#thank you for this ask i love you and i do see you as my biggest supporter I'm continuing this series for you in particular 🙏

[yukioos]

katsuki bakugo and the double standard

you, mina, and kyoko were talking in your bedroom before the two of you invited denki and eijiro over. you and the girls made matching bracelets together, incorporating each other's eye colors into them, with your first initial in the middle. as all of you laughed together and talked about drama, then a show that was creating a new season, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of emptiness.

the only one that was missing was your boyfriend, katsuki.

you sighed as you stared at the red beads, rolling one in between your fingers, reminding you of the color of his crimson eyes. you spaced out, mind focused on your boyfriend, and you didn’t even realize what the topic of the conversation shifted to until denki tapped your shoulder.

“hey, are you okay? i think you zoned out.”

mina smirked, “i know. she’s thinking of bakugo! you love him so much, don’t you?” she bumped your shoulder with hers and smiled at you with her eyes squinted.

you rolled your eyes and shyly smiled, averting your eyes. eijiro then brought up with a grin, “hey, you know how bakugo always seems so angry around us but not around you?” he stared at you, but you grinned, unaware of what was to happen, “we were thinking of testing that theory out. i’ll ask him if he can get me something from the record shop near campus, we’ll see how he reacts, then you can ask him to get you something from that cafe nearby!”

sounded good to you! maybe it would be funny to see his reaction change from eijiro’s request to yours.

you nodded, and the whole group cheered. the redhead then took out his phone and you all huddled around him, curious as to what was to happen. he called katsuki four times before the blonde finally picked up.

katsuki sighed, “what.” eijiro frowned with his eyes widened, and looked around at all of you. you tried to stifle your giggles at his reaction by covering your mouth.

eijiro asked, “hey man, do you mind getting me some stuff from the record shop nearby? i already ordered everything, you’d just need to pick it up—“

“no! get off your ass and get it yourself!” he yelled, causing his best friend to nearly drop the device in shock. katsuki then hung up.

all of the group was silent for a couple of seconds before you all burst into laughter. denki was tearing up and mina could hardly breathe even as she held onto her stomach for dear life.

about half an hour later, you decided to call katsuki, and he picked up within a few seconds. eijiro’s jaw dropped. he was astonished by how much he had to wait for a response, but how quickly his best friend answered you, his girl.

“hey,” katsuki greeted. he sounded not displeased nor pleased, so you were confused. little did you know, he paused everything just to lay on his bed and listen to your voice.

“hey kats! could you get me some sweets from the cafe i like? please?”

he paused, “fine. do you want the usual?” he tried to sound irritated but failed miserably.

you giggled and nodded, forgetting he couldn’t hear you. you replied, “yes, please, kats! thank you!”

he mumbled, “shut up,” and blushed. ruffling sounds were audible from his side of the call, and you could tell he was standing up from his bed to walk out of his dorm.

you exclaimed, “when you have all the sweets, come to my dorm! love you, blondie!”

he softly mumbled it back to the point where it was nearly inaudible, and you were the only one who could hear it. after half an hour passed, a knock was heard on your door, and the chatter stopped. you hurriedly rushed to open the door with a smile on your face.

the blonde carried a large bag with multiple containers of sweets, even some that you didn’t recognize. he bought you extras? god, he was all you could ever ask for. the perfect man.

“oh, yay! you’re the best, kats!” you propped your hands on his wide shoulders and kissed his cheek, earning a smile from him.

when you invited your boyfriend in and he saw the group you were hanging out with, denki gasped, “hey! why did you get her stuff but not—”

“shut up!” katsuki immediately retorted, not letting him finish.

he took your favorite cake out of the bag and handed it to you, along with a fork and a napkin. you squealed, jumped, and spun around in a circle. you pulled him down to sit with you on the ground, in the circle with your friends.

as you ate the cake, you scooted closer to your boyfriend. suddenly, you heard stifled, deep chuckles from someone next to you. you tilted your head at katsuki, whose eyes were finally squinted due to giving you a real smile.

he brought his finger up to your cheek and wiped something off your cheek, supposedly frosting.

kyoko quickly reacted, “never would’ve expected you to be the sap, bakugo.”

katsuki grumbled again and rolled his eyes, “shut up—“

“you’ve said that like, four times already.” eijiro replied, wanting to frustrate his best friend more.

katsuki continued to mutter curses under his breath, and the conversation continued without the both of you two. you smiled at his rather hard expression, then suddenly rubbed his bicep with your hand. his eyes turned towards yours, and as soon as they did, you were about to kiss his cheek, when he turned his head at the right time so you would finally kiss him on the lips.

you giggled. since when was katsuki so proud of being so flirty in public? you knew he didn’t care much for physical touch in front of others, so you were fairly confused. however, you weren’t complaining.

“aww, you just love your girl so much, don’t you?” eijiro ruined the moment.

“yeah, i do, so shut the hell up!”

not proofread, hope u guys like this one!

[this-is-tiny-mia]

Sorry, wrong number (H.S. One Shot) Part 2.

THIS IS A PART 2 - YOU CAN FIND PART 1 HERE Summary: A wrong-number text leads to an unexpected connection between a you and a stranger. What starts as a playful exchange quickly becomes the highlight of their days, leaving you curious about the man behind the messages.

A/n: OKAY again, i wasn't expecting SO MUCH love to this One shot, i actually wasn't expecting anything tbh, I want to thank @eileenrry for giving me the last push to publish it, ily 🥹. Just a reminder, english is not my first language bare with me with grammar. and it's also my first One shot so be gentle 🥹. Andddd this isn’t the end there’s one more part coming. Anddd please let me know if I missed someone in the tag list, I’m trying to get used to tumblr again after a few years so everything it’s upside down for me.

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: Use of y/n, slow burn but things catch up quickly at the end, a small vulnerable moment. (idk if it counts as angst, please let me now if i should add another warning)

You froze, gripping your cup as if it could somehow tether you to reality. Your mind raced—what were you supposed to do now? Walk over and say hi? Pretend you didn’t see him? Was he expecting you to make the first move? Or maybe you were just desperately hoping to wake up from this fever dream.

Before you could decide, he pushed off the wall and started walking toward you. Shit. Shit. Shit. Your heart pounded in your chest. Every step he took felt deafening, like the slow-motion build-up to a climactic movie scene.

By the time he reached your table, you were caught between bolting for the door or sinking into your seat to avoid collapsing altogether. You knew him, of course—who didn’t? A few years ago, you even considered going to one of his concerts but didn’t manage to get tickets. It wasn’t something that crushed you; you weren’t the kind of fan to cry yourself to sleep over it. Instead, you shrugged it off with an “Okay, maybe next time.”

What you didn’t know was that “next time” would turn out to be a one-on-one meeting with him in a café, while he tried (and failed) to stay incognito.

“Hi,” he said, sliding off his sunglasses. That voice—his voice—sent a shiver down your spine. And then came that signature, disarming smile. “Is this seat taken?” he asked as he sat down without waiting for an answer. Of course, it wasn’t taken.

You stared at him, frozen, your mouth slightly parted. Every movement he made was deliberate yet casual, like he was completely at ease in this moment. Meanwhile, your brain was still scrambling to process whether this was real life or a fever dream. Somehow, you managed to breathe out a shaky, “Hi.”

For a moment, the space between you was thick with silence, though not uncomfortable—just charged. He gave you a sheepish smile, scratching the back of his neck like he wasn’t entirely sure how to begin.

“I guess this is the part where the serial killer takes the victim,” he said, teasing to break the tension. “Lucky for you, I’m not one—as you can see.”

You blinked, finally finding your voice, though it was a little wobbly. “No, no, I clearly see you’re not a serial killer.” A nervous smile tugged at your lips, trying its best to outshine the chaos of emotions tumbling through you.

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and reassuring. “Yeah. Guess fate wanted me to see if you’re as interesting in person as you are over text.”

Your face flushed, your mind racing to keep up. You weren’t sure if it was from embarrassment, disbelief, or something else entirely—a weird kind of thrill that you couldn’t quite place.

“Well,” you said, fighting to steady your voice, “I guess this is where I admit I didn’t think you were real—or at least, not this real.”

“How not ‘this real’?” he asked, his head tilting slightly as curiosity glinted in his eyes. “I mean, I’m way too real right now.”

“Like… I thought I was texting a random Harry,” you said, stumbling through your words, trying to explain yourself without sounding completely ridiculous.

“I’m still a random Harry,” he replied with a small shrug, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Well, he wasn’t exactly wrong. To himself, he was just Harry—not the Harry. You sat there for a moment, considering his words. In some strange way, nothing about him being this Harry changed what you’d already come to know. It didn’t undo the weeks of shared thoughts, the genuine conversations, the effortless way you clicked.

You thought about the little quirks you’d picked up from his texts—the way he used emojis just enough to be endearing but not overkill, the offhanded pictures of random things he’d shared, the teasing yet thoughtful tone that felt so easy to respond to. Famous or not, none of that felt fake.

“You’re right,” you said finally, a small smile breaking through your nervousness. “You’re still just Harry. The same Harry who asked for help picking nail polish colors like it wasn’t a BIG decision for a BIG brand” His laugh came easily, soft but genuine. “Hey, it wasn’t that big, i told you i already had those colors in mind.” He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. “But honestly, I’m glad it was you on the other side of those texts.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse still racing, but his words—and the way he said them—settled something in you. Maybe this wasn’t as surreal as it seemed. Maybe it was just two people who happened to find each other, one text at a time. “Why glad?” you asked, frowning slightly, not quite understanding what he meant. He leaned back a little, a soft smile playing on his lips as he considered his response.

“Because,” he said after a moment, “it’s rare these days to have a conversation that feels real, you know? No filters, no pretense. Just… people being themselves. And with you, it felt like that from the start.”

You blinked, his words hitting a little deeper than you expected.

“I mean, I didn’t know I was texting someone who I needed filters for to begin with,” you joked, trying to lighten the moment. He laughed, the sound warm and easy, a sound that felt like it reached across the table and wrapped around you. “That’s the point,” he said.

You paused, taking in his words. It felt big, weighty, yet oddly simple at the same time. Like he was trying to say something beyond the words themselves, but without complicating it. Instead of overthinking it, you just nodded, letting out a small, genuine smile.  “Well,” you said softly, meeting his eyes, “I’m glad it was me, too.”

He didn’t have much time that day, just stopping for a coffee on his way to the studio. You secretly wished this was that rom-com moment because moments like this only existed in movies, right? After some light small talk about the coffee and an exchange of polite goodbyes, he stood up to leave. You stayed behind, frozen, letting it all sink in—this wasn’t a dream. You felt butterflies over a pop star. You’d been talking to him for more than a month without knowing. Suddenly, your boring, predictable life felt like it belonged to someone else. It didn’t even matter what would happen from now on—this was your story.

----

"Morning, Tulip 🌷. Today’s question: Favorite recent album of all time?"

You didn’t expect a text from him the morning after. You figured he’d need time to process the fact that you’d actually met in person. But no, there he was, texting you like nothing had changed, his chill demeanor so endearing it almost made your heart ache.

"Is this a trick question?" you replied, grinning at your phone. "Because I don’t want to hurt your feelings if I don’t say it’s one of your albums."

The thought was surreal—bantering and teasing Harry Styles over text? That was straight out of fanfic material. (A/n: Not me breaking the fourth wall in my first fic lol.)

"Don’t worry, I wasn’t expecting you to say one of my albums," he replied. Of course, he wasn’t.

"‘You’ by Larry Lovestein," you texted back after a moment of thought.

"Love that," he responded quickly.

How was anyone supposed to concentrate on mundane daily tasks after meeting Harry Styles in a café the day before? And not only that, but he was texting you like you were the most interesting person in the world. And—AND—he had a nickname for you! A nickname.

"Y/N?" Gwen’s voice jolted you back to reality. You blinked twice, trying to refocus. "Yes?"

"Coffee?" she asked, smirking knowingly as she handed you a cup. "What’s up with you?" she said, sitting down next to you. 

"Nothing… just… clients, emails," you said quickly, trying to act like your insides weren’t throwing a full-blown party.

"Clients and emails, huh?" Gwen raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I’ve never seen you smile like that over clients and emails."

You swallowed hard, thankful she wasn’t too nosy. You didn’t want to risk sharing too much, not when you were casually texting with Harry Styles. That thought lingered—Why did he trust you? He could’ve easily stayed anonymous. He could’ve walked away from the café and pretended it never happened. Instead, he chose to tell you. It was terrifying to imagine how vulnerable that decision must’ve been for him. What if you were the wrong person? Someone who’d plaster it all over social media the next day? The weight of his trust settled over you, and for the first time, you realized just how fragile this connection was—and how much you wanted to protect it.

You weren’t rushing into anything; neither of you were. It was easy, light, and fun—like reconnecting with a long-lost friend, only this friend was Harry Styles. Over the next month, the “question game” continued, but it evolved. There were more pictures, videos, and now… voice notes. Yes, voice notes. You couldn’t help but replay them at the end of the day, savoring the sound of his voice as if it were a melody written just for you.

The intimacy deepened as more pieces of your lives were shared. Selfies of him at the studio, casual and effortless—selfies meant only for you. These weren’t circulating on Twitter or stashed in some secret Reddit thread. They were yours alone. And you shared back: snapshots of your day-to-day life—your desk cluttered with coffee cups, a corner of your office bathed in sunlight, and even a shy selfie taken at the café table where you’d first met him.

You didn’t know if you could call it a real friendship just yet, but it certainly felt like one. There was a comfortable rhythm between you now, a bond that felt genuine and unforced.

He clearly didn’t have much free time to casually meet again, though you hadn’t asked. The idea of seeing him in person again was both thrilling and terrifying. It wasn’t just his fame—it was the weight of the connection you were building. Trust was a fragile thing, and you both seemed to understand that. Brick by brick, you were quietly constructing something that felt worth protecting.

“How’s THIS cold today??” you texted, attaching a selfie where only your eyes peeked out from beneath two bulky jackets, a beanie, and a scarf. The icy weather was relentless, and staying home had been the original plan, but of course, the two important files you needed were on your office computer.

“How are you OUT in THIS cold? That’s the question” he replied almost immediately

“I need some files I left at the office. Forgot to upload them yesterday”

“Don’t freeze out then”

“I’ll try.”

You smiled at the screen, tucking your phone back into your pocket. It was so easy—he was so easy to talk to. You didn’t feel the need to answer immediately, and you didn’t panic when he didn’t either. It was a natural back-and-forth, effortless and grounding. The way he interacted with you made you feel like he wasn’t someone crazy famous, like he was just Harry—your Harry, in a way. And you hadn’t told anyone yet. It wasn’t exactly a secret, but you hesitated to share it. How would people react? Would they even believe you? For now, you were content to keep it to yourself. It felt special this way, untouched by the opinions or expectations of others. Just you and him, chatting like old friends.

In your mind, it was going to be a quick trip—drive downtown, grab the files, and rush back home under a cozy blanket. In your mind. But life had other plans, didn’t it? 

Sliding into your car after uploading the files and rubbing your hands for warmth, you turned the key in the ignition. A rusty, choking sound filled the air, followed by... nothing. “I’m sorry??” you exclaimed, staring at the dashboard as though sheer willpower would coax it to life. “No, no, no, you can break down TOMORROW! Not now!” Your fingers fumbled to turn the key again, and again, each attempt more pathetic than the last.

With a defeated sigh, you slumped back against the seat, a puff of breath visible in the freezing air. Accepting your fate, you pulled out your phone and opened your insurance app to report the issue. Unsurprisingly, the weather had caused delays, and it would be a while before they could send a tow truck. You quickly snapped a screenshot of the insurance chat and sent it to Harry. 

“I don’t know if I can keep my promise of not freezing out.”

His reply came almost instantly. “What?? Your car broke down??”

“Yep. They say it’s going to be a while because of the weather” you texted back.

“Where you at?”

“Parked in front of my office,” you replied, your stomach doing a small flip at how fast he was responding.

“No, I mean the address” he sent back.

Your heart skipped a beat. Was he serious? You immediately typed back

“Don’t even try it, I’m fineeee,” 

You lied, knowing full well you weren’t fine at all. But it wasn’t the cold or the broken-down car that had your stomach in knots. It was the thought of Harry coming to “save you” that sent a swarm of butterflies into overdrive. Because it wouldn’t just mean Harry coming to help. It meant seeing him again—really seeing him—since the big reveal. No screen between you, no casual texts to ease the nerves. Just him, in person, showing up for you in a way that made it harder to ignore what was happening between you two.

And as much as that idea thrilled you, it scared you just the same.

“Please?”

That was all it took. How can a girl resist a please from Harry Styles? Go ahead, i’ll be here waiting if you find someone. You sighed, caved, and typed the address, pressing send without overthinking. He didn’t reply, but he didn’t need to—you both knew what was about to happen. No confirmation was necessary.

Twenty-six minutes later, you were bundled in your car, trying to stay warm and still, counting down the seconds until the surreal became reality. The street was eerily quiet—only a few brave souls trudging through the cold. Who in their right mind would be out in this weather? That’s when you saw it—a black car pulling up right in front of yours. Your breath hitched as you recognized him in the rearview mirror, his eyes catching yours for a fleeting moment. Then, your phone buzzed.

“Did you order an Uber?”

You let out a chuckle, a mix of nerves and amusement, and grabbed your purse. Stepping out into the biting cold. Sliding into the passenger seat, everything about this moment felt surreal. The warmth of the car, the subtle hum of the engine, and, most of all, him—Harry, sitting next to you like this was the most natural thing in the world. Your movements felt slower, deliberate, as though your body and mind were bracing themselves for what this meant. Sitting in the same car with Harry Styles wasn’t something you had ever imagined happening, not like this.

“Hi again” you said softly, your breath visible in the cold air.

“Hi” he replied, flashing that disarming smile. “Need a friendly lift? or should I just keep pretending I’m an Uber driver?” You laughed, the tension melting just a little. 

“Well, that depends…what’s your rating?”

“Solid five stars,” he said, easing the moment even further. And just like that, the butterflies in your stomach settled into something a little calmer, a little more certain.

“Sounds good then,” you replied, falling into a silence that was more reflective than awkward. Your mind was spinning with a million thoughts—what this meant, how this even happened, and whether you’d wake up any second now.

“So, where to?” he asked, breaking the silence with a soft smile.

“Oh! Right,” you snapped out of your daze, quickly explaining where you lived. It hit you how crazy this was—months ago, you’d been so cautious, terrified to even drop a vague hint about your location. And now? Now, Harry Styles was driving you to your apartment.

“You really didn’t have to,” you said, glancing at him.

“I know,” he replied, flashing a smile that made your heart stutter.

The drive was… nice. Surprisingly nice. The small talk flowed naturally—not forced, not the awkward kind you’d exchange in an elevator. It felt easy, even comforting. If you didn’t look at him for too long, you were almost able to suppress the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Almost.

“Weren’t you busy? It’s a Thursday,” you asked, realizing the absurdity of the situation.

“You really think I know what day it is?” he replied, his tone light and sincere, not smug or pretentious—just endearingly innocent. You couldn’t help but laugh. 

“What, no color-coded calendar?”

He shook his head, grinning. “Nope. I’ve got the schedule of a 60-year-old retiree, not a nine-to-fiver. Days kind of blend together, you know?”

And there it was again—that disarming charm that made it all feel so normal. So easy. Like this wasn’t the most surreal thing that had ever happened to you.

“Yeah, I should’ve guessed,” you muttered with a small smile, trying to keep your voice steady.

The whole drive, your mind raced with scenarios. What would happen when you reached your apartment? Do you invite him in? Do you just thank him and say goodbye? And if—by some miracle—he did come in, did you even remember to pick up the clothes from the bathroom floor? But before you could spiral any further, his voice cut through your thoughts, casual and confident, like he already had the answers to all your questions.

“Can I invite myself over for a tea?” he asked, pulling into a parking spot in front of your building.

You blinked, caught off guard. “I was going to invite you,” you said quickly, defending yourself as you scrambled to regain composure.

“No, you weren’t,” he replied with a teasing grin, already stepping out of the car. And just like that, you knew the decision had been made for you. Butterflies? Gone. They’d evolved into full-blown fireworks. You shakily opened the door, praying the apartment was in some semblance of order. To your relief, aside from two glasses sitting on the kitchen counter, everything was in place.

“You can still blow me off if you’re busy,” he said, stepping inside and glancing around, taking in your space with quiet curiosity.

“It’s fine. Perks of being a freelancer,” you replied, heading to the kitchen and opening a cabinet to search for tea. “I don’t have many flavors, though,” you admitted, scanning the limited options.

“Well, it’s a good thing I like most,” he said with an easy grin. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“Okay,” you said softly, smiling as you set the kettle on to boil. While waiting for the water to heat, you found yourself watching him. He wandered a bit, casually inspecting the books on the shelf, a framed photo on the wall, and the little details of your life.

It was surreal—a good surreal—watching Harry Styles in your apartment, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Like how? How was this happening? And why did it feel so oddly natural, like a longtime friend had stopped by for a chat?

The sharp whistle of the kettle broke your trance. You quickly poured the tea, handing him one of the steaming mugs.

“Thanks,” he said, taking it with a small nod. Then, as if sensing your disbelief, he gave you a sly smile. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied, taking a sip of your tea to avoid answering further. Were you okay? Absolutely not.

He sat down on the couch, cradling the mug in his hands, and you followed, sitting on the armchair across from him. The silence wasn’t awkward—it was comfortable, filled with the sound of the occasional sip of tea and the faint hum of the heater working overtime against the cold.

“Nice place,” he said, his eyes scanning the room again before settling on you. “Feels very...you.”

You tilted your head, curious. “What does ‘me’ feel like?”

He chuckled softly. “Warm, cozy. A little bit of chaos in the details.” He nodded toward the stack of papers on your desk.

You groaned and put your head in your hands. “Okay, maybe I wasn’t fully prepared for company.”

“Nah, it’s perfect,” he said, grinning. “Makes it feel real.”

You smiled at that, the tension in your shoulders easing. “And your place? What’s it like?”

He leaned back, thinking for a moment. “Depends which one,” he teased, and you rolled your eyes dramatically. 

“Okay, fancy. You know what I mean. The one that feels most like home.”

His expression softened. “It’s quiet. Lots of books. A few random things I’ve collected over the years. Nothing too extravagant.”

“That’s not what I imagined,” you admitted honestly.

He raised an eyebrow. “What did you imagine?”

You hesitated, wondering if you should hold back or just say it. “I don’t know. Something...flashier? Like an MTV Cribs episode or something.” He laughed, a deep, genuine sound that filled the room.

“God, no. I’d hate living like that. Flashy isn’t my thing.”

The conversation flowed from there—effortless and natural. You talked about little things, like favorite movies and weird food combinations, and at some point, you stopped feeling like you had to pinch yourself. It just felt like two people enjoying tea on a cold day. Eventually, though, the tea mugs were empty, and the silence settled in again, this time heavier with unspoken thoughts.

“I should probably get going soon,” he said, breaking the stillness.

Your heart sank a little, but you nodded. “Right. Of course.”

He stood, stretching a bit, and you followed him to the door. He hesitated there, turning to look at you with a small, almost shy smile.

“Thanks for the tea,” he said, lingering. “And...for letting me pick you up.”

“Anytime,” you said softly, and you meant it.

As he stepped out into the cold, he glanced back one last time. “See you soon?”

“Yeah,” you said, watching him walk to his car, the promise of “soon” hanging in the air. You closed the door behind him, leaning against it as you exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. The room felt emptier now, even though he’d only been there for a short time. You glanced at the two empty mugs on the table, a small smile tugging at your lips.

For a moment, you let yourself replay everything in your mind—the way he casually fit into your space, the warmth in his voice, the way he lingered just a little before leaving. But then, your phone buzzed.

“Thanks again. Made the cold much more bearable.”

----

“Are you dating someone?” Gwen asked, her smile widening as she caught you grinning at your phone.

 “What? No, I would’ve told you,” you replied quickly, placing your phone face down on the table. Normally, that would’ve been true—you’d tell her about a new guy or someone interesting in your life without hesitation. But this wasn’t a normal situation. This was different. And as much as you tried to keep it hidden, clearly your expression was giving something away.

“Would you, though?” she teased, leaning in slightly, her tone playful but probing.

“Yes, I promise,” you said, hoping to sound convincing. Deep down, you felt a twinge of guilt. You’d apologize later for lying to her—she’d understand. At least, you hoped she would.

“What’s something you’ve never told anyone before?”

You hesitated, the weight of his question lingering in the air. “Something I’ve never told anyone?” you said to yourself, stalling, your mind racing. “Okay… when I was younger, I used to think I wasn’t enough for the things I really wanted. Like, I’d convince myself it was better not to try because failing would just prove it. I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone that before.”

You stared at the text, feeling vulnerable. Naked even. It wasn’t easy to admit things like that, not even to yourself. But somehow, with him, it didn’t feel as scary. The way he spoke, the way he made you feel like he’d never judge you, created a space that felt safe.

"I think wanting things, letting yourself want them, is the bravest part. Like… taking that first step, you know? Even if it’s scary. Besides, from what I can tell, you’re more than enough. Probably always have been. You just needed to catch up to it."

You read that, smiling softly at your screen. It was strange—how he could make you feel like all those nagging voices in your head didn’t stand a chance against his words. Like he had this way of dissolving your doubts faster than your therapist ever could. Maybe it was because you believed him so easily, the way he spoke like he knew something you didn’t, like he could see a future you hadn’t dared to imagine yet.

"Wow, how much you charge per therapy session?" you texted, hoping to lighten the moment without brushing it off. "Your turn," you added, nudging him back into the conversation.

The pause before his response wasn’t long, but it was enough to make you wonder what he might say next.

"Sometimes, I miss being no one. Just… Harry. Not Harry Styles. I love what I do, don’t get me wrong. But there’s a part of me that wishes I could walk into a room and not feel like I have to be something for everyone. It’s strange. How can you be surrounded by people all the time and still feel like no one really sees you?"

You read his words slowly, letting them settle in. And then it hit you—both of you knew the feeling. Both of you felt seen by each other in the way you both wanted to be seen. It didn’t need to be said out loud, but it was there, clear as water.

"I met you as Just Harry. And ‘Just Harry’ is pretty awesome to me 😉. I still see Just Harry"

His reply came almost instantly.

"Thanks, Tulip 🌷❤️."

You stared at the screen, your heart skipping a beat. The little red heart stood out in the conversation like a tiny, unspoken promise. It was the first one either of you had shared. And somehow, it felt like a beginning.

The day went on as usual, no more texts exchanged. Both of you were busy, focused on work, yet your mind kept wandering back to Harry. How everything between you was unfolding—it wasn’t painfully slow, but it wasn’t rushing either. It was just… perfect.

You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of him. Sometimes you even laughed, scrolling through the gossip and pictures of him on Twitter. THIS is the man you knew? The same man who shared something he hadn’t told anyone else? It felt surreal.

Millions of people thought they knew him, adored him, and claimed a piece of him for themselves. But you—you really knew him. In a way that was different. Special. Personal. It was crazy to think about, but somehow, it felt right.

You were scrolling through many tweets in bed when it came. Another text.

"I’ve been around the world and back, and I still find myself wanting to talk to you about everything. What does that mean?"

PART 3

--- Taglist: @jackiehollanderr @proudravenclawbird @hopeyoustaythenight @maryjahps @obsessiveenthusiast @liiit44 @loveheart-123 @harrystyleshotwife @harryscherries28 @addiemb8332 @cumuluscranium @gguksfilter @alemunson42069 @sarah22194 @summertime-pills @hescrush @cosmomento @harrys-wifeyy

[tsunodaradio]

cold coffee ⛐ 𝐎𝐏𝟖𝟏

“best thing about your hometown?” “apparently it’s the coffee. i don’t drink coffee so i don’t know. for me, it’s just that it’s home.”

ꔮ starring: oscar piastri x café owner!reader. ꔮ word count: 4.8k. ꔮ includes: romance, friendship, fluff. mentions of food. set in melbourne, spans a couple of years (alleged slowburn), oscar pines!!! so much!!!, cameos from oscar's sisters. ꔮ commentary box: lots of love all around i.e. contract renewal + home race. had to do it to 'em. inspired by this video, where two of my friends immediately demanded to see a barista!reader. did a bit of a spin on it, but the concept is intact! ☕ 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

♫ cold coffee, ed sheeran. something, somehow, someday, role model. i'd have to think about it, leith ross. time, angelo de augustine. keep the rain, searows. the view between villages, noah kahan.

It starts with Hattie.

Oscar’s younger sister had spent the morning badgering him, pleading in the way only a sibling with endless energy and zero regard for his sanity could. She’d tugged on his sleeve, whining about the new café down the street, her eyes wide with manufactured innocence.

“We’ve been home for two weeks, and you haven’t done anything fun,” she’d accused, arms crossed as she blocked his way to the fridge. “Come with me. Pleeease?”

Which is why, against his better judgment, Oscar is now standing in line at a café that smells overwhelmingly like roasted coffee beans and vanilla. He eyes the display of pastries, hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie, and tries to ignore the way his hair sticks to his forehead from the walk over.

“You should get something,” Hattie says, nudging his side.

“I don’t drink coffee.”

She rolls her eyes, as if this is a personal insult. “They have other stuff. You could try tea. Or a hot chocolate. Or—”

“Next!”

Oscar looks up, and that’s when he sees you.

You’re behind the counter, all smiles and easy confidence, a pencil tucked behind your ear. The apron you wear is a little big on you, the straps tied in a messy bow at the back. There’s a small streak of flour on your cheek and you lean onto the counter like you’re genuinely excited to take their order.

“What can I get for you guys?”

Hattie launches into her order with the determination of a girl on a mission, listing out her exact specifications for an iced mocha with extra whipped cream. You write everything down with a nod, your fingers deftly clicking buttons on the register.

“And for you?” you ask, turning to Oscar with the kind of warmth that makes his skin prickle.

“I, uh—” he clears his throat, resisting the urge to look away. “I don’t drink coffee.”

“That’s okay,” you say, like it actually is. “We’ve got some pretty good non-coffee options. Do you like chocolate? Or maybe something fruity?”

Your kindness is standard Melbourne hospitality, he tells himself. It’s not personal. 

But there’s a lightness to the way you speak to him, patient and unbothered, that makes something unfamiliar stir in his chest. “Fruit tea’s fine,” he says, trying not to sound as awkward as he feels.

You smile, really smile, like he’s made the best choice in the world. “One fruit tea, coming up.”

And just like that, it’s done.

Hattie drags him to a table by the window, her enthusiasm buzzing loud enough to fill the entire space. Oscar watches as you move behind the counter, steaming milk and melting chocolate, and thinks that maybe, just maybe, he’ll let Hattie convince him to come back tomorrow.

You carry their drinks to the table with practiced ease, setting them down carefully to avoid any spills. Hattie beams as you place her elaborate drink in front of her. Oscar watches quietly as you slide his drink toward him— a peach iced tea, condensation already gathering on the glass.

“Enjoy,” you say with that same warm smile.

Oscar mutters a thanks, wrapping his hands around the cold glass. He takes a sip, the sweetness clinging to his tongue, and casts a glance at the door. 

He could leave. They’ve got their drinks, Hattie’s satisfied, and his obligation is technically fulfilled.

But he doesn’t move.

Instead, he sits back in his chair, sipping at his tea like he’s got all the time in the world. Hattie chatters about her netball games and how she’s trying to convince their parents to get a puppy, but Oscar only half-listens, eyes flicking up every now and then to watch you.

Maybe he should buy something else. 

A snack, maybe. 

For Hattie, obviously.

Or he could offer to take Hattie’s cup back to the counter when she’s done. (Except the café has self-service return trays, and he’d already clocked that the second they sat down.) 

He hates how obvious he’s being. And he hates even more how he doesn’t seem to care.

Eventually, you circle back to their table, wiping your hands on a dish towel.

“Hey,” you say, leaning slightly against the chair next to Hattie’s. “Everything alright? Drinks okay?”

Oscar nods wordlessly, swallowing his drink. It tastes a bit too sugary now.

“It’s so good,” Hattie gushes, kicking her legs under the table. “I’m gonna make mum bring me back next weekend!”

Your eyes brighten. “That’s great. We’ve only been open a few weeks, so we’re still figuring stuff out. The owner’s a nice guy, but he’s old school. Doesn’t know how to use the cash register half the time.”

Oscar finally speaks, his voice scratchy as if he’s forgotten how to use it. “You work here by yourself?”

“Most days,” you admit, shrugging. “He’s got grandkids, so sometimes he dips out early to see them. But I don’t mind. It’s just part-time, and I live nearby.”

Oscar processes this slowly, like if he takes long enough, the conversation won’t end.

“How old are you?” Hattie asks, her bluntness making Oscar cringe.

You don’t seem to mind, though. You laugh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Fifteen. I’m starting Year 10 next term.”

Oscar blinks. The fact that you’re the same age as him shouldn’t feel as significant as it does, but it lands like a surprise punch to the gut.

“I’m fourteen,” Hattie announces proudly.

"That’s a fun age," you tell her kindly; she looks at you like you’re the coolest person in the world, and Oscar is half-inclined to agree. 

Then you glance at Oscar, head tilting. “What about you? You go to school around here?”

He shifts in his seat, rubbing at the condensation ring his glass left on the table. “Boarding school,” he says curtly. “Just home for the summer.”

“Ah,” you say, like that explains something.

Hattie pipes up again, because of course she does. “He races cars,” she declares. “He’s, like, really good.”

Oscar feels his face heat. He glares at Hattie, who just grins, already licking melted whipped cream off her finger.

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously? That’s awesome,” you say, and you don’t sound condescending or anything. You sound genuinely awed, and Oscar fears he’s going to replay it in his head the entire night. 

“We should go,” he says abruptly, pushing back from the table.

“What?” Hattie pouts. “But I want a pastry!”

“We can get one,” Oscar promises through gritted teeth, standing and grabbing her empty cup so fast the ceramic clinks loudly against the saucer. He forces himself to slow down, his fingers a little shaky. “Next time.”

Hattie hops out of her seat, already skipping toward the door. Oscar follows, grateful for the escape, but you call out before he makes it too far.

“I hope you do come back,” you say, smiling again. This time, it feels like it’s just for him. The words, the smile, the look. 

Oscar nods stiffly, tugging at the sleeves of his hoodie.

He doesn’t know if he will. But, as he lingers on the way out, he wonders how many summers he has left— and how many excuses he can make before you start to notice.

Inevitably, his appearances at the café become almost routine.

It starts small: once a week, maybe twice, a stop by for a drink he doesn’t actually want. But Hattie catches on fast, and soon she’s dragging Edie and Mae along too, the three of them whispering and snickering at a volume they absolutely think is subtle.

“I like the pastries,” he claims when Edie wiggles her eyebrows at him.

“Sure,” Mae chirps, swinging her feet as she dangles them off her chair. “Totally the pastries. Not the barista who always makes your drink herself even when there’s someone else on shift.”

Oscar gives her a withering look, but she remains undeterred, biting into her muffin with the smugness of someone who knows she’s right.

He denies it. Again and again. Because he doesn’t know what to do with the idea of having a crush, let alone on you. He’s already awkward enough on his own, and he refuses to fuel his sisters’ relentless teasing.

But then he comes in one day— alone, this time— and you’re not there.

Oscar knows he shouldn’t care. It’s not like you promised to be here. And yet, disappointment settles heavy in his chest.

The barista on shift is nice enough, but Oscar barely listens as he orders. He can’t even remember what he picked when he sits down, staring at the drink like it personally offended him.

The café feels quieter without you buzzing around, chatting with regulars and teasing old Mr. Callahan about his crossword puzzles. The emptiness gnaws at him, and he knows he looks so obvious, sulking into his untouched drink.

He tells himself he’ll leave after finishing it. He lingers for an hour.

Oscar doesn’t look back at the café as he leaves, but he feels its absence like a dull ache. His hands are shoved deep into his pockets, chin tucked to his chest as he stalks down the street. 

He tells himself it’t stupid to feel this way. He doesn’t even know you. He definitely shouldn’t care if you’re there or not. 

And yet.

Fine. 

It’s over. He’ll get over it. 

He’ll spend the school term back at boarding school, surrounded by motorsport and homework and people who don’t know how to steam milk into a heart shape. 

It’ll be better this way.

At least that’s the plan.

He’s halfway home when he nearly collides with you on the footpath.

“Oh! Oscar, right?” you say, blinking up at him like he’s an unexpected surprise.

He freezes. “Um.”

“You left in a hurry. Not a fan of the other barista?” You tilt your head, a teasing smile tugging at your mouth.

Oscar feels like he might short-circuit. “I— I just noticed you weren’t there,” he blurts out, horrified as the words tumble out without permission.

Your smile grows. “Noticed, huh?”

“I mean—” He’s desperate to backtrack, but it’s useless. The damage is done. You’re grinning, and he can already imagine the relentless teasing he’d get if his sisters caught wind of this.

“You’re heading home?” you ask, mercifully letting him off the hook.

“Yeah,” he mutters, already planning to walk faster. Maybe he’ll get away with half-jogging the entire way. 

“Big plans for your last day of summer?”

He squints at you. “How’d you know it’s my last day?”

You tap your temple. “I’m observant.”

“Or you got it out of Hattie.”

“Maybe,” you say, shameless. Then, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world: “Wanna grab a bite at Albert Park?”

Oscar blinks. “What?”

“There’s a food truck that sells the best fish and chips,” you explain. “It’s not too far. C’mon, it’s your last day home.”

“I—” He should say no. He was just lecturing himself on the walk back. 

But you’re looking at him like it’s not a big deal, like you’re not aware of the internal war waging in his head, and Oscar’s resolve crumples like paper.

“Okay,” he hears himself say, voice tight.

You beam. “Cool.”

Oscar follows you to Albert Park, his heart thudding with every step. He wonders if he’ll ever forgive himself for agreeing to this. Or if, maybe, it’ll turn out to be the best mistake he’s ever made.

The fish and chips are at least good. Better than good, actually, and Oscar begrudgingly tells you so between bites, like the admission costs him something. 

He tries to be subtle about how much he likes it, chewing carefully, but you notice anyway, your grin bright and uncontainable.

“Told you,” you say smugly, elbow propped on the table as you pick at your fries. “You doubted me, didn’t you?”

“I don’t usually trust people who enjoy serving coffee for a living,” he deadpans.

You laugh, and the sound rattles through him like a loose bolt. “Fair,” you concede. “But I’m right about most things, so you should get used to it.”

Oscar snorts but doesn’t argue. He’s happy enough to let you fill the gaps in conversation, listening as you ramble about everything from the café’s horrible playlist to how the Albert Park sunset is always a little better in the summer. 

He only nods and hums, content to let your words fill the space between bites.

But then you flip the script.

“So,” you start, resting your chin on your hand. “When do you start boarding school again?”

“Monday.”

You make a face. “Brutal.”

Oscar shrugs. “It’s not that bad.”

“Sure,” you say, dubious. “And racing? How’s that going?”

His fingers pause around a chip. “You remember I race?”

“I’m not some ditzy barista, you know.” You tilt your head, like you’re studying him. “I know you kart. Or, karted?”

“Yeah,” he says slowly. “I moved up to junior formulae this year.”

Your eyes widen. “That’s huge, right?”

“I guess.”

You nudge his foot under the table. “Don’t be modest. It’s cool.”

He looks away, that telltale heat prickling at his collar again. “It’s not, like, F1 or anything.”

“Yet,” you point out.

Oscar smiles, small and self-conscious. “That’s the goal, I guess.”

“You guess?” You feign offense, sitting up straighter. “You guess? Come on. Say it with your chest.”

He laughs, shaking his head. Then, a little louder, a little firmer, “I want to drive in F1.”

“See?” you say, satisfied. “Not so hard, was it?”

Oscar’s throat tightens around the next bite. It is hard— saying it out loud. It makes the dream sound ridiculous, even when he knows exactly how much he’s giving up to chase it.

It makes it sound real. 

But you don’t tease him. You only smile, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“That’s awesome,” you say. “Can I have your number?”

Oscar nearly chokes. “What?”

“Your number,” you repeat, leaning back with an easy grin. “Would be cool to have a future F1 driver on speed dial.”

He huffs out a laugh, assuming you’re joking. You must be joking. People don’t ask for his number.

Oscar doesn’t give it to you, brushing it off like it’s nothing, and you don’t press. The two of you linger at Albert Park until the sky blushes purple, talking until Oscar’s curfew has him bidding you goodbye. 

It’s only when he’s halfway home, kicking at loose gravel on the footpath, that it hits him like a freight train.

You might’ve actually been serious.

Oscar groans, dragging a hand down his face.

He never does figure out if you’d meant it. 

He reconciles with the fact that he’ll only see you in the summers and during off-seasons. It becomes a rhythm he slips into with practiced ease, like shifting gears without thinking.

His sisters’ teasing remains relentless, but he endures it because they’re right— he can’t seem to stay away from the café. 

It’s a quiet sort of comfort, walking in and hearing your voice floating through the space, catching snippets of your conversations with regulars before you inevitably drift his way.

He contemplates asking for your number or your socials more times than he can count, always catching himself at the last second. The thought lingers like an engine idling, never quite stalling out but never revving forward either. 

He tells himself it’s fine. The café is your domain, a fixed point in the chaos of his ever-moving life. 

It’s fine. It’s enough. It has to be. 

In the break before he transitions into Formula Two, you place his usual non-coffee drink on the counter with a different sort of grin.

“You’re looking at the new owner of this place,” you announce, voice light with amusement. “The old man decided to go on a lifelong cruise. Said he wants to see the world while he still can.”

Oscar blinks. “He gave you the café?”

“Left it in my name. He figured I’d been running it anyway, might as well make it official.” You tilt your head. “What about you? I saw the news — Formula Two, huh? That’s huge.”

“Yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s... a step closer.”

You lean against the counter, eyes warm. “Congrats, Piastri. Guess we both got what we wanted.”

He smiles and mumbles a quiet “Congrats to you too,” but as he takes his drink and watches you serve other customers, he’s not sure how true that statement is. 

Because he thinks about how your name is tied to this café now, how you belong to this little pocket of Melbourne while he chases circuits around the world. 

And he wonders— for the first time, with startling clarity— if what he wants might not be as far from this place as he thought.

Oscar doesn’t have time to dwell on it. 

That’s what he tells himself, anyway. He’s too busy. Too preoccupied with the whirlwind of signing with McLaren, of finally reaching the dream he’s been chasing since he first wrapped his fingers around a steering wheel. 

He celebrates with his family, his sisters loudly teasing him, his parents beaming with pride. It should be enough.

But then he finds himself at the café, hovering by the entrance, fingers curled around the door handle.

The bell jingles when he steps inside, sharp against the hum of the espresso machine. You glance up from wiping down the counter, eyebrows raising in surprise.

“We’re closed in ten,” you call out, drying your hands on a dish towel.

Oscar nods, shutting the door behind him. The sleeves of his hoodie are shoved up to his elbows, hair mussed like he’s been running his fingers through it. His heart is pounding, and he tells himself it’s just leftover adrenaline from the day’s excitement.

“I know. I just—” He falters, mouth opening and closing before he finally blurts out, “I got signed. With McLaren.”

You blink, then toss the dish towel onto the counter.

“Wait, what?”

He barely gets a nod in before you’re circling out from behind the counter, barreling into him with enough force to make him stumble back a step. Oscar stiffens at first, arms hovering awkwardly around you— then he exhales, tension seeping from his shoulders as he wraps his arms around you in return.

“Holy crap,” you say, squeezing him tight. “You did it. Oscar Piastri, you’re a Formula One driver.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, like he’s still trying to believe it himself. His voice is quieter when he adds, “I wanted to tell you in person.”

You pull back, beaming up at him. “I’m so proud of you. Seriously. I can’t wait to see you race.”

His heart thuds against his ribs, too loud, too fast. He drops his arms when you do, shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie.

His face feels hot, but you don’t seem to notice, already launching into a ramble about how you’re going to make the café play the races on the TV in the corner.

Oscar watches you talk, nodding along, though he can’t really process your words. All he can think about is the way your smile had split your face, how easily you’d hugged him, how your arms had fit around him like you belonged there.

He leaves that night more certain than ever.

This crush isn’t going anywhere.

Oscar privately decides he’ll use the feelings to his advantage. A secret, unspoken fuel source. It becomes most obvious at his first-ever home race.

The roar of the crowd fades into static beneath the hum of his engine, but he knows they’re there. Knows the grandstands are packed with fans waving papaya flags, knows somewhere among them are his parents and sisters— and maybe you.

He pretends you are. Imagines you leaning forward in your seat, hands cupped around your mouth as you cheer. He thinks about how you’d probably tease him later if he botched his first home race, how you might promise him a pity pastry from the café if he placed last.

That thought alone keeps his foot steady on the throttle.

He crosses the finish line in eighth, his first points in Formula One. The team is ecstatic, patting his back and ruffling his hair until he can barely breathe through the congratulations. 

Later, at the house, the celebration is in full swing. His family is buzzing with excitement, and the living room is littered with leftover food and streamers. Still, Oscar keeps glancing at the door, brow furrowed. 

He tells himself the weight in his chest is only exhaustion, not the ridiculous, misplaced disappointment that you aren’t at the post-race party.

“What’s your problem?” Edie asks, plopping onto the couch next to him.

He shrugs, pretending to focus on the race replay flashing on the TV. “Nothing. Just tired.”

Edie snorts. “Yeah, sure. You’ve been looking at the door like a lost puppy. Thought you’d finally get your act together and invite your favorite barista?”

Oscar flushes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh.” Edie smirks, then gestures toward the kitchen. “They sent stuff, by the way. Practically wiped out their stock.”

He blinks, heart thudding as he follows hsi sister into the kitchen. The counter is packed with pastries and drinks, each one carefully labeled. A small, folded note sits on top of the pile, your handwriting unmistakable.

For future world champion OP81. I’ll save a spot on the TV for your podium finish.

Oscar stares at the note for a beat too long, then flips it shut, like that’ll stop the embarrassing warmth spreading through him.

He’s suddenly, overwhelmingly glad you’re not there, because he might’ve done something incredibly stupid. Like kissed you.

Or worse— asked you to keep a spot open forever.

Oscar’s schedule is relentless, though. An endless cycle of races, travel, media obligations. He still makes it back home when he can, even if it’s just for a few days. The café becomes a pit stop as routine as visiting his parents.

He never stays long, though. He catches glimpses of you between customers, exchanges pleasantries, hears about you secondhand through his sisters’ chatter.

Edie mentions you started taking a business course. Hattie swears you went on a date (Oscar pretends he doesn't care). Mae tells him you got a new coffee machine.

But it’s never from you.

Until one evening, when he swings by the café, and you ask him to stay until closing.

His heart lodges itself in his throat.

The café empties out, and Oscar helps you stack chairs and wipe tables. His fingers jitter against the rag, adrenaline buzzing under his skin like he’s on the starting grid. He wonders how he’ll respond when you confess, how to let you down gently when he inevitably leaves for another race weekend. 

(He also can’t stop imagining what it would be like to kiss you.)

When you finally sit him down, your words knock the air out of his lungs.

“The café might close,” you say, tone steadier than your hands wringing your apron in your lap. “Rent’s gone up, and I just... I don’t know if I can keep up."

Oscar stares, words dissolving before they can form. He thinks about the old man who first owned the place, about you proudly taking over. He thinks about all the hours he’s spent lingering here, all the drinks you’ve made him, all the moments he’s stolen just to see you.

The idea of it all disappearing feels like a punch to the chest.

“I just thought you should know,” you continue, voice quieter now. “You've been coming here for years, and— I don’t know, I guess I wanted to thank you for that. For being a loyal customer.” 

Oscar frowns. “I’m not just— I mean, yeah, I like the café, but…”

You smile, but it’s small, tired. “I know. But still. It means a lot. And hey, we had a good run, right?”

He hates the way you talk like it's already over.

Without thinking, he reaches across the table and covers your hand with his own. You flinch, just barely, before curling your fingers around his.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, like it’s something you should apologize for.

“Don’t be,” he says back. 

He doesn’t know what else to offer. And so he holds your hand, and the two of you sit in relative silence.

Oscar tries not to think of this being the last time he’ll get to do this. He resists the urge to study the weight of your hand, because then that would be admitting to a certain kind of preemptive loss. 

You close up shop, the two of you lingering outside the café under the glow of the streetlights, hands still linked. The night air is cool, the streets quiet, and it feels like you’re waiting for something.

Oscar doesn’t know what.

He racks his brain for words, for solutions, for something that might make you stay, but all he comes up with is static. The same helplessness he feels when a car failure knocks him out of a race.

You give his hand a gentle squeeze. “Good night, Oscar.”

“Good night,” he says, his fingers tightening around yours for a fraction of a second before he’s letting you go. 

He watches you walk away, the distance stretching between you like a rubber band about to snap. And— as usual— he doesn’t realize what to do or say until much, much later.

But he knows you’ll forgive him for this one.

It takes some convincing, some pulling of strings. In the end, he doesn’t know if he even manages it. Not until he’s back in Melbourne for the prix, and Lando is bringing him closer to the spot he’s tried to avoid all morning. 

“New caterer this year,” Lando says, peering at his phone. “Some local place. Looks sick.”

Oscar feigns interest, even as dread pools in his stomach.

He lasts all of twenty minutes before Lando physically drags him to the hospitality area. Oscar immediately clocks the familiar pastries, the neat line of carefully curated drinks— but it’s the sight of you, grinning behind the counter, that sends his pulse into overdrive.

“Oh, this is dangerous,” Lando jokes. “I might never leave.”

Oscar, meanwhile, contemplates leaving immediately.

You spot him mid-pour, your smile faltering. And Oscar knows he’s screwed.

The confrontation comes after Lando flits away, croissant in hand, leaving Oscar cornered by the espresso machine.

“You.” You jab a finger at his chest. “You did this.”

Oscar glances around him. The Netflix boom microphone is gracefully not around. No one from his team is, either.

He allows himself this small joy of bickering with you. “Technically, McLaren did this,” he says dryly. 

“Bullshit.” Your eyes narrow, but there’s no real venom. “You got me this gig so I could afford to keep the café, didn’t you?”

A corner of his lip twitches upward. “You’ve got no proof.”

You stare at him for a beat, then you let out an exasperated sigh. That smile of yours— the one that has ruined Oscar for everyone else— threatens to break on your face. “I could kiss you, you know,” you say, and he privately wishes you’d run him over with a car instead. 

You’re kidding. You sound like you’re kidding. But Oscar isn’t fifteen and stupid anymore. The only thing that hasn’t changed from back then is the way he feels for you, and it’s what has him finally giving in.

“How about I give you my number first?” he says. 

It takes you a moment. A full thirty seconds to realize what he’s getting at.

When it does hit you, though, you laugh. “A couple years late, Piastri,” you jab. 

Oscar dares to meet your eyes. He hopes it doesn’t show on his face— the way his heart is clenching in his chest. 

His voice is quieter when he says, “Please tell me you still want it.”

Your smile softens. 

He braces himself for a gentle denial, a spiel about friendship. Instead, he holds his breath as you fish for your phone. 

“Put it in before I change my mind,” you say, sliding it across the counter. Your coolness is betrayed by just the hint of giddiness in your tone, because you’ve wanted this for as long as he has, haven’t you? You hadn’t been kidding back then, and you still want this. 

Still want him. 

Oscar fumbles to type his number, adrenaline roaring louder than any engine. When he hands the phone back, your fingers brush his, lingering just a second too long.

“Good luck out there,” you tell him.

Oscar doesn’t feel like he needs any luck. 

Not when he finally, finally got the win that mattered most. ⛐

[peachylynnie]

what jewelry they like on you

word count: ~300-400 per lead contains: lads men x non!mc reader, established relationship, they all adore you, jewelry descriptions, fluff, suggestive themes (sylus, rafayel, and caleb), and did i mention fluff? make it toothrotting. a/n: it's midterm season so headcanons it is. again, these are headcanons so i'm not saying i'm right. just my silly little interpretations. inspired by my impulsive buy of a bracelet the other day. no, my wallet hasn't recovered. reblogs and comments are always appreciated! tagged: @vvintqz (a little headcanon for xavier, lmk if u want me to stop tagging) lads masterlist

sylus

necklaces all the way

has a preference for silver chains with red or black charms

it's his signature colors on your pretty neck

loves it even more when the charm rests between your collarbones

if you want his nose to bleed, wear a long necklace

yes, the one that goes all the way down to your chest

but if you really want to get him going

wear a choker

doesn't even have to be a chain type or have charms

if it's a choker, he'll fold, like dogs to a bone

you can't blame him

it enticingly accentuates the rest of your neck and collarbones, the two places he likes to leave marks on

don't worry if you're hypoallergenic (like me)

he only ever gets you the finest of materials, even if you point out the cost

not that you mind or anything

"sylus," you whine.

you're going to be late. again. all because of this silver-haired man who's refusing to leave your neck alone.

"sylus!" you gasp when he tugs down the choker, his dewy lips taking advantage of the newly exposed spot.

you're starting to regret wearing a choker (not really). you thought it went well with your outfit. and it did! it added a little pop to your look, and you were excited to wear it for the first time in a while.

"hey!" you squirm in his embrace when you feel the poke of his teeth. "no marks!"

"does it really matter, sweetie?" he asks nonchalantly before continuing his assault on your neck. he loves how his tongue occasionally meets with the smooth fabric of your choker. "this," he tugs on it some more, eliciting a soft whimper from you. "will cover them."

sighing, you make a mental note to apologize to your friends for being late when you meet them.

xavier

earrings

especially studs or the mini drop ones that come in cute graphic designs.

there's just something about the way the adorable little charms hang from your ears

really, he thinks they complement your face shape

and he loves to cup your face whenever

but when you wear the ones that are star-themed

he's looking at you as if you're the one who hung them up in the night sky

seriously, he's never seen anything more beautiful

it also strokes his jealousy (?) in a way (cuz yk he's all abt the stars)

but that's worth like...less than 1% of the experience

he just really loves seeing you wear them

don't worry if your ears aren't pierced

clip-ons are a thing, and he'll make sure to get that ones that are both high quality and comfortable

he also loves watching you put them on

his cheeks hurt from smiling too much. he tries to cover his rosy face when you lean towards the mirror.

you're adjusting the backing of your new star stud. furrowing your brows, you tilt your head to the side for a better look.

xavier swears he's never seen anything more beautiful in his life. here you are, making something so simple as adjusting an earring look so skillful and charming.

"done!" you secure the backing and spin around to show your boyfriend. "what do you think?"

"yeah," he nods softly. "i think you're glowing."

you giggle and embrace him tightly.

"thanks for surprising me with them," you chirp, peering up at him.

the stars on your ears shine. no different from your eyes.

"anything for you, starlight," he whispers, stroking your cheek with a thumb. "anything for you."

rafayel

bracelets

listen

we all know this man is a FIEND for our hands

i may not have all of his five-star cards

but tell me why it is that in all the ones i have, he's YEARNING for our hands at some point

jumps at every chance to help you put one on

has a thing for cuff bracelets

like the metal swirly ones that hold a jewel in the middle

they exude the sense of royalty in a way (he's a god so)

most definitely has designed some for you too

and by some, i mean numerous

what's really heartwarming about that though is that he collects the materials himself

the amount of seashells he has preserved for you

but back to him being down bad for our hands

there's something about the way cuff accompanies the bare skin of your wrist and gently presses against your pulse

he's in heaven whenever he nuzzles against your wrist and feels the cool metal graze his heated skin.

"wait," you squint at the bracelet rafayel just secured around your wrist. "did you design this?"

"yup," he answers with a puffed chest. "good eye, cutie. how'd you know?"

you roll your eyes lovingly.

"first of all, i'm your partner, raf." turning your wrist, you admire the intricate swirls of the cuff. "second of all, your works normally have a trademark."

"oh?" he grabs your wrist and pulls you to him, his lips already tracing your wrist. "and what would that be?"

you try not to shudder when his siren eyes meet yours.

"isn't this from one of your lemuria collections?" you shakily gesture towards the sapphire seashell crested on top. "you always reference lemuria in your works, right?"

"wrong," his tongue darts out, savoring your quickened pulse as punishment for your incorrect answer. "it's not just lemuria i always reference in my works."

he tightens the cuff.

"it's you, cutie."

zayne

rings

he loves the subtlety of them

especially the ones made out of thinner bands

they bring out the beauty of your fingers

he loves the way they shine whenever you move your hands too

let's say the two of you are at a cafe

sitting across from each other and reading novels

except he gets distracted (in a good way) whenever your flip a page

your ring glimmers in the sunlight that's peeking through the window

oh wow, not only is there a halo over your head, there's a halo around your finger too

he can't help but reach out at some point

and trace your left ring finger

imagining what it would be like to gift you one

a simple one that conveys an impactful message

one he hopes you'll say yes to

and bound not only both his and your left ring fingers

but also your souls to each other

"zayne? are you alright?"

he snaps out of his thoughts, lifting his chin from his palm.

"sorry," he apologizes as smoothly as he can. "could you repeat that?"

you smile endearingly. his heart beats rapidly.

"i asked if you were alright."

"yes," he answers before clearing his throat. "yes, of course. why?"

"oh, it's just," you giggle. "you're still tracing my finger."

zayne immediately retracts his hand.

"sorry," he apologizes again. this time profusely. "did i make you uncomfortable?"

"no, no," you immediately reassure. "i liked it. it's just you were doing it for a while..." you pause before continuing. "i thought you were checking for dead skin or something."

zayne blinks.

"you thought i was checking for dead skin?" he repeats incredulously.

you nod slowly. now it's your turn to be flustered.

at that, he chuckles with a shake of his head and returns to tracing your left finger, ignoring your amusing assurances about how you always wash your hands thoroughly.

yes, he's most definitely going to marry you.

caleb

anklets

this totally wasn't inspired by that one scene in the main story where he pins our leg down with his evol

nope not at all

i don't know what you're talking about

he likes the ones that come with dangly charms

this is because he can hear you whenever you move

interpret that however you want

but really, he loves how the sound gets louder and louder

because that means you're moving TOWARDS him

he wants to gift you a whole bunch of charms

specifically apple and sky themed

it's over for him if you wear it while your legs are exposed

that man is on the floor, his hands haphazardly roaming up and down your bare skin

and when he notices the anklet with the charms that he gifted?

it's over for you

his fingers are slipping underneath the anklet, wrapping around your ankle, and pulling you to him

where's his face at?

uhhhhh

you're trying to control your breathing. you really are. but it's hard to when there's a man, an incredibly gorgeous one with lavender eyes deep enough to engulf you whole, settled in front of you, specifically in between your legs.

thankfully (not really), he hasn't done anything yet. he's just kneeling there with his metal fingers snaked around your ankle and his eyes transfixed on the anklet you decided to wear.

"uhm," you start, nervously shifting on the couch. "is there something wrong with my ankle, caleb?"

he finally looks at you. you can't tell if he's angry. definitely not with your foot resting against his broad shoulder.

"nothing's wrong, pips." he speaks after an eternity.

you sigh in relief. eager to get out of this compromising position, you try to put your foot down. keyword: try.

"caleb, what-"

"when did you put the charm on?"

"oh, uh," you notice him looking at the anklet again, but more at the apple charm. it has a snake coiled around it. "a while ago? i think as soon as you gave it to me."

he breathes in sharply.

you think it's over when he releases you. you're proven wrong when he grabs both of your ankles and drags you to the end of the couch, his chin dangerously close to your core.

"you really don't make it easy for me, pips."

[twistedpink]

I have like an unusual amount of dad!asks in my inbox rn, and they’re all sauve/responsible types, but what about your goofy guys? The ones that complain about “the ol’ ball n chain” at work only hours before worshipping you with a level of husbandry that can only be taught through backbreaking cuddle deprivation?? IM SO NORMAL ABOUT THEM SHUT UP (reader is implied afab- talk of “your” kids. Maybe he gets pregnant idk)

Husband!Ace HATES doing dishes with every fiber of his being, but he also likes getting fed.. Decisions, decisions,, Very into the “good cop/bad cop” routine. He’s good cop, obviously, but he sucks up after every tantrum you handle with the same puppy eyes he shares with your runt. It’s especially effective after he cuts out alcohol for fear of your kiddie getting high off of more than just life, and he gets hottttttttttt,,, Totally a neighborhood dilf- You’re guarding him like a particularly sexy discount, and he loves it <3 If you have more than one kid he makes a joke of “running out of options”. Naturally, he names the kid after Riddle for the bit. It backfires so completely that everyone’s calling him some kind of angel, and Riddle 1.0 contributes to the fucking college fund. His life couldn’t be worse if he tried.. At least his spouse’s still hot <3

Husband!Ruggie in two words. Grill. dad. And he looks good doing it! He’s literally living the dream,, Stable job, loving marriage, and just enough kids to keep him busy well enough into retirement- If you’re looking for anything productive being done on the weekend, you won’t find it at the Bucchi house. He’s done his time, but he’s always excited to ignore work emails! The fridge is fully stocked, and at your insistence he’s way too involved in HOA politics. The two of you are also totally couple goals- All your friends can agree the Bucchi’s are the people to call for birthdays. The only issue your kids ever have are overeating and toy theft.. Wonder where they got that from? (DAD BOD RUGGIE DAD BOD RUGGIE UGHHHHH)

Husband!Floyd’s just thankful you didn’t accept his proposal in Highschool,, He can admit he wouldn’t have been a good partner then, and that’s okay, because he makes up for it now. He works remote, always snacking and in range of his shrimpy for bad days- Plenty of cuddling, and so much clinging it’s rare to see either of you alone in public. He immediately attaches to your kids the same way- always sleeping in their rooms and kissing on their baby faces,, despite how hard he worked to get the big family he’s wanted, I imagine you probably had to go through IVF or surrogacy for any success on account of biological differences. This really shows in their childhood before it’s safe to take any transformation potions,, It’s torture to just observe the baby from outside their aquarium, but Floyd’s present enough for two until they’re old enough for a whole new world <3

¡Bonus!

Husband!Epel’s the only teenage dad on the list, and you guys got hitched QUICK after meemaw chewed him out for reckless sex- Even if it got her the perfect in-law. Gets all muscular after college, and keeps you whipped with those hip muscles that make a V. Ends up having more little girls than he knows what to do with. They all play winter sports at their dad’s behest, and he damn near shoots any boyfriends on the property. 7/10

Husband!Idia gets to live the housewife dream- Gaming pc next to your work computer, and a full 30 minutes of blissful silence when your little power naps after hours of Daddy plays! and Freakin’ bots!!,, He had to quit swearing when the baby started mumbling less than pg first words, but they fist bump when kiddie can avoid getting grounded by “the final boss”- So all thing’s considered, your player 3’s not so bad after all. (He’s still mourning the loss of his limited edition “Magic Rumimi- Sakura dreamscape” figurine, but give him a couple years and it’ll blow over.) 8/10

Husband!Lilia’s never been able to get this vulnerable with anyone. EVER. He’s working on it with his own kids, but it’s much harder to communicate with a toddler, especially when half-fae aging is SO sporadic. They’ll both have to watch you age, but your light never dims, and he’s getting all the pictures he can! Your baby/ies grow up in a home so full of love it’s embarrassing, and there’s always memories to look back on fondly of time well spent <3 10/10

@bju3c0re @kyokills @rinship

[joeyfranchise]

love is the tuesdays

joe burrow x fem!reader

summary: joe asks your dad for his blessing to marry you, and then he reflects on what love really feels like.

warnings: it’s all fluff 🥺 but mdni with my page, thanks!!

word count: 1.4k.

note: i listened to tuesdays by jake scott and i was immediately inspired to write this. the song has such beautiful storytelling and it just reminded me of joe, so i needed to write it for you all to read. italicized bits are lyrics from the song.

this summer would make two years since you and joe became a couple. 

you met him through your job, a small non-profit in cincinnati, where you occasionally took trips to paycor stadium to oversee events that involved the bengals organization and their players. 

he was quiet at first, but always polite. he had the kind of smile that could light up a room, the kind that would knock the wind right out of you. he thought the same thing about you. 

he was enamored with you almost immediately, the grace with which you handled yourself and the way you spoke so softly, the way you made everyone you talked to feel important. he always enjoyed the days he’d get to see you around the stadium, your presence became somewhat of a comfort for him, even though he barely knew you. 

when he finally worked up the courage to ask you out, you accepted immediately, harboring a little crush on him yourself. you loved his laugh, when you’d see him goof off with his friends… in your eyes he was perfect, and he felt the same about you.

the rest was history.

since the first date you’d become inseparable, soaking up all the sweet moments you’d get with each other and falling deeper and deeper in love. that led joe to this moment. 

you’d left for a business trip a few states over to help with a fundraiser, promising joe you’d be back in a few days time. he dropped you off at the airport with a sweet kiss and a light tap on the ass, which you scolded him for while simultaneously laughing. 

once you were gone he went home, grabbed up his things, and drove to your hometown with the intention of talking to your parents, specifically your father. 

joe had everything already planned, but he needed your dad’s blessing. he wanted to propose to you on the anniversary of your first date. he brought the ring with him as well, hoping your mother could give him a bit of insight on it. 

when he arrived your parents were shocked, but he pleaded with them not to tell you he’d come by and that he planned on staying for a night. 

“what brings you by, son?” your father had asked, raising an eyebrow at joe suspiciously. “not that we mind, of course,” your mom added, “just a bit unexpected.” 

“well, sir,” joe began, fiddling with his fingers as he spoke, “i was hoping you and i could talk about something… maybe privately. sorry mrs. y/l/n.” 

your father agreed, wrapping an arm around joe’s shoulder and leading him outside. your mother didn’t mind. she’d tell them later she knew all along, something to do with a mother’s intuition. 

joe and your father sat down together on the porch swing, and your father kicked his legs out to set it into motion. “so, are you gonna ask for my blessing?” your father questioned, a knowing smile spread across his face. 

joe was taken aback by the question, but he only let his confidence falter for a moment. “yes sir, that’s why i came here. i love your daughter so much and i want to marry her, and i know it means a lot to her to do things traditionally. so i’ve come to ask for your blessing and for whatever advice you can give me.” 

“it’s been twenty seven years since i married her mother,” your dad started, leaning toward joe a bit, “and i wouldn’t change a single thing. what i’ll tell you is this… love is the tuesdays.” 

joe looked perplexed by your father’s admission, simply asking him “what do you mean?” 

your dad smiled again, resting a calm hand on joe’s shoulder. “what i mean is, it’s not always picture perfect dancing in a white dress. it’s not just rainy days when nothing stops the fighting. it’s not just highs and lows. it’s everything and all that in between. love is the tuesdays. if you want my blessing, kid, you’ve got it. but you had better treat my girl right.” 

joe extended a hand for your father to shake, which he did with a firm grip. “i promise i’ll treat her right,” joe assured, “i love her more than anything.” 

“i know you do. she feels the same about you,” your dad said, before hopping off the swing and heading inside. joe came in a few minutes later and spent the rest of the evening just going over his plan to propose to you, where he’d do it and how. 

your mother teared up at the amount of thought joe had put into this, he knew how sentimental you were and he wanted every detail to be absolutely perfect. he admitted he didn’t care much for tradition, he’d marry you at the courthouse if it meant you’d be his forever, but he knew what it meant to you. that’s why he took the time meticulously curating every detail, and he knew it’d bring a smile to your face. 

your parents enjoyed talking with him, but eventually they went off to bed, bidding him a good night. joe headed off to your childhood bedroom to get settled in for the night, hoping he’d be able to talk to you for a bit before he went to sleep.

the two of you got a few texts in, followed by matching ‘i love you, goodnight’ messages, and then joe locked and plugged in his phone before rolling to his side and closing his eyes, hoping sleep would find him. 

as he tried to relax, your father’s words replayed in his mind. love is the tuesdays. 

joe thought for a moment about what that meant. and what your love meant to him, what your relationship did for him. he realized that your love is breakfast thrown together, or sleeping in his high school sweater. 

he always enjoyed those perfect, comfortable mornings when you didn’t have anywhere to be. you’d make your coffee and sit by the window, staring out at the view as you sipped the warm liquid, often with a book in your hands. you loved wearing his clothes, especially to sleep, and joe thought you were the most beautiful in those soft sweet moments. the way your hair cascaded down around your shoulders, your eyes still puffy from sleep. the way he could see you physically relax as soon as you took a sip of your coffee, your comfort in a cup.

when you’d finish you’d take it to the sink and start on breakfast, whatever he wanted for the day, and you’d eat together as you planned out the rest of your day, and even sometimes your week. 

joe realized that love was the season three you’re watching, a little bit of evening walking, and sitting with your best friend talking.

he enjoyed watching any show with you, he loved your reactions and your sensitivity, how you were prone to cry at any given moment. 

he loved going for quiet walks after dinner at night, given you both had the free time. the crickets would chirp around you as you walked hand in hand, sometimes stopping to twirl in the street. 

he loved seeing you sit and talk with your best friends, how your smile would spread across your face as they made you laugh. love was sitting with his best friend, too.

ja’marr had told him many times, “you’re different around her, burrow. light. i like that.” 

joe liked it too. he knew troubles would come, and that it wouldn’t always be easy, but he wanted every moment with you. in sickness and in health, to have and to hold, for richer and for poorer. 

your fathers words echoed in his head again. “you’ve got my blessing… but love is the tuesdays.” 

he finally fell asleep, and when he woke the next morning he had a small breakfast with your parents before grabbing his things and heading out, back home to cincinnati. he knew he needed to grab you from the airport the next day, and he wanted to be able to relax his nerves a bit before doing so. 

he made it home safely, and the next day he greeted you at the airport with a bouquet of pink roses, one of your favorite flowers. “how’s my girl?” he asked you, leaning in to kiss your forehead. 

“i’m great, the fundraiser went super well. how are you? did you get up to anything?” you asked, leaning into his side. a mischievous smirk spread across his face. “nah, i didn’t get up to anything. i’m just peachy!” he said. 

“alright, you’re being weird,” you said, eyeing him suspiciously. “what’s gotten into you? you’re creeping me out!” you laughed. “nothing, nothing. i’m just excited,” he admitted, pulling you back into him. 

“for what?” you prodded, expecting answers. 

you didn’t even know the half of what was coming. 

photos and dividers are not mine. all cred to owners.

taglist: @joeyburrrow @starsinthesky5 @joeyb1989 @kykysinlovewithafairytale @burrowdarling @loveyatopluto @toterry @unhingedfangirl @superheroprincess22 @burreauxsworld @slimshiesty @yelenasbraid

[cinnamanz]

✦ ─── 2 𝓱ands , 𝓢ophia 𝓛aforteza keep your hands on me.

─── 𝓢ophia never considered herself the jealous type—until you got a haircut. overnight, it was like the whole world had started seeing you differently, comments about how fine you looked haunting her everywhere. no wonder she'd bossed you to have your hands on her at all times.

❝𝓷eed a little less talk, 𝓪nd a lot more touch.❞

౨ৎ 𝓹airing. sophia laforteza x katseye seventh member!yn ౨ৎ 𝓰enre. fluff, established relationship wc. 4417 a/n. good god i need to stop yapping ab details in fics i keep dragging them on on the other hand, this is my compensation for lowk neglecting u guys nd not bringing food to rhe tsble but i fear its school thats got me on a leash nd unless smn takes one for the team nd burns my school down thisll be happening more nd more often CS EXAMS ND ASSESSMENTS R COMING UP NF IMA BAWL CS WTFFFF EVERYTHING IS TOO FAST IM SO LOST FUCKKKKKKK may or may not have taken too long to get to the part where its actually inspired by 2 hands mbmb the use of 2 hands's lyrics was lowk cringy😟 NAWT PROOFREAD AT ALL🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️ enjoy homos❤️

❝𝓲 just want your two hands on me at all times, baby. 𝓲f you let go, better put 'em right back, fast.❞

JEALOUSY WAS NEVER SOPHIA’S THING—at least, that’s what she always told herself. she knew you—her girlfriend, loved her. knew with every fibre of her being that you would never do anything deliberate to hurt her, never purposely stoke the ugly fire that smoldered deep in her chest. 

so why was it that, right now, the green-eyed monster clawed its way up her throat, curled around her ribcage, and blurred her vision like a stain she couldn't scrub away?

you’d gotten a haircut a few days ago—something sharper, something that framed your face so effortlessly it was almost unfair. it was the kind of change that ensured the girl crush label stuck to you permanently, as if it hadn’t already. and somehow, impossibly, it made you look even better—dare sophia say hotter—than before.

and safe to say, sophia wasn’t the only one who noticed. unfortunately.

the moment you turned to management and asked if you’d need a wig to hide your fresh cut from the eyekons before going live—like the other members had to in the newest tiktoks they were dishing out—their response was quick, casual—no need, you were free to show it off. gain more attention and eyes on the group before the comeback.

and that was all you needed to hear.

without a second thought, you propped your phone up on the table in your shared room with manon and daniela, fingers adjusting the angle with practiced ease, lips curling into a giddy smile. 

anticipation thrummed in your chest, an excited buzz settling beneath your skin as you ran a hand through your freshly cut hair, contemplating whether to hide it beneath a cap before settling to just tugging on the strings of your hoodie, tucking your hair out of sight from the camera.

the viewer count came rushing in the second you’d tapped ‘start live’, and your curious eyes peered at the camera, squinting to see what they’d been commenting about before shaking your head, a small chuckle of amusement spilling past your lips. 

user56 bro u look like an egg tf user1 humpty dumpty who?? user9 i think she pulls it off idk bout yall user0 ion care she can still get it even tho she looks like an idiot user2 i like them a little weird user89 GIRL TURN IT AWFFF

“i look like an egg like this? oh wow, that’s interesting. thank you.” you deadpanned, amusement flickering in your eyes as you read the comment aloud. a soft laugh slipped past your lips, shaking your head before tilting it slightly, as if assessing your reflection on the screen.

you kept the playful banter going for a few more minutes, responding to teasing messages with quick-witted remarks, occasionally tugging at the edge of your hood in mock offense. finally, you sighed, dramatic and drawn out, before giving in with a knowing hum. 

your fingers found the drawstring of your hoodie, twirling it lazily around one fingertip before tugging it loose. slowly, almost teasingly, you pushed the hood back, revealing the slightly poofy and mussed strands of your fresh haircut, the soft layers settling into place after being trapped beneath the fabric.

the moment your hair was freed, your hands instinctively shot up, smoothing over the mess, fingertips gently carding through the strands in an attempt to tame them. a small mirthful chuckle escaped you, a mix of amusement and mild exasperation at the way the hood had left your hair slightly disheveled. 

but even then, you still looked effortlessly good. and judging by the flood of excited comments rolling in, and eyekons definitely agreed.

"we vibing with it, chat?" you murmured, tilting your head slightly as your fingers absentmindedly combed through your hair, trying to smooth down the strands that had been ruffled by your hoodie. 

your lips pressed into a thin line, dissatisfaction creeping in as you examined your reflection on the screen, the messiness making your fresh cut look a little less put-together than you had intended.

"shouldn’t have actually hidden it away from you guys," you admitted with a soft sigh, shaking your head. "or it wouldn’t have been this messy."

your hands worked quickly, gently pushing some strands into place, but after a moment of struggling, you huffed in mild frustration. deciding to leave it as it was, you leaned forward, reaching for your glasses resting on the table. with practiced ease, you slid them on, blinking a few times as your vision sharpened.

"my bad, guys," you said, lips twitching into a sheepish smile as you settled back into place. "couldn’t be assed to put on my contacts."

user90 raw raw ah ah ah or wtv it was lady gaga said user56 okay guys fess up who tf took my pants user4 iSWEAR my pants were just on user77 and the crowd is… undressing themselves⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️ user78 omg girl dont play w me like that i might js make u mine user43 and FUCK whoever’s dating u bruh u look too good ima nut get OUTTTTTT user68 thank GOD my phone’s waterproof‼️‼️‼️ user70 TIL THE NEIGHBOURS LEARN HER NAME😭😭😭😭 user45 FLASH US

the chat exploded with reactions—some gushing over how good you looked, others teasing about your laziness, and more than a few keyboard smashes from people who were clearly losing their minds over the combination of the new haircut and glasses. 

you chuckled at the chaos, pushing your frames up the bridge of your nose before relaxing into the moment, letting the eyekons take it all in.

sophia who was watching just downstairs, however, wasn’t all that amused with the comments that flooded your live.

it was a jumpscare, truly. the moment sophia groggily unlocked her phone and opened tiktok, still blinking sleep from her eyes, she was met—ambushed, really—by an edit of your live from last night. the screen instantly flooded with clips of you, your freshly-cut hair falling effortlessly into place, set to the smooth, sultry beat of redbone by childish gambino.

typical, she thought dryly at the sound choice, but that didn’t stop the way her breath hitched slightly.

the light from her phone bathed her face in a bright glow, illuminating every tiny movement of her fingers as she instinctively scrolled down, her thumb hovering over the comment section before she could even think twice about it. she already knew what to expect, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating.

and sure enough, the comments were just as bad—if not worse—than the ones from last night. thirsting, keyboard smashes, people losing their goddamn minds over you. all of it blurred together in an overwhelming stream of admiration, and sophia could feel a familiar, unwelcome heat creeping up her neck.

because, god, of course everyone had to notice how good you looked. and of course, they wouldn’t shut up about it.

it didn’t help that the next few swipes on her for you page led to even more edits—clip after clip of your live from last night, set to sultry, slow-burning tracks that only seemed to emphasize just how good you looked. 

the way your freshly cut hair fell into place, the way your glasses slid down the bridge of your nose before you pushed them up absentmindedly, the way you’d smirked slightly at the camera without even meaning to—it was all there, replaying in high definition, edited to perfection, and worst of all, everywhere. god.

sophia groaned, flopping onto her back as she mindlessly scrolled, but she wasn’t about to just watch and let it slide. no, she was documenting this. saving receipts.

in less than an hour, she had added over fifty different edits of you into a private folder under your name, her fingers moving almost on autopilot. every new clip she found—save. another slow zoom-in on your face—save. a dramatic transition to the beat drop—definitely save.

by the time she was done, she was sure she had absolutely flooded the eyekons’ notifications, her name popping up repeatedly as she went on her little jealousy-infused saving spree.

but she didn’t care. not even a little.

because in her mind, this wasn’t just a collection—it was a statement. a quiet, possessive claim, a subtle way of reminding the eyekons exactly who you belonged to. every save, every tap of her screen, was her way of saying: watch all you want, but just know—she’s mine. and wait—no, no, no. jealousy is bad. an ugly feeling she shouldn’t be feeling. 

but the moment you’d walked into her shared room with yoonchae all mussed from sleep and seeking her out first thing in the morning, sliding into bed next to her, body molding onto hers and—to hell with it.

she’d decided to go live the next day out of pure boredom and cause chaos (unbidden flirting).

clad in an oversized black hoodie—one she had definitely swiped from your closet without asking—sophia lounged comfortably in front of the camera, the fabric swallowing her frame in a way that made it clear it was never hers to begin with. 

the sleeves fell just past her wrists, slightly bunched at her hands as she lazily adjusted the hem. paired with it was a black baseball cap, probably one of the few articles of clothing she actually owned, its curved brim casting a subtle shadow over her sharp features.

her free hand drifted to the waistband of the grey sweatpants she was wearing—another piece that was, without a doubt, stolen from your closet. with a quick tug, she adjusted the way they rested on her hips, ensuring they fit just right before letting her hand drop.

user44 GOOD GODDDDD user88 that hoodie looks rlyyyy familiar ms laforteza user51 SOPHIA LIVE OH GOD BLESS😭😭😭😭😭😭 user50 can u be my girlfriend for three seconds user41 BROOOOO I NEED U SO BAD SHUT UPPPP user32 how have u been sophia???

her lips curled into a small, satisfied smile as she glanced at the screen, watching the comments flood in—messages filled with excitement, teasing remarks about her outfit, and, of course, plenty of people calling her out for very obviously wearing your clothes again. she simply raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence as she leaned in slightly, skimming through the chaotic flood of words.

but she didn’t deny it. not once.

it wasn’t until halfway through the live that the shift in the comment section became impossible to ignore. at first, it had been the usual chaos—people gushing over her, teasing her about the hoodie, and thirsting over every little movement she made. but then, as if on cue, the flood of questions about you started rolling in.

user55 hey queen so whats the deal w y/n?? is she single perchance😌😌😌 user63 is y/n there w u??? user80 is y/n single?? asking for a friend nd research purposes🌚🌚 user66 blink twice if y/n is in the room

mixed in with those were the more audacious ones—the teasing, flirty messages that made sophia’s jaw clench ever so slightly.

user90 how does one marry y/n?? help a girl out pls user82 can i marry y/n??

“no, you can’t marry y/n.” she’d replied, her fingers, which had been lazily toying with the hem of her hoodie, stilled. she blinked at the screen once. twice.

narrowing her eyes, she hooked her fingers under her chin, tilting her head slightly as she peered at the comment section with squinted, unmistakably disapproving eyes. her lips pressed into a firm line, and for a moment, she just stared, letting the weight of her silence settle over the chat.

and if the eyekons watching had any sense at all, they’d know exactly what that look meant.

“what’s that about me?”

sophia’s eyes snapped up from the screen of the live the moment she caught movement from the doorway, her sharp, narrowed gaze instantly softening at the sight of you.

there you stood, bathed in the dim glow of the room, your expression puzzled as you tilted your head slightly, brows knitting together in mild confusion. dressed in baggy clothes—an oversized hoodie that hung loosely over your frame and sweatpants that pooled slightly at your ankles—you looked effortlessly comfortable, the kind of effortlessness that made sophia’s chest tighten just a little. 

your prescription glasses perched on the bridge of your nose, a clear sign that it was far too late in the night for you to bother with contacts. in one hand, you loosely gripped a bottle of water, your other hand absentmindedly brushing at your sleeve as your bare feet padded quietly against the floor, carrying you toward her without hesitation.

completely unaware.

unaware of the absolute chaos happening in her live chat. unaware of the thirsting, the borderline feral comments flooding in, the way the eyekons were already losing their minds over the mere mention of your name. and most of all, unaware of the way sophia was staring at you—conflicted.

because in that moment, she wasn’t sure what she wanted more—to selfishly keep you out of the frame, away from their prying eyes, or to let them see you, let them understand exactly why she looked at you the way she did.

but before she could make a decision, you made it for her.

with an easy step forward, you popped into the frame, completely oblivious to the digital uproar you had just caused, a sweet, sleepy smile tugging at your lips as you greeted the screen. 

"hi, eyekons," you murmured, voice thick with sleep, raspy in a way that sent an immediate shiver down sophia’s spine. "how’re we doin’ tonight? good?"

your words were slow, unhurried, tinged with the warmth of drowsiness as you blinked at the screen, adjusting your glasses with a lazy push of your knuckle against the frame. your lips curled into a small, satisfied smile as you nodded, as if genuinely pleased by the flood of chaotic responses rolling in.

user77 girl i cant do ts rn im ovulating bad user66 standing ovulation or wtv the saying is user62 heyyyy so lunch by billie eilish?? user79 MY DREAM RIDE😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻 user39 WHATT HEJVUKFMFK WHAT THEUCKVLVMK user50 CLEAN UP ON AISLE MY PANTS😭😭😭😭😭😭 user99 cldnt even edge to ts i exploded IMMEDIATELY😂😂😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 user34 the crowd would applaud but their hands are busy😭😭😭 user14 i swear my pants were JUST on

"i’m glad," you hummed, voice dipping even lower, softer—dangerous.

sophia didn’t stand a chance.

the moment the sound of your voice filled the room, she could feel the heat crawling up her neck, warm and betraying. without thinking, she subtly turned her face away from the camera, pretending to adjust her hoodie as she desperately tried to will away the blush creeping onto her cheeks.

but of course, you noticed.

your gaze flickered toward her, amusement dancing in your sleep-heavy eyes, and a quiet chuckle slipped past your lips—gentle, teasing.

"what’s with you?" you asked, voice lilting, but sophia refused to look at you, choosing instead to stare pointedly at her phone as if it could somehow save her from this situation.

it absolutely could not.

“nothing,” she tried to fib through her teeth. her face was half-hidden from the camera, but you knew her well enough to picture the exact shade of pink dusting her cheeks, the way she’d press her lips together in a tight line to keep from giving herself away. “don’t worry about it.”

a slow, knowing smile tugged at your lips, though you chose not to push any further—for now. instead, you shook your head in amusement, eyes twinkling as you took in the rare sight of sophia, who was normally so composed, absolutely crumbling before your eyes.

"someone’s suddenly a little camera shy," you mused, voice dipping into something teasing, playful.

sophia let out a quiet huff, still turned away, fingers absentmindedly tugging at the hem of the hoodie she’d stolen from you, as if focusing on that would somehow help her regain her composure.

and for a few minutes, she did just that—taking slow, measured breaths, schooling her features back into something neutral, forcing the heat in her cheeks to die down. when she finally popped back into frame, her expression was much steadier, though the faintest traces of pink still lingered on her skin.

thankfully, the purple lighting she’d chosen for the live worked in her favour, casting a soft glow that helped mask the last remnants of her flustered state. she busied herself with scrolling through the chat, acting as though nothing had happened, her posture relaxed, exuding an air of practiced nonchalance.

or, at least, she tried to.

because just as she started to settle back into her usual rhythm, her brows twitched—barely, but enough—as her ears picked up on something that immediately set her back on edge.

"oh, baby, you’re too sweet," you purred, your voice dripping with playful flirtation as you read a particularly bold comment from an eyekon. "but if you keep talking to me like that, i might just have to take you out on a date."

user51 MY TURN user23 A TEAR ROLLED DOWN MY LEG user89 OHMGYGOD IVOLUNTER ASTRIBYTE user62 RAWRAWRARAWRARWRAW user94 THISMADE BOTH OF MY LIPS SMILE user42 raw i meant AWWWWWW user82 this so made my hole weak I MEANT MY WHOLE WEEK user42 i am not cinderella but ik it fits user51 born to cowgirl, forced to fangirl💔💔💔💔💔 user41 i have nothing appropriate to say HER VOICE UGHHHHH user17 i finally got the water bed everyone wanted in 2016 user88 good now OIL UP user33 YOU GUYS ARE ABSOLUTE ANIMALS IN HERE WTF ENOUGH GUYS ENOUGH YOU HORNDOGS user21 all ten fingers.

sophia froze.

her grip on her the drawstring of your hoodie tightened slightly, her jaw ticking as she forced her gaze to remain on the screen, pretending to be invested in the chat. 

but anyone who knew her—especially you—could see the barely concealed flicker of irritation in her expression, the slight way her nostrils flared, the way her fingers twitched as if she were this close to reaching out and physically covering your mouth to put an end to whatever nonsense you were spewing.

she knew you were just playing around. she knew it.

but that didn’t stop the possessive heat from curling low in her stomach, nor did it stop the subtle shift in her posture—back straightening, shoulders rolling back, as if preparing to stake her claim without saying a word.

user1 guys im kinda scared of sophia user79 SHES LOOMING HELPPP user52 guard dog who user93 damn sophia my b for even looking at yn user84 im gna sleep now okay?? dont choke me in my sleep pls user77 I WAS JS PLAYING W YN PLS DONT KILL ME user91 holy shit i js got shivers down my spine

sophia hadn’t meant to react so quickly, so instinctively, but the second another flirtatious comment slipped past your lips, she couldn’t hold back anymore. before she even registered what she was doing, her hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your arm in a vice grip—possessive, unwavering.

your amusement only grew at the sudden contact, lips parting slightly as you turned away from the chat, gaze landing on sophia. her expression was downright murderous, eyes dark, pupils blown wide with a sharp intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

without a word, she yanked your arm toward her, grip tightening as if to silently remind you who you belonged to. both of her hands locked around your forearm now, as if afraid you’d slip away if she loosened her hold even slightly.

and then—thud.

in her urgency, her knee jerked forward, slamming against the table. the impact sent her phone tumbling forward, landing screen-down with a soft clack, the camera immediately blacking out. the live was still running, but now all the eyekons could hear was the sharp rustle of movement, the sound of fabric shifting, a muffled noise—

because in the very next second, sophia had tugged you forward, pulling you straight between her thighs with a force that left you momentarily stunned. and before you could even process what was happening, her hands were on you—one threading into your hair, fingers tangling at the base of your skull, the other firmly cupping the back of your neck, anchoring you in place.

and then she kissed you.

no hesitation, no teasing buildup—just pure, unfiltered need.

it was all-consuming, the way she melted against you, the way her lips moved with a desperation that sent your mind reeling. 

she kissed you like you were her oxygen, like she had been starving for you this entire time—which she has been to be fair, and now that she had you, she refused to let you go. her fingers tightened in your hair, tugging slightly, as if to draw you in even closer—though there was hardly any space left between you.

but just as you were getting lost in the heat of it—just as you felt yourself melting into her touch—she suddenly pulled away, her hands shifting to your shoulders.

and then, without warning, she pushed you back.

you barely had a second to react before your back hit the couch once again, a soft groan escaping you as sophia moved fast, swinging a leg over your waist and straddling you with ease, her knees pressing into the cushions on either side of your hips.

you blinked up at her, breathless, dazed, lips still tingling from the kiss. but she didn’t give you a moment to recover. the rest of the world faded, the chat, the live, the teasing—nothing else mattered except this. except her. just like how she’d intended. and she leaned back in for more.

user77 HELLO??? WHAT IS GOING ON user51 GET ME OUT OF THE BASWMENY user11 BTCHCICHFUHFIE WTAFFDTFYE WHAT IS GOIUNG ON HELLO user78 I HEARD THAT user12 smn pick me up im scared user82 bon appetite to sophia ig user94 AT LWAST END THE LIVE????? user73 am i interrupting sumn user93 freak ON user44 media training went out the window im crying theyre not even tryna hide it HELPPP user25 probably making out in my cellular phone i pay for every month??? diabolical work i feel targeted.

sophia had no idea how she’d ended up here—pressed into the middle of a drunken, swaying crowd, the bass thrumming so hard it rattled her ribs, the air thick with sweat, alcohol, and the kind of recklessness that came with too many shots and too little self-control.

this was not what you had promised.

"it'll be chill," you’d said, smiling so sweetly at her earlier, brushing your fingers through her hair as you reassured her that it was just a casual going-away party for your friend—nothing too wild. 

but now? some random guy had the audacity to press up against her, subtly—or not so subtly—trying to grind against her like she wouldn’t notice. like she’d let him.

with an irritated grunt, she shoved him off, barely sparing him a glare before weaving through the crowd, jaw clenched. she barely knew your friend, didn’t care to, really. she wouldn’t even be out of bed right now if it were up to her, more than happy to be curled up under the covers with you, watching mamma mia back to back before switching to your personal favorites—until the two of you inevitably dozed off.

but no.

you just had to have plans. just had to drag her to some bullshit party for a friend jetting off to europe to “find the woman of her life.”

sophia cursed under her breath, her usually calm composure cracking as frustration simmered beneath her skin. her hands itched—aching to grab ahold of you, to pull you against her and make sure every single person here knew you weren’t up for grabs.

the flashing, colorful lights of the room made everything simultaneously too bright and too dim, disorienting her as she searched. the pulse of the music did nothing to drown out the growing sense of urgency clawing up her spine.

she should’ve never let you out of her sight—oh, there you are.

sophia could feel it creeping in—the sharp, insidious burn of jealousy sinking its claws into her chest, wrapping tight around her ribs like a vice for the second time that week.

surrounded by a cluster of women, all too eager to lean in, to bat their lashes, to laugh a little too loudly at something you’d said—something that, knowing you, probably wasn’t even that funny. yet there they were, hanging onto every word, eyes lingering a little too long, bodies angled a little too close.

her jaw clenched.

her vision blurred at the edges, tinted green with something she refused to name, but it propelled her forward before she could think twice, her feet carrying her straight to you, drawn in like gravity itself had shifted. 

she slipped through the crowd with practiced ease, a mask of indifference settling over her features like second nature—calm, cool, unreadable. but beneath the surface? she was nothing but raw chaos.

without a word, her fingers curled around the fabric of your shirt, tugging you back, away from them, to her. her hands moved instinctively, slipping over yours, guiding them down, redirecting—staking claim.

she flattened your palms against her waist, holding them there, her body pressing into yours like she needed you closer. always.

“want your two hands on me at all times, baby.” sophia's voice was a low murmur, silk-smooth and deliberate as she tilted her head back, lips just barely grazing your cheek before trailing toward your ear, a slow, teasing whisper meant for you—but performed for the lingering eyes around you.

“and if you let go, better put ‘em right back fast.” her grip on your hands tightened, guiding them to press firmer against her waist, as if daring you to even think about moving them away. her fingers curled around yours, possessive, a silent command to stay put. her heart pounded, a steady rhythm against your skin. 

"want your two hands on me.” like my life needs saving, she’d have dared utter if she wasn’t too lost in the way your breath hitched, fingers twitching against hers.

and maybe it did.

she leaned in closer, lips just barely brushing the shell of your ear, her breath warm and slow, sending shivers down your spine. “let ‘em all know.”

her hand ghosted back, fingers featherlight as they traced along your jaw before tilting your chin up just enough to meet her gaze, dark and unreadable.

“can you do it like that?”

masterlist.

— please do not repost, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way without permission. thank you! xx

[ninasodiiva]

what's next in your love life?⋆. 𐙚 ̊

PAC reading

hii babesss, i hope you're doing good and having a wonderful day! today i was in a romantic mood after binge watching pride and prejudice edits on tiktok (yass girl procrastinate your homework!) so to debut my blog im sharing with you this pac reading all about what's next in your love life. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

how to choose a group:

take a deep breath and relax your body, look at all the pictures and pick the one you are the most drawn to, don't think about it to much. you might be attracted to the picture or the number. REMEMBER this is a general reading, take what resonates and leave what doesn't. nothing is set in stone. if you are not drawn to any of the pictures this might not be the reading for you loves. that said, let's get into it!

- group 1: pink rollers 🎀

as soon as I started the reading the song "Love Like You" from Steven Universe started playing on shuffle. and after laying the cards i noticed the synchronicity between the song and your reading so go listen to it! babes im going to be 100% honest... im feeling most of you feel stuck, like nothing happens and your love life is pretty much non existent and let me tell you why.

you still want your ex or past fling back. you are being extremely stubborn because you have romanticized them to death, you think that person is the one for you and trust me please... they are not. many cards regarding cheating and toxic patterns have come out and your spirit team and your higher self is asking you to let them go, they are not the one for you. i'm being shown a really codependent energy from you (for a few of you to the point of letting the other person dictate what to do with your life, friendships etc) it's like you don't believe yourself capable of making your own decisions and riding the wave of life. i'm being shown that picture of a dog begging for chocolate without knowing eating it can kill him. You have put this person on a pedestal and beg for they attention and love like a lost puppy, and it makes me really sad cause i see that you just want to feel appreciated, but babes please listen to me... that person is NOT for you, i'm feeling a really controlling energy from them. not all attention is good and deep down you know that this person uses you for their convenience, they have you when they feel like it and they're playing with you BAD. some of you could have grown in a family where no one paid attention to you, so subconsciously you feel in order to have love you have to earn it by pleasing others and letting them cross your boundaries... well (without sounding reckless) i feel you have no boundaries at all my loves and we have to work on that!!!

you have to listen to this song, specially the last part where she gives a small speech, you need to hear that ੈ✩‧₊˚

your next chapter of your love life might not be what you expect but it is most certainly what you NEED. you are entering this learning phase, where you will question your patterns in all aspects of your life but mostly romantic wise. it's a beautiful season in which the veil to your true self will be opened thanks to the self concept work you are doing (if you are not doing it, this is the sign to start, i don't want to see you like this no more). it's a time for learning valuable lessons that will align you with your own path, your true self and a true love. you are discovering what it means to love yourself, cause let's be real, nowadays putting a face mask and some candles it's considered "self love" but in reality it's about accepting yourself, the light and the dark, and knowing that you might not be the person you want to right now... but you possess the power to transform into the precious being that's hidden inside of you, scared to come out. journal your thoughts (write them for you be truthful with yourself), start that hobbie you have wanted to for a long time, call that friend/family member and ask for help, start being YOU babe.

your life is a movie be excited for it, sometimes your up sometimes you're down but that's the cycle of life. how lucky are we to feel emotions in the first place! be the master of your own fate, and give yourself grace while doing so babe 🩷

lots of love and strength, Nina 🦢୨୧⋆｡˚

group two: love letters 💌

my group two, welcome gorg!

well right away i have to say you have a beautiful energy, and you reading was so clear. so let's get into it.

my love what i heard is that right now you are embracing your single life on purpose, you are done with waiting for someone to come into your life, done with dealing with immature people who only disturb the peace and temple you built. i'm seeing you are a mix of charlotte and samantha from sex in the city and girl i love that for you! i see you literally shinning ✨ you are in your element. i'm hearing the song "aquamarine" by Addison Rae. "i'm not hiding anymore, i won't hide" and "the world is my oyster, and i'm the only girl", well listen to the complete song because it resonates 100%, OUUU PERIOD

thanks to that change in perspective your life is taking an exciting turn for the best!!! because you finally know your worth!!

what's next for you in your love life is options, attention and fun!! your energy rn is so magnetic and hypnotic, you're someone i would like to be friends with. you are expanding your horizons maybe traveling (doesn't have to) but i see you so so SO abundant. your social life is improving a lot, like i see you receiving TONS of attention cause you are feeling yourself (yass girl). you ended a cycle of desperation for love and you're now sitting on your throne enjoying the view. expect new friendships, new options, new flings (if that's what you're into). people will be startstruck with you it's insane. nonetheless it's important for you not to take this time for granted and stay true to yourself, stay strong in your boundaries and be careful with the options you are given, not all of them are for you make sure to use your intuition and discernment.

now i'm also seeing for my babes that are interested in relationship only a possible suitor coming in as a result of all the options you are getting, he is one of them. he could be a water sign (doesn't have to), a really empathetic and gentle person full of passion and honestly very very romantic. i see him watching you from afar. the attraction here is REALLY high and although i'm not being shown much information i do see commitment here. spirit is being secretive about this person, you don't need to know much right now let it be a surprise!

babes i'm so so excited and happy for you, you deserve this after a long hermit period. enjoy the spotlight!!! let me know how things unfold and please keep shining like your doing now 🪄🤍

lots of love, Nina 🦢୨୧⋆｡˚

group three: heart locket 🔒💗

hi my loves, welcome to your group! let's dive in.

babes right now you are in a healing period, i have a feeling you know that already and you're totally embracing it. that is good, don't resist it <3 i feel you moved on from a situation or person that left you hopeless and heartbroken, i know how hard sitting with those feelings is and to that i have to give you your flowers for the work you are doing in healing and building yourself back up! your strength is admirable, but your spirit team is here asking you to slow tf down lol.

you see, healing it's not linear and although that perseverance of yours is a gift, it's harming you more than helping you rn. you are not a problem that needs fixing, and my loves i feel you are carrying TONS of burdens by constantly wanting to heal.

the next chapter you are stepping into is asking you to slow down, be present and FEEL your emotions, don't analyze them. spirit is saying that by doing so you will notice the signs they are sending you and the advice they want you to take to help you at this time. babes you are like a chicken without head running around confused, like you're running out of time?? give yourself grace, slow down, breathe please 🤍 divine timing is at play here, trying to heal faster won't bring you your next love tomorrow.

remember that no matter what age you are, you're still that little kid you once where, that child is inside you hearing all those thoughts. imagine they are in front of you, how would you take care of them? ☁️ spirit is saying this chapter is very much needed, you have to love yourself TRULY cause why wouldn't you? there is NO reason not to love yourself love, you are protected spiritually, the only thing your spirit team wants you to do rn is to REST, slow down, take time out and feel your emotions. they have it all under control, let go of control issues and trust them pls 💌

something about family issues is showing up here so that might resonate to someone, also they are asking you to be open minded when it comes to love (don't worry you will end up with your true match).

my loves that's is everything, i feel your pain because i've been there and i promise you that the advice spirit is giving you will help you! take time to smell the roses 🌹 love is everywhere, and im not trying to sound cliche, i understand the frustration of wanting to experience love! but you will never feel it they way you are meant to if you don't have that love for yourself. OMG i was hearing the song "get free" by Lana del Rey and it played right away whatttt. that's definitely a song you need to listen to.

lots of love, Nina 🦢୨୧⋆｡˚

[madamechrissy]

Took you Like a Shot

Pairings- Rich Frat/fuckboi Toru x Preppy Sorority reader

Summary- One VERY drunk encounter between your greatest rival ever - on your last day of college- leads to you being knocked up. Satoru Gojo, a fuckboy, fratboy, rich little jerk, has been a rival of yours since you all met in College, every damn grade you fought for he got with ease. He crashed every Sorority party you threw. The two of you are so infamous in your rivalry, your friend groups were rivals, and for some reason, life is playing some damn joke on you both. Now... you have to tell him the news - but how Satoru takes it surprises you. Can you both raise a baby together!? And do you even really know each other?

Contents/Warnings- gonna be flashbacks to the rivalry/that night, nerdjo but make him a fratboy, enemies to kind of begrudging partners, but then as the pregnancy progresses, they fall in love hehe (gojo is an idiot) MDNI - 4 parts (I THINK) in this chap-explicit sexual content, oral (m and f recieving) light angst, lots of feelings developing, Satoru is a lil shit but he's tryingg, cumplay, creampie, cervix kisses, mating press, flashbacks of their past rivalry- WC- this chap- 11k ( a lil longer one for ya) art in the banner by Yuana on X

Comments and reblogs so appreciated if you enjoyy <3 (extras headcanons here)

<<<Chapter One - Masterlist - Playlist- Chapter Three (soon)>>>

Chapter Two

One Week later

“Are you… are you high!?” You whisper, as Satoru Gojo steps out of the back seat of his car, grinning up at you, sunglasses covering his eyes, but when he tilted them down, they’re bloodshot, he winces as the sunny day hits them, his head pounding.

Maybe going to a party last night was a bad idea?

Fucking Suguru and Sukuna.

“What? No! Do they have good food here!?” He’s eyeing the restaurant eagerly, tummy audibly growling. “I’m starving.”

“Satoru, tell me you’re not blitzed before we meet my parents.” You hiss between your teeth, crossing your arms under your breasts, just drawing even his faded attention to them.

“Those tits, god they keep getting-”

“Nope. Answer me.”

He whistles, shaking his head, before he grins once more, lopsided and far too charming. “No way, sweets. Straight as… a whistle?”

“A whistle?” Your raised brow shows your obvious confusion, you lean over to sniff him, smelling no pot however.

“Damn baby, right here?” He’s chuckling at his own joke, he may look like a million bucks in this gray Armani suit, so damn gorgeous it’s ridiculous. “I’m fine I swear, and ooh… don’t you look good.”

“Um… thanks?” He lowers those glasses as you lead him over to the stairs. It's bustling and busy, nice but casual, not what Satoru was used to, but when you explain it’s your favorite place, he’s intrigued. “This way, you’ve met my parents, yeah?”

“A couple times.” He pauses as you step in front of him, staring at that ass in this fucking sundress, making his already fucked up state worse, as he remembers the first time he noticed that ass.

*****

Four years ago

“Well hello, pretty.” Came the slow drawl of the voice behind you, it’s your first day of college, you’re so nervous but excited, this was a big opportunity for a girl like you, a full ride scholarship so elite. You look around, seeing the white haired man whistling as he stares at your ass, his sunglasses perched on his straight nose.

“Gojo?” You ask then, since you all met Senior year of high school, he’d certainly never called you pretty.

His blue eyes lock on yours over his shades, blinking then, thin brows together. “When did you get such a nice ass?”

“A nice what!?” You turn now, shoving at his chest, which almost makes you blush at just how built he feels.

You remember seeing him shirtless playing basketball, dribbling that and dunking in school, but the two of you never talked, you were the new girl Senior year and quiet, he was as popular as it got. This year, you want to have a life, have friends, not just be the shy girl.

You have a plan.

And he certainly can’t fuck that up.

“I didn’t know it was you, shit, you been like… doing squats or-”

“Can we not talk about my ass? Also how was I pretty from the back?” He’s grinning, bright white snarky little grin.

“I bet it’s pretty from the back-” Smack. “Ow, what the hell!?”

“You are an ass, Satoru Gojo.” A crowd gathers, gasping as Satoru takes off his shades, a red mark on his face.

“Give a girl a compliment and she smacks you for it!? Prissy little brat.”

“I don’t want your pervy compliments, manwhore.” You hear the oohs and whispers rolling more and more, as he crosses his arms, smirking like the little shit he is.

“Pervy? No, you should be honored to have them by me, goody goody.”

“Conceited jerk! Ugh!”

“Little nerd!”

“Me!? Don’t you play Digimon!”

“Yeah but you play DnD.” You cross your arms now, glaring up at the tall handsome jerk of a man, in his stupid blue polo that brings out his eyes, very unfortunately.

“DnD is classy.”

“Okay dungeon master.”

“Ugh!” You both stomp off in different directions, as everyone disperses, already talking about the two of you, people who never noticed you in high school now saw the girl who slapped ‘the’ Satoru Gojo.

Satoru’s friends, Suguru and Sukuna come up to him then, as he rubs his cheeks, and he sees Utahime talking to you. “Oh great, she’s talking to the number one Gojo hater.”

“She smacked the shit out of you, dude.” Suguru snorts, clearly blitzed, where his eyes are white they’re bright red. Satoru rubs his cheek, as you walk off, that nice ass in those jeans jiggling just so, while your hips sway.

“Just told her she had a nice ass.” He grumbles, Sukuna and Suguru lean their heads to the side, whistling, earning you looking back at the three men.

“Really!?” You cross your arms, and they all snort in laughter.

“They’re pigs, I know. Hey, we should sign up for the sorority, don’t you think!?” Utahime asks, you bite your lip nervously.

“A sorority?”

“You’d do great, baby.”

“Shoko!” You both hug her, as she sucks on the tip of her cigarette, looking back at the boys and laughing a bit.

“They’re still staring at your ass.”

“My god!” You take off your hoodie then, wrapping it around your hips, flipping the three of them off, Sukuna and Suguru laugh, but Satoru’s just staring, blue eyes far, far too much to handle.

Blue eyes you fell into when you first saw him.

Before he opened his mouth, that is.

*****

Present Day 

The memories fade off, when you head up the stairs to the rooftop restaurant where you were meeting your parents for lunch, and you hear a low whistle as you step up each stair. You turn, hand on the railing while the breeze whips your dress around just a bit, when you see him staring right at your ass.

“Satoru!”

“It’s getting bigger, pregnancy is kind of hot on you.” You gasp now, as he’s licking his lower lip, eyes traveling up your body.

“I’ll smack you!” You whisper, turning and leaning close, while his hand now comes to rest on your waist, feeling far, far too good.

“It’s a compliment, Pookie, relax.”

“I’m not your ‘Pookie’ and-” He pinches your ass now, earning his smack, but this time he dodges, before casually strolling up the stairs, hands in his pockets, as you’re fuming and stomping along next to him.

“You’re a brat.”

“A brat!?”

“Never could take a compliment for shit.”

“A big ass isn’t-”

“There you two are!” Your parents wave you two over then, and Satoru puts an arm around you with ease, waving and grinning, hand precariously close to the ass that has driven him insane since the first day of college.

“Hey guys!” You greet, grinning but whispering through your teeth. “I’m gonna kick your ass later.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time now.”

“Gojo! What a… surprise.” Your mom looks at you curiously, you haven’t told them yet, but surely seeing you with Satoru Gojo was a shock. He smiles with ease, taking her hand and kissing it with a wink, as if he’s a gentleman and not someone who just pinched your ass.

“Hey there, Gojo.” Your dad says now, shaking his hand, and you both sit across from them, as the pretty waitress flirts right with Satoru, he ignores her and has an arm draped around your waist.

He plays a very good boyfriend.

Maybe his arm feels a little too good?

Pregnancy hormones, surely.

“You don’t want mimosas?” Your mom asks curiously then, as the waitress offers the bottomless special, you shake your head, and Satoru’s blue eyes assess you carefully, your hand flitting to your stomach.

You already were sacrificing, sure it’s just drinks, but he’d gotten blitzed the fuck out last night, something about that feels off to him. He can’t pinpoint or place it, when you take his hand in yours, it feels too good, your warm hand so tiny compared to his own huge hands, he falters for a moment, mind all over the place until he sees the shock on your parents faces.

Oh shit.

You just told them!

“Pregnant!?” Your mom says far too loudly, and you see the curiosity of those around you, shushing her then. “What!? How?”

“You wanna know how? Take a guess mom.” Your eyes narrow, and then your mom sighs, as your dad still blinks in shock.

“With… Gojo?” Her assessment turns to Satoru then, who’s gulping down his own icy drink, some rainbow frozen concoction, so fast his head hurts, he holds it then, whimpering.

“Brain freeze, ouchie!” He’s screaming out, earning more looks, as your mom turns back to you, watching the six foot four man waving his arms like he’s caught on fire, a question on her lips.

“Him though? Honey…” You sigh then, standing up and cupping Satoru’s face then.

“Open up.” He opens his mouth now, as you press your thumb against the roof of his mouth, to the avid attention of the entirety of the rooftop now, when Gojo sighs in relief, blue eyes fluttering open, meeting yours.

“S’better!” He mumbles, you laugh then, you can’t help it, damn him if he’s not amusing and… freaking cute, pouting like a puppy around your finger.

“It’s a trick I learned.” He’s tempted to suck on your finger then, so much he kind of does, making you heat up, pulling back and wiping his drool off your dress, as you both sit back down, and your parents look at each other.

“Oh.” They both say then, making the two of you blink in confusion.

“Oh what?” You ask.

“I guess I see it now.” Your dad’s words fill you both with confusion, but you have to admit, it works in your favor, too.

“Yes we are… together.” You say softly, scooching your chair a little closer, when Satoru’s hand rests on your thigh, burning your skin with the contact.

Pregnancy hormones, right?

Nothing else… yeah?

“We are, and she’d like to keep it.” Gojo’s soft words surprise you, making you meet his gaze, wondering then- “Gonna be a Satoru junior!”

“Satoru junior!? What if it’s a girl?”

“Still Satoru. Oh wait, Satoruette.”

“Oh god,we are not naming it Satoruette!”

Your parents laugh then, and the tension eases, soon your dad is talking to Satoru, and they’re speaking on sports, of course Satoru was also a star basketball player, amongst everything else. That’s one area you never were not missing too much, you cheered of course but it was not really your passion, also every game seemed to be some argument between you two.

“Are you sure about this, kids are a big responsibility, especially financially.” Your mom’s words hit you hard, you know that of course, and don’t take it lightly. “We can help some but things are a little tight-”

“No mom, no. This isn’t for that, though you can totally buy them some cute little toys or clothes if you want.” Her eyes get misty, as your hands join over the table. “This is just to tell you. I can do this mom.”

“But honey, your career…”

“I can do it. I know I can.” She sighs now, leaning over and brushing your cheek, Satoru watches the affection then and hears her words.

“Then I’m proud of you, I always am.”

God, what would Satoru do if he heard those words?

His parents barely gave him affection growing up, always on this island or this cruise, this country or that destination, never acknowledging how hard Satoru worked, just informing him of his duty. Taking over the business, college was useless to a family like the Gojos, maybe a nice decoration for that sky high office building just waiting with his name on it.

No straight A’s, no winning games, nothing got one tenth of the affection you just got for something that’s essentially not the best thing at your age. No, your mom is proud of you, and he watches your tears flow down your cheeks, realizing he’s seen you cry a few times now, but never in four years, while you’re smiling tremulously at her.

“Thank you mom. I needed that.” You’re on her side of the table, hugging, as your dad clears his throat a bit.

“Gonna make an honest woman out of her?”

“Dad! Satoru, don’t listen. Old fashioned man.” You tease, wiping off your cheeks and smiling so brightly, the sun hits your skin, skin that’s just glowing, and it makes his breath catch for a moment.

You’re beautiful.

He always knew you were banging hot, a little pretty brat, but he never realized until that moment, with everything glowing about you, that you’re beautiful too, an inner beauty that makes his fogged brain clear for just a moment. The crush he’d had for so long suddenly shifts into something more, even moreso than after the night you two shared that led to this moment.

“Are you okay, they’re a little extra.” He notices you’re right then, looking over to your parents and shaking his head.

“They’re great actually.” The sincerity in his voice hits deeply, you smile over at your parents, then back at him.

“They are, huh?” You grin, so clearly devoted to your family.

How must that feel to be?

So loved.

“So… dinner in a few hours with your parents, right? Should I dress a certain way?” Satoru’s demeanor shifts, you frown a bit at it, touching his shoulder. “You okay, this is a lot.”

“I’m fine.” He needs another hit of that blunt or ten before he deals with his parents, however.

“Are you gonna continue basketball, Gojo?” Your dad asks, Satoru sighs, frowning and rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“I can’t.” His words make you sick as you’re struggling to just keep water down, have you already fucked his dreams up?

“The baby…”

“No, no.” His hand sits on yours with far too much ease, like it’s been there in that spot for as long as you can remember, squeezing it. “Nothing to do with that. The family business.”

“Oh… I’m sorry, you were amazing though.” He smirks just a bit at that, you sure would never have said that back then.

“Ya think so?” You nod then.

“I was a shitty cheerleader.” He smiles.

“You were.”

“Hey!” You shove him playful\y, as the food is brought out, Satoru has ordered an obscene amount of food, already digging in. “Remember nationals?”

“Oh god yeah.”

Three years ago

Satoru and the team had almost won nationals already, and you and the cheerleading squad are on the sidelines, about to head into the center of the loud basketball court, the rubber of your cheer sneakers sliding just so, squeaky over the floor as you all prepare. Satoru has a bunch of girls all over him, snapping selfies, as he’d already secured their guarantee, so of course he was the MVP of the team.

You watched him avidly, how good he was, not that you’d admit it, especially as your fists go to your hips, preparing for the routine, and Satoru’s chuckling just a bit at you, smug expression on his stupid pretty face. You can’t stand him then, when he cups his hands over his face, shouting your name.

“You can do it.” He’s mocking, one thing you were not good at was fucking cheerleading. You couldn’t flip for shit and were afraid of heights, this was a terrible combination.

Some people laugh, as your friends pat your back, encouraging you. When the routine begins, and you’re up in the air, standing stiff, you panic, the room starts spinning damn near. You feel yourself lose balance, falling in front of a court with thousands of people watching.

And one loudly laughing.

You can’t cry, you can’t cry.

You brush off the helpful hands of your friends, hopping up and immediately regretting it, your entire body aches, and you see a bruise already forming along your knee, scraped up and dripping blood.

And he laughed at you.

God you can’t stand him.

You limp off when Satoru sobers up, seeing you’re clearly hurt, and runs towards you, pausing you before you run right out of there. “Funny, huh? You get a good laugh at me?”

You glare at him, eyes watery then, and he falters, instantly feeling terrible, he didn’t think you hurt yourself, and the fall was comical. It’s what you both did, make fun of each other, laugh and point when one of you fucked up, but even the side of your face has a blossoming bruise, which he touches, earning your trembling lip.

He’s never seen you cry.

“Are you crying?”

“Really, came here to mock me even now!?”

“No I…”

“I am not crying, and I’ll be fine. I quit.” You’re limping off, even when Satoru’s hands hit your waist, feeling far too good.

You shove it down, shove it all down.

“You quit, competitive ass no way.”

“I do.”

“C-can I carry you, to get it checked? The doc is here-”

“Carry me, what kind of joke is that, to make you look even better? The basketball court is full of quiet murmurs, many worried about you, and cooes of how sweet Satoru is. His blue eyes light up with fire as they narrow.

“You think I am asking to help so I look good.”

“You always care how you look. And you look perfect, you have the perfect life, and here I am - falling in front of a room - to you fucking laughing. I’m good.” You pull back from him, wincing in pain as your knee is swelling even more.

“You’re being a stubborn brat, you have to get checked. What if you-”

“Tell them I quit, if you wanna do anything for me. You won’t have to see me as often either, works out.”

“I…”

“Congrats on the win, I’m sure.” He watches you limp away, your friends running after you, eventually he walks back, your face haunting him.

Maybe if he didn’t taunt you?

Maybe if he didn’t laugh…

You clearly got hurt, thrown off maybe because of him, and he’s just left there, quietly informing the team you quit. When he’s back to his team, even they look at him a little seriously, his coach coming to tell him about sportsmanship, and how he shouldn’t laugh like that.

Satoru tried to apologize the next time he saw you, but instead of the banter, with your leg wrapped up, you turned and said nothing to him.

Shit he fucked up.

*****

Present Day

You are walking Satoru to his car, as you both have a few hours to go, while his mind whirls with regret, with memories of you. You had brought up nationals as a joke at how bad you were, but all it did was make him remember just how fucking horrible he was to you.

“What’s wrong, intense huh?” You look at him with concern he doesn’t really deserve, your dress blowing just a bit, earning you clutching some of the thin material in a fist.

“I was an ass that day. Nationals.” You look down now, taking a little breath, shaking your head.

“It probably looked funny-”

“No. I was an ass. I’m… sorry.” Your pretty face is frozen in shock, mouth wide open while you try to comprehend his words.

“You’re apologizing for something like that?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh…” You both stand there for a bit, when you remember how upset you were, god you two didn’t talk for months, a gnawing feeling growing.

Do you know him truly?

“Thank you for that. But, it’s the past, we shouldn’t dwell.” Your hand is soft on his shoulder.

“Pregnancy making you a mush.”

“Says you, apologizing for your past, like some Eboneezer Scrooge.”

“Pshh.” You both laugh a bit, before you clear your throat, dispelling some of the tension between the two of you.

“I’ll see you soon, Satoru.”

“Sounds good.”

Doesn’t sound good, his parents are not something he wants having you scrutinized, the cozy vibes of today will be long, long gone, he already knows.

******

“Holy shit… you’re… rich rich.” Satoru snorts, rolling his eyes as you two use the brass lion knocker that evening, twilight making the sky a myriad of purples and pinks, casting the softest glow.

“Yeah, the ‘richest in the state’.” He finds it all far too pretentious, but you can’t help but feel a mixture of intimidation, and awe, the high iron gates and gorgeous mansion in front of you, in the prettiest white with light blue there was, as if it was molded for Satoru’s color.

Could anything replicate his eye color?

Why are you thinking that way!?

“Are they alright with this?” You ask quietly, hearing the footsteps head towards the door, ever so slowly.

“They are… well you’ll see.” The tone, while he’s still blitzed the fuck out clearly, perhaps more, is dark for a simple dinner. “I already told them.”

“Oh… you did?”

“Yeah, when I found out, trust me, throwing you to the wolves is an understatement of my parents.” The door opens, after an uncomfortable long moment, the butler opens it and bows at his waist.

“Master Gojo, come come.” He claps his hands, nose literally up in the air like some damn commercial for ‘grey poupon’ or some shit. Satoru’s family home is even more beautiful on the interior, floors polished to a glassy sheen, white marble of course, along with dual winding steps, in crushed white velvet with mahogany rails.

Everything in here is impeccable, sparkling, chandeliers over head with the insanely high ceilings, you tilt your head back, to see the intricate work decorating it, swirls of gold and blue, like you’d see in old royalty. It doesn’t fit a damn LA home, as rich as the area is, no it’s damn near Versailles.

You swallow down a sudden lump of anxiety, when Satoru’s hand squeezes yours, gently, and you look at him. His eyes are slightly glazed, his jaw is tight, his grip reassuring, but the way he looks around, like he himself is uncomfortable in his own home, makes you realize how much he truly hates this place.

You never considered someone so privileged could feel this way, his utter disgust is clear as day. “I know, it’s overboard.”

“No, I mean it’s beautiful…” Your words trail off, because the butler has already led you to the dining hall, where a table so long it could fit fifty people is set for the four of you. You spot his mother and father at the end of the table, their expressions unreadable, but you know they’re sizing you up.

The chandeliers are dimmer here, the walls lined with paintings that belong in a damn art gallery, including a giant painting of Gojo, his father and you’re assuming his grandfather, so giant they take over the entire room. The atmosphere is so thick with tension in the air that you could feel your lungs crave fresh air.

Is this where he grew up?

The smell of surely a five star meal wafts over to you, but your stomach feels like it’s in knots, when you see the elaborate display, and you see Satoru’s mother. She’s got long silky white locks, but dark eyes, elegant and beautiful as she stands up, while his father has the exact shade of blue, Satoru is clearly the perfect mix of the two gorgeous people.

“Ah, Satoru, and you…” She addresses your name, a cold smile as she gestures for you to sit. “Come have dinner.”

“Pleased to meet you all, thank you.” You say politely, even as this feeling of being… in some petri dish under a microscope takes over. Satoru’s plopping down, making his father’s brows lower.

“Can’t pull out her seat?” He demands, and Satoru sighs, but you’re already sitting down.

“This looks so delicious, thank you.” You try to ease the tension, while you all follow into polite, menial conversation, their words feel practiced and hollow.

You think of your upbringing, a little cozy home, far from rich or fancy, but your mom cooked every night. And that little old kitchen table they still have, the one long past its prime, was filled with laughter, tears, or sometimes even lively debates between the three of you.

Not this.

“So, let’s cut to it.” You hear, while you’re nibbling on a bite of probably the best filet mignon you’ve had, but your fork clatters to your plate at his father’s words.

“Really, couldn’t give it twenty minutes?” Satoru’s words are icy cold.

You tense as you sit at the table, scrutinized to a tee, his mother and father’s eyes cooly assessing you up and down. “You have an amazing degree, lots of community activism, some sports it seems.”

“You… researched me?” You ask, his father shrugs.

“Of course we did, we need to know if you’re good stock.”

You nearly spit out your drink, Satoru’s jaw tenses so much you see a thin blue vein popping out from his jaw, pulsing under that skin. “She’s not an animal, the fuck you mean good stock. Are we breeding corgis?”

“You know what he meant.” His mom says, dabbing a handkerchief on her lips and sighing, leaning back to look at you. “She’s beautiful, and clearly intelligent, no record ever, unlike your long one.”

“Whatever a couple charges. And… so what, then she’s okay for your standard then?” Gojo says with a glare, as you heat up in embarrassment.

“She seems like she may be good quality, though her family isn’t exactly up to par.” You throw down your napkin then, standing, and Satoru curses, knowing you sure weren’t letting that slip. He murmurs your name, but you’re far gone.

“My parents are the best there are in the world.”

“They’re poor.”

“Poor!? They aren’t on the streets, they live in a fucking superb.”

“Bad language, check that off.” His mom murmurs, and Satoru blinks at their audacity, watching as his former rival - was it former? - fire sign brat - about to go unhinged, was so enjoyable his lips twitch in humor.

“Is there a checklist you’re keeping for me?” You demand, they look at Satoru then.

“She seems angry, is that usual?” His mom asks, earning Satoru’s smirk.

“She’s fiery is all.”

“Talk to me like I’m a person, stop acting like I’m a picture, someone who fits your son in your eyes.” They both falter a bit, watching while you’re crossing your arms now, he hears your heels click on the floor, echoing while he can clearly see the fury raging on your pretty face.

“We don’t disapprove.” His father says then, making you pause, as well as Satoru for a moment. “She… sorry, you seem like you have your life together. Squeaky clean, dean’s list, high up journalism opportunity. We are supportive of the two of you getting married.”

“Married!?” The two of you shout at once, you plop back down in your seat in shock, sipping water while they look at each other, then the two of you.

“Of course you’ll get married, the sooner the better before-”

“It’s not 1810, we won’t be getting married.” Satoru cuts in. “In the future perhaps, but it’s common for people to not marry.”

“That’s unacceptable for your position, and you know it. What sort of scandal would that cause?”

“Scandal this, image that, fuck it.” Satoru downs the glass of wine in front of him, shaking his head now as he answers his mother. “I’ll take care of the baby, but we aren’t getting married for your image.”

“I highly encourage you to change your mind, a marriage and baby would look good for the corporation.” Satoru rolls his eyes at his father’s words.

“Everything for the image, huh?” He smiles sadly, eyes hollow, and you realize then and there that you’ve never really known a damn thing about Satoru Gojo.

You pictured it, the rich boy he was, flaunting his wealth in shirts worth your bills for the month, how cocky and conceited he seemed, how foolish. But now it all starts clicking together like little puzzle pieces you can finally press together. How could he handle parents like this?

“We will help support the heir, regardless.” His mother says, a little softer, you watch as Satoru stands then, hands gripping the table tightly.

“I don’t need help, and we are not royalty, as close as you think we are, don’t call it the ‘heir’ please. I think I’m… full though. You?” He holds out a hand and you nod, placing yours in his, while his parents stand across the elegant banquet table as well, stiff and stuck up… and just cold.

“Satoru, we aren’t displeased you’re having the child, just the way you’re going about it. It’s uncouth.” His father’s words make him squeeze the fuck out of your hand, while he pulls you to stand.

“Uncouth huh?”

“You’re uncouth all together, you always are. When you’re supposed to be the pride of the family.” You glare now, yanking Satoru around, until you stand directly in front of his parents.

“Guess what, I’m proud of him, even if you aren’t, okay?” They gasp at your audacity, but Satoru just blinks, staring at you.

“You’re a mouthy little girl, aren’t you?” You laugh then, right at his mother, shaking your head.

“You’re going to be grandparents, you should focus on becoming good ones, huh? Not financially, either. Focus on being someone we can feel good about you being in their lives, about the coming over.”

“Well, we won’t watch the baby. We could pay for a nanny-”

“No.” You cut his mother off again. “All due respect Mr. and Mrs. Gojo, you need to get it together if you want to be in this baby’s life. No nannies, no being uppity, you need to support your son, okay?”

“We-”

“No, I mean really support him. He got straight A’s, he was a star basketball player, leader of his fraternity, now he’s stepping up to care for his baby. What more did you need to be proud of!?”

Satoru speaks your name again, tugging at you, while his parents frown then, staring at each other. “We should go.”

“Thank you for dinner, Mr. and Mrs Gojo. I hope I can see you all again.” You say now, holding out your hand, firmly shaking each of theirs, before you let Satoru pull you away, steps echoing through the elegant halls on those marble floors. Pretentious statues staring at you both the whole way, you can feel him, seething. “Shit, I said too much, I’m sorry…”

“Will you stop?” He’s pulled you past the door man now, until the two of you are finally outside, so he can breathe.

“How do you even handle them?” Your question makes Satoru laugh, without humor, while you all stand in front of the Gojo mansion, the night breeze swirling around the two of you, the moon so full and bright it’s illuminating his perfect skin.

“How do I handle them…” He’s shrugging a broad shoulder now, as the two of you wait for the car to arrive. “I didn’t have to very often, they weren’t around.”

“No wonder you…”

“No wonder I what?” He whispers, raising a thin brow now, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I shouldn’t say anything.”

“No, when have you ever held back, hmm little preppy ass brat?” It’s your turn to glare, crossing your arms.

“I wasn’t attacking you here, I was trying to be understanding, to… just try to get you, okay?”

“Why, do ya feel bad for me?”

“No!” You do though, shit. You feel horrible that those are his parents, not that they are cruel, they don’t care about him as anything other than a figurehead.

“Don’t feel bad, I have everything I ever wanted, right?” He uses your own words in the past against you, making you falter, blinking rapidly. “What’s that display, though, playing a girlfriend so well?”

“What display?”

“That you’re ‘proud of me’ or whatever.” He’s mumbling now, looking away from you, making the clenching in your tummy worse. “That’s feeling sorry.”

“That’s defending you, okay?” His eyes catch yours, more feelings than you ever expected to see from Satoru Gojo, eyes that were arrogant were swirling with more emotions than you could fathom.

“I don’t need you to.” You scoff now, shaking your head, biting on a lower lip he’s dying to kiss, a mouth he wants to devour, with every puff of breath in the cool night, he sees goosebumps along your shoulders and arms. He should offer you his fucking jacket, he should…

You’re touching his face, hand cool on his heated cheek, as you glare right up at him, making him ache to pull you against him. “If we are going to raise a baby together, we need to do a lot better than them. And we can do better, okay? I know you can.”

Satoru exhales at your words, blinking back emotions. “How do you know?”

“I just know, you’ll be more involved, you’re not like them, alright? You’re arrogant, you annoy me, you're a perverted little shit.” He laughs a bit, softly now, big hand wrapping your delicate wrist, easing off his face, but not letting it go. “But you’re not them, you’re just… Satoru.”

“Shit.” He pulls you against his hard chest, making you both falter, your own eyes darting to his lips, far too close when he leans down.

If he kisses you, you’ll melt.

“Say something dumb or pervy.” You whisper, he grins now, shaking his head, while his hand slips down your waist.

“There’s been one thing on my mind looking at you-” The car pulls up now, and he clears his throat, hands slipping down your cool arms. “Time for you to go home. Do you want me to ride with you?”

You nod then, sliding into the back of the black car with him, as he sends the address to the driver’s gps, leaning back, arm over the seat, so close to you, his long legs spread wide, brushing on your still chilled skin. You feel the warmth of him, as you fall into an uncomfortable silence, you can’t stop wondering about him, the boy you thought you knew.

You turn your head to find him staring right at you, openly, not the ogling stare of before, no it was so different. Contemplative, studying, heating you up everywhere it touches like his hands themselves are touching you, burning a trail everywhere they land, in the quiet dark of the car.

“What is it?” You murmur, biting back a moan when his hand touches your thigh, feeling so good you almost fail at concealing it.

“Beautiful, that’s what I’ve thought all day.” Your cheeks heat up, you look away then, words you’d never expect Satoru to say.

“What?”

“You’re beautiful. Okay?” His fingers brush your hair back, off your collarbone, trailing them across it then, as your chest rises and falls with every breath. “I can’t stop thinking about it, shit I always knew you’re drop dead gorgeous, but I guess today is the first moment I thought it.”

“You can’t-”

“I do mean it. Glowing, fuck.” He’s too close then, and you’re gulping, throat suddenly dry, inhaling that hundred dollar a spray cologne, intoxicating as it fills your senses.

“Satoru…” He’s exhaling, breath hot against your lips, lips you’ve bitten to death in attempts to hold back, what’s glimmering to the surface.

“We hate each other, I don’t want that, not for this baby.”

You blink rapidly, your own hand slipping up his chest, feeling his heart race as it does. “I don’t want it either. I want them to have loving parents, even if we’re not together.”

Together.

Satoru’s never dated, he’s had women in and out of his bed since he turned eighteen, sometimes multiple girls in one night, chasing some feeling that he has never gotten, except with you. But even after that night, he never contemplated it, dating someone, being with them, was he worthy of that, especially with you? He couldn’t even give you his jacket.

Suddenly he takes it off, making you giggle when he wraps you with it. “It’s not cold inside the car, silly.”

“I suck, I’m an idiot and… I am not a gentleman, at all.”

“Satoru…” He shakes his head as you cut him off.

“No, it’s true. I was fucked up before an important day for us, and I couldn’t even give you my jacket tonight when I saw you freezing.” You pull it closer, when he’s brushing a hand under it, right on your waist, sending shivers down your spine.

“You’re doing fine all things considered, I wasn’t kidding. I am proud that you stepped up, it means a lot to me, okay?”

“Don’t be so nice.” You glare, making him moan softly at how sexy you always are when you do.

“You’re being nice, too.”

“I know. Everything I’m thinking, though baby?” He’s got his other hand entangled in your hair, and you can’t stop the soft cry from escaping your lips. “It's filthy.”

“Filthy, huh?” Your voice is just a breathy whisper, he can't stop thinking just how cute you are.

“You can’t begin to imagine what I’m thinking. Seeing these rock hard all fucking day, so full already.” He’s gripping your tits then, squishing one in his palm, and a thumb brushing over it, making your hips roll, pressing your eager cunt against the seat, dying for the friction, while he’s so close you can taste him. “They want to get sucked on, don’t they sweetheart?”

You nod wordlessly, earning Satoru’s moan as he presses you down on the seat then, his own jacket falling under you, hand pushing down your dress, revealing your pretty breasts to his view. You gasp when he brushes his thumb on them, bare, lowering his snowy head, and you’re frozen there, trying to remember all the years you hated him, he hated you.

Why can’t you think of anything but how bad you want him?

“Shouldn’t I take care of you, too? Don’t you ache baby?” He’s murmuring, mouth hovering, as he just barely brushes his lips on them.

“S-sensitive…” He presses another kiss, and your hands entangle in his silky locks, cunt so wet it’s making your panties sticky.

“Sensitive, then do you want me to make them feel good?”

“Should we… ah!” He’s lapping at your nipple with his talented tongue, swirling your nipple, and your moan fills the car, to the point you’re sure poor Kiyotaka could hear you, making you slam a hand on your mouth. Satoru chuckles, little shit that he is, lapping at the other one.

“You want it so bad, don’t you? Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” He sucks your nipple into his hot mouth, you can’t stand just how good it feels, your hand entangling in his locks, pulling him off, as your chest heaves with your labored breaths, and he hovers an inch above you.

“Is it just… sex then? Do we just have amazing sex?” He smirks now.

“It was amazing? That’s the first I heard.”

“You know it was, arrogant ass. For me I mean.”

You falter a bit, you’re sure Satoru’s more experienced, you’ve watched him have more girls on him at once than men you’ve known. Satoru sees your hesitance, pressing a kiss on your lower lip now, nipping it slowly with his teeth, unleashing the heat in your core, until you’re throbbing with need.

“You felt so good wrapped around me.” You whine out at that, as he presses kisses to each corner of your mouth, gripping your breast again, heavy weight over you, his words and caresses making you pulse now. “Felt you cumming, so tight, think I don’t wanna be back inside you?”

“Shit… this is insane.” You’re shaking your head, when he kisses down your neck, back arching up for more. “If we are going to… we’d have to be exclusive, for the safety of the baby. So you really better think about this. At least while I’m pregnant.”

As if Satoru had been with anyone since you.

“I wouldn’t put the baby at risk.” Your eyes lock, noses brushing against each other, while he touches your tummy, feeling the slight roundness just barely already, making him lose his mind.

“While I’m pregnant I mean… if you do want anyone else and want this to stop… just tell me so I know?” He nods, unable to say the words, that he just wants you.

“Guess what?” His husky voice resonates in your ears, like he’s speaking to your pussy directly.

“W-what?”

“I can cum so deep inside your tight little cunt, all you want. ” His words fuck your brain, what was left of it, his fingers brushing on your slick heat now. “Fuck, you’re soaked, you like that thought huh.”

“It’s just hormones, mnh!” He’s laughing at your attempt.

“Hormones hmm?” You nod weakly, then cry out as he sinks two fingers in your pussy, pressing up in those gummy walls, that spot that has you weak, seeing fucking stars.

“Fuck you for hitting it so quick-ah!” He’s smirking as he watches you, the sounds of your squelching wetness filling his ears, making him feral.

“Wanna cum on my fingers or my mouth?” Your lips part, brows together, uncomprehending his words.

“Y-you eat girls out?” He chuckles then, curling his fingers up inside you just so, as your slick pools down his hand, already gripping him like a vise.

“Do I seem so selfish?” You take several shaky breaths, eyes rolling back as he hits some spot even you don’t know about, bringing you higher and higher. “Think I don’t wanna bury my face between your thighs?”

“It’s… intimate…”

“You’re cute.” He’s kissing lower, lower, your thighs trembling when the car comes to a stop, and Satoru’s fingers are coated in your slick when he pulls them out, dripping off his fingers, when he sucks on them, making your jaw drop. “Fuck you taste s’good.”

“Jesus, hormones and you are dangerous.” He’s smirking, when you sit up, biting on your lip once more. “Do you wanna come inside?”

“Cum inside that pussy?” You roll your eyes.

“Oh never mind…”

“No, no, no! I do!” He follows you out of the car, while your hands tremble, trying to unlock the door, you both barely get in before your lips are all over each other, you keep thinking, this is insane.

Insane.

It’s just the situation, why he’s ripping that dress off you, leaving you naked and bare to him completely in moments with practiced hands, moaning softly when he sees your body fully, that night he hadn’t seen all of you. His hands grip your hips then, yanking you up like it’s nothing, right into his arms. You cling to him, kissing him desperately, still fully clothed, while he presses you on the door.

“Fuck me, please.” Your desperate plea alone makes him leak precum, while he stares at your gorgeous frame.

“You’re begging me? Never thought I’d see the day, preppy little brat.” Your glare just makes him harder, as you shove at him now.

“Satoru!”

“You’re demanding pregnant, aren’t you?”

“Oh my god just… shut up please…” You slam your lips on his, grinding shamelessly against his belt, that hits your clit just so, making him drop that persona for just a minute, how sexy you are, how good you feel. “God just fuck me.”

“Room?” You point weakly as he carries you, and you’re thrown right on your bed, he stands up then, pulling off his dress shirt, revealing that perfect body, glowing slightly with the moonlight filtering through your blinds. You sit up, yanking on his belt with shaky hands, yanking his pants down and revealing how hard he already is under his boxers.

Your body violently responds when you see how much he wants you, for some reason that means more than it should, than two people making the best of such an insane situation, tugging his boxers down until his cock springs free. You’re lapping at his pretty blushed tip before he can think, eyes looking up at him from lowered lashes, making him whimper from just that.

Satoru whimpering triggers something in you yourself, you’re sucking his veiny length, as his hands entangle in your hair, his head falling back, abdomen flexing while you take him deeper. “B-baby, fuck… taking it that good, huh?”

He’s mad you’ve ever done it.

He’s mad anyone’s even seen your eyes at this angle. God he can’t stop thinking how pretty they are, even as his cock throbs inside your hot mouth, and you suck him so fucking hungry. He can’t stop thinking of how gorgeous you are, how he’s not sure he even deserves this from you, like he’s in some fucking dream, sweet thoughts mixing with the wet sounds of you sucking him up.

He’s feeling the suction, your hot wet mouth so eager, when you touch your throbbing, needy clit, running it in circles, while you sit there serving him, feeling him lose it with every stroke. His eyes flutter shut for a moment as he fucks into your tight throat, feeling so good when his tip brushes the roof of your mouth, leaking pearly pre cum.

“Fuck, you’re so hungry for it, aren’t you?” You pull back with a pop now, when he swipes the drool off your chin, and your hand strokes him, earning another sweet little whimper.

“Shh. Just fuck me.” You whisper, pulling back and turning, on all fours with that sexy ass in the air. He pauses, dying to fuck you, but dying to taste you more, you gasp when Satoru flips you on your back, and you blush in the dark room. “Don’t you wanna…”

“I said I was eating you out. Gonna deny me the meal? Ya that mean?” You’re stammering as he kisses down your tummy, shoving your thighs apart, lapping a stripe up your slit, you’re pulling his hair so hard it hurts, screaming out, just making his cock throb harder.

“Toru I haven’t had anyone… do that…” He pulls back now, and your hands ease, when he sees something he never saw in you before, the confident, feisty little brat that you are.

You’re nervous.

He eases up a bit, resting on his elbows, pressing kisses against your inner thighs as he inhales you, god you smell even better than before, taste even better than he remembers. “I love to do it, if you want.”

You exhale in relief, nodding shyly then, another thing he wouldn’t associate with you- shy. The girl who just ripped down his pants, sucking him like a pro, is nervous to get pleased this way. “I want it, fuck I want it bad. Just a little… you’re seeing all of me, like all.”

“I am seeing so much of this pretty pussy.” He presses a kiss higher up, breath ghosting your sensitive clit when he parts your lips, watching arousal drool out of your cunt. “Prettiest, actually.”

“N-no…”

“Mmhmm.” He licks you again, and something far too intimate forms, when Satoru Gojo is buried between your thighs, worshipping you with his talented tongue in long, slow strokes. “Fuck you’re so wet…”

“Hormones?” He just grins, you feel his teeth against your pussy, when your body relaxes for him, when you spread your thighs, letting him see you, while he presses his cock against the mattress.

“Hormones.” He slips his tongue up to your clit then, and you don’t hold back anymore, a few more strokes and you’re grinding on his face, making his groan vibrate against your sensitive clit. “Mmm…”

“There, there oh my god!” Did Satoru Gojo have to be the best at everything? Did he have to ruin you when his blue eyes watch your face contort in pleasure?

“There you go, you like it right… here.” Satoru slips two fingers in your slutty little hole, pressing up as he flicks his tongue, and you’re clinging to him now, while he works you with a tongue far too talented, you’re instantly jealous of every girl that’s had Satoru like this.

Wild thoughts, stop that.

“Loosen up, just feel it sweetheart.” He says now, feeling you tense around him, and you nod then, eyes rolling back when he fucks those fingers into you, scissoring them in and out, while flicking his tongue right on your clit, twitching in response. “Let go f’me, huh pretty?”

“Mnh!” You shatter at his urging, his mouth, his teeth, tongue, all of it merging and destroying your surroundings, you’re cumming so intense you cannot see anymore, and Satoru’s eagerly drinking you up. “Satoru!”

“Mmm…” He’s lapping all the wetness that’s gushing out of you, fingers easing out to grip your hips, while your thighs tighten on either side of his head. “That’s it, so greedy f’me, want more?”

“Please!” You’re fucking his face now, god he can’t get enough, burying his face against you, shaking his head side to side, while you’re so sensitive the next orgasm comes so quickly, you’re yanking him up, kissing his lips and reaching down, stroking his cock once more, watching snowy lashes flutter.

“God, you’re so ready aren’t you?” You just nod, and when Satoru presses his tip past that tight ring of muscles, sinking deeper, it’s even more intense.

You’re fully sober this time, with swirling blue eyes looking right at you, as he slides in your tight cunt, which struggles to take him at first, even after so much play, Satoru is huge, certainly bigger than you’re used to. You grip his shoulders, manicured nails pressing in, when he rocks his hips just so, kissing your lips, letting your taste mix between the two of you.

“God you’re so wet, fuck…” He’s enamored by you, lifting a thigh then, pulling back and jerking his hips so he’s shoved deeper, your cry drank by his eager lips, that can’t rip themselves from yours.

How is he supposed to ever be with someone now?

You feel like heaven, he won’t say that corny shit, but it’s all he can describe it to, watching your pretty face as he fucks into you slowly, and both of you freeze for just a moment. He grips your hand in his, entwining his fingers as he lays it over your head, your heart races as your pussy struggles to take more, greedy for his every stretch, every stroke.

“S’good I… ah- please, more!” You’re begging him, shameless as you do, when he slams his cock in deep, tip kissing your cervix, your head falls back, his lips devouring your neck while he bends over you.

“Taking this cock like you’re made for it.” Satoru hears your cunt sucking him in, so wet it’s squishing loudly, mixing with the slapping of your skin, as he starts to go faster, watching your eyes nearly black as they dilate. “There you go, look at you. So greedy.”

“Ngh…” You can’t form words anymore, not when he feels better than that night, not when he’s fucking every thought, worry and woe away, you can’t even remember what brought you here. You can’t remember anything, think of anything but his cock, slamming deeper and deeper, his tip dragging on that spot now on your walls. “There, there!”

“You’re so bossy, what a brat.” You can’t scowl, but he knows you wish you could, as he grins down and does just that, eyes hungry while they watch you falling apart under him, pulling back then, groaning as he watches his cock bulging your tummy, making him more sensitive inside you. “Look, so fucking hot, I’m so big in you, aren’t I baby?”

“C-conceited… mmm, y-yes…” He turns your chin, making you blush, where you watch his shape inside you.

“Gotta see this while we can, gonna be so round soon.” His words should bother you, but they don’t. He’s imagining it with you, and it takes him over. “I’ll be easier then with you.”

“Gonna take it e-easy?” You’ve got your thighs up high now, Satoru watches your little hole swallowing him, cock coated in your slick, so wet it’s dripping down his balls, that smack against your ass, harder and deeper now.

“Well I won’t be able to do this.” He’s folding you in half, leaning over you to cup your face with huge hands, slamming deeper than you’ve ever felt, so deep it damn near hurts, but you’re craving it, dying for it, hands gripping his shoulders helplessly while you lose yourself in his eyes.

Insane blue, pupils shrunk to pinpoints, while he hovers over you, breaths mingling together in the night, you’re folded so in half your knees damn near touch the bed. “So d-deep…”

“You can take it, like a good girl. Slutty pussy, listen to her.” You’re too fucked out to get offended, let him call it a slutty pussy, it’s what it was, after all.

“Ngh- Close, close.” He’s slamming his cock harder, tempo increasing as she soaks him so much he almost slips out, only for you to whine desperately, nails leaving crescent moons against his arms, he hisses in pain and pleasure, kissing you deeply, tongues dripping, messy and desperate.

“Fuck…” He’s close, he realizes, a man who could go forever, you’ve already cum, but he wants you cumming over and over until you’re a sobbing, pretty little mess for him, but you feel far too fucking perfect wrapped around him. “Want to cum with me? Want me to fill your slutty hole?”

His dirty words just make your walls flutter, earning his soft whine, right against your ear, his hands gripping your waist bruisingly. You nod weakly, whispering in his ear now - ‘Cum in me’

“Oh god, fuck yes. Want all my cum, don’t you?” You look up, intoxicated by him, losing your mind completely while he’s working you, pulling back to press on your thighs, feral grin spreading across his pretty face. “You’ll take it so fucking good like this.”

“Satoru!” You scream when he thrusts his hips just so, slamming that cervix, forcing you to cum again, to the point your ears are ringing, body on fire for him, every memory of you both thrown out the damn window.

“Beg for it.”

“No!”

“Beg.” He’s smirking, and you shake your head, clenching around him and watching him lose control, his cheeks flushed, lips parted in a gasp.

“You beg to cum in me.”

“No.” You both laugh, then the motion itself brings Satoru to the edge, tightening impossibly around him. “Fuck it, please, let me fill this pussy.”

“You really begged I- ah!” He’s glaring, slamming his cock deep, stuffing your cunt so full.

“That’s it, milk me huh?” You’re too far out, your pussy is milking him with your aftershocks, when he’s pumping you with those hot white ropes, endless sticky, gooey cum. You’re so full from it coating your walls, warm and hot and perfect, all the way even in your tummy. “There you go, taking s’much fuckin cum.”

“S’much I… Satoru.” His cum alone has you addicted, he pulls back now, watching his cock slowly pumping cum in and out of your hole, watching the way it trickles down his huge cock, glistening and mixing with you.

“You took me so well.” His praise is too much, it’s all too much, while Satoru eases back, on his elbows, hovering just so. “God you’re fucking pretty like this, so fucked out.”

You bury your face. “Am not fucked out.”

“No, need more?”

“I’m… we…”

“That’s what I thought.” He eases back, pulling away fully, seeing the mess of both of your fluids fall over the bed, pulling your pussy lips apart, watching it all pour out, drip by drip. “How is this little thing gonna push something out?”

“They stretch silly!”

“Well, clearly, took me so good.” He’s fingering the sticky cum, desperate and feral, cock glimmering from you, damn near ready to fuck into you again.

For a moment you both stare, Satoru’s scooping it out, before sucking on it, your breath is rapid at the motion, his cheeks hollowing, tilting your chin up. “Satoru you’re… a whole freak.”

“Open.” You tentatively do, allowing him to open mouth kiss you, his cum and yours in your mouth, but you crave it, so much you’re pulling him desperate. “You’re gonna be freaky just for me, aren’t you?”

“Shh.” He’s chuckling watching you drink up his cum, while you come down from your high, when he brushes your hair back, you struggle with just how much you feel, how badly you want more.

You’ve never felt anything like this.

How can you and Satoru have this?

“Um… is poor Kiyotaka waiting?” You manage to say softly, to diffuse the feelings threatening to bubble to the surface. Satoru rolls his pretty eyes.

“He gets paid good to wait!”

“Oh jesus. Let’s not keep him waiting forever.”

“Ya kicking me out? Rude. I had you cum how many times?” You giggle, that sound clutching him, pulling him by the goddamn heartstrings.

“I need sleep, and don’t you have a trip coming?”

“Shit… you remembered.”

“You all always took that trip.”

“What did you do during spring break?” He slips on his clothes, as you grab a robe, throwing it over yourself and wrapping it with a tie.

“Study.”

“Boring.” He eyes the books by your bed then, along with a fresh bag of hot cheetos, he laughs softly at that, touching the baby books curiously. “Cravings?”

“God yes, bad too.”

“I wonder… will you be showing more when I get back?” You heat up at his question, brushing back messy hair, while Satoru buttons up his shirt.

“Will that suck for you, physically?” He hears the worry, which seems ridiculous, fuck you’d just be sexier.

“Shit no. You’ll look hot.”

You’re fiddling with the ties of your robes now, his words and your wobbly leg a lethal combination. “You think?”

“Fuck yeah, milf and all.”

“Shit.” You pull him down, kissing him again, he’s gripping your terry cloth robe, yanking you to him, while the fan above you both serves no purpose, the both of you are so overheated. “Thank you, I needed it. All of it.”

“The dick is that good?”

“Psh, go on.” You turn him now, shoving him.

“I feel used!? I feel like a booty call! For a horny pregnant girl.”

“You got me pregnant, so.” You pinch his ass, he gasps, feigning upset, only making your smile brighter, your heart lighter.

Then you realize.

You’re gonna miss him, shit, a guy you couldn’t stand is starting to become… comfortable, enjoyable and clearly your body…

She’s a wreck for him.

“Satoru please if you want to be with someone else, let me know.” He is sucking you off his fingers as you speak, he turns and raises a brow.

“I would let you know. But… I think having you take all my cum? Pretty fucking elite.”

“A-plus?” Your lips twitch, and his white teeth glint.

“4.3 GPA pussy.”

You both laugh, and soon you’re standing by your door, trying to not think so much, to just let it be. So you both have fun, so you…

Fuck you already want him again, what’s that.

“If you masturbate thinking of me, video it would you?”

There he is.

Fuckboi Gojo isn’t gone, he just fucked your brains out.

“Oh god. No, go on.”

Satoru chuckles a bit, slipping on his coat now, as you both stand in the doorway, your mind rushing, feeling him trickle out of you, knowing this is batshit, knowing it’s just sex. Right, sex, that’s it… agreement, sex, some sort of understanding, that’s all that this was.

Don’t get too attached, don’t fall into his blue eyes.

“Thanks for today, though.”

“Thanks for the dick or-”

“Jesus do you stop?” You shove at him now, and he pulls you against him, far, far too close. “Thank you for being here.”

His jokes calm, as he sees it, how serious you are, so unsure when you look down, and he tilts your chin up. “Of course, I’ll be back for the next ultrasound, okay?”

“Okay.” You both stand there, kissing after sex, what’s it mean?

Don’t you hate each other?

“Gonna miss me, hmm?”

“No way.” You peck a kiss on his lips though, before you can stop yourself, leaving him blinking on the porch, when you get off your tiptoes, and turn to the door. “Be safe and don’t be late for it.”

You shut the door then, leaving him aching to go back inside, to be inside you, fuck he’d stay in your heat all the time if he could, fill you over and over until you’re so full of him you can’t take it. He pauses before he turns around, wondering then, should he go on this trip?

Should he just stay?

He shakes himself out of the spell you’ve cast, as his friends start texting him, wanting to know if he’ll be ready tomorrow, he texts them back, slipping in the back of the car, where Kiyotaka is taking a nap. Satoru leans forward, with a ‘boo’ damn near earning a smack as he wakes him up, the tired man panicking.

“Relax, you’re fine buddy.” He smacks his narrow shoulder, making Kiyotaka jerk just a bit, before exhaling.

“You were in there a long time, Mr. Gojo.” He says with yawn, focusing now, putting the car on with a purr of the engine.

“Yeah I was.”

“Not as long as most of your… escapades.” Satoru glares at him now, blue eyes narrowing as his driver clears his throat.

“Are you saying I busted quick, Ijichi?”

“Sir I-”

“Hah did you bust quick?” Satoru realizes somehow he has called Suguru, and hears Sukuna cackling in the background.

“Oh fuck you three, mmkay I lasted like a champ… kind of.”

“How long was he in there?” Sukuna asks, and Ijichi looks back at Gojo, who’s shaking his head and mouthing a plea.

“I was merely kidding, Mr. Gojo was in there so long I fell asleep.”

“Thank you, as I said.”

It wasn’t that quick was it?

You sure came enough for him, god he feels you all over his fingers, his mouth, you’re soaked into his goddamn taste buds- how could you think for a minute that he’d want anyone else? He knows his reputation, but how do you not know the level of obsession you send him to more and more every time he sees you, since he’s been inside of you twice.

This was more intimate.

His hand had gripped yours, he’d looked into your eyes as he lapped at your pretty pussy, you’d taken him so good, too. Your cries are echoing in his head as he realizes his friend is talking. “Huh?”

“Pussy that good? Share with your friends, hmm?” Satoru scoffs at Sukuna, rolling his eyes.

“You wish, I’m not telling you two shit.”

“So special? Are you down so bad?” Suguru teases, making Satoru’s jaw tense just a bit.

It was just your hormones, it’s the situation, it’s just sex.

Right?

Right… no.

No sex doesn’t do this to him, this is…What is it? Is it because you’re having his baby, is it his feelings that have pent up so long for you?

“Probably not coming on our yearly trip.” He hears, clearing his throat.

“I’m not gonna miss it, think I’m old and tied down now?” His friends laugh, but his heart aches, thinking of how fucking bad he’ll miss you already.

You fix the bed, flushing as you see the rumpled sheets and blankets, before laying down in bed, covering your face as the memories hit. His touch, his tongue, his eyes just staring into yours. Was it because it was easy for the two of you, because you’re pregnant already? Convenience?

You can’t stop wracking your mind.

Not seeing him for almost a month…

Fratboy Gojo🙄: Good night, sweet dreams about this dick.

You glare at the screen.

You don’t respond, seeing him typing and typing.

Fratboy Gojo🙄: I’ll keep in touch, please if… you need to talk I’ll have my phone, okay?

You sigh now, turning on your side, while Gojo watches those three dots, finally walking into his penthouse, mind wandering to you. He wants you… in his bed, he wants to stay, to ignore his best friends, ignore the tradition. Your pussy is… a demon surely, making him hard just thinking of it again.

Sorority Brat 💦😻: I don’t wanna bother you, I’ll be fine.

Satoru frowns at that.

Fratboy Gojo🙄   I want to know how you are.

His own vulnerability makes him feel sick damn near, but you heart the message, making him simp like some idiot with a dopey grin.

Sorority Brat 💦😻Then I will keep you updated, I hope you have a lot of fun.

Guilt gnaws at him, leaving you alone, to go on some trip, while your body would surely go through more changes. He doesn’t even want to miss it, but he can’t just… he has to still have his life, right? For now, was it just… sex to you because you’re horny, and he’s there?

Did it mean more?

Sorority Brat 💦😻 Good night, Satoru.

You watch him heart the message, as your hand drifts to your tummy, thinking about the little growing baby inside you. It almost feels surreal, as do the feelings for Satoru Gojo.

 Fratboy Gojo🙄 Good night, Sweets.

this one took a bit but it WAS a little longer- I'd expect chap three to be long as well! I will post a preview of that tomorrow as it's already in the works ;) (will time skip one month!) I hope you all enjoy, ty for being patient! ILYSM

Taglist #1- @jannythewriter-pt2 @gojosoups @lycoris-radiata-4-sale @cutiepi-iee @poisonousspiderlily @closerbutnevertogether @myahfig4 @shokosbunny @coq1myun @rinny27 @abibliolife @coq1myun @megumisthirdog @p4lli @turtlebangtan @webshooterrr9 @aldebrana @msqudo18 @s0ulsnatchaaa @ovela @midnaamethyste @nearlyfuckingwitches @shibataimu @msniks @missthatgirl @fantasy1nightmare0 @maddyhehehehhe @yourst3pm0mmy @haithamsbb @rentheannihilator @ilovebeansyay @lemonswirlz @dilfkentolover @evelynxxo @bkgnotsuma @suki91 @burntasian @nakiich @hyunjinsruinedpainting @miniv1x3n @minascasket @ihrtmack @contaminatedcupcake @girlwithn0j0b @tokyi999 @vamqyx @queenofthekill @verriees @vullzo @jkslaugh97

[luvyeni]

TAKE YOU HOME ๑. ( 박성훈 )

[ req? yes / no ]

𝗦𝗖𝗘𝗡𝗘 ──────── you and sunghoon never really got along , but you found yourself sitting in the passenger seat inside the parking lot of a mcdonald’s all because of the rain and jake …

( 対 ) park sunghoon + fem. reader wc. 2.5k genre · smut . contains! car sex , unprotected sex , language mature content. / back to library

𝕼 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒 yeni’s note .ᐟ i hope you like it !

smiling at the couple as you handed them the umbrella. “have a good night.” you watched them walking out into the night; the rain fell heavily from the sky , you sighed. “i didn’t bring an umbrella.” you whispered to yourself. looking at the time you took the hideous vest they made you wear off , placing it under the counter before you began to close the store down for the day.

“i don’t care jake you owe me; it’s pouring down rain and you have me going to the store for some stupid snack you saw on the internet.” sunghoon pushed the doors to the store open. “bro you have a car , plus it’s on your way here.” his friend said over the phone. “you don’t pay for my gas to be making all these requests , i’m hanging up.” he said , putting his phone into his pocket. “hello , we’re about to close — oh it’s you.” he heard your voice. ”we’re closed , sorry you may leave now.”

he scoffed; rolling his eyes. “i know you’re dumb , but i know you can see the sign that says you close at midnight and it’s only 11:30.” he said , walking past you, purposely bumping your shoulders , smirking as you let out a huff , walking behind the counter to ring him up. “hurry up, i don’t have all night.” you said , he looked at you , ignoring your words , continuing on his search.

sunghoon watched you stare out the door ; it was coming down even harder, it even began to thunder making you jump a bit; closing your eyes. he smiled to himself , covering it up with a cough when you turned to him. he found what he was looking for walking over to the counter putting it down. “finally , took you forever.” you said , ringing up his items. “your total is $20.43.”

“and a pack of smokes.” you huffed turning around , grabbing the pack of cigarettes into the bag. “it’s raining.” he said. “as you said before i’m not blind.” he sighed , your attitude making him frustrated. “i mean do you have a ride home?” you looked up from the cash register. “does it look like i have a ride sunghoon?” you said. “don’t be so rude , i know you can’t help it but at least try.” he said, rolling his eyes. “let me take you home.”

you were surprised; you and sunghoon couldn’t stand each other; you barely spoke and when you did it was nothing nice to each other — now he’s asking to take you home. “so you can kidnap me? no thanks.” you handed him the bag. “how would kidnapping you benefit me in anyways.” he spoke; the thunder booming; this time lightning flashing in the sky making you shriek. “look it’s bad outside and , it’s dark and dangerous out there.” he said. “i don’t like you but i don’t want you to die.” that couldn’t be far from the truth , in fact he adored you ; he loved everything about you ; but he could express it , so he shut down , choosing to be mean to you . “i have to close up the store.” you said , he shrugged. “i can’t wait.”

“what about your stuff?.” you pointed out. “it’s not mines , he’s jake’s and he didn’t pay for it so he can wait.” he said. “take me straight home.” you said. “i have no interest in taking you anywhere else.”

he actually waited in the store as you cleaned up; sitting at the table watching you as you swept and moped; putting back the snacks that were moved around. he listened to you humming to yourself , grunting while moving a heavy crate around. “stupid.” he said , standing up. “excuse me?” you asked , he walked over to you , taking the crate out of your hand. “next time ask for help , don’t lift things that you cant lift.

once the shock wore off you let out a nervous and obvious fake cough; why was he being so nice? “well i’m finished now, you can take me home.” you said collecting your things.” he followed behind you. “im not your chauffeur.” he said , standing behind you as you locked the door. “i’m just doing this so i don’t feel bad.” opening his car door , getting in the passenger's seat. “not like you have a conscience anyway “

he ignored your insult , starting his car up. “you’re a little wet , let me turn the heat on,” he said , reaching over to your side , looking up at you. “can you feel it?” you shuffled around in your seat a bit — when was he this good looking? “ye-yeah.” you stuttered , he sat up nodding. “let’s go.”

the ride was silent; real silent in fact, the rain pouring down on the car , the windshield wipers squeaking, you could hear it all , then his phone rang. “shit.” he picked it up speaker on, reading off the name with a sigh after. “what jake?” he said. “where are you , the store is 15 minutes away.” he yelled through the phone. “calm down i’m on the way.” sunghoon said. “no , don’t come , i need you to do something for me.”

“i want mcdonald’s.” you chuckled at the boy on the phone who whined. “is there someone with you?” jake asked. “who is with you?” sunghoon shook his head. “it’s yn.” it was silent for a second , before jake said something. “yn? have you hit your head?” you scoffed. “i can hear you jake.”

“oh.” he said. “hi yn , no offense and all but like why is she in the car with you; and how is the car not off in a ditch somewhere?” he did have a point , up until today you and sunghoon never got along. “it’s pouring outside man , i wasn’t gonna let her walk home , im not a monster.”

“good well then you won’t have any problem getting me mcdonald’s ; goodbye.” he hung up. “i’m not— he hung up on me.” he said , you laughed. “this funny?” you nodded. “very.” you shot back. “it’s right there , might as well.” you pointed to the store. “i’m hungry too.” the moment he heard that he was turning into the empty parking lot up to the drive through.

“i could’ve paid for my own food.” you said watching him drive around the empty lot ; finding a spot. “but you didn’t , get over it.” he said. “fine.” you mumbled under your breath. “why are we still in the lot?” you asked. “you said you were hungry , eat.” he said pulling out his burger. “i could’ve eaten when i gotten home.” you said. “what about jake’s food?” just hearing you talking about jake in anyway made him upset. “he didn’t pay for this or the stuff from the store and i know he won’t pay me back.” he started. “he can eat these cold fries or die.” you chuckled , he looked at you. “you found that funny?”

you nodded , taking a bite of your sandwich. “you’re funny when you want to be i guess park sunghoon.” you said to yourself , cheeks full of food , you looked so cute , it made him smile. “why’d you agree to take me home?” you asked , taking a bite of the fry. “because it’s pouring , you’ll get sick if you go out there.” he said. “yeah but you once laughed when i lost my voice , so i didn’t expect this from you.”

“i laughed because you lost it yelling at me.” he shot back. “it was payback.” he said. “that’s because you embarrassed me in front of heeseung.” you mumbled ; he frowned hearing the boys name , he knew you had a thing for the older boy. “that wasn’t gonna work out anyway.” he said. “and now do you know that?” he watched your lips turn into a pout. “because heeseung hyung has a girlfriend.” your eyes widened. “since when?” you asked. “since last year.”

“oh my god i’m so stupid.” you took a bite of your sandwich. “how did i not see that?” you said , he looked at you , noticing the ketchup on the corner of your mouth. “because you're oblivious.” he said. “to everything.” you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “you have ketchup on your face.” he said. you hissed to yourself trying to wipe it off , missing everytime. “do dumb.” he said , his thumb coming up to you lip to wipe it , your eyes widened , feeling his thumb on your lip. “i got it.” he said.

your breath hitched; his eyes meeting your lips, making him subconsciously bite his , they were nice and full — he wanted to kiss them so bad, so he did. your eyes widened, feeling his lips on yours; shutting your eyes , almost melting into the kiss; before pulled away. “i- shit i’m sorry.” he said. “i didn’t mean to do that.” he quickly said. “do it again.”

both of you were surprised about the words that came out of your mouth. “wait huh?” you didn’t give him a chance to say any else before you were grabbing the back of his neck pulling him into a kiss. if someone would’ve told you this would happen , that you’d be kissing sunghoon in this parking lot , you’d laugh at them and call them crazy , but here you are , his hands tangled up in your hair as he slips his tongue inside your mouth ; groaning into the kiss.

he pulled away , smiling when your lips chased his. “so cute.” he gave you a few quick pecks on the lips. “you’re so cute.” you whined. “sunghoon.” he smirked. “how can i help you?” you rolled your eyes in annoyance , he grabbed your cheeks , shushing them. “don’t be a brat , just tell me what you want and you’ll get it , if you can’t speak then i guess i’ll just take you home.” he smirked seeing your eyes widened. “i want you.”

“yeah , what do you want?” he said, still holding your face. “come on , speak up. closed mouths don’t get fed.” he watched you search for the proper words , but it was hard when he was staring at you with a look that made you squirm in your seats. “speak.”

“can you touch me?” he let go of your cheeks. “go ahead and get into the backseat.” you quickly found yourself in the backseat of the man you claimed to dislike , undressing yourself as he got in the backseat. “come here.” he pulled you into his lap , his hands resting on your ass as he pulled you into another heated make out session , your thighs betraying you , moving back and forth against him , sighing at the friction.

“dirty girl , who told you to get off in my lap.” he bit your lip pulling away. “su-sunghoon.” he slapped your ass. “you want to get off?” he moaned feeling the friction of you in his pants; his cock begging to be freed and inside you. “go ahead , fuck yourself just like this.” you whined out. “i-i can’t.” his hand wrapping around your throat. “you can , and you will or i won’t let you cum at all.” he said. “now move faster.” you picked the paste , your panties sticky as he kept his hand wrapped around your throat as you dry humped him. “fuck i’m gonna ruin you.” he huffed.

that was then last thing you heard before the world went silent and you came. “that’s it , cum make a mess of yourself.” he cursed , needing to feel you. “i need to be inside you.” he toyed with your clothed cunt , pulling your panties to the side. “so wet , you made such a mess.” he groaned. “want you to make this mess all on my cock okay.”

both of you moaned as you sunk down on his lengthy cock. “oh shit , shit you’re so tight.” moaning , throwing his head back. “oh fuck.” you moaned , he held your hips as you began to rock back and forth. “shit i gotta feel you all the way.” he lifted you up off his lap , laying you down on the seat of his car. “need to be deep inside you.”

you clawed at his thick bicep as he filled you back up , his cock reaching and new depth inside you. “fuck sunghoon you’re so big.” he moaned , the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. “so fucking , been wanting to fuck this pretty pussy for so long.” he confessed. “but you were too busy running this bratty mouth of yours.”

he began to pound into you. “i should stuff it with my cock , keep you from running it.” he growled. “you like that? want me to stuff my cock down your throat?” you nodded. “pl-please.” you gasped out , he smirked as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. “maybe next time , you’re already so fucked out and i have to get you home.” he sped up , the car definitely was rocking back and forth , but neither one of you care. “sunghoon im gonna cum.”

his hands tightened around your throat. “do it - shit cum all over my cock.” he buried himself deep inside you , moaning loudly as you came , clenching around him. “oh fuck i’m gonna cum , fuck can i cum inside you?” he asked , you nodded. “please.” he gave you a few more thrust before completely stilling his hips, shooting ropes of cum into your pussy. “fuck yes.” he sighed , giving you small strokes , before pulling completely out of you , watching his cum leak out of you. “next time i’m fucking you in a bed , you made such a mess on my seats.”

“my shit is cold because you wanted to get nasty with yn in the backseat of your car.” jake scoffed standing at the microwave watching his food. “had my food around all that nastiness.” sunghoon rolled his eyes. “you could’ve door dashed.” jake turned around. “and pay $30 when i could get it for less 15 minutes from our house and you could’ve fucked yn in her house at a later time?” he said , but sungoon wasn’t listening he was already standing up. “where are you going?” jake asked mid rant. “where do you think?”

“to go fuck her at her house.”

©️LUVYENI

[beenreidingaboutyou]

When I'm Down on My Knees, You're How I Pray

who? Spencer x afab! reader

content warnings: NSFW, MDNI, 18+ content, unholy use of bible verses, inaccurate use of religious themes, oral (m), fingering (f), reader has hair that can be pulled, mention of religious trauma, Jesus Reid, please let me know if I've missed anything else!

a/n: Believe it or not, I actually toned down the blasphemy in this fic. Huge thank you to @minswriting for answering my 20 million questions about this because I've never written smut before and that's the majority of what she does. (Also she came up with the title, it's a Lana lyric)

thank you to @cafekitsune for the MDNI divider and @saradika-graphics for the stained glass divider

word count: 1.3k

You’ve spent your adult life avoiding anything related to church and religion. Growing up in an overly religious household and being forced to attend church services twice a week, in addition to the Bible study and choir practice, meant that anything related to religion left a bad taste in your mouth. While you’ve never outright mentioned this to Hotch, he seemed to pick up on it and respected your wishes, never sending you to interview priests or visit cathedrals that had been the scene of a crime. At least, until he had respected your wishes until this case. He paired you with Spencer and sent you both to investigate an older crime scene at a nearby church. Despite your best efforts, you were unable to weasel out of your assignment, so here you were, stuck thinking about the fact that you were going to church with the one person you’d always been attracted to since joining the BAU.

You were oddly quiet as the two of you walked through the building

“So, what are your thoughts?” Spencer asks, breaking the silence.

“Being here brings back all of the religious trauma I endured as a kid and you looking like Jesus is certainly not helping.”

You see Spencer furrow his brows in confusion, his gaze shifting from the church to you, “I-I’m sorry, did you just say I look like Jesus?” 

“Yeah, I did. Except you’d be the one I’d get on my knees for,” you say teasingly, shooting a wink in his direction.

He chokes on air, “e-excuse me?”

“Anyways, let’s go check out the confessional,” you reply, wanting to get out of the church as soon as possible.

As you step into the cramped confessional, you can feel Reid close behind you. You can feel the effect your teasing remark had on him as his bulge presses against your back, though you’re sure the action is unintentional on his part. 

You turn to face him and glance down at the tent his pants, “do you want some help with that?”

His face flushes, “w-what?”

“Shhh, let me take care of you,” you mumble as you get down on your knees in front of him. 

You hear his breath hitch in his throat as you undo his belt. You quickly unbutton and unzip his pants, pulling them down and leaving him in his boxers. You palm his bulge and glance up at him, “Looks like you enjoyed the idea of me worshipping your cock.”

He whimpers and nods. You slowly pull his boxers down, freeing his length. He whimpers as you run your thumb over his tip, collecting the leaking precum. “You like that, baby?” you ask, looking up at him. 

He nods his head pathetically in response. You bite your lip and wrap your hand around his length, giving a few experimental tugs. The sound of his whimpers went straight to your cunt, leaving you desperate to hear more.

“My heart is glad and my tongue rejoices, Psalm 16:9” you recited before you slowly lick the underside of his cock, going from the base to the tip. You can’t help but smirk slightly at the moan that escapes his mouth. You wrap your lips around him, only taking a little more than the tip into your mouth. You look up at him as you swirl your tongue around his length, loving the way he’s reacting to your teasing. His eyes are dark with lust as he looks down at you, enjoying the view, but clearly wanting more. You slowly take more of him into your mouth and you feel him tangle his fingers in your hair as he lets out a loud moan. You keep going until he hits the back of your throat, causing you to gag slightly. Spencer gently caressed your hair, a subtle way of telling you to be careful.

You start to bob your head, going at a teasingly slow pace, savoring the moans and whimpers that he lets out. You hollow out your cheeks around him and he groans in response, bucking his hips slightly. You pick up your pace as he grips your hair, gathering your hair in a makeshift ponytail. He groans and uses your hair to guide you, forcing you to go faster. You moan around his length and something in him snaps. He holds your head still and starts bucking his hips, thrusting into your mouth, causing you to gag each time he hits the back of your throat. You look up at him with tears in your eyes, loving the sight of him with his head thrown back and mouth open. He moaned your name so prettily, the sound echoing around the church.

You feel his cock twitch and he starts to pull out, but you grab his hips and hold him in place. He cums with a loud groan, shooting his seed down your throat. You eagerly swallow his load before leaning back, a trail of spit and cum. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand as you stand up. You can’t resist the urge to wink and say, “Amen” 

He takes your face in his hands and pulls you in for a rough, needy kiss. His tongue slips past your lips and he groans at the taste of himself on your tongue. His hands move down to your thighs and he picks you up, placing you on the prayer ledge without breaking the kiss. 

“From the fruit of their lips people are filled with good things and the work of their hands brings them reward, Proverbs 12:14,” Spencer whispers in your ear as his hands slowly trail under your skirt, his fingers tracing your thighs as they get closer to your core. You moan softly as his fingers brush against your panties and he starts pressing open mouth kisses to the side of your neck. You let your head fall back, giving him more room to kiss and suck on your neck and collarbones. He smirks and gently sucks a mark on your pulse point as he pushes your panties to the side.

“You’re so wet, angel,” Spencer murmured against your skin. “Did you get all worked up using your mouth on me?” 

You whimper quietly as he uses one of his fingers to spread your wetness around. He doesn’t tease you for long, within moments you feel the tip of his finger brushing against your clit. You moan in response, his touch sending sparks all over your body. He begins to gently rub your clit in a circular motion, working you slowly.

You gasp loudly when he slips one of his fingers inside you, his long, slender finger reaching far deeper than yours ever could. He slowly pumps his finger in and out, letting you get used to the sensation before adding a second finger. His pace increases and he curls his fingers, brushing against your g-spot. You moan his name, causing him to pick up speed. 

“Does that feel good, angel?” Spence asked lowly, watching the way you fell apart under his touch.

 “Uh-huh, so good, Spence”

He smirks as you clench around his fingers. His thumb moves to rub your clit as he continues thrusting his fingers. 

“You gonna cum for me?” 

“Yes, yes, ohhh god.” You moan loudly, shaking as you let go, your thighs squeezing around him. 

“I wanna be inside you, angel,” Spencer mumbled, pushing your skirt up. 

You nod and lift your hips to make it easier for him. You can hear a low moan slip from his mouth when he exposes the lacy panties you’re wearing that day. He hooks his fingers in the waistband to pull them down, but gets interrupted by the ringing of his phone.

He reluctantly answers the call, “Reid.” 

You listen quietly as he speaks, trying to get your breathing back to normal. He hangs up the phone and pouts, “Hotch wants us back at the station.”

“I gathered,” you mumble as he steps back, giving you room to stand up and fix your skirt.

“If you want, you can come by my hotel room later? Finish what we started?” He offers as he pulls up his pants.

“I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

[folkwhoreberry]

I'm sorry I'm too shy to ask without being anonymous 🫣 but could I get a story with Lando where reader is a childhood sweetheart and was always there for him and still is. Like a scene where she arrives at paddock solo because she had to do something first and she is all nice to fans and collects bracelets and stuff then she goes to garage where she and Lando have a pre race ritual of her kissing the helmet or something.

Lucky Charms

lando norris x reader

or... the one where wherever he goes, thats where you follow

word count : 674

warning : none, english is not my first language!!!

on the radio : die with a smile by bruno mars & lady gaga

🏎️🧡

the paddock buzzes with excitement, fans crowding around as you make your way through. it’s a familiar scene by now, but today, you had to come alone. lando was already deep in pre-race preparations, and you’d gotten held up with something earlier in the day. still, you smile warmly at the fans who call your name.

“can I have a photo?” a girl asks, holding up her phone, eyes wide with hope.

“of course!” you say, pausing for a quick selfie. another fan hands you a bracelet, colorful beads strung together with care. “thank you, I love it!” you slip it onto your wrist, adding it to the growing collection from fans you’d received over the years. these little moments always meant a lot to you - connecting with the people who support lando, who support you both.

after a few more quick interactions, you wave goodbye to the small group gathered near the entrance and head toward the mclaren garage. the familiar hum of mechanics working, the scent of fuel, and the sight of the car bring a sense of calm. this place, chaotic as it is, feels like home because of lando.

“hey, you made it,” one of the crew members grins as you enter, giving a little wave.

“barely,” you laugh, walking past to find lando. you know exactly where he’ll be, a ritual of sorts for both of you before every race. and when you finally see him, helmet in hand, his eyes light up in that way that makes your heart race just as fast as it did when you were kids.

“thought you were gonna leave me hanging,” lando teases, leaning against the wall of the garage. the smile he gives you is soft, familiar, the same one he’s been giving you since you were just two kids with dreams bigger than either of you could grasp.

“never,” you say, stepping up to him. he’s already in his race suit, looking every bit the professional he’s grown into, but to you, he’s still the boy you grew up with, the one who used to drag you out to the karting track to watch him lap until the sun went down. you had always been there, and now, years later, nothing had changed. you’d always be there.

he hands you the helmet, the same way he always does before every race. it’s become a part of your routine - your good luck charm. lando says he won’t race without it, and you know he means it.

“still lucky?” you ask, running your fingers over the sleek surface of the helmet. it’s the same one you kissed before every race, a small but meaningful gesture that had started when you were both teenagers and just stuck.

“hasn’t failed me yet,” he says, eyes softening as he watches you. “besides, I don’t know what I’d do without it.” he shifts closer, his voice lower as he adds, “without you.”

you smile at him, warmth filling your chest. there’s a comfort in the familiarity of it all - of knowing that no matter how chaotic life gets, this part of your day is always just yours. you press a gentle kiss to the top of the helmet, lingering for a second longer than usual, as if sealing all the good luck you could give.

“there,” you whisper, handing it back to him. “you’re all set.”

he takes the helmet with a grin, his eyes never leaving yours. “I think I am now.”

for a moment, the world outside the garage fades, and it’s just the two of you, like it always has been. childhood sweethearts who never grew apart, who stuck together through every high and low. he leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “thank you, for always being here.”

“always,” you promise, as the sounds of the paddock come rushing back in. but even then, nothing can break the quiet bond between you two - not the race, not the noise, nothing. this moment, this little ritual, was yours.

————————————————————————————

© all rights reserved to folkwhoreberry. no stealing or copying will be tolerated.

a/n : wrote this while eating a can of pringles haha

[wynnyfryd]

ventura highway

written for @steddiemicrofic march prompt ‘ride’ + 453 words | rated T | fluff, slice of life, religion, smoking, recreational drug use (it’s only marijuana, dad)

—

Driving around with Eddie is weird. He hotboxes without asking; his music’s weird as shit.

…Steve likes it.

Eddie’s idling outside when Steve’s shift ends, so it’s a no brainer to say yes when he leans out his window like a dog and asks, “Come for a ride?”

Windows up; fresh cigarette; a few rounds of small talk, then Eddie goes, “Son of a bitch I love this song!!!”

Cranks the volume too high to talk. Steve doesn’t mind.

Eventually they roll up to a red light. “Well, goddamn,” Eddie whistles. “The Lutherans are beating me at my own game.”

“Huh?”

He turns the radio down, points out a church sign off the side of the road. Dingy backlit marquee, big black capital letters: WE ARE DUST MADE SACRED BY THE BREATH OF GOD.

“See? That’s metal as shit.”

“The church sign? Really?”

“Mmmmhm.” Eddie’s grinning like Dustin when he’s real pleased about some new science-themed pick-up line for his dork-ass Mormon girlfriend.

Steve throws his hands up. Every time he thinks he understands literally anything these nerds are talking about— “How is church ‘metal?’”

“Are you kidding??”

The light turns.

Eddie drums the steering wheel, tapping the bass line on the gas pedal, the van lurching into motion like a jittery horse. Steve grabs the handle overhead.

The song moves into a bridge, start of a fresh crescendo, and Eddie presses steady on the gas, gaining speed, ten over as the road leaves town and stretches like taffy into undeveloped county highway: trees on all sides, faded and cracked double lines like a yellow brick road, the sun piercing the canopy, adorning Eddie in sunlight freckles — hazy, diffused through the smoke filling the cabin. “Ah, fuck,” Steve realizes. “Is there weed in that?”

Eddie headbangs half-heartedly. “Indeed there is.”

“Shiiiiit.”

“What?” He blinks, waits for a straightaway to look at Steve. “Oh, shit, are you…? Uh. Shit. My bad; here—” He stretches his whole body over Steve’s lap to roll his window down. “Better?”

“Coulda done that myself,” Steve mumbles, but he’s charmed. Does feel better with the crisp breeze on his cheeks; in his lungs. Eddie lowers his own window, the pressure stabilizing in Steve’s ears. “….What were we talking about?”

“Oh, right,” Eddie laughs. “Church is metal. Angels and demons? Hellfire? That’s all The Big Guy’s doing.” He eases the van onto the shoulder at the edge of a field: bright stalks of tall grasses, purple wildflowers, pine trees, the lakefront just beyond.

He cuts the engine and sighs. “A literal saint doesn’t get divinity.”

Steve’s cheeks flush. “Not a saint.”

Eddie turns toward him, lips twisting at the corners as he bites back a warm grin. “I disagree.”

—

thanks for reading 🥰 title is from the song ‘ventura highway’ by america

[moonstruckme]

Hi lovely! I have been having really bad insomnia lately. To the point where I’ve stayed up until 5 am some days. I think it could be due to my upcoming period, which happens sometimes. I was wondering if you could do a poly!marauders, or any one of them, where reader is clearly not getting enough sleep and they/he notice and know her so well that they know why it’s happening. So that night they/he comfort her and coddle her and make her sleepy and it’s suuuuper fluffy and sweet. Love love love your writing Mae!

I'm sorry about your sleep issues lovely! Thank you for the request <3

modern au

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 386 words

You’re half sure Sirius has slipped a benadryl into your nighttime tea. Smugness radiates off him as his thumb draws heavy circles into your hip and you grow lax against his side. Your hair is still damp from the hot shower he’d coaxed you into. 

Sirius’ lips press gently to your forehead, like he’s checking your temperature. “It’s getting late,” he murmurs. Some bitter, sardonic part of you thinks that it’s nowhere near as late as you’ve been going to sleep for the last few nights, but you’re too lazy to voice it. “Ready for bed, sweet girl?” 

You manage a hum, but don’t move. Your bones feel filled with lead. 

Your boyfriend exhales amusedly like he knows. “C’mere, baby. Come on.” 

He turns off the telly and gathers you up against his side, blankets and all. You begin the slow trudge from the sofa to your bed. Your half gone cup of tea is warm between your palms, and Sirius’ presence just as nice where his arm wraps around your waist and his hip presses to yours. 

Peeling back the covers of your bed feels like a herculean feat. You shed your blanket like a hermit crab trading shells, letting Sirius tuck you in. 

“It’s cold,” you mumble. 

“Give me a second.” 

A short time later, Sirius is crawling into bed beside you and the diffuser you could swear he’s never used before is misting a lavender aroma through the room. You can barely see his silhouette moving around in the dark, but you sigh when his leg crosses over yours. 

His lips are curved when they find yours. “Are you comfy?” he asks in a low voice. 

“Yeah.” You mirror his tone. “I feel like I could actually fall asleep.” 

“Good. Don’t overthink it.” 

You are thinking now, though. Slowly, like moving through sap, the pieces of your night come together in your mind. 

“Are you doing this on purpose?” 

Sirius makes a soft, confused sound. “Don’t know what you mean.” 

“You’ve never…you don’t even know how to use the diffuser.” 

“Sweetheart, you sound ridiculous.” His hand comes around your back, making broad, lulling circles. “I use it all the time. You’re just sleep deprived.” 

You hum, acquiescent. “Well, thanks.” 

“Go to sleep, baby.” 

“M’kay. Love you.” 

Sirius kisses between your brows. “Love you.” 

[amypihcs]

Took me a CENTURY to write this, but finally i'm decently satisfied with it!

I love this art, OP, it's really magnificent! Hope you'll like this tiny fic!

A simple life.

Dr Watson rolled his eyes again as Mr Holmes, at his arm, renewed his protests about their outing.

“It is you who insisted on not having a housekeeper.” Remarked Watson.

“Of course. I did not leave our home in Baker Street to behave myself around you.” Replied Holmes, undeterred.

“So we need to take care of the house and this includes taking care of the groceries. Together, Holmes.”

The detective sighed and acquiesced, still muttering under his breath about leaving his experiment.

The doctor smiled. “Oh, but cheer up, Holmes! It is a wonderful autumn day!”

“It’s freezing.”Answered Holmes a smile about his lips, just for the fun of arguing.

Dr Watson laughed at the quip and squeezed Holmes’ arm against his ribs. “Now, darling, don’t be dramatic. And remember your own deductions on Mr Parker.” He winked.

Holmes chuckled softly. “I have also promised you not to test any deduction of that kind, my dear. If Mr Parker is an invert, he certainly has good taste: he can’t take his eyes off you.”

Dr Watson laughed at the detective’s flirt and shushed him playful, pointing then at some detail of the countryside so as to cheer his partner up.

As in most of their trips to get groceries, it was Watson the one who actually took care of choosing their food and Holmes mostly worked as a porter, a very vocal and curious one.

“My dear boy, what sort of inhuman amount of food are you planning for.” Snickered the retired detective, holding onto the pumpkin Watson had pushed in his hands while he browsed the rest of the vegetables on sale.

Watson chuckled. “Should I remind you again that two adult men must eat to live, old man? – He asked rhetorically. – It’s autumn, and we can do a lot of delicious things with pumpkins, and they’ll do you good. Especially now that you’ve somehow taken to eating even less meat than earlier.”

Sherlock Holmes shrugged. “Meat is just quite a bit too heavy, I told you already. I don’t think we actually need to eat as much of it as certain people do, I find my mental energies much less impaired by a vegetable dish than a meat one.”

Dr Watson snickered again, locking his eyes with their green-grocer friend’s and exchanging a look with him.

“Ah, Mr Holmes. You can’t seriously believe that food impairs one’s mental processes!” Laughed Mr Parker, his incredulity painted on his features.

Holmes gave a bark of laughter and the doctor sighed deeply as the detective launched in his explanation.

“As we both know, Holmes, – interrupted at some point Dr Watson. – food is essential to the work of the brain and indeed of the body. I shan’t remind you of the times you fainted on a case, old man, or should I?”

Holmes huffed comically, as their friend hid a smile under his moustache. “This is for my protests, isn’t it?”

“Only partially, my dear Holmes, only partially. It’s also because you’ve been quite cavalier about your meals recently. And it shows.”

“You truly are biassed, dear boy. – Huffed Holmes, barely restraining himself from circling his husband’s waist. – I shall bow to your desire for food then, if only to make you stop worry.” He smiled.

Dr Watson chuckled again, now together with Mr Parker. “Thank you for such concession, old man.”

Holmes grinned a well-known mischievous grin. “Ah, we’ll see to my payment later.” He smirked as Watson paid for their shopping, almost making him choke on saliva to stop himself from laughing.

He coughed a bit to regain composure. “Sure thing old man. We shall indeed see about it at home.” He replied in a low growl that made some blood rush at Holmes’ gaunt cheeks.

Dr Watson grinned at the sight, and took his leave from the market stand with all his best London cordiality, Holmes’ arm safely in the crook of his elbow and every intention of paying his darling back for his concession and his impertinence.

And patience if the transaction might lead to a slightly delayed lunch, they would be very much able to cope.

Sussex fall market 1910

Sorry for late autumn pic

[nickfowlerrr]

something good and true - part 4

series masterlist

pairing: mob boss!bucky barnes x reader

warnings: 18+ ONLY. smut. oral (f and m receiving). spitting. mention of spanking. unprotected sex. pet names (doll, sweetheart, baby). fluff.

words: 7.5k

notes: last part! thank you for reading this little series, i hope you’ve enjoyed it. please let me know your thoughts! as always, comments reblogs and feedback are more than welcome and so appreciated. 🩵

It’s been a few weeks now since you and Bucky first kissed; dinners, dates, and late night calls marking the passing of time.

Not much has changed in terms of your physical connection, but it seems like every time you see Bucky, you get closer and closer to doing more than just kissing.

The more comfortable you’ve gotten around him, the more comfortable he’s gotten at letting his hands wander you. All over you.

It was just the other night that Bucky came over to your place, actually going inside for the first time. He had picked you up from work, and when you asked if he wanted to come in for a minute, he readily agreed.

He looked a bit out of place as he sat on the couch in your living room, his expensive suit really standing out against the well loved furniture and cheap throw draped on the back of it. You suddenly felt a little self conscious at the lack of anything truly nice in your home… Bucky’s home was incredible, full of the nicest decor and furniture you’d seen outside of a magazine or movie. You wondered what he thought about the place. It was silly, you knew he wasn’t judging you, he hadn’t before. But still, a small part of you couldn’t help but compare the obvious differences between the two of you. That was, until he looked over at you standing still a bit away with a glass in hand for him and smiled that crooked smile of his.

“You gonna stand there all night, doll?”

You blinked and took a breath, letting out a titter as you walked over to him.

“Sorry, got distracted,” you admitted.

“Me and my good looks distracting you, sweetheart?” he teased as you sat next to him, taking the glass in his right hand and sliding his left arm to rest on the back of the couch, behind you.

“Just a bit,” you simpered, looking into his bright eyes as you let yourself get closer to him, all previous self consciousness gone. He placed his glass on the table next to him as he turned even further toward you.

“You distract me, too,” he spoke, his voice low, his timbre sending a warm thrill through you as he held your gaze. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you during my meeting tonight. Dangerous territory I’m getting lost in here,” his hand found its way to your thigh as he spoke, and you didn’t realize he was leaning into you until his left hand left the couch and came to hold your head, keeping you in place as he inched closer.

“Dangerous?”, you breathed, “that’s what everyone says about you.” His nose brushed against yours, your lips mere inches apart as you spoke.

“That scare you?” he drawled.

“No. Well…Not anymore. Not now that I know you,” you take a stuttering breath as your lips graze his, “I trust you.”

Something flashed in his eyes at your admission, a fondness, a bit of ease, maybe. And undeniably, awe.

It wasn’t a second later that he urged closer and his lips slotted against your own, sparks seeming to ignite under his touch. The way they always did. You kissed him back, just as softly, while letting him lead. You liked it that way.

He parted first, his words sending those warm fuzzies aglow in your chest and belly as he spoke.

“Good,” he met your eye, “You know you never have to be scared of me, right? You never had to be.”

Your breath stilled as you listened to him, your heart seized in your chest. Your soft lips were parted as you peered into his crystal blue eyes, wanting - needing him to continue.

He half smiled as he held your gaze in turn, a soft laugh leaving his lips, the warm, honey like sound causing you to lean into him without even noticing. “I didn't want to admit it then, but I was gone for you the moment I laid eyes on you, doll. I couldn’t even pinpoint what it was about you if I tried, I just saw you and…” he trailed off.

Your eyes were glued to him as you listened and studied him as intently as ever. The sincerity in his voice, in his gaze, in his touch as he gently brushed your cheek, it was undeniable.

You watched as something seemed to click and become clear in his head and his next words came out like it was the easiest, most obvious thing in the world.

“It was you.”

His voice was softer, but lower, too and it sent a shiver you couldn’t hide, but weren’t embarrassed of, through you.

Bucky leaned in again, pressing his lips once more to yours and kissing you so gently you could have melted right into him. Instead, though, you found yourself leaning back and back and back as he guided you down on the cushions, his body following yours. He pulled away for just a moment as he moved around, taking off his jacket before pulling your legs up so you were now lying on the couch beneath his strong body.

Again, you were momentarily distracted by the stark differences between you two. He was strong, burly, muscular - his biceps were well on display, tight against the sleeves of his shirt as he held himself above you, seemingly checking in with you to make sure what he was doing was okay before he carried on, whereas you were soft, and fleshy, and thick in places you’d always been a bit self conscious of.

Bucky had one hand cradling your head as he let his other wander the curves of your body. He was straddling you, keeping himself above you as he kissed you deeply. As if he could hear your thoughts, he said exactly what you needed to hear to get those pointless worries out of your head.

His hand felt down your waist to your hip where he held you, squeezing the soft flesh there in his big hand, the low groan that left him sending a thrill through you. “You’re so fuckin soft,” he said against your lips, voice thick with admiration and desire as you nearly whimpered into his kiss, one of your hands going to his hair as you held him to you.

As you kissed him back with growing heat, you felt his tongue pressing against the seam of your lips and readily let him in. His tongue slipped into your mouth and you really couldn’t help but moan at feeling.

You could feel yourself getting hotter and hotter, the slick between your legs growing as you tried hard to not writhe underneath him, pushing your thick thighs as close together as possible to try and quell the neediness he was stoking in you.

He broke the kiss and the darkened blue of his eyes danced with a want you were sure matched your own.

You managed to scoot yourself up some, hoping the way you squeezed your legs together wasn’t too obvious as you waited for his next move.

Him leaning back and climbing off the couch was not what you had anticipated, but it was indeed what happened, much to your disappointment.

You watched as he stood and ran a hand through his dark hair, pushing the fallen strands away from his face and only noticed the growing erection pressing against his pants when he moved to discreetly adjust himself.

You felt your face burn at the realization that you were doing to him exactly what he was doing to you. It was good to know you weren’t the only one feeling so worked up after just a little make out session. It normally took quite a bit more to get you feeling like that, but god with Bucky it seemed like all he had to do was look at you a certain way and you were flustered and tingling for him.

“I’m sorry, doll,” he apologized as he turned away to adjust himself before turning back to face you. “I shouldn’t have tried to start something I know I can’t finish.”

You were sure the confusion was clear on your face as you pushed yourself to fully sit up, sliding your legs off the couch to be seated once more.

He reached a hand out for you to grab and when you did, he pulled you up and straight to him, eliciting a gasp from you as he held you against him. You could feel the shape of his hard cock pressing against your soft belly as he did and it sent a whole new wave of arousal through you. God, you could’ve actually whimpered at the feeling.

His arms circled your waist and his hands settled perfectly on your ass as he looked at you.

“Because the first time I get you undressed and under me, I plan on keeping you there all night,” he said with a light squeeze of your bottom that had you pressing yourself further against him. And it was like your mouth was moving before you even registered your own words and could stop yourself…

“Hopefully not just under you all night,” you replied, your voice heavy and heady with want as your hands roamed his thick torso. You were staring into his beautifully darkened eyes as you continued in a sultry whisper you don’t think you’d ever heard from yourself before, “because I like to imagine you taking me from behind.”

You blinked up at him and the hunger in his eyes made your insides twist, and the low, throaty sound like a growl that escaped him at your confession had his hands squeezing you tighter against him and your pussy fluttering.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna take you any way you’ll let me.”

“I’d let you take me any way you like,” you responded dutifully - and god, did you mean it.

You’ve never spoken so dirty to anyone you weren’t actively in bed with before but this was just coming out of you, you weren’t putting much of any thought or effort into your words, just saying what was coming so easily.

And it was all his doing.

He raised a hand to hold your face in his palm, his fingers spread across your soft skin as he did.

“Call me crazy but somehow I just knew you’d be my perfect fit,” he smirked, “all soft and sweet at a glance, but you got a dirty little mouth on you, don’t you doll?”

“I’d be happy to show you just how dirty if you’d like,” you teased, running a hand up and down his strong arm holding you, the other still on his chest.

God, had you actually just said that? You’d never once enjoyed giving head, but the thought of sinking down on your knees before Bucky and taking him in your mouth, feeling the heavy weight of his cock on your tongue, pleasing him, making him come undone, fuck, you felt yourself getting wet at the thought. What the hell had gotten into you!

You seemed to snap yourself straight and released a heavy breath, pushing just a bit away from him. “God, I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m- ugh,” you sighed, growing a bit agitated at yourself and the desperate need for this man that won’t stop burning in you. “You should probably go, I’m liable to jump on you any second now.” He laughed a beautiful sound and you chanced a glance at him as you continued, “You’re kinda driving me crazy, here, Bucky,” you breathed a self-deprecating smile, “I’m not usually like this…”

“No, I like it. It’s nice to know you want me as much as I want you... And fuck, do I want you.”

You were so mesmerized by his heavy gaze you were a little surprised when his lips met yours once more. Your moan emboldened him further as he deepened the kiss, lips molding against one another before his phone ringing pulled him away.

He didn’t bother to check who it was calling, it seemed he already knew. “Come over tomorrow?”, he asked.

“I can’t,” you replied, not bothering to hide your disappointment. “I’m having family dinner with my parents. Day after?”

“I’ll pick you up,” he agreed with another kiss, one much lighter. “These fuckin’ late night meetings,” he groaned against your lips. “Gonna have to get these guys on a new schedule.”

You smiled into his soft kiss, “Okay, go,” you told him.

“‘M goin’,” he assured you with another kiss. Then another. And another. You could feel yourself getting lost in him again.

“Go,” you urged him to the door with a titter. “You’re gonna get Steve banging on my door again,” you laugh at the memory of a similar makeout session last week that had Bucky off schedule and his right hand man scowling at your door.

You got his discarded jacket, handed it to him, and then smoothed it out for him when he had put it on.

“Not worried about it,” he said, “they’d wait all night for five seconds of my time.”

His surety and confidence in that fact did something to you. And it served as a reminder; you weren’t dealing with just any guy here. You were with James Bucky Barnes. And you knew what he said was true because you knew you’d wait all night for him, too. Then your heart fluttered in your chest because you also knew that, despite the fact that he very well could, he’d never keep you waiting.

-

“Hi,” you murmured under his heated gaze as he took your hand. You tried to bite your cheek to keep your smile from taking over your face at his reaction. His eyes drank you in and you don’t think he even realized he did it as his hands settled on your hips almost instinctively while he held you in place for a moment, gaze roving up and down your dress clad figure. With anyone else you’d probably have feared you were doing a little too much for dinner at home, but not with Bucky. He was dressed as nicely as ever and for once you felt you looked like you belonged on his arm. Your hair looked great and your makeup was near flawless, and though he couldn’t see it just yet, the lingerie you were wearing underneath this dress accentuated your curves in the best way. This is probably the longest you’ve gone seeing someone without sleeping with them, and though you’re grateful that Bucky has been nothing if not a gentleman this entire time, not pressuring you to go further even once, you’re more than ready for all of the next steps now.

You could still feel the heavy weight of his gaze on you as you turned to face your front door and lock it, his hands still on your hips. Not that you disliked it. You didn’t spend the better half of the day getting ready to not get a reaction from him. And you were quite enjoying the one he was giving you.

As you turned back to him, it was less than a second before his lips were on yours. He was kissing you so sweetly but you could both feel the undercurrent of desire coursing beneath it.

“Beautiful as ever,” he said in a low whisper when he pulled away.

You smiled as you met his eye before he took your hand again, leading you to his car.

-

His hand was warm on your thigh and the entire drive all you could think about was him sliding his touch higher and higher… He didn’t, gentleman he was, but his soft squeezes every so often let you know he was thinking the same thoughts you were. You had to stifle a laugh and a grin at the heavy, throaty breath he released when you spread your legs a little further for his touch. He had instinctively inched his hand higher before stopping himself and squeezing your soft flesh a bit more harshly.

You were tempted to take his hand in yours and move it to where you both wanted it yourself, but he was already pulling into the winding driveway of his home when the vision flashed through your mind. You sighed to yourself, you could be patient. Neither of you had said it aloud, but you both knew tonight was going to be the night.

He helped you out of the car, your heels clacking softly on the ground as you followed him inside.

The lack of any noise and aroma coming from the kitchen piqued your curiosity as you passed and Bucky shortly after supplied you with an explanation.

“The chef will start dinner in an hour or so, but have you eaten, do you want anything?”

“No, I’m okay,” you reassured him.

He had stopped walking and turned to face you, both of you standing there in the quiet just gazing at one another for a long second until you took a step closer to him and continued.

“Bucky,” you hedged.

“Yes?”

You looked at him through your painted lashes. “There was one room you didn’t show me the last time I was here… I was wondering if I could see it now.”

He closed the short distance between you, pulling you against his burly body, his hands smoothing up your waist and rib cage, his thumbs stopping just under your breasts before sliding his touch back down to your hips. He clearly understood your meaning right away.

“Like I could ever say no to that face.”

You are caught completely off guard as he easily lifts you off your feet, a yelp escaping you at the sudden movement. Bucky just chuckled and though you can’t say you’ve ever been carried or even momentarily taken off your feet by a man before, you instinctively hold onto him as he walks you down the lone hallway he hadn’t taken you down before. You’re amazed at how effortless it seems to be for him, though by his beefy, muscular frame, you’re not sure why you’re so surprised. He probably benches your weight and then some.

Bucky walks you into the room and your eyes are all over the place as he sets you down to sit on the edge of his king bed.

The room is huge. Like, the entirety of the floor plan of your house, huge.

He practically has an entire living room in his bedroom and you sit in a stupor at the sight. You almost can’t believe this is actually real. There’s a fireplace at the end of the room, a television on the wall above it and a small couch across from it. An in wall bookcase is nestled in the corner by the window, a little nook there to sit and read.

A leather bound journal sits on the small table before the couch and the chair beside it, an errant pen that looks like it rolled away from its spot on the journal sits just next to it. There’s an ornate rug underneath the furniture atop the shiny wooden flooring, and an area rug beneath the bed too. As you sit on the bed, facing the door to the room that you just came in from, there’s another door to your left. It’s slightly a jar and you can see just from a glance that it’s the bathroom. You turn to look behind you and find another door you assume leads to the closet and another huge window that is covered by thick curtains. The room is warmly lit and the plush duvet under your fingers is insanely soft.

It’s not until you look at Bucky that you find him already staring at you. You smile sheepishly.

“This is really nice,” you compliment lamely.

“It is,” he agrees. But with the way he’s gazing at you perched comfortably on his bed, you get the feeling he’s referring to something else.

You feel your skin burn as your thoughts take off. He likes having you in his room. He likes having you on his bed. You wonder what he’s thinking about you doing on his bed… God, you are a long way from your teenage years, yet he’s got you here feeling like a high schooler all over again. Though really, you don’t think you’ve ever felt like this with anyone, at any point.

Your thought is quickly forgotten as Bucky now stands before you, you spread your legs without thinking as he settles between them, taking your face gently in his hands as he admires you.

He bends down to kiss you, your lashes fluttering shut at his touch.

He chuckles as you shimmy and lean back, the lapels of his jacket in your hands as you urge him down with you. You like the feeling of him on top of you. His heat radiates through the clothes and you feel more secure in this moment than you ever have before. There isn’t a single worry in your head, there isn’t anything at all except for you and Bucky.

You blindly move around and Bucky helps reposition you as he smiles against your lips until you finally feel your head laying on a pillow. You blink your eyes open as he pulls away and you watch as he moves down your body, hands trailing slowly until he reaches your shoes. He gently slips your heels off your feet and lets them fall on the other side of the bed. His warm palms slide up your calves, goosebumps raising in his wake as he feels the softness of your legs. Just when you think he’s about to raise your dress up your thighs, he is gone again, sitting back and removing his own shoes. You can’t help but smile at the sight as you sit up on your elbows to watch him. A thrilling anticipation shoots through you as he then slips off his jacket before turning back to face you.

You find yourself in a very familiar situation as he moves up your body, hovering over you. This time though, you have parted your legs for him and he slots himself between your plush thighs - your dress now barely covering your bottom as it’s rolled up.

It’s quiet and still for a moment as Bucky looks down at you like you’re a gift from God himself. His hands are teasingly slow as he wanders your curves, determined to commit every one to his memory lest you disappear right before him as suddenly as you appeared and took over his world.

His hand cradles your cheek and he allows his lips to brush yours, a devastating tingle spreading through you at the simple but intimate touching. You shudder a breath beneath him and then he’s kissing you again. His lips are fervent against your own, then he’s leading the delicate dancing of your tongues as you allow him to slip past your lips. You can feel him as he presses against you, his erection growing and stiff against your center. You moan as he mindlessly rolls his hips into yours and you decide you can’t take the waiting much longer.

You allow your hands to slip down your bodies until you reach the waistband of his pants, tugging at them before trying to fumble with the zip. He groans against you as you try to raise your hips up, searching for more of him.

He pulls away and breathes a husky breath, “You sure you wanna do this now?”

His darkened blue eyes are intent on yours as he waits for your answer, watching for any unspoken thought from you to be revealed in your heady gaze.

“I’m sure,” you say with zero hesitation, “...are you?”

His lips crash against yours hotly before he responds.

“Sweetheart, you have no fucking idea.”

He pulls away to get his pants off and rids himself of his shirt soon after while you work your way out of your dress.

He is left in tight gray boxers as you lay before him in only your deep purple lace lingerie.

You can see the way he breathes a little heavier as his eyes darken even more while he takes in your visage and form. “You’re a dream,” he says more to himself than to you as he tentatively reaches out to touch you; it’s different feeling you up over clothes, now he gets to really touch you, to feel your soft skin against his rough hands, the chills that overtake you under his touch…

He starts at your shoulders, fingers roaming under the straps of your bra, down to your chest. He lets his fingers drag over your breasts, playing with your pert nipples for just a second through the lace before he continues down. He then spreads his palms out as he smooths down your ribs, squeezing the curve of your waist, his thumbs rubbing circles on the top of your wide set hips before he slides down even more to hold them tight. His fingers find the waistband of your bottoms and he looks into your eyes just as he’s about to slide them down. It takes you a second to realize he’s waiting for your go ahead but when you do, you nod - your desire palpable as you watch him. The beginnings of a smirk pull at his lips as he slowly, purposefully slowly, drags the purple lace down your thick thighs, his lips ghosting the material as he kisses lightly all the way down your legs until he discards them with the rest of your clothes.

You’ve closed your thighs in his descent and as he moves to work his way back up, he urges you to spread them for him once again. It’s a soft push and then his hands are sliding up between your thighs while you let them fall open for him as he makes sure to feel every inch of your softness.

Your breath catches as he gets closer and closer to where you want him until his arms slide up under your thighs as he brings you to him. With one hand, he grabs a pillow beside you and instructs you to raise up for him as he places it under your hips, leaving you exactly where he wants you as you follow his words.

His warm palms slide up the sides of your thighs until he’s grabbing your soft hips and his fingers tickle your bottom.

You gasp when you feel his hot breath on your wet and wanting core and your eyes shut as he moves in even closer, his tongue reaching out to taste you. He licks, slow and firm, through your glistening folds, up your slit to your sensitive clit, circling the bud with the tip of his tongue, your muscles already tensing under his tendings.

He slips his tongue back down and does it again, spreading the mixture of your wetness and his saliva up and down your pussy. It’s fucking heaven.

He dives in deeper when you moan his name, tugging on his hair in your pleasure. His nose nuzzles your clit as he moves his face back and forth, eating you out like he’s starved. You whine when you feel him spit on your cunt, flattening his tongue and licking your sensitive lips firmly before he starts to suck on your clit. Your voice squeaks at the intense pleasure and your thighs threaten to shut around his head but he holds your soft, thick thighs open with his strong hands, moaning into your slick pussy when he begins to fuck you with his tongue. Your toes are curling as your hips try to follow his movements, but again, his strength keeps you in place, prolonging the pleasurable torture. You watch on as Bucky gets his fill of you, his face deep in concentration, like the only thing he cares about is tasting you and making you feel good. His only real objective getting you to come, making you come for him. And as his lips wrap around your clit once more and he pulls you closer to his face, one hand ghosting from your hip to the entrance of your pussy, he slips in one, then two thick digits into your cunt, curling them just right as he moves them gently but firmly in and out of you, working you open for him, scissoring them inside you, he gets exactly what he wants. With a gasp, a shudder, and a hundred moans of his name - a chant falling off your lips, you come hard on his fingers. Your walls tight on his digits as he moans and works to drink up your release, slipping out of you carefully before licking and sucking up your mess along your delicate cunt. Your legs slowly untense and you work to catch your breath as he moves to come back up your body.

“Fair warning,” he heeds darkly, “you’re gonna be sitting on my face later tonight.” You can’t stop the giggle that leaves you unbidden as he crawls up you. He licks his lips wolfishly like he’s still savoring the taste of you. “I’ve just found my newest vice.”

He kisses you slowly and you can taste yourself on his tongue as his hard cock nudges against you. “See how fucking good you taste?” He breathes against your lips. “Feel what you do to me?” He rolls his hips again. You look down with a breathy moan and see a wet spot on his briefs, a new wave of arousal taking over you at the sight. As much as you want to feel him inside of you for the first time, stretching you, filling you up, you can’t help the urge to first feel him in your mouth. You want to - no, you need to taste him, too.

He kisses you again as you lean up to him, rolling his hips against you more. You sit up and Bucky watches you with a furrowed brow, following your movements until you turn and urge him to swap places with you.

Once his head is on the pillow below him, he lets himself get comfortable with you between his legs. You lean to kiss him again, noses brushing against each other as it deepens. Soft murmurs escaping you as Bucky lets out a heavy breath, bordering on a moan as your hand trails down his strong torso and reaches his pelvis. You let your fingers skim along the band of his boxers and he hisses when you brush against his straining cock.

Carefully, you start to free him as you trail kisses from his neck, down his chest, his sternum, his stomach. He springs free as you get the boxers down his solid thighs, moving back some to get them off of him. Bucky is a little impatient it seems as he ends up kicking them the rest of the way off, his heady eyes set on you.

You smile at the look of barely restrained lust on his face while you move back toward him.

You set your gaze on his thick length, grasping him with your manicured hand as you lean in to lick from his base to his tip, swirling your tongue around his head and tasting the precum you find there. You can’t help the sultry moan that leaves you at the taste of him on your tongue.

You lave your tongue back down his shaft and up again, your tongue tickling his balls and you burn at the reaction you get out of him. You pump his length in your hand as he tries to maintain his breathing- all the while his blue eyes are glued to you and your every move.

You let the saliva in your mouth drip down onto his cock before you finally take the tip of him into your mouth, sucking him off as your hand continues to work his length and your other moves to fondle his balls. The curses and throaty groans coming from Bucky only spur you on as you work to take more of his heavy cock into your mouth. You’re bobbing your head up and down on him with about half his shaft past your lips and your hand still working the rest of him with a firm hold, your cheeks are hollow as you suck and spit leaks from your lips as you keep moving. You’re a sight to be seen, a debauched mess, really. But you just can’t care. You moan when you feel his hand come to hold you where you are before he guides your head down further to take even more of him. He’s at the back of your throat and you moan and sputter as your eyes water while you breathe through your nose and try to relax your throat, taking as much of him as you possibly can before he guides you back up for air. Your saliva clings to him and you spit again on his cock head, wrapping your hand around him and jerking him off as you catch your breath. When you move to take him in your mouth again, he stops you.

Your eyes flash to his and he answers your unspoken question, “You got me right on the fucking edge already, doll,” he breathes heavily, voice thick with hunger as he urges you back up to him. You gasp in surprise when he gets you where he wants you and flips you over so he’s on top once more, “but I need to be inside you.” He kisses you fervently, “I wanna feel you wrapped around me. Wanna feel you squeeze me. Wanna come inside your pretty pussy, and I wanna feel you come on my cock.”

You're a mess of whimpers and airy moans as he trails your body with kisses between his words. You almost don’t even notice him taking your bra off as you get lost in his touches.

You watch him then, as his big hands palm your breasts, squeezing them, leaning down to kiss your soft skin before his tongue licks your pert nipple, toying with the other as he swirls his tongue and sucks on your tit and relishes your moans before switching his attentions.

“Bucky,” your calling of his name is a desperate plea that falls on his ears as you wrap your leg around him. You can feel his heavy cock nudging you and god all you want is for him to finally press into you and fill you up.

He listens to your prayers and moves back up your body so you’re face to face before he kisses you again.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you,” he confesses against your lips, holding himself above you with one arm as the other drags down between your bodies. He grips his cock and guides himself to your entrance, earning a gasp from you as his tip nudges you. “Think about you all the damn time.”

He pushes in just slightly and you can already feel him stretching you.

“Me too,” you admit as your arms come to hold him. “All the time.”

He cocks a crooked smile at that and leans down for another kiss, pushing further into you with the movement. You whimper into the kiss as his thick length opens you more to him. He lets his hand hold onto your soft, squeezable hip as he moves inside you, a heady breath escaping him as your tight walls constrict around his cock.

He moves slowly, pushing deep inside you and making sure you feel every inch of him before he slides back and repeats his motions. It’s a torturous heaven as you moan beneath him, grasping onto his sturdy frame while he takes you.

He rolls his hips into yours, his fingertips digging into your softness as he holds you.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he husks as his hand slides over to your belly, feeling you there too. You feel the pressure of his heavy palm on you and you don’t know why the feeling along with his words have the effect they do, but you find yourself closer and closer to your end as he drags his length in and out of your tight walls, feeling you and fucking you like you’ve never experienced before.

You move a hand to snake between you, you're so close you just need a little more. But before you can reach your clit, Bucky’s hand stops you.

“No,” he pants, “I got you, baby.”

Your walls clench around him at his words and then you feel his finger on your clit, the perfect pressure, moving in perfect rhythm and he winds you higher.

“Oh, fuck,” you cry, your eyes stinging with tears, it feels so fucking good. “Bucky, please, oh my god, please please please”, you chant mindlessly.

“I got you, baby,” he repeats, “you wanna come for me? Huh?” his breathing is heavy and his voice is tight as he fucks you faster and deeper. “Come on my cock, let me feel you, sweetheart.”

You squeak and your voice peaks, your orgasm is near blinding as it hits you hard. Wave after euphoric wave while you feel yourself shake.

“Fuck yes,” Bucky nearly shouts, “squeeze my cock, just like that, baby, fuck.”

Your walls pulse around his thick length as you shudder and cry, muscles tensed as you ride out the high that seems never ending. Your nails are digging into his skin as you hold onto him and he doesn’t seem to mind one bit as he loses himself in the feeling of you. His hips rock against yours and then he’s pounding into you, hard and fast as he chases his orgasm, hitting you so deep you know you’ll be feeling him for days.

Just as you start to come down from your orgasm, Bucky’s hits him. His hand is on your hip again as he pumps into you slower now, long, deep strokes; your name in a mix of moans and praises and curses falling from his pretty lips.

You feel his cum filling you up and moan again as you feel it leak from you, your pussy still milking his cock slowly in the shudder of your afterglow. He gasps and pants as he presses his forehead to yours.

Your fingers find their way into his hair as you pull him down for a kiss, your lips melding with his as he comes down from his high, too. It’s slow and lazy and so sweet.

He carefully pulls out of you, the mess between your legs even more evident now.

“Fuck,” he mumbles to himself, sounding a little amazed at the sight. He kisses your forehead quickly before he gets off the bed. “Hold on,” he tells you.

You watch him slip into the bathroom and sigh into the mattress as you hear the tap come on. He’s back in a flash with a damp rag and your heart flutters as he eases your legs back open, carefully, dutifully, cleaning you up. He’s gone again and then back after another moment, clean himself.

He lays beside you with a contented breath and tugs you into him.

“Thank you,” you murmur with a smile as you let your head rest on his chest.

“You okay?” He asks, checking in as his hand soothes up and down your side.

You nod, tilting to meet his eye, “Better than.”

You move up a bit, no longer on his chest and he moves onto his side, too so you're face to face and chest to chest. He leans in for a kiss and it starts out slow and languid, but it builds as he pulls your thigh over his hip and allows himself to lie down again, causing you to be a top him as you smile and titter into the kiss.

He doesn’t seem to mind the weight of you as his hands wander your plush, pliable body, kissing you all the while.

“Doll,” he murmurs against your lips.

“Hm?” you respond into his kiss before parting to hear him.

His eyes seem to twinkle up at you as he stares into your very soul, his hands settling into their favorite spot on your hips as his thumbs rub your skin.

“You know I got you, right?” His voice is a low rumble that sends a warmth right through you and has your heart skipping a beat.

You nod lightly, “I know, Bucky… And it may not pack the same weight, but, for what it's worth… I got you, too.”

His lips twitch, his sea blue gaze never straying from you.

“Be mine.”

It’s not a question, more a suggestion that you can’t help but smile at.

You lean into him and press another soft kiss to his lips.

“I already am.”

His hand is on your head then as he keeps you to him, his lips slotting against yours as he kisses you deeply, if not a little sloppily. But you couldn’t care in the slightest as you return his affection with the same fervor, your hands on his face as you smile into his kisses.

-

Dinner is a rather intimate affair as Bucky has the meal brought to his bedroom door instead of the table.

Your ass is a bit sore, in the very best way, as you sit with him on the couch near the fireplace while you eat.

He wanted to know every little detail of what you’d imagined him doing to you before and when you told him your dirty thoughts that would keep you up at night and plague you during your days, he made it his mission to give you everything you’d desired and then some.

The way he took you from behind while you were on all fours, his big, rough hands on your hips, kneading and squeezing your supple softness and slapping your ass, breathing hard and heavy, growls of dirty words and praises like music to your ears as he pulled you back onto his cock, fucking you so perfectly… ah you needed to focus on the food - you could feel yourself getting wet again already.

You snuggled into him with a blanket wrapped around your body as he wore nothing still but a pair of shorts he’d pulled from his dresser when he went to speak to his staff about the change in dinner plans.

He’s staring again, you can feel it.

And god, what a feeling it is.

You look over to him as you take another bite from your bowl.

“What?” You ask with a demure smile after you swallow.

He smiles back, his tongue sticking out and wetting his lips before he responds, “Tell me again.”

You don’t hesitate, you think you like saying it as much as he likes to hear it.

“I’m yours, Bucky.”

His arm comes around your waist and pulls you closer as you let yourself lean into him. You can tell he has more to say, so you set down your bowl and give him your full attention, turning more into him.

“Your dad is a good man,” he says thoughtfully, “a good father.”

“Yeah, he is,” you agree, still waiting for him to say what he’s holding onto, and not really wanting to talk about your dad right now.

“I’m sure he’ll always want to protect you, and I respect that, I admire it. But you have me now. So, not that anything will, but should anything happen - anyone bothers you, so much as looks at you wrong, you tell me, I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of you. And anything you could ever want or need, doll,” he tilts your chin more towards him as he stares into your eyes, “say the word and you’ve got it.”

You really don’t know what to say as you stare at him a little dumbfounded, stupefied. You know he means it, every word, and it makes your heart clench and your stomach swirl. You’ve got it because he’s got you, and you’ve never felt so cherished or so important to someone.

“Bucky, I… I-,”

“You don’t have to say anything, sweetheart,” he stops you, smiling softly, “I just needed to make sure you know.”

You smile back.

“Well, now that you mention, there actually is something I’d like…”

“Uh huh,” he prompts, a smirk on his lips as he eyes you curiously, the playful glint in your eyes giving away your intent.

You lean closer to him, your hands on his chest, fingers running along the hair there. “Would it be okay if I stayed the night?” Visions of his words from the other night running through your head. You’re more than happy to spend the rest of your night under him, in front of him, on top of him… then curious thoughts pop up about what it’d be like to wake up with him, his arms snug around you, his warmth keeping the early morning chill away…

You meet his eye and his brows furrow, a frown pulling on his lips now.

“Were you planning on leaving?” His offended response leaves you laughing before you get pulled in for a kiss.

You murmur against his lips, “Not for a second.”

series tags: @peaches1958 @homiesexual-or-homosexual @lunarnerdqueen @mrsnikstan