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lokissweater · 5 months ago

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birds of a feather . ۫ ꣑ৎ .

{olympic figure skater!satoru gojo x olympic figure skater f!reader}

summary: you and satoru have known each other since childhood, two little birds navigating through life together as you shared one dream in common— to win gold at the olympics, you both a figure skating pair as you moved and performed and fell in love as the years went by, both balancing off a trembling tight rope and holding on to keep each other in place, a silent agreement that if you indulged and fell into the depths of the truth of what you were, you’d run the risk of losing your careers and each other, yours and satoru’s biggest fears. but you’re growing, and it’s getting harder to hold back… especially for satoru— that trembling tight rope on the verge of snapping in two.

warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, childhood best friends to lovers trope, cursing, DIABOLICAL ANGST BUT WITH HAPPY ENDING I PROMISE!, mentions of death and loss, mentions of injury and blood, FLUUUFFF, satoru loves loves loves you, SMUUUTT, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it y’all), creampie, pussy eating, dom satoru, pussy drunk satoru, DIRTY TALK, pet names, figure skating, the olympics, true love <3

word count: 22.3k (I KNOW PLEASE GIVE ME A CHANCE PLEASE—)

authors note: YYYOOOUUU GUUUYYSSS THIS ONE IS MY BABBBYYY AND IM CRYING NOW WRITING THIS LMFAOAOAO. i hope you all love it seriously i GLADLY worked day and night writing this and i’d do it all over again just to see y’all happy :) THANK YOU for your support it is UNREAL, and like always, I LOOVEEE YOUUU MWAAHHH <333

you first met satoru when you were six at the skating rink.

he was only a year older than you, both of your mothers coincidentally signing you up for the same youth ice skating lessons for beginners, meeting and chatting it up seeing as you and satoru were the youngest in age out of the rest of the parents there and their children, you both automatically put together by your coach and separated from the older kids to do warm ups.

and even though the age difference was only a year, satoru at first treated you like a little helpless tiny thing who needed assistance in everything— the cute pink ribbons in your hair doing you an injustice and further implementing the image of a little girl who had no clue of what was going on around her, thinking you were cutesy and he was determined to be your little knight in shining armor when the time came.

until he saw you skate.

what satoru didn’t know, was that you were a prodigy— related to one of the most famous ice skaters in olympic ice skating history, akira, as her talent was blessedly passed down to you through your fruitful system and the lucky processes of genetics— chosen as you barely even had to be taught, you catching everything right away by the coach without any sort of slip and fall… unlike satoru who was clumsily struggling to even glide through the ice without wobbling.

and little satoru was astonished by you and your talent, his first impression of you drastically changing by the end of the first lesson as he shakily slid across the ice over to where you were, patiently doing little turns on the ice while you waited for your mother to finish up talking to another lady (it was satoru’s mother).

“hi!” he had greeted you, a huge goofy smile on his face as you slowed down and looked at him, returning a shy smile of your own.

“hi.”

“i’m satoru!” he extended a hand, eyes shooting wide as he suddenly lost his balance and slipped forward, on the brink of face planting on the ice as his hands quickly flailed out and gripped the edge of the rink to save himself.

you giggled, tiny hands reaching and holding his arm steady as he tried to regain his balance.

“are you okay?” your shy voice asked, and he grinned through his wobbling.

“yeah! i’m okay! don’t worry!”

but he still couldn’t stabilize himself.

“maybe we should sit on the bench?” you suggested sweetly. “so you don’t fall…”

“okay!”

you gripped him as hard as you could (which really wasn’t a lot for a six year old) and slowly moved with him on the ice, supporting him until you were both out of the rink and seated on the bleachers.

“what’s your name?” he chirped, his hands clutching on the edge of the bench as he leaned forward and looked at you kindly, legs swinging.

“y—y/n.”

“nice!” he cheesed, looking at you. “i saw you skate. you’re really good!”

“t—thank you.” you mumbled, shy and alarmed that a boy was talking to you.

“when did you start skating?”

you looked at him confusedly. “um.. today?”

his eyes bulged.

“hah?! today?!”

you jumped at his outburst, cheeks pink as you quickly nodded.

“wowww!…” he gushed with stars in his eyes. “that’s great! i saw you doing turns and things. i can barely move on the ice… it’s slippery.”

“well—” you peeked up at him shyly. “my—my aunt taught me some stuff… but not a lot.”

“you have someone in your family that skates?” he asked excitedly with huge blue eyes. “how cool! hopefully i can catch up to you and at least move…”

“that’s okay...” you smiled. “i know you will.”

“really?!” he gushed again before leaning back, nodding his head cutely. “if you think so, then i know so!”

and you giggled at him, your timid wall slowly crumbling down at his bubbly and kind personality as he was a chatterbox and talked to you about anything that had to do with olympic ice skating— him knowing so much about it and nearly screaming his head off and panicking when he found out that your aunt was none other than akira, now knowing exactly why you were so good at skating in the first place.

satoru looked up to you. so much so that it was comical— seeking your approval over the following years during lessons and not even listening to the damn coach himself as he listened more to you, wanting you to teach him how to do bunny hops or backward crossovers and giving a big fat attitude to anyone else who tried to coach him, whining and snoring away until you and your little bows skated over to him to teach him.

and because of that you spent a lot of time with satoru in and out of lessons, even more than you ever spent with your own friends at school as you clung to him at all times— him cheering and encouraging you on when you were shy in certain situations, and you teaching him everything you could about skating and bringing him little bags of strawberry gummy puffs since he had the biggest sweet tooth you had ever seen, you both cemented and stubbornly attached to the hip with neither wanting to let go.

and when your mother’s planned a little playdate at the local outdoor ice skating rink on a chilly december day— an enormous christmas tree sitting tall and glorious by the rink with twinkling star-shaped fairy lights and jingle bells surrounding the plaza, you and satoru spinning each other around and dancing and giggling over the murmur of classic christmas songs, they saw the potential… an idea sparking in their heads amongst their cooing and picture taking.

you and satoru were both originally put into the ice skating world to train and be independent professional skaters, olympic athletes to be more specific when the time came.

but that concept quickly changed the second you met.

now— you and satoru were an olympic ice skating pair, the subject materializing when your mother’s pulled you out from those simple ice skating lessons (you both already way past getting the basics down since your skill combined with you teaching satoru had you both surpassing the class) and paying for a professional couples figure skating coach to get you guys started now and early.

and the both of you were over the moon, especially satoru, as he absolutely adored you and begged his mother literally every fucking day if he could go over to your house or over to the ice skating rink with you to dance, you doing the same and the two of you crying and wailing on the floor whenever times wouldn’t work out and plans fell through, your mother’s having to give in and drag you to each other’s houses so you would both stop crying.

when akira found out you were officially figure skating, she nearly drove into the side of a building speeding over to your house from being out of the country for so long competing.

“is it true?!” she burst through the doors, your mother rolling her eyes after being startled half to death over her bizarre behavior. “is my little niece gonna be a figure skater like me?!”

you gasped excitedly upon seeing her, getting up from your spot on the rug and running over to akira’s open arms, leaving your coloring book and crayons behind as she swung you around.

“she started when she was six you know that…” your mother grumbled, folding various kitchen towels.

“but you just told me now that she’s not independent!” akira countered, setting you down and holding you out at arms length, eyes wide and eager. “—but partner figure skating! like me!”

she shook you. “where is he?! your partner! is he here? is he your age? is he nice?”

you perked up and looked over to the kitchen. “oh mommy! satoru should come and meet—”

“his name is satoru? oh my goodness how cuteeee!” she cooed, pinching your cheeks. “is he handsome? do you like him? do you have a crush on him—”

your little cheeks blazed as your mother threw a kitchen towel at her.

“she’s eight aki! jesus christ.”

“love has no limits.” akira wiggled a finger, and you giggled.

your mother called satoru’s place soon after, his mother excitedly conversing over the other line about how the akira was finally back in town and how satoru was gonna lose his mind once he saw her— you knowing he was the biggest fan and sometimes told you facts during lessons that you didn’t even know about your own aunt.

and when they finally did arrive, satoru was stiff— frozen in place with tight arms at his sides by the living room as his alarmed big blue eyes looked at akira with a sickly pale face, you snickering behind him.

“hi satoru!” akira greeted, leaning down with her hands on her knees to look at him at eye level. “it’s nice to meet you! y/n tells me you like my skating?”

“u—uhuh.” he responded dumbly, and you slapped a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from laughing, knowing satoru would cry and whine about it later if he heard you.

“that’s great! i’m happy you skate too… and with my niece i should say!” she spoke kindly, ruffling his snowy colored hair up and standing upright, placing her hands on her hips and looking like a straight freaking superhero in satoru’s eyes. “you wanna compete in the olympics?”

“uh huh.”

a laughing breath hurled from your throat and your cheeks puffed up like a squirrel, clasped hands still over your mouth and face going red from how hard you were trying to keep it in.

“that’s what i like to hear.” she smiled, a shiny impressive one as satoru still stood there in a stuck daze.

“work hard okay? the both of you. so you can catch up to me someday, yeah?”

your hands slowly fell from your mouth then, eyes filled with admiration and determination as you both eagerly nodded, looking at each other hopefully.

“you think—” satoru stammered, looking at akira. “you think we can… win three gold medals like you?”

“oh absolutely!” she shrugged. “i don’t doubt it at all.”

you and satoru gushed, glittering little eyes as you stared up cutely at akira, her giving you both a silly grin.

“how long have they been doing partner work?” she asked your mother suddenly, watching the way you and satoru chattered then excitedly about the actual possibility of competing for the olympics someday.

“mmm, i wanna say for about a year and a half? maybe two?” she looked over at satoru’s mother, who nodded in agreement. “they’re with a couple’s figure skating coach right now.”

akira hummed and shifted her gaze back down between the two of you.

“i’m training them from now on.”

both mothers froze, eyes wide as they stared at her.

you and satoru hadn’t even realized what she said, still caught up in your little bubble of the olympics and metals and competitions until your mother caught your attention.

“did you hear?”

you shook your head. “hear what!”

“akira wants to coach you and satoru.”

his jaw dropped and he nearly passed out on the floor, you quickly grabbing his shoulders as he reeled over.

“are— are you sure?” your mother continued, looking at her sister now. “aren’t you busy? i thought you were only here for the weekend.”

she waved her off. “i need a break from skating for a little… at least until the next olympics.”

akira turned to you then and smiled warmly. “and i wanna coach my little niece and her new buddy! if that’s okay?”

“yesyesyesyes!—”

both you and satoru bounced up and down and cheered, arms up as you tackled and hung off of akira like a jungle gym, her laughing and smiling big at your enthusiasm.

akira was the most important figure in your life, right next to satoru as she became a mother figure to the both of you as well as your mentor.

and training with her was not easy— your age not an excuse at all whatsoever in her eyes to not learn proper figure skating moves and technique, saying it would only serve you right in the end if you started adapting your bodies to it now rather than later.

and like most things, akira was right. but even though practices were grueling and tough to the point where you had to drag satoru across the ice to get up, she always tried to make them fun in the end— cracking jokes and teaching you guys silly little tricks that you could do with each other on the ice that she figured out over her years of skating with her partner, taking you both out for ice cream frequently after and telling you of her travels competing around the world, the people she’d met, and the titles she’d won— all things that were you and satoru’s ultimate dream as you listened eagerly.

by the time you were twelve and satoru was thirteen, it was obvious you guys were meant to be olympic athletes together.

“you need to pick your leg a little further up on the spin, toru.”

he stuck his tongue out. “says who.”

“says me.” you poked his cheek. “and i’m pretty sure aki told you before she left too.”

“yes ma’am!” he nodded, gliding a bit further away from you on the ice before picking his momentum up and reaching you, him bending his knees and wrapping his arms around your torso as you both went into fast spins, one leg extended for the both of you as your arms gripped over his shoulders— practicing the routine akira had given you for your upcoming competition.

“yeah like that!” you smiled, spins gradually slowing down and satoru coming back up from his bend until you both stood still on the ice. “good job toru!”

he grinned and ruffled your hair. “thanks!”

“mhm!” you responded, turning and skating away to the edge of the rink to hide the blush that was rising in your cheeks.

“what?!” he whined. “where are you going? do i stink?”

“no!” you laughed, shaking your head. “just the usual sweat and B.O.”

“aw no!” he quickly skated to the edge of the rink and out before flying for his duffel bag. “i hate being a man i hate puberty this is ridiculous—”

“i’m kidding im kidding!” you called from across the ice, cackling when he stopped and whipped his head over, glaring at you. “you’re fine toru— not stinky.”

“well you’re stinky for putting me in distress how about that?” he huffed, an eventual smile playing at his lips as he put down his duffel bag and went inside the rink again.

akira was currently on her way to compete at the olympics for her fourth gold medal in partner figure skating, you and satoru having no doubt in your minds that she was going to absolutely clear everyone else there and get it, as she’s never gotten silver or bronze or anything lower than that.

“when do we fly to see aki again?” satoru called from across the ice, gliding to and fro in figure eights. “don’t say tomorrow morning because i haven’t started packing yet heh… oops.”

you giggled. “it is tomorrow morning, dummy.”

“no!” he stopped and shoved his hands in his hair. “i haven’t even started planning my outfits! oh i was gonna take so many pictures what am i supposed to do now—”

you laughed loudly and skated back over to him, hands wrung behind your back as you looked at him cheekily. “you’re silly toru. outfits for what? literally just show up.”

“it’s not everyday we leave the country y/n!” he whined. “i wanted to sport my best and look cool, dang it.”

you playfully rolled your eyes and lifted your hand, patting his head.

“i’ll show up in pajamas and you show up in yours, and we’ll call it a day. hm?”

he grinned.

“matching? or seperate? and what color? plaid?”

“toru!”

he laughed and skated past you, nudging your shoulder with his in the process. “i’m just messing with youuu, matching obviously!”

satoru came back around, reached up and straightened the ribbons in your hair, little white bows sitting pretty as a blush rose to his cheeks when he was done.

“wanna run it three more times and call it?” he suggested. “i wanna make sure i get what you told me down before we go.”

you smiled and quickly nodded, taking satoru’s extended hand and skating together to first position.

watching akira win gold in person for the first time in your life was an experience you’ll never forget.

and she did it fucking beautifully.

with every precise move, with every articulate angle you and satoru screamed and yelled like crazy people in front of the rink while waving around your countries tiny flags, cheering with fat tears rolling down your faces when she successfully landed each time, holding each other so tight with mushed up cheeks throughout her routine with her partner and still in anxiousness when the time came for revealing final scores.

no one could skate like her. absolutely no one as she speedily glided across the ice and spun, prepped herself for the hardest most impressive turns you had ever seen in your life, and performed a quadruple axel rotation in the air all on her own— things that have always earned her the highest scores for three successive olympic years.

and four now— because when akira and her partner stepped up on that podium, you and satoru had to basically be yanked back by your mothers with the way you both tried to jump over the edge of the rink to her, her standing there like a beacon of light on the first place podium, a gold medal hung rightfully around her neck with flowers in her arms as she smiled so so big and happily, her eyes not once leaving you and satoru.

eventually when the ceremony was over, amongst all of the buzz and the crowd roaring and picture taking— akira quickly skated over to the two of you and leaned on the edge of the rink.

“akiiii!” you both wailed and flung your arms around her neck, her giggling and hugging you both back as best as she possibly could despite the mass amount of bouquets in her hands.

“did i do okay?!” she yelled over the noise.

you both pulled back and looked at her like she was insane.

“did you do okay?!” you gawked.

“aki— you won a fucking gold medal!” satoru yelled.

“HAH!” she laughed loudly. “don’t say that word in front of your mommy satoru she’ll chop my head off and kill me!”

you both giggled uncontrollably.

akira leaned her head in then and you and satoru followed through, all three foreheads resting against each others.

“listen to me for a second.“ she started. “you guys are birds of a feather, okay? you need to stick together and fly together as one.”

she let you both go and dropped the bouquets she was holding on the icy floor before placing a hand on yours and satoru’s outer cheeks, bringing you in. “don’t fight. don’t separate. don’t leave each other. you need to keep each other and what you have safe.”

you both quickly nodded, tears funnily gathering at the corners of your eyes at what she was saying, and she smiled.

“yes partner figure skating is about chemistry and technicality, but it’s about love… and sometimes just that. without genuine love, nothing will click.” she let your cheeks go and grabbed her shiny gold medal, holding it up. “this will be yours. i promise you.”

akira put down her medal, wiping both yours and satoru’s wet cheeks. “birds of a feather. stick together. keep each other safe. do you understand?”

the two of you sniffled and nodded.

“and i need to stop cussing in front of you guys during practices, don’t i?!” she smiled warmly, and you and satoru shook your heads frantically.

“no keep doing it!—”

“it’s funny please!—”

ever since akira told you that, it became you and satoru’s thing.

before and after every competition, with every hello and every goodbye at the beginning and end of the day, throughout the hours randomly whenever you both felt like it, you’d lock pinkies and reiterate ‘birds of a feather’ before kissing your thumbs and locking your promise in place— another one of the many other ways you’d show that you loved each other.

but whether it was platonically or romantically remained unknown until you both hit high school.

perhaps it had always been romantically… that you weren’t exactly sure of. but the way you and satoru had been treating each other since you were literally the age of six, made the technicalities of what it was blurry and a little confusing— for you couldn’t even remember when it was that you started loving satoru.

maybe it was that very first day when he skated over to you, wobbly and clumsy with a cheesy smile.

and as if it wasn’t already confusing enough of what the two of you were, the way you acted made it ten times worse.

but you’d been that way since forever— embracing each other a little longer than you should, innocently kissing each others cheeks and heads and hands, calling each other pet names and being each other’s dates to every single school dance—

but it was all harmless. not a single bad thought behind it and doing it like a reflex.

it was like you both were line balancing across the thinnest tight rope known to mankind— flimsy and unsteady, always on the verge of toppling over and falling completely into the darkening depths of the truth of what you were, but catching each other just before you did to regain balance back on the rope.

neither of you said it, but if you and satoru ever dared to be anything more than friends, and if something were to happen where you had to break up— you’d lose your first love, your best friend, and your entire career all in one.

the consequences were too drastic— you both knew that.

and you didn’t want to break your promise… so you acted blind to it.

by the time you were seventeen and satoru was eighteen, akira started training you for the international skating union competition to earn a spot for the olympics.

well— she actually started when you were about fourteen, but as the years progressed, her coaching and critiques got increasingly more difficult and nitpicky as well as the moves she taught you, wanting you both to build endurance to it and perfect it so that by the time you reached the age requirement for the olympics— it would be easier to train for it and be formidable competitors against the other pairs.

you and satoru wanted to be olympians more than anything else in your lives, and akira knew just how important this was for the both of you— making it her absolute mission to help accomplish solely that as she saw herself through the two of you.

your dreams were just like hers, and she respected and nurtured the fact with everything that she had.

“up! aaand up! and take her— throw— land oh shit—”

just as you had landed a semi complex throw jump, you lost balance and landed right on your ass, sliding across the ice on your side.

it was rare when you fell, and you absolutely despised when you did.

“fuck!” satoru quickly skated over to you and knelt down. “are you okay?!”

“why can’t i land that man?” you whined, covering your eyes.

akira smoothly traveled over to you both.

“it’s okay! we just learned it today sweets like— right now… you’ll have it down in the next five minutes.” satoru smiled softly, carefully helping you up on your skates and checking you over.

“don’t overly punish yourself, y/n.” akira reached and pinched your cheek. “i love that you’ve always been so serious about your technique, but you have to leave room for error my love or else you’ll choke yourself out.”

satoru ran a soothing hand along your back and you smiled cutely up at him, his heart jittering so much from it that he had to quickly retract his arm.

you nodded, always taking satoru’s and akira’s words seriously like inscriptions to a stone wall. “okay!”

he grinned and kissed the side of your head before taking your hand and leading you to first position like always.

akira smirked.

“are you guys together yet!” she blurted from across the ice and you both choked as she skated over.

“are we— are we—” you stammered.

“what?” she breathed out, placing her hands on her hips. “are you at least in love?”

satoru’s blue eyes bulged open with a furious pink tint to both of your cheeks.

“aki!” you whined, embarrassed. “stop it—”

“have you guys at least gone on one date?”

satoru pouted. “no.”

“i’m—” you played with your fingers. “i’m going on one today—”

“you’re what?!” he whipped his head in your direction, eyebrows furrowed.

“yeah…” you looked at him. “i’ve never gone on one and some guy at school asked me so i— i just thought—”

you thought it’d do you some good, since the one you wanted you couldn’t really have.

“are you actually..?” satoru trailed off, an unfamiliar strike of something in his chest making him a little upset.

but he knew damn well what it was.

“but—” akira stared at you wide eyed, pointing at satoru. “but it’s— it’s supposed to be—”

“aki!” satoru quickly grabbed her arm and lowered it, eyes snapping to you next. “is it that one guy you told me about? from your english class?”

“uh huh.” you fidgeted. “he asked me again and i felt bad saying no so i— said yes…”

satoru swallowed, nodding.

“oh you big dummies!” akira groaned. “we’ll talk about this later or else i’m gonna go into fucking cardiac arrest from frustration—”

she skated off to the edge of the rink and out, leaning on it from the outside with her head dramatically hung.

you both got into starting position, but you faltered when you noticed satoru was oddly quiet and stiff.

“…toru?”

he blinked down at you. “huh?”

“you okay?”

“oh!— yeah.” he smiled weakly. “i’m fine baby.”

“you sure—”

“what time is your date?”

you gnawed at the inside of your cheek. “it’s a bit after this... i told him to just give me time to shower and get ready.”

“if he can’t accept you stinky then he’s not for you.” he shook his head in distaste. “he’s already failing in my eyes sweets absolutely flunking. maybe you should cancel it? yeah i say cancel it—”

you laughed, heart in your throat as your eyes gleamed up at him. “i can barely accept you stinky so i wouldn’t blame him—”

“hey!” he placed an exaggerated hand on his chest. “it’s not my fault i literally put my heart and soul out on the ice just for you to skate all over me—”

you gasped offendedly. “i don’t skate all over you—”

“do too!”

“do not!”

“do to—”

“you guys!” akira called. “you know i love it when you guys love on each other it makes me so happy and envision your wedding but right now we have to grind!”

you both froze up and snapped your heads in her direction with red faces, whining.

“aakkiii!—”

you practiced what you had of the routine a couple of more times, a few new moves and jumps added after each run until akira called it a day upon noticing you and satoru were practically sweating your asses off and messing up several times out of exhaustion.

“good job today you guys!” she smiled, patting you both on your shoulders. “i feel like the next time we meet we’ll have the choreography down... from there we just need to perfect it and you should be good for the next competish, okay?”

you both nodded and thanked her, sweet smiles on your faces as she reached up and pinched a side of both your cheeks.

“my little babies.” she cooed. “oh how you’ve grown! you guys were so little when we started now satoru is huge man jesus christ—”

she lifted her hand and reached up to measure satoru’s height from his forehead, her passing it over the top of her head and eyes widening at the huge gap.

he laughed and puffed up his chest. “i got big and strong too aki see?” he flexed an arm. “see? eh?”

“that you did!” she laughed brightly, ruffling up his hair. “the strongest.”

you giggled and skated over to the edge of the rink to pack up, internally panicking a little that you guys went overtime and it was almost time for your date.

“satoru..” akira whispered, looking over her shoulder to make sure you weren’t listening. “what’s going on? you still haven’t asked her out? i thought you said you were gonna do it.”

“no..” he mumbled. “but we can’t. and she knows that too so— so what am i supposed to do—”

she gawked. “do you not see what’s happening?! she’s gonna go on a date with someone else! off with this stupid fear you guys have already seriously.”

“we caan’tt aki.” he pushed sadly. “it’s too risky.”

“but it’s not though!” she threw her arms out. “you guys have known each other since practically birth i feel like if it wasn’t meant to be you would’ve separated by now!”

satoru gnawed at his bottom lip in thought, eyes trained to the way your bows moved in your hair as you swung your duffel bag over yourself, smiling softly once he realized you had kindly packed his things for him too as you sat on the bench and waited for him to take you home.

akira sighed.

“it’s not my place to tell you guys what to do… but love has no limits. you know that.”

he nodded, smiling weakly at her as they skated out of the rink and prepared to lock up, akira hugging you both goodbye with a family kiss to your cheeks and you separating ways with her for the day, but not before her reminding you guys of practice tomorrow and that she loved you over her shoulder.

satoru was dreading you going on your date as he drove— the both of you normally talking about random things like always but his mind unable to stray from the fact that you were actually giving some random dingbat a chance.

it was rare when either of you would talk to or date other people, never even as your heads have always been so focused on figure skating and competitions… but also on each other— taking care and loving one another that you never needed anybody else since you were everything to satoru and satoru to you, and you were both confident that absolutely no one could ever step up to that level.

so why were you going on a date?

but he shouldn’t be like this. he knew that. there was a silent agreement between the two of you to never fall off that thin tight rope and keep each other balanced. and you were allowed to see and date whoever you wanted— something that he probably should do as well to try and get over the fact that you’d never really be his.

satoru pulled up to your driveway and shifted his gear into park.

“thank you toru!” you smiled sweetly, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“you’re welcome.” he murmured. “can i— can i come in with you? and hang while you get ready?”

you quirked a brow. “i thought that’s what we were already doing silly.”

“okay well invite me woman!” you both got out of the car and walked up the steps to your front door. “you can’t just assume. what if i was busy? what if i also had a date? hm?”

you gave him a sly grin as you twisted in your keys to unlock the door. “do you?”

“… no.”

you giggled and pushed open the door, the both of you immediately clasping your hands over your mouths to keep your laughs in at the sight of your mother sprawled out on the couch dead asleep with drool coming out of her mouth, the tv softly playing in the background as you quietly shut the door, went up the stairs and into your room.

satoru sat on your desk chair lazily while you quickly hopped in the shower to get ready for your stupid date, staring at the framed photographs on your nightstand that all consisted of you and him over the years, smiling softly at his favorite— a picture of the two of you when you were babies, cheek to cheek with huge smiles at the park as you held ice cream cones in each of your hands, satoru more than sure akira was the one who took that picture.

the sound of your door clicking shut pulled him from his thoughts as you walked in, drying your pretty hair with your little fuzzy towel and throwing it in the hamper once you were done.

“oh! i was gonna show you! i got these ribbons the other day—” you got down on your knees and looked under your bed, sticking a hand in and pulling out a white box as you picked it up and shuffled with your knees closer to satoru— sitting back on your ankles.

“—i was running out of ribbon so i got these!” you held up the box and satoru took it, examining the various pastel colors with warm eyes. “some of them are polka dotted and i thought that was cute.”

“it is sweets!” he agreed.

satoru loved the ribbons in your hair, and you’d always wear them without fail because you knew just how much he did.

“i wanna start wearing bows too.” he wiggled his eyebrows, and you giggled.

“are you saying you wanna steal my brand toru?” you picked up a blue roll of ribbon from the box, a color that matched satoru’s eyes. “thought you were an honest man?”

he gasped. “i am an honest man! is it not obvious enough when i help you with your math homework? when i sacrifice my dignity and text you answers during your tests?”

you giggled and unrolled a strand of ribbon. “not when you eat all of my sweets that you actively dig through my room for—”

“but they’re always the strawberry gummy puffs!” he whined. “they make me a slut.”

you playfully rolled your eyes and stood, grabbing your little scissors and snipping off a piece of blue ribbon from the roll, stepping in front of satoru and leaning.

“watcha doing?” he asked, placing his hands on your waist.

“i’m putting a little bow in your hair before i leave!”

he hummed. “don’t think it’ll look as good on me as they do on you.”

you blushed, taking little pieces of white hair from the top of his head and wrapping the ribbon around, tying it the same way you’ve been doing for yourself since you were the age of nine.

you took a step back once you were finished and laughed. “you look cute toru!”

he raised a silly brow. “do i still look big and strong?”

“big and strong and pretty—”

“please don’t go.”

you stilled.

“what?”

satoru looked down, his bangs hiding his gorgeous eyes as he did.

“on your date.” he mumbled. “don’t go.”

you placed your hands softly on his shoulders, and his hold tightened a little around your waist.

“why?”

“because like i said if he doesn’t accept you stinky then he can’t have you when you smell like vanilla—”

“toru...” you spoke sternly, softly. “why not?”

you didn’t know why you were pushing it so much… maybe you were trying to see if you could get it out of him— if he had the will to actually say it unlike you…

and you hoped to god he would say it.

he slowly lifted his head and propped his chin up on your tummy, a sour expression on his face as he puckered his lips to the side like a little fish.

“dunno…” he muttered, his gaze flickering to yours and a sense of guilt swarming his chest at the uneasy look you had, his face relaxing as he sighed.

“sorry.” he smiled sheepishly, pulling back and letting go of your waist. “i’m kidding you have every right to—”

“m’not going.” you mumbled as you slid your hands away, looking down and playing with your fingers.

“huh?” he furrowed his brows. “no baby go you should go—”

“i don’t want to.”

you never did in the first place. you had foolishly thought that letting someone else in like this would be good for you and help you establish some sort of… barrier with satoru so you weren’t always suffering so fucking much.

but you were absolutely stupid for that.

all you’ve ever wanted was satoru, and doing something to pull you away from the type of relationship you had with him (whether platonic or romantic you had no freaking clue), was not only hurting you, but hurting him.

you didn’t need anyone else, truly. all you needed was satoru and his silly smile and dramatic antics— to spend time with just him and skate and eat dinner together after practices every night while watching horror movies, laughing so much over his screams that your stomach hurt while he whined about how you were making fun of him.

that’s all you needed… just satoru.

regardless if there was something more in question.

“you don’t want to?” he repeated softly. “why?”

“you know why, toru…”

you had said it so softly he barely caught it, but he did, his breath hitching in his throat.

that was the closest you two had ever gotten to acknowledging it.

you both were silent for a moment, the soft murmur of your tv downstairs filling the void as you looked at each other, tense and waiting for either of you to say something… anything.

but it was like the gravity of the foreseeable consequences settled onto your shoulders, and the pair of you could only sadly smile.

satoru stuck his pinky finger out towards you then.

“birds of a feather?” he murmured.

you breathed out a little through your nose and looped your pinky with his, nodding.

“birds of a feather.”

he kissed his thumb and you did the same before locking the promise.

for the rest of the night, you and satoru watched a bunch of shitty unknown movies to try and see who would break and laugh first— you feeling bad that you had to cancel so last minute on that guy from your english class, but not regretting it at all as you watched satoru scarf down two slices of pizza in one sitting and nearly throw up, you almost falling off the bed from laughing so much and him having to catch you midway down and pull you back up, saying that he was your hero and therefore you should give him your last stash of strawberry gummy puffs as a reward.

it was nearly two am when you and satoru finally settled down, both sprawled over each other on the bed as you stared up at the ceiling and talked about literally anything that came to your minds— stubbornly fighting off sleep for whatever unknown reason in the dark.

“you know this is aki’s last olympics right?” you spoke softly, your arm propped up as you watched the way satoru played with your fingers.

“yeah..” he replied. “i don’t really know how to feel about that.”

“me neither.” you shook your head. “but she said it came at a perfect time because she’d been wanting to retire for a while.”

and now it was yours and satoru’s turn to try and fill the legacy she had built.

he hummed, delicately interlacing your fingers together as the outline of it through the darkness made you blush and smile, the nooks between his digits blessedly made entirely just for you as your fingers slotted perfectly in each spot every time.

and satoru silently vowed for the millionth time in his life that he would always be your hero and keep you safe, a promise that was already tied into your birds of a feather contract, but needing to repeat it to himself anyways while he listened to the sound of your voice talk about your excitement for the upcoming olympics.

and my god were you excited, the both of you— looking forward to seeing akira gracefully take home her fifth fucking gold medal like she always did with no repercussions, seeing her fans and the mass amounts of support she got every year with bouquets and teddy bears and picture taking, but also looking forward to spending even more time with her— for not just practices… but for forever, even more than you already did now as you two were greedy and just loved akira.

you were looking forward to forever, the three of you.

until akira’s accident.

“oh my god i’m gonna throw up—”

satoru hurled over just as you both stepped onto the bleachers at the olympic arena, you laughing and placing supporting hands on his shoulders as you followed your mother and satoru’s to your designated place by the front.

“toru i told you you’d make yourself sick if you didn’t leave that damn dessert table alone.”

“there were cinnamon rolls baby. cinnamon rolls how on earth could i possibly just walk by a platter of cinnamon rolls—”

“okay!” you giggled, carefully leading him to sit down and ruffling his hair once you settled. “i get it! you love cinnamon rolls.”

“not as much as i love you—”

“yuck!” you stuck your tongue out and pushed him away by his cheek, him laughing loudly as he shooed your arm away and grinned.

“toru— this is the last time we’re gonna be sitting here in the bleachers watching aki.” you mentioned. “isn’t that fucking nuts?”

“now i’m gonna cry and throw up.”

“no!” you giggled and nudged his shoulder. “then you’ll make me cry.”

he smiled and leaned over to plant a quick kiss to your cheek, reaching up and fixing the bows in your hair before looking straight ahead, his sparkling blue eyes staring at the rink.

the crowd roared suddenly and a mix of big and tiny flags of several individual countries waved in the air as you and satoru jumped and screamed when akira glided out with her skates and glittery dress, a huge dazzling smile on her face as she waved at the crowd, her eyes scanning around quickly before they finally landed on you and satoru.

as if she wasn’t already smiling enough, it grew bigger at the sight of you both practically over the fucking rink calling her name, her blowing you both a kiss and connecting her hands together to form a little bird, fluttering it up funnily and making you laugh before spinning around and going to starting position with her partner.

“oh she’s gonna wipe again.” satoru breathed out. “wipe absolute buttcheeks.”

you cackled as you both watched her routine— incredibly fast paced and technical, filled with spins and throw jumps and lifts as she made it known that it was her last year and wanted to leave with a mark, you and satoru absolutely mesmerized by the choreography as a dramatic symphony of a classical piece drummed through your ears by the speakers.

each move was executed beautifully, you and satoru at the edge of your damn seats as akira’s partner lifted her by the arms to settle over his shoulders into a split formation— halfway through the routine already.

“maybe we could do a move like that for when we compete!” you suggested over the music. “i feel like technically it could—”

a hand flew over your mouth as you watched akira topple and slam to the ground upon coming down from her split lift, the spinning blade of her partner slicing through her abdomen as her head nastily collided with the ice— the crowd screaming in terror.

“oh my god!—” your chest moved frantically and you and satoru looked at each other, horrified faces as you watched the backside of her limp body on the ground surrounded by paramedics, her partner hovering over her in complete and absolute distress.

and there was so much blood.

blood that pooled all around her figure and stained her shimmering dress, blood that wouldn’t stop fucking spreading as a stretcher finally made it out on the ice.

“baby.” satoru’s voice shook. “why isn’t aki moving.”

“i— i don’t know—”

“aki!”

you both snapped out of your shocked daze and screamed over the rink and jumped, shoes slipping against the ice as the two of you tried to reach her through your panicked tears and calls, security speeding through and pulling you both back as you watched the paramedics lift her frail body onto the stretcher and away from the rink.

“that’s—” you sucked in a sharp sob. “that’s my aunt please let us go—”

“you need to stay out of the rink—”

“fuck you!”

satoru shoved security away and grabbed your arm, wishing you had your skates on as you both practically crawled over to where akira was being carried out, not giving a single shit about the way your mothers yelling demanded you back as security had to literally pull you and satoru by the ankles, further and further away from the scene and away from akira until the only thing left was her pool of sickly crimson blood in front of you, you and satoru wailing.

akira died at the hospital later that night.

the collision of her head against the ice brought such blunt force trauma that it caused irreversible brain damage, and with the amount of blood that she was already losing from the laceration of the blade— those elements combined didn’t give her a single fighting chance at survival, her fate sealed from the moment her body hit the ground.

it was completely unexpected… an incident like that had never happened in not just olympic partner figure skating, but figure skating competitions as a whole— the severity of the situation so grave that the complex move akira and her partner performed that led to her death was banned from the olympics moving forward.

and you and satoru were fucking ruined.

ruined and crying and clutching over her arms and hands at her hospital bedside, it scaringly cold and stiff and not her usual warmth at all as you couldn’t accept that this was your reality, that akira had left you both all alone after not only her initial familial love that you’d gotten since birth, but after nearly a decade of giggles and skating, her picking you both up from school and cussing up a storm because it made you and satoru laugh as kids, buying you ice cream and taking you out for beach days because she said the sun was good for your skin, harassing you and taking a million pictures of the two of you as she uttered over and over again that love had no limits— your dream of forever with her cruelly severed over the sport you all loved most.

yours and satoru’s mentor, friend, your fucking mother figure— was gone.

your aunt was gone. your own blood.

the entirety of that bullshit situation sort of settled into your minds by the time her funeral came— painfully holding back tears as your family members gave their speeches and final wishes before the lowering of her casket, you and satoru not saying a single word throughout the entire thing until it was just you and him standing in front of her grave site— your mothers waiting for you in their cars.

you both chose not to give speeches. you couldn’t.

“toru.” you sniffled, drowning in your tears as satoru strained to keep his back, lips pulled into a thin line.

“yes pretty.”

“this is so fucked.”

satoru breathed out a weak laugh and let a couple of tears slip down his cheeks, wiping them with the sleeve of his black suit as he grabbed your hand and interlaced your fingers, squeezing it.

“diabolically fucked.” he responded.

there really wasn’t much you could say at that moment in time, the two of you staring at the carvings on her tombstone as the wind softly blew over the petals of her flowers and letters, the day cloudy and cold and just fucked as you silently choked back sobs and whimpers, satoru lamely trying his best to stay strong for you— be your hero as he pulled you into his chest and squeezed you with everything that he had, nose buried in your hair as his tears fell and dampened a few strands.

“birds of a feather, toru.” you spoke softly, both of your frames shaking as the saying itself came from none other than akira.

he firmly nodded, lifting his head and kissing your cheek twice hard before looking at you.

“birds of a feather sweets.” his red teary eyes made your heart ache. “you can’t leave me too, okay?”

you scoffed and wiped your eyes, a sad smile on your face. “i could never… you know that.”

it didn’t really get easier from there, as everything in your lives reminded you of akira.

and though your mother was grieving the loss of her sister, she wanted to be left alone, and the only person that really understood the level of mourning you were on was satoru— him always there in the blink of an eye when you would call him in the middle of the night crying your eyes out while he held you, or when broken sobs wrecked through satoru’s trembling body as he cried into your chest while you held him and vice versa, endless amounts of ‘i miss her’s’ and ‘bring her back’s’ as you took turns depending on the day rolling on the floor unable to physically breathe over the loss as you tried to anchor each other back to normalcy, wondering how the world could be so cruel and continue spinning when you’d just lost half of your hearts.

but it did. it continued to spin and turn and carry on as you and satoru day by day tried to patch over what happened, be there for each other and heal each other as you graduated high school and caught up with satoru in college, still together and still in your stupid limbo of ‘is there something more’ except worse, and still inseparable three years later after akira’s passing.

it didn’t hurt any less, but the days definitely got easier… some harder than others as the time you spent with her became cherished distant memories, feeling eternally grateful for the way she raised and took care of you, for the work she had done, and for the legacy she had built for figure skating olympians around the world.

and because akira was so good and taught you both just as so, satoru and you had a little name of your own as you’ve been sweeping competitions since the age of thirteen, ninety eight percent unbeatable and competitive as other pairs always knew who you were the minute you stepped onto the ice, eager and curious to see if you would make it into the olympics when the time came just like your mentor had done.

some deemed it cheating— unfair due to the fact that you had a four-time gold medalist olympian training you since childhood, but that assumption quickly diminished after her passing when you both continued to wipe competitions and take trophies home purely based on your talent.

and you both agreed to continue your careers without a coach, a decision that didn’t even need to be thought twice over— and you were twenty and satoru twenty one when the time drew near to try for the olympics.

finally.

“my legs are gonna fall off and my balls are gonna droop to the icy floor if you don’t give me a kiss right now.”

“toru!” you giggled loudly, pushing his face away as he puckered up his lips and made obnoxious kissy noises, pulling you in by the waist. “toru focus we’re on a time crunch—”

“time crunch where?” he whined, stomping his blade down on the ice. “we’ve been at it for so long already i’m cold i’m thirsty and i think we should go to that cute christmas festival patch thing you told me aboouuttt!”

“right now?” you asked. “i don’t know toru… i had a set goal for us tonight and if we don’t get it—”

“oh you damn perfectionist.” he scowled, letting you go and quickly skating to starting position. “fine.”

you gave him a knowing smile and skated over to his dramatic sulking figure, kissing his cheek softly and wringing your arms around his neck, pulling him in.

“let’s run it three more times and then we can go to the festival, okay?”

he jumped up like a little kid, eyes hyper and wild. “really? honestly? truly?”

you nodded, gleaming up at him.

“is this a prank?”

“jesus toru you’re making me think i’m keeping you hostage here with how excited you are—”

“yiiippeeeee!—” he grabbed your upper thighs and lifted you before spinning on the ice, the both of you laughing as he roughly turned until he gradually came to a stop, big goofy smiles on your faces as he did so.

satoru loosened his hold as you slowly slid down against his body, faces close and lovesick as his half lidded eyes looked at you, lips stinging to plant directly over yours after so many years of hopeless pining and avoidance, still refusing to acknowledge the situation, but it glaringly obvious at this point.

“what?” you whispered, your eyes fixed on his lips as your blades touched the ice again.

he softly shook his head, blue eyes greedily drinking in your pretty face as he retracted a hand from your waist and brushed his palm over your hair adoringly, hand raising to cup your cheek gently.

was he about to…?

you swallowed, hands gripping his black t-shirt as you waited… anxious, hoping that he would do what you thought he was about to do.

but satoru squeezed his eyes shut in a grimace and quickly kissed the corner of your mouth before turning his back to you and skating to starting position— leaving you incredibly dumbfounded and disappointed.

satoru’s skin felt like it was on fucking fire as he looked at your stunning doe eyes blinking at him from across the rink, heart pulsing uncontrollably as you slowly skated to him and got into position, neither of you uttering a word about it as you ran the choreography three more times like you had agreed on.

you and satoru have had plenty of moments like that… but lately?

it’s been borderline dangerous with how close you’ve gotten to breaking your unspoken rule.

by the end of practice you and satoru excitedly packed up for the christmas festival, more or less stumbling out of the doors of the rink and locking up before throwing your things in satoru’s car and speeding off to the main plaza, cheesy dorky smiles on your faces as you babbled on about all of the things you were gonna do once you got there.

“the s’mores stand! the s’mores stand!” satoru whipped his head comically back and forth between you and the snowy road. “we have to go there and get five nothing less and maybe more—”

“wait! i wanna get some of that hot chocolate we got last year!” you quickly reached and gripped his shoulder. “the one with the chocolate bits in it! and the whipped cream! and the drizzle—”

“oh fuck yeah how could i forget?” satoru made a turn, the shining glimmering lights of the festival and christmas trees coming into view and riling you both up in pure exhilaration. “i gulped down like four cups of those and then threw up in a bush.”

you laughed loudly and shook your head. “i forgot about thaaaattt! toru you always shove shit in your mouth and throw up we have got to work on that—”

“no we don’t!” he cheesed, reaching over and patting over your hair— the smooth ribbon of your thin bows sliding underneath his palm. “i love sweets even if they hurt me. what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. where there is no struggle there is no strength—”

“the only strength i see is a man hunched over puking his guts out.”

“hey!” he pouted, pulling into the lot before parking and turning off the ignition, the both of you hopping out of the car and locking it as you walked towards the main entrance. “and i’ll do it again so what.”

you giggled and interlocked your fingers with satoru’s. “silly silly.”

the festival was lively— huge decorated christmas trees everywhere you went as twinkling fairy lights adorned every corner and direction of the lots premises, several open stands that continuously wafted chocolate and cinnamon and vanilla throughout the entire night that had satoru practically floating through the air following the scent, kids giggling and running around as the soft familiar tunes of christmas music hummed in the background.

“what do you want for christmas, sweets?” satoru asked while chowing down a giant s’more.

“a kiss!” you quipped, giving him a cute silly look as you blew a bit of air over your steaming hot chocolate.

he stopped chewing.

“really?” satoru spoke with his mouthful. “i can literally give that to you right now c’mere—”

“no toru!” your cheeks buzzed a vibrant pink, completely flustered. “you’re supposed to say a big fat no!”

“now why the fuck would i do that...” he grumbled, shoulders slumping from disappointment as he took another big bite of his dessert.

you giggled, looking at him apologetically before standing on your tippy toes and licking a bit of melted chocolate from the corner of his mouth.

and he blinked at you, dumb and still as his cheeks copied the same exact shade as yours.

my god.

you were about to turn him into a freak.

“okay now you have to kiss me.”

“why?!” you laughed. “you had chocolate on your face! i was helping you out.”

“yeah right you little minx.” he scarfed down the last bit of his s’more and threw his little paper tray in the trash can behind him, putting his hands together and shaking off excess crumbs. “that’s actually the most torturous thing you have ever done to me.”

“dramatic!” you exclaimed, laughs escaping you and increasing as you watched satoru’s flustered face pout and glare at you.

you breathed in deeply and settled down, standing up straight as you took a tiny sip of your hot chocolate and smiled. “now i feel bad.”

“you should.”

“can you forgive me?”

“not unless you kiss me.”

“toru!”

“what?!” he pushed. “baby it’s only fair! really! just once and that’s it. a harmless peck nothing more we aren’t doing anything crazier.”

you gnawed at your bottom lip in thought.

technically he was right… it was just one little peck, entirely harmless and cute and wouldn’t have you both falling off of that thin tight rope you guys were still balancing off of.

this would only shake it a little… but then you’d be fine! right?

you were too far gone in the considerations of his proposal as you looked at his absolutely breathtaking blue eyes and face, somehow looking even more angelic as his pinky cold cheeks and nose and scarf covered neck did nothing but make you fall deeper in love with him than you already were.

how someone could look as good as satoru was beyond you.

“just—” you peered up at him. “just one peck okay?”

his eyes widened.

holy shit.

“yes!” he breathed out. “yes yes just one.”

“toru.” you spoke sternly. “i’m serious.”

he frantically nodded, arms already snaking around your waist and bringing you in.

you both couldn’t believe it.

you were about to have your very first kiss.

the two of you leaned in then— softly, timidly, afraid as satoru’s chocolate breath fanned against your nostrils and filled your lungs, lips coming closer and closer until they met in a simple, solid, tiny harmless peck.

satoru felt like his veins were about to pop and explode at the feeling of your delicate soft lips finally on his, the feeling actually fucking unreal as his fingertips went numb and his body tingled all over.

but it quickly became clear that it was not just one harmless peck.

because when it was supposed to be the time for you both to pull away, you and satoru only opened your mouths and kissed deeper— eyelids blissfully closed as your lips smacked so slowly and tenderly, the two of you actively relishing in the moment and just drinking each other’s mouths in as they moved and shifted, deep breaths through your noses as you daze-fully made out with the faint fuzzy sound of jingle bells and christmas music growing increasingly distant.

you tasted so sweet. just like he’d imagined.

but the moment came to and end when you both snapped your eyelids open in realization and released lips, pupils frantic and wide as you searched each other’s eyes for any sign of anger since you both had slipped up and did way more than just a peck.

but there was nothing. obviously there was nothing like that as your shoulders relaxed simultaneously and bashful smiles crossed your faces.

“you taste like chocolate.” he grinned.

you bit your bottom lip in a smile. “so do you.”

“twins.”

“uh huh.”

“i love you.”

you stilled.

you’ve told each other that thousands of times for years, since childhood.

you’ve always said you loved each other and have both known it was laced with those unspoken feelings you had, and you accepted that for as long as you could remember.

but somehow… in someway… it just felt different this time around. profound. more serious.

“i love you.” you responded.

satoru smiled softly and leaned his forehead against yours, basking in each others authentic infatuation for a moment before pulling away.

“can i get another s’more—”

“no!”

satoru ended up getting his second s’more, and you surprisingly ended up partaking in satoru activities and downed three fucking cups of that hot chocolate you loved so much, your tummy full and about to literally burst, but not really giving a shit as you and him were having so much freaking fun— buying little christmas trinkets from the santa shop and building tiny snowmen in the snowy play area filled with a bunch of kids (satoru literally making a tiny dick for one of the snowman and you immediately destroying it and wacking him), even skating in the rink but purely just for enjoyment and not a single thought of what you do professionally crossing your minds.

you stayed there until it was nearly closing time, money absolutely spent from all the things you bought, but your souls happy and warm as you happily walked to the car so satoru could take you home.

on the drive there, you showcased all of the trinkets you both had bought, a particular one catching your eye that you remembered you hadn’t shown satoru yet.

“oh! i got this one—” you dug your hand in the white plastic bag and pulled out a little snow angel, beautiful and glossy as the angels face blushed and smiled. “at the santa shop!”

“it’s cute baby!” he smiled. “for you?”

you shook your head. “i got it for aki. for the next time we visit her.”

his heart softened, nodding.

you and satoru tried your best to visit her grave as often as you possibly could, sometimes nearing four times a week to pay your respects and chat with her for a little while, filling her in a bit on your lives to bring back the feeling of what it was like to just talk to her in any way you could, like you had the fortune of doing once before.

“it kinda looks like her.. doesn’t it?” he questioned, pointing to the figure.

“it does right!” you expressed. “that’s why i got it… it reminded me of her.”

“she’ll love it.” he grinned, gently running the pad of his finger against your cold cheek before turning his attention back to the road.

you and satoru didn’t mention the kiss again as you were funnily still in shock over it, but the butterflies in your stomachs and the sole memory of it did more than enough as you climbed into bed with an already snoring satoru, him sleeping over for the night (when was he not) as you nudged your way under his arm and cuddled yourself in his chest, his slumbered state pulling you in like muscle memory.

you both only had two more practices left before the international skating union competition. once there, you and satoru had to land a spot in the top three chosen by the national olympic committee to earn an official spot in competing for the olympics, a task that was already vigorous and exhausting and nerve wracking, but one you both were more than ready for.

general admittance to competing in the olympics was essentially fourteen years in the making, one that wouldn’t have been possible in the first place if it wasn’t for akira.

“i think we should add a spin to this lasso lift.” you suggested, you and satoru taking a break from running the routine and standing by the bleachers during practice— watching a recently recorded take of your choreography to point out mistakes that flew under your radars.

“a spin?” he asked. “how sweets.”

“so when you lasso me around into the lift—” you rewinded the video and pointed. “since you’re holding me up over your head and we’re balancing with our hands, i say you maybe push me up to kind of like— propel me to do a triple rotation spin back down.”

“and then from there i catch you?”

“yeah!” you nodded. “and we’re traveling across the ice.”

satoru pursed his lips. “that’s kind of hard… you sure?”

“we’ve done worse toru.” you laughed. “i feel like this would give us more points.”

“oh it definitely would.” he nodded. “okay baby.”

“yay!” you cheered. “let’s practice the lift and propel on the mats first because if not i’m gonna eat shit.”

satoru laughed and sat down on the bleachers with you, quickly taking off his skates before standing and kneeling in front of you, untying your laces and slipping your skates off for you as you cutely smiled, him feeling like your little hero and knight in shining armor even if it was for something so minuscule.

he loved doing things for you.

in the middle of you and satoru practicing the move on the mats, your mother came in through the front doors of the ice rink.

“hi!” she greeted, holding up two wide rectangular boxes. “your costumes came in!”

“oh thank god!” you breathed out, satoru setting you down on your feet before you both ran to see. “i thought they weren’t gonna come in on time!”

“are they cool?!” satoru tumbled out. “do they scream please let me in the olympics?!”

you snorted and shoved his shoulder playfully as you unwrapped your boxes, your eyes shining in delight at the sight of your rhinestoned pale baby blue dress, a shade you purposefully picked out as it matched the color of satoru’s eyes— you lifting it with your fingertips from the box and gushing.

you turned it around and held it up against your frame as satoru pulled his top out— a white, tight long sleeved low cut v-neck button up that you already knew was gonna hug his yummy biceps so good, the thought of it making you bite the inside of your cheek as he checked over his black slacks.

your mother clasped her hands together, holding it to her mouth as her eyes gleamed over the two of you.

“i can’t believe it’s happening now.” she spoke softly, you and satoru diverting your attention to her and smiling. “for so long it was always just a distant thing you know? but now it’s here. actually.”

“fuck i know right.” you responded.

“language, y/n.”

“but i’m twenty!” you whined, pouting as satoru snickered behind you.

your mother rolled her eyes and cupped yours and satoru’s chins under her hands.

“good luck next week, alright? i know you guys will sweep.” she pushed. “make aki proud.”

the smiles on your faces grew, nodding as she squeezed your chins and released.

“oh! satoru—” your mother picked up her jacket and swung her purse over her shoulder. “your mom won’t be home for the night her trip got extended until tomorrow… you can sleep over at our house if you want so you’re not over there alone? or y/n can stay with you?”

“oh okay!” he spoke kindly. “thank you for letting me know!”

she smiled and nodded, hugging you both goodbye before leaving the rink.

your head whipped in his direction.

“toru if i sleep over at your house we can watch horror movies and actually scream as loud as we want without worrying about waking anybody up.”

his eyes bulged open. “oh my god you’re right! dibs i get to choose—”

“fuck!—”

by the end of practice you and satoru mastered the addition you added into the lasso lift, performing it beautifully on the ice over and over again until it was like simple reflex, calling it a day after a while and packing your things up to drive to satoru’s house.

you both took turns stepping in the shower to get rid of the sticky sweat that lingered on your skin, changing into comfy pajamas after as you tiredly settled in satoru’s big comfy bed— him flicking through his selection of horror movies and debating which one to pick.

“do you wanna watch something gory or just horror.”

“gory!” you perked up. “i need to work on not being so queasy.”

“but you seem fine when i throw up?”

“that’s because i’m used to it.” you laughed, head resting on his shoulder as he picked a movie and threw his remote somewhere across the bed, his arm coming to wrap around your tummy and pull you in.

it wasn’t like the selection mattered anyways, because fifteen minutes into the movie you were already falling asleep, hand resting on satoru’s torso as he continued to watch it— for some reason still wide awake even after skating for hours.

your sleepy sudden movements from your hand made him weirdly stiffen and relax every single time, your brows furrowing at the feeling and eyes fluttering open when he wouldn’t stop doing it.

“toru… are you still ticklish?” you mumbled sleepily.

he stiffened again.

“no.” he answered softly. “why..?”

you lazily grinned.

“youuu suureee?”

terror struck him as he sensed exactly what the fuck you were about to do.

“please spare me please spare me—”

you jumped on him and tickled his entire upper body, satoru laughing and gasping as he smacked your hands away and twisted and turned, his strong grip making it hard for you to tickle him at one point as you stubbornly swung a leg over his waist and settled over his lap, attacking him while he yelped and screamed.

“baby!” he gasped. “baby please! have some mercy is this how much i mean to you?!”

you giggled and finally stopped, hands retracting as you settled them on your hips. “that’s what you get for lying to me.”

“i was lying for my safety.”

“uh huh.”

you both grinned, satoru’s eyes occasionally flickering down to you straddling his lap with your pretty plushy thighs and blushing, trying to keep his gaze on yours to refrain himself from doing something a little too mental and weird.

but it was too fucking late, because it took no time at all for the blood to rush to his pathetic dick and harden.

surprisingly though, you were the one that was mental— the feeling of his cock against your clit undeniable as the uncomfortable shifts of satoru’s waist only stimulated it against your little nub and made you bite down hard on your bottom lip, shaky breaths leaving your mouth as it was getting harder and harder for you to restrain yourself from satoru’s godlike existence.

and your body was just not listening as you timidly rolled your hips over his crotch— your short shorts criminally thin as you felt just how big satoru’s length was, mouth watering as your palms timidly settled over his chest for stability, grinding on his cock harder.

satoru’s eyes were blown out as he watched you do something so— so lewd, his mind wandering if you were fully and properly there as something like this was absolutely breaking your unspoken rule, and you were more strict about it than he was.

but he didn’t want you to stop. god no.

at this point, you and satoru were off that metaphorical tight rope and hanging on by two hands— having both failed at keeping each other balanced as you rolled and rolled your hips deliciously on his dick, his chest quickly rising and falling at the feeling of your warm pussy over his groin and at the sight of you using him to get yourself off.

your little needy mewls made his hands tremble as he threw his head back on the pillow, eyes pathetically fucked out over something so simple.

“fuck me..” satoru groaned, hands coming up to rub over his face as his hips lifted to meet your grinding.

him doing that broke you out of your haze and you stiffened, satoru taking his hands away from his face with pinched brows at the sudden halt.

what happened?

“okay!” you laughed nervously, an alarmed expression as you swung your leg off of his lap and scrambled under the covers, pulling it completely over you as you shamefully looked anywhere and everywhere but satoru.

but he was out of it.

undoubtedly out of it now that you did what you did… wanting more, wanting all of you as he snatched the covers off of your frame and you squeaking as a result.

“why’d you stop.” he whispered, thumb raising to trace your bottom lip.

“i don’t— i don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“yes you do—”

“absolutely not—”

“i want you.” he cut you off. “i want you bad and i know you want me too so let’s just— let’s just do this once, okay? once please just to see what it’s like and it’ll never happen again.”

your eyes remained wide as you looked at his desperate frantic ones, his hands already kneading at your waist and thighs.

he was entrancing you into his proposal again, exactly the same way as when you both kissed for the first time at the festival as he leaned down and nibbled at your jaw, slotting himself in between your legs.

“do— do what?”

“fuck.” he mumbled, rolling his hips down on your pussy rough and you gasping at the sensation of his big cock against your clit again.

you whimpered as he rutted into you, hands flying to squeeze his biceps as his wet mouth moved down to your neck, licking and gnawing as he waited for your response.

“but isn’t that—” you stifled a moan. “isn’t that too far toru?—”

“please baby please.” he picked his head up and looked at you. “just once i swear once so we see what it’s like and get it out of our systems and never do it again. i promise.”

he needs to kiss you right fucking now.

your eyes fluttered closed as he continued to hump you, licking your lips as you weakly tried to look into his eyes.

“you swear?” you breathed out. “swear it just once and that’s it—”

“i swear i swear i swear—”

“okay then fuck me toru please—”

satoru nearly cried as he ripped himself away from you to frantically pull off his shirt and pants, him slapping your hands away when you tried to take off your own clothes as he wanted to do it himself— lifting your shirt over your head and downright tearing your shorts in half as he flung them down and across the room, your little pink bra and panties set actually turning him into a complete mess as he hovered back over you and shoved his tongue in your mouth.

you still tasted just as sweet as he remembered.

“been dreaming of—” mmpf— “kissing you since you let me, sweets.”

“yeah?” your lips moved sloppily with his as you snuck a hand in your panties and dipped your fingers in your pussy, collecting your arousal. “you missed me toru?”

“uh huh.” he breathed hotly against your lips, hand coming to slide underneath your bra to cup your bare tit. “every fucking night i’d jerk my dick dry thinking about it.”

his words made your clit twitch as you pushed him off your lips.

“open your mouth.”

satoru did as told without a peep and opened it with his tongue out, your hands coming out from your panties as you reached up and slipped your fingers in his mouth, his lips closing in and sucking everything you had to give him as he salvaged up your arousal.

“fuck—” he released your fingers. “is this from your pussy baby?”

“mhm.” you moaned.

your arousal was even sweeter.

“my god—” he grabbed your wrist and licked a long stripe up your palm. “you dirty fucking thing m’gonna have to taste for myself and see.”

you gasped. “what?”

satoru sat up and pulled your wet panties down your legs, biting down on his tongue hard at the sight of your angelic bare cunt before him, slick and shiny and pretty as you unclasped your bra and spread your legs for him— eager and ready and not a single other thought in your brain besides the one that was screaming for satoru to stick his dick inside you.

“toruuuu!” you whined. “quit staring and fuck me.”

his cock pulsed.

“patience sweets, i wanna taste you first.”

you expected satoru to just lower himself down and shove his head in between your thighs, but you were dead fucking wrong as he stood, grabbed your waist and yanked you high up, sitting you on his shoulders as you squealed and gripped his hair.

“wait toru isn’t this uncomfortable i—”

he scoffed. “fuck no. i’ve been lifting you my whole life baby this is nothing.”

your speech lodged itself in your throat as you felt his tongue lap at your folds and clit, slobbering and filthy as he ate and scarfed you down just like his usual daily sweets, you by far his absolute favorite as he slurped your little pussy up and made you squeal and moan.

satoru walked over to the wall and leaned you up against it, taking your thighs off of his shoulders and placing his hands underneath as he propped you up and spread your legs wider, your jaw dropping at his slimy tongue flicking and him slabbering his mouth side to side rapidly until your legs shook and you saw stars.

“toru—”

he grunted, tongue prodding at your hole and you jumping.

“i think— i think i’m gonna cum and i—” pant “i don’t wanna—”

satoru separated his mouth from your pussy with a squelch and looked up, smiling big.

“too bad!”

“but—”

he spit on your cunt and you gasped.

“i said too bad.”

he dipped back in and fully devoured you as you mewled, messier as he slushed his tongue all over and you’d never experienced something like this, something that felt so fucking good as you started cumming all over his face in record speed regardless of how hard you were trying to hold back.

“yummy.”

he let go and you dropped down as he quickly caught you, turning and throwing you on his bed as he climbed over you— wrapping a hand around his cock and jerking as he kissed and swallowed your lips up again.

“you want me to make love to you or fuck you?” he slopped against your mouth before pulling back, yours and his eyes fluttering open to look at each other.

your legs were still shaking by the eat out he gave you seconds before, finding it hard to get your words together as his handsome deluded face stared at you.

“i— um—”

he placed his lips next to your ear.

“you want me to fuck you like my wife or fuck you like a little slut? or both?”

“both toru please—”

he grinned, coming back up as he parted your legs further open and lined his leaky tip with your hole.

“i can do both!”

satoru pushed himself in and you choked, hands clasping over your mouth as you felt him bully his big cock through and leave you a blabbering crying mess under him— his chest heaving at the warmth and softness and stickiness of your cute gummy walls, his years of imagining and theorizing how you’d feel wrapped around his dick all completely debunking themselves at the real feeling as you whimpered and clenched your hole.

“jesus christ—” he shivered, swallowing thickly as his trembling fingers settled on your waist, him slowly reeling his hips back before pumping in. “you’re— you’re warm.”

you dropped your hands and wiped your cheeks as you hiccuped, the feeling of his dick sliding in and out of your walls incandescently euphoric as you embarrassingly already felt yourself wanting to cum again when he had just stuck his dick inside of you— you wanting to ride out this moment for a bit longer and not finish so quickly like you had done on his mouth.

“am i being too mean pretty?” he huffed, thrusts now quick and curt as he gripped your bouncing tits and pinched your perking nipples, the sight of your little tears shamefully turning him on.

you frantically shook your head and tried to clear your brain. “n—no!—”

“good.” he smiled, a little crazed as he let go of your boobs, placed his hands on the backside of your thighs and pushed your knees up to your chest, picking up speed as you squealed and whimpered, utterly taken aback by how rough satoru was being considering the fact that he was such a goofy and kind and loving person on the daily.

oh… what years worth of pent up sexual frustration can do to a man.

satoru whined as you milked his dick, wheezing as he hammered his hips up and slapped against your skin, your body jolting and bouncing uncontrollably as his bed squeaked loud and obnoxiously.

thank god his mother wasn’t home.

“i’ve wanted this i’ve wanted this i’ve wanted this—” satoru babbled, his critical thinking out the fucking window as he just tumbled out totally random but honest confessions as your ears eagerly drank up every word and made your hole tighten.

“yeah?” pant “f—for how long baby?”

“for so long—” he whined loudly, fucking you faster as your mouth hung open and you gripped his wrists for support. “you’re everything i’ve ever w—wanted—”

“i— i’ve only ever wanted you toru— fuck! you’re big.“ you moaned, loving the way a huge deranged smile spread across his face as his hips pistoned into you and his hands pinned you down.

“cum on my dick baby please cum on my dick i want it i want it—”

your toes curled and you squealed, vision flashing white as you let out a high pitched scream at the intense buzzing feeling, your bodies hot and sticky and wet as satoru leaned over and shoved his lips in your ear.

“can i— can i cum inside?” he choked through gritted teeth as he came close to spilling his seed. “please i wanna cum inside—”

“but m’not on the pill—”

“please please baby i beg you—” hah! “i don’t wanna cum anywhere else—”

your eyes fluttered shut at his words and you quickly nodded, his hand cupping your face as he thrusted in one last time and pumped his cum entirely inside you without an ounce of hesitation for the consequences, his horny mind actually crazed and solidifying that there was no fucking way in hell he was gonna accept just friends from this point forward.

what a stupid thought.

“mmm…” you slowly moved your hips a little, feeling his cum all inside your ravished walls as you licked your lips. “your cum feels hot toru.”

not even warm, hot as it slushed and moved inside you with every movement you made, some of it dribbling and coating your outer folds as you bit your bottom lip into a smile and craned your head up to his neck, nibbling and giving satoru tiny kitten licks as he trembled and struggled to stay afloat and not give out his upper arm strength— trying to prevent himself from squishing you.

satoru pressed a soft tender kiss to your cheek then before sitting up and delicately sliding his dick out, running a soothing hand over your tummy as he did so and giving you a lazy smile.

he suddenly raised his pinky to you.

“birds of a feather?” he murmured, other hand running from your stomach over to your thighs now as he just lovingly felt you up, you smiling with rosy cheeks as you linked your little pinky with his.

“birds of a feather.”

you both kissed your thumbs and locked your promise, deciding then that you should probably shower once more before getting into bed to officially sleep— but deciding to shower together as you softly and steamily made out under the misty hot running water, body and mind relaxed as you just swallowed in the ambience of each other, you both not only holding on to your metaphorical tight rope with one hand now, but it actually on the verge of snapping as a whole and sending you both free falling.

and for the next couple of days, you and satoru were feral.

years and years of doing fucking nothing with pure restraint and fantasizing did a number on you both as any chance you got you were making out on your bed, his bed, and even in satoru’s car after your lectures— your hand teasingly going lower and lower until you’d shove a hand in his pants to pull his dick out and pump, your body leaning across the console and mouth going down to bob and suck as he moaned and pulled your hair into a makeshift ponytail to guide you and your pretty bows and fuck your mouth just to hear the sounds of you choking, eyes from time to time frantically looking around to see if no one was around as you blowed him.

and you did that basically all of the time for the next three days until the final practice just before the international skating union competition, satoru physically unable to leave you alone and unscathed as he constantly pinned you down to eat your pussy or suckle on your soft tits, his hand tightly clasped over your mouth in your room when your moans would get too loud as he fingered you, his long fingers squelching and abusing your cunt until you were finishing all over his hands again and again.

but you two having actual sex didn’t happen again apart from that night— satoru a man of his word since he promised you would only do it once… unfortunately. but that didn’t mean you couldn’t do other things, right?

except by the final practice, satoru was absolutely fucked off at the fact that neither of you had brought up the potentiality of being more than just friends, especially after doing all of those lewd acts.

he was so sick of it.

and so were you, quite frankly, but instead of being completely over it like satoru, you were afraid… afraid of what could happen and the possibility of losing him if you both indulged, if you let yourselves put your freaking careers on the line.

and satoru was the one person you couldn’t bear to lose. not ever.

“we look good sweets!” satoru cheesed, rotating around in the ice rinks dressing room mirrors as you had your costumes on for dress rehearsal and refinements, both of you glittering and shiny and looking like a professional ice skating pair as you examined yourself, readjusting your straps and hugging your torso.

“cold.” you shivered. “maybe i should’ve had it as a long sleeve… shit.”

he laughed and placed his hands on your arms, rubbing up and down quickly to create frictional heat as you smiled at him gratefully. “nah, it’s cute like this! you’ll warm up once we run it a few times on the ice.”

you nodded, the both of you walking out of the dressing room and to the rink, skillfully putting on your skates before pushing yourself on the ice and gliding across.

“can you show me the uh—” satoru looked to the side in thought once he was on the ice in front of you. “the part where we skate in unison and have our arms up in an L? it’s in the chorus of our music—”

“oh!” you nodded and skated a bit away from him to demonstrate.

“i just wanna see if my form matches yours and we look clean.” he smiled. “and then show me the triple axel after that.”

you gave him a cute thumbs up and pushed yourself off, gliding gracefully and smoothly across the ice as satoru was supposed to be watching you to try and fix his form, but finding himself transfixed once again by the way you seamlessly skated with no sense of struggling effort— arms poised and flowy as your dress moved and fluttered with every twist and turn until you gradually propelled yourself up into the triple axel and landed correctly without a slip or wobble.

the level of difficulty and technicality you skated reminded him of akira— but your style, your movement, and the way you carried yourself was entirely your own.

you made figure skating look beautiful.

you were beautiful.

you slowed down on the ice and skated over to satoru.

“were you able to see? did you match me?—”

“you skate just like her.” satoru spoke softly, and you faltered.

he didn’t need to clarify who he was talking about, as you always knew.

“you’re just saying that.” you pursed your lips to keep yourself from smiling, or crying, you didn’t know.

but a compliment like that meant the absolute world to you.

“i’m not.” he shrugged, skating over to you and taking your hands as he glided with you to starting position. “you always have baby. and i know that’s what you’ve always wanted. i’m sorry i don’t say it enough.”

your eyes softened. “toru that’s not something to be sorry about at all…”

satoru was so kind.

you both skated together and ran the choreography a couple of times, spinning simultaneously and satoru lifting you again and again throughout the routine and still performing your lasso spinning lift successfully, arms around his shoulders and faces close as the wind whipped through both of your costumes and hair from traveling across the ice at such a speed before coming to a sudden choreographed halt at the end of your number.

you had slid down satoru’s body to plant your blades back on the ice when he had enough.

“please stick your tongue in my mouth.”

you choked on your spit and slapped a hand over your mouth.

“toru no! absolutely not we can’t anymore okay—”

“what are we.”

you froze.

“huh?”

“what are we.” he repeated, eyes dead locked on yours and hard. “are we together? are we not? are we friends? what are we—”

“we’re— we’re friends toru—”

“oh fuck no.” he let you go and created a little bit of space between you. “don’t give me that shit we’re not friends.”

“w—well we can’t—”

“i’m your man.” he stated firmly. “i’m your man i’ve been your man for years and i’m tired of avoiding this sweets! it sucks!”

“we’re putting everything at risk if we do toru we can’t!”

“i’m your man.”

“no you’re not—”

he cut you off. “your mouth has been on my dick. we’ve had sex. we’ve kissed we’ve made out we’ve told each other i love you if that doesn’t tell you that we’re together then what the actual fuck?!”

“oh my god toru i know i know!” you groaned, hugging yourself as you anxiously looked at him. “what happens if we break up? huh? what do we do?”

he shook his head. “we won’t.”

“you don’t know that.” you laughed bitterly. “if that happens we lose each other satoru understand that. we break birds of a feather, we ruin our careers, and we ruin us.”

“first of all—” he started. “our birds of a feather promise is to stick together, keep each other safe, and not seperate or fight, is it not?”

“it— it is—”

“so do you really think if we continue to keep each other in this fuck ass limbo of friends that we aren’t already breaking that?” he threw his arms out in emphasis. “we have never been just friends. i’ve known you for fourteen fucking years and we have never been just that.”

you blinked back tears.

“i promise you baby—” he slid closer to you and cupped your cheeks. “that we won’t leave each other. i will fight and try every single damn day to make sure that that shit never happens even though i already know it won’t because you’ve been made for me since birth and we haven’t separated since we’ve met.”

satoru wiped your cheeks. “but i also promise you, that if we continue as just friends, we will break. we’re gonna string each other along so fucking much that we’re gonna go absolutely insane and drive each other away. that is for certain.”

“but— skating—”

“i don’t give an ever living fuck.” he spat funnily and you laughed through your tears. “skating is nothing without you. all the trophies and medallions and the god damn olympics itself with that gold medal is nothing without you. i would give that shit up in a heartbeat if it meant keeping you in my life in exchange.”

“and i would do the same for you toru!” you sobbed, his arms immediately wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you in as you sniffled and hiccuped into his chest, him kissing the side of your head repeatedly and soothing a hand down your back.

“don’t cry pretty i didn’t meant to make you cry...” he mumbled, cheek mushed up against your head as your shoulders shook, a huge disgusting pit of guilt in his stomach. “fine it’s okay we can be just friends for a bit longer please don’t cry—”

“no!” you sputtered, pushing him back a little to face him. “i don’t wanna be just friends anymore either toru… it hurts me so much.”

“it does?” he asked softly and you nodded.

“it hurts me too.”

satoru wiped your remaining tears again and fixed the little bows in your hair, a soft liberated smile on his face as he reached down to cup your cheeks and bring your perfect lips to his, kissing you lovingly as the both of you felt like you could finally rest and stop ridiculously hiding your love in the shadows after so many years.

the thin tight rope that you had both been toppling over and rebalancing and holding onto to keep the other from falling, had finally snapped in two, and you and satoru were now in the darkest depths of the truth of what you both were.

except it wasn’t dark at all.

it was light and airy and heavenly, and you wondered why you had been so afraid when there was nothing to be afraid of in the first place, since the one you were falling with was satoru.

silly.

he pulled apart and looked at you, his striking blue eyes and white fluffy hair especially beautiful.

“tomorrow—” he began. “we’re gonna absolutely destroy everyone else there and land a spot in the top three, and then after i’m gonna take you out on a nice dinner and buy every single fucking dessert off the menu, and then i’m gonna ask you to be my girlfriend. okay baby?”

you giggled then, the brightest rosy cheeks on display from the both of you as you eagerly nodded and threw your arms around his neck.

and tomorrow could not come soon enough, because not only were you looking forward to making your dreams a reality and competing against other figure skating pairs from around the world and the olympics itself, but also the thought of officially being satoru’s after years of wishing on little stars and day dreaming about what that would be like for hours on end.

until the moment was here. happening.

the indoor arena was electric and rowdy the minute the competition commenced, you and satoru in absolute awe of the energetic atmosphere as many individuals in the crowd waved their banners or screamed their loved ones names, an ambience very similar to the olympics as you both watched pair after pair perform their hardwork and dedication on the ice, goosebumps on your skin as you fidgeted and jittered.

out of twenty of your countries competing pairs, only three of you would be chosen for the olympics.

and you hoped to god you and satoru would be chosen.

“we’re almost up baby.” satoru patted your head, sitting on a bench in your designated area. “i think it’s two more pairs then it’s us.”

you nodded, nerves closing up your throat as your eyes darted over the rink.

satoru frowned.

“hey.” he placed a hand on your thigh, suddenly wanting to rip your nylon tights off so you could actually feel his skin on yours. “you nervous sweets?”

you nodded again, and he gave you a silly grin.

“don’t be! you’re literally akira the second. we’ll be fine!”

you laughed lightly and leaned your head on his shoulder.

“and even if we don’t land a spot, that’s fine too.” he kissed your head. “it’s our first year anyways… we’ll know the game for next time and we’ll try harder.”

you picked your head up and smiled at him, his words settling your nerves just as soon as the last remaining pair took their places on stage, yours and satoru’s turn right after.

what you didn’t know, was that satoru was just as nervous as you.

but he knew you needed a rock and someone to comfort you— wanting to swoop in like a little hero and save you again… so he kept it hidden.

“fuck i almost forgot!” satoru jumped up and dug into his duffel bag, pulling out a roll of pale baby blue ribbon that matched your dress exactly. “you told me you didn’t have ribbon that matched your costume so i went and tried to look.”

he held it out for you cutely on his palm.

“does this one match?”

you picked up the roll, astonished and mushy inside that satoru actually went out of his way to find this specific ribbon color for you because you had expressed how unhappy you were with the darker shade you had, your eyes looking up at him in complete adoration.

“oh my goodness— thank you toru!”

you quickly undid the bows in your hair and slipped off the former ribbon, digging through your duffel bag for scissors and cutting off pieces from the new ribbon before looping them through your hair and tying, not needing a mirror since you’ve done it for as long as you could remember.

satoru’s cheeks went pink as he looked at your new pretty bows.

“does they look okay?”

“beautiful.” he responded, pecking your lips before taking your hand and leading you to the entrance of the rink.

“okay—” you breathed out. “this is it.”

“what kind of food do you think they’ll have at the dinner place we picked—”

“toru!” you giggled. “not now!”

he smiled sheepishly at you before leaning his forehead against yours.

you stuck your pinky out.

“birds of a feather?”

satoru grinned and looped his pinky with yours.

“birds of a feather baby.”

you both kissed your thumbs and once again, locked your promise.

the announcer over the speakers iterated your names and your country as you and satoru glided across the ice poised and graceful with your arms up, waving at the crowd and giving your mothers a special frantic wave before moving to starting position, unknowing of the way several other pairs and the judges themselves murmured about your reputation and your association with akira.

and you hoped she was watching over you both now. somewhere.

the music begun, contemporary and lyrical as you and satoru slid across the rink, already impressive and entertaining as you performed moves and lifts right off the bat, the sounds of your blades scraping against the ice oddly keeping you in time with your choreography as the number went on.

and you and satoru were feeding off of each other, the chemistry undeniable to a strangers eye that had no idea of your story as you conveyed passion through your expressions, each technical movement bleeding with the fact that you both had been olympic level trained since the age of fourteen and fifteen.

you were halfway through your routine now, the lasso lift coming up next as satoru harbored in his strength so he could properly propel you into that newly added spin.

you skated around him and he lifted you up into the air, the crowd cheering and excited at your beautiful remarkable forms.

except satoru’s hands were slippery.

why?

nerves. he quickly deemed it nerves as he had no time to deliberate since it was almost time to propel you up into the spin, his mind already racing over the fact that the slip in his hands was hindering his strength to keep you up there, and he worried that if he pushed you up, it wouldn’t be enough and you’d come tumbling down— hurting yourself.

but satoru had zero time to decide again as he went with protocol and pushed you up as hard as he possibly could and prayed you would go into your triple axel spin successfully and that he’d catch you.

but the minute that he did, the force yanked him back and his skates flew up in front of him, you falling down and your thigh hitting something sharp before you both went slamming to the ground— sliding apart from each other on the ice.

the crowd screamed and gasped in terror, sounds you were all too familiar with to what you heard three years ago filling both your fuzzy minds as satoru struggled to get back up, his head turning slowly around to see if you were okay and just sore like him—

until he saw your limp body on your side, your back to him with blood slowly pooling out on the ice and staining your pretty blue dress.

satoru scrambled up and skated straightaway in a panic to you before sliding on his knees as he reached you, turning you over and paling as he saw you were unresponsive and out fucking cold.

“baby?“ he shook you. “hey— baby—”

nothing.

why weren’t you answering him? why weren’t you awake?

his brain flashed images of akira’s body the day that she died, suffocating deja vu as the way you looked when he saw you like that on your side was a carbon copy of her from three years ago, his chest picking up speed as you continued to lay limp even after he shook you desperately numerous times like a madman.

and why was there so much blood?

blood that looked sickly bright red against the white ice, blood that stained his sleeves and shirt and hands as he held you up and supported your head, and blood that wouldn’t stop fucking oozing out of your leg as he trembled.

“hey— hey can you hear me?” satoru tapped your cheek rapidly, shaking you gently again with horrified eyes and still not getting a response.

“fuck! why is this happening this isn’t supposed to happen—”

how could he be your hero? how could he stop the blood and wake you up? how could he— how could he fix this how could he take it all back how could he fix this—

“no no no baby please—” he sobbed. “not like aki baby not like her man—”

he shook you again, your head lolling to the side as if— as if you were—

no.

“baby— birds of a feather right? birds of a feather we have to stick together you can’t— you can’t leave right?” he cried, chest heaving and vision blurry and you just felt so cold.

“you’re not leaving you’re not leaving me please not like aki please god—” he cradled you up to his chest in his arms and rocked. “you can’t leave me you’re all i know and i don’t wanna know anything else please baby—”

satoru’s frantic repeated heartbroken wailing echoed throughout the arena as the crowd erupted and moved around in hysteria, him still rocking you in his arms as he turned his head with terrified bloodshot eyes to look at both of your mothers, yours hunched over in a fit of screams and cries as his had her hands in her hair in utter disbelief and tears.

“fuck what do i do!” he sobbed, legs shakily standing as he slipped one arm under your back and the other under your knees, picking your limp body up as he saw a huge group of paramedics run over to him on the ice as he carried you over.

“help—” hic! “h—help me please—”

why couldn’t satoru be your hero when it mattered most?

several of them lowered the stretcher and took you from him, laying your lifeless self on it before hoisting you up and swiftly carrying you away, all of it horrifyingly and painfully similar to akira’s inevitable death.

were you gone?

satoru looked down and saw your baby blue ribbons on the ice, wet and stained with blood, once perfect bows in your pretty hair when he had you awake and breathing.

were you breathing? had you hit your head?

he couldn’t remember.

he couldn’t remember anything but your unresponsiveness, the way your skin was colder than the ice itself as he picked up your ribbons and looked at them in his hands— and the way your blood stretched over for what looked like miles and was still there.

in front of him. taunting him.

was the world so cruel as to take you too?

it wouldn’t. it couldn’t.

you’d never done anything wrong. you’d never treated anybody indifferently as you were sweet and beautiful and talented, always in servitude of others— in servitude of him as you taught him how to ice skate when you didn’t need to at six years old, you already kind and gentle at that young age when you could’ve easily shooed him away like a little bug and told him to fuck off.

and throughout your life too, as he was well aware he was an annoying dramatic piece of shit that whined and cried and ate your stashes of sweets all of the time— but you always just giggling and looking at him with adoration in your eyes, with your cheeky smile, with the little ribbon bows in your hair he loved so fucking much.

oh how he wished he didn’t always take your sweets at that moment. how he wished he wasn’t always an annoying blockhead and made you mad at times with his persistent personality and neediness as he stood there frozen in the rink staring at your blood— dark now and dull, wishing it was him instead of you.

you were knocked out for five days at the hospital.

you and satoru also didn’t make it into the top three at the international skating union competition.

you should’ve, as your score was already higher than any other pair there and only halfway through the routine too— but that’s precisely why you got knocked out.

if you had finished your number, you would’ve landed in the top three, but it ending halfway cut off the opportunity for accumulating more points, and eventually another pair surpassed your halfway score by two points.

but satoru didn’t give a shit. fuck the olympics and fuck the international skating union while your body laid still on the hospital bed for hours on end, him refusing to leave your side as he sat there and stared off into space with nothing in his head but hatred for himself as it was his fault that this happened and his blade that sliced you— eyes red and sunken and tired and refusing to eat or drink.

you had hit your head on the ice, but thankfully the trauma wasn’t anywhere near the severity of akira’s, it only inducing a strong concussion and sending you flying out of consciousness upon impact.

but it was the loss of blood that was the problem.

you had lost so much, too much of it.

it made you weak and frail and unable to do much and satoru worried that that’s what was going to take away your fighting chance of survival.

“you should go home satoru…” your mother sighed, standing by the door of your hospital room, her own eyes red and swollen.

he shook his head no silently.

“she’ll still be here… you need to eat something or sleep please. you look awful.”

satoru smiled weakly and shook his head again.

“m’fine.”

your mother pursed her lips to the side and she sighed again, nodding.

“i’ll come by early in the morning, alright?”

he hummed, giving her a tiny wave as she left and closed the door behind her.

satoru had brought a roll of pink ribbon from your little white box in your room, unrolling the pieces he chose and lifting his hands, taking the ends of your hair and trying to tie little thin bows the way you always did, but huffing softly in irritation when they just looked like shit.

he undid the one he was working on and settled for feeling the material of the ribbon between his thumbs instead.

satoru brought you bouquets everyday too.

sometimes three at a time as he continuously swapped out old flowers and replaced them with new ones, changed their water and poured fresh quantities into each vase to keep them alive, and often picked some more from the hospital garden when he went down to get some fresh air for a minute— the least he could do for nearly killing you.

and satoru had a lot of time to think while he waited for you to wake up— bitter and resentful at the world for letting him sit there healthy while you were out, so much so that he started thinking stupid shit like how he wished you would’ve forgotten him and dismissed his yapping dreams about ice skating when you met so you would’ve been an independent skater instead, so you then wouldn’t have gotten hurt by his idiocy and you wouldn’t be laying in a hospital bed like you were now.

or swapped places. him instead of you so he could beat up the fucks that took akira away and beat up zeus or— or aphrodite or whoever the fuck that was responsible for keeping him from you so he could come back to you… unsure if you were doing the same thing as he stared at your resting face.

you should’ve just left him behind.

but he was sleeping when you woke.

arms propped up and crossed next to you on the hospital bed, his cheek mushed up on them and face to the side as you blinked your eyes open and was straight up confused, not a single memory of the incident flitting through your mind… until it did.

and it hit you bad.

your mind reeled with a pounding headache, tears prickling your eyes at the events that plagued through your mind— a part of you knowing there was absolutely no way you and satoru made top three and gutted about it, feeling shaken from the memory alone of you falling and hitting the ice.. but grateful.

grateful to be alive, for you knew akira wasn’t as lucky.

was it because of her that you had lived? had she pulled some strings to change your fate?

your eyes trailed down to a sleeping peaceful satoru, your gaze softening at how tired and broken he looked, bags dark and purple as he snored away next to you, your hand lifting and delicately settling over his fluffy white hair as you smiled that he was here next to you— caressing.

satoru shot up wide awake then as you jumped and retracted your hand, the both of you alarmed and frantic.

“baby?” he grabbed your hand and felt around it, feeling warmth for once as he stood up straight and shoved back one of the sleeves of his hoodie.

“you’re awake? are you actually?—” he pinched his arm hard over and over and you giggled.

you giggled— the sound filling his ears and lifting an undeniable dark ton off of his shoulders as he relaxed, tears automatically brimming his eyes.

“i thought i fucking killed you sweets.” his voice shook, arms gently coming around you and pulling you into an embrace.

“killed me?” you frowned. “toru what are you talking about—”

“oh god you have amnesia—”

“no!” you laughed. “what do you mean by almost killed me? you didn’t do anything.”

“i did everything.” he spoke flatly. “i fucked up that lasso lift. i pushed you up too hard and we fell. i cut you with my blade i made you bleed—”

“toru that was an accident.” you pulled back and your chest hurt over the devastated look on his face, wiping his tears and kissing his nose. “remember— aki’s partner felt just like this and we had to tell him too it was an accident. you can’t control something like that. at all. it’s just unfortunate circumstance.”

“i know but i still feel like—” he wiped his eyes and swallowed. “i still feel like i could’ve done something different. it should’ve been me and not you and i should’ve—”

“toru don’t even don’t think about things like that.” you shook your head. “there wasn’t anything you could’ve done, baby. and that’s okay.”

you gently scooched over on the bed and patted the spot next to yours, satoru immediately climbing and settling in, clinging on to you as he placed his head on your chest with his arm firm but careful around your waist, suddenly feeling how exhausted he actually was from the days he spent restless.

you couldn’t have imagined the pain satoru must’ve gone through waiting for you to wake up. you didn’t know how he even fucking managed as you would’ve been torn into bits and pieces not knowing if he was going to live or not, looking at his limp bloody body the way he had to look at yours and it reminding you of the event that brought you both the most trauma and grief.

you couldn’t believe you almost went out the same way.

satoru confirmed your thoughts later and filled you in on the results of the international skating union competition, rubbing salt into the wound a little more upon learning that you landed fourth, nearly there as you couldn’t help but cry a bit in your hospital bed when he told you that you could’ve had a spot, satoru hugging you and reassuring you that you’d both have your shot at it in the next four years.

your family was relieved that you were awake, tons of people piling in and giving you sweets and food that satoru hungrily eyed and gawked over, you laughing and passing him the ones he particularly enjoyed most as you conversed with your relatives.

and recovery was thankfully easy— doctors orders being just you taking it light and being careful not to bonk your head against anything, as well as taking care of the laceration on your leg— changing the bandage frequently every morning and night, satoru insisting he help you with that and with many other things that you needed as he tried to make up for what he still thought was his fault.

two weeks had gone by of just rest and peace and no figure skating, thinking you and satoru deserved this break, but also secretly petrified of stepping on the ice again after what had happened— neither of you wanting to hurt the other as you avoided the topic of training for the meantime at all costs.

“maybe we should work at a water park.” you suggested one day, the two of you seated on a park bench through the chilly mid january air as you shared a plate of chocolate drizzled strawberries you got from some nice lady and her fruit stand. “be lifeguards!”

“oh hell no!” he spoke with his mouthful before swallowing, readjusting the black round sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. “you think i’m gonna be fine with watching random old men savoring after my wife in her little red bikini while i’m off saving some drowning kid? oh no thank you. let the kid drown.”

“toru!” you laughed, smacking his shoulder. “okay then what else?”

“janitors.”

you shrugged. “i like to clean. sometimes.”

“and your entire body is covered in those jumpsuits no stinky old men looking at—”

satoru’s phone buzzed against his jeans and he paused and pulled it out as you giggled, him barely glancing at the caller i.d before answering.

“hello?”

you mindlessly carried on plopping strawberries in your mouth and chewing.

“this is he…. oh hello! yes! how are you?”

you eyed satoru quizzically at his sudden formal change in tone, his eyes glued to the cement below.

“uh huh… really? o—okay! no yes for sure! thank you so much for the opportunity!”

opportunity?

you slowed your chewing and nudged his shoulder gently, wanting him to give you some kind of sign as to who it was on the other line.

“okay, we’ll keep in touch! thank you again!”

satoru slowly removed his phone away from his ear as the other line went dead, staring at his screen and you curiously leaning over only to see his call history log, a random number at the top.

“holy fuck.”

“what?!” you leaned in closer and tried to catch his eyes with yours, his shocked wide gaze slowly flittering to your face.

“that was the national olympic committee.”

you froze.

“shut the fuck up.” you covered your mouth. “toru what did they say what did they say—”

“one of the pairs that made it in the top three got disqualified.” he spat out quickly, shooting up and digging his fingers into his hair as he walked back and forth slowly in disbelief, spinning to face you. “i— i don’t know why i didn’t ask but we got bumped up.”

silence.

“we—” your chest rose and fell erratically, eyes darting around as satoru knelt down and grabbed your hands.

“baby we made it.” he tightened his grip. “we’re competing in the olympics—”

you squealed and jumped up and down and pulled satoru in, the both of you comically bouncing off the walls as you wailed and cried and blabbered on about how you couldn’t believe it and how a chance like this was even given to you, satoru lifting you and spinning you around but stopping and freaking out and apologizing profusely over your injured leg, you shaking your head and laughing, kissing him in return.

“we can’t avoid skating toru.” you spoke once you and him had settled down. “it’s literally what brought us together… and what brought us to aki. and even from you spinning me around like that it reminded me how much i missed skating with you.”

“i feel the same sweets.” he smiled, big and bright and handsome as he leaned over and kissed your rosy cheek. “i miss lifting you up and catching a glimpse of your ass underneath your—”

“toru!”

even though you and satoru were finally on board and accepting of bringing skating back into your lives, it wasn’t to say at all that the fear itself went away when you tried to do lifts or spins in the air with each other— apprehensive and scared as you practiced on the mats way more than necessary before moving choreography to the ice, satoru multiple times chickening out and needing a moment as he was petrified of hurting you again, and you glued in place at the thought of falling and slamming on the ground when you had just survived mostly unscathed.

but this wasn’t the time to be afraid over that anymore, and if akira were here, you both knew she’d smack you upside the heads and tell you to move… to get on the ice and do the sport you both loved and cherished most.

to finalize your dream and make it a reality.

and throughout the month that you and satoru spent before the commencement of the olympics, you trained like never before— no excuses as you worked tirelessly day and night with sweat literally dripping from your faces until every single goal was met and beyond, until every single throw from satoru was perfected and until every axel from you was delivered.

sometime during this month too, satoru finally got to take you out on that romantic candle lit dinner like he promised and asked you to be his girlfriend, him giddy and grinning the whole time and literally spoiling the moment as he meant to give you a chocolate dessert plate that said ‘will you be mine’ in chocolate syrupy letters, but accidentally eating it and smearing the words when he confused your plate with his, smacking his forehead repeatedly on the dining table as the silverware clattered— muttering about how dark it was and how he couldn’t fucking see, but you laughing so fucking much and clutching your stomach that your makeup smudged up at the corner of your eyes.

satoru was reminded again how much he loved you that day, because anyone else would’ve gotten tremendously annoyed and called him an idiot, but you…

you just giggled. giggled and hiccuped like always while he stared at you softly.

the love you and satoru shared stretched far beyond the concepts of what a platonic and romantic relationship was.

the love you and satoru shared was sacrifice. genuine sacrifice and yearn and absolute unadulterated love as you both without another thought would drop your careers for each other, would swap places if it meant the other would be safe from harm’s way, and would endure years of swallowing and pushing back feelings if it meant just keeping one another in your lives forever.

because that’s what birds of a feather was for to begin with.

a promise to stick together. a promise to keep each other safe.

a concept so pure and devoted that it translated onto the ice like no other pair when it came time for the olympics.

“you ready sweets?” satoru breathed out as you both stood in front of each other by the outside of the rink with interlaced fingers, shaking each other’s jitters out. “no matter what happens, we’ve already come so far and done so much, okay? we’ve done what we needed to do.”

“mhm!” you quickly nodded, satoru leaning down before you both rested your foreheads against each other’s with massive smiles on your faces, thunderous cheers echoing throughout the giant arena totally drowned out in your ears as you stared into satoru’s sparkling blue eyes.

“make aki proud.” you repeated softly, and he nodded, you hoping once again she was watching over you both.

you both stuck your pinkies out at the same time and looped them together.

“birds of a feather?” satoru beamed.

“birds of a feather.”

and you kissed your thumbs before sealing your promise.

you both watched the pair that you were going right after perform their routine, beautiful and difficult as you gnawed at your bottom lip in distress.

“toru…”

“yeah baby?”

“some of these pairs are crazy good…” you spoke over the music. “i’d honestly be happy with getting in the top twenty i don’t know if we can—”

satoru scoffed and shook his head, a sly smile as he looked over the rink with his arms crossed.

“nah, we’d win.”

and just like akira had done in her final olympic year— in her final moments, you and satoru made it known that it was your debut, that you had been hungry and desperate for this moment since the ages of six and seven, that you’d been raised and trained by a four-time olympic gold medalist for a decade as you executed the most technical and intricate moves and turns, you and satoru moving as one on the ice and identical as he took your hands and glided on the ice with you, raw emotion in your expressions that read love so clearly that it was impossible to miss.

with each lift, with each time satoru took you in his arms and spun, and with each time he simply held you close and tenderly to his chest as his blades scrapped across the ice with your pretty bows in his view— were all reminders for the two of you that partner figure skating was nothing without satoru and nothing without you.

the privilege of having another way to convey just how much you loved each other through the language of artistic expression and skates and ice, through the feel of each other’s skin, was one you nurtured and looked after and loved as the wind whipped through you and satoru due to the speed of your skates, performing quadruple axels like nothing while dropping the jaws of other figure skating pairs.

and because of this fact alone, how you both truly appreciated each other’s entities and had the indescribable power to correlate that into competitive sport—

was the reason why you and satoru won gold that day.

you and him, on your knees, gripping and hugging one another so hard and crying tears of joy as you both had come so far and gone through so much to get to where you were now, your dream now a complete and total reality as you stepped up onto that podium during the medal award ceremony just like akira had done— representing your country excellently with a big fat gold medal hung over your necks and a big fat kiss from satoru as he lip locked with you up there, flashings of cameras and bouquets and teddy bears scattered all throughout the ice in dismay.

“i love you!” satoru yelled to you over the roaring as you waved at the crowd, your mothers crying and blowing their noses and taking pictures from the edge of the rink as you and satoru cackled and pointed at them.

“i love you, toru!”

“no like seriously!” he put his waving hand down. “i wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. thank you for recognizing that i have love and dreams too baby and for not forgetting about me even when i’ve been the most annoying dipshit of your life.”

“you’ve never been that to me my god toru! where is this coming from?” he hopped off the podium once you two were given the all clear and he held a helping hand out for you to take, you doing so and carefully stepping down.

“reeaally?” he cheesed, cheeky and silly as his big pearly white smile made your cheeks flush. “so you love me then?”

“i literally would not be with you if i didn’t—”

“hooray!” he cheered, throwing his arms up as flower petals flew from his bouquets and around. “my girlfriend loves me! and we’re gonna have rough passionate olympian sex in our hotel room—”

“toru!—”

the love you and satoru shared wasn’t something silly like ‘i like you, you like me.’

it was call me when you get home.

have you eaten yet?

here, let me help you.

whatever you need.

yours and satoru’s souls were exactly the same— blended, intertwined, and stubbornly knotted together as no amount of tug and pull could unravel you both apart, satoru finding over the years that loving you was like muscle memory from the moment he met you, his nerves and reflexes gravitating him towards you on the ice that first time even when he knew there was a huge chance of him slipping and falling, but not being afraid of it at all as long as he just got to you, convinced he knew you in another life as you just felt so familiar the moment he saw your pretty little face.

and you’re so glad that he did get to you… that he stayed with you.

fourteen years of ice cream trips and sleepovers and horror movies from the moment you were teeny tiny babies to adults, experiencing the hardships of your teenage years of loss and grief, to then adulthood and college as you had the privilege of learning to navigate it with another being that was just like you, two little birds with no sense of direction other than to each other.

and it was all thanks to one woman and one woman alone.

“i honestly believe that if she was there, she would’ve brought one of those confetti poppers with dye in it and set it off.” you commented, you and satoru sitting on the grass at her grave site as you leaned your head on his shoulder and his head on top of yours, having literally just come off the plane from being at the olympics— your countries olympic button up thick jackets adorning your figures as your gold medals gleamed radiantly against the sun.

“i wish she was there.” satoru hummed, and you nodded softly in agreement.

“me too… but i’m sure she was! as a little birdie.”

he chuckled, finding your hand and interlacing your fingers as you stared at her tombstone like you’d done so many times before already… except this time it was bittersweet, you having accomplished what the three of you had strived so hard for at last.

“i miss her.” you murmured. “i miss her cussing.”

your eyes flickered down to her peace offerings, the little snow angel trinket you had gotten her still pretty and glossy and her as it sat happily on her stone platform.

satoru picked his head up and kissed the top of your head, propping his chin up on it.

“i miss her too baby.” he responded softly. “everyday.”

“but— i can’t thank her enough for giving us the bullets to fire with for skating.. y’know..” you ran the pad of your index finger along her tombstone, rough and scratchy as you traced little hearts along the edges.

“and she brought us closer together, did she not?” satoru pointed out.

she did.

a woman who was clumsy and loud and erratic with the biggest potty mouth you had ever heard that was passed down to you and satoru in the blink of an eye… but man did she know what love was as she taught it to you and reminded you both of exactly what it was each and every day.

you and satoru had accepted the fact that your hearts would never be whole again, for akira had taken half of them elsewhere and into the depths of the unknown.

but you were okay with that. completely and utterly okay with that.

for love had no limits.

you wanted her to keep it, as you and satoru stitched the remaining halves of your hearts together to create a new whole, as there was no one else you both would rather have that part of you with them forever besides akira.

and yours and satoru’s stitched up hearts grew increasingly bigger and fonder even after a couple of years later, even after winning three more olympic gold medals, you and him back at the same place in front of akira’s grave like always, sitting and laughing and chatting— but with two little baby toddlers that were half of you and half of satoru as they blubbered on about ‘mama aki’ and her trophies, a delicate twinkling ring on your finger and a golden band around satoru’s as your little family had a picnic over her final resting place.

“papa!” your son exclaimed, satoru immediately turning his attention to him in the midst of scarfing down a turkey sandwich.

“yes my offspring?”

you playfully glared at your husband.

“why do your eyes look scarier in the day?”

“HAH!” you slapped a hand over your mouth to hush your cackling, satoru’s face absolutely taken aback and offended.

“they do!” your daughter giggled. “they do! they do!—”

“baby do something!” satoru whined, shoulders slumping as he threw his head back. “i’m being bullied by five year old’s!”

you giggled and kissed his cheek, his pout quickly turning into a soft little grin as his face flushed pink.

“but your papa’s eyes are pretty you guys! and they match yours!”

“mmm— nope! scary!”

your two twin toddlers giggled uncontrollably as they thought being mean to their dad was the funniest thing in the world, you laughing with them as satoru flopped back dramatically and completely laid down on the grass with his eyes looking straight up at the bright sky.

“s’okay.” he spoke flatly. “if even my pretty little wife thinks my suffering is funny i’ll just burn my eyes to a crisp—”

“toru!” you slapped his knee. “too graphic in front of the kiddies.”

“but my suffering!—”

“mommy mommy!” your daughter tugged at your sleeve and pointed to the top of akira’s tombstone, a cute perfect white and brown bird perched up on the edge and peering curiously at the four of you, the creature not alarmed whatsoever of your children’s sudden movements as they scrambled to get closer to it.

satoru propped himself up with an elbow and stared before you both locked eyes, knowing growing smiles on your faces as he fully sat up— leaning and planting a gentle kiss to your forehead, letting it linger.

aki.

and it was like you and satoru were reminded again of your promise that you still told each other every day.

a promise that consisted of your years together… of your love, of your undying fervor of sticking together, of your need of keeping each other safe…

of birds of a feather.

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

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xhyjin · 3 months ago

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husband gojo! who turns into “the neediest” after a long day of being “the strongest” the moment he walks through the door. his blindfold or glasses are tossed aside because, to him, you’re no sight for sore eyes; he wants nothing obstructing his view of you. he’s immediately all over you, clinging to you like a lifeline. and when you groan, “toru, i need my personal space,” he only grins and murmurs, “i need your personal space too, baby,” before wrapping his long legs around you, nearly making you stumble and fall with him still stubbornly attached, laughing like it’s the best part of his day. (it is)

husband gojo! who, ever since you baked him a birthday cake once, fell head over heels for your baking. now, it’s a tradition; he refuses to have a birthday cake unless it’s made and decorated by you. this extends to his sweet tooth cravings too; whenever he comes across random dessert recipes on his phone, he immediately sends them your way with an innocent “doesn’t this look good?” even if you’ve never seen or heard of the dessert before. he’ll hover around the kitchen, sneaking peeks and stealing tastes, grinning like a kid because there’s nothing sweeter to him than something made by your hands.

husband gojo! who absolutely loves when you spend his money. it takes you a while to get comfortable using it because you feel bad, but he always reassures you with a grin, “my money is your money, sweetheart. it’s all gonna be spent on you anyway.” he gets genuinely excited when you come home from a shopping trip or when packages arrive at the door, practically glowing with pride. seeing you spoiled and happy makes him feel like he’s doing something right. his favorite part, though, is when you give him a haul, showing off everything you bought and trying on all your new clothes just for him. he’ll sit back, arms crossed with the biggest smirk on his face, and say, “damn, I knew my money looked good on you.”

husband gojo! who is so, so, so protective of you that sometimes he just wants to keep you home, away from the outside world, where nothing can touch you. he’s spent his whole life as nothing but a weapon for jujutsu society, and all he wants now is to keep you safe, to shield you from everything. when you’re out together, his arm is always wrapped securely around your waist or draped over your shoulder, a silent reminder to everyone that you’re his to protect. dates are rarely in public—he prefers private, intimate places or the comfort of home, where he knows you’re safe in his arms. he’ll even insist on teaching you self-defense, but the lesson always ends the same: him pinning you down, a smirk on his face as he attacks you with kisses, murmuring, “looks like you’re still defenseless against me.”

husband gojo! who quite literally steals your entire personality. the moment you say a new phrase or pick up a habit, he’s quick to latch onto it, memorizing it like it’s second nature. by the next day, he’s already using it effortlessly, as if it’s always been part of his vocabulary. when you catch him doing it, he just shrugs with a small grin, “what can I say? you’re my favorite person—I can’t help it.” he admires you so much that your quirks and habits naturally become his own.

husband gojo! who sometimes tries to scare you in the mornings by hovering over you, his face so close that the first thing you see when you open your eyes are his deep blue eyes staring wide into yours. it always makes you jolt awake, your hands flailing as you instinctively poke or smack him in surprise. he’ll laugh, completely unfazed, pulling back just enough to grin down at you with a playful, “good morning, sleepyhead. miss me?” even when you scold him for nearly giving you a heart attack, he just chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead like it’s the most natural way to start his day.

husband gojo! who, just like he steals your personality, also steals your scent and fashion. if you have a favorite perfume, he’s either hunting down the “manly” version of it or shamelessly spritzing yours when you’re not looking. and when it comes to clothes, he’ll buy the exact same pieces you own—just a few sizes bigger so they suit him. it’s not even subtle; he’ll walk out wearing a sweater that’s just like yours, grinning proudly when you notice. “what? we match. it’s cute,” he says, completely unapologetic, because to him, there’s nothing better than being a reflection of the person he loves most.

husband gojo! who’ll dye a small streak of his snow-white hair your favorite color just to surprise you. he keeps it subtle and tucked away, hidden so well that no one else would even notice unless they were running their fingers through his hair—and no one gets that close but you. sometimes he changes it when your favorite color shifts, always paying attention to the little details that make you smile. when you do find it, gently brushing his hair aside, he grins at you softly and says, “figured I’d keep a piece of you with me.”

husband gojo! who genuinely tries his best to make time for you, despite how often he gets called away for missions. sometimes days pass without him seeing you, and the distance wears on him more than he'd ever admit. when he finally comes home, the moment he sees you, he's on his knees, pressing kisses to every inch of your body, mumbling softly between each one about how much he missed you. "missed you so much, baby... couldn't stop thinking about you," he whispers against your skin, his voice laced with exhaustion and love. it's in moments like these-when he's been deprived of your warmth and attention-that he starts to second-guess being a jujutsu sorcerer at all. because no mission, no battle, could ever compare to being with you.

husband gojo! who drops everything the second he steps through the door after a grueling three-day mission, exhaustion forgotten the moment he sees you standing there, holding out a small gift box. confusion turns to shock as he opens it, and inside, a positive pregnancy test. for a moment, the world stops; his heart races, his breath catches, and then it hits him: he has a family now.

husband gojo! who doesn’t even hesitate. right then and there, he decides he can’t be both a sorcerer and a father. he refuses to miss a single pregnancy milestone, a single moment with you or his child, because of his work. the next day, he quits. the elders, the Gojo clan, they can pester him, manipulate him, lecture him about “duty” and “protecting the country,” but he won’t budge. “It’s my duty to protect my family,” he’ll say firmly, his hand resting on your growing belly. no one will take him away from you and the life you’re building together.

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joelsdagger · 6 months ago

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walk the line || one shot

joel miller x f!reader

masterlist | ao3 || follow @joelsdaggerupdates for notifs!!

pairing: boston qz!joel x f!reader summary: you and joel have a deal: sex in exchange for supplies. no questions asked. so what happens when you do? or joel fucks you while you’re in a headlock. that’s pretty much it. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: boston qz era, undefined relationship, mentions of sexual favors, choking, rough unprotected p in v sex, dark!joel, mean!joel [in the sense that he doesn’t let her come oops :( ], dubcon [reader tries to loosen his grip], noncon [i’m putting this here just in case], no aftercare. think that’s it. word count: 1.2k

a/n: just….don’t ask. i don’t know what this is. thank you to @papurgaatika for holding a gun to my head so i would post this looking this over, love you schmooks <3

please heed the tags. protect your peace if this isn’t for you.

He’s being rough. Rougher than the countless times he’s fucked you before.

In the time since you and Joel started this whole arrangement, you never needed to tell him to fuck you at a blistering pace. He just did it.

Because you and him are the same. He told you that once. He said that you and him are two sides of the same coin. Both of you are always keeping your walls up and people out. Always keeping everyone at arm’s length. It made this arrangement easy, simple.

There was just one rule: Nothing personal. A rule you happily got on board with. Getting personal is not really your thing. You learned that it was easier to survive at the end of the world without having someone to care about. Staying detached worked for you. You didn’t care enough about Joel Miller to even bother giving him a second thought.

At least, that’s what you wanted to believe.

A few minutes ago, you made the mistake of doing just that.

You got personal. Flicked open the glass casing and pushed the big red button. Nobody gets personal with Joel Miller. Most importantly, you don’t. No. Never you. And now he’s punishing you. Maybe he’s punishing himself too, because he didn’t stop you. Didn’t stop this.

He’s being brutal, intense, and mean. And usually you could handle it because, like plenty of times before, you wanted him to.

But this time, you didn’t.

Your cunt is sensitive, and it hurts; it burns more and more with every rough snap of his hips; warm liquid pricks at your eyes in discontent. Your swollen cunt betrays you, squeezes around his wide girth, and he grunts against the shell of your ear in response. You’re sure he thinks you're begging him for more. To him, the swift flutter of your cunt is a silent tell to pick up the pace.

And he does. Relentlessly.

With every unforgiving thrust of his hips, knocking the wind out of your lungs, and the firm hold of his forearm against your neck, compressing your throat, you were barely hanging on. Black spots spatter across your vision, and your eyes slip closed; tears of anguish streak down your cheeks.

It’s too much. You choke on a sob, and your hand comes up to his left arm, weakly tugging at it, attempting to make space between the crook of his elbow and your neck to suck in an ephemeral breath of air.

Instead, he tightens his grip on you; his left arm pulls you into his chest, and his right hand moves heavily to the top of your head as he brutally fucks up into your throbbing hole. Your head dips back beneath his chin, and the crown of your skull stings as the plastic clip hanging out at the bottom of the valve of his gas mask digs into your scalp.

Your failure to follow his rule — his only rule — had pissed him off so immensely that he didn’t even waste a second to remove his mask.

His muffled voice cuts through the thick haze that took over your mind. “Stay,” he orders through gritted teeth, and you obey.

Because he’s teaching you a lesson.

With him, you mind your tongue.

With him, you do as you're told.

With him, you don’t ask questions.

With him, you don’t get fucking personal.

And with your head locked between both of his strong arms and his fat cock hammering your cunt, punching at your cervix — forcing himself in — he makes certain of that. Makes your mind go fucking blank. Because when your sloppy cunt is stuffed full of his cock, your mind goes fuzzy, and your body goes limp in his hold, you are in no position to question him. To pry. To challenge him. To fight him. A brutal, shattering reminder that Joel Miller calls the shots.

And Joel doesn’t say a word. Not this time. Not when he’s using your body as a way to cope with his anger — to get himself off. It’s all breathless groans and grunts that tell you your holes are enough to satisfy him. And for a moment, you can’t help but wonder if this is how he always saw you — a means to an end.

Maybe you felt the same way about him.

You don’t have time to dwell on it because then you feel it — he twitches inside your aching cunt, signaling his rapid release. He hisses as he pulls out of your wasted hole, his length bobs against the crease beneath your ass, smearing your sweaty skin with your mixed wet. His cock throbs against you as his seed spills onto your quivering legs, coating your inner thighs, and leaking onto the tattered, moth-eaten mattress.

You whimper pathetically as his arms release you, and your shuddering form falls forward, crashing into the dusty mattress beneath you. Your chest heaves as your hand comes up to the column of your neck, your weak fingers pressing at the sharp, searing pang there. You don’t doubt your skin has already begun to smart. You cough profusely as your lungs fill with air, a humiliating attempt at catching your breath.

Joel’s left hand comes down beside your head on the mattress, cushioning his fall as he hovers over you. He groans as his other hand replaces your cunt, and with every fast, wet pump of his fist, the pulsing tip bumps against your skin; his release now paints the small of your back.

A first.

And in the back of your mind, you try telling yourself it’s his way of claiming you — that he still wants you after you stepped out of line. Your stomach lurches at the same time your cunt flutters at the thought. You’re not sure how you feel about it, but you do know you feel empty without him inside you. And other than what happened here, he typically makes you feel good. Leaves you satisfied before he chases his own release.

Today, he didn’t. He used your body as a means for punishment, and you let him. A penance. For crossing the line he told — you both agreed not to overstep.

A few moments later, you’re pulling your distressed jeans over your cum-coated thighs while your glassy eyes watch Joel as he zips up his own, his eyes fixed on the molded wooden floor in front. “Joel,” your voice hoarse and raw.

He peers up at you beneath his lashes, the sunlight clawing through the taped-up window catches on his eyes; the amber in his hazel irises glowering in the light.

“It won’t happen again,” you whisper.

“No,” he leans forward, grabs his gas mask you didn’t notice he pulled off, and the orange pill bottle you were meant to deliver to him without sticking your nose where it didn’t belong, and he grunts while he moves to stand, “it won’t.”

And only when his heavy footsteps fade down the dark hallway of the abandoned building on the outskirts of the QZ, leaving you alone to stare back at the pale, rotten wallpaper with a painful and pleading ache between your trembling legs, do you realize exactly why no one defies Joel fucking Miller.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller one shot #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #tw dubcon #tw noncon #wazoo!!!#noelle's workshop

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suguella · 9 months ago

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LESSON IN PRIVATE ꒰ ft satoru gojo ꒱

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : gojo, a fuck boy, insists on getting you to go to a party but since you’ve been failing classes, he offers to help you.

꒰ CONTENT WARNING ꒱ : explicit content, friends with benefits trope, porn with (?) a plot, p in v, fuckboy!gojo, foul language, cunningulus, oral (m + f), nipple play, degrading, and reader is a female.

꒰ AUTHORS NOTE ꒱ : bro this has been in my drafts for so fucking long, enjoy ;) @screampied 🤍.

gojo : party in 2 hours, get ready :)

you : can't, gotta revise.

you were failing classes. that was a big problem and you had one person to blame; Gojo. he always managed to convince you to go to parties with him and, surprisingly, you would always say yes — but that was only because you had a thing for him.

gojo : im coming over

you : well im not opening the door for you

gojo : you’re going to do that to your best friend?

you sigh, staring at your notes. you thought to yourself, should i just fuck it and go? gojo was annoying, so a simple no wouldn’t stop him from dragging you out your house. but then again you were failing.

gojo : im outside, open the door.

you open to see to see a very tall white-haired man smirking at you, “no hi? hello?” you rolled your eyes as he chuckle. you invite him inside before breaking it to him “toru, i need to revise. sorry, but you’re on your own for this one”

“i can help you revise.” he said and you busted out laughing, "not to be blunt and all, but you're just a fuck boy"

gojo smirked, "we'll see about that," and you accepted his offer.

you were on your bed with your legs wide open, gojos face buried in your pussy. He slips your hand between your legs and made you rub your swollen clit. “come y/n you’re almost there.”

he inserts 2 fingers in, pumping vigorously while his other hand pulled on your nipples.

“come on y/n.” you didn’t know the answer only because the pleasure was taking away your concentration.

“fuck toru, i don’t know” he sucks on your pussy lips causing you to tug on his hair. “that’s not the answer baby, try again.”

he sucks on to your clit making an O shape causing your eyes roll back. “t-toru, is it a class of sugars that cannot be hydrolyzed to give a simpler sugar?”

he smirked at you, “good girl but fuck this, i need to be inside you” gojo toke off his boxer, his dick springing out.

“you’re too big” he runs his dick along your folds “sh baby, you can take it.” He holds onto your hips, nails digging into your poor skin as he plunges himself in.

the sound of skin slapping was the second noise compared to hearing you moaning his name.

he watched, seeing you play your erect nipples. you felt his cock twitch and thicken against the hug of your walls, “toru, fuck” your eyes glisten with tears as he stretches you out.

“you can do this y/n” he says as he rocks your body causing you to whimper. with each thrust came a moan, your nails scrape his lower back. he hissed, “careful babe”

you tilt your head back, searching for gojos lips. he reciprocated by grabbing your throat with his free hand and tugs at your top lip with his teeth.

you’re almost there and gojo was too, you both finish, still holding on to each other. he didn’t want to let go of you, at least not yet.

he’d be lying if he said he never wished for this.

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le-fruit-de-la-passion · 2 months ago

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Professor!Viktor Headcanons

Professor!Viktor who just knows you're not in mechanical engineering 101 to learn anything. Every week you come to class, sit in the front row at the table closest to his desk, and openly stare at him like there's nobody else around you. You rest your cheek in the palm of your hand, with a slight pout of your plump lips, and watch him like a lovesick puppy. You always wear tops that are much too low and skirts that are much too short for university, and he's certain it’s only to check what makes him tick. But if you think that's going to be enough, you're sorely mistaken: there are few people he dislikes more than those who go through school mindlessly, without any intent to study or to give it their all. And you're not the first, nor the last, to try and get his attention like this. So, he ignores you.

Professor!Viktor who is genuinely surprised to see the result of your first class quiz is an A+. A stroke of luck, maybe? But then comes the second quiz, and the third, and the first big assignment, and you ace all of them brilliantly. He can't help a few wayward glances towards you during his lectures, trying to understand how you do it. The button of your dress shirt is pulled so tightly it might give out at any moment, and he can see the colour of your bra without meaning to: a vibrant lavender with pale lace. You're still looking at him with that enamoured look in your eyes, batting your eyelashes, visibly not absorbing a single word he says.

Professor!Viktor who asks you to come by his office after class at the mid-semester, because it's driving him insane. You keep getting the top marks for every single exam, but you never show an inkling of attention in class. All you do is sit there, dumb and pretty, begging him with your eyes to take you right there and then. You probably wouldn't even mind if it was in front of the other students; maybe that's part of whatever steamy fantasy goes through your mind during his lectures. Since last week, you've started ‘accidentally’ letting your pen fall off your desk, bending down at ridiculous angles to show him (and only him) the full expense of your thighs and the thin fabric of your panties. Your lack of subtlety is becoming as outrageous as it is a little endearing. And yes, he would be lying if he said it didn't affect him, that he didn't have frustrating thoughts of you at night. Thoughts he absolutely shouldn't have towards a student of his, no matter how blatantly flirtatious. But the conundrum that you are has managed to crawl under his skin, and he wants to fuck some respect for academia into you. He wants to give you exactly what you've been pleading for for weeks, until you understand exactly why you should have listened to him in class. But he has to know the truth behind your grades, first. If it turns out you've been cheating, then he'll expel you from the course without a second thought. But if you haven't…

Professor!Viktor who makes you sit on a chair in his office, opting to stand in front of you. He had intended it to be intimidating, but it's clearly having the opposite effect with the wanting expression on your face, your lips slightly parted in waiting. He’s certain that with only one word from him, you'd be on your knees and ready to suck his cock. And it's an idea that's getting harder and harder to resist, with that infernal way you always look at him. He thinks it might be the first time he’s heard your voice when you speak up. It sounds as pretty as the rest of you, just asking to be broken down into pants and moans. He’s very disappointed to learn all you've been doing is recording his lessons with your phone, and listening to them again at home. But then, you confess to something else.

Professor!Viktor who is unable to reply immediately, because the thought of you, riding a vibrator as you listen to recordings of him talking about linear algebra, is absolutely maddening. He can't get over the fact that you're so focused on his voice when you fuck yourself on your toys that you manage to remember all of the basics of kinematics for the exams. It's an unorthodox method, without a doubt, but you've proven its efficacity; and who is he to tell you how to best do your studying?

Professor!Viktor who agrees to let you keep audio recording his classes for the rest of the semester, and who promises that if you keep up the string of perfect grades, he’ll let you have the real thing at the end.

#the worms in my brain are using warp drive #arcane viktor #viktor x reader #viktor x reader smut #arcane smut #viktor imagine #viktor headcanons #my writing ✍️

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 days ago

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Doing Time 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, threats, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you try to keep your brother safe in jail but put yourself in danger along the way.

Characters: con/ex-con!Steve Rogers

Note: Since' I'm vibing.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You never expected it to be like this.

It’s still surreal to you. The frigid halls, the concrete walls, and the bulletproof barrier between you and your own brother. Despite all those troubled years, of him being lost, you just never could think he’d end up here.

On the other side of a window; where you can’t hug him, you can’t hold his hand, you can’t even poke him for being the annoying the little brother. You can only stare at him and grieve. You try not to show it. You try to be strong for him. Maybe it’s a lesson.

You wait for the guards to bring him as you sit in the stiff chair. As you think past to the days when you and Vaughn were just kids, when his antics were harmless, it’s all so distorted. Like a dream. Like it never was.

You remember pushing him in the swing at the park, laughing with him about jumping in puddles, but then there are the other scenes stuck on replay. The boys teasing him until he hit them. Until he held them down and filled their mouths with rocks. He wasn’t violent then, not in your mind, he was just protecting himself. Now you see, that was only the beginning of a twisted road.

The door on the other side opens and closes. You look up and lean in, trying to see around the walls of the booth. Other inmates sit along the row, facing their own loved ones, soaking up those few minutes they can.

Vaughn is shoved into the seat across from you. The guard hooks the chain of his coughs to the desk and pats his shoulder with an unheard warning. You sit up and grab the receiver. He does the same, reluctantly. He won’t look you in the eye. He hardly can as his left one is swollen shut, his nose is split at the bridge, and he wears a stiff neck brace.

“What happened to you?” You gasp.

He pokes his tongue into his cheek. He hovers the phone away from his battered face. His tattooed knuckles clench. You repeat your question.

“A fight.” He shrugs and wince.

“A fight? You didn’t think to tell me when I called? How—the guards--”

“The guards don’t give a shit,” he hisses. “Just the way it is.”

“Why--”

“I did what I had to. Some guys in here are just looking for it.”

“Vaughn, look at me,” you demand and lean forward.

He closes his eyes and takes a breath. He opens them and meets your gaze. Shame twitches in his cheek. You’re the only person who calls him anything but V. He sighs.

“I was being stupid. I ran my mouth and... shit, I woulda been killed if it was for this other guy down in Block D. Saved my neck,” he gulps. “Really, he did.”

You frown and rub your forehead, “he saved you? Didn’t think there’d be much of that in there.”

“Huh?”

“Like you said, the way it is. Why would someone help?”

His eyes dart away. For all his sneakiness, he’s never been able to lie to you. Still, he can’t admit it.

“Who was it?” You ask.

“Who? Why? You got friends in here?” He snorts.

“Well, you won’t tell me why they helped, so I don’t know, Vaughn, give me something.”

He rolls his eyes; at least, the one you can see. “Okay, okay. He’s got pull in here. He’s... been here a while. Kinda the big dog.” He sniffs and lowers his voice, “he’s got a lot of friends.”

“You mean he’s in a gang?”

“If that’s what you wanna call it,” he scoffs.

“What would you call it? I’m not stupid. Someone like that doesn’t do you a favour out of the goodness of their heart, so what’s the catch? Tell me.”

“Sis, you don’t get it. You don’t survive in here unless you got someone to watch your back.”

You drag your hand over your head and sit back, “I know. It’s-- it’s just that sounds dangerous. Vaughn, you said you were going to learn from this.”

“He’s not the worst,” he says. “The guy, he’s got a code. He keeps people busy so they’re not hanging around sharpening shivs. It is what it is, but it’s better than the alternative.”

“Still punching each other in the face. Beating each other senseless,” you accuse.

“Look, it could’ve been worse. You should’ve seen the other guy. And the one who helped me, everyone is afraid of him. I got him in my corner. You want me to make it out, that’s how.” Vaugh shifts and touches the neck brace. “And sure as shit I’m not gonna turn around and spit in his face. I owe him my life.”

You think. He's right, you don’t know anything about being inside. And you don’t have any other suggestions. At least he has someone looking for him when you can’t. They might even be able to protect him from his own worst enemy; himself.

Still, new allies mean new enemies. At least, going by the TV shows. You doubt those are accurate. What can you do but let him figure it out. Pray that he does.

“Tell me who.”

“What?” He snips.

“Just tell me?”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I’m curious. What else are we gonna talk about?” You say.

“Yeah, guess you wouldn’t wanna hear about my cell mate’s shits,” he snickers. “Guys name is Rogers, Steve. Don’t know what got him in here but he can hold his own. He’s like a walking Ken doll. Maybe a bit forgotten but, put together.”

“Ah, you interested?” You wonder.

“He’s not my type. You know I’m picky.” He smirks then chuckles only to wince in pain. “Stop making me laugh.”

“Well, I hate to put an even bigger smile on your ugly face but I did add credit to your commissary. Phone time too. You gotta call mom.” You try to roll the tension from your shoulders, “I won’t tell her about the fight but you promise to call. She’s on my ass.”

“Thanks,” he deflates, “I... I didn’t mean to hurt her. Or you. Ya know?”

“I know, Vaughn. There’s time,” you assure him.

The rest of your thirty minutes is spent trying not to fixate on his bruises. It makes you sick to think about what happened; to imagine him being beat like that. You have no illusions about prison, you’re terrified, and you don’t deny it’s his own fault he’s there. None of that can change that he’s still your baby brother.

When it’s time, you don’t want to go. The unhook his cuffs from the loop and force him up. You watch him go before you leave, escorted by a guard into the hall.

You stop by the desk to schedule another visit. You tap the pen on the form as you think. You look up at the uniformed receptionist.

“Can I get another form?” You ask. It’s a bad idea.

“Sure,” she’s unfazed by the request and slides another form through the slot. You write in the time and date then pause as you try to remember the name; Steve Rogers. You don’t know his number but hopefully that doesn’t matter.

You sign and submit both forms under the window. The guard takes them and reviews them with a quick skim of her eyes.

“Rogers?” She reads aloud.

“Yeah? Is that a problem?” You wonder.

“Not my call. Needs to be approved. Even then, the inmate needs to agree,” she puts the forms next to the keyboard and types.

“Oh, well... I guess I’ll wait and see.”

“Not saying anything,” she drones. “It’s just... he doesn’t get visitors.”

“How long has he been here?” You ask.

“Can’t disclose that,” she rebuffs. “But maybe he’ll agree, just for a change in the days. Board’s the real problem.”

“Well, thanks. I appreciate the help,” you put the pen down. “Have a good day.”

“You too, miss.” She responds without looking away from her screen.

You turn and drag your feet toward the doors. You kind of hope it’s denied. You’re too embarrassed to go and ask her to just shred the form after all.

⛓️‍💥

The prison calls to confirm both visitations, not so much to your content. The more you think about it, the worse the idea seems. The man is not only a stranger, he’s a convict and a criminal. You don’t even know what he did.

And what are you going to say? Your whole intent is to thank him but now you think he might just laugh in your face. What if you make it worse?

And you can’t not go now. If he showed up and you didn’t. If he ever finds out it has something to do with your brother, you may have just put him in danger. Oh, why don’t you think things through? Maybe you’re more like Vaughn than you care to admit.

You drive to the facility. You check in with the guard, they do their usual search, then take you into the visitors’ bay. Your brother looks better than the last time you saw him. In better spirits too. No trouble to report, at least none he will admit.

Your half-hour goes to fast. You remind him to call your mom, your mind wandering to your next thirty minutes. The guard tells you to stay as they take Vaughn away. You do. For fifteen whole minutes before the door signals another arrival.

The guards lead the inmate to your booth. You look up at him shyly. He’s tall, thick arms, broad chest, muscled bound shoulders. The jumpsuit clings to him tightly as if they can’t get one to fit properly. His blonde hair is made paler by streaks of silver. His blues eyes are edged with crows feet and his already handsome face defined with the lines of his age.

He’s older than you expect but no less intimidating. He sits, his posture unwavering, and he stares at you blankly. They hook his cuffs to the desk and leave you. There’s only expectation in his expression. He is not the one who starts conversations.

Vaughn’s right. He doesn’t look like the typical inmate.

You wait but he doesn’t move. You grab the receive and put it to your ear. You chew your lip as he tilts his head. He slowly reaches to pick up the one on his side.

You gulp but can’t find your voice. You stare at him helplessly. You eke out, “hi.”

His cheek dimples, “wasn’t expecting you. Mostly ‘cause I don’t know you.”

“Um, uh,” you sniff and shake your head. You fidget with the cord.

“Take a breath, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart?” You echo.

“Well, you got a name?”

You clear your throat and give your name. It steadies you, just enough.

“You saved my brother. Vaughn.”

He scoffs, “you’re that ugly bastard’s sister? Why on earth are you bugging me?”

“I just... he told me what happened. I wanted to thank you for saving his life.”

“Saving his—Is that what I did. Well, rest assured, I didn’t do it for his sake. I did it because I can use him,” he leans forward on his elbows, crossing his arms. He keeps the receiver between his shoulder and ear.

“He’s still alive because of you,” you argue. His constant stare makes you squirm.

“He’s alive as long as his mouth isn’t aimed at me. Let me make it clear, I hold not kinship for your brother. In fact, I was five seconds away from smashing his teeth in myself so your visit is entirely unwarranted and unnecessary.”

You’re taken aback. Not just by his statement, but by his language. He’s eloquent.

“I... so why did you show up?”

“Curiosity. Boredom,” he shrugs and sits up as he grabs the phone with his hands. “Not much to do in here, in case that isn’t obvious.”

“Well, glad I could entertain you,” you adjust the receiver then slowly move it away from your ear.

“Hey,” his suddenness catches you. You keep the phone hovered an inch away. “Where are you going?”

You arch your brows, “you said it yourself, this is pointless.”

“You got time left. Might as well use it,” he counters.

“I’m not going to sit here and be mocked, Mr.--”

"Steve,” he chuckles, the first time his expression cracks. “Or you can use my inmate number,” he points to the digits across the left side of his chest. “You wanted this and I didn’t let them drag me here for a measly five minutes.”

“I don’t have anything else to say to you,” you tilt the receiver away and he shows his palm, a gesture to stop you. You pause and put the speaker back to your ear.

“We’ll figure that out along the way.”

“Why?”

“Sweetheart,” he pauses then says your name, “fine. Can I be honest with you? I’d like to talk to someone who doesn’t piss five inches from my bunk, anyone who isn’t trying to get something from me, who isn’t trying to stab me in the back. I thought you were a reporter, I was gonna say no. I didn’t so please, let’s keep talking.” He takes a breath and lets it out through his nose. “Let’s just have a human conversation.”

You tweak your lips and think. You did drag him here. He stares back, placid. You’re not sure why you stay but you do. You settle in with the receiver.

“So, where do we begin?” You ask.

“Why don’t you? There’s not much going on in here. Not anything you’d wanna hear about.”

“Um, okay, I don’t know...”

“You look like a teacher? Or librarian?” He ventures.

You squint at him. You’re not sure if it’s an insult. “Admin. For a clinic.”

“A secretary. Close enough. You like your job?” He runs his fingers over the desk.

You shake your head, “does anyone?”

“I guess not. Why don’t you like it?” He waits. You have no answer. It’s still awkward. “Come on. It’s the same thing in here every day. Humour me.”

You exhale, “alright.”

What’s the worst he can do? Laugh about the office drama? You think it’s just as silly. And you are the one who started all this. It'll be a unique experience you hope you never have to think about again.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #series #doing time #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #marvel #mcu #au #captain america #avengers

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euphoria-looney · 14 days ago

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Who Said Money Can't Buy You Happiness?

Yan!Crown Prince!Connor x Princess!Reader

m.list|V!special

"Where are you? - Where are you?- I'm at home. - I'm in a taxi. - Are you almost home? - Oh... I'm sorry. - For what? - Just, everything. - Go home. - I left my wallet there. - Ahh. - You know - Nevermind. - Just say it. - This doesn't feel like love anymore..." Can't Love You Anymore by IU ft. OHHYUK.

Divider Creds: @selysie and @anitalenia

This plot was inspired by @niwaart and @mimiiiiiiiiisstuff

Prince Connor hadn’t felt alive since the moment he was born, forced into a role that made everyone around you pretend to like you.

Of course, he’s grateful, but there are times he can’t help wondering, when will anything change?

Then he got the change he wanted, Tim, nothing romantic or anything, but Tim was smart and cool and another Prince for a different kingdom. Besides, he made a great partner to spare against and just talk to.

That wasn't the only change that Tim had brought upon him as he met [name]. Don’t get him wrong, she’s a sweet girl… but isn’t she trying too hard for his attention like all the only ladies of the court? She clung hard to him, though. He couldn’t shove her off, but sometimes, and only sometimes, he would be getting pushed above the bar.

It irked him how she kept following him around, and when that marriage proposal came around, he was borderline pissed but accepted it with a smile and a nod as it had pleased his father, pleased both the relations to the kingdoms, but it certainly did not please him and how Tim knew it each time during a sparring lesson he’d let Tim know that fact.

He knew he shouldn’t be this worked up on it; maybe he wouldn’t have been if it wasn’t for the constant bothering, every day, non-stop, it would be cookies, flowers, maybe a woven handkerchief. He’d throw them away without a second thought.

Call him childish, but she just wasn’t the one.

He’s still ashamed of the one time he’d finally been caught throwing away her fresh batch of cookies that she had just given him.

“... [name], I’m sorry that you had to find out this way I just don’t like what you give me.” He thought she’d get the memo, but instead, she started making other things like croissants, macaroons, donuts, candy, and salty snacks. All discarded in a trash somewhere.

Then came a ball like any other, and like every other time, he’d make an excuse to leave his fiance alone, he knew it always caused a stir in society, but it hadn’t impacted him much, and then he stumbled upon his salvation.

The moonlight glistened on her pale skin, illuminating her gorgeous ocean blue eyes, pure, innocent, and caring eyes. The way her hair flowed through the night sky like the world was made for her, waving on like tides in the wind. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold air but left no goosebumps on her soft skin, as that was just her natural appearance. But that’s not the only thing attracting him.

No, it had to be the way she admired the mundane things in life like the flowers, the snapdragons that are always there, yet someone had taken the time to appreciate them, or the way animals surrounded her, feeling safe and curled up near her. She had dimples on each side of her cheeks when she was small, the melodic sound of her laugh, and naivety when she finally noticed him stumbling to stand up straight, giving a very clumsy curtsy.

That had made him chuckle, he extended his hand and let her palm lay on top of his before giving her hand a fleeting kiss, as she soon had to go back to her family. He felt disappointed when she left but noticed she went back to the Wayne Imperial family.

He couldn’t get her out of his mind, so he finally asked Tim.

“Hey, Tim, my man.”

“I’m unable to cancel the engagement between you and [name], Kon… Unless you somehow get her to agree or my father and your father while you’re at it.” He unsheathed his sword, and I followed his actions.

“No, nothing like that.” For now… he had thought to himself.

“Who was that blondie with you guys last night? The with those blue eyes.” I grunted as I blocked his slash, and he retracted before going to hit another blow.

“Ah, Serena, she’s my new sister and, between you and me, my favorite sibling.”

“Already?”

“Indeed, it shocked me too, though I hated them all equally, but unlike us, she isn’t corrupt and stuck up. So, you can’t help but like her.” Connor couldn’t disagree with that and went for another blow, running to close the gap between them and jumping before giving an angled slash. That resulted in both their swords to go flying.

Making them go take a quick break, and came a [name] with a new snack it was caramel-drizzled brownies. He only gave her a little bit of acknowledgment, making her understand the sign, and left without a hitch; you could see her small smile that seemed a bit disappointed but went away nonetheless.

Tim took one before eating it, for the first time, something had changed Tim tried her cooking before Connor could throw it away.

“Damn, this is good, didn’t you say you liked brownies?” He wiped off crumbs from his mouth, but Connor couldn’t help but feel nothing towards the pastries, imagining Serena, now, if she was the one that made the brownies, why this would be a whole different story.

Eventually, they went back to normal conversations.

“Listen, Connor, Serena’s native, she’s not one to judge anyone, no matter how dangerous they are to her. Recently, [name]’s been doing stuff to her, for now, nothing too extreme, but that’s not the point whenever my family can’t be at any event, do protect her for us.” Connor felt an opportunity opened up for him.

Then he started seeing Serena more than talking, more than admiring her more, and he just couldn’t do it anymore.

He’s in love with her.

Then, a banquet was hosted, and we finally decided to cancel the engagement.

I walked up to [name]. She seemed different, but he hadn’t cared before, so this new attitude wouldn’t change how he felt now.

“[name], I have something to confess…” he had continued the princess took the words away from him.

“You’re breaking off the engagement.

He nodded. “... I’m breaking- wait, what?” He froze. That’s not what was supposed to happen, well,l not in the way he thought it would go, at least.

Somehow, while Connor was still in a frozen state, they settled on 500,000 gold coins as their way of finalizing their canceled contract.

He kept getting bothered by many ladies during that ball, which reminded him why that engagement was important to him somewhat, and finally getting ready for bed, he couldn’t help but toss and turn.

Why though?

Isn’t this what he wanted?

Yes, yes, of course, he had wanted this. But why? Why was Princess [name] so calm about this?

Then, a few days passed, and no cookies, flowers, or handkerchiefs. That’s fine he didn’t like them anyway, he always threw them away. He then glanced at the last thing [name] had cooked for him.

Cookies.

Just like the first time she had brought something for him.

He grabbed one before bitting off a bit, then another, before picking up another cookie and repeating the process before finishing it off.

Then, somehow, he managed to be in her office and approached her.

“Is there something you need from me, you Highness.”

For an odd reason, he kept silent, but it seemed as if he said something as she only rubbed her head out of agitation and used her pen to scratch something off her paper before standing up, and he couldn’t help but hold onto her wrist before she scrunched her face at him pulling away holding her arm out to Aldira the butler that has been the talk after the ceremony for the twins. He gave her some hand sanitizer, and she motioned him away he headed somewhere.

She sighed before saying, “If that’s all, I’ll be excused.”

He tried reaching out again, and then, all of a sudden, he was in a whole other universe.

Met with… [name]?

[name] has adjusted fine into her position with all the businessy stuff and the singing, playing instruments, ballet, and ice skating. She wanted to die but felt like that would be wrong as the og![name] probably wouldn’t like that, at least, that’s what she assumes.

Then, as she suddenly had a clear thought in her head to go to her office, she looked at herself in the mirror, normally, what was not normal was Connor Kent dressed up in a royal suit… That brought back memories.

“[name]?” He spoke out.

“How are you here, Your Highness?” [name] trembled.

He went over to her, bringing her into an embrace before being promptly shoved off.

“... [name], I know that I’ve made a mistake, but please.”

“Please, just leave me alone. You’ve made your bed; now you have to lay in it.”

“What are you saying..?”

“I’m saying I’m done being pathetic; I’m done loving you.”

“That can’t be true- [name].” Connor tried to reach out, but suddenly, everything went dark for the both of them.

Shooting up [name] heavily breathed.

Blinking his eyes open, his hand for some reason, reaching out.

“That was all a dream…”

Btw guy this is not canon ❤.

Sorry for not updating the main story, I'm feeling a little (a lot) lazy and have a brief moment of pausing when I try to write for either of my stories.

I am slowly able to make progress on my SMM story, but I can't say the same for this one.

Enjoy this one. Hopefully, if I'm too bored at school and don't short-circuit, I can publish another chapter or something IDK.

Anyway, Happy Late Valentine's Day! -

ILoveeeMoney

Taglist (?) I hope I added everyone and hopefully, none of them are wrong.

@kittzu @charlenexoxo1 @bat1212 @silverklaus @sillysealsies @roseytheteacup @iliveinyourwallsrat @cozmie @tomoyaki @cynniee @jsprien213 @kore-of-the-underworld @anonymoushehehehe @ninihrtss @devia @fanficloverlol @masterradd-28 @aigenarated @welpthisisboring @h-ib @diemdurantia @alishii @random4137 @totired0-0 @00hellohello00 @sh4rk-k1d @shadowytravelerlover @r-u-s-s-i-a-h @paperhermits @ocean-mochi @simpingpandas @crazycaoticsimp @candlejuice @twismare @itsberrydreemurstuff @delias-stuff @shycreatorreview @randomlyappearingartist @not-aya @c4xcocoa @midnightgrimoire @time-shardz

Me tagging people who probably came for pt.2:

#platonic batfam #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x reader #platonic yandere batfam #yandere batfamily x reader #yandere batfamily #batfam x neglected reader #batfam #neglected reader

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dixonswingz · 6 months ago

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Best Run Ever

Summary: Carol makes you and Daryl go on a run together, hoping this would make you friends. All you two ever did though was argue. Although, after this run you’d be thanking Carol.

Warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, oral (f!receiving), semi-public, slapping, spanking, punishment, pet name, angry smut, rough, overstimulation

wc: 1873

“C’mon!”

You were going on a run with Daryl. Ever since you met, there has always been a weird feeling. You argue almost every time you are within each other's vicinity. This run is gonna be hell.

This was Carol’s idea. You love Carol, she’s like a mother to you. But right now, you were just full of anger. She was trying to get you guys to start being nice to each other. All the arguing was giving everyone a headache.

You grunted, grabbing your bag full of necessities. This was going to be about a 3 day run. Daryl was sitting on his motorcycle, impatiently waiting for you. As you sat down on the motorcycle, Daryl let out a frustrated sigh.

Daryl grabbed your hands and wrapped them around his waist. He was getting impatient, he just wanted to get this over with. As the path he took got bumpier, more friction was rubbing against your clit. God, you can’t be feeling like this right now. What if Daryl could feel a wet spot through your pants?

You sighed, holding onto him tighter. Although you always argued, when you first laid eyes on Daryl you thought he was pretty attractive. Did you think about him every time you touched yourself? Yeah. But you felt pretty guilty about it.

Once you guys got to a decent location, you both hopped off the bike and began searching all the buildings. Thankfully there weren’t lots of walkers, making this easier to get stuff.

After raiding a couple of stores, you found a makeup store. Lately, you’ve felt extremely insecure. In the world before, you always wore makeup because you didn’t feel beautiful enough.

Drifting away from Daryl, you snuck inside the makeup store and began to look at what remained. There was only one walker, it was easy to kill. As you were looking at some lipsticks and eyeshadow, you heard the floor creak. You shrugged it off, assuming it was Daryl.

All of a sudden, you felt hands grab you. It was a walker. “Fuck!” You screamed. Daryl immediately ran after the sound of your voice trying to find you. The walker was so close to your face, you thought this was it.

Daryl busted through the front door, immediately killing the walker that was on top of you. He looked pissed. “ ‘Er really lookin for makeup right now?” The frustration in his voice growing.

”Knew this was a bad idea. Comin all the way out ‘ere with yer dumbass.” Anger grew over your face. What did he just call you? You clenched your fists, really upset. “What the fuck did you just say to me?” As you stepped closer, you really got the urge to just slap him.

”Ya heard me. Yer a dumbass.” You’ve had enough. Without thinking, you slapped him across the face and ran out the building. You didn’t know where you were gonna go, so you just decided to run off to where he left the motorcycle.

As you sat against a tree, tears started to form in your eyes. And soon, they were sliding down your pink cheeks. Even with all the arguing, he’s never called you any names before. This hurt you, a lot.

Daryl had followed behind you, not bothering to run. A few twigs snapped behind you. It was Daryl. “Go the fuck away.” As you spoke, you tried to not make it obvious you were crying but you could hear it in your voice. “Naw.” Daryl grabbed you and pulled you up by your shirt.

Fear grew in your eyes. Was he about to hurt you? “W-what are you doing..” He carried you over to the motorcycle. “ M gonna teach ya a lesson.” All you could think about was the possibility of him hurting you. Daryl put you down on your feet, he could see the fear in your eyes.

You gulped nervously. “Bend over.” Heat took over your face. You didn’t know if you were hearing things right. “Huh..?” Daryl grunted and forced you to bend over the motorcycle seat. “Already ignorin me?” His hands grabbed at the waistband of your pants. This aroused you, but all this time you thought he hated your guts.

He pulled down your pants, revealing the hot pink thong you were wearing. Seeing that only made him harder. Suddenly, you felt a sharp stinging pain in your ass as Daryl slapped you harder than you could imagine. You yelped out at the sensation, but you enjoyed it.

”If ya slap me ever again.. just think about this moment.” Daryl hummed as he spanked you again. He pressed his bulge against your barely covered pussy as you whimpered, grinding against him before he forcefully grabbed your hips. “I’m in charge. Ya ain’t gettin anything your way darlin.” You whined. All you wanted was to feel him inside of you.

”D-Daryl please..” Your voice was so quiet he almost didn’t hear you. Another forceful slap landed on your ass. “Please wha?” Although you couldn’t see his face, you knew he had a stupid smirk on his face. You could hear it. “Please… fuck me.. I-i need it..”

He raised you to his chest as he roughly pulled your shirt off, tits bouncing as the restricting fabric was gone. “Always knew ya were a slut” You got goosebumps as he whispered in your ears. He pushed you back down against the seat as he unbuckled his belt, letting his pants fall to his ankles.

You started to grow impatient. His finger ran along the thin, small cloth covering your pussy. You let out a quiet moan, getting wetter every second. Daryl bent down, pulling the thong off of you as he went on his knees.

The slick on your lips glistening in the sun aroused Daryl even more. He leaned closer, breathing against your pussy as you shuttered at the feeling. A loud moan escaped your lips as he plunged his tongue into you. He smacked your ass, trying to get you to be quiet. Neither of you wanted to die in this moment. Although, this would be a good way to die.

He was eating your pussy like it was a 5 course meal. You gripped onto the motorcycle stabilizing yourself as you clenched against him. You were close. Daryl pulled away right as you were about to finish, and you let out a whine when you felt his tongue gone.

Daryl chuckled to himself thinking about something he wanted to do to you. All of a sudden, a stinging pain was sent throughout your hole. You whimpered in pain, but also pleasure. “Stop teasing… Please..” You begged him. All you needed was his cock inside of you.

He was getting impatient himself, so he ended the teasing. When he pulled down his boxers, his hard cock slapped against his stomach. He lined himself up with your entrance as you could feel the wetness of the precum on his tip. “Bad girls get punishments. And you slappin me? Tha made me real pissed off.” The anger and southern accent in his voice turned you on more.

Without warning, Daryl pushed into you completely. Immediately he started fucking you hard. “O-Oh fuck! S-shit!” You moaned out nonsense, loving how his thick cock felt inside your small pussy.

One hand wrapped around your waist as he pulled you up so your back was against his chest, the other grabbing your throat. He fucked you like there was no tomorrow. His grunting and quiet moans in your ear pushed you to the edge. As your orgasm took over, he fucked you harder and faster. You didn’t even think he could do that.

He moved his hand from your throat, to your mouth. He shoved a few fingers in your mouth to silence you as you reached your high. Daryl groaned once he felt all your cum covering his cock, but he didn’t slow down. Did he even plan on stopping anytime soon?

Your legs started shaking when you realized he was not stopping. You whimpered against the fingers you were sucking on, your body becoming so overstimulated. He was close, his thrusts stayed rough but his hips were stuttering against you as his orgasmed approached. Your whole body felt weak. “Mphm.. D-Daryl.. Too much..” You stopped sucking his fingers as you let him know you couldn't take it anymore.

”Don’ care. ‘M gonna fuck ya however long I want.” You whimpered at his words. He almost pulled out fully, leaving the tip in you. Then, he thrusted back in so hard you threw your head back and whimpered loudly. “FUCK!” You screamed out as he buried himself deep inside you, letting himself go. The warmness inside your pussy felt so good.

He pulled out, bending down to taste the mixture of the both of you. You moaned softly, letting out a quiet whimper when he pulled away. You let your body just lay against his motorcycle as you had no strength left in you to stand up. “I’ve been waiting for that..” You let out a small giggle as you confessed to him.

Daryl grabbed your ass as he pulled up your thong and pants for you. “Me too.” Redness covered over your face. You didn’t know he felt the same way. You were kinda surprised he was helping you get dressed since the two of you always bickered. He always seemed like a dick to you.

He pulled his pants up, shoving his limp cock back into his boxers. He tightened his belt as you stared at him, admiring the view in front of you. Darly’s eyes locked with yours and a small grin grew on his face. He grabbed your shirt he had thrown onto the ground and slipped it back over your head, placing a kiss on your forehead.

”Let’s go find somewhere to stay for tonight” You nodded in agreement as he put his bag back on, sitting down on the motorcycle. You threw your bag back on you, almost stumbling over as you stood up. He made your legs feel like jello. Thankfully though, he let you hold onto him for stability.

As you sat behind him, you wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your chin on his shoulder. “Daryl?” He hummed in response. “I-is this gonna be a one time thing? Am I gonna just be your sex slave?” What you really wanted was a relationship. Yeah, you were horny all the time but you also just wanted some love. “Do ya want it to be that way?” You sighed, hoping he didn’t want it to be that way. “No… I wanna be with you and to be able to love you and call you mine.” This made Daryl blush. He turned his head slightly towards your head. “‘M too. So how bout I make ya mine?’

You nodded against him with a wide smile on your face. You were definitely gonna thank Carol for making you go on this run when you return back to the prison. He started the motorcycle and drove off, searching for a safe place to stay for the night. This was the best run you’ve ever been on.

id appreciate feedback as this is only my second time writing smut. also i’d appreciate messaging me some requests! i wanna start writing more but my mind is so blank right now 😞

#twd fanfiction #twd smut #fanfic #rick grimes #smut #the walking dead #daryl dixon smut #twd #angry smut #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader

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hysteria-things · 1 year ago

Note

can you do a teacher!chris and a college student pleasee. (With smut. And if you want to!!)

PROFESSOR STURNIOLO

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!teacher!chris x student!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: this isn’t your first problem with this specific professor, but at this moment you’re fed up and want to put your foot down.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY SMUT, p in v, degradation, spanking, masturbation (female), making out, stomach bulge, overstimulation, dumbification, squirting, cream pie

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,535

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: we are locked in🫡

your professor dismissed class mere seconds ago, and everybody either has already left the lecture hall or is still packing up. “are you meeting us for lunch?” your friend says, zippering her bag and putting it on her shoulder.

you scoff, shaking your head. “can’t.” you say, ripping out the essay you wrote for this class that was due a few days ago. “professor sturniolo gave me an F on the essay.”

“again?” she questions genuinely shocked. “he’s got a bone to pick with you.”

this isn’t the first encounter like this you had with your professor. this class — your argument and persuasion class — is the only one you’re failing this semester.

not in your three years have you ever had this type of problem, and after many F’s, you’ve finally had enough.

“well, good luck.” your friend sighs, leaving the classroom with the remaining group.

now, that leaves you and him.

it would be a different story if you didn’t do the assignment right or didn’t try on the essay, but you’re one hell of a writer and you’re sure he knows it. you’ve always been good in school, ever since a young age.

normally you wouldn’t pick up fights with teachers, but your blood has been boiling for this dude for weeks.

“what’s your problem with me?” you say sternly, wiggling the paper in your hand as you step down to where he is.

he stops erasing the board and turns to you. “class is over, ms. l/n.”

yeah, no shit.

you roll your eyes. “so? i want to speak with you about my recent essay. you always give me F’s and never explain why. i would understand if it happened once before at the beginning of the year, but for every. single. one? it’s ridiculous.

he’s emotionless as he listens to your rambling, then he shrugs. “it wasn’t good enough.”

you crinkle the paper in your fist and slam it down on the desk in front of you. “wasn’t good enough my fucking ass, professor sturniolo. is it a favoritism thing? or are you fucking the other chicks in your class so they can have good grades? is that what i need to do? do i need to fuck you?”

the moment those words left your mouth, you knew that was a huge mistake.

you wouldn’t be surprised if he does, though. he’s not much older than you, and he is attractive.

he licks his lips, tilting his head toward himself. “bring it over.”

you gulp, feeling slightly intimidated. you uncrinkle the page and hand it to him, who is now sitting in the chair.

not even reading it, he stares at it and looks back up at you. “sorry. your paper didn’t meet the expectations.”

your pinch your lips together to keep you from screaming at him. “you didn’t even read it.” you shake your head. “i should’ve dropped this class when i had the chance. you’re cocky, and a waste of my time. i’m failing probably because your teaching sucks.”

as you start to storm out, he speaks up. “i’m going to have to clean that filthy mouth of yours.” he smirks. “teach you a much-deserved lesson, then afterward you can see if my teaching still sucks.”

you pause in your tracks, face turning beat red as you slowly turn back around. “w-what?”

he motions you to come over with his finger, and for some reason, you listen.

grabbing your wrist, he pulls you over his lap so you’re straddling him. again, you let it happen. you can’t help the wetness that starts to pool between your legs.

“you can admit it, you know,” he whispers, dragging his hand from your waistband to your mouth. he grazes his thumb over your bottom lip.

“a-admit what?” you stammer, shuffling in his lap which causes him to groan and hold your hips.

he chuckles. “deep down you want me to fuck you. i bet you touch yourself to the thought of me like a desperate little thing.”

you look away, face turning even redder than before if possible. “nuh-uh.”

“your face says otherwise.” his whisper shoots a chill up your spine as he starts to unbutton your shorts.

the way your fingers move quickly inside of you have your eyes shut with your mouth dangled open.

you were lucky enough to get a single dorm, so you can do whatever you want without being sneaky about it.

the way your legs are spread makes your fingers dig deeper, curling to hit the right spot. you grip onto your sheets tight, moans and other loud noises leaving your lips.

your previous orgasms make a mess below you or the back of your thighs, but you don’t stop. you’ve been at this for almost an hour because your mind is only focused on one thing.

your lecturer.

professor sturniolo.

“shit.” you pant, your orgasm building for the nth time. you let go of the sheets to massage your breast, pinching at your nipple from time to time.

you whine. “just like that.”

legs shaking, your fingers get coated with yet another orgasm, but you wish it wasn’t your fingers.

you wish it were his.

your shorts are now on the floor, along with your shirt, underwear, and bra. chris still has his clothes on except for his pants.

hovering just above his tip, your lips move in sync with each other. his tongue fights yours, and the erotic sounds of you two kissing fill your ears.

his hands rub along your back before spanking you hard, ruining the intimate moment. you pull away to gasp.

“sit,” he demands, mouth agape as he looks down to watch you try to sink onto his dick.

you grunt from the pleasurable pain, stopping just about midway. he’s probably the biggest you’ve ever seen. “it’s not gonna fit.” you whine.

“i’ll make it fit.”

with that, he grips onto your ass, hammering up into you without being able to adjust first.

you grab onto his shoulders for dear life. you moan uncontrollably, the feeling of him raw inside of you making you grin like a fool.

you’ve been wanting him to do this for a very long time.

“look at you.” he starts, smacking your ass to have you jolt. “having the professor you allegedly hate balls deep in you.”

“i-i do— ha-ate you.” you struggle to get out, a hand landing on your asscheek again.

“is that so?” he mocks, waiting for you to talk back but instead you moan even louder. he nods. “that’s what i thought.”

he bites his lip, looking at the way your tits bounce rapidly and at the bulge in your belly, eyes widening slightly. he’d never seen something like that before.

“i should keep you around more often after class.” he groans, seeing your face of pleasure.

eyes rolled back, mouth hung open, hair disheveled and sticking to your forehead from sweating.

“you make a pretty little cocksleeve.”

that sentence makes you clench around him, your body starting to quiver from the overwhelming feeling. “ngh— feels so go-od. y-you make me feel s-so good.” you whimper. “wanna cum!”

“not until you apologize.” he tuts, grabbing and then spanking your ass. “say you’re sorry, and i might let you cum.”

you whine, his cock now kissing your g-spot more than it did before. “i’m s-sorry.”

“for?”

“for— mm!” you squeal. “for being b-bad.”

“and?”

“and-and—” you can’t finish because of the sudden clear liquid squirting out of you, now making your pussy squelch more than it was before. your back arches even harder, your brain all dazed and dumb from the overstimulation.

you start to lose stability from being too weak, so chris has to hold you by your arms.

he groans, shaking his head at the terrible mess you are making. “come on. you can do it.”

tears spill from your eyes, sobs running past your lips. “a-and for t-talking back. fuck!”

his dick twitches inside, his thrusts getting sloppy. “i hope you’re on the pill because i’m going to fill you deep, baby.”

you can only make sounds, so a high-pitched moan echoes throughout. you’re seeing stars the closer your orgasm approaches before it finally snaps and you’re smearing the ring of white around his dick.

he doesn’t stop, causing your body to twitch in his grasp as another orgasm builds since he’s still fucking deep to your g-spot.

“close again?” he laughs fake. “scream for me. let people know how much of a slut you are; letting your teacher use you to get a better grade.”

your body slowly starts becoming limp, eyes fluttering closed as you moan.

he spanks you for the last time, not caring that his job is on the line.

“louder. they can’t hear you.”

screaming this time, you cum once again when he holds you down on his shaft. you collapse onto his chest, quiet sobs leaving your lips as you feel his cum start to fill you.

he peppers kisses on your shoulders, peeking over them to grab a pen and clicking it open. he scribbles over the previous grade on your essay to write a new one.

A+

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @r4iyaa @sturniolotriplettoplover @mattybswife @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @sturniol0s @catalina-island @mbsbaby @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopeno1

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #✎ ⤾ haleigh’s requests!

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itsasilentreader · 5 months ago

Text

♬⋆.˚ 𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜 — 𝐇𝐚𝐧 𝐉𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠

. ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁˖ . ܁. ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁˖ . ܁. ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁˖ . ܁. ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁˖ . ܁

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: bff!Jisung x fem!reader, friends to lovers

𝙂𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚: smut, fluff — 𝙈𝘿𝙉𝙄 ⚠︎

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 5.8K — 39 𝙢𝙞𝙣 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 (whoops)

𝙏𝙒/𝘾𝙒: smut, p in v, oral (fem receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (wrap if before you tap it), creampie, Jisung calling reader princess, pretty and baby a lot, bad grammar and spelling as English is not my first language.

𝘼/𝙉: While I normally don't write smut, I had this idea in my head for a while now. I cringed when I wrote this and actually got the ick when I reread my work so I'm just gonna upload it without editing it. This one is for the people who als struggle with what I depicted in this fic. Hopefully, this gives y’all the representation that’s been lacking a bit in the fanfic community. Last note: i’m not accepting requests regarding smut right now. Might do it in the future, might write some fics with smut or I might not. We’ll see.

⤷ 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘶𝘮. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘶𝘵.

⋮ 𝗠𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

. ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁˖ . ܁. ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁˖ . ܁. ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁˖ . ܁. ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁˖ . ܁

It was a typical Friday night. You were spending the night at your best friend’s house again, explaining a date gone wrong… again. Hey! It’s not your fault that those men can’t make a woman come or hold out longer than three minutes.

After your failed date on Thursday, you texted Jisung immediately after your date left your house. First, he responded, “Are you stupid?”, before explaining how dangerous it is to invite someone over after the first date, especially as a woman in these times.

I mean, he wasn’t wrong, but can you blame yourself? You just wanted to be satisfied by the hands - and other parts - of someone else for once. As much as your vibrators and other toys could please you, they didn’t always leave you satisfied.

And there lies your next problem: no matter how hard you try, you can’t come more than once per session. And you need time after a session, so for you to be busy for so long, it didn’t always give you the mind-blowing orgasms you’ve heard your girlfriends talk about.

It did make you feel a bit insecure, and you started to question if something was wrong with you.

How could it be that you always hear and read about other women having so many intense and mind-blowing orgasms, and you’re lucky if you even get one, one!

And now you’ve ended up on your best friend’s couch, sipping wine and gossiping about your bad date. And maybe you have bad taste in men in general. By now, this was a tradition for the two of you.

Almost every Friday evening, and sometimes night, was spent together. Most of the time, it was just the two of you, but sometimes some friends joined your wine night.

Decompressing after dates, good and bad, was something you’d always done with Jisung since you’d met.

You met Jisung in college. He walked into the classroom you were in, waiting for the lecture to start. Cute was the first thing that came to mind when you saw him with his messy hair and black glasses.

As the room didn’t have a lot of free seats left, Jisung decided to sit next to you. Smiling shyly, he introduced himself before getting his laptop out of his bag.

You introduced yourself as well, and that’s when the conversation slowly started. You learned that this was the first class he had without his other friends who followed the same course.

When the professor walked in and began his lesson, you heard Jisung curse under his breath. “Is everything okay?” You had asked, and concern was clearly shown on your face. He gulped before slowly closing his laptop.

“Eh, well—,” he started, his boba eyes looking at you. “This is not the professor I’m supposed to have for this class right now. So I’m thinking, just a wild guess, that I’m not in the right class.”

You clasped your hand over your mouth to stifle your giggles while shaking your head. “This is an intro to visual art and film,” you said as your giggles escaped. He let out a sigh and pursed his lips. “I’m supposed to be in the intro to musical arts…” Jisung trailed off as he tried to quietly pack his bag.

You watched him try to gather his things as quietly as he could before standing up. His whole body froze when he stood up, and the chair he sat in scraped against the floor like nails on a chalkboard.

The room fell silent as all eyes turned to the shy brunette boy with the black-framed glasses. From your seat, you saw a pink blush creeping up his neck and face.

“Is there a reason you’re interrupting my class?”, you heard your professor ask Jisung. He didn’t know what to do and remained frozen in his place.

Your hand covered your mouth again before giggling. Quickly, you whispered to him, “You need to walk out of the classroom now, or you need to sit down.” With his eyes locked on yours, he’d hung his head and sat back down, too embarrassed to move his legs and walk out of the room with all eyes on him.

Shaking your head with a smile, you turned your attention back to the professor. His eyes stayed on your neighbour for a few seconds longer before he continued his lesson. You’d decided to write little notes to Jisung in an attempt to get his mind off of the embarrassing position he was in earlier, and it worked.

During the lecture, you kept passing notes back and forth. Eventually, you wrote down your number, quite bashfully, with the words ‘in case you need a study buddy’.

Jisung took you up on that offer and your little study dates (though you wanted them to be real dates) turned into hang-out sessions, which turned into a beautiful friendship with your best friend.

Yes, you’ve wondered about Jisung. A lot. But you couldn’t blame yourself, he was gorgeous and one of the best people in your life. He was funny, and his personality lit up the whole room. He’d make you feel safe and loved, even if it was just platonic.

But, oh, how you wished it could be more. Hiding your feelings deep inside, locked away in your heart with the key thrown out, you’d continued to build this friendship with him. Having him in your life as your platonic best friend was better than not having him in your life at all.

That led you to this moment. Now, sitting on his couch, you tuck your feet under you. You take another sip — or rather, gulp — of your wine.

“I’m telling you, Ji, it was awful,” you let out as you took another sip. Setting your glass back down on the coffee table in front of you, you take out your phone to search for the message your date had left you.

“He finished in a few minutes and didn’t even bother to help me get off,” you said to Jisung. The latter one rolls his eyes at your statement before adding, “Men.” Giving him a knowing look, you continued.

“He luckily went home soon after, because I just couldn’t stand to be around him any longer,” you said again, frustration clear in your voice. You reach for your wine glass again and take another gulp.

“He messaged me later to say it wasn’t going to work out,” you add, rolling your eyes.

“I had a fun time, but I think it was just a one-time thing for us. We just weren’t vibing on the same level, and your sexual performance was not at the standard I am used to from my bed partners. I wish you all the best.”

At these words, Jisung’s eyebrows shoot up. “What?!” He exclaimed, almost spilling his wine out of surprise and, most of all, shock. “He actually said that?”

You nod vigorously before adding, “I know! As if it were my fault, he couldn’t get me off and lasted only a staggering four minutes.” At that, Jisung let out a snort before shaking his head.

“Maybe you just need to use some toys during sex; it does wonders,” Jisung speaks up after a minute. Your head snaps to his with a questioning look. “What? I do it often with my dates,” he shrugs at you before refilling his glass of wine and topping off yours as well.

“I mean, you don’t have to, of course, if you’re not comfortable with it. But in my personal experience, it feels really good.” Again, the questionable look is back on your face as you stare at him. Not trying to let your thoughts run wild about Jisung using sex toys on his partners or himself.

“Like, there is this magic wand, right? You know what that is, right?” He begins to ramble, you giggle softly and nod. Jisung continued, “Okay, so I know a lot of girls like to use that during masturbating, but also during sex. Maybe you should try that out.”

He wasn’t wrong. You have never tried it out during sex because either your partners didn’t want to try it with you, or you had a one-night stand, so you didn’t have your own toys at hand.

Maybe you should try it out sometime. Hopefully, your next bed partner will be open and willing to try with you.

“Okay, so since we’re already spilling the beans here, I mean, I’ve tried a magic wand on myself before,” Jisung spoke up, still sipping on his wine in between words, letting them sink into your mind. “Really?”

“Yeah, I bought one for myself after the first time trying it. Still use it sometimes,” his eyes back on yours, as if he was telling you the most normal thing in the world while your mind ran wild with the thoughts of Jisung pleasuring himself with a sex toy, as he gave you more information from these images in your head.

“Do you also feel it when you’re inside?” You couldn’t help but ask him, intrigued by the way he’s so casual about this. You feel yourself get a little bit aroused, thinking about using sex toys and your best friend telling you how you could use them.

He nods excitedly and says, “I do, I can’t speak for other men, but I love it. It’s a little bit of extra pleasure on top of the pleasure I’m already feeling.” You nod at his words, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as the images of Jisung kept popping up in your head.

“So yes, I definitely recommend that. Maybe it’ll work for you, though.” He is gulping his wine now as he finishes his train of thought about using a magic wand on yourself. Because even though you think he’s so casual about it, Jisung is actually losing his mind.

Yes, you two are best friends, but still. He feels vulnerable with the information he had laid bare, not that you would make fun of him for it. Of course, you wouldn’t do that, ever. But it was a piece of information about himself he’d rather keep to himself.

Why does he have to have a big mouth that speaks before he thinks?

You giggle at the antics of your friend before sipping on your wine again. A comfortable silence falls over the two of you, the Spotify playlist softly playing in the background. The silence makes you fall back into the train of thought you had before coming over to Jisung’s place.

Maybe it was you that was the problem. You can’t come during sex, and even if you masturbate, you often fail to come more than once. It shouldn’t be that hard to do. Even with a sex toy, right?

Maybe you were broken after all.

Just like your ex had said. And the one before him too. Maybe it was your fault that you couldn’t do something so… so natural? Maybe-

“Hey, where did you go?” You feel Jisung nudge you with his hand. His movement made you snap out of your thoughts. “It’s just-,” you started, looking down at the almost empty glass in your hands.

“Maybe it is me that is the problem y’know. Almost nobody has ever made me cum, let alone cum during sex. Maybe it is me,” you whispered out to Jisung.

The words he heard he could not quite believe, hearing you blame yourself. He wants to let you know it’s okay, and that it works differently for everyone else, as all bodies are different.

Perhaps it is a bit more difficult for you to get that relief after building up pleasure, but it seems like you need someone who would be happy to help you with this journey of discovery. Someone like Jisung.

Jisung would be more than willing to help you, his beautiful best friend. From the moment you’d met, he harboured a small crush on you. It might have started as a small crush, but it grew into so much more. Even though he has all these feelings, it seemed like a romance wasn’t in the cards for you two the last few years.

So like the gentleman and good friend he is, he’d bottled up his feelings and continued to love you as a best friend up close and love you as an admirer from afar.

“It’s valid what you’re feeling about how your body works, but don’t think something is wrong with you,” he reassures you, his voice soft. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was just the opening Jisung was waiting for. His words stumble out before his brain can catch on to what is happening.

“I can help you, y’know,” Jisung offers you, his words make you almost choke on the sip of wine you just took. Spluttering your wine out in a not-so-charming way, you try to come up with an answer.

“I’m serious, Y/N,” he continued, setting down his own glass. He subtly scoots closer to you, his hands carefully reaching out to yours. His mind is working in overdrive while his heartbeat speeds up. This newfound adrenaline pushes him to act on the feelings he’s been keeping in for too long.

“Jisung, do you hear yourself? Why— why would you—", you stutter out. Your eyes are finding his, questioning him. His boba eyes just stared back at you and shrugged.

“You’ve been complaining about how no guy can ever satisfy you for so long. I’m just saying, I can help you out.”

Bewildered, you keep staring at your friend, questioning his motives. “And you think you can help me? Really?” You question him out loud. He tuts at your response, shaking his head lightly.

“I’m not trying to stroke my own ego here, really, but most of my bed partners have expressed that I know how to make a girl cum, hard.”

Again, you have thought about it before. Quite a few times, actually, your best friend was gorgeous. Despite the fact that you might not want it because he is still your best friend, it occasionally happens just like that.

Often it was already too late to stop your thoughts and your best friend was starring in your fantasy what helped you come, if it would happen.

“Look, I don’t want to pressure you into something you don’t want to do. I just want to help you out. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you, Y/N. You’re a catch, and everyone is lucky if only you give some of your attention to them. I want to make you realise that you are much more than a hook-up or a few dates.”

His words hang in the air, heavy and charged, but with a hint of excitement. You couldn’t deny the tension that was built up with just a simple statement from Jisung.

I can help you.

He sees your eyes glaze over with lust and his pulse quickens. The words are still swirling through your mind, but your eyes already tell him everything he needs to know. Still, he wants to hear you say it out loud.

“Do you want that too, princess?”

The pet name was rolling off his tongue so easily, that it made the butterflies in your stomach go crazy. It also made you wonder what else he could do with his mouth.

Your head already spinning at the thought of what he could possibly do to you, you nod shyly. “Yes, please.”

Scooting closer to you, The side of his body pressed against yours. Your chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. His hand comes up to your face, holding it carefully while searching your eyes for any doubts or signs of distress. “Please, Ji,” you plead. “Please kiss me.”

The sound of your sultry voice asking — begging him — to kiss you went straight to his dick. Lust clouds his mind, and if he wasn’t out of his mind before, he certainly is now.

With his hand still holding your face tenderly, he pulls you in for a soaring kiss. Feeling his lips on yours makes you dizzy, and lustful.

Your hands wander from his neck to his chest, and you feel the muscles under his black shirt that you love so much on him. His hands start to wander, too. First, you feel his hands skim over your breasts, grabbing the flesh as if his life depended on it. His hands wander further down towards your sweatpants.

With his fingers toying with the waistband of your sweatpants, you feel him move past it. With his hand in your sweatpants, he cups your heat over your panties. You let out a gasp against his mouth, before kissing him deeper than before.

Lightly pressing a finger against your clothed core, your body immediately reacts to his featherlight touch. “So responsive,” he purrs against your mouth, before giving you another soaring, open-mouthed kiss that makes you feel butterflies.

“Jisung, please,” you pleaded with him. “I love it when you beg for me, even though I haven’t really done anything to you yet.” In response to his words, you let out another gasp as he finally pulled your panties aside and dipped his fingers between your folds.

“Hm, so wet already, pretty girl?” He teases you with his words, and with his fingertips.

“I haven’t done anything besides kissing you, and you’re already this wet?” He teases you further. You huff out in frustration and wiggle in his embrace. Your hips bucked up to his hands, just to feel his fingers inside of you, or something — anything.

Capturing your lips in another hot kiss, his fingers finally slip fully into your pussy. He immediately gets to work, and he watches as you let out an erotic gasp. The urge to have his way with you became stronger as he felt you clench around his fingers and your eyes roll back. You clung to him as he pumped his fingers in and out, your slick spreading and making obscene noises along with your moans.

You feel your arousal dripping down as Jisung keeps his fingers working you open. “Fuck, Ji,” you cry out in pleasure. As you hold onto him, your back arches from the couch. Jisung pulls your mouth to his again, swallowing all those pretty, erotic noises coming from you.

“I can’t wait to be inside you, pretty girl,” he says, nipping at your mouth, and down to your neck. It felt like your skin was on fire, everywhere his mouth touched it. Blissed out, you look at him with half-lidded eyes. If him fingering you on his couch feels this amazing already, you couldn’t wait for how it would feel if he finally buries himself in your pussy.

“I really want to use a toy on you and your pretty pussy, show you how it can feel. Make you cum with it.” His vulgar words went straight to your wet core. Taking your bottom lip into your mouth, you bit on it, hard. Nodding your head in response to his words.

Jisung occasionally slips out his fingers to rub your clit. The alternation of feeling his fingers stretch you open and putting pressure on your clit made you whine out in arousal. The pleasure keeps building in your lower belly.

Up, up, up...

But still, not enough to have you see stars and give you that orgasm you’ve been thinking about since Jisung started talking about using sex toys.

Jisung sensing your frustration, slows down the pace of his fingers but still gives enough pressure to feel the pleasure of it. “It’s okay, princess. I’m gonna get you there, don’t worry about it, pretty.”

He slips out his fingers, and the loss of contact makes you whine. His eyes remain on yours as he brings his fingers to his lips and sucks them in. His eyes close as he feels the intoxicating, sweet, and tangy taste of your arousal on his tongue. Watching him, you moan at the erotic scene in front of you.

Sliding his fingers out of his mouth with a ‘pop’, he pulls you onto his lap. His eyes were on yours, filled with lust, but also something else you couldn’t decipher yet. His hands wander up your body, and he pulls you to his mouth. His lips capture you in a sweet and heavy kiss, and you taste yourself on his tongue.

Making out with him, still aroused, you start to grind your hips down onto his. His hands quickly grab your hips to help you set the pace, as your already wet and sticky panties become even wetter than before.

With your hands gliding through his hair, you grip it as if your life depended on it. And maybe it does feel that way at that moment because being so close and intimate with Jisung makes you feel tingly all over. It felt like you were floating, and even the slightest friction between your heat and his groin let pleasure ripple through your body.

His hands travel to the hem of your shirt and tug it over your head. Letting him help you out of your shirt, he throws it somewhere in the living room, not caring where it landed at this moment.

He’d ridden himself off his shirt, too, as his mouth was back on yours again. As you try to tug at the waistband of his sweatpants, he parts from your mouth. Heavy breathing is heard, and he softly pushes you off of him.

Feeling the need to hold you and touch your skin, he did so as he stood up from the couch. With his eyes on yours, he pulls down his sweatpants, leaving him in his boxers, the last a layer restraining his cock.

The outline of his cock already has you drooling. Knowing he’s skilled with his fingers makes you very excited to find out what he could do with his cock. And you will find out soon enough.

Lunging forward again to kiss you and hold you, he’d let you back to his bedroom. His hands pull down your sweatpants as you clumsily step out of them, holding onto his muscular shoulders.

Reaching his bedroom, he pushes the door open. Not wasting time, he gets you onto his bed seconds after stepping into the room. Lustful eyes bore into yours as his fingers teasingly pulled your panties down.

Disregarding your panties over his shoulders, he stares in awe at your body. Spreading your legs with his hands, he looks at your body as if you hung the moon and the stars. Getting flustered, you try to hide yourself from him, even though you have nothing to be ashamed or flustered about.

“Don’t hide pretty,” his voice dripping with sweetness and his mouth watering at the sight of your bare pussy in front of him. “Just one taste,” he murmurs before kissing your clit. He sticks his tongue out and flattened it against your wet hole, rolling back his eyes in pleasure.

Seeing Jisung lose himself and feeling his wet muscle against your aching pussy, pleasure shudders through your body. Your hands are gripping his hair, making him groan against your core. The vibration of his groan, together with him licking up all your arousal and eating you out like a starved man, makes your toes curl and your head dizzy.

The familiar pleasure of your orgasm creeps up again, but it still feels so far out of reach. Jisung kept licking and slurping at your aching pussy, and the feeling intensified, but it never seemed to finally snap.

Bucking your hips out of frustration up to his face, almost riding it, Jisung lets you take the lead. Honestly, he was just happy to be here. With his face between your legs, get used by the prettiest girl who has his whole heart, even if you don’t know it, yet.

Seemingly getting more frustrated by the second, as the tension was fading away and the pressure of your orgasm seemed to lessen, Jisung gave you one more lick before parting. He needs to help you get to your high, and show you that you can do it. And he also couldn’t wait any longer to be inside of you.

Wiping his mouth, he speaks up, “On your knees princess, let me take care of you.” He nods his head to turn around. With heavy eyelids and a lust-filled body, you get up and turn around. Jisung quickly turns to his dresser to get the toy he wants to try on you — the magic wand.

Before you can get on your hands and knees, Jisung’s hands softly push you forward. Your elbows catch your upper body as you feel the mattress dip behind you.

You feel his hands run up and down your body, while he leaves hot kisses all over your spine. He grabs at everything he can, your soft skin feels heavenly in his hands.

Then Jisung grabs his cock at the base and slides it between your wet folds. With his thumb, he spreads out the wetness around the head of his cock, before pumping himself a few times.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, princess, make you see stars,” he says huskily, as he lines up his cock with your anticipating entrance.

As he eases his cock into you, a twinge of pain mixes with the overwhelming pleasure. With your eyes rolling back and your mouth agape, he begins to thrust his hips forward softly before bottoming out. “You good baby?”, he asks while his hands hold you softly. You nod and reply with a muffled hmm before Jisung picks up his pace and starts to pound into you.

The sound of skin slapping on skin mixed with your moans, and his groans fill up his room.

His hands roam over your body, from your ass to your shoulders. The touch of his fingertips makes you feel tingles and adds to the pleasure you already feel. You feel his hands push your shoulders down, so now you lay on the bed with your upper body. Your face is in his pillow, catching all your moans.

Pleasure shudders through your whole body as you feel Jisung filling you even deeper than before. His pace doesn’t falter once. With his hands back at your lower back, he pulls you back on his cock.

“Fuck,” he groans out. You turn your head so you can look over your shoulder, just enough to see Jisung throw his head back while biting his lip. His grip on your sides grows stronger as his thrusts become harder and harder. “You’re so fucking tight, princess.”

“Ji, please, please,” you moan out, your hands trying to grab anything they can to hold you steady. Twisting your upper body just enough so you could see him, you see him smirk. Leaning down to kiss his way up your shoulder blades, his right-hand grabs your hair. He pulls just hard enough to lift your head up from his pillow.

“I wanna hear those pretty moans when you come around my cock, princess,” he says, leaving another burning kiss on the back of your neck. “Turn your toy on and press it against your clit baby,” he says — or rather demanded.

Scrambling up on your elbows, his hips still meet yours with sharp thrusts. He doesn’t stop his brutal pace, instead, he keeps going. You gasp out at his thrusts, and you can barely grab the toy. Fiddling with it, you try to find the button to turn it on while pleasure is still soaring through your body.

Finally finding the button to turn it on, you press it and the toy comes to life. The vibrations are already making you feel jittery. You lean forward on his bed again, getting comfortable on your upper body. Your head to the side, while you took your lower lip between your teeth. With shaky hands, you carefully press the toy to your clit.

The feeling of the vibration mixed with Jisung’s cock filling you up just right made your eyes roll back, and your mouth hang open. Jisung never heard a more pornographic moan and couldn’t believe he was the one making you feel this way—with the help of the beloved magic wand.

It might be the alcohol, or maybe the love you’ve always felt for Jisung, but this is the best feeling you’ve ever felt. When he said he’d take care of you — he meant it.

His hands grip your ass as he keeps thrusting into you at a brutal pace. With furrowed eyebrows, you try to listen to your body. Yes, you feel immense pleasure from both being filled up and the vibrations on your clitoris, but you wonder if the feeling of your orgasm will build up anytime soon.

Jisung feels your body stiffen, just a tiny bit. But it was enough for him to notice you aren’t fully letting yourself go and enjoy the pleasure you feel. Slowing his pace down, it changed to sharper and deeper thrusts instead of just pounding.

“Let go, baby, just enjoy the feeling,” he gritted out. And you try, you let the bliss feeling overcome you. The dragging of his cock against your walls feels heavenly, as you focus on the vibrations the toy gave you.

Hearing his groans and feeling his soft hands gripping you so tight it might bruise the next day, you finally feel that familiar feeling building up.

“What do I need to do for you? Hm?” he huffs out, dragging your body back onto his cock. You moan out in satisfaction of the feeling. “How can I make my princess feel good, hm?” He grunts out, grabbing your hair at the back of your head and lifting your head again so he could bite and suck on your neck.

Your flushed face with your mouth hanging open, letting out little gasps of pleasure, imprints on his retina so that he will never forget this sight of you.

Jisung flooded all your senses. His touch, his mouth on your skin, and his hot breath in your ear grunt out your name over and over again, leaving you with goosebumps.

Grabbing the sheets with your free hand, so hard that your knuckles turned white, you moan out, “Just like that, baby.”

Rolling back your eyes and burying your face into his pillow, you feel yourself drool onto his pillowcase. The tension in your lower tummy is becoming stronger and stronger, and you feel your legs beginning to shake. “Jisung, oh god, please— right there.” Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt so close to the edge, and your orgasm was creeping up on you.

“Let go, pretty girl, come all over my cock. Make you feel so good.” keeping his brutal pace, your orgasm suddenly plummets through you. Shaking and mouth-agape, you moan out Jisung’s name like a mantra in a high-pitched moan.

The feeling of being so full with his cock and the vibrations of your toy intensified your orgasm, creating black spots in your vision.

You squeeze your eyes shut at the intense pleasure you feel throughout your whole body, as if ecstasy is running through your veins.

And all because Jisung suggested using a toy to stimulate your clit as he’d fuck you.

You feel like your prayers had been answered, and you finally had someone making you feel so fucking good, and that being Jisung made this experience even better.

Shit, you think. You might be in love with him.

Jisung fucks you through your intense orgasm. Feeling your walls convulse around his cock while he fucks you through your high, the vibrations bring him closer to his release, too. You’d let him use your body to chase after his own release, your walls clenching around his cock.

“Fuck, where do you want me to cum, baby?” He grits out as he keeps his pace. He had rather seen your beautiful face contort in pleasure when you were brought over the edge, but that would happen another time. After feeling you so tight around him, his body begged him for a release.

“Inside Ji, please come inside of me,” you slur out, still dazed from your orgasm. Fully relaxing your body, you feel Jisung thrust roughly into you a few times more, before groaning loudly in your ear. “Fuck-”, his chest rises and falls with heavy breaths as he comes down from his high.

You feel his hot mouth on your back again, leaving soft and gentle kisses while whispering how good you’ve been for him. He caresses your back as he softens and slips out of you. Falling on the mattress, he pulls you close to him, laying on your side. Draping your arm around his chest, you feel your erratic heartbeat calm down.

His release still dripping out of you between your legs, but he doesn’t care if his sheets get stained with it.

“How was that?” Jisung asks you as he presses a soft kiss on the top of your head. He is running his hands through your hair, and getting some of the lost, sticky strands of hair out of your face.

You let out a deep breath and look at him with sleepy, half-lidded eyes. “So good, so, so good, Ji.” At your words, a cocky smile appears on his lips. “I knew I could make you feel good pretty,” he answered as he gave you another kiss on your head.

“Thank you… For doing this,” you rest your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “Always, baby, for you always.”

“If you want to try more things, I’m your guy! But preferably, I would be the only one you’d try them with?” Jisung whispers out the last part, causing your heartbeat, which had just finally become a normal pace after this intense high, to speed up again out of anticipation.

“I’d like that idea, only with you. If you would do those things only with me,” you reply softly, as you gaze up at him. His eyes are staring back at you, full of warmth, and this time you can see the love he holds for you in his eyes as well.

Nodding excitingly, Jisung leans forward to capture your lips once again in a sweet but tender kiss. Pulling away, he lets go of you and climbs out of his bed. Whining at the loss of contact, you pout at him. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll get us cleaned up, and we can cuddle all night long.”

Snuggling back into his bed, you still need some time to process everything that had happened tonight. Who knew that ranting to your best friend about not being able to come during sex turned into the best sex of your life?

You finally feel satisfied. Not only did you finally come during sex, but you also finally have Jisung in more ways than you could ever imagine.

. ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁˖ . ܁. ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁˖ . ܁. ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁˖ . ܁. ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁˖ . ܁

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thevelvetvampyre · 9 months ago

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Mental Foreplay- Tom Buckley x Student Reader

Summary: Harbouring a supernatural secret, your professors assistant reveals he’s psychic as the sound of your filthy thoughts towards him pollute his subconscious and distract him from teaching as normally as a clairvoyant can.

Warnings: overall smut + adult content, p in v, oral (f receive), he watches u, he cums fast, mindreading, age gap (reader college aged, he’s like 40), choking, he tries his best to resist, INVOLUNTARY ERECTIONS which frustrate him🙏, he tries to stand on business + movie quotes

Note: stuck in hospital in the 3rd week of meningitis if I had a doc like crane this would be fun but there’s none worthy of sex dreams so this is boring af

🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩

Holding your head in your palm as you remained uninterested at your professor, Dr. Matheson, explaining some physics trick to hack the system of the psychic frauds she analysed, your eyes slipped to the assistant she had recently brought in to help with her lessons, Mr. Tom Buckley.

He’d usually catch your glance, seemingly to perfectly time when he looks at you in accordance to when you’d think of him or when you’d subconsciously moan, rubbing your thighs together to relieve the tension your imagination had pent up.

Practically on key, your eyes dropped from the boring speech to the man who sat just off center, catching his gaze as his lashes fluttered in embarrassment to being caught focusing on you.

Pulling his eyes away from yours, a grin grew on your face as he shifted uncomfortably, taking mental note of how attractive he looked when he was flustered.

At your thought, a deep blush creeped across his cheeks and his eyebrows cocked.

Unknown to you, Mr.Buckley had a psychic, mind reading secret that let him hear all the thoughts that ran through your head about him, ignoring them the best to his ability as his cock swelled at how filthy you secretly were.

From admiring the way his hair fell around the side of his face to imagining him fucking your dripping cunt over the other students papers on your professors desk, hearing your thoughts never failed to make him stiff and heave at the thought of giving you exactly what you wanted.

It was some kind of mental foreplay to him, rushing home after each lesson to furiously stroke himself while picturing what you’d look like gagging around the base of him, remembering your quiet moans that echoed through his head.

It had been a few weeks since he joined Dr.Matheson, strongly withholding his desire to fill your cunt as he remained distant of you.

A few weeks of teaching and torture, he’d curse himself each and every time his tip pulsed and leaked, angry and frustrated he felt so aroused by your arousal.

The feel of his hot blood filling his veins as he became thicker and harder with each passing thought made him tut and groan at how pathetic he was, cringing at how desperately he needed to, but couldn’t, touch you. He didn’t care for how you were half his age, but the morality of him being so needy for a students pussy made him feel guilty.

When he got the news that Dr.Matheson would take leave for whatever personal reason she needed to, his stomach knotted as he knew you would no longer be avoidable.

Taking the role of your teacher was threatening to him, now unable to hide his throbbing cock as he heard you salivate to the sight of him. As he was to stand in front of the whole room, he mentally prepared for his public display of arousal, tucking his already swollen tip under his belt to even slightly hide his growing erection.

Sitting behind the desk as he sighed, swinging his head back and rolling his eyes at how painfully hard he’s already gotten, he waited for the students to fill the room and felt his groin twitch in anticipation.

~~~~~~~

“The setting is important… keep it dark. Always.”

Mr.Buckley was pacing around the front of the room, lecturing how frauds scammed their customers into believing the supernatural.

His eyes scanned and passed you and as they did, a high pitched ringing filled his left ear, wincing at the pain and squeezing his eyes shut.

You held the tip of your pen in between your lips, nibbling at it slightly as you pictured him tearing you into two over your desk right then and there for the whole class to see.

Bringing his finger up and pressing it against his ear, he received the mental download of your thought and felt the warm blood flood his crotch.

Slowly opening his eyes again and taking a deep breath, the students looked at one another confused at his strange behaviour.

“The spirits demand it. You need to concentrate.”

His voice remained loud and sarcastic, he avoided looking at you once more, throbbing unbearably as he found it close to impossible to stand up.

Leaning against his desk to relieve the tightness of his tented pants, his skin prickled with arousal as he heard another one of your subconscious thoughts.

Wet, hot and leaking.

The ringing hit him at a higher pitch this time, physically cringing him as he rolled his chest slightly forward and groaning at the pain. Squeezing his eyes shut once more and feeling the air leave his lungs, the image of your salivating pussy to his voice ambushed his mind and sent him into a frenzy of desire.

After wincing for a couple of seconds, the class went silent and questioned what was wrong with him.

“Out! I need everyone out… now!” His voice was heated and he spoke louder than he ever has before, the sense of urgency causing the students to flock their seats quickly.

“Except you… I need you to stay.” He finally opened his eyes and pointed directly at you, some of the students looking at you with concern as they remained confused by his behaviour.

Feeling a heat prickle along your skin, your heart pounded in your chest as this was the first time he’d ever spoken directly to you, a wave of panic flooding over you as your mind raced with the reasoning he chose to keep you back.

As the students emptied the room, he stayed still on the edge of his desk and you slowly walked over, unsure of why he’d asked you to remain if he’s never acknowledged you before.

Staying silent, he pinched the top of his nose bridge and shut his eyes, sighing as he grew more annoyed at the mental images that flashed across his third eye, your reaction to being alone with him being nothing but sexually charged.

“Do you know how frustrating it is?”

His eyes remained shut and you furrowed your brows, confused and lost on what he was referring to.

“I’m sorry?”

Adjusting your bag, your palms began sweating in the midst of your nerves.

“Every. Single. Day. You sit there, doing nothing.”

His voice was low and stern, a blush creeping on your face as it was true, your lesson time was taken up with fantasies of the man instead of actual learning. Your notebook hasn’t even been touched since he’s stepped foot into the classroom. But how could he have known? He’s never spoken to you before.

“Not once have we spoken. Yet I know you so well.”

His voice remained agitated, your blush now vibrating your cheeks as you grew increasingly nervous. He opened his eyes and met yours, gazing over your face as his erection pulled on his crotch.

“I know what you think of me. Fuck…. I know your every thought.”

Your eyebrows knitted together as you clenched your jaw, embarrassment flooding your panties as you stood there dumbfounded at his confession.

“And I think you’re disgusting.”

Your eyes widened as you became humiliated, your mind raced with the possibilities of how he could’ve found out.

How did he know?

“Because I’m psychic.” The words purred off his lips and your stomach dropped.

Responding to your thought, you swayed anxiously as a million questions ran through your mind.

“How… how did you-“

Your voice was quiet, feeling vulnerable as he sat in front of you, horrifying you with his awareness of your thoughts about him.

“I told you how.”

Your head tilted, if anything you were fascinated with his words and questioned the trueness of them.

“But then… why do you teach-“

“To find more people like me.” He sighed out in defeat, staring into your eyes up close for the first time since he started teaching.

Only now did you realise just how gorgeous the man was, his cheekbones sharp and his eyes icy as they poured into yours.

Biting your bottom lip as you felt your walls clench at the sight of him, he rolled his head back and squeezed his eyes.

“S-stop.” He whimpered out, rubbing his head as his cock leaked into his pants.

Your eyes dropped and you noticed his dick print in his pants, widening them as the size of him made your mouth dry. He was thick and big, your heart fluttered as you couldn’t imagine fitting him into your tight walls.

Your cunt was dripping into the soft fabric you wore, sighing as you wanted nothing more than to have him fill any of your holes and use it to his desire.

Fuck… his cocks huge.

Snapping his head up and rapidly batting his eyelashes at you, hearing the way you complimented his throbbing erection, he stood up from the desk and latched both his hands into your hips.

Moving quickly and impatiently, he grunted as his fingers dug into your hips and pushed you quickly against his desk, your ass sat lightly on the wood as his forehead pressed into yours and he flared his nostrils, keeping his eyes shut as he held your sides in his hands.

Holding you close for a few moments, you felt his heavy breath on your chest and his cock press against your stomach. Exasperated and desperate to finally have you, his lust possessed him into needing you right then and there.

“Touch yourself. I-I need you to touch yourself.”

His voice was a whisper and it shook with his demand, leaving you smirking as you’d never seen him so malleable before.

Humming as you lifted up your skirt, you sat further onto the desk and placed your feet up, Mr.Buckley remained still as his eyes stuck onto your exposed panties. He groaned at the wet patch that pooled onto the fabric, relishing in how pretty you looked spread on the desk for him.

Spreading your knees and leaning back onto one hand as the other snaked down your torso onto your covered cunt, you smiled at the way his mouth fell slightly open and his eyes squinted at the sight of you.

Leaning over and placing his hands on either side of your legs, he gulped as he watched your small fingers draw delicate circles on your clit. His chest began heaving as your face scrunched in pleasure, quiet moans escaping your mouth as he admired the way you were so gentle with yourself.

“Let me see.” He growled, growing impatient and desperate to see your soaking pussy on display for him.

You pulled your panties to the side and exposed yourself and he whined at the sight, wincing as the cold air hit your wet slit.

Continuing to lean over your softly trembling body, he dropped a ball of spit from his mouth onto your mound and watched as it slowly dripped down you.

Using his saliva as lubricant, you began to rub faster circles on your needy nub as you felt your walls clench around nothing, the fast impending orgasm bringing you on the brink of seeing stars.

“Touch me.” You moaned out, your hips bucking at your fingers.

“I don’t… I can’t.” The guilt of watching a student, his student, like this was overwhelming. Yet he couldn’t help but feel his cock twitch in pain as he mentally begged to fuck you stupid over the desk.

“You don’t wanna feel my pussy?” You snapped your head up and looked at him through your hazed eyes, your pleasure leaving you drunk and needy for more.

He gulped as he slowly shook his head. Your eyes dropped to his erection and you sighed out through your grin.

“Then why are you so hard Mr.Buckley?” You moaned out his name and he shuddered, his lust slowly taking control of his mind.

“Why are you watching your student touch herself in front of your face?” His skin prickled with desperation and he could no longer withhold his desire, rolling his eyes as he took a deep breath before dropping to his knees.

Grunting animalistically, his arms latched around your thighs and pulled you closer to the edge of the table, close to his face so he could breath you in.

Immediately latching his lips onto your soaked slit, his tongue began to lap up and down your mound.

Throwing your head back in pleasure, his hot breath fanned over your aching hole as he pulled back to look up at you shaking as his touch.

“Stop fucking teasing me.” He growled. Sticking his tongue against you and sucking at you hungrily.

Your moans were growing louder as his tongue slipped into your hole, shoving his face deep into you and filling the room with squelching noises.

“Oh fuck!” Your back began to arch and your fingers intertwined with his hair, circling your hips as he ate at you skilfully and desperately.

You were on the edge of your orgasm, feeling him hum against you as you pulsed on his tongue.

His hot breath was short as his nose was stuck on your groin, ignoring the sense of urgency to take a breath as his determination to have you coat his mouth with your juices was his only priority.

Feeling yourself fall over the edge, the hot knot in your stomach unraveled as you felt liquid pour out of you and into his mouth, nose and chin. His tongue drew number eight’s on your clit as you shook beneath him, attacking the now swollen nub through your orgasm.

He held your thighs firmly in place, not letting you move away from what he was inflicting no matter how violently you shook as you came.

“That’s it… cum for your teacher.” His words were low and velvet smooth, intensifying how hard you came around him.

“Such a pretty girl.” He whispered, occasionally praising the way you squirted on him through your orgasm.

Feeling yourself calm back down as you winced on his tongue from sensitivity, his sloppy kisses turned into pecks on your slit as he pulled your pussy lips slightly apart. Staring at the shine from your cum, he furrowed his brows and whined at how perfect you looked.

Standing up and wobbling on his knees, his gaze panned to your face and you stared back at him in accomplishment. Mentally thanking him for the way his tongue had fucked you, he pulled a slight curl in the corner of his lips as his fingers fumbled to get his belt off.

Finally whipping it out of his waistband, his fingers impatiently zipped down and instantly gave his cock a release from his constraint.

Pressing down onto his erection and sighing at the pressure on your pussy, he pulled your cunt closer to the edge of the desk once more and pressed himself harder against your wet, tired mound.

“Fucking perfect.” His fingers fidgeted to your shirt, pulling it over your head and praising your tits.

He was grateful you didn’t wear a bra, instantly snatching your flesh into his hand and kneaded you desperately.

Rolling your head back and twitching your hips to create a small amount of movement on his clothed cock, he watched the way your mouth fell open as you mentally begged him for more.

I want you to fuck me so bad Mr.Buckley. Fill my tight cunt.

He groaned as he heard your thought, hooking his fingers under his waistband and pooled his underwear to his feet. His thick, veiny cock sprung out and hit your clit as it did, wincing as you remained sensitive from your orgasm.

Taking his leaking red tip and pulling it over your dripping slit, he groaned at how warm you were.

“Coating my cock so well…” He whined out in praise at how aroused you were. “Tell me how bad you want it.”

His fingers pulled up and wrapped along your neck, pressing into your sides harshly and causing you to choke on your air.

“So bad.” You could only moan, needing him desperately to fill you up and leave you dripping with his cum.

Continuing to lather himself in your liquid, he grunted and tightened his grasp on your neck, feeling unsatisfied with your plea.

“So bad! Please Mr.Buckley… I need your cock!” Your voice was trembling and a tear formed in your eye, practically heaving in need for him.

“Good girl.” He lined his tip up perfectly with your entrance and once again tightened his grasp on your neck, he snapped his hips forward and shoved all of him inside your tight hole at once.

Rolling his chest over your body beneath him as he growled at how well your tight walls took him in, you screamed at the intrusion as your hole had been breached and his tip slammed up against the back of your pussy.

“Oh fuck…” His mouth was near your ear, growling pathetically at how good you felt. “S-so- hm- tight.” His voice had raised and he wobbled to regain his balance.

Dragging his hips out teasingly slow and keeping his tip in, he would repeat this and slam into you repeatedly so you could warm you up to his size.

Your neck would surely be bruised tomorrow with the strength of his grip, seeing stars with each rough stroke and lack of oxygen you received. After the painfully slow thrusts he fucked to give you time to adjust, his head remained buried in the crook of your neck and a frustrated throaty groan left him. He began fucking you animalistically and violently, a string of incomprehensible curse words and praise leaving his lips as your walls suffocated his cock.

“Taking my cock so well honey.” He said breathlessly, using you hard and fast to chase his own high.

Fucking you deep as he was rough, you bounced off each thrust as your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your moans echoed off the walls, feeling his balls slap against your clit as you were pushed around harshly on his desk.

Shifting on the wood, your hole began to ache at how fast he was going, the slapping noises of your skin beginning to sting as he was treating you selfishly.

“Don’t move.” He growled at you, dropping his hand from your neck onto your hip, holding you still as you felt his cock flex inside of you.

Holding you pinned in position, he took advantage of how weak you were on his cock and started to whimper loudly as his thrusts sped up.

“Oh my god- I’m cumming, I’m cumming.” His voice was high pitched as his knees bucked, his thrusts growing inconsistent as you pulsated around him to drain him of all he has.

You felt a hot, white string of liquid squirt and coat the inside of your walls, moaning at the sensation of him emptying his balls into you.

Attempting to continue to fuck you through his orgasm, the sensation was overwhelming as his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth fell open, the look making you think he was about to cry or was in pain as he trembled.

He panted and whined through each stroke, the sound of him so weak was enough to send you over the edge again.

Slowing down the rate and harshness of each thrust, he heaved out whines as his orgasm blurred his mind and emptied out his lungs of air.

Slowly pulling out his softening cock as it fell slightly limp out of you, he continued to breath heavily as he let go of your hip and placed his hands on either side of you again.

Looking up into your face, you admired how gorgeous he looked. Admiring how his hair had messed, his lips had swelled and an arrogant red had spread on his cheeks. Your walls rhythmically pulsated at how flushed he looked and his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

“Stop… you’ll get me hard again.”

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian smut #smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x y/n #red lights #tom buckley #Tom Buckley smut #Tom Buckley x reader #red lights movie #oppenheimer #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy drabble #cillian murphy x fem!reader

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spacegyaru · 1 month ago

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cw: shidou ryusei x afab! reader. all characters are aged 21+. a little bit of dark content so minors, dni! college setting AU. sexual themes ahead— reader is nerdy and a good girl type. stoner!shidou so there’s w33d involved, mentions of virginity loss, creampie, unprotected sex, p in v penetration, shidou being a pushy and would pressure reader. mentions of having a dysfunctional family. also, i made a family backstory for shidou here since we still dunno much about him! and come on guys, having shidou in a fic is already a warning itself. i feel like i didn't put enough warnings so proceed with caution— ALSO I WAS WRITING THIS WHILE LISTENING TO ROMEO AND CINDERELLA SO IT'S KINDA BASED ON IT

word count: 1.3k+

imagine being a girl with an overly religious family, but you ended up falling in love with the boy next door with a bad reputation, ryusei shidou.

you were a sheltered girl who's well-loved by your strict parents. well honestly, not really well-loved— but when we say that, it means that they love to take control of everything you do. you were enrolled in an all-girls catholic school, attended sunday schools, and went to weekend piano lessons.

in reality, you felt like they really didn't care that much about you. your father is a pastor who also worked as a professor, while your mother is a retired actress.

they mostly cared about their church's reputation. they didn't seem to love each other either. you remember your mom being drunk one night, telling you how she hates your father and if you weren't born, she would still be a hot actress. you cried after that. your father never even consoled you, and your mom did not apologize. you were always on your own.

dinners with your family were always empty. only utensils could be heard and no one tries to talk to each other.

when you were in high school, someone from your church moved in the house next to yours. it was the shidou family. you've always heard and seen them around the church but you never got too close. all their children attended the service— well, except for one. and it's funny how you just got to know him recently.

you met him, ryusei shidou, while you were giving some freshly baked cupcakes to your newly-found neighbor. you were flustered when he greeted you shirtless, only wearing his boxer shorts. you couldn't look at him in the eye. so instead of saying anything, you bowed, used your two hands to give the cupcakes, saying goodbye, and immediately running to your home.

you've always thought that the neighbors beside you were normal people — that was until you heard someone yelling, almost like a lion's roar, in the middle of the evening. you were already in your first year college that time when it happened.

you heard it while washing the dishes— the father of the shidou household was angry at ryusei because he was caught smoking w33d in the campus dorms. but their son, ryusei, seemed to be eccentric. it's almost as if he didn't care that much about it.

you got the chance to talk to him while taking some fresh laundry out of the yard. you waved at him and he just raised an eyebrow at you… and he continued to smoke whatever he's smoking.

“hi…” you timidly said before sitting beside him. but he just ignored you. so you asked him if he was okay. he just raised a brow at you and tried giving you the joint as if he's asking you to smoke with him.

you shook your head to refuse the offer, but he continued offering it to you, until you ended up saying yes.

you hated the bitter aftertaste from the w33d, but still smoked it because it seemed to have made him livelier and more friendly towards you.

“the pastor's daughter isn't a good girl after all…” he says something like that before he kissed you on the lips and bid his farewell. meanwhile, you were left dumbfounded.

you thought that your crazy interaction with him ended there— until you saw him on your window, trying to climb your room. you almost screamed when you see his face by the window.

“yo~” shidou greeted before you helped him from the tree branch he was climbing, letting him inside your room.

luckily, your parents were out for some business trip when ryusei gave you the joint. the smell of w33d spread throughout yout room as you smoked along with him.

it turns out that his parents were like your parents, religious. but here he is, trying to break the cycle by doing whatever he wants. he says that if he wasn't famous for soccer or didn't have an athlete scholarship, his parents would've dropped him and kicked him out.

somehow, the short smoking session turned into a hot making-out session when he asked you to sit on his lap so he could teach you a smoking trick. naive as you are, you did as he told. now, here he is, inserting his tongue in between your lips and cupping your ass while he did so.

after that, you brought up the fact that you started to feel something poking in between your thighs. then he just smirked and grinded more before telling you something like, “really?”

shidou ended up letting you see his cock up close. it was your first time seeing a dick in person. surely, you’ve seen it on porn before because you got curious at some point. but this was different. you couldn’t stop staring at it. it wasn’t exactly the lengthiest, but it was thick. it looks fucking fat.

at first, you tried touching it. but it ended up becoming more than that… you soon found yourself sucking his cock, brushing the tip of your tongue on top while trying to make it hit the back of your throat. his hands entangled around your hair with his head thrown back. you were shocked when something hot and salty suddenly burst inside your mouth. it seemed that he came inside. he asked you to open your mouth and show him how you swallow it. you did just what he told.

it felt even better when shidou decided to return the favor. at this point, you were no longer in your pyjamas and underwear. you were wearing only an old white baggy shirt with your pussy all laid-out for him. his tongue, combined with his fingers, felt so fantastic and you ended up orgasming over his mouth.

at that point, you thought it would be the end… until he started pressing the tip of his cock on your clit, rubbing it a little bit, with his precum coming out of the hole.

“shidou, i-isn’t this for people who only love each other?” you asked him with your eyes widened, but he whispered something like, “come on. let’s do it.” then he promised to make you his girlfriend after you do it. that’s how he ‘loves’ you.

so you agreed. you agreed to let his cock inside your pussy. at first, it was just the tip. and you started gasping from the pain, and letting out a loud moan. shidou had to cover your mouth as he slowly thrust deeper, even kissing you with an open mouth to try making you a bit more quiet.

you were holding his arms and his body closer as his thrusts got more intense. you ended up moaning his name, leaving scratches on his back, while he lifted one of your legs around his shoulders, trying to feel you at a deeper level.

the sensation felt ecstatic. you felt like you were floating in cloud 9 while his balls slapped your clit and he was kissing your neck.

you ended up squirting on his cock and he ended up cumming inside your pussy. after that, shidou pulled out, watching his cum ooze out from your hole. as shidou was panting, a confident smirk appeared on his lips.

the following day, you woke up. your legs felt sore. your neck and chest were filled with hickeys. but the person who caused them was gone. the only thing that’s left as evidence is the bottle of booze both of you binged while smoking.

you tried to look for him after that, but to no avail, you never saw him again. you tried to ask his family, but they only talked about him going abroad to continue his studies as he received a better football scholarship there. his parents decided upon this due to his issues in his current university. perhaps, going abroad would change him and make him more responsible. you attempted to fish out for more information, but you found out you were also blocked on his social media.

you thought it couldn’t get any worse… until a few more weeks later, you found yourself staring at a white stick with two lines staring back at you. your eyes felt teary and you felt as if you were punched in the gut.

HAGHDHJASBHA SHOULD I CONTINUE THIS? THIS WASNT PROOFREAD BTW AND I WROTE THIS AS SOON AS I GOT OFF WORK

EDITED : READ FOR PART 2

#bllk smut #bllk x reader #bllk x you #blue lock x reader #bllk headcanons #blue lock smut #★ bllk #💗★ vivi's tots #shidou ryusei #shidou ryusei x reader #shidou x reader #shidou x you #shidou ryusei x you #blue lock imagines

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ramp-it-up · 30 days ago

Text

Peach V

Peach IV | Peach VI

Summary: Steven Grant Rogers is a mob boss trying to get clean. Maybe it’s because he’s in love. With you. He's got you on his turf in NYC. Are you finally willing to admit that you want to be with him?

Pairing: Art Dealer/Philanthopist (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)

A/N: I love these two like I can’t explain. The slow burn speeds up a lil bit in this. There’s some action. 🥹 This fic is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and DIRECTLY AFTER the events in the Steve Rogers fic Peach IV. Your interaction keeps me writing, so let me know if you like it by commenting and reblogging.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. Angst. Slow burn, EXTREME Mutual pining, idiots in love, lusting, dancing lessons, use of the words ‘mad’ and ‘crazy,’ Bucky is a jerk, boy do you get jealous. Kissing and heavy petting in the form of oral sex, female receiving. Lil bit of Dom Steve if you squint. Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

------

“Welcome to SOB’s.”

You were one of the first awardees up to present to the group. Each recipient picked a NYC area artistic landmark to research and lead the others on a tour, discussing the significance to the art form for which they received funding.

As always, you were going outside of the box.

You looked around and concentrated on not staring at Steve. He looked so fine, foregoing his tailored sport coats this evening for a black pullover pushed up on his hairy, corded forearms.

Dark jeans clung to his thighs and black boots encased his huge feet. What he was wearing highlighted every physical attribute that made you weak. He was quite the distraction, but you were a professional.

You smiled at your cousin and Bucky, who were beaming at you, and began.

“Sounds of Brazil isn’t just a club—it’s a melting pot of culture, rhythm, and history that’s been bringing global sounds to the city since 1982.”

You moved around the relatively small dark space, but then a screen came down on the stage and a slide show of performances danced across it, with accompanying music flowing from the speakers.

“SOB’s started as a space to showcase Brazilian, Latin, Caribbean, and African music, and quickly became a go-to spot for hip-hop, R&B, and reggae too. The Afro-Caribbean Queen herself, Ms. Celia Cruz, as well as Marc Anthony, J Cole, HER and Mac Miller (rest his soul) have all rocked this stage.”

You were silent for a moment and then continued.

“This place is more than music; it’s about community, culture, and the celebration of diverse sounds. For me, dance is life. And it’s music such as what was fostered here that inspires me. It’s places like this that give life to the creativity of my art and my soul.”

“The vibe here is immaculate. It’s intimate, electric, and always unpredictable. Just imagine the countless artists who’ve poured their souls into performances right on this stage.This isn’t just a club, it’s a meld of culture, rhythm, and history that’s been bringing global sounds to the city since 1982.”

The video and music turned to Celia Cruz’s “Toro Mata” and three beautiful women, who looked like showgirls, came from backstage.

“In February, Salsa Groove starts at SOB’s with free salsa lessons, happy hour, and many other fun things. These ladies are here to give us a preview, so find a partner and let’s dance!”

Sharon moved toward Steve, but Sam grabbed her and she plastered on a fake smile. You smiled over at your cousin who was currently in the process of being caught up in the arms of James Buchanan Barnes.

Activity swirled around you as the dance instructors organized groups to teach, but you and Steve were left in the center of the dance floor.

You smiled at him.

“Looks like I get to teach you Mr. Rogers.”

“Lucky me. Hope your feet survive.”

His sexy chuckle did you in as you slid into his arms. You placed your arms in the right position, but shifted to help him adjust.

“Relax your shoulders,” you murmured, stepping closer and running your hand along his broad trapezius muscles.

Your voice was warm and laced with patience as you looked into his eyes.

“Salsa isn’t just about the steps. It’s about how you feel the music.”

“I feel it,” replied Steve, swallowing as he watched your hips move effortlessly with the rhythm. You made it look easy, natural and beautiful. He, on the other hand, felt a little bit out of sync, out of breath, and out of his depth.

You took his hand, lacing your fingers through his, your palms pressing together and conducting electricity.

“Start with the basics,” you whispered, guiding him.

“One, two, three: back. Five, six, seven: forward.”

Steve looked down to catch the rhythm and you pulled his arm around you tighter, causing you two to meld even closer together.

“Don’t overthink it. Just listen to me.”

Steve nodded and looked into the kaleidoscope depths of your eyes.

And he listened.

He listened to the way your breath hitched as his hand slid to your waist.

And he noticed.

He noticed the way your eyes flickered to his lips when you moved together in sync, your bodies sinfully connected.

“That’s it,” you said, your voice lower now, “Now, feel me.”

You guided his hand to your lower back, and his fingers instinctively pulled you more firmly against him. This power from him made you high along with the way your body fit against his.

You moved in perfect harmony.

“Better,” you murmured as you watched his mouth again.

Steve was found himself smiling, his steps more fluid now, as if he’d been dancing with you forever. His confidence grew with each turn, each time your bodies came in contact.

And when you finally spun into him, your palm resting against his chest, your breaths mingling in the space between you, he knew this wasn’t just a dance.

It was his chance.

Steve was about to lean in to kiss you when a slow clap began, started by Sharon.

You both looked around, surprised there was anyone else there. The music had stopped.

“Great job, Mr. Rogers. You made that look convincing.”

Sharon’s voice grated on your nerves but you had to laugh at your cousin giving her the gas face. You just rolled your eyes. Not even she could bring you down at the moment.

“SOB’s opened early just for us, we have another hour to dance and have fun. I’d love to talk more if you all are inspired. Have fun!”

Steve stood back and admired you, his creative queen, as the others swarmed around you.

—-

The way you moved made Steve Rogers feverish.

The sway of your hips hypnotized him and he had to concentrate very much to appear unbothered. The smell of you made his cock thicken and gotdamn, when you laughed his stomach did flips.

He’d pay a million dollars to the first person who convinced you to kiss him.

He’d pay you ten million for each kiss you’d give him willingly.

Steve was down bad.

The nail in his coffin was your creativity and bravery; the way you shared your opinions on your art and everything else made him mad with desire.

He now fully understood Bucky’s insistence to get fully clean. Steve was glad they were so close to the finish line and was willing to beat Bucky there.

Steve was determined to be the good man you once thought he was.

—---

Over the next couple of days, your heart raced each time you watched Steve across whatever rooms you were in. His six foot plus form dominated every space and his natural affinity for art was so fucking appealing.

You finally admitted to yourself that you were feeling him, although the issue of whether you could trust him would not die. But when he looked at you with those baby blues, you got weak. There was definitely a connection and a chemistry that you couldn’t resist for much longer.

You couldn’t deny it any more.

But that didn’t stop you from trying.

—--

Sharon would not stop talking. You were unfortunate enough to sit near her on the Sprinter as it took you back to the hotel for the mid-day break on Wednesday. She was going on about her meeting with Steve to Lily from Montana.

Each recipient had meetings scheduled with Sam, Steve, Bucky and Natasha, another requirement of the week. Frequently, the meetings included a meal. It must have been a dizzying pace for them, but you’d really enjoyed your coffee with Sam and lunch with Natasha. They were cool people.

And of course your dinner with Bucky was amazing. You couldn’t wait for him to be your cousin, although he remained coy about proposing no matter how much you pressed him about the holiday trip.

“I mean my meeting with Steve was convenient this morning. He was right there and we were already in our comfortable clothing… the breakfast place was perfect…”

Your ears perked up at that.

“I just woke up so sore this morning. It’s all Steve’s fault…and then he had the nerve to do it again…”

Your mind filled in the gaps and your blood started to boil.

This must be why he hadn’t been around that morning. He was recovering from fucking with Sharon. Rational thought was out the window and you couldn’t see anything but red.

Instead of going up to your room to rest, you walked the four blocks to the Rebirth building.

Your spine was straight and your chin was up as you entered the gallery, passed Natasha and headed to Steve’s office. He came to stand at the door as you approached, obviously warned that you were coming. He was in shirtsleeves, his black button-down clinging to his muscular frame, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms.

You blinked because he looked dangerously, devastatingly handsome in a way that was almost too much to look at directly. His mesmerizing blue eyes locked with yours, and the rest of the world disappeared. For a moment, you were frozen, ready to fuck him or spring into battle.

Just then, Bucky Barnes bounded out of a door near Steve’s, looking like a black lab, and headed in the same direction you were.

“Yo, Steve. I think that we should… oh shit! Peach!”

You couldn’t help but smile at Bucky, who looked cute in a black pullover with his curly hair tousled. Over Thanksgiving weekend, you’d grown to like him a lot.

Bucky Barnes obviously loved his friends. He also was a good guy, despite his line of work. The way he loved your cousin had earned your respect.

You smiled and held your hand out for him to shake.

“Hullo Bunny… eep!”

He pulled you toward him, drawing you into a hug and twirling you out into a salsa spin, causing you to laugh.

“It’s Bucky, Mr. Barnes if you’re nasty!”

You were shaking with laughter.

“Oh gawd! Does my cousin know that you are so corny?”

Bucky had mellowed your harsh.

Momentarily.

“It’s part of why she keeps coming back, Peach.”

Bucky winked at you and instantly you understood the appeal. You grinned up at Bucky, lightly slapping him on the arm as he laughed at you.

Someone cleared their throat and Bucky smirked over at Steve. Then, he caught the drift.

“I can see that you have important business to attend to with this Punk. Catch you later.”

Suddenly you didn’t want to have this conversation, because the way Steve was looking at you was too intense. You didn’t move. You felt Bucky’s warm hands on your shoulders and you were compelled to move forward.

“Onward. Into the fray.”

You glared over your shoulder at Bucky and then looked back at Steve.

“Mr. Rogers.”

Steve’s jaw clenched and he greeted you in kind.

“Ms. Y/LN. Is there something I can help you with?”

He walked into his office and you followed him, making sure to leave the door open. Steve's gaze slowly dragged down your body and back up again until it settled on your mouth. You felt that look like a physical touch, making your clothes feel irrelevant. You took a deep breath to keep from shedding them right there.

“Yes, Mr. Rogers. I need you to be honest with me.”

Normally, that was a throwaway comment, but Steve knew how important him being honest was to you, so he nodded, cleared his throat and said, “Of course,” while looking you in those beautiful eyes.

“Did you fuck Sharon Carter last night?”

Steve’s eyes widened in shock. He blinked a few times to digest your question. Then he answered it. Blood rushed in his head.

I’m gonna kill the mutherfucker that said that, he thought. But he was calm when he replied.

“No. I was very much alone last night.”

Missing you, he thought.

“Did you fuck her this morning?”

Steve put his file down on his desk and leaned back on it, crossing his arms.

“Absolutely not. She showed up at my gym, for the second day in a row. I helped her with some technique and then had our meeting in a coffee shop. Who is spreading this rumor that’s got you so worked up?”

He would find the fucking liar and strangle them to death.

“That bitch is going around insinuating to everyone…”

Then you realized what was going on. You closed your mouth. Sharon.

That bitch. Why were you letting some hoe rag get to you?

“Never mind. You’re absolutely right. I don’t care.”

You raised your chin like the regal queen you were and Steve wanted to fall at your feet.

“Well for your information, I’m not interested in Sharon Carter. As a matter of fact…”

All I want is you.

Steve looked you in your eyes. God, you were so beautiful.

“I’m taken.”

Your breath caught in your throat and a feeling in between panic and jealousy furled in your stomach at those words. As he looked at you, understanding dawned about what he meant.

This conversation was not going the way you intended it to.

Your eyes moved to avoid Steve’s and it was then you noticed Bucky leaning on Steve’s door frame and snacking while he watched you two.

“Popcorn? Really Bucky???”

Bucky extended the bag to you.

“‘SmartPop. Want some?”

Steve went over and closed the door in Bucky’s face and then turned back to you. You noticed how his bicep bulged when he ran his hand through his hair and your nipples tightened into stiff peaks.

“Sorry to that woman.”

You played dumb, hoping he wouldn’t press the issue. But Steve clocked you. He shook his head and chuckled.

You crossed your arms and jutted your hip out.

“What?...What, Steven!?”

You were the most adorable human he’d ever seen.

“Nothing.”

You turned around to leave and then whirled around again.

“And another thing!”

Steve was smirking now.

“You upgraded me on the airline and at the hotel. Didn’t you? And you gave me more endowment than anyone else. You’re just trying to get in my pants again.”

Steve sighed.

“Okay, so first I fucked Sharon, now I’m trying to get in your pants. You’re going from one extreme to another.”

“Tell me I’m wrong!”

Steve clenched his jaw, but his voice remained even. He really wanted to grab you and spread you over his desk and give you his cock until you calmed down. But baby steps.

He stepped to you and you looking up at him was his Roman Empire.

“You. Are. Wrong.”

His glare was blue ice and you felt just a little bit afraid.

And a lot turned on.

“Do you realize that your cousin helped us out with travel and accommodations?”

You opened your mouth and then closed it.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“And you didn’t get more than anyone else. Russ received $250,000. Awards were scaled according to the project.”

“Ah.”

“And I don’t just want to get in your pants. I want so much more.”

You stood there dumbfounded.

“W-what are you talking about?”

Steve gave you a rueful smile.

“Stop pretending you don’t know. Peach, I–”

You raised your hand to signal stop.

“Ain't nobody got time for this.”

He gazed at you with a sparkle in his eye and licked those red, red lips. But he put his hands up and backed away, still smiling.

“Also. Stop doing that!”

You waved your hand in the direction of this face. You needed him to stop looking at you like that.

He was trying to hold himself back. Your lunacy had him hard. And you not letting him tell you how he felt made him want to make you beg for him. He shook his head to clear his lust.

“Just what am I doing to you, Ms. YLN?”

That voice again. Your eyes shuttered and your pussy pulsed at the answer to that question, but you were determined to get him told.

“Sparkling those eyes down at me like that!”

“Sparkling my eyes…?”

Steve feigned annoyance, but he was enjoying the fuck out of this.

“What does that even mean?”

“You know exactly what it means! Looking at me like.. Like.. like you…Just. Stop.”

He stopped smiling.

“As you wish.”

Steve’s eyes roamed over your face, pausing to look at your lips. Then, he looked back up into your eyes and the sparkle was gone. It was replaced by a warm blue fire that for some reason caused you to shiver. You wanted to fall into it and his arms, but you shook yourself out of it.

“Nope. Don’t do that either.”

Steve huffed as the corner of his mouth hooked upward into a sexy side grin. Your panties couldn’t take it.

“Do wh–? Umph. Ummhmmhhmm!”

You put your hand over Steve’s mouth to stop him from assaulting you with his voice but he kept vocalizing. You realized that Steve’s hand was on your waist and was pulling you closer to him.

Your breasts were pressed up against his rock hard torso and your hand was on his chest. Lord help you, all you needed to do was remove your hand. You stared into those blue depths for half a second and then moved back.

Steve licked his lips when your hand was gone and your body buzzed as he contemplated pulling you back into his arms.

When that look came into his eyes, you gave up.

“Ugh. Never mind. I’ve got to go.”

You straightened your spine again, turned on your heel and marched toward the door.

Steve followed you. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw that Bucky was pumping his fist as you made to leave the building. You thought about giving him a piece of your mind, but you had to get out of there; Steve was close behind.

“Peach. Stop running. Calm down.”

You stopped and whirled on him, poking your finger in his chest.

“NEVER tell a mad woman to calm down, Rogers.”

He smiled down at you and your world spun out.

“So you admit that you’re crazy?”

“Fuck you!”

You turned and walked toward your hotel at a steady pace but Steve was right behind you. He followed you back to your hotel lobby and was right there when you pressed the elevator button.

“What do you want, Steve?”

You sideyed him as you looked up at the floor indicator panel.

“You.”

You whipped your head around as the elevator doors opened. Your heart was beating so fast you were sure he could hear it. But then you just wordlessly walked into the elevator as Steve followed closely.

“You feel this thing between us, Peach. I’m not alone in this. I know I’m not.”

He moved close to you as the elevator doors closed, placing one arm on the wall near your head and the other on the railing beside you. You were enveloped in him. But when you looked up at him. Jesus.

“You wish. You think you’re god’s gift to women, Rogers?”

Your whisper was fervent.Your heart was beating out of your chest and your cunt was soaking wet. The electricity was arcing between you in the small space. You felt it in the small of your back.

“Judging by the way you look at me, Peach. I’d say you wish, too.”

You shifted, trying to rub your legs together on the low. There was an ache you needed extinguished.

“Boy, please...”

You were still trying to fight it as Steve moved close, his lips a breath from your ear.

“Not all women. Just you. And you don’t need to beg. Just ask for what you want, Peach.”

He pulled back and you almost chased him, but bit your lip and tried to remain calm.

“I don’t want anything from you, Steven.”

“Now, you’re the liar.” Steve intoned, his jaw working tightly.

When the elevator door opened, you ran out, moving quickly down the hallway to your room. You stood in front of your door and stared at Steve, not opening the door and not speaking.

He looked down the hallway and spoke, anger laced in his tone.

“Open the fucking door and get your sweet ass in that room, Peach.”

You tried to stare him down, but he was determined. And something in those blue eyes made you want to comply.

“I’m not going to repeat myself.”

Your hands shook as you opened your door with Steve breathing down your neck, reminiscent of that night in Atlanta.

Once the door was closed, he stalked toward you, tipping up your chin to meet his intense gaze. His thumb brushed your bottom lip and you suppressed a shudder.

No one had ever made you feel this way with just a touch.

“What do you want from me?”

Your voice was barely a whisper.

Steve leaned in close to reply, his breath fanning your face.

“Stop fucking running from me. I apologize for all the things I’ve done. But now I’m underwater and I’m drowning in my feelings for you.”

Your resistance were just bare thread now. And the last ones frayed into nothing at his proximity.

“Prove it,” you said as you met his gaze.

Steve’s eyes glinted with something you couldn’t read, and his hand moved to your waist.

“Careful now, Peach,” he murmured and bent his head, still not quite kissing you, but driving you crazy.

“You don’t scare me,” you whispered.

“No?”

His hand was on your back now, moving you impossibly closer.

“I think that I do. I think the feelings you have for me terrify you.”

His lush lips crashed down on yours, and you were completely lost to the way he devoured you, all heat and hunger and lust. Your tongues tangled and danced, and you moaned into his mouth.

Steve broke away to nip down your jaw.

“Taste so fucking sweet, Peach. ‘S all I could think about this past month.”

His hands slid down your body to palm your ass, pulling you close and making you feel how hard he was for you. Damn he was big. He was right, you’d probably struggle to take him, but god you wanted to try right now.

Slowly, Steve lowered his head again, watching you intently as his lips capture yours. The kiss started off slow and delicious, then it deepened, growing more passionate, more demanding. Your fingers tangled in his thick hair, pulling him closer. And when you came up for air, you were both breathing hard. He leaned his forehead on yours.

“I want every single part of you, Peach,” he said roughly. “Not just your body.”

Your heart swelled. There was no more holding back now.

“D’you think you can… can you think about trusting me with your heart?”

You hesitated and he knew he needed to get you not to get back in your head. He settled into the large couch and pulled you into his lap. His hands on your body was like nothing else.

“You feel fucking amazing.”

Before he knew it, Steve wrapped a hand around your neck and pulled you down to his mouth. He nipped at your lower lip, then soothed the tender flesh with his tongue, leaving you a trembling mess.

He lifted his hand and ran a finger down the side of your neck; the touch was light but somehow burned.

“Tell me you don’t think about being mine?”

You only whimper in answer, your stubbornness still in control.

He shook his head as he leaned down and followed the trail of his finger with his lips.

It felt so good that you tilted your head to the side with a soft sigh, giving him better access. Steve took full advantage, trailing kisses back up to the sensitive spot behind your ear that made you shiver.

“Fuck, Steve.”

You hooked your leg around his waist and rolled your hips against his like he was a pole. You arched your back and attempted to ride him to get some satisfaction to your core, which was

aching and weeping.

“No. We’re not gonna fuck. Not until you tell me you’re mine. But we can play.”

He arched a dark blonde eyebrow as he kissed down your cleavage and one big hand cupped your breast over your shirt and the other reached down to slip inside your panties.

“You wanna play, Peach? You’re absolutely soaked Sweetheart. Want me to make you feel good?”

It was his one mission in life, and he could do it all day, bring you pleasure.

You pouted up at him, but you couldn’t resist. This high was too addictive.

“Yes, Stevie. Please. Make me feel good.”

He growled lowly when you arched into his touch. You felt the hard length of him pressing against your core, and you reached down to palm him through his pants.

“Fuck. You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Suddenly, your bra was pulled down and his mouth was closing over your nipple, sucking and teasing. He moved lower, getting on his knees beside the couch.

He stopped manhandling you long enough to unbutton his shirt and damn, did you pay attention.

You bit your finger as those muscular shoulders and biceps and chest came into view. Your eyes followed the happy trail that flowed down his six pack and damn the bugle in his pants was big.

That shocked look on your face when you met his eyes again was so hot that Steve wanted to fucking ruin you, but he decided have settle for just tasting you.

“Don’t want you to get my shirt wet, Sweetheart.”

He winked and then reached underneath your skirt to find your panties.

You scrambled up on your hands and scoffed.

“It’s like that?”

Steve grabbed your thighs and pulled them apart, making your skirt ride up.

You leaned back and smiled as he winked and nodded.

He hiked your legs over his shoulders and a second later, his mouth was between them, his tongue teasing the skin near where you really wanted him to be.

You grabbed his hair and ground against his face, already desperate for more. And when he licked straight through the center of you, a scream started in your throat but you stifled it, looking down to see Steve’s eyes twinkle up at you.

He kept you pinned against the couch, gripping your hips with those big, strong hands and holding you in place. His tongue traveled up and down your slit, between your folds, and slid inside your wet cunt.

Your entire body trembled as his tongue toyed with your clit. You felt his smile as he started circling his tongue around the small bundle of nerves.

“Fuck! Give me more!”

Your eyes rolled as two of his long thick fingers entered you and scissored before quickly finding the pile of sensitive flesh inside you. He massaged it and at the same time leaned down to suck your clit into his mouth. It was at that point that your orgasm hit you like a wave.

“Steveeeee! Godddd!”

You screamed as your pussy simultaneously clenched and squirted fluid into Steve’s waiting mouth. Your vision went white, and all the air was sucked out of the room.

Slowly, your surroundings came back into focus. Steve kissed the inside of your thigh, then stood up, watching you with an intensity that made your heart stutter in your chest.

“The way you scream my name makes a man wanna buy you jewels Peach.”

His beard was wet and his voice was raspy, but you reached for him and he leaned down to kiss you, letting you taste your essence on his tongue.

Then, he pulled away and found your bathroom. You stared at the ceiling as the water ran and you assumed he was cleaning up. He returned with his shirt on and a warm towel to help you clean up.

He watched as you shed your clothes, sensuality on display only for him. You reached for his pants and he grabbed your wrists, shaking his head.

“Like I said. That was fun. But you’ve got to make a decision, Peach. Do you want me like I want you?”

The words were right there in your throat, but they refused to come out.

You just stared at him.

Steve smiled at you ruefully.

“Okay. It’s all right. I’m not giving up. Just giving you space.”

He handed you the fluffy white robe that was in the bathroom and you put it on to follow him to the door of your suite.

“See you tomorrow after the Summit for our meeting.”

He kissed you goodbye on the cheek and the dance you and Steve Rogers did continued as you watched him walk away from you.

——-

Hope you liked it! Interaction gives me lifeeeeee! Read, comment, reblog, like. TIA 🥰

Read the next part, Peach VI

#steve rogers #Steve Rogers #steve rogers smut #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #Chris Evans #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mob boss!steve rogers #mob boss!Bucky Barnes #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #kyd ask #ask dj #peach fic #knock you down fic

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itwasntimethatdidit40 · 3 months ago

Text

A good grade.

Pairing: Perv Art Professor!Joel x afab!reader Words count: 4844 Rating: +18, MDNI Summary: You always thought you would have a future in the art world, until you met Mr. Miller, your professor who decided to make your life hell. What are you willing to do for a good grade? Tags: perv!Joel, soft!Joel, power imbalance, degradation, smut, blackmail, reader is described having female genitalia, no other description of her is given, unspecified age gap (in my mind 24/45 but you can imagine whatever, they’re both grown up anyway), unprotected p in v (reader is on the pill but you know, do better irl), oral (f receiving), mention of blowjob, edging, edging with a brush, creampie, pet names, slurs, Joel has a dirty mouth, a lot of swearing, some reader's thoughts marked in italics.

Disclaimers: English is not my first language, very poorly proofread, no beta, it's all my fault and I'm very sorry! I like art but I'm not an expert, I've never taken lessons (well, in high school I did but it was art history and it was only theoretical) and I don't really know how they work, I made it all up so if it doesn't adhere to reality please excuse me. I hope you like it anyway, the other morning I woke up with the idea of Joel painting me as one of his French girls (heheheheh) and I started writing this thing 💀

If anyone wants to be added or removed from the taglist, please let me know. Thanks to anyone who reads, I hope you like it ♥️

You’ve always loved art, since high school it’s always been your favorite subject and drawing and painting your outlet, your way of expressing yourself. Your teachers have always praised you, considering your works not only perfectly executed but significant, mature, full of pathos. Everyone has always told you that you had an eye for recognizing artistic value, you’ve always been the best in your class and you’ve worked hard to get here.

You graduated with excellent grades and were accepted into a prestigious master's program. You would like to become a professional artist or at least an art critic.

You had a bright future ahead of you, until you met Professor Joel Miller.

He has done nothing but criticize you, your skills and your work from the very first day.

And he always does it deliberately, in front of everyone else. No matter how hard you try, you never get more than F for every work you submit. The disdain with which he treats you makes you feel like a failure and your breath die in your throat every time he lays eyes on you and says the most hateful words you’ve ever heard about yourself. Today it happened again. You spent sleepless nights working on this portrait, begging the model called by Professor Miller to see you after class hours. You even offered to pay her and she was kind, she didn’t ask for an outrageous amount despite the fact that she could have taken much more lucrative jobs instead of posing for you. You’re just a master’s student trying to support herself by working nights in a bar.

“What is this?” he thundered looking at your painting “You are only getting worse, miss, I have never seen anything like this. It is indecent that a person like you tries to make art, it should be prohibited by law. Look at this, wrong proportions, no harmony, no attention to detail, nothing. This does not even look like the same person I had pose for hours in front of you. You should be ashamed to present a work like this after 6 months of course”

You won't be able to finish your master's degree unless you get a passing grade in Professor Miller's course, but he doesn't seem at all inclined to give you even a measly D.

It’s a nightmare.

You'd be forced to start all over again, ask your parents for financial help, which is the last thing you want to do when they've already sacrificed so much to help you pay for college, or do the unthinkable and give up on all your dreams, the career you have cultivated with strength and passion throughout your life up until now.

You decide to make a last-ditch effort and try to talk to Mr Miller during his office hours.

You've always avoided it until now because you thought things would get better but it's the third F you get and you can't afford to go on like this.

The idea of being alone with him doesn't excite you at all, but you hate losing everything you've worked so hard for even more.

You take a deep breath before knocking on the door, terrified of what he might say to you.

Mr Miller is also an established artist and his work has been appreciated abroad so his disapproval could really preclude you from many opportunities.

“Come in” even from behind closed door his voice sends shivers down your spine.

You walk in muttering “good afternoon” feeling like a complete idiot, you are already convinced that it was a mistake to come to him, nothing will change his mind.

Joel is sitting behind his desk, frowning as he corrects tests. He looks up from the papers only when you are in front of him “Oh. it's you,” he says in his usual dismissive tone of voice “What do you want miss?”

You clear your throat and murmur, “I...” his gaze is already back on the tests, he doesn't even look at your face as he fills the paper with red marks and writes a big circled F at the top, the assignment of some other hapless person like you who will find himself failing his class. Incredible anger mounts in your body, you clench your fists and say "excuse me" in a stern voice.

It infuriates you, it's maddening how he can't even treat you as a human being for a second.

"What do you want?" he asks annoyed looking back up at you "and be quick about it, you are wasting my time."

“I'd like to know what I need to do to have you evaluate me favorably” you try to keep your tone as detached and respectful as possible even though you despise the man in front of you with every fiber of your body.

“Nothing, you can't do anything, I thought you had figured it out by now, are you also stupid besides not having the slightest talent?”

“Actually...fuck, I don't think I am that bad. And I think you are judging me too harshly,” you spit out feeling tears stinging your eyes. You promised yourself to keep calm but the way he is treating you only makes you want to insult him.

“I advise you to moderate your tone if you don't want to be expelled as well as failed in my class.”

He has the upper hand, you can't do anything about it. A sense of frustration and helplessness crackles under your skin as you plead with him, “Please Mr Miller there must be something I can do to change things. Anything...I…I don't want to fail.”

An evil grin paints on his face “how much do you care about it?”

“It's the only thing I care about, please, art means everything to me” you look at him feeling your whole essence crumble in front of him, you are desperate and tired of struggling, you just want to find a way to work things out. You have very good grades in all the other courses, he is the only one stopping you from achieving what you want most in the world.

“Actually you could do something to make it better,” Joel suggests, and you cry, ”Please, I'll do anything.”

“Anything?” he probes ”are you sure?” His smug, dangerous expression unnerves you, maybe you shouldn't have made yourself so vulnerable in front of him, but there's no turning back now. "Yes," you shriek.

He leans against the back of the chair while continuing to sneer under his mustache “Well, then I have an offer for you. I'm working on a series of paintings of women, you could pose for me.”

“Me?” you ask confused, the last thing you expected was for him to ask you to paint you.

“Why not, if nothing else you're pretty,” he admits, and it's the first nice thing about you that's ever come out of his mouth.

You wonder what the scam is behind his proposal, it can't be that easy, he's probably going to ask you to pose with some repulsive animal or in a way that makes you look completely idiotic or he's just pretending that this is the solution but then he's going to blackmail you and make you regret setting foot in his office.

He writes something on a post-it note and hands it to you “Meet me at this address tomorrow night at 8” he orders you “don't be late”

“I really...” you try to say.

“What? Is there something more urgent you need to do besides securing good grades?” he raises an eyebrow scrutinizing your astonished face.

“No it's just that...I'm supposed to be working at that time.” You mutter.

“Well get your shift changed, or ask someone to fill in for you, pretend to be sick, I don't care, just show up.” He barks at you.

“Okay,” you agree. You can't say no, it's your last resort, either that or total defeat.

You walk out of his office with the feeling that you have gotten into big trouble.

_____________________________

You get confirmation of this the next day when you show up at the address written by Professor Joel. It's on a suburban street with little traffic, in front of you is what looks like an abandoned former factory. A blast of cold air makes you shiver as you ring an old intercom near the front door. You huddle in your coat, wondering where the hell you are. Maybe he gave you the wrong address just to make fun of you, you took two buses to get here, at the very least you'll soon find out your professor isn't even here.

Surprisingly, he answers you instead, his thick voice ordering you to come up. You enter through the doorway into a dusty, bare lobby, only an old freight elevator in front of you. You push the button and the elevator car begins to descend with a sinister, metallic sound. "What the hell is this place?” you ask yourself "my god, I'm going to end up dead and thrown in a dumpster". You get on the elevator with your heart in your throat praying that there isn't a serial killer waiting for you on the other side.

The doors suddenly open wide onto a large room with concrete columns. You step out and look around, there is a large table in the corner, chock full of artists' materials, tempera, canvases, oil paints, watercolors, all thrown in bulk. Various canvases are resting on pedestals scattered around the room, and others lie leaning against the wall. There is an old leather couch in the corner and a double mattress resting on wooden pallets on the other side. Several rugs are spread on the floor. It's all messy and chaotic, but it definitely has the look of an art studio.

"Oh, you're here at last," Joel grunts, popping up from behind a pillar holding a dirty brush stained with red tempera.

He is wearing a pair of frayed jeans and a white T-shirt stained in paint, he is disheveled and barefoot.

He doesn't even look like your professor; he always wears suits and perfectly ironed shirts at university.

Two large leaded windows divided into small squares open on the wall in front of you.

It’s dark by now, so the entire room is softly lit by several lamps and candles scattered around.

“Where should I stand to pose?” you don't intend to put in more than is necessary; spending time with this obnoxious man is the last thing you want to do today.

“Sit on the couch,” Joel orders, pointing to the old leather ruin to your right, ”I'll prepare the necessities and we'll get started.”

You sit, quietly, dreading what lies ahead.

Joel picks up a blank canvas and places it on a stand, takes a graphite pencil from the table and orders you " Undress"

You squint your eyes, squeaking “I'm sorry, what?”

“I'm making a series of artistic nudes, didn't I tell you?” he grins

“No, you don’t” you retort.

Fucking bastard.

“Strip” he repeats firmly.

“But I don't-”

“Look, you're already irritating me, either take off your fucking clothes or get out of here”

You've seen people pose nude in your art classes before, even in Professor Joel's class, and all you've ever cared about was doing a good job, but now it's different. It's just you and him, in a place in the middle of nowhere, you weren't warned before, and more importantly, he makes you uncomfortable.

His gaze has done nothing but judge you from the first moment it landed on you. You don't want to lose that last bit of dignity you still preserve and let him see you in your most intimate form.

“So what have you decided?” Joel presses you.

With extreme reluctance, you begin to take off your coat, laying it on the couch. What else can you do? By now you have fallen into a trap, either you do this or your grade at the end of the course will be F.

F for failure.

“Damn asshole,” you think, ”I hope I never see you again in my life after your fucking course is over.”

The resentment must be clear on your face because Joel mocks you “Oh come on, don't pout like that. There's nothing underneath that I haven't seen a hundred times before. It's just tits and a cunt” he concludes in a dismissive tone, crossing his arms over his chest impatiently.

He rolls his eyes when after some hesitation you slip off the T-shirt you are wearing, revealing a light pink lace bra.

He curls his lips "cute," he whispers in a lascivious tone " take that off too."

“But Mr Miller I...” you try to retort

“Go ahead and take it off,” your arms reach for your back, you undo the hooks of your bra and drop it to the floor. You cannot believe this is happening, you are bare-chested in front of your professor.

"Very well..." he acquiesces, "you see, everything is easier when you cooperate."

He strokes his beard as he glances at you remove your shoes and pulling down your jeans, the same smug, dangerous smile he had in his office returns to peep across his face.

“Good girl.”

You feel a knot in your stomach. And you who thought that commitment and talent were enough to get results...poor naive girl.

You should get out of here and go to the dean and report him for unethical conduct but you suddenly realize that he may be the first, but he won't be the last.

"Lie down on the couch," Joel whispers to you, his gaze not leaving your body, hungry and demanding.

You don't want to be here, yet you feel you can't do anything else at this point.

"Raise your right arm above your head," Joel instructs, "and bend your legs slightly."

“Like this. Don't move," Joel stands in front of the canvas and begins to trace marks on the surface. His hand moves quickly, his fingers run over the traced lines smudging them.

You remain still as he ordered you, feeling goosebumps across your body and your nipples harden from the cold.

You have to admit to yourself that it is fascinating to watch him work; his gaze is alert and sure, his hands move expertly and competently. He is certainly talented.

Joel observes the work done so far, scratching his chin, adding a few touches here and there as his eyes scan the entire surface of the canvas.

Maybe he really just wants to paint you and you're making a big deal out of nothing, maybe this will end well after all. He moves the easel to one side of the sofa you assume to look at you from another angle until he growls “Spread your legs for me, darling”

“But I don't-”

“I need more shadows on your body”

“What?” you glance at him, this sounds like a lame excuse.

“Spread your legs” he repeats ”come on”

You do so, feeling his eyes everywhere on you, feeding on every uncovered inch of your skin. And for some reason you cannot explain, you feel your body react under his gaze. You peak at the outline of his cock straining under his jeans, a rush of adrenaline rushes through you, a flush of arousal between your legs.

No, you can't.

You cannot crave for him to look at you. He's your professor who lured you here under false pretenses.

Yet you realize how incredibly handsome he is. So far you had only thought of him as your teacher and had never truly paused to observe him, especially since he always treated you like a dirtbag.

“Perfect, now stay still like this,” he mutters.

He hums as you do “Such a good girl for me” in a mellifluous and manipulative tone.

You feel his voice penetrate deep into your bones and another thrill of arousal runs through you all, gliding under your skin and straight to your pussy.

This is so fucked up but on the other hand you are thrilled by the idea of ending up in one of his paintings.

He makes a couple of changes to the sketch and then walks over to you, sitting on the armrest of the couch. He watches you intently, as if he wants to study every tiny detail about you, you still have your panties on but you've never felt more naked than that.

“Hmm, someone is wet.” he observes, gazing at the wet spot on your underwear. “It’s all for me?”

“I…uh…no, absolutely not” You don't want to admit it even to yourself but the situation is turning you on, no matter how wrong it is.

“Honey, I advise you never to play poker,” he sneers. You look at him puzzled, and he adds, “You're not good at bluffing at all.”

When he reaches out a hand to touch you, you almost tremble, it's as if your body is crying out to him “take me. use me.”

All you ever wanted from the beginning was his approval and now somehow he seems to recognize something in you. You just want to stop arguing, to stop fighting, to stop feeling like you are worth less than nothing, you just want to know that you still have a future that consists of not settling for a job that you don't love and doesn't allow you to feel fulfilled and let you get the results you know you deserve.

And most of all, you want him to be on your side.

“You're such a pretty little thing, you know that?” his voice gruels as his fingers run from your ankle to your knee and then up to your inner thigh. You stiff, feeling your heart raging up under your ribcage and a fresh flush of arousal dampening your cunt.

How did you never realize how sexy this man is? Now that his gaze has softened you notice the deep brown of his eyes, with some hazel undertones, and how he lights up as he stares at you.

God, you want him so bad right now.

You are almost on the verge of grabbing his wrist and placing his big hand on your pussy already, but you decide to let him.

His fingers move slowly over your skin; instead of touching you where you need it most, his hand stops at your hip, fiddling with the hem of your panties.

"Can I?" he grunts.

You nod silently and he demands “I need you to use your words, baby. Speak to me”

“Yes” you breath

He grins as he places his other hand on your hip and begins to pull down your panties. You lift your pelvis to ease him, and he comments, "mmm, so eager. You’re such a slut, aren’t you?”

You feel your cheeks on fire as you cannot take your eyes off him, desperately in need of his hands, his lips, his tongue and his cock. You want it all, right now. So maybe he’s right, you’re a slut and you don’t even care.

Joel calmly moves your panties down your legs and brings them to his nose, inhaling your scent. “Sweet. I bet you taste even better.”

He gets up from the couch, tucking your panties into his jeans pocket, and takes a clean brush from a container resting on the table. He sits back right next to you, and grins.

He caresses the inside of your leg with the brush, the feeling of the bristles flowing over your skin is incredible, soft and intense at the same time, leisurely moving on your inner thigh, raising up closer and closer to your pussy, his eyes set in yours, mesmerized by you.

You are subjugated by him as he fondles you, going up your belly with his brush, deliberately ignoring your pussy, moving deftly over every curve of your body. It is as if he is painting you, as if he has made you his work of art.

The bristles rub over your rib cage, slowly, then your breasts, moving in concentric circles from your areola to your nipples. He passes the brush back and forth over your hard buds and a deep moan escapes from your throat. “Please, Mr Miller” you whine.

“You can call me Joel, darling” he whispers “what do you need?”

“I…fuck” You’re dripping wet, your voice is a wail and your body is itching to be touched.

“Say it.” he orders you, ”I want to hear it.”

“I want - fuck - my pussy” you blather, you are not even able to form a complete sentence right now.

Joel laughs faintly, descending again on your abdomen, very slowly, until he reaches your mound. He rubs the bristles from right to left lingeringly, then lowering again, descending on your outer lips, first one side and then the other. And then again and again.

When he finally brushes over your clit, you are so pent up and needy that you arch your back, emitting a throaty moan.

“Oh God! Oh my God”

Joel lowers the brush to your clit, surrounding it with the bristles, pushing and making concentric circles. He stops when he feels you on the edge.

And then he does it all again, circling and pressing, jerking your bundle of nerves with the brush. And then a third time.

You’re a crying mess at this point, mind completely numb and your body covered in sweat.

He spreads your folds with his thumbs and sighs, “Look at this pussy, all nice and wet for me, I can’t wait to dip into your sweet honey, babe”

He throws the brush on the floor, it falls with a dull thud bouncing on the carpet.

“So fucking perfect”

You squeeze your eyes whining “please" a riot of emotions assail you, your body is so on the edge you could explode just by the way he looks at you, moistening his lips with his tongue.

He puts his arms around your neck, “cling to me,” he whispers. You do as he says, instinctively encircling his waist with your legs, clinging to his body with all your strength as he carries you to the bed and lays you gently on top.

He undresses, staying in his boxers in front of you.

You can't take your eyes off him, gazing at his wide shoulders, his broad chest, his soft belly with a thin strip of hair running down into his boxers.

He kneels on the bed, facing you, gently spreading your legs and moving between them.

He lowers himself on you, placing a kiss on your clit, making you whimper another pathetic "please."

He sticks his tongue out and runs it flat across your folds, up and down, one hand firmly clinging to your hip, his fingers digging into your skin.

"I was right, you taste amazing," he murmurs against your skin.

You are no longer thinking about anything right now, not about your master's degree, evaluations or the fact that he is your teacher.

You feel his nose hitting on your clit as he eagerly licks your folds, opening them with two fingers to sink his tongue in.

You bite your lower lip, stifling your moans, burying a hand in his dark curls, pulling him toward you “oh fuck, yes”.

His tongue encircles your hard clit, swirling around, his lips lace over it sucking greedily.

“You don’t need to hold back, you can be as loud as you want in here, no one will hear us. Let me hear you, baby. I wanna know how you sound when you come”

He doesn't stop sucking and licking until you feel your orgasm mount inside you like a flooding river, invading your body, curving your toes, clenching your fists on the sheet beneath you and rolling your hips on his face, wetting his lips, his chin, dripping onto your inner thigh.

“Yeah, baby, come apart on my tongue, just like that”

He licks you clean until you calm down, devouring your juices to the last drop and then looks up at you “you have no idea how beautiful you are, starving for my cock” he groans “god, I must have you right now, I must make you mine, you hungry little whore”

You wait for nothing else, it seems your thirst has no way to quench today.

“Please, Joel,”

He pulls off his boxers, throwing them on the floor, his cock springs free and is incredibly hard, you can't stop looking at it. He's big, so big you don't even know how he's going to fit all the way inside you but you don’t care. “Fill me up, Joel, please”

“Yeah? You want this big cock inside you? Want me to fill you up so good baby?” He grumbles.

“Please, Joel, it’s all I need” you whine.

He lies on top of you, tapping your lips a few times with the tip, running it along your folds and wetting it with your juices, aligning himself with your opening, “I'll give you what you want, then.”

He nudges at your hole a moment before he enters you, just the tip, pressing gently to let you get used to his intrusion.

You moan feverishly, clinging to his back, bucking your hips toward him “more, please, more” you plea.

As he plunges inside you, he stares at your face, as if he doesn’t want to miss a single second of your reactions, when he’s ball deep into you you let out an incoherent whine so graveling it doesn’t even sounds like your voice.

He begins to pump into you as you circle his waist with your legs again, pushing to feel him deeper, your hands roaming in his graying hair.

“Here you go, taking me so well princess, you’re so good to me”

When his lips settle on yours you realize that you had not yet kissed until this moment. His lips are soft, demanding, his tongue penetrates your mouth licking eagerly, and you are more than happy to respond, savoring his taste of mint and cigarettes.

One of his hands kneads your breast, his fingers close on one of your nipples as his cock doesn't stop sinking inside you.

You moan into his mouth feeling like you are on the edge of a cliff, ready to fall into the sinful pit of hell.

“Where do you want me?” he whispers in your ear, and your voice comes out broken from the back of your throat ”Inside. please. I'm - fuck - I'm on the pill.”

You feel him spilling his load inside you a moment later, painting your inner wall with his hot sticky cum.

You feel delirious and exhausted, guilty for what you just did. Your moral code has just been shattered under the hot weight of his body.

He kisses you again, lingering on your bottom lip. “You’re so much better than I thought,” he chuckles.

He moves away from you and stands up naked to return to the sketch. He traces a few lines and makes some adjustments as you stare at him in amazement.

“Can you show me?” you ask. “Yes, come here,” he replies. You get up and stand next to him to observe the canvas. Your body is sketched on it and it looks perfect, you have never seen yourself so beautiful.

“You can go if you want, I’m done for today”

“I- I don’t want to”

“Do you want more?” he sneers “god, you really are a slut.” he comments as he gets closer to you.

He fucks you two more times, the first time he makes you get on all fours, licking your pussy from behind and then sinking into you while he holds you by the hips, his cock slamming against your cervix and his balls against your ass. Then you’re too eager to have him in your mouth, to taste your flavor mixed with his, so you offer to give him a blowjob and he fucks your mouth before digging back into your pussy again.

He drives you back to campus. “I may be an asshole, but I won’t let you walk around alone at night,” he says.

You get out of his car feeling like you’re in a bubble, like everything that happened was just a surreal dream you can’t wake up from. You collapse into your bed after throwing your clothes haphazardly on the floor. When you wake up the next morning you feel like shit.

You don't know how boldly you will look your classmates in the eye, but you can't skip class, and the thought of seeing Joel again thrills you, no matter how wrong it is.

When Joel enters the classroom, he ignores you, probably so as not to arouse suspicion; it would be too strange for him to treat you with regard after denigrating you for months.

He begins returning graded tests proceedings slowly as usual, moving between desks and laying down the papers without making any comment. The test that rests on your desk has a circled A at the top.

Tag list: @aurorawritestoescape @baronessvonglitter @lemon-nomel @almostempty @thundermartini @harriedandharassed @pedrostories

#pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters #joel the last of us #joel miller x you #joel tlou #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x afab!reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #perv!joel miller

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