then you start to wriggle in his grip, trying to push him away from you, but it doesn't help. Seonghwa is bigger and stronger than you, and all your movements instead make you rub your wet pussy harder against his palm between your thighs.

"Don't be embarrassed about it, angel. You just have to admit that you want it just as much as I do."

The train stops again, and Seonghwa takes the opportunity to pull the wet lace of your thong aside, exposing your smooth, plump pussy to his touch. You can't hold back a moan as his fingers outline a figure of eight around your clit.

"Please... Seonghwa... you don't have to do this." You sob, lowering your head to somehow hide the way your cheeks are flushed from everything he's doing to you.

'But how can I, angel? You're so ready for me...' He pulls his hand away from your pussy for a second and brings them up to your face. You watch in horror as he spreads his fingers, pulling strands of your arousal between them before they break apart, coating his long appendages with your stickiness. "You see that? Your slutty pussy is all wet and sticky; how can I ignore it?" You barely manage to hold back a loud moan as Seonghwa slides his hand down and, without any preamble, pushes two fingers into your wet cunt. The stretching stings, but with it comes pleasure. It's clouds your mind and overshadows any sense of decency or shame. Seonghwa begins to fuck you, twisting his fingers inside you and stroking your slippery, trembling walls with slightly calloused fingertips. Over the din of the other passengers' voices, you can almost hear the squelching of your unacceptably wet pussy.

"You are so tight, my angel. I should stretch your cunt before you take my cock. I'll do my best; we don't want your sweet pussy to be in pain, do we?" With these words, Seonghwa inserts another finger into you.

Everything in you shrinks in shame as the pleasure becomes too much to ignore—your legs spread so Hwa can fuck you harder and deeper, his finger pads pressed against your sweet spot, and your eyes roll back at the sharp pleasure coursing through your body.

It's disgusting, no, it's more than disgusting, and deep inside you despise yourself for giving yourself up to him so easily, for not putting up any resistance at all to Seonghwa, for letting him fuck you so expertly with his long fingers.

#ateez smut #kpop smut #atz smut #ateez hard hours #ateez unholy hours #smut #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #park seonghwa smut #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader

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murdrdocs · 1 year ago

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perv!wally clark bc now i can let these thoughts out and i know someone will listen

perv!wally who has sexual needs even while he’s dead. he used to struggle but the day he saw you walk into the school with your little short skirt and your thigh high stockings his struggles suddenly ended. the nights of having to pray that a horny high schooler would leave behind a playboy by accident turned into nights of imagining himself buried deep inside of you. perv!wally who sneaks into the girls locker room before and after your gym class to be able to catch even a peek of you undressing and changing into the shortest gym shorts known to man- not that he minds how short they are. wally clark the panty stealing ghost of the girls locker room because they’re not really gone, he just gets a copy to release into as much as we wants needs to

oh this is sick in all the right ways MDNI 18+

he's not even made aware of your existence on purpose. truthfully.

one day he's sitting outside since it's a beautiful day, watching the way the wind blows the leaves in the trees, hoping that someone drives by with their window down and plays a song he actually knows, and then he sees you. taking your time getting out of your car, slinging your bag over your back, walking into the school doors an entire period late. but that's not what interests him about you. many high schoolers have skipped first period.

what attracts wally is your outfit. it's halloween, the school has allowed costumes to an extent, and he'd been able to recognize some of the other ones. but yours seems familiar. it's on the tip of his tongue. and he decides thats what it's driving him crazy. not because he's insanely attracted to the tiny black pleated skirt, knee high sheer black socks, and the white button up you have tied to show your navel.

he follows you around school that day. only to jog his memory of what the costume is. and then he's in the cafeteria with charley, staring at your pigtails that bob as you excitedly talk with your friends, and charley offhandedly compliments you with a "britney spears. nice", and wally is far too excited about the reference. totally only about the reference and not because you happened to drop your phone right in front of him, bending down to get it without a second thought. besides, only the pillar would see your panties. right?

his obsession appreciation for you started then. and it never really stopped.

he followed you around that day, always pretending to simply be roaming around the halls he knows so well if one of the others caught him. he was just taking in what he could, maybe saving some images for the spank bank if he ran low on what he already had. but then, you happened to get dress coded during 4th period, and wally just happened to have followed you into the locker room to change, and he just happened catch a full look of the red lace panties he only caught a glimpse of earlier in the day.

and if he wasn't addicted before. he was then.

guilt starts to eat at him after the initial look of you stripped down to your intimates, so he sticks to watching you in the halls. just admiring the way the jeans of the 2020s hug your ass and the way your shirt hugs your tits. he promises himself that he won't be a complete weirdo anymore. but then you're scrolling through your hidden images through your phone, and wally has always had a problem with being nosy, so he just couldn't help staring over your shoulder. and if he hadn't seen the lewd images you had saved of yourself, then he wouldn't have started following you into the locker room again. honest!

but he ends up there anyway, sitting on one of the benches as you get naked and then redress, only to put on shorts that have only gotten smaller since his time at split river high.

it's like clockwork.

you have bio, you go to the locker room, you undress and redress, you participate, you come back to the locker room, you undress and redress, then you go to calc. and wally is there for it all. he ogles at your body. he watches you get just a little sweaty. then he follows you to calc where he stares at how pretty your face is when you're concentrating.

that's it. he's just visually appreciating. he's an appreciative person. but maybe a little bit too appreciative. because there's one day, just one lucky day, where you have to change panties. you're one of the only people left in the locker room, you and one of your friends who's lacing up her boots but wally has never cared about her. you pull out a pair of panties from your bag, you gnaw on your bottom lip, and wally is already salivating as he puts two and two together.

he gulps. he tries to avoid palming his cock already.

"turn around i have to change underwear," you tell your friend, who immediately does as told. and wally feels like maybe he actually has crossed over and this is his heaven.

because not only is he getting to see your bottom half completely bare, but you fling your panties onto the bench, right beside your backpack which is right beside wally. and he would be a complete idiot if he let this moment pass. the opportunity has practically landed in his lap.

so he reaches over, picks them up and stuffs them in his pocket, and enjoys the rest of the show. you tuck the used pair in your bag, slip your jeans back on along with your shoes, and then leave for calc.

but wally stays behind this time.

#celeste's chats #wally clark x reader #wally clark x you #wally clark smut #wally clark fluff #wally clark #school spirits #celeste writes misc

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madamechrissy · 29 days ago

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Fractured Desires

ꕥ Pairings: Satoru Gojo x Reader

ꕥ Content warnings-MDNI-explicit sexual content, threesomes/ foursomes/ complicated shit, infidelity. Abusive gaslighting Suguru. Yandere Gojo behavior. In this chapter- Rough sex, bdsm, whipping, videoing against consent (kinda lol) oral, rough kissing, mommy/daddy kink, misogyny high key, choking, objectification, obsessive crazy PSYCHO stalker SATORU but he's hot. And reader likes it

ꕥ Word Count this chap- 10k

ꕥ Summary- You meet Suguru Geto at your work, he is charming, gorgeous, and has a poly lifestyle. You jump in, and you all share women and have way too much fun. But then it's starting to get serious between you, official even. He can't wait to have you meet his best friend. But... Satoru Gojo hates you. The minute you meet. He gives you no reason, but he's nasty to you, no matter what you try. Suguru finally has enough of Satoru being so mean and brings up the idea - 'let's have you two fuck this frustration out'

Satoru hates you because deep down wants to make you his. He doesn't understand how Suguru could ever want anyone but you. Though it's a bad idea, he agrees to share you with Suguru for a chance at you and... The moment he touches you... Rules are bent and broken, Suguru develops feelings for another girl, and Satoru gets further obsessed with you. Nothing is as it seemed. Will everyone get hurt?

Split btwn Satoru's POV and yours

Chapter 8 ꕥ Masterlist ꕥ Playlist

Final Chapter- Chapter 9 (will have an epilogue some time <3)

Your POV

Three weeks later

“There, f-fuck!” You cry out as Satoru’s got you bouncing up and down his cock in his office, he’s leaned back in his chair, your skirt bunched up on your hips, he’s using it to pull you down, shoving against your cervix.

“Shut that pretty mouth, slutty brat.” He whispers, a hand over your mouth as he rolls his hips, grinding, and you’re screaming into it, hands clutching the cherry wood of his desk. “Can’t keep quiet, I won't let you cum, I’ll just bust in you.”

“Mmm.” You whine, looking at him with big eyes, and he chuckles a bit, lifting his hand and kissing you, tongues slipping together, your breath coming in little pants.

“You really think I would ever not let you cum?” He whispers, reaching a hand around to toy with your clit, which twitches under his touch, your body jerking. You shake your head, rolling your hips for more of that friction.

“N-no, I know… you… Toru!”

“That’s it.” He stands then, bending you over the desk, and takes the panties around your ankles, sliding them off your ankles, before shoving them in your mouth. You try to yank them out, but he’s got your two hands behind you now, your wrists in his big grip. “Gotta shut that pretty mouth.”

He smacks your ass then, pushing your entire body up on the desk, your legs dangling, so he could get your hips where he wants, fucking you so hard you can’t function. His thick length is stretching you out so good you can’t stand it, crying out against the fabric of the panties, shivering as the cold vent of his office blows cool air on bare skin, so overheated from his play.

You’ve been in Satoru Gojo’s office so, so many times, but never like this, you’d been with Suguru then, and you and Suguru had fucked in his office, but god it was nothing like this. Like him overtaking you, owning you, fucking your body and your mind up so goddamn good. Satoru’s pouty pink lips are against your ear now, his breathy moans washing through you.

“Feel so fucking perfect, god I love you.” Your eyes roll back, as he slows, pulling you up by your ponytail, to arch your back, as he shoves in deep.

“Mmm!” You want to say it back, that you love him, as your cunt is dripping down Satoru’s lengthy cock,

“Can’t say it back, just mumbling, huh? Pathetic little barbie? Oh so wet, thinking about that friend?” He’s teasing you, and you spit out your panties then, glaring back at him.

“Oh, fuck you, Toru- mmm!” He flips you then, your pink pleated skirt a wrinkled fucking mess, as he presses you down on the desk, smirking.

“I won’t give you anymore threesomes, slutty girl.”

“I only want you, psychotic ass.” You whisper back, and his blue eyes glitter then, as he tilts your chin up with two fingers, kissing you softly, his free hand wrapping around your waist, pulling you against his hard body, clothed in a fancy three piece suit, looking so fucking good.

“Only me, forever.” He whispers against your mouth now, and you nod, gasping when his cock slides in easier now, inch by inch, your soppy little cunt sucking him in. Your hands cling to him, crumpling the expensive material of his jacket, as he kisses you over and over. “Say it for me.”

“Only you, only you Toru.” You hear him then, that little sound from the back of his throat, as your pussy is fluttering around him, tightening when the tip is dragging on your g spot.

“Never leave me, please.” His words are pleading, as his eyes shut, and he loses himself in you, on you, rolling his hips and making you closer and closer, that pressure in your tummy building more and more.

“How could I? You’re Toru.” He exhales, one hand braced on the desk, the other grabbing your thigh, pulling it over his hip and pressing in so deep, his eyes studying you intensely, fuck everything about Toru was intense, wasn’t it? It always had been, even before you got this side of him.

“I could have been doing this.” He whispers then, the coldness of his gold watch making you gasp as it presses into the muscles of your thigh now, as he bends it even higher. Your pussy sucks him right in, making Satoru tense just a bit now, slowing even more, pulling you closer so more of him could be inside of you.

“Wish you… wish you had… wish we…” You can’t finish any of your quiet sentence, not when Satoru looks at you like that, not when he feels so fucking good on you, in you, surrounding you.

“Nothing existed before me, did it? Nothing, say it pretty fucking brat.” He’s squishing your ass in his free hand now, you feel him thickening when he pumps in again, and you have to cover your mouth not to scream as you’re cumming. “Oh f-fuck… no, say it.”

He yanks your hand down, and you struggle to breathe, the orgasm washing over you, but Satoru’s got that insane look, as he takes you on his desk. “Nothing.”

“Nothing exists but me in your pretty mind?”

“Nothing but you.” Your words are cut off by his big hand, while he fucks you hard again, you scream and droll against his palm, pussy gripping him so good he throws his own head back, snowy lashes fluttering shut.

“Feel so perfect, made f’me, all mine. Mine. Me.” He’s looking back at you as he repeats his insane mantra, your brows knit together, your body so overheated, you’re shaking violently now, legs struggling to grip his slender hips. “Nod, you’re too fuckin loud.”

You nod, and he exhales, as your head falls back, smacking his desk hard, but you don’t even notice, how can you? When your psychotic boyfriend is fucking you so good right next to your ex boyfriend’s office. It took a lot of convincing for you to come here, to see Suguru’s sad expression, and Satoru’s devious grin as he locked you in the office and shut the blinds.

But you’d do anything he wanted, when he looks at you like that, when he pleasures you like this, when he says those words-

“Mine, all mine. Aren’t you baby?” You nod again, his hand pressing firmer, muffling your cries, but you can hear your wet squelching noises as his cock strokes in and out mixing with the whirling of the fan. “Want all this cum? Gonna make me a Dad, aren’t you?”

Your pussy clenches in response as you nod once more, then he’s groaning, filling your full, coating your walls with his hot ropes of cum. You’re cumming just from his cum, it’s so warm and gooey inside you, and him throbbing in you, you scream your pleasure into his hand, but he releases it then, replacing it with his lips. You taste his sweetness, the mints he’d been sucking on, tears pricking your eyes.

“Toru, l-love you s’much.” You murmur, all fucked out and looking up at him with glimmering tears. He exhales, kissing you over and over, thumbs rubbing on the apples of your cheeks.

“I love you, perfect slut for me, aren’t you?” You nod weakly, it’s all you can do, pathetic for this man, heart pounding in your ears as your body tries to calm itself, failing in his presence. He pulls out then, and you’re dripping down to his pretty gray carpet, Satoru smirks then, shoving his two fingers in your sore hole.

“Mmm, Satoru can’t take anymore.” He presses you back on the desk, pushing your legs up against you now.

“If we’re gonna make a baby you need to keep it in longer.” You’re crying at the overstimulation, his fingers shoving cum and pushing it back in. “You’re so fucking pretty like this, cum dripping out of your pussy, tears out of your eyes, drool out of those lips. Pretty little mess.”

Suddenly there is a knock on the door, and Satoru sighs, quickly grabbing you tissues and wiping you up. “Shit…”

“It’s fine. One minute.” He says loudly, sliding your panties up you, giving your pussy just a little kiss and smirking up at you then. “Gonna be dripping all day, aren’t you baby?”

“Oh stop! Ow, sore.” You wince as he helps you stand on wobbly legs, fucking Satoru constantly was not easy, by any means. “I need a break.”

“From dick? Fuck no.” He snorts then, making you glare, and making him glare down at you, as the door knocks again. “I said coming!”

You smooth your skirt down now, he’s got it all crumpled in places from using it as leverage. Hopeless wrinkles you’re frowning at while he is adjusting himself and straightening out his dark suit, slicking back his hair. You reach up carefully, smoothing it further with your fingers, watching his eyes flutter shut in bliss.

“Hedgehog.” You tease, earning another glare from your psychotic, very attractive boyfriend. You just giggle.

“I’ll beat the fuck out of you later, just wait.” Your pussy clenches unwillingly, you stomach tensing up, you bite a lip and he moans softly. “Fucking slutty brat.”

“You’re the slut-”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Mr. Gojo…”

“Jesus christ.” Satoru opens the door then, and you recognize the assistant, the one that Satoru fucked before you two ever got together, the one he turned down with no hesitation. She puts a hand on him and he smacks it away, you try to hide your smile behind your hand.

“Mr. Gojo, I just-”

“Don’t touch me. I’m hers.” He yanks you up to him then, filling your heart so full, Satoru may be a psycho but he loves you, and loves you so much.

She sputters, scowling at you now. You wave. “Hi there, Manami.”

She rolls her eyes. “Whatever.”

“Excuse me, that’s pretty fucking rude. Say hello properly.” Satoru says, leaning down, hands in his pockets. She steps back, eyeing you, and you struggle to contain your amusement.

Fuck you love him.

“So sorry, hello. Mr. Geto would like a moment with you. With both of you.” Satoru and you both look at each other, tense, before he sighs.

“Fine.” He shuts the door on her, looking at you now. “Shit, I may throw him out the fucking window.”

“Toru, don’t do that. He’s left you alone for weeks now, yeah?”

“He says hello though.”

“Well…”

“I hate him.” He speaks through gritted teeth. You nod understandingly, the bliss Satoru and you have had this looming presence of Suguru, even though he had kept his word of leaving you alone, it seems it will always be there. “Fine, let’s see what the fuck he wants.”

Soon you all are in Suguru’s office, he looks tired lately, dark circles under his eyes, and his hair is a mess, he’s not put together like you remember him. He lets a small half smile as he looks at you, and you cannot return it, instead looking down at your feet. Satoru has his arms crossed, so big and tall, your protector always, as he stands just a bit in front of you.

“You look like shit, Suguru.” He says then, and you know Satoru hates him, but deep down you think he cares about the friend he used to have.

Suguru sighs, sitting on his desk and crossing his legs at the ankles. “Yeah well, I feel like shit so.”

“You should.” Satoru says.

“I know. I wanted to tell you both something, thank you for coming.” He stands now, walking toward you both, Satoru’s grip on your waist now tightens as he holds you close, you feel his breath quickening.

You hold his hand gently, smiling at him, he does not return it, his blue eyes full of fury, his jaw tense. “What is it?” He asks Suguru, looking at him now.

Suguru sighs, chocolate eyes showing many emotions, different than the unfeeling ones you’ve been so used to, looking at your face again. “I am leaving to start another office in Kyoto, I’ll leave Tokyo next week.”

You both pause then, blinking in confusion, looking at each other, then back at him. “You what?”

“I’m leaving. I feel it will be best for you all, not to have to see me.” His voice breaks a bit, so he clears his throat, tugging on the knot of his tie.

Satoru’s lips are parted, and he then exhales, his shoulders relaxing just slightly. “You’re leaving, really?”

“Yes.”

“Couldn’t you go to like Antarctica? Kyoto is too close.” He says, and Suguru chuckles a bit without humor.

“Satoru…” You say, and he just smirks when he looks at you.

“What!?”

“That’s fair. I am not going to be communicating with you, however, and I’ll be taking Manami with me. I know she’s a bit of an annoyance.” Satoru scoffs a bit, shaking his head now.

“You’re acting like some great man, when you’re still a piece of shit. Like you’re giving us some gift by fucking off.” He grips you so tightly you wince, and Suguru’s face falls at his words. You almost feel sorry, but you remember what he’s done, even though it’s hard to see him that way.

The things he’s done to Satoru, and to you, are truly heinous, the entirety of you knowing him had been a lie, a game for him, you were just a pawn in his game of chess, and now he’s finally admitted Satoru’s checkmate. In a way you’re relieved he’s leaving, because you know his presence weighs on you both, but also you wonder, was there good in him somewhere?

Satoru always says you are too kind, and perhaps he is right, maybe you want to see a goodness in everyone, one that was not really there. Maybe you wished things were different, that Satoru could have his best friend, that he had not done such terrible and cruel things, but this was the reality.

“We will only need to speak of business remotely, and I’ll have communicators run between us. Essentially, I’ll be out of your lives as much as I can be.” Suguru continues, shaking you out of your thoughts, as you three stand in his office.

You remember the day everything changed with you all, when Satoru had that birthday, and you were in Suguru’s arms, what was a couple weeks ago felt a lifetime ago, ages and ages. When you’d hugged Satoru and he’d been a dick, and you’d went to that game and thought he hated you, only to find out it was the opposite, Satoru had made himself hate you.

To be a loyal friend, a good friend, a best friend.

One Suguru Geto was never to him, well, not since they were quite young, many years back. Satoru acted tough but you know it still hurt, to have the man he thought was a brother be so false, so malicious. You could see the toll it took, how Satoru clings to you even more, seeking your comfort along with the passion and love you both share with each other.

“You’re bailing because Shoko left town.”

Suguru’s jaw tenses. “Shoko will not even talk to me, perhaps ever again, so no I’m not leaving for that.”

“Good.”

“Yes, good.” He sighs, running a hand through his dark locks, covering his face for a moment then. “I hate myself for it all.”

“Good, I hate you too.” Satoru continues, stepping forward, but you pause him then, earning his scowl at you.

“Satoru let him finish. He’s clearly trying… to be… decent.” You manage to say, and they both study you, in shock.

“You’re too nice, I swear to god it annoys me.” Satoru mutters, Suguru’s eyes waver a bit, he blinks his dark lashes, stepping a little closer now, tilting his head and looking at you.

“You are too nice. But, I’m glad Satoru has you.”

“What now!?” Satoru demands. Suguru just looks back at him.

“You need someone sweet and kind, you’re a dick.” Satoru snorts a bit, and for a moment you see that friendship they had, but it’s over in a moment.

“Fuck you, don’t think we’ll ever be okay.” Satoru’s words are low and serious. Suguru gives a little nod.

“I know that. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I was such a shitty fucking friend, you didn’t deserve it, even with your mistake. I should have expressed myself, rather than hold it in, let it change me.”

“What you’re in therapy? Fuck you.” Satoru shoves at him now, Suguru does nothing, looking too exhausted.

“I am just deep in thought, alone. I’m sorry, Satoru. Truly. I get it if you never forgive me, but I wanted to say it before I leave.” Satoru just scoffs, turning away then, heading to the door and snatching your wrist.

“Yeah well good riddance, I don’t have shit to say.”

“Can I talk to her alone for a moment?” Satoru looks at him in complete anger and shock, his mouth wide open.

“No you can’t, the fuck, remember last time you were alone. Think I’d ever risk her again?”

“I won’t ever hurt her again, I swear it. There’s just something I need to apologize to her about, if you’ll both let me.” He looks between you both, and you gently touch Satoru’s face, feeling his anger fuming.

“I’ll be fine, Satoru. He’s leaving. Let me hear what he has to say.” You whisper softly, earning him gripping you tightly by the shoulders, bending low.

“Fuck no. I can’t risk you.”

“I swear it, I will not hurt her. I just… need to say something.” Satoru rolls his pretty blue eyes, studying you carefully.

“I will cut him piece by piece if he says or does anything in any way rude. Suguru I’ll feed you to fucking-”

“It’s alright, I’ll be fine. He can’t hurt me, I have you.” You say softly, and lean up to kiss Satoru’s pouty pink lips. He grips you tightly, pressing you against him, sliding his tongue in and devouring you right in front of Suguru.

You cry out softly, as his other hand slips up to the back of your neck, fingers entangling in your hair, pulling back just slightly. “You’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Toru.” He nods a bit, then his jaw tenses again while he looks at Suguru, his grip in your hair tight before his hands fall.

“You can say what you need, I’ll be right outside this door. Don’t you dare fucking-”

“I swear it.”

“Your word isn’t shit.” Satoru walks out then, and you cross your arms, tilting your head as Suguru stands there, looking at you.

“What do you want to say? You have a death wish.” A small smile plays on his lips then, as you walk up to him, keeping a distance.

��I clearly do. I wanted to truly apologize, not that half ass apology where I… fuck, where I smacked you.” He walks forward, touching the air beside your cheek, sighing and shaking his head.

“Yeah, that was kind of a shitty ass apology. And insincere.”

“I know. It wasn’t one you deserved, not when I’ve hurt you more than anyone, even more than Satoru.”

“I don’t know… I think the years of not truly being his friend hurt him more.”

“I always loved him, I love him now. I just… let my hate consume me, and now I know how deep I hurt him, and you and I…” His eyes glimmer then, surprising you as a sheen of moisture coats them.

“Why did you let it go on so long?” You ask, arms falling, but you’re now fiddling with your skirt nervously, finding it hard to be alone with him, remembering what he had done to you makes you sick.

“I don’t know, I really don’t. Looking back none of this was worth it, I should have just forgiven him fully or ended our friendship. Now I’m alone, and I deserve it.”

“You do deserve it. At least to be alone from Shoko and Satoru.”

“And you.”

You laugh then, without humor, a small little sound. “You never even liked me, be honest.”

“That’s not true. And you know it.”

“I know nothing about you really. And I was naive, to just fall into your arms, but I had shit self esteem, and a lot of issues, and you seemed so perfect. You seemed to truly find me special, and you didn’t at all.” You feel your own emotions again, shoving them down, gulping with a dry throat.

His lips part, lips you used to kiss, lips that spilt lies, and you try not to fully hate him, but it’s almost impossible. He had played you for months, and prevented what could have been beautiful from the start with Gojo. He had kissed you and taken your virginity, said you could trust him, how can you ever fully forgive that, even if you’re trying to hear him out.

He doesn’t really deserve forgiveness, but for some reason, you think of how long he’s known Satoru, since sixth fucking grade, and you wonder if there’s good in there, but it’s not your worry anymore. You know that Satoru is hurt by him, but there is not going to be forgiveness ever from Satoru, and you can’t blame him, Satoru loves you too much to let even Suguru hurt you.

Suguru’s shoulders slump, as he steps a little closer, watching you tense. “I won’t hurt you ever again.”

“Maybe so, but I’m still fucking traumatized.”

“I know. I hate myself for touching you like that, it’s nothing I have ever done, and I know it hurt you, scared you. Fuck I’m sorry. I will hate that forever.”

“Yes well.” You look away then, to his desk, a desk he’d fucked you on, licked you on, one you used to kiss him and laugh on. But now it’s all disgusting, every memory makes you sick, it’s all distorted. “Thanks for your apology, but it doesn’t really change anything.”

“I know. But I just needed to tell you, you were worth so much more than that, some fucking game for me. You adored me, you were sweet, you were so caring and thoughtful. You deserved better for your first time, than a lie, than a man not interested in you for more than a nice body and revenge.”

You can’t stop the tears that fall from your eyes, you swipe at them, irritated, taking shaky breaths. “I have more now, I have Toru.” You whisper, and his own tears fall, as he nods a bit, swiping at them himself.

“You do. And you should have from the beginning. I’m happy for you both, that you have each other. You are a sweet, beautiful soul, you really are, and you make him better. You two had a connection I could always feel, even if I actively tried to prevent it, one that when I started feeling things for you infuriated me. It made me so angry you chose him.”

“If you weren’t a piece of shit I would have stayed, even with my feelings.”

“I know, because you’re loyal, and I never was.”

“No you were not. I’m almost thankful I heard you and Shoko.”

He blinks. “Thankful?”

You nod then, taking a breath. “Yes, because I learned who you really were, not what I thought. I told everyone, Suguru is perfect he’s so good to me, he spoils me, he loves me. I realized that night you did not give a fuck about me.”

“I did not care enough, it’s true. You were just a pretty pawn in my game.” You nod then, swiping more tears. “I will never forgive myself for hurting you, for using you, especially for touching you when you didn’t want it. I am so sorry, truly. I will never be able to apologize enough, but please know I regret it all.”

Suguru brushes a lock of your hair behind your ear, and you step back, eyes looking at him in confusion, in fear, and he sees it, sighing.

“You’re afraid of me.”

“Yes, I am.” You admit, even if he’s remorseful, the images won’t leave your head. “Were you going to go further?”

“No, I swear it. I swear I… don’t know how to live with myself. That I hurt a woman, that I hurt you like that.” He brushes a tear from your cheek, his own flowing from his eyes. “I just wish you and Satoru the best, and I want you to know you were worth everything, so much more than what I did. There is no ‘better’ like I fucking said.”

“You built me up to break me down.” You huff the words out, choking on a sob, as the emotions roll over you, and he looks up then, adams apple bobbing under dark stubble, before nodding and looking back down.

“I did, and I fed off your insecurities, it made you easier to manipulate, to do whatever I wanted. But none of it was true. Satoru is lucky to have you, anyone would be, I was but I didn’t appreciate or deserve you. Now that I look back…” His brows knit together. “I see I didn’t even care about you, your feelings, nothing.”

“You admit it all. That’s… something.” You say with a breath, he clears his throat, hands back in his pockets now, sitting once again on his desk and looking up at you.

“Take care of him, of Satoru. I know you will be good to him, but just…”

“I’ll always take care of him. I love him more than anything.” You say, and Suguru smiles a bit, nodding. “I will be there for him no matter what, forever.”

“Forever you all are talking about?”

“Yes. Forever. There’s no one but him.”

“And there was never anyone but you for Satoru, once he saw you. I will let you go, thank you for hearing me out. I didn’t deserve it.” He covers his face again, looking tired and sad, helpless, for a moment you feel horrible for him, for his own doing. But it’s what he brought upon himself.

“Thank you Suguru, for apologizing, I do believe you meant it.” You gently touch his shoulder, and he looks at it, putting a hand over yours, then looking up at you in surprise.

“You accept the apology?” He whispers.

“I accept it. I hope you can… change, become better in Kyoto. I do not wish ill on you, despite it all. Maybe you can find who you were before.”

“You should wish ill of me. You should despise me.” He kisses your hand the way he used to, bringing painful memories back, but then he smiles and it’s genuine, it’s not the fake one you knew for months. “You deserve everything good. And I hope you and Satoru will be happy, that I didn’t fuck it up completely.”

“There’s no touching our happiness, we love each other too much.” You pull your hand back then, nodding to him and turning away. “Good bye, Suguru Geto.”

“Goodbye…” He says your name softly and you look back for just a moment, before pushing him out of your mind for good, and walking right into Satoru, who snatches you up and pulls you in his arms.

“Are you okay, baby? Are you hurt!?” He whispers, since the office is full, you shake your head, cupping his face with your hands.

“He just apologized. For everything.”

Satoru rolls his eyes, grimacing in disgust. “As if I won’t hate him forever, till I fucking die.”

Your heart hurts for Satoru. “I know, I know. It’s over now. He’ll be gone, and we can live our lives. Together.” You say softly, and Satoru exhales, slamming his lips on yours. You distantly hear the click of Suguru closing his office, and closing out the painful chapter of both of your lives.

“Together.” He agrees, smiling then, and you can feel a weight lifted off of both of you. “Now, I have a question.”

“What question?”

“When are you moving in?”

Satoru’s POV

Six Months Later

Satoru is watching you from the cameras he has set up in front of his house, well it’s both of your house now, you sold yours last month and finally moved in after he proposed to you. Now you’ve made his home a fucking pink fucking monstrosity in places, you have your stupid barbie collection in his fancy white curio cabinet, you have pink fluffy towels in your bathroom (not his he would never let you).

Your pink BMW sits in front of the four car garage, thank god you allowed him to upgrade your ugly, awful pink beetle. It’s in the garage collecting dust because you just won’t let it go, but he knows you prefer that BMW a lot more, you always look so pretty when you put the top down and he watches your hair flying behind you, in some bedazzled pink sunglasses.

Satoru says he hates your girliness even now, but he doesn’t, and you know it too, it’s an ongoing joke between you. He’ll grumble about something but then smile watching your pretty reactions, as you get so passionate about your silly things you enjoy. He secretly loves them because you love them.

Now he’s watching you water all the million succulents you have brought to his house. It's got an insane garden that you love to tend, but Satoru doesn’t mind because it keeps you home. You only work at the bar once a week now, and soon you will not be doing that anymore, because you are about three months along with a baby, it’s still early but you all found out it would be a girl.

Satoru remembers how excited you were, when you all got the ultrasound, and how his heart had faltered then, as he thought of a future with you, with his beautiful wife, and a baby. He wonders if she will be so girlie like you, or will she perhaps enjoy sports like Gojo does, be a little more of a tomboy. He makes jokes about it to you constantly.

‘I’ll give her all of my barbies!’

‘What if she hates them, hates pink!?’

‘Well I’ll dress her in pink until she tells me not to!’

‘Only pink, huh?’

‘And purple!’ He had chuckled then, as he held you in his arms, your eyes were glittering with such excitement. ‘Maybe some blue, like her dad’s eyes. Oh Toru, do you think she’ll have your eyes!’

‘I hope she has yours, they’re beautiful.” Your lip trembles then, your hands sliding up his chest, wrapping around his neck, head falling back while you look up at him. You’re so small compared to him, when he’s pressing you against the island of the kitchen, it just makes him more excited as he thinks of every way to have you.

“My eyes!? Satoru…”

“Yes, your eyes.” He tilts your chin up, taking it between his thumb and his forefinger, pressing a kiss on your pretty lips.

“You’re being so sweet!”

“Shut it, brat.” He glares at you now, and you’re giggling, so pretty and happy, you make everything feel whole for him.

“Gonna punish me, daddy?” You tease, then duck under his eyes and run to the bedroom, giggling like crazy.

Fuck Satoru adores you, adores all the happiness you bring, adores you so much he has cameras in every room. He’s not sure you know about them all, but sometimes you find one and get so angry, you’re adorable when you’re angry too, your cheeks all pink, your little scowl, so cute. It takes nothing for you to forgive him, though, just some flicks of his tongue and you melt.

Satoru tries to give you freedom, he allows you to spend time with your best friend still, and any friends you have, but he does have to track your phone, and your car, just to keep you safe. As for the cameras, well he just likes to look at you, as you’re cooking in the kitchen, or concentrating on your laptop writing. Sometimes you just look in the mirror and rub your tummy.

It’s so precious, how can he not want to see it all the time?

Since Suguru had been gone, he’d kept his agreement to stay out of your lives completely, even in Satoru’s business, they have go betweens, and he has not had to deal with him barely at all. The couple of private correspondences about the company were through email, and Satoru hated even typing to him. Satoru still hates Suguru with a burning passion.

It’s dulled with the happiness you bring, the new baby will bring, your new engagement to him… it all makes it easier. But he does not think he will ever forgive him for what he did to you, even if he could forgive him for the wrongs against himself. He’s heard he’s doing well from some mutual friends, Shoko had actually ran into him and said he seemed very different, but she keeps her distance from him now.

Satoru wishes he had not gone down that path, but there’s no helping or fixing it now truly, even if his pretty little fiance (you) wants to see good in everyone, Satoru absolutely knows better. He loves that you are that way, but it means even moreso he has to keep you protected and safe.

Satoru sees that neighbor come up to you now, he’s more your age if not younger, Satoru thinks he’s maybe twenty one, and he’s enamored by you. The whole neighborhood is, they all love you, since you go bake cookies and muffins and bring them around with your pretty smile, you’re the perfect little domestic housewife. He even bought you several pink aprons and fuck you look good in them.

Especially only the aprons.

Satoru Gojo never thought he would have domestic bliss, but he did, and he never knew he deserved it, not until you showed him his worth, until you showed him all the love you had for him, even embracing his darker tendencies. You could switch from a sweet little homemaker to a freak in moments, when he had you tied up dangling from the ceiling and taking full sets of you just last week.

Now you’re barely showing, you have a little tummy, and he knows the sex will have to be easier, he can’t risk anything. He is trying to be easier with you, more gentle, and he falls deeper in love as he does so. As he now takes things slower, and studies your pretty features more carefully, as he thinks he’s made you a mommy, and his love becomes so intense it’s hard to breathe at times.

Satoru gets so angry when he sees two more neighborhood boys talking to you now, offering to help in the garden. Of course they are circling you, you’re in these cute cut off shorts and a pink crop top, Satoru really should just not allow you to leave the house, but he loves you too much to do so. Ugh. How annoying.

“Little brat.” He mutters, staring at you on his phone, then he heads out of work early, he certainly can’t have this happening.

He pulls up in his sleek sports car, scowling at the now five twenty something men pulling weeds and helping you water your plants. When he steps out of the car, towering over every single one of them with his gucci suit and gucci shades on, smiling tersely, they all tense. You giggle when you see him, the sun has left a little red on your nose, and your eyes are wide and glittery.

“Toru! You’re home early!” He sees just the tiniest bit of a pooch on your tummy where your jeans are getting tight, and it turns him on so much he can’t think, thinking of the baby growing there already. You probably don’t look pregnant to anyone yet, but he knows.

You run to him and hop up, and he picks you up, genuinely smiling as he grabs you by the back of your thighs, where half your ass was hanging out. He scowls then, whispering in your ear - “I’ll burn these slutty shorts, brat.”

“Oh…” You pull back, blushing furiously, your lashes lowering as your legs wrap his waist. “I think they’re too tight?”

“They can be worn in the home. Got me, baby?” You nod shyly, you’re so cute he melts for you. “You’re destroying these boys.”

“No way!”

“Mmhmm. Look at ‘em.” He eases you down, and you then realize they all have puppy dog eyes for you.

“Oh shit. I thought they were being nice?” You whisper in his ear, leaning up on your tiptoes.

“Nope. They wanna see your ass. Now, ahem.” He clears his throat, pulling you along through your driveway. “The future Mrs. Gojo has a lot to do, head on back to college or whatever kids.”

They all get flustered and run off, and you’re giggling as he shuts the door behind you both, locking it and glaring at you, instantly unbuttoning your shorts, putting a big hand on your tummy. You melt, a hand going over his, the other caressing his face, Satoru revels in your touch, in your warm skin under his palm.

“How is my baby doing? Both of my babies, I should say.”

“I can’t tell how she is yet! Not even fluttering really. But I am good, so I hope she is good too.”

“Good, not too far along for me to discipline you?” You bite your lower lip now, fuck you’re sexy, Satoru’s already hard. “I had to leave early because of you.”

“How… what… Satoru the cameras!?”

“Yes, the cameras. I’d rather see you writing or cooking than being surrounded by a bunch of boys. Scarlett O’Hara.”

You giggle at the reference, rolling your eyes. “There were more men for Scarlett, surely.”

“Not really. Little belle of the ball. Be mean to them.”

“No! They know I’m with you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now.” He picks you up, and you squeak cutely as he carries you to your room, bending you over his bed. “You know how it goes.”

“Yes, Daddy. I’m sorry, you know.” You pout as you look back, pout so cute he almost falls for it, but then he glares.

“How many do you get?”

“How many boys were there?” You ask, giggling breathlessly, then gasping as your shorts slide down, and reveal your perfect ass in just a thong. He moans as he gently smacks each cheek.

“Five boys. Now… fuck your ass is getting nicer? Mmm.” It’s rounder, he thinks, it jiggles just a little more. “Pregnancy already looks sexy on you.”

“Ugh, I love you Toru.” You whimper out. “I’ve been feeling a little insecure.”

“Never around me, I told you back then, I’ll fuck every insecurity out of that pretty little head.” He leans over you, kissing your cheek, and feels you tremble when he slides your thong off you, he looks down and smirks. “Already a wet spot, how desperate and easy you get for me.”

“Just for you, Toru.” He smacks you harder, firmer this time, and you cry out, head falling back, hair cascading down your back. One of his hands brushes it back, feeling it silky under his fingers. You gasp when he pulls it. “Toru, please.”

“Please what, brat? Use your words.” He smacks you again, feeling you tremble under him, he’s so hard he has to unzip his pants.

“Hit me, please.” How can he turn anything you ask down, fuck you ask so sweetly for him too.

“I can’t soon you know.”

“Not for a while!”

“I’d say in two months it will be all vanilla.” You snort then, peeking back hungrily as he’s shrugging off his suit jacket.

“You vanilla!? You’re a psycho, yandere- ah! See!” He holds in his laugh at you, peeking then at the camera facing you both, it’s in your little pink pig plush that sits on the dresser, you’d probably never know. If you did, he has more. He’d have to watch this one later on and jerk off to you.

“You were saying something, brat? Do I need to gag you?” You shake your head quickly, and Satoru now slips off his blue silk tie, bounding your delicate wrists together behind your back. You obediently let him. “You’re being a good girl for me, aren’t you? Such a good girl.”

“Yes, I’m trying. Mmm!” He rewards you by running a long finger in your slick, and fuck you’re soaked. “Toru, yes, please…”

“Do you deserve to be pleased yet? I don’t know, you were out there bending over so slutty.”

“You psycho spying- ah! Shit, I mean sorry!?” He’s smirking now. “I’ll take five hits.”

“With what?”

“Your belt.” Your voice gets so sexy and breathy, Satoru almost loses it, sliding off his dress shirt and then unbuckling that belt, slipping it off with a crack that resounds in the air.

“You sure, it’ll hurt more.” He whispers huskily, running his hands up and down your perfect ass, down your thighs now, watching desire pool out of your little entrance, dripping down as you whimper.

“I’m sure, I want it, please.” He groans then, pulling back and smacking you harshly, watching the welp rise up right in front of his eyes. He’s dripping precum as your head falls back, your pretty little moan. “F-fuck!”

“Count them.” He orders softly, and you exhale, sinking your head against the bed, nodding against it.

“One.”

He smacks you again, on the other cheek, slipping a finger inside you for a moment, how hot and wet you are, when he pulls it out you whimper at the loss, he brings it up to his lips, tasting your sweetness. Now he’s down to his boxers, precum sticking, his cock is fucking twitching as he is picturing it pumping into your tight little cunt.

“Two.”

“Good girl.” He smacks you across both ass cheeks, in the center, the leather of the belt bruising your pretty ass.

“Three.” You cry out, choking on a sob, Satoru worried at first when you would cry, but you liked getting to this point, you knew the safe words and had used them a couple of times. You liked to be pushed, bruised, you liked to be a sobbing little mess, and he loves you like that.

Satoru leans forward to see those glistening tears, making him even harder, he loves when his pretty girl cries in pain and pleasure. He kisses your cheek, tasting the salty tears, listening to you sniffle. “You alright, pretty little slut?”

“I’m good, p-promise. Feels s’good, Toru.” You whisper back, your eyes glimmering with your tears.

“Good girl, how many more?”

“T-two more.”

“So perfect, aren’t you?” He says, hitting you once more, across your thighs, and watches you twitch, you scream out and choke on a sob, as your ass is becoming decorated with his marks.

“Four.” You choke out the words, and he moans as he hears you.

“You won’t be showing that perfect ass off for a bit, huh? All the boys were wanting you, know how mad that makes me? You’re mine.”

“I am yours. Y-yours.” You are so good, fuck he loves you.

“Mine. One more, can you take it baby?”

“I can, promise.”

Satoru smacks you with the belt one more time, exhaling as he watches you twitch and shiver, watches your wetness glisten on your puffy lips, and he instantly unties you, turning you around and lifting you up, pressing you into the bed. You have streaks of tears all along your cheeks, little trails drying, your lips all reddened from biting them.

“You’re the perfect girl for me, you know that baby? So good.” You exhale, kissing him hungrily, as he rubs your wrists for you.

“I wanna always be good for you.” You whisper back, then he’s slipping off your top, watching your tits bounce out, groaning as they do. “They’re already getting so big, aren’t they?”

“Fucking sexy. I can’t wait till they have milk dripping.” You whine out as he kisses down them, sucking one peak into his mouth.

“So sensitive, ah!” You cry out, wriggling under him, as he sucks your nipple into his mouth harder, moaning at your reaction.

“Hurts?” He whispers, you nod then. “Good or bad?”

“It’s good with you, Toru. Always with you.”

Fuck.

Satoru’s sucking on the other one, feeling your little hands enwrap in his silky white hair, drinking in your every cry and moan as he’s sucking on them, as he feels the heat of your pretty pussy against him. You’re grinding up, gasping, pulling on his hair now as he bites your already sensitive nipples, relishing in your every cry.

“I can’t wait to have your baby.” You whisper then, and Satoru leans up, cupping your face in his big hand, thumb brushing more tears away.

“I can’t wait for you to have my baby.” You cry more, and he smirks. “You’re such a crybaby.”

“I know. I just love my fiance.” You cup his face, and he takes that hand, seeing the giant heart diamond on your finger, it’s the most expensive ring he could find, surrounded by two pink jewels, just for you.

“And I love my fiance. Love watching her cry, beg, wiggle under me. So wet for me, isn’t she?” He whispers, sliding your own hand down to find yourself, and watching your head fall back against the pillows.

“S-so wet for you.”

“Are you going to be a good girl from now on?”

“I promise. Please…”

“Please what, brat?” He’s kissing down your tummy, pecking little love bites down your ribcage, then a hand on your tummy, smiling up at you. “You’re carrying my baby, you know that?”

“I know that. Please…”

“Please what?”

“Drink me, Toru. Please.” You spread your thighs, your pretty breasts rising and falling, and Satoru groans, spreading your thighs further, looking at your eager, soppy little cunt now.

“Drink you? Are you that wet?” He asks, pulling your lips apart, watching it gush out of you when he just barely breathes on it. “Oh, you are… such a desperate, slutty little pussy.”

“For you.”

Fuck, Satoru Gojo loves you.

Your POV

Satoru Gojo, your fiance, and soon to be father of your baby, is looking hungrily at your pussy with those brilliant blue eyes, his snowy lashes low over them, his perfect face shattering your heart. You’re so sore, your ass being pressed into the mattress burns, but it only serves to make you wetter, as you watch his lips part, watch him lick them with that pink tongue of his.

Your hands bury in his snowy white hair, and he looks up at you, hunger in his eyes, so intense it’s hard to breathe. But everything about Satoru Gojo was intense, down to that damn camera he has in your pig plush, he thinks you don’t know, but you look at it now, smiling, and he joins your gaze, smirking as well as he slides a long finger through your little gummy entrance.

“Ah fuck!” You cry out, and he’s chuckling, his breath making you jerk.

“You know about it? Freaky little slut.”

“You’re the slut! Yes I found it when I was cuddling it. Psycho.” He kisses your pussy lips now, and you’re getting overheated, your entire body on fire with need.

“You love it, don’t you, me being so obsessed?”

“No!”

“Liar. Fine, no licking.” He goes to get up, and you glare.

“As if you don’t want to!”

“Oh I do, but I can eat you out after I beat your pussy up-”

“I love it, okay? I love you being obsessed.” You whisper now, because you do, fuck you do. You know he watches you all the time, tracks you, you know he’s a psycho and possessive.

But it makes you feel so loved, wanted, protected.

He still lets you live your life, have your friends, he’s just your pretty fiance who happens to stalk you. Casually!? It’s weird, it makes no sense, and he may be a whole bunch of red flags, but he loves you, and you love him, more than anything. And now, you’re going to be a mommy, and you can’t fucking wait, to see him as a dad, to have your family.

You wouldn’t change a thing about your psychotic, yandere fiance, not a damn thing. He is everything to you, even when you bitch about it, even when you’re not sure you do know all the ways he watches you, you thrill in it. You love to bend over and know he’ll be touching himself at work, fuck you love being his little domestic housewife even.

Satoru makes you so happy, happier than you ever have been. And as he’s moaning and lapping at you with his tongue, you’re falling apart, so sensitive from his play you can’t stand it. You’re even more sensitive now that you’re pregnant than ever, every touch is heightened, and you’re hornier than ever, finally almost able to match Satoru’s insane sex drive.

Almost.

He hums against you now, and it vibrates your clit, making you shatter, the orgasm hitting so soon even he laughs. “Damn you’re easy now, huh baby?”

“Fuck you, Toru.” You glare, earning his scowl, but then he’s back to devouring you, and you’re screaming - “Yes, please, there!”

“Mmm…” Satoru’s tongue is fucking in and out of your entrance, you hear how wet you are in the room, so wet it’s stupid. He’s slipping two fingers in, and you hiss at the stretch, hips bucking up for more and more. “Taste s’fuckin yummy, baby.”

“Toru!” You’re fucking his face now, the one rare time he allows you so much control, typically Satoru is always dominant, but he loves when you pull his hair, when you ride his face. “There, fuck please don’t stop!”

He does not stop, when he’s flicking your clit with his tongue over and over, and his fingers hit that spot that makes you see stars, you cum so hard you nearly black out, shaking everywhere as he looks up at you, covered in your slick. His eyes are an insane blue, they get so crazy when you all fuck, when you all make love, when you all are intimate in any way.

Satoru sees only you, and you see only him.

He’s on you now, and you’re eagerly reaching for him, stroking his cock in your little hand, watching his eyelashes flutter. “Fuck my mouth.”

“Want your pussy first.” He’s shoved his thick eight plus inches in your cunt, and you scream out then, as he grins, those white teeth glinting in the room. “Aw, shut that pretty mouth up?”

“Ngh.” Is all you can imagine, as he allows you to adjust, will you ever really adjust to Satoru? He’s so huge and thick your body always needs a minute, his long body taking over your small one, so much bigger than you, he intimidates you as he makes you feel so safe in his embrace.

The size difference of you and him just makes you wetter, when he takes you over completely, and he loves to tell you - “So fuckin small, aren’t you? Want me to break your little pussy?”

“Please, please. Break me.” You whisper, desperate for him, and he groans loudly, pulling back, your slick dripping down the length of his veiny cock, before he shoves back in you, and his tip kisses your cervix. “Mnh!”

“Wanna feel you cum around me, can you baby?” He whispers, you nod eagerly, and he’s fucking you harder, slamming his lips into yours, your legs wrap his hips, your heels pressing in, as he pumps over and over. You’re falling apart under him, Satoru takes over everything you are. “That’s it, I feel it, cum, little brat. Now.”

You do exactly as he says, how could you now, when his tip is dragging on that spot along your walls, that are clenching around him. He’s kissing you and drinking your cries as the orgasm washes over you, blinding you again, when his hand slips up to your throat, and he leans up, balancing with one arm on one side of you as he squeezes.

“Harder, please.” You beg softly, and he shakes his head.

“You’re having a baby-”

“Not yet!”

“You’re a slut.” He glares, and you just pout and squeeze his wrist, your pink glittery nails digging in as you do. “And a brat.”

“Please, you can be all vanilla soon. Let me feel you choke me- ah!” He’s squeezing now, grabbing your hips with his free hand and pulling you down harder on his cock, splitting you in two.

“You want me to choke you, huh? Love knowing I could end you, don’t you, your pretty throat in my hands. Could snap your neck.” He whispers now, and it does nothing but make you throb around his thickness, wetter and wetter, you love when he talks like this, you’re just as insane as he is.

“Yes, I love it.” You breathe out, and his eyes go mad and insane, just how you love them, a grin on his handsome face.

“Fine, one more time hard.” He squeezes your throat tightly under your chin, your oxygen being sucked out of your body as he pumps over you, and you’re fading so goddamn deliciously. “Pretty face, when you’re losing that oxygen, I could make you faint. Couldn’t I?”

You love hearing it, when he’s so big and huge and strong, and you’re pathetic under him, and he takes you over. You nod barely, it’s getting fuzzy and your ears are ringing when he shoves in deep, grinding in your pussy, his own head thrown back for a moment as he feels you convulse. You’re cumming so hard you almost faint.

Satoru takes his hand off at the right moment, and you gasp greedily for breath, shaking as you lean up, kissing him so sloppy. Satoru groans as you do, slowing a bit and caressing your face, looking to your throat, all reddened from him. He kisses down your throat now, hands overtaking you, sliding down every line and curve, then he’s biting you hard with sharp teeth.

“Ah!” You let out a strangled cry, and now he’s fucking you even harder, you hear the sounds lewd in the room, his balls smacking your ass as he does, as you cling to him desperately. “Toru, too much!”

“Too much, huh? You want it, don’t you.” You weakly nod, you love being pushed over the edge, relishing in it as you know soon sex will change, he’ll get easier, and you soon will have a baby occupying your time.

You want your freaky Toru as much as you can have him.

“Beautiful, fuck you’re beautiful.” He whispers then, slowing his rhythm, cupping your chin again. “I fucking love you so much.”

“I love you, Toru. You’re beautiful.”

“Handsome, fuck you.” You giggle and he gently smacks your cheek, making you moan again. “Slutty brat.”

“Mm, you love it.” You grin and he grins too, rolling your hips up, to meet him stroke for stroke, and he’s falling apart now over you.

“Wanna have all this cum? Fill you up more?” He whispers, and you nod, nails digging into his back making him hiss, as both of your brows furrow, and you both grow slick with a sheen of sweat. “Fuck I wanna cut your stupid nails off.”

“You like them - ah - too. And you like… pink! Ah!” He’s smacking your other cheek, glaring as you laugh softly at him.

“Only pink I like is your pretty pussy.” You desperately kiss him now, and he’s pulsing inside of you, cumming so hard he cries out desperately, and you’re getting filled so goddamn good, he’s pumped so much it’s dripping down his length. You’re trembling as he pumps, as you’re both too sensitive. “Oh my god… fuck…”

“Fuck… Toru…” You whimper as he keeps pumping, then he cups your face with both hands.

“I love you so goddamn much. You’re mine, say it.”

“I’m yours. We are yours.” You whisper, touching your tummy, and he exhales, nodding then.

He pulls out of you, kissing your tummy, and you feel your heart swelling, more love than you knew, when he looks up at you lovingly. “I will protect you both, forever, I swear it. No one will ever hurt you both. I’ll be everything.” You watch tears form in his beautiful azure eyes, and you choke on your own sob.

“Satoru, I know you will. I know. And I’ll be the best mother ever, and the best wife to you. I swear.” He is picking you up now, kissing you deeply, over and over, and you’re a tangle of limbs, mouths messy as you kiss deeper, more desperate. He has to take a breath, pulling away now, before glaring. “What!? We were having a moment, why psycho Toru again!”

“Because if you flirt again, I’ll chain you to this damn bed.”

“Oh fuck off!”

“Oh yeah, think I won’t?” He raises a white brow, and you tense then, studying his face, and then he chuckles. “You think I would.”

“You’re insane, so maybe!”

“No, I wouldn’t, but it’s tempting.” He flips you on top of him now, you’re straddling him, your hair falling like a curtain on the side of your face, and he’s brushing it back gently. “I love you both so much already. I can’t take it.”

“I know what you mean.” Your hands meet over your tummy, then you meet his eyes once more, drowning in them. “You’re my everything.”

“You’re my everything. Never, ever fucking-”

“Toru I’ll never leave. Why would I? Everything I need… is right here.” You’re grinding on him now, slick messes, he’s still half hard, and his cock twitches, his hands gripping you so tightly. “Is it time for vanilla yet?”

“It’s time for vanilla.” He smirks, pulling you to him gently, and grinding you against him, his cock between your folds, kissing you sweetly, so different than before. You whimper into his lips, feeling his love, his affection, his well… obsession, and you revel in it.

You’re obsessed with Satoru Gojo too.

“Let’s see how vanilla you can be.” You whisper, leaning up to sink onto him, inch by inch, and holding both of his hands, fingers entwining against the black leather headboard. Satoru’s at your mercy, as he lets you ride him, lets you have control, kissing everywhere he can reach.

“Beautiful, fuck you’re so beautiful. You bring me to my knees, don’t you know?” He says softly, gulping now, and your eyes fill with more tears, as he eases up into you, freeing a hand to cup your face so gently.

“You bring me to my knees, Toru. I love you forever.” You whisper, and you all fall into each other, for once gently making love, so deep and beautiful it takes your breath, as you see your beautiful future.

Satoru is a psycho, but so are you.

And you’re both never letting each other go.

The End

I will do an epilogue one day, will tag anyone who wants to be tagged (along with current taglist) Thanks to everyone who enjoyed this! Don't worry, I have tons of Gojo content and more to come. Love you alll (another fic done, holy fk!)

Kofi Link if you wanna buy me a coffee <3

Taglist: @ssetsuka @lostinneocity @chiyokoemilia @victoriaaaa00 @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni @makingtimemine @nanasukii28 @antisocialinlw @lavender-hvze @seeing-stars-alt @thisonegirl @aldebrana @jiayingjellies

Kofi link if you wanna support 💗

#gojo x reader #jjk smut #satoru x reader #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jujustu kaisen #gojo satoru #yandere gojo satoru #yandere gojo #yandere jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo x you #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo x oc #fractured desires

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ms0milk · 3 months ago

Text

racked with summer somethings

iguro x fem reader [cw] body image struggles. reader fights with insecurity post-injury and iguro wants a kiss so badly he'll let some students die. 1.9k

three huge cheers for @serendipitous-soul and their generosity and patience in waiting for this piece to be published! thank you so much for trusting me with your @ficsforgaza request. I hope a slightly stubborn and overtly obsessed Iguro brightens your day <3

“No, Iguro wait–” Pushing him back is agony. Not because you crave the gentle kisses, not because you’re still clammy with afternoon sweat, but because he is so persistent the pushing has become a less than playful beating, “Down, boy!”

He leans closer the farther away you turn until you’re practically underneath him, one hand pressed over his face in your attempt to keep him off. His bandage seams lift in the gentle roughhouse. “Y/n,” his voice is firm. Let me kiss you. Let me see you. It is firm with his usual requests, sitting just unspoken at the edge of your name.

“M’gross–”

“Take that back,” he grunts, this time slipping a hand under your arm to cup your chin. He will have you. “What’s wrong?”

“Something has to be wrong to stay ungroped for the afternoon?”

Iguro folds himself around you like paper and presses you both into the swollen wall of his wooden greenhouse. It hosts aphids in the winter to feed crickets to feed birds to feed Kaburamaru and on summer days like this, groans like it’d rather collapse than endure its master’s appetite. “Oi, Igu–wait!”

You try to force another wait out before the Hashira's breath on your throat makes your voice crack but certainly too slowly to keep him from running his hands up your thighs and unfastening your scabbard belt with one hand. It’s Hashira training week, and no doubt the corps members assigned to him are begging for mercy somewhere their supervisor doesn’t have to hear. Your fingers dig between the folds of his increasingly disheveled bandages, he dips into you again, he shivers at your fingertips hot on his jaw, he does not care your other hand is pulling his hair and thwapping the top of his head repeatedly.

“You’re kissing me through bandages! You’re in such a rush you’re not even– NO don’t take them off, there’s no time to wrap you back up again!”

“No one will see,” he begs like a child negotiating for candy.

“Yeah cos they’re all dying– as we– Iguro!”

He is at your mercy, always, you are the head of his household more than his wife, his general, and today his general feels like shit. Training leaves you breathless and sweaty and makes him glow. Humid summer days fray the hairstyles you so carefully construct and melt makeup and soak fabric and make your husband shine with life, a delicate pink on the highest point of his cheeks. Your recent injury compounds pain with frustration: day after day in the Butterfly Mansion testing the strength of your healing knee and it taking two tiny nurses just to hold you up.

Iguro moves with every strong and graceful movement of a serpent. He doesn’t bump into tables, chairs, soldiers, or door frames or worry about the way his clothes fall over the curves of his body. Watching him is like sneaking into the opera. His noh would stop hearts.

“Your injury,” he startles and you return to the shade of the greenhouse where your husband wants to hold you. He drops his hands from where they’ve made a home under your top and in the pleats of your hakama and quickly leans away to see you better. “I wasn’t thinking.”

The fabric on your back clings to splinters in the greenhouse wall. Sweat collects where your thighs touch and under his gaze you can’t hide imperfection. “That’s not,” you start, but his eyes are filling with worry faster than you can prepare sarcasm. “I’m not hurting,” you murmur instead to stamp out budding concern.

“Then what’s wrong?”

The indignation is almost comical, like you’ve committed some horrible crime in withholding kisses. “It’s hot, Iguro, I haven’t rinsed off.”

“I don’t care if you’re sweaty.”

“I care if I’m sweaty,” you bite like he won’t bite back.

“Why would you care about what I want to taste? Does imagining my undersalted lunch put you in a shitty mood too?” You should have expected this; he’s such an instigating shit. “Y/n,” he presses, his voice matches the weight his palms bear on your waist even as you prickle, “what’s wrong?”

“The list is getting longer.”

“My love.”

If frustration could kill you’re not sure which one of you it would take in the muggy summer shade of your home. My love, Darling, Master, summer thunderstorms, winter nests, gifts brought back from distant villages to decorate this body and meant to suit someone so much different than you. Terms of affection meant for eastern goddesses and tiny little wives in their birdbone kimonos.

Your knee shifts without permission as it’s recently begun to do when it’s in use for too long. “Let’s change your bandage,” Iguro offers patiently instead of letting flares of worry show in his voice, “wrap you up tighter.” But he knows he’s the last person you want to see the wound there. Hunger shaped, a slice out of your body like a bite from bread, stitches swimming in the knotted scar from a spar with a demon that just couldn’t die quietly.

“Go save your students,” you admonish with a fond push. He leans into you instead of away and your fingers spread, your palms shift flat on the chest of the man you love.

“If they couldn’t last this long they’re dead already.”

“Obanai Iguro.”

“Obanai Y/n,” he replies without delay. In the sweltering shade, he draws his hands from your hips, up your waist and soft onto the clefts of your face. His palms cup your jaw. “What are you thinking about?” You roll your eyes and bring your own hands up to settle his someplace the sweat wont pool immediately, but he holds you steadfast. His students really might die if you leave them much longer.

His greengold stare is completely disarming and you know better than to let it hold you for too long, but the thoughts truly come faster than you can keep up with them. Training week is a logistical nightmare every year and besides feeding the swaths of corps members, keeping them alive in Serpent Manor, and their uniforms unpissed in, is the larger struggle. Watching the shapes they make under your husband’s instruction stings familiarly. You don’t look like that when you fight. Your hips fill your hakama with curves no one here has and in a field that requires uniformity, it hurts how much you stand out– how easily your skin scars, marks, bruises, and stretches– how much more room you take up. It’s always easier when the house is empty.

Iguro’s thumb catches your lip and rolls over the oil you use to gloss them. The one he loves to taste and that dots his white uniform with shiny little spots now, in all the places you tried to deter him with a bite. “Well?”

“I don't like training week.”

His cheeks pinch under his eyes with a soft smile, “I know.” And he tickles the notch of your jaw with delicate fingers. He traces the curls of your ears. It aches. “Your knee will heal. You’ll fight again.” What can you do but close your eyes? His will burn holes in you, then what good will you be? His graceful fingers tuck away your loose hairs. Does he like it when you make yourself smaller like this? He’s never once liked it, but is today the day he changes his mind? Does he wish you looked like the other slayers? Slim and featherlight– the thought hasn't left you in days– the idea you might not have been injured so badly if you weren't such a big target.

Iguro breathes once deeply and covers your ears with flat palms.

A warm breeze teases you both around the ankles to remind everyone that summer won’t end anytime soon. You think too much, you’re sure he drawls before the world goes silent.

“Hey,” you warn and try to pull his hands down but he shakes his head– your voice grates inside your own. It’s too hot to stand so close but you don’t quite pull back, even as August damp makes your tunic uncomfortable. He tilts your head in his hands every time you look at something other than him, “Iguro.”

The crepemyrtles rustle at a distance in purples and pinks, he draws you back to him, swallows dive for wasps in the begonias, he draws you back to him, nothing makes a sound past his strong calloused hands. It’s finally quiet. Your fingertips find purchase in the fabric of his haori. His knuckles vibrate with all the things he says that you cannot hear.

You murmur his name. He vibrates again. Your husband picks favorites; you, his general, his wife, his master, and he is never subtle. Subtlety kills devotion. Iguro’s sharp eyes trace adoration into summer air while he keeps noisy humid thoughts from haunting you. His chest rumbles with speech you can’t make out in this peace you can’t find on your own.

What about you makes him so soft? His rumpled bandages tighten against his lips as he speaks and all it takes is one finger to pull them away. You tug once gently, hands rising like smoke from their home on his chest as he makes a shelter for you behind the shade of the greenhouse.

You, his soft lips mouth, Y/n. His own scars crawl along his perfect cheeks and tighten when you trace them in the quiet of his love. Your love is the first night he let you see them, fireworks on a cemetery hill and hiding as best you could, the rush of an overfilled heart. He doesn’t hide from you, even when it makes his well-trained fingers shake. He doesn’t stop speaking when you touch the part of himself he hates so much.

I want you. Iguro’s lips make the shape of every syllable so slowly you couldn’t misread them if you tried, the three words you feed to him on bad days like medicine. Y/n. I want you.

The realization comes with slightly more embarrassment than you’d like for such a hot day. Warmth rises in your cheeks and the heat threatens to make tears. How much more similar could you two possibly be? How many more signs do you need to believe that he was made just for you? When you kiss him you are gentle and his hold over your ears falters so that he can hold you properly.

“I want you, Y/n.”

“I heard you.”

“Scars and all.”

“Have me.”

“I won’t have you any differently. I won’t have you smaller, weaker. You wouldn’t be my wife that way.”

“Kiss me then, chatterbox.”

Iguro finally relaxes against you in the unbearable summer air, inescapable by shade, swim, or fan. He cradles the back of your neck like looking away from him would even be possible in the closeness of your kiss. In the minutes before battered corps members begin limping back to the top of your mountain home, you don’t need to think about dinner or dressing wounds or keeping your bandages hidden. You don’t spare a thought for the breakable nurses at the Butterfly Mansion or how predictably tsuguko marvel at the strength behind your kicks. Easier than training, than putting out fires, easier than smoothing balm on your scars, easier than nursing hips bruised from doorways or learning to sew your hakama just right, is letting Iguro soothe your worry with stolen kisses in the sticky shade of the greenhouse. Scars and all, the predictable pair of you.

(divider by @cafekitsune!)

#love a man who can soothe insecurities #love a couple who mirrors each others experiences #iguro x reader #obanai x reader #kny x reader

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the-californicationist · 4 months ago

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There’s always a sexy little literature element in your books. I’d salivatteee over price as a grumpy librarian in some small town. Ughh with some small glasses and flannel. He’s so obsessed with the nerdy little frequenter who hides away in some section in the back to read. Imagine him peeking thru the books to catch a glimpse and sees her putting on a private little show in the some hidden away section. Little does he know she wants her grumpy librarian to watch 🦭. I know you’d make this so sexy and delicious, you deviant woman 🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️

i love you so much @ofdivinity01 <3 i hope this quick fic hits those points for you <3 <3

The Archives

John Price has retired, and he has tried out a number of different jobs to keep his mind occupied. One of his favorite jobs so far has been working in the archives of a library, especially since there's a pretty little regular that has been haunting his thoughts.

TW: female genitalia, overt sex, pwp, seriously its plotless, 3rd person POV

AO3 Link

Working as a library archivist was not how John Price had pictured his retirement beginning. To be fair, he didn’t need the money. Retiring before the age of forty with a comfortable (substantial) bank account to reflect a job well done was already an achievement. So, tackling another high-stress, high-profile career seemed doable yet unnecessary. He’d stuck around the house for a while, pottering about with some renovations or garden projects, but it wasn’t enough. He was antsy. It was only when his old friend, Steve Kosser, the director of a top-level historical documents archive, called him and asked for some extra security coverage that he’d realized having a gun on his belt felt familiar in a way that he wasn’t sure he liked. But, he loved the library.

John had always loved books. His house was full of them. He had stacks on each and every surface. The classics, some Shakespeare, a bit of poetry, some nonfiction… he would read anything. There was even a bodice-ripper or two tucked away unseen, but he wasn’t ashamed. Reading kept him sharp. It taught him about people, about their nature, about possibilities, about hope in places where there was none.

His work had quickly transitioned from security to desk work, and from desk work to archival data entry. Now, he was a procurement specialist, reaching out across the world to find texts and documents that his clients needed. Being close to the university meant that he had some repeat customers, but there were few who caught his eye like her.

She was his shadow-cloaked phantom, haunting him from the back corner. Her wardrobe was black on black on black, never daring to show him more than a hand or a wrist, or a bit of her neck other than her face. But, he lived for that face. Round, full cheeks, and a downturned smile when he greeted her each evening that she decided to come in to work. He dreamt of that smile almost as much as her plump, thick ass, and heavy, ample breasts; all hidden beneath her modest clothing. Part of him warred against his lust, chastising him for ogling her when she was just here to work on her graduate research, but the other part of him was… harder to convince.

But, tonight, in his almost empty archive section, he was given a true gift. She came in from the downpour outside, and he almost didn’t recognize her. He saw her tumble into the door, shaking her umbrella, frustrated and wet, but he’d needed to do a double-take. This was not his modest little raven, hiding behind her feathers. No, she was a bird of paradise tonight.

Her feet were lined with strappy black heels, high and platformed, shining in patent leather, wet from the puddles outside. Her legs were bare, and as he raked his eye upwards, he lingered on her round calves, her muscular thighs, wide and smooth, all leading him up under a high, pleated skirt, dark green plaid, sitting high on her waist, doing little to hide that juicy rump. She had on a button-down shirt, starched and white, but he could see her black bra underneath, the rain making the fabric of her top transparent. Her hair was up in some sort of style, pulled away from her face and her neck, curling and gleaming from the droplets.

She was panting from the cold, and from rushing inside, and that didn’t help his cause. He’d been battling a succession of throbbing hard-ons ever since he’d first spotted her, and that was weeks ago. At home, he’d retreat to his bedroom, rod in hand, working himself into an orgasmic froth, trying his best to picture literally anyone but her. But, she would flash into his mind, her smile, those eyes, that skin… and he’d be lost.

When he saw a request come in from her library account, it was just as bad if not worse. His primal body would celebrate, happy that she needed his help, and that he could provide for her, and he’d be in a tumultuous, heart-pumping, cock-stretching predicament yet again. He’d cloistered himself away, deep in the darkness of the stacks, fisting himself in rushed, punishing strokes, coming in his open palm, stopping himself from ruining the historical treasures he was meant to be protecting, hanging his head in love-drunk shame.

But now, in some sort of twisted, scholarly fantasy, here she was. His curvy little grad student, dripping wet and coming straight up to his desk.

“Hiya, John,” she whispered, her voice somehow cutting through the blood that pounded through his ears.

“Hey there, love. It’s cats and dogs out there, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she looked down at herself, trying to squeeze the water from her top, stretching it even thinner across her visible bra line, the black lace now fully visible to him, its floral pattern burning itself into his mind like fire on a page, licking black soot and tormenting him deep in his belly.

“Do you think you could help me?” She looked up at him with those doe eyes, pleading.

His body responded before he did, plumping himself back to life, feeling how the body of his prick pressed itself down the leg of his jeans. Yes, sweetheart, we’ll fuckin’ help you, won’t we, mate?

John shook it off, nodding his head,

“Sure, what’s the problem?”

She pulled some copies out of her bag,

“A friend sent these over, but I don’t think they match the microfiche film that you have here. I hate to ask you this, but could you help me do a cross-check? I really just need someone to listen while I read from the fiche film.”

“You bet.”

John followed her like a loyal mutt over to the dark microfiche machine, his tail surely wagging if he had one, stealing glance after fiery glance at that delectable body as she walked, those heels clacking against the terrazzo floors.

She found the machine she wanted and perched herself on the tiny stool. He sat beside her, eyes glued to the page, afraid of himself if he dared look anywhere else. The way the machines were set up meant that she would have her eyes stuck in the viewfinders, like she was scoping out the horizon on a submarine, while the soft golden glow from the machine would light up her unbuttoned cleavage, making her body that much more visible as he stared at her from his periphery.

“Okay,” she positioned her eyes in the machine’s goggle-like viewer, unable to see anything around her but the film she was flipping through, “We’re on page seventy-four, right?”

John looked down at his packet,

“Yep, seventy-four.”

“Okay, oh—!” She twisted herself on the stool, trying to get more comfortable, but her ass was too much for the tiny seat to handle. He reached out on instinct, catching her on her flank, gripping her none too lightly, saving her from falling.

“Gotcha,” he laughed.

She peeked out of the viewfinder for a moment, smiling,

“Shit, I’m sorry. Mmm,” she cooed, “Your hand is so warm. Didn’t realize how cold I was.”

“Tha’s alright, love. We’ll getcha warmed back up.”

She gave him an encouraging look as she turned back to the viewfinder, and John felt like he had earned her approval to keep his hand planted right where it was.

As she read from the film, he followed along, not really needing to report any corrections, but his palm was itching to travel. He had a hold on her hip, part of his hand riding the hem of her skirt, feeling the chill of her flesh, pebbling from the damp cold. Then, he began to pet the spot, rubbing it to create some warmth, generate some heat with his friction, and every brush from his palm meant that the wool of her skirt would scrunch up, revealing more and more of her plump butt as he did so. Eventually, he was under her skirt, realizing that the skirt was all there was. No panties, no hose, no nothing.

“Ah, uh…” He made his excuses, “Sorry, love. Got a little carried away keepin’ you from freezin’ in here.”

He removed his hand for a moment, and then, the impossible: she grabbed it and placed it back where it was, peeking at him from the fiche machine,

“Top of page seventy-nine, according to Marchante, the lost letters from Smith to Callant, prior to the war of 1617…”

Game on.

Price followed along dutifully, confirming each page with her, but now, spurred on by her teasing consent, his hand wandered unbridled. His fingers squeezed her body like the flesh of a ripe peach, soft and supple, giving way under his ferocious strength. Deeper and deeper, he snaked his way down the curve of her cheek, hunting for the parts of her that wouldn’t be taken by the cold. Her little, dripping furnace; that’s what he wanted.

When he found it, her breath hitched. His ring and pinky fingers dropped far enough down to find her hanging right off of the stool, her holes uncovered, open to the air, unguarded and vulnerable to his searching hands. The slick, lava-hot heat that he discovered there as he sank between her folds warmed him from the inside, turning his erection into a huge fucking problem, painful and hungry for her sticky, sweet treat. When her words stuttered, he pumped his fingers deeper inside of her, steady in and steady out, up and down, the quiet milking noises muffled by her skirt.

“Tch. C’mon, love, don’t stop readin’,” he purred in her ear, daring to plant a soft kiss in the hollow of her neck, pulling back to watch the goosebumps pebble across her skin not from the chill, but from him.

“...in the, uh…” she was breathing heavy.

“In the coming months…” he prompted, teasing her with his hand, curling his fingertips as he delved deeper, pulling out some of her wetness to paint her lips, feeling her muscles loosen up for him, readying her for something more than his thick digits.

“...in the coming months, the two armies… they… um, they…”

“C’mon, sweetheart. Tha’s a good girl. Keep going.”

She tried her best, and he almost felt bad for her, but not that bad. Because when he added another finger, sinking his middle alongside his ring, letting his pointer finger lazily tease its way up the slick surface of her folds, reaching for her clit, her reading stopped entirely.

“Mm, fuck!” She hissed under her breath, “John… I can’t…”

“I know, baby. I know. But, this is your bloody fault, innit?” John whispered, his voice gravelly and rolling beneath his breath, “You came in here, you wanted this, didn’t you?”

“No…” She whined, her mouth hanging open, her lips shining with a little bit of her own drool.

“Don’t lie to me,” he warned darkly, “You wanted to see if I would take your fuckin’ bait.”

Another finger, three of them, twisting and curling, bending and rubbing against her tight walls, and that was enough for her confession.

“Yes. Yes, I… yes, fuck…”

“And you wore this just for me, didn’t you?”

“...yes.”

“My good girl,” John praised her, tossing the packet down on the desk and using his free hand to widen the neckline of her shirt.

He pulled at the fabric until he broke a button, forcing her breasts through the opening, shoving his hand into her bra to fondle her nipples and squeeze her full tits. Then, he made a true effort to tuck her clothes under them, letting her breasts sit on top of her bra cups, hanging freely in the soft glow of the reading machine. Now, with her nipples on full display, he could bend down to kiss them, to nip at them softly, suckling at her skin as he fingered her, eliciting nothing but desperate, quiet mewls from her open mouth.

“John, please…”

She was barely perched on the stool anymore, her ass shifting and trembling, trying to present itself to him, her body wordlessly begging for more and more of his touch.

“Please, what? Want me to pull a different document?” He chuckled, removing himself entirely, making as if to stand and leave her there a half-naked, dripping mess.

“No!” She gasped, grabbing him by his shirt, yanking him back, shying away from his cruel laughter.

He returned to her, using his fingers to explore her swollen pussy and, now, to lightly rim his way around the tight ring of her asshole. His once-gentle suckles against her puffy nipples turned into rough, bruising kisses, making her squirm from pleasure and pain, crying out for him.

“Greedy thing,” he panted, feeling her flutter around his hand, “You wanna come on me? Right here? In the middle of my fuckin’ library?”

She nodded, her eyes now fixated on the way he was playing with her tits, stealing sweet kisses from her mouth when she would cry out too loudly.

“Teasin’ me for weeks,” he admitted, pulling his hand from beneath her skirt, suckling on his fingers to taste her, sticking them in her mouth so she could join him, watching her pupils dilate as her own heady fluids touched her tongue.

“So pretty…” John kissed her, and then it was his turn to gasp.

She had let her hands wander to his lap, rubbing the outline of his cock through his jeans, teasing the head when she finally found it, encouraging him to buck against her touch.

He started to fuck her with his hand; long, deep strokes, no longer caring about the lewd noises he was making as his knuckles churned within her, soaked and pumping in an unravelling rhythm.

To hide her screams, he pressed his mouth against hers, stuffing her pretty cheeks full of his tongue, feeling her suck against it for comfort as she fell apart.

Then, she was wet beyond belief, dripping all over his palm, creamy and hot, giving him a reward for every cruel thrust of his hand. She was gripping onto his cock’s shaft for dear life, holding it like a lifeline, and her tight grip was enough to drag him right along the edge with her.

By the time he pulled away from her, she was a shuddering, trembling mess. Her legs were shaking, barely able to keep her balance on the tiny stool, her tits red and purple from his assault.

“C’mere, sweetheart. Let’s go back to my office, yeah? Get you all cleaned up.”

She nodded, not even bothering to cover herself as he helped her stand, walking in front of him as he led her through the back door to the restricted area, her eyes hooded and exhausted from her ordeal, so sweet and trusting.

“Thanks for your help, John,” she sighed, smiling up at him with that same grin that had haunted his dreams, “I wish there was some way that I could repay you. Is there anything I can do?”

Now that they were in his office, he sat her on his desk, unbuttoning the last remaining buttons of her blouse, peeling her bra away from her shoulders, unzipping the side of her skirt, grinning down at her wet sex, licking his lips like the wolf that he was,

“Oh, baby, there are so many things you could do for me. But, let’s start with you spreading your legs, hm?”

“Like this?” She did as he asked, watching him slide her skirt off of her body, letting it ruffle to the floor, leaving her in nothing but her heels. Slowly, she pulled her knees apart, showing off for him, knowing that as much as he was the wolf, she was more than just prey.

“Holy shite,” John murmured under his breath, watching as she bloomed for him, a pink petal in the darkness of his own shadow.

He knelt before her, eager to put his mouth against her softness, lapping his tongue against her like he was starving. Her thick thighs felt good in his hands, and he pried her open with them, pulling her legs even wider than she had dared.

He dragged his tongue along every fold and dripping line of delicate skin, finding the swollen body of her clit nestled beneath its hood, shining for him like a pretty pink gem. He pressed his fingers back inside of her, not granting her any mercy, starting with three, stretching his way back in.

John’s hand fucked her as he drank from her, reaping what he sowed, over and over, in and out, rubbing her to her peak and dragging her over the edge.

She was gleaming down his beard by the time he’d had his fill. His tongue coated in her slick, swallowing her down his throat, enjoying the lingering taste of her in his mouth.

His poor darling was hoarse from her keening, sweating, trembling below him, a drenched mess on his desktop. He chuckled, petting her skin with his callused hands,

“Had enough?”

Her eyes were full of worry and anticipation as she looked up at him, wanting to say yes, but shaking her head no.

He teased her, unzipping his fly, letting his cock roll out onto her belly, thrusting it forward until he was flush with her hips, showing her just how deep he would reach. Her eyes widened with shock as she reached down to touch him, feeling him dripping with precome far above her navel.

John tapped himself against her, heavy and stiff,

“Change your mind?”

“Um…” Her voice was small, but she still looked up at him expectantly, so he rubbed his head through her folds as a final warning.

“Ungh! Mmf– John…” She moaned his name, rocking her hips against his long shaft, her knees shaking every time his head buried itself in her folds.

He slapped his cockhead against her clit as if knocking for entry, making her gasp,

“I’m not hearing a no, love.”

She covered her mouth with her hands, trying to stop herself from screaming as she felt him notch his head into the cradle of her pussy, pressing forward just enough to stretch her with the body of his cock, watching as her eyes began to fill up with tears, overwhelmed by his size.

By the time he was halfway into her warm core, her eyes had rolled behind her fluttering lashes, her breath stuck in her throat, her lips parted, showing him her lolling tongue.

“Tha’s it, sweetheart. Let me take care of you, yeah?” John grunted, shoving himself the rest of the way through her clenched muscles, listening to the sounds of her wetness as her body tried to make room for his immense girth.

As John began to thrust into her, she squeezed herself against him, fighting off another orgasm, each of them coming closer and closer together as she became almost overstimulated by him. He held his fist over her lower belly, leaning forward to put his weight down into his knuckles, making her feel every inch of him.

The pressure from his hand turned her into a gooey mess, her body throwing everything it could to accommodate him, her cries dragging out into deep moans, fully under his spell.

He couldn’t help himself. All of those nights where his cock had only been comforted by his own hand were running him down, crackling at the edges of his mind, eating away at his humanity, ravenous and desperate. Finally feeling her, hearing her cry for him, watching the way her pussy sucked him in; it was making him wild.

His desk was rocking off of its feet, scooting across the floor of his office, John’s strength too much for it to hold him back. He pulled her knees together, using them to push her thick thighs against her belly, holding her down at a new angle. For a few moments, he let himself get lost in the delightful jiggle of her body as he railed against her, admiring how her fat ass rippled with each of his thrusts.

“John… J–John. Oh, my God,” she gripped the edge of the table, her elbows framing her head on either side, the new position making her breasts hang and sway like heavy teardrops.

“Come for me, love. C’mon. Let me feel it,” he growled breathlessly, leaning against her leg, letting his lips and tongue graze along her ankle, tracing the skin between the straps of her gleaming heels.

“I’m… so close…”

John kept his pace, even though everything within him wanted to breakdown and follow her over the edge. His cock was throbbing, sending him every signal that it was ready to burst, his aching balls full and tight, the nerves in his groin burning with hot pleasure.

Then, he was rewarded for his patience. She began to unfurl beneath him, unraveling like a tangled ball of yarn, chaotic and spinning out of control. Her muscles within her core clamped down on his cock, milking him like a hungry mouth, yanking him deeper inside of her as she came. With all of the strength he had left, he pulled himself out of her at the last moment, spraying rope after rope of his come across her pulsating hole, painting her pussy with his own orgasm, grunting like a rabid animal.

He let her legs fall open, weak as she was, watching as she melted on his desk, laying beside her. She curled into him, resting her head on his chest, still fully clothed in stark contrast to her nakedness. Both of them were breathing in ragged, exhausted bursts, clinging to each other for any kind of strength they could find left.

“Thanks for… helping me, John,” she smiled up at him, kissing his neck.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he kissed her forehead, “Research is my second favorite thing.”

“What’s your first?” She looked lost, still reeling from what he had just put her through.

“Oh, love,” he let out a low rumbling laugh, “Gimme a few minutes and I’ll show you again.”

#call of duty fanfic #captain john price #john price #captain price #call of duty #female original character #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod

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wearebarca · 7 months ago

Text

1. Captured // Alexia Putellas x Original character

Part 1 part 2 part 3

synopsis: Rosalie has never stayed too long at the same place. When the opportunity of a lifetime presents itself critical moment in her life, the photographer decides to once again leave behind what she knows and joins the staff of Europe's best football team.

word count: 3,5K

18 + (eventually)

A/N: Hello, Spanish is from google translate so please be nice. French is my first language so all should be good on that part. Enjoy.

Her fingers were hovering over the multitudes of cameras lined up in the bookcase of her small living room. The balcony doors were opened and the cool night air filtered in the little apartment, along with the chants and cheers of the sea of supporters passing in the streets below. Nights like these had quickly become her favourite since moving to the heart of Barcelona. She would usually sit on the balcony and watch as the supporters would celebrate their club's win, filling the night air with happiness and excitement but tonight was slightly different though. An important match was currently being disputed at the Johan Cruyff Estadi, one that all the Barcelona Femini fans were looking forward to all year. El Classico was always an electric night and Rosalie had decided to experience this night out in the streets, instead of the comfort of her balcony chair.

Once out in the streets, She was immediately hit by a wave of excitement. She was instantly swept in a sea of chanting people, all wearing jerseys and scarves with their team's logo. The crowd was so dense that all you could see were flashes of red and blue making the task of focusing on one subject a difficult one. She finally managed to exit the crowd and find a bench near a bus stop, high enough to have a clear view of the scene unfolding in front of her. This new vantage point allowed you to take numerous portraits of fans, capturing groups of friends in the middle of drunken laughs and barça chants. She instantly knew when the final whistle was blown and Barcelona had won the match. Excited screams could be heard all around and the ground was slightly shaking from the people jumping around in an ecstatic frenzy. Rosalie lowered her camera and took a moment to soak it all in. These were the moments that reminded her of why she had chosen sports photography as her career. This feeling of unity between fans, the shared excitement and hope as well as the solidarity displayed among the supporters even during darker times. Sports was something that brought people together, made them temporarily forget about their lives. She considered herself lucky to have a job that allowed her to capture such moments.

Once back in the safety of her apartment, she plugged her camera to her computer and while the shots she took were transferring into her laptop. She pulled out the wine bottle that was already opened and sat on her couch. Next to her was a pile of clothes that consisted of her vintage oversized brown leather jacket, a tight black t-shirt and dark brown pleated pants. She had specifically picked out this outfit for her first day in her new job. Her camera bag sat next to the pile, only her laptop missing. Everything was ready, perfectly organized, almost obsessively. The stress of this new beginning was keeping her up which led the young woman to work on the shots she had taken during the night until she fell asleep in her living room.

The drive to the training stadium wasn’t too long. She had left incredibly early to avoid traffic and ended up parking her car at the stadium and walking around the block. It wasn’t long until she stumbled upon a small cafe, not too far from the training center. The place looked cosy and inviting with all the plants and the picture frames. Upon a closer look, she noticed that they were all pictures of what she guest was regulars enjoying their coffees. The thought of so much history hanging on these walls made the French-Canadian smile as she went to stand in line to order.

Her Spanish was rather shaky which made the barista and the woman behind her chuckle lightly. But nonetheless she managed to order and pay without going completely red from embarrassment.

“Americano para Rosalie” The french name sounds so foreign when spoken in the language and Rosalie almost felt bad for the barista and made a note to herself to use her spanish nickname when ordering in the future.

She picked up her coffee and as she was turning around to exit the small shop, her body collided with a solid one, making her spill half of her own coffee on herself.

“oh Déu, ho sento, estàs bé?”

A tattooed had grabbed her elbow in an attempt to stabilize her, but the damage was done. The cup that was previously secured in her hand had spilled more than half of its content on her shirt and bag. the tattooed woman turn to her partner “ Ingrid can you grab napkins please”

She immediately took the napkins that were handed to her and started to dab at her bag in an attempt to prevent the liquid from seeping in and mess with her equipment. Busy trying to dry the coffee that had fallen on her work bag, Rosalie had failed to notice who exactly had bumped into her, but the names mentioned during her short encounter were oddly familiar. “ Are you ok? Did any get in your bag?” A tall dark haired woman was standing right in front of you with a worried smile and Rosalie could not believe her luck. She simply shook her head and smiled at the Norwegian while throwing the napkins away.

“ I’m Ingrid, we’re very sorry about this, Maria’s a little clumsy.” She laughed at her own statement, knowing very well that “ a little” was a bit of an understatement.

“ It’s ok, I can’t say that I was really looking where I was going” Rosalie said as she followed Ingrid outside the cafe to a small table near the entrance. The Spanish woman exited the shop shortly after them with a tray with four cups of coffee.

“ Asked the barista for your order, here you go.” The Spanish woman said with an apologetic smile on her lips.

“ Thank you, you didn’t have to do that”

“ It was only fair since this one can’t be bothered to be aware of the world around her” she said, giving a playful glare to her partner.

“ I’m Mapi, .” .

“Oh I know who you are,” she said with a smile on her face. She wasn’t new to the football world, having played all the way to her college years. After graduation, she had gotten herself a job as an assistant photographer in the NWSL in America. She had travelled all around the United-States and became one of the best known sports photographers. Three years into the job, Rosalie received a call that would change her career forever.

Arsenal W.F.C was desperately looking to revamp its image and put the club on the map. Management had come across some of Rosalie’s dynamic shots and had contacted her to offer her a spot in the new media team that would follow the girls around during the season. Seeing this as the opportunity of a lifetime, she moved across the ocean. This was the opportunity of a lifetime and she absolutely loved it. She had built her strongest friendships over there, had fallen even more in love with job and football, but also experienced her most gut wrenching heartbreak. After her breakup, she had stayed with the team to finish her contract and then packed her flat without knowing what she would do next. She knew that going back toArsenal would not be a good idea since she would have to see the face of the woman that had broken her trust everyday, so she gave her notice and left a month to go hiking in Andalucia. It would be during this trip that she would get the call from FC Barcelona Femini. She would accept on the spot and after a quick apartment search she would have all her belongings shipped to her new address and fly straight to Barcelona, without anyone knowing about her new beginning.

“ Sorry that came out a little strong, I’m Rosalie Marineau, Barça’s new photographer.” She shook both their hands and started the few blocks walk towards the training facility.

“ Oh it is a pleasure to meet you, we were wondering when the new photographer would start. We were all excited after seeing some of your work with Arsenal, very impressive.”

“Thank you so much but I should be the one who’s excited, it truly is an honour to work with such a strong and dedicated team Like Barça, I really can’t wait to start.” the woman said with a beaming smile. The walk back to the stadium was filled with conversation about the upcoming season, Rosalie's career and even strayed to her college football career. As the group reached the entrance of the training grounds, a voice made itself heard in the hallway.

“ustedes chicas llegan tarde” A tall blond was leaning against the wall right next to the locker room door. She was wearing the gray half zip training shirt with matching shorts and her hair loose, fanning over her shoulders. Her arms were crossed, her boots in one hand and a stern expression was plastered on her face. In her mind, there was no way that this woman was not the captain of this team and indeed, a few moments later, Rosalie was standing face to face with Alexia Putellas.

“ Quince minutos antes no significa tarde, Ale” The sigh that left the Catalonian’s lips was long and the look that came with the sound would make anyone shrink right on the spot. She propped herself up and with even sparing a glance in the direction of the photographer, she turned around and entered the locker room.

“Maria, you might want to follow her, you don’t want her getting worse.” Ingrid said, pushing her girlfriend towards the same door the blond had previously disappeared in. The Spanish woman let out a sigh of her own before also disappearing into the room. “ Come with me, I’ll show you to the management's office.”

As Rosalie had predicted, her morning was all about paperwork officializing her new position as the head of the photography department. Ingrid ended up staying the whole time and even offered to show her to her new office. The office was located on the second floor of the building, which seemed a lot calmer than the lower level. Upon entering the office, Rosalie was surprised by how spacious the place was. The space was divided into two sections. The first had all the proper equipment at her disposal to hold photoshoots. Everything was brand new and of the highest quality, with some of the equipment still wrapped in their boxes. The second was closest to the windows, which gave a perfect view of the pitch, and was half hidden behind screens to give the feeling of being in a completely different room. A desk with two large screens and a laptop launchpad, a comfortable looking chair and a small sofa occupied the space.

A big smile was playing on Rosalie’s lips as she took in the space she would now work in. “ I hope you will feel right at home here.” Jonatan Giràldez said as he came to stand beside the photographer. “ You can set up if you’d like, I’ll send someone to collect you so you can meet the team before lunch.” He said, once again extending his hand for her to shake. “ Welcome to the family, Senorita Marineau.”

After a quick hug from Ingrid and a promise to talk more later, Rosalie pulled out her laptop and took a seat at her new desk. Looking out at the pitch she found the two women she was hoping to see. During her contract with Arsenal, she was asked to follow some of the players to the Lionesses camp to capture their journey. That’s where she had met her closest friends. When she met Keira Walsh, it was like something in the universe clicked. The rest of the England squad used to joke that the two of them were the same person but in different fonts, and they might as well have been right. The two women had the same awkward sense of humour and were able to guest what the other needed or wanted with having to express anything.

Upon meeting the younger French-Canadian woman, Lucy Bronze had immediately felt a strong feeling of protectiveness. This feeling grew even more when one night the Canadian woman had shared with their small friend group that she wasn’t close to her family. Maybe it was because she knew that the girl had nobody to count on, in England or even in her home country, but the woman started to treat the younger brunette like she was part of her family. She was like a big sister to Rosalie and loved the girl fiercely. The couple had become Rosalie’s family during her years in London, but the distance made it hard for them to see each other outside of camps. Still the girls kept in touch regularly and had facetime movie nights on a weekly basis. They were in fact the first ones Rosalie had told about her move, and she would be lying if one of the big reasons why she accepted so fast was because she knew her two best friends were playing for this team.

Setting up her stuff wasn’t long. She had brought a few picture frames, mainly pictures of her, Lucy and Keira, of her, Beth, Viv, Leah and Lia, her closest Arsenal friends, that she put on her desk and plugged her camera and laptop to the screens. She still had about an hour and a half before lunch so she decided to finish editing the pictures from the night before.

She knew someone was making their way towards her office just by the sound of football boots on the hard floors. Still, too engrossed in her work, Rosalie did not lift her head until a very familiar voice spoke.

“You know, if you missed us this much, you could’ve called instead of stalking us all the way here.” She could recognize that strong northern accent anywhere. Leaning against her door frame, in the same training kit that Alexia was wearing, Lucy was smiling brightly at her friend. The smile on Rosalie’s face lit up the whole room and warmed up the English woman’s heart. It had been a while since she had seen her friend with a genuine smile on her face. She almost tumbled over trying to catch the smaller woman who had jumped in her arms.

“Shouldn’t you be training?” A quick look behind her showed the pitch empty.

“Everyone is in the gym, we figured we’d come get you to meet everyone now.” She said dragging the girl out of her office.

“Wait a minute,” she made a beeline to her office to grab the usb key containing the picture she wanted to give the media team and followed the woman out in the corridor.

“How are you settling here? You know, we feel bad about not helping you move.” Rosalie understood perfectly well why Keira and Lucy weren’t able to come give her a hand. With the away games, training and media duty, the women were swarmed and didn’t get a minute to themselves. Still, the lack of extra pairs of arms and someone to push her meant that a lot of boxes remained untouched.

“Don’t worry, I’m good.” She said with a small smile. By the look the older woman was giving her, Rosalie knew that her little lie didn’t go through. But Lucy chose to drop the subject knowing that pestering her friend was not the way to go in this situation.

“I'll show you around the training center but first, everyone is in the gym so we can start there.” She said walking ahead of the brunette. “ The trainers wanted you to know that you have access to it whenever you want and if you'd like they can help you with your training.”

“ What do you mean?” The French-Canadian was confused as she caught up with the taller woman.

“ Well… when the news of your arrival came out, people started to ask questions. They found out who you were through management and they apparently told the girls to talk to us because we knew you.” Lucy said in an apologetic tone. She knew that even though her friend was well known in her field, she liked to keep her life private. “ We didn’t say much, don't worry, but we have some grade A stalkers in this team.”

“ Oh mon dieu ,what did they find?” The brunette said, hiding her face behind her hands. She didn’t have anything crazy on her social media, but she did have a couple pictures from her college football career that looked a little weird along with some pictures of her races, triathlons and marathons that were surely not her best angles.

“ Everything darling,” Lucy said laughing, “ They especially loved the beach pictures and the triathlon ones, you made quite the impression, Frenchy.”

The girl could not be more mortified. Those pictures were not bad. In fact, she was quite proud of them, but it was the fact that the whole team had seen her in her bikini or dying during a race before actually meeting her. She simply wasn’t a fan of the fact that they knew so much already. But then, it was only fair, she thought, since their whole lives were plastered in tabloïds and discussed in social media all the time. The difference was that the photographer had never been in their position.

Lucy chose this exact moment to open the door leading to the gym and Rosalie’s ears were instantly flooded with rapid spanish banter and that freshly cut grass smell that she loved. The room was extremely bright due to the fact that it had direct access to the pitch, which meant that a slight breeze from the outside kept the gym cool and fresh. Almost every station was occupied by players, sometimes alone, but mostly in pairs. The first one to notice their arrival was none other than Mapi, who was helping a certain captain keeping her balance on a platform. She waved excitedly which caused the blond to lose balance and almost fall to her face. The look she sent the Zaragozian would have scared anyone in their right mind. When she realized that her look didn’t get the reaction it deserved she turned her gaze to the source of her training partner’s distraction, only to lock eyes with the photographer.

The contact didn’t not last long since the commotion had caught everyone’s attention. They quickly formed a half circle around the girl, seemingly waiting for her to say a few words.

“ hola,” Rosalie wasn’t a shy person but she was definitely intimidated by the women in front of her. A smile from the couple that she had met in the morning was the little push she needed to continue. “ My name is Rosalie Marineau and I am Barça’s new head photographer. I am very excited to work with all of you. " she said smiling "Don’t worry, I’ll always get your best angle.”

Smiles filled the room and everyone stepped forward to introduce themselves. The first to reach the woman was Mariona who shook her hand and welcomed her. Next were Patri and Pina who both looked like over excited children. They both gave the girl hugs and started to ask different questions only to be pulled away by Irene and Aitana. The taller woman had a warm smile and a very calm demeanor that instantly made Rosalie feel at ease with her. The smaller woman pulled her in a hug and asked her about her move and how she was settling in this new city.

A voice she knew all too well interrupted the conversation and arms wrapped around the photographer from behind. As soon as she smelled the familiar perfume, the Canadian spun around and wrapped her arms around her best friend. “ Hello Frenchy''

Keira didn’t let go of the woman and gave an apologetic smile to the two Spanish players who smiled and left, understanding that this was a private reunion. “ I had to fight Lucy to go get you but the old hag still has some spunk in her.”

The comment made Rosalie laugh and pull away without letting go completely of her friend. At this moment, Lucy arrived next to the blond and gave her a small shove. “ I heard that.”

A few other players came to introduce themselves but Keira and Lucy stayed by the brunette’s side. When the last of the girls left, the photographer turned to her friends only to see them looking over her shoulders.

“ Hola, I don’t think we have been introduced”

The photographer turned around swiftly only to freeze on the spot at the woman before her. Words seemed to escape her as her lips parted but no words came out. Alexia Putellas was a woman with a commanding presence and piercing eyes. She towered over the photographer by a few inches and even with a polite smile on her face, she held herself with a confidence that would make anyone shrink beside her. A sharp elbow in her ribs shook up the girl and prompted her to finally speak.

“ Oui, Bonjour mademoiselle,”

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