#tish’s move

[cinewhore]

WE GOT THE APARTMENT!

[hassianlovebot]

disregard entire fucking post im stupid as fuck bro

[mookybear12404]

I literally cant even go to the bathroom without the baby crying

[dilftaroooo]

Being perverted strikes naturally within Gojo, so when the idea of being a step brother comes to mind during sex he can’t help but act upon the roleplay. You think he’s gross for it, but his questionable passion for it keeps you engaged (oddly enough).

☆word count: 6.3k+

★tags/tw(18+): dark content + stepc*st roleplay + foot f*tish + toe sucking (f!recieving) + dubcon (because reader is unsure at first) + reader is college-aged/gojo is 28 + squirting + age gap + vanilla sex + pubic hairs + scent kink + implied ass eating + hesitancy + reader is afab using she/her pronouns + mentioned latex kink + use of 'satoru-nii' + established relationship + gojo is a lil' mean + and sassy + lots of kissing + nipple play + creampie + getting caught having s*x + exploring kinks + praise kink + pet names + skull fucking + gag reflex + snot + we're talkin' 'big beefy whore with black compression shirt' gojo here + reader is a bit inexperienced + questions of certain kinks.

☆a/n: hey alexa, play 'poundtown by sexyy red' ayyye come suck a bitch's toooes. enjoy y'all, this shit nasty af.

You’re not a kink shamer.

You understand the sexual thrills of getting off to something that turns one on to the point of fulfilled ecstasy–weighted breaths and skin coated with a sheen of sweat from the unorthodox fantasies that provoke the human mind and manipulate the human body, keeping them bound to the shackles of pleasure as their perversion engulfs them whole. It feels beautiful–ethereal, dare you say, and you get that. Who wouldn’t want to feel blissfully satisfied just by mere thought alone? 

Now, exclusive of the deranged fetishes involving children, scat, or whatever fucked up shit out there that's befitting for a lowlife, you would say that you're a pretty open-minded individual. Always tolerating the naughty anecdotes told by your friends’ concerning their past hookups, distinctively remembering the giggles you all shared when reciting one of the stories from a particular friend that had them clad in a latex suit, lips decorated with ruby red, and three-inched heels coming into contact with the cheek of their previous partner as they squirmed in shameless arousal.

‘It was pathetic to see, but I’d be a liar if I said it didn’t get me going…’ And that mutuality between both parties is what makes it even more fun. They both get a kick out of something they enjoyed, so what’s to hate about it?

You’re not a kink shamer–not at all.

You and your boyfriend of a year and four months, Satoru Gojo, always carried the qualities of a couple depicted in unrealistic romance movies: the nuzzle of the nose that tickled your cheek before delving in for a peck, the surprise hugs he’d startle you with as you prepared an early morning breakfast, as well as the intertwined fingers while you both make your way to his favorite bakery (his kisses are even more sugared after scarfing down the kikufuku he’d order no more than a minute ago).

You always felt like the princess to his prince, stumbling over your gown to keep up with his hurried footsteps as you both venture through the gracious evergreen of a mythical forest. You have no time to remove the pastel violet and pink petals slotting themselves in your locks since your hand remains occupied with Satoru’s, moving exquisitely to the melodic song of the nightingales. It was a dream from a childhood storybook.

Moreover, what was revealed in public was, undoubtedly, the same in the comfort of your bedroom, living at your university’s on-campus apartment that you shared with two indifferent roommates. He would frequently stop by after work to spoil you with his affection. Always asking how your day was and whether or not you finished your assignments.

He was a tad bit older than you–twenty-eight and going, but you didn’t mind the age gap, it gives you all the more reason to tease him for his ‘old’ age, to which he responds with a pout and furrowed eyebrows, ‘Oh, how mean! Who would’ve ever thought that my darling angel could be such a devil…?!’ He’d say with faux anguish. He knows you’re only playing around–such the jokester.

Though, he couldn’t say the same for you in bed. Protected by the warmth of your sheets, you relished at how accustomed your body and soul were to his heartfelt transactions, vanilla-flavored sex, so sweet and tasteful on your tongue as he kissed you with want. Tongues twirling a sensual dance as your lips combine in rhythmic harmony. You also loved it when he coos in your ear, reminding you of how you’re so good to him before wrapping his lips around puffy areolas in a way that makes you writhe.

He’s so gentle with you. Handling a fine china cabinet with the utmost care, he makes sure he touches you in ways that wouldn’t break your fragile body. And when your nude skin presses against his as a result of his thrusts to your core, he reminds himself to get you moaning in his ear and get your hands gripping against the muscular curvature of his back.

It feels good. It always feels good. So, why does a part of you feel…bored?

The love is there, you won’t question that. When you come, you feel as though you’re one with the stars. And above all, he praises you. It’s nothing new, but in this context, you like to be his ‘pretty girl’ whenever the tip of his nose pushes against your wet clit. So, why do you feel like something is missing? You don’t know.

You haven’t been in many relationships. The last one you remember was in high school, dating a boy who only loved you out of teenage fever, and you shamefully admit that you reciprocated his confession. You were both young and unknowing of what the aspects of ‘love’ really meant. You never went past the boundary of hand-holding and cheek-kissing, so it remained stagnant until the moment you both broke up.

None of it was mutual, however. You can recall how distraught you were as you bawled in your mother’s arms, asking her what you did wrong while she soothed you with maternal pets to the crown of your head. That being said, it’s safe to say that you really don’t know what’s missing from you and your boyfriend’s intercourse–like, really.

But, thankfully, Satoru makes up for what you lack, telling you not to fret since he knows a lot and letting you know how much he’s been wanting to get to this point of intimacy with you–wanting to whisk his girlfriend away from the comfort zone that you’ve grown so attached to.

Satoru is without exception, enthusiastic to portray more during times of intercourse, yearning to teach you more than just the fluffy, domestic sex you both indulge in. It’s lovely and all, bleh bleh, whatever, Satoru gets it, but, man, what he wouldn’t do to see you on your knees, between his sinewy thighs parted for your form as he hovers above you, your head tilted upwards to take in his thick shaft through wet lips.

He’d make sure his red, throbbing tip hits the back of your throat so he can hear that sickening gag scurry out your mouth paired with the sloppy froth of your saliva slapping against his heavy balls with each quick thrust. He’d be too occupied to find the snot dribbling from your nose revolting because you’d be taking him in so deep.

That’s forever been his little fantasy–that amongst the vast amount of others. And to try each and every one of them with you would be a delight.

After you confessed to Satoru, you couldn’t help but notice how peculiar his ministrations started to get. It was gradual–starting with spanks on your ass to eating said ass. You’ll even bring up the time he used your feet to get off. It caught you off guard, you’d admit.

That day he had you pliable–on your knees with the left apple of your cheek flushed in the pillow beneath you and arms resting idly on your sides as you allowed your enthralled boyfriend to take the lead.

You assumed he was just gonna spit on your already-soaked pussy before massaging your puffy clit in the teasing, clockwise motions he likes to test you with, cock oozing with leakage before languidly gliding upwards to push in-between your cunt lips, but what you didn’t assume he’d do was trace his slimy precum against the soft skin of your toes to then rub his tip across your soles.

You tried to retract your feet away from him (toes wiggling in the process which had them accidentally graze across his balls. You could’ve sworn you heard him hiss) and protest his weird behavior but Satoru was already three steps ahead, firmly gripping both feet and nearly squishing them together if it wasn’t for the thick base of his cock preventing them from touching.

Each thrust he made ached with raw fervor and fuck him from being incapable of suppressing his passion because he couldn’t help but look down and see your cute pussy pucker and asshole twitch. What a sight for sore, cerulean eyes. Just as sore as your ass after he slapped it with an ever-so-firm hand, silently thanking his calluses for the rough impact.

He found it adorable how your shimmering entrance craved for insertion, winking rhythmically at him as though it’s saying, ‘Please fill me up, ‘toru! ‘M so lonely without you…’ (he chuckles to himself at the personification when done in a high-pitched tone).

But your pussy always gets his attention. You have another hole too, ya’ know–one that sits right above it, unused and virginal. Just imagine his excitement as he leans forward, cock still buried at the innermost part of your feet, to take a closer look. He’d smile at your coyness when you felt his hot breath blow on your skin, unsure of his next move.

In this new position, he can trace the faint smell of sweat emerging from you, and God, does that turn him on. More than it already does. So of course he had to steal a taste, trailing a fat strip of saliva against the rim, you squeal at the warm and wet feel of his tongue touching a place it had never been before,

“S-Satoru…what the fuck!” You jolted before moving from your position, migrating to any spot as long as it's far from your lover. You’ll never forget the sleazy look on Satoru’s face as both corners of his rosy lips tilt upwards for a cocky grin–yuck.

It grossed you the fuck out.

Not in a way that antagonizes your boyfriend, you love him too dearly to feel as such, but in a way that questions his morals. Why on earth would someone like Satoru want to be minimized to using the bottom of your soles for pleasure or savor the briny taste of sweat that builds up around the tight ring of your ass? I-I mean, you excrete from there, for God’s sake! That’s gross, especially in a place where the sun doesn’t shine.

You understand that he likes doing it, but why? How could something so perverse and dirty get him hard so quickly? Where’s his shame? His humiliation? His guilt? Were they not present whenever he sneaks a lick at your toes?

Perhaps you are trying to understand–who wouldn’t want to indulge in their lover’s feet, to caress the tough surface of their heels, and lead up their toes, to draw soft lines against them with plush lips as their medium before dipping them inside the wet cavern of their mouth and sucking the small digits before swirling their tongue and–ugh!–no! No, no, no, that’s sick! How can one do such a thing with ease? You can’t possibly imagine that.

But you’re not a kink shamer…right?

Your question remains unanswered, though, as you’re interrupted by Satoru’s moistened kisses trailing down the curve of your neck. You must’ve been in your daze for quite some time considering that the camisole top and loose shorts you lounge in took their positions on your bedroom floor. 

“Come back to me, baby.” You hear your boyfriend murmur and you deliberately oblige by running your digits through the white sea of his mane, wild and free as your fingers feather against his roots. He hums with love before leaving a kiss that's sloppier than the previous one. It starts with your usual routine, with soft and tenderhearted sex.

He pecks at your clavicle and you whimper in return as silvery lashes tickle the most sensitive areas of your skin. The passionate atmosphere continues to flow within the four walls of your room–containing your moans and your kisses and your touches, reverberating them in your heated figures while filling you both with distinct pleasure. It was good so far.

“Have any ideas in mind for tonight, sweetheart?” His voice is muffled as he joyfully sucks at the skin between the valley of your breasts, teeth clasping over the hot flesh to induce a mark darker than what your skin tone provides. You hold onto the fabric of his black shirt, soundlessly wondering why he is still garbed in unbreathable polyester while you remain bare save from your panties.

Lolling your head to the side in thought, you dwell on his question. Should you have something in mind? This isn’t the same as getting asked where to eat for dinner, per se. And owning to your inexperience with sex and fetishes, you’re incapable of bringing anything to the table in this sense.

You open your jaw, mouth filled with saliva due to the raunchy actions performed by your boyfriend onto your supple body, ready to speak your retort as you lick your chapped lips in preparation, but, Satoru knows you better than you know yourself.

“Yeah, I know you don’t,” It’s like he was born to study you. Your eyes travel to his person again, orbs resting upon Satoru’s scalp as you wait for him to finish. “Nothing in that gorgeous head of yours. It’s okay, though. I don’t blame you. I know an amateur like you wouldn’t have anything planned.” 

As might be expected, your brow raises at his comments slightly glazed with a patronizing drip, it’s gotten your attention, all right, as you turn your head to glare down at him. He’s sucking on your nipples this time and you forge a jerk but don’t falter, perked up by this newfound attitude from your loving partner.

“Oh?” You start and it carries the same uppity weight as his tone. “And I suppose you have it all figured out?”

He nods right after gazing up at you with arctic globes saturated with a heavy rush of sincerity and you can already feel the dreamy sigh materializing in your throat but never emerging. Satoru immediately sniffed out the indignance behind your words like a trained bloodhound. He rises from his spot upon your heaving chest to travel his way to the swoll of your chin, apologizing with a quaint kiss. 

“I do,” His smile is affectionate. “You know I always do, sunshine.” You gasp once something hard nudges against your squishy thighs before poking the outermost part of your panties.

“-Always think of something for that little cunt.” It isn’t long before it's cast to the side for clear access to your glimmering slit, doused in slick because your boyfriend had a remarkable way of handling you. He didn’t miss the embarrassed mewl of his name when he used filthy words.

He also didn’t miss the pull of air you took in as his thick finger swept up your bodily remnants, coating the fingertips of his middle and ring finger. You voluntarily buck your feeble hips in desire for him to push through your entrance but you know he wasn’t going to give it to you that easily. “You know, it gets me going when we do stuff like this when others aren’t around–when we do something so forbidden.” 

What–?

“Forbidden…?” Each syllable muddles your tongue as you ponder on its meaning: something that typically isn’t allowed or accepted–you’re not unaware, it’s a simple word, but is that the word he meant to say? “Why would it be forbidden? You’re my boyfriend, are you not?” Unless there’s something you’re unknowing of.

Perhaps he has a wife that he kept hidden in the shadows of his past. What if one wife turned into several wives? Maybe he’s a bloodthirsty murderer, ready to indulge in his next killing after getting you to trust his charming blue eyes and pink-liped smile. You don’t exactly know what the forbidden aspect of it all that he’s keeping from telling you-

You hear him ‘tsk’ and you assume it was meant to be taken seriously but it seems covered in mockery.

“Hah, Boyfriend? Have you no shame?” And he chuckles deep and grimy. “Don’t act like don’t know, dear.” You honestly don’t. “What would our parents think if they saw you, my sweet, little sister, grinding her greedy pussy against her older brother’s fingers?”

Oh.

Oh God.

Gritting your teeth for an evident cringe, you hurriedly toss your head to the side to break eye contact (how did he even manage to hold it for that long despite what he just said?!). There’s no way he’s doing this. Out of all kinks…

“For the love- Satoru. Stop, that’s fucking-” A sharp whine halts your sentence, stressed to the point of exaggeration. You don’t bother looking back up at him, already imagining his brows creasing with complaint at your disgusted remark.

“Ehh, what happened to ‘Satoru-nii’?” You almost would’ve forgotten the fingers sketching light circles on your sensitive button, going in for a pinch before tapping it aimlessly due to its slippery surface.

You clench your thighs together but Satoru’s heaping form prevents you from doing so. He’s a big mass of muscle reminiscent of a bull–broad shoulders along with thickened veins peeking through tough skin in the forms of streams, carrying the pulsing blood flow of adrenaline and transporting through each significant section of the body to energize his raging carnality.

“Are my fingers dwindling your vocabulary already? I just started using this pussy, sugar plum.”

A part of you wanted to believe he was joking–trolling like he usually does on literally every occasion. He knows how acquiescent you were in situations like these. So easily obedient to follow his golden rule when clinging to his hip, taking full advantage of your attributes to get you to do the perverted shit that spoiled his brain to corruption.

Of course, there’d be times when you’d retaliate, shouting out a brief ‘no’ before leaving the conversation unfinished, but it’s okay because he can butter you up to your good side. Use his words and his hands to do the convincing. Satoru has attributes of his own too.

But gazing into his eyes and seeing how aquatic blue dissolves into crimson red, only driven by lust, tells you he’s serious.

You look off to the side once more because staring at your nightstand is more soothing than staring at your deviant boyfriend. Out of all kinks, why this one?

“I don’t,” You close your eyes in an attempt to rid yourself free from his piercing glare. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.” You weren’t about to do this. You weren’t about to play into his wicked fantasies of being a relative of any sort. That doesn’t sound appealing at all.

“Don’t be like that, babe.” He mutters softly as if other people were in the room, prying with open ears to catch whatever dialogue is being transmitted between the two of you. A fingertip taunts at your sloppy entrance, just barely shoving past its tight grip. Sexual anticipation surged through your core at his ministration (his giggles at your hopelessness didn’t help you any). “You won’t know unless you try. Come on, do it for me?”

He’s too cute to refuse when your peripherals pick up his bottom lip raising upwards for a pout and feather-like lashes fluttering over glossy, blue orbs. Practically, begging you to follow through with this look alone–if only he wasn’t so handsome and used his charm against you in every way possible. God damn it-

“You’re sick, you know that?”

“Then you’re my antidote.”

You exhale in defeat since you unfortunately realize there’s no way out of this. Satoru’s too adamant to get you to play along with him, it’s insane. Turning your head to fully face him, which feels like the one-millionth time you’ve done so, you look him in the eye before aiming at the button of his nose, upturned and perky. Mentally getting ready to produce the God-forsaken words you are about to utter.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” You start and the way Satoru’s face lights up like a kid on Christmas irks you. 

You still feel mortification swirl in your skull like second nature. Your cheeks feel hot and it hurts–were you really about to do this?

Satoru was still teasing you to no end. Teasing that doubtlessly wet pussy with expertise. He was killing you by not giving you what you craved, only remaining on the surface as he waited for your verdict. Just one more push, one more shove and you’ll get there.

“And why is that?” He inquires.

Your bottom lip quivers with hesitation before an erotic groan escapes you. He’s so close to putting them inside. “Because you’re-” You pause to wait for a sliver of courage to finish your sentence. You’re not sure if you can-

“...I’m?” He continues.

You both catch on to the shaky breaths you’re letting out, two separate bodies feeling two separate emotions, one agitated and the other electrified.

“You’re my,” You tense but Satoru loosens. “-my b-brother.” He’s the Cheshire cat as of now. You wail once two fingers invade your thirsty hole, entering with a mushy squelch.

“And what is it that we’re doing, huh? What is it that we’re doing that would be so revolting to the public eye, hm? Tell me.” Can he stop pushing you already, for crying out loud?

“You fingering my, my,”

“You got it, keep going.”

“...fingering my p-pussy.”

Satoru cherishes your hesitance and rewards you, his obedient puppy. 

Digits curl upwards in search of that sensitive g-spot resting amongst your gushy insides. If applied enough pleasure, he’d be able to see how your back arches off your cotton sheets. Your mouth opens for a silent scream as the force of his fingers supports the buildup of liquid passion, pounding the area in addition to his palm rubbing your stiff clit the deeper he goes.

“There you go, my sweet girl, my gorgeous, little sister.” He fingers you harder and sucks at your erect nipples–when did they get so hard? As a matter of fact, when did your body feel so hot and needy? As though you’re deprived of something. 

Your boyfriend sucks at your tit before biting the small nub, grazing his teeth along sensitive skin for a chomp, causing your hands to fly to his head and grip the fur of his undercut, all while wincing in pain. He retracts his head with your nipple still in his mouth, giving it a stern tug like an elastic rubber band. You would have cursed him out if it wasn’t for the fingers still beating at your nether regions.

“Ah, S-Satoru!” He bites harder and you remember his request from earlier. “Satoru-nii.”

As if you hear a winner's buzzer, he hums in approval and releases before gorging his lips around the other one, gently guzzling it this time, skillfully whirling his wet appendage around the nub in combination with hungry sucks. He unloosens with an obnoxious, wet pop!

“M’so glad your mom married my dad. If it wasn’t for that, I wouldn’t be able to take care of my little sister’s pussy like how I’m doing now. Wouldn’t that be so sad?!” He inquires gleefully. “I’d be so miserable–jerking myself off to meaningless porn when I could be stuffing my big dick deep inside your aching cunt. Hearing you moan out how much you love your older brother for making you squirt your sticky juices all over me. You even got your hairs trimmed in the way you know I love.”

The sound of fabric grinding against fabric fills your ears as he maneuvers his head to reach down to your pelvis, stuffing his nose on top of the shortened pubes, his mouth hangs dangerously over your clitoris.

He takes in a deep breath like he’s smelling the fresh air of healthy trees and freshly cut grass, basking in your heady scent while feeling his cock go rigid in the plush of your mattress. 

Too aroused to feel embarrassed, you buck your hips so you can finally get his mouth on your itching button and he finally compels, switching between sucking in your clitoral hood and tonguing your labia. Satoru moves his fingers faster in hopes of provoking your climax. He knows your proximity by noting the way your thighs tremble and toes spread across your sheets.

You finally get to the stage you’ve been craving since the beginning of this session. Releasing your fluids onto your awaiting boyfriend, the grip at the nape of his neck more powerful than before, you squeal a brief ‘Satoru-nii!’ as he proceeds to lap at your overstimulated pussy. He’s now sparkling with your juices. Satoru sits up on his knees after wrapping his buff arm around the width of your shoulders to hoist you up and get you closer to his thighs, your figure remains seated as you process what he wants you to do–he wants you to suck him off.

So you lean your sweat-stained face over his clothed member and unwrap it like a Christmas present you’d save for last because it's so big. His cock springs up rudely and smacks at his now naked abdomen (when did he take off his shirt?) with a loud clap. His abs are so detailed and his pecks puff out in pride while he looks down on you, like his little servant.

He controls the length of his cock with a stern hand and traces ivory white lipstick over the plump of your mouth, a hazy web of precum connecting to your upper lip.

“Wrap those beautiful lips over my cock, darling angel. You know it makes me happy to see you stuffed full with my dick, no matter the hole.” He cheeses when he hears a quick scoff come out of you.

You listen anyhow, swallowing the tip of your big brother’s rod, hallowing your cheeks like a skeleton to circling your tongue around its rosy circumference. You feel your remaining cum dribble onto your bed when you hear him make a guttural moan from above. Clenching his ass cheeks as fingers place themselves on top of your head like an armrest, laying idly as of now.

“Oh shit, baby, yeah, just like that. Keep sucking me off juuust like that.” He bucks his hips impatiently once you decide to devour him up to the mid-base, continuing the actions of sucking in your cheeks to tighten around his cock. “Fuck!” He mewls before chuckling humorlessly.

He stares down and you look up. Your eyelids roll back til they’re just below your brow ridge to catch sight of azure undertones. You were just about to wonder why he was tittering until pressure made its way to both sides of your head. When his pearly white smirk twinkled under dim lighting, that's when you knew-

“Hmphh,” The noise was pitiful when subdued by the heavy weight of Satoru’s cock.

“Hold still, pretty girl.” He coos before pushing his hips back and applying the same manner to your head as he controlled you effortlessly and then thrusting forward and forcing your head to do the same. His balls slap on impact with your chin when he buries himself deep into the hot cavern of your throat, you have your nostrils planted on the silvery wisps of his pubes, reeking of potent masculinity. He leaves you in that position, powerless as he ignores the smacks to his meaty thighs.

“Hold it,” He warns. His voice is pitched below the Earth’s surface. “Gotta teach you how to please big bro properly.” You fight hard as his tip keeps irritating the thing that hangs at the back of your throat, trying to oppose your body from naturally activating your gag reflex but it ends up being fruitless. Your throat convulses as it bulges with his cock print and you cough out an ugly sound. Your vision blurs once you feel your eyes start to water up. You want him to move back already!

“Good.” It’s like he heard your thoughts because he finally retracts from his perfect spot lodged in your gullet. His swollen tip tickles the surface of your lips as you gasp several breaths of air. Just what was he thinking? You could’ve puked!

“What the hell was- mmph!” Halted by another intrusion of his cock burying itself in the pits of your throat, you muffle out a sound of surprise. You couldn’t believe it.

Satoru starts, “Less talking from you, sunshine. I wanna hear you slobber on my dick. Think you can do that for me?” He quickens up the pace of his thrust, going at the speed of someone walking. You gag disgustingly at each thrust and you can feel snot starting to leisurely slip from your nose (just what he wanted to see).

“That’s a messy girl, my messy sister. Got you, hah, so worked up you even got snot dripping from your nose and your spit running down my balls. Oh, you don’t know how much I longed for this.” He resumes his praises and tips back his head for a howl, feeling himself approaching his end as he hears you glurg, glurg, glurg on his veiny member.

“Oh shit, shiiit…!” Suddenly, you’re abruptly pushed off of him, freeing your esophagus from the restraint. Your back lands on the bed with a thud, your landing protected by your doughy comforter. Satoru stands motionless as he recovers from edging himself to oblivion. Biting his lip, his cock twitches up and down before it gradually remains unmoving.

You don’t even remember it happening, but you’re already restricted underneath Satoru’s panting body, thighs folded backward for a mating press, squeezing your squishy tits together, and feet perched on top of his shoulders. He takes his infamous spot between your legs, his overworked hands, decorated in calluses and scars, cuff around the underside of your knees.

He gifts you a heated kiss on your lips. “‘Toru-nii-” You say while struggling to keep up with his tongue. He breaks away from you and the string of saliva snaps into two.

“I hear you, baby, want me inside you already, I know, hear you loud ‘n’ clear.” His tip finds your entrance and it's sopping wet tenfold. He’s never seen you so needy in his life. He pushes in slowly and smoothly. Relishing your moans as he delves within you inch by inch, his thick cock stretching you out deliciously. You squirm in lascivious desire each time he enters you.

“I know, sugar, I know…” He soothes you upon hearing your sobs go up an octave. His head rests at the empty spot next to your neck and his hair tickles the crevice. “Almost there.”

As soon as he sinks deep in your warm cunt, he pecks your cheek with a softness that resembles duck feathers in a pillow before plummeting into you. A pornographic squelch resounds through your room.

“Hnn, T-Toru-nii is, so deep, ah, in my pussy!” You yelp. He’s so glad you’re still following his gross footsteps. So dazed by his cock hitting every ridge nestled within you.

“Yes, that’s right, little sis. And you’re gonna be a good girl and take it for me, right?”

You give a nod, “Yes, I will. I always will. Just f-for you.”

“Mmm, that’s right. That’s what I like to hear.” 

He inclines his torso backward, finding his attention on the feet placed at each side of his shoulders, more specifically, the one to his left as he grabs your ankle with ease, stroking the bone and putting your pedicured toe between wanting lips, your french tips hitting the roof of his mouth while lapping at your salty skin.

His pelvis hammers into you at a steady rate in combination with the gushes emerging from both sexes, it's so damn loud, you’re quite sure your Resident Assistant will come banging at your door frantically, telling you to lower it down because of the noise complaints that lead to your room.

You giggle, not just at the thought but at how much it tickles to feel Satoru’s tongue swirl around each toe.

“Satoru, that tickles.” You quip and the aforementioned man stares at you with knowing lids, purposely tasting your soles which have you trying to take your foot away, but the position you’re in makes it impossible.  

You feel as though hours go by as your older brother pushes on with fucking you silly and having a makeout session with your foot. His v-line collides with your poor pussy on every steady beat and you can’t help but let your earlier accusations fall from your mind like slippery soap.

The revulsion, the distaste, the discomfort–all of which were confined in a silk-woven case, trapped and compacted hitherto its evolution of approval. Although tentativeness plagues its cycle, the result remains beauteous as a cherry red butterfly protrudes through the rotten surface of the cocoon. The successful escapee finally swarms the sky with a setting sun.

It feels good. You feel good. Your pussy feels good as your step brother pounds it with intent–with purpose. You wiggle like a fearful worm ready to be eaten once the need to release creeps up slowly.

“My little sister always manages to feel so good. This pussy is just gripping me so fucking tightly and-” He stops abruptly and so do your moans as you hear your front door creak open.

The sound of jiggling keys and the chaotic trembling of plastic bags alert both your ears as you hear the door slam shut accompanied by a relieved sigh. You glance at the digital clock on your nightstand–‘10:35 PM’. One of your roommates is back from work. Coming home to rest easy from their enervating shift, she wants nothing more than to take a scalding hot shower, laze in her bed, and listen to nothing but silence as she drifts off to sleep.

But before those temptations come into play, she first wants to check up on you to see if you’re still in your room. Walking up sluggishly to your door, she raises a hand to prepare a few knocks while you and Satoru both stare wide-eyed at the shadow that occupies the crevice beneath your bedroom door–still like Michelangelo's statues.

“Hey, (Name), you in there?” The pause is long as you look up to Satoru and see his gaping mouth transform into a smirk before turning your attention to the door.

“Uh, yeah, I’m here. What’s up?” You ask, slightly hoping that your answer will satisfy her queries on your safety before retreating to her room.

“After work, I took a quick trip to the store for some wings and frozen pizza if you’d like some. Even got honey-barbeque-” You smile at her gentle antics. She remembered your favorite flavor.

“Oh, thanks, I really appreciate th-oh!” You’re stopped once Satoru resumes pounding your sloppy pussy. You cover your mouth in an attempt to conceal your yap but a strong hand grabs both wrists to cuff them above your head.

“Keep talkin', sis. Can’t leave mom pondering, now can we?” He whispered with precaution. That devious little-

“H-Hey? Are you okay?” The squishy slaps of both Satoru’s precum and your wet fluids compose a cacophonic symphony. Shit, if he keeps going, you’ll- 

“Yeah, m-mhm. I-I’m, fuuuck, fine.” Satoru grins maniacally above you his hot breath pasts your cheek and into your ear. The tip of his cock abuses your cervix as he compacts you tightly under giant muscle, arms littered with bulging purple and blue veins as he keeps you steady. His pubes tickle your clit whenever his hips kissed yours. Both breaths were getting heavy.

“Are you sure, you sound…sick.” Her words were laced with worry as she stood there, unmoving. “Do you need for me to come in?”

Satoru finds her naivety hilarious but decides it's time to break the barrier. He does so by raising his hips to an exaggerated extent before hammering back into you, the sound much louder than before as clapping fills the atmosphere. He guarantees your roommate will pick it up. Which she does.

“Wait, are you-” She gasps when she hears your sobbing moans echo in her ears. “Oh my God.” You’re too fucked stupid to give a reply when she blurts out an embarrassed ‘sorry!’ before taking hurried footsteps away from your door.

“Guess we scared her off, huh?” Knowing damn well he was the one who only made the effort to let your roommate know you were being pounded to oblivion. “Think she’s gonna tell everyone about this? Tell everyone how her son and daughter ruin the family name because we were caught fucking each other in your room?” He’s quick to pick up in your roleplay.

“Hnngh, I don’t know, ‘Toru.”

“I’m quite sure she will. What do you say, sweet girl, how about we both give a real reason to soil the family name and let me come in this pussy?” His thrusts start to stutter with each filthy word–cream drips from your cunt and down to the tight rim of your ass. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you groan quietly.

“Answer me now, sweetheart, or Satoru-nii is gonna-”

“Yes, Satoru, fuck. Please come inside me, please, ‘don’t care about anyone in this family but you! Come inside me, Satoru-nii!”

With that being said, he fulfills your wish by giving you one, big thrust and stilling his cock deep in his little sister’s pussy to pump his hot seed in increments. Whimpering loudly as he does so. His face contorts in the cutest grimace that you wish you could smooch. You heavily breathe in unison until he pulls out of you (fingering his remaining cum back into your fluttering hole).

He kisses your cheek, then your forehead, and lastly your lips before saying, “You did so well for me.”

And it’s after this session that have you thinking–‘perhaps you do get it’.

[zepskies]

Code Red

Pairing: Boaz Priestly x Female Reader

Summary: When you call him for help, Priestly realizes that he finally has the relationship of his dreams.

AN: So I didn’t think I’d ever write for this character, but it was prompted by a lovely anon and encouraged by my friend @thatonewriter15! I hope you enjoy. ❤️ 

Song Inspo: “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran. “I’ve found a love…”

Word Count: 1,500 Tags/Warnings: Period talk, suggestiveness, mega fluff

He was in the zone.

Four six-inch double buffalo chicken clubs with banana peppers on whole wheat bread (gross, but he wasn’t the one eating ‘em), two spicy Italians, and a tuna on rye.

Priestly wrapped them up with practiced precision and slid them down the line to Piper, Mission Impossible-style. She smiled at his antics and took them and brought them over to Tish at the register.

Priestly had another turkey and provolone on his docket, hold the mayo, when his cell buzzed in his pocket. Today he actually did have pockets. As in, he was wearing joggers, boots, and a graphic tee that said: NO TEQUILA, NO ENTRY.

He swiveled his phone in his hand like a drummer with a drumstick. He smiled when he saw your name flashing across the screen, and he answered it.

“Hey, Beautiful. What’s up?” he asked.

“Boaz, I need you,” you said. To his ears, your voice was sultry, and a bit strained.

He perked up with raised eyebrows.

“What’s holding up the turkey and cheese?” Piper asked.

Boaz held up a finger to the blonde and tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder. His hands busied themselves with the next sandwich order, but he was all too attentive to your every word.

“Oh yeah?” he replied to you. His smile deepened. “Well, that’s convenient. Because I’m craving some of you, baby.”

You gave a breathy chuckle. “Normally I’d take you up on that, but no. I need you. As in, I really need you to do something for me.”

Priestly arched a brow. His brain was already filling up with ideas of how he could best help you. He mentally took an inventory of the “tools” in your nightstand drawer, and which ones he could best use to his advantage when he—

“Uhh, well, I got about one more hour in my shift,” he said, lowering his voice, even as it deepened a notch. “But if Jen covers me, I can be outta here in half the time.”

“Oh my God, good,” you gasped. “I’m in so much fucking pain, you have no idea.” 

Priestly blinked, and any thoughts of kinky fun times came to a screeching halt. Concern took over when he realized that the strain in your voice wasn’t from the sexy kind of need.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quickly.

“I’m out of Midol, my uterus is rioting like it’s a Vietnam War protest, and…oh yeah, I need more tampons too,” you said. “But I legitimately cannot move from this couch.”

Priestly couldn’t help but smile in amusement.

“Ech, I hear ya. Are we in a Code Green, Code Yellow, or Code Red situation?”

Jen glanced over at him from where she was mopping the floor, and she gave him a questioning look.

What’s wrong? she mouthed.

“Code Red, definitely,” you answered with a sigh.

Priestly grimaced in sympathy. He mouthed back to Jen, Code Red.

She nodded in female understanding, and raised a hand that said, Say no more.

“Okay, yeah,” Priestly replied to you. “Don’t worry, I got you.”

You released a sigh of relief. “And if you want to throw in a Snickers, I wouldn’t hate it.”

He chuckled at that one.

“You got it,” he said. “I’ll be home in T minus an hour, give or take.”

You groaned. “Can’t you just steal a DeLorean or something?”

“You know, I could, but that would mean I’d be going back further into the past before you even needed to call me, and I’d still probably be making sandwiches since I’ve been working here since damn near 2000 B.C. But you know what, they should really call that movie Back to the Present, since they don’t actually go to the future until—”

“Okay,” you had to laugh, even though it was edged with discomfort. “I’ll see you later.”

At the supermarket, after his shift at Beach City Grill, Priestly had most of the supplies he needed for a successful mission. All he was missing was his old enemy on Aisle 2.

Once again, he faced a wall of tampons. All bright colored boxes and numbers and sizes…

Okay, not Code Green, so not the slender ones that might as well be match sticks. Not Yellow, so no to Regular…ah! Here we are. Super Plus.

AKA: Code Red. Complete with leak guard, no latex. He grabbed the blue box and threw it into his basket of essentials, including no less than three assorted chocolate bars and a pint of Ben & Jerrys. He knew his girl, and you liked your Half-Baked ice cream with chocolate chip cookie dough and brownie pieces.  

He brought over his haul to the checkout line. Sure enough, Gerry, one of the locals, was finally old enough to buy a case of beer by himself. He glanced at the blue box Priestly was taking out onto the conveyor belt and smirked.

“No slender regulars this time?” Gerry remarked.

Priestly’s smile was tight. “No, Gerald. Slenders are for pussies.”

“Literally,” the blonde beanpole snorted. “What, your girlfriend got a heavy flow this month?”

Priestly rolled his eyes, and his mouth pressed in a line. The word flow still kind of grated on him like nails on a chalkboard, but what irked him more was this guy imagining any part of your intimate parts.

“All right, my girl’s flow is none of your business,” he said. “Once you hit puberty and grow your first pubes, you’ll understand.”

Gerry floundered while Priestly continued on to make his purchases. Even the cashier was smiling, trying not to laugh as he silently gave Priestly his props for a burn well made. Priestly shot the guy a nod and a smile before he left with his spoils.

“Honey, I’m hoooome,” Priestly sing-songed.

He stepped through the door with his keys still jangling in his hand. He was trying to balance the big bag of groceries while closing the door to the apartment he shared with you.

Your head perked up from the living room couch, and your hand slowly curled up, beckoning him over. Priestly obliged you. He peered over the side of the couch and smiled at the way you were all curled up under a throw blanket, already in your pajamas, while FRIENDS reruns played on the TV.

“Finally,” you said with a tired smile. But not the kind of finally that just meant you were impatient for the goods he carried. The kind of finally that also meant you were happy to see him.

He laid a comforting hand on your head, leaned down, and pressed a kiss above your brow. You held him there by the collar of his shirt, prompting him to kiss you for real. Your hand moved up his tattooed neck and your nails gave the back of his head a little scratch, careful not to disrupt the blue mohawk.

He reluctantly pulled away from your lips, just enough to try and gauge how you were feeling.

“How’re you holdin’ up?” he asked.

“Like a beach umbrella in a hurricane,” you replied wryly. “You got the stuff?”

Priestly held the grocery bag tucked under his arm like it was a drug deal.

“Oh, I got the stuff, if you got the money,” he said.

You nodded, and your small smile turned mischievous. “I got your money, Big Man.”

With your hand delicately hooked behind his neck and the other gliding up his arm, he didn’t realize he was falling into a trap.

You tugged his arm hard enough to try and get him to fall over the back of the couch.

“Hey!” he yelped. Yet he also laughed while you tried your best to pull him overboard.

He had to toss the bag of groceries to the floor next to you, but he managed to get over and onto the couch without crushing you. He probably smelled like old sandwich and mayonnaise, but you didn’t seem to care. 

You just helped him settle in behind you, with your back to his chest. This was the only way you’d find comfort for your lower back. It had been aching since you woke up this morning.

You grabbed his closest hand and guided it under your overlarge sleep shirt, then under the waistband of your panties. You laid his warm hand flat against your cramping lower belly.

Priestly pressed a kiss behind your ear and tucked his arm underneath your head. He felt the rise and fall of your sigh as you leaned back against him, and his smile softened.

“You’re gonna fall asleep without digging into your treasure trove,” he teased. “I even got your favorite ice cream.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder in interest.

“Half-Baked?” you asked.

“Yep, for extra brownie points. Eh? See what I did there?”

Your body shook with a quiet laugh. You reached your hand back to touch his bearded cheek this time. Your fingers toyed with his many earrings.

“Did you know that you’re my favorite human?” you said. “Like, ever?”

He smiled against your neck. “Could’a sworn I was your third favorite, behind Ben and Jerry.”

“Nope, just you,” you said, snuggling back further into his warmth. “Thank you, baby.”

Priestly realized then that he’d found it.

He’d really, honest to God found the life he didn’t think he’d get, with a woman who didn’t want him to change; who just wanted him to be here.

Though he smirked when you reached for the bag and dug out the pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

“That’s what I thought,” he said.

You giggled. “Shut up.”

AN: Priestly was such a fun character lol. I rewatched 10 Inch Hero this past week and this was the first thing I thought to write! If you liked this, let me know! (And if you want more Priestly.) 😘

Read the Prequel!

If you liked Code Red, read the start of their story:

▶️ The Miracle Man

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[deanbrainrotwritings]

—  when broken is easily fixed

SUMMARY : priestly broke up with tish (yes!) uh, i mean… you watch him be pathetic and sad with his big wet green eyes.

PAIRING : boaz priestly x fem!reader (implied Latina)

CHARACTERS : tish (mentioned)

WARNINGS/TAGS : jealousy, breakups, fluff, tiny angst, innuendos, obliviousness x2

WORD COUNT : 2.7k

A/N : SURPRISE YALL, I’m back, heheheh. title from silverstein’s song. this fills the square “I’m having what you’d call a rough day” on my @jacklesversebingo card. lmao, this was nice to jump back into writing. I secretly like teaching y’all physics. 

You remember the day Priestly showed up at the market in a disappointingly normal state. 

No piercings, no colourful hair, no beard, no eyeliner. Just plain old California clothes, nearly looking Christian with his neat hair, and composed manners.

The only things that reassured you that Priestly was still Priestly after all, were the tattoos that peeked from outside the collar of a white dress shirt and the tiny holes in his skin where his piercings once belonged.

It was confusing at first, but he looked happy. Brighter.

You thought his parents were in town. Or that he became religious after all. Or that he joined a cult. 

You teased him at first. He’d just give you this dreamy look and never said anything to ease your curiosity about his current state. He’d be out the door in a hurry, with a tiny bit of that Priestly swagger that told you he was definitely not brainwashed by a cult.

But the reason for the sudden change in him soon became clear. 

One day, he walked into the store to buy groceries and other necessities with Tish. Hand in hand, the two of them. All giggles and shoves and smiles. The honeymoon phase. She’d kiss him on his cheeks, take his chin in her hand and press herself against him in an unnecessary manner to tell him something, and he’d look stupid, like he couldn’t believe she was there giving him affection. 

Your stomach dropped at the sight of them. 

You’d never felt the way you did before. 

Yeah, there was a cringey-ness and aversion you always had  for PDA and romance that you’d noticed in yourself for years, but it never bothered you like it did now. From watching Priestly and Tish be a couple.

But it also didn’t take you long to realise why it bothered you so much more. Why it was so much harder to ignore than if it were any other couple doing it. Why you felt rejected became clear.

You had feelings for Priestly.

What a dumb way to find that out. 

Excuse the fuck out of yourself if you were too focused on your university courses and your job and your future and your personal life… to realise that you really actually liked him. Romantically.

You weren’t going to lie to yourself and pretend that you didn’t care at all when you were alone. You weren’t  going to lie to yourself about the sting you felt. Or push away the feelings of jealousy and push down how upset you were and the other, million emotions you felt as you watched them go about their lives as a couple for months. 

You never wanted to quit more badly than you did then, just to avoid having to see them get closer, clingier, more affectionate, serious. But it was the only way you could afford living in your dorm, to have enough to pay your classes, and afford your supplies and books... 

You sucked it up and pretended that nothing was wrong. Like you didn’t even care about him. Like you never did. 

It never really got easier, the only thing that became easy was pretending. 

You blamed yourself for waiting too long. That’s what haunted you. If you’d just been braver. If you’d been more honest with yourself and him. If you’d had the courage to say what you felt. If… if…

It was torture.

The high California-in-the-summertime temperatures made you think that you were in Hell, but time passed and you accepted that your chance with him had passed. You told yourself to move on and be happy. For the most part, as long as you ignored them, it was easy to be happy again, to live your life and do whatever your wildest friend was doing to enjoy her summer. 

But that happiness you’d seen in Priestly was gone by the time the fall semester came around. It took six long, horrible months for that happiness in him to fade away. 

It didn’t last. Just like the spring and the summer.

Until one day you didn’t see her with him. And the next day he was alone again. And the next week; alone. And the week after that, too. 

No Tish. 

Just mopey, wet-eyed Priestley. 

His stubble grew, his eyeliner returned—slightly smeared from tears. 

No more Banana Republic, Tommy Hillfigure, or Calvin Klein. Just those ridiculous shirts that always made you smile.

He entered the store today again after a week. 

The shop's bell rang and you looked up out of habit, and watched him with his gorgeous green eyes cast downward to the slightly dusty floor you were trying to sweep. God, you’d guess it was more of a depressing, someone’s-dead type of chime than a merry one—from the state of him.

His hair was a mess and slightly longer, it was not brushed or styled neatly. Like he woke up from a nap after breakfast and decided to go to the store because he remembered something he forgot before his nap. 

You felt bad… at first. 

His cheeks were pink and his eyes were red-rimmed and glassy from tears. He had darkened bags under his eyes. But as he moped around and you avoided being noticed by him out of awkwardness, you caught a glimpse of his shirt, which amused you: Hang in there, it gets worse, with a little thumbs up, too. 

He came completely in black, too. 

It was unavoidably funny. But you stifled your snort as you continued to sweep quietly, until eventually, you got lost in thought again. Your head filled with your to-do list before entering your final semester. 

But you eventually found yourself in the same aisle as him. You swept the trash up into the dustpan as you watched him try to hold bread, bananas, napkins, and toilet paper in one arm while trying to take out a gallon of milk from the fridge.

You saw what would happen from a mile away and quickly released the broom and left the dustpan where it was to help him. Before you could actually get to him, the napkins toppled out of his hold and he mistakenly released the milk to grab it which caused the gallon to burst open when it fell to the floor like a ripe melon in the sun. 

You gasped when the milk splattered on you, but you didn’t actually mind at all. Priestly, on the other hand, sighed heavily again, completely giving up. 

He finally looked at you when you reached for the napkins he dropped and you smiled warily at him, hoping it appeared more reassuring than pitiful. You handed him the napkins and he murmured an apology, taking them from you. 

“They say when you drop your food, it's because someone craved it,” you tried to make light of the situation but he didn’t even notice. He gently placed everything down on top of the shelf behind him with a deep sigh.

“I’m so sorry,” he frowned at the large white puddle, “I’m having what you’d call a rough day.” You huffed a soft laugh which made him raise a brow at you. 

“Day? You’ve been mopey and pathetic for weeks,” you teased playfully, but he remained quiet. You figured you’d offended him or hurt his feelings because he sniffled and looked down at his hands. 

Your face softened.

“I’ll pay for that.” He pointed to the spilt milk and broken gallon.

“It’s fine,” you reassured him. “Let me clean this up. I’ll help you when I finish.” You turned around to pick up some napkins you kept behind the counter and he made a sound of protest. 

He followed you, you heard him walking behind you quickly. “I made this mess. I should clean it. Besides, it’s almost your lunch break,” he tried to stop you. You laughed softly and shook your head as you laid yourself over the counter to grab the napkins from underneath the counter, your feet dangled embarrassingly above the floor.

“Hey, it’s no trouble,” you dismissed, smiling triumphantly to yourself when you got up with the napkins. “Go be a customer and bring your stuff… take two trips this time. There’s no one else here.” You snatched the napkins away from him when he tried to take them from you. 

He smiled a little. 

It made you smile more earnestly. 

“Okay… Fine…” he gave in hesitantly and followed you as you walked towards the mess he made. He picked up the stuff he left on the shelf and watched you squat down and lay some napkins over the puddle. The paper soaked the milk up and he slowly walked to the counter then returned as you finished up. 

He stood there awkwardly at first. Still just watching you clean up and then you got up and smiled at him sweetly. He smiled back at you gently and your heart sped up the way it always did when he looked at you. Your stomach clenched happily, but you frowned and quickly stepped away from him to throw the wet paper towels away along with the gallon that had contained the milk. 

“I’m really sorry,” he apologised again when you returned. 

“Priestly, it’s fine, accidents happen,” you chuckled to convince him and eyed the new gallon of milk. “You ready?” You wiped your hands on your jeans despite still feeling icky. 

“Yeah,” he answered quietly, then looked around at the unusually empty store. “You want me to finish sweeping for you? Or maybe… Do you wanna wash your hands? You look uncomfortable. I can wait,” he rambled.

You laughed at him, this was all too much for you so “early” in the morning. He instantly shut up and became flustered. His free hand flew up to the back of his neck and he laughed awkwardly. 

“Well, if it matters so much to you, put the Closed sign on while I throw the stuff in the dustpan away and wash my hands. I’ll meet you at the counter in five.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said automatically. 

You rolled your eyes at the name, but walked away wordlessly to finish up. You actually were pretty hungry.

When you returned, Preistly had his hands in his trouser’s pockets, he was chewing on his lip, and his cheeks were red from embarrassment. 

“What’s that thing you said earlier about dropping food?” He asked, trying to alleviate the thick tension that hung in the air around the two of you. You smiled as you scanned the items he needed. 

“Oh, nothing,” you shrugged, “just a saying.” 

He was quiet for a moment and then you looked up at him. He was already looking at you and your face instantly started to get warm again. You looked away as casually as you could to finish scanning the remaining items and neatly placing them inside a plastic bag. 

“It was funny.”

“Ha, I guess…” you shrugged awkwardly and told him the price of his groceries. 

“Right…” he took out random, balled up dollar bills from his back pocket despite having a wallet with enough space. You smiled curiously and took the money from him. 

God, hurry and leave, you prayed internally as you placed his money in the cash register and took out his change. You dropped three quarters and a nickel into his hand when you began hearing the soft sound of rain hitting the windows and the concrete outside, and the delightful aroma of petrichor sneaking through the vents into the store.

“Fuck,” Priestly muttered, his fingertips grazed your palm and your body lit up like the second the temperature of the universe hit one billion Kelvin after the Big Bang, finally allowing neutrons and protons to form atomic nuclei as they hit and stuck to each other. “The worst day ever.”

You snapped out of your daze, disappointed, but not surprised at his obliviousness. 

“I could give you a ride,” you offered with a shrug, taking your bag from inside the bottom drawer as he took his bag of groceries.

“I keep wasting your time…” he trailed off, but he did not decline your offer. 

“That’s fine. Where do you live?” You made your way around the counter and walked past him to stand at the door and watch the rain slowly come heavier.

“You’re a stranger,” he joked, and you turned to roll your eyes at him. “What? You could secretly be a Mankiller.” You opened the door with a sarcastic laugh and squirmed as rain hit your face.

“Please, look at me,” you scoffed playfully, locking the door to the store once Priestly stepped outside with you. 

“I am,” he said gently. 

You looked up at him with your brows knitted in confusion. “Whatever. My car’s over here,” you brushed him off and quickly led him to your car.

You both sighed once you were safely inside the freshly cleaned car. He laughed to himself as he looked around inquisitively, but you didn't question him. You turned your car on instead to pull out of the driveway and asked him again where he lived as a Britney Spears song played on the radio. This time he finally answered your question seriously.

The conversation was light and you kept asking him about the sandwich shop he worked at and about his friends to avoid talking about yourself or his break up. It was basically small talk, bleh. The conversation was superficial because you didn’t want to get close to him, not now, not when he was freshly broken up and still clearly hurting. 

He ran his hand through his hair once you parked outside his house, somehow he managed to make it look tame. He looked at the time and you waited patiently for him to get out so you could leg it and cry to your friend over the phone about how you were so not over him. 

“Stay,” he proposed suddenly when he unbuckled his seatbelt. “I can make you a sandwich, I’m really good at that.” You shook your head at first and racked your brain for some excuse to get away. “Whatever you want, I’ll make it for you, I’ve even got some soda in the fridge. Please, I feel really bad.” You chuckled softly at him and the pleading eyes he gave you. They looked much wider and greener. 

“Fine,” you gave in, “I’m really hungry, so… I guess I could stay for a bit.” He lit up slightly and started to get out of the car before you managed to turn it off. But you caught up with him as he kicked the welcome mat to the side to retrieve his house’s key. 

“You want a sub?” He asked, you bit your tongue to stop yourself from making a joke out of that and nodded as you entered his messy house. Oh well, he’s been going through a breakup. 

“Oh, God, I forgot it’s a mess,” he apologised when he looked at the star of everything around him. “Close your eyes, pretend you don’t see it,” he pleaded jokingly. 

“As long as I don’t step in something squishy, we’re all good,” you reassured him with a small laugh. You followed him to the kitchen and figured he must be going through the not-eating breakup rather than the eating-my-feelings breakup.

“How big do you want it?” He asked you, setting the bag down on the counter and going to wash his hands.

“How much do you think I can take?” You asked before you could actually filter it out of your mind. He quickly looked at you, amused and intrigued while he dried his hands with a clean towel from inside his cabinet. “Kidding, how big is it?” He laughed loudly at your question which made you get more flustered, but he still gave you a measurement with his hands. “Half of that,” you tried to ignore his face and sat down before your knees gave out from embarrassment. 

“If you can only take half of that, I don’t think you could handle me.” 

Your mouth fell open. You were sure you stopped breathing for a few moments when your heart stuttered and your stomach lurched at the thought.  

This time, you blinked at him in surprise, but your eyes stayed wide, and you felt yourself turn hotter before you both bursted out laughing. 

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[cyberskulzzz]

Rockstar Rodrick Heffley x Midwest Goth Au. Headcanons/Storyline

Author’s Note: This has been slightly proofread but will still contain mistakes. I also decided to give Midwest Goth’s character the name Tish,because it felt silly not to name her.

Content Warning:Angst Mentions of substance abuse,medication,hallucinations,depressive and manic episodes,and pregnancy.

Backstory

•After graduation, Löded Diper disbanded. However, Rodrick and Ben still wanted to make music and decided to form a new band,but wanting to rebrand it a bit more mature this time. 

•With the little money they have,they began traveling,mostly hitchhiking. Rodrick insisted that they have to visit the bigger cities to make connections in the music and alternative scenes. Within a year and a half, they found the rest of their bandmates through parties, aftershows, and gigs.

•As the band gained local attention in England, Rodrick met Tish.

•Tish had left her small Texas town at 16, unable to stand the small town life any longer. She moved to England,where she was mostly couch surfing, organizing gigs for friends to be able to pay for her groceries and weed,and occasionally selling her photography on the street,though it rarely brought in money.

•Her best friend was Ben’s ex, which is how she met Rodrick.

•One night, Rodrick played a gig Tish had organized. She owed Ben a favor and promised to manage the event. Backstage at the afterparty,Tish ran into Rodrick,who was already a bit tipsy.

•Rodrick, a touchy, sleepy, emotional drunk, they spent the night drinking and lounging on a couch. He bombarded her with questions, though she wasn’t interested in him at all which caused the convo to be pretty one sided. 

•She told Rodrick she’s lived here in england since she’s sixteen and that she isnt actually british but just picks up accents quickly,that she’s crashing at friends’ places, organizing gigs for pocket money,and doing photography.

•Tish’s goal wasn’t stability,she was content with her current lifestyle. Though she had dreams,wanting to do theater design and costume work,she downplayed them as unrealistic in front of others,in front of Rodrick too that night. 

•Rodrick was immediately head over heels in that moment. She wasn’t like Heather Hills or his high school girlfriends,he usually went for girly, popular, and hard to get. Tish was awkward,seemingly nervous,and seemingly a bit lazy. Rodrick found her mannerisms and attitude magnetic. 

•So he offered her a deal,if she could get the band gigs and publicity,she could become their stylist. She agreed,the band gained more attention,booking small gigs,magazine shootings and so on. 

•Rodrick loved watching her boss people around as their manager,while Tish was drawn to his stage presence and how he could change the mood of a whole crowd so effortlessly. 

•They started living together, switching between friends’s couches after getting kicked out every other week.Their relationship developing to friends with benefits, though it was clear romantic feelings were involved on both sides. They didn’t label it,but they knew they were both taken now,completely obsessing over one another,not spending time away from eachother for months,always mentioning the other one in every conversation,Rodrick getting her goat lambchop tattooed on his rib.

•Two years after meeting, Rodrick proposed. It was casual but not in an unthoughtful way,he thought about what she’d find authentic and intimate.They got fast food and slushies,like every sunday as his band was at their apartment decorating the living room,with fairy lights and white rose petals and balloons. 

•Susan helped him pick a ring, she was worried he’d choose something too rustic. It was a ring with a small diamond, engraved with "Not for riches but for love",that he ended up choosing. 

•Tish said yes immediately,not that it wasnt thought through well enough,she knew she wanted Rodrick in her life for as long as humanly possible,and that was all she needed to know. 

They spent the whole night planning,not getting any sleep,deciding on a forest wedding for October next following year, three months after Rodricks tour would end. 

Tour Life

•Rodrick was thrilled and the band finally had a budget for stage outfits and makeup when the tour started.Tish decorated their bunk bed with glow in the dark stars,stickers,and photos.Technically they didn’t need to squeeze into one bunk bed,they had a spare one but Rodrick likes physical touch to fall asleep and Tish finds comfort in knowing he’s close on eventful days. 

•However tour slowly became more draining.Constant traveling,press,studio sessions,and performances wore them down quickly. 

•There were rare hotel stays,where they’d cuddle,eat fast food, play board games, and fall asleep to audiobooks but that was it. 

•As the pressure kept building,it got more rocky. Rodrick took his frustration out on Tish, blaming her for bad concerts,saying that she wasn’t creative enough and that the concerts were only so horrible because she didnt add anything to the stage performance and presence with her ideas.Giving her the silent treatment after each concert for hours on end as he went to get high. 

•Tish’s mental health went down hill from there on. She rotated between manic and depressive episodes,which even Rodrick noticed,it was hard to miss,as she’d go from cracking jokes,doing enough work for a month,no sleep and excessive talking (even for her) to barely getting out of bed,hallucinations,and even disorientation. 

•Rodrick called Tish‘s dad,who didnt know how to help at all and then he immediately called Susan who let him pour his heart out for probably the first time ever. 

•Susan told him that Tish needs him to at least pretend he’s stable but that they both need help individually,not depending on one another. 

•Rodrick offered to get a private therapist,having weekly appointments as long as they were on tour at least and considering getting medical help.Tish was skeptical at first but Rodrick told her he needed her to try for him, if she couldn’t bring herself to do it for herself then she’d need to do it for him. She then agreed. 

•Rodrick began journaling this time finally writing for himself instead of needing material for a song,he also started doodling which drew his attention to graffiti art,finding an art from that wasnt connected to work and that he could just cope with. •Tish, however felt like she was stuck in time.Each time she’d work on something her inner monologue had been her and Rodrick‘s screaming matches,feeling too insecure to show him what she was working on,showing the other band members and crew staff instead. 

•She was already a self conscious person,Rodrick being the only family she had with having split parents and a cold dad who would’ve desperately wanted a son (which was easy to tell),she needed a bit of time to understand that Rodrick and her relationship couldn’t always be excessive partying and full time. 

•Rodrick realized he needed to listen and support her more,asking her more questions,showing acts of service,learning to listen. 

•Tish slowly realized that it’s not Rodrick’s responsibility to magically guess everything she’s feeling and that she needs to communicate and set boundaries if something is bothering her. 

•After tour they moved back to london,into their flat,the first days finally feeling peaceful and quiet,and this time the routine and stable environment didnt bother them at all.

At least that was Rodricks point of view. 

•What he didn’t know was that Tish sat in the tiny bathroom of the tour bus a few days prior staring at two lines on the pregnancy test in her hand as she dissociated. 

[goosewriting]

Cover It Up

summary: after getting a scolding from Ashura, Reth and reader get closer (follows the cover it up quest). 

relationship: Reth x gn!reader

warnings: fluff!, spoilers for Reth’s dialogue 

word count: 4k

A/N: more Reth because i love him fr fr <3 i'm not sure how many parts there will be to this but make sure to read the previous part if you haven't!

Navigation: Part 1 | Part 2 (you're here)

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

You’re working on a new piece of furniture that Tish gave you the instructions for, when you see Reth coming through the gates to your house plot. A slight panic settles in the pit of your stomach as you realise that you were so absorbed in your work you’ve completely lost track of time.

“Oh shoot, I didn’t forget we were meeting up or anything, right?” you ask as you set down your tools, hurrying to clean up your workstation.

“Nope,” he retorts, coming to a halt before you. “I came here unannounced.”

“Okay, good,” you breathe a sigh of relief, facing him fully. “So what’s up?”

“Nothing much,” he says and gives you his signature smile, leaning on the worktable with his hips. “I just wanted to see your face, is all.”

You narrow your eyes slightly at him in suspicion, but can’t help mirror his smile.

“Well, take your fill.”

He studies your face for a moment.

“Ah, yes,” he concludes with a nod. “That’s the face of my favourite person right there. Good to know it’s still there.”

“Why wouldn’t my face be here,” you retort with a chuckle, but then furrow your brows in worry. “Seriously though, is something wrong? I’m not complaining about you being here; it’s just that it’s rare for you to come by like this.”

He sighs, his shoulders slumping forward slightly.

“Yeah, I, uh, I actually need your help,” he admits. “Again.”

You motion for him to sit next to you on the bench by the entrance of your house.

“Sure thing,” you reassure him once you’re both seated. “What can I do?”

Reth takes a deep breath, gesturing with his hands as he talks.

“So, remember the whole thing where I made a huge dinner for Ashura and his friends because he kept seeing me going into the back rooms,” (How could I forget, you think.) “Well, turns out he didn’t believe me at all, actually. He’s keeping an extra eye on me now, and some shipments for, you know, have been suffering because of that.” He can’t hold your gaze and it falls to his lap instead. “I need to change bases for a while.”

Reth then asks for your map, and you hand it to him. He marks some places where you’re to leave some shipments in Bahari Bay. You look at the places he marked, mentally already tracing the path you'd take so as not to be seen, and hopefully not run into anyone.

“The shipments are in the storage room,” he adds. “Can you pick them up tonight?”

“Yeah, I can do that,” you say with a small smile. He’s visibly relieved at your words.

“Thank you so much.” He runs a hand over his face and shoots you a sheepish smile. “I don’t know why you keep putting up with me like this, but I really appreciate this.”

“Hey, we said no more of that negative self-talk,” you remark and give him a playful push to his shoulder. “I help because I want to.”

Reth looks at you for a moment with a slight tilt to his head. What did he do to deserve you?

“How about I have some food ready for when you come back?,” he offers, and you immediately perk up at that. “Any wishes?”

“You know I never say no to your food,” you laugh, and think for a moment about his offer. “I’m craving… something greasy. Finger food. With potatoes.”

He laughs at your odd request.

“Alright, I’ll see what I can come up with.”

– – –

You take an evening nap to get ready for the night, and when the clock strikes midnight, you set out for the village. You’re extra careful to not run into anyone, entering the Inn from the back to access the storage room, and stuff the merchandise into your backpack. It’s not the first time you’re moving things for Reth, and you have to admit you’re curious to take a peek. You have an inkling as to what could be in there – something Flow related and highly illegal, probably – but Reth made you promise over and over that you wouldn’t peek. The less you know, the better, he would always say. So you shove your curiosity aside, and make a quick exit towards the east gates leading to Bahari Bay.

You move swiftly, and actually take the opportunity to mine whatever iron you come across on your way to the marked positions. Making so much noise with the pickaxe probably isn’t the best strategy to remain hidden, but at least this way, if someone saw you, you could say you were mining. Besides, you seem to always be running out of it, so any extra ore is welcome. When you get to the spot Reth marked on the map, you hide the boxes behind some bushes, then start your trek back, picking up some mushrooms and Sweet Leaves on the way back to Kilima. 

Once you’re back, you make a quick stop by the storage room again to pick up the food left by Reth, then head home. As you unpack it, still warm, you see he cut potatoes into wedges, covered them in seasoning, then baked them with plenty of oil. You hum in surprise at how good it tastes, savouring every bite. You also can't help but feel that it tastes strangely familiar, like a comfort food from another life. There's still something missing, but you can't quite put your finger on what.

– – –

The next few days go by as usual, and you keep catching yourself itching for something to spice up your routine. Perhaps another “supply” run by Reth? You mean to go see him at the Inn to ask if there's anything for you to do, except that you don’t even make it far past your house, as the moment you walk out of your door, you see Ashura coming into your lot through the gates. With a smile and a wave, you greet him from afar, but as he steps closer, you can see he doesn't look too amused. You gulp.

“Hey Ashura,” you start as you meet him halfway. “What brings you all the way to my humble abode?”

He looks down at you, and sighs. You shift your shoulders uncomfortably under his gaze.

“I wish I could say I was here for a friendly chat.”

Ashura’s stern gaze softens somewhat, in the way a father gives in to the “not mad, just disappointed” stance. 

“What exactly did you think you were doing by helping Reth?” he asks you, crossing his arms over his chest.

Your gaze falls to the ground, brows furrowed. It’s none of your business, you want to say. But that wouldn’t be fair. He’s here because he’s worried, because he cares.

“How’d you find out?” you ask instead, daring to meet his eyes again.

“It was pretty obvious. Reth may be good at lying to others, but I know his tells. Besides, Hodari saw you sneaking around at night.”

Hodari you little snitch, you think and can’t help the grumble that escapes you. Ashura sighs yet again, his arms now falling to his sides.

“Next time you hide things in the bay, make sure no one sees you.”

“Well, I thought I was doing a good job at not being seen,” you mumble. “... But point taken.”

He raises a brow at you, still waiting for an explanation. You shrug your shoulders and raise your hands in defeat. 

“I- I was just helping him out,” you say truthfully. “If I don’t, he’s going to work himself to exhaustion and beyond, and you know that.”

“And this is how you decide to help?” he says in a somewhat scolding manner. “Look, Reth can spend the rest of his life running away, lying to anyone who might care about him. But I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and talks about you. He’d hang the moon if you asked him to.”

You can’t help the heat creeping onto your face at his words. I’d hang the moon and more for him too, you think to yourself. Suddenly you feel very self-conscious in front of the man that’s become a father figure to you, and seems to be one to Reth as well.

“Then, what do you suggest?” you ask. “You care about him, right? That's why you worry. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here. Well, I care about Reth as well. Tell me how to help him.”

He hums, placing a large hand on your shoulder.

“Help lead him on the right path.”

You let out a helpless scoff; how do you even do that? There’s so many factors at play, and you're not even sure if Ashura has the full picture regarding Tish’s disease and treatment and all… Where do you even start? 

As he sees your brain is starting to work a mile an hour at his words, he retrieves his hand after giving you one last squeeze.

“Well, I’ve said my piece. Maybe I'm just an old man overstepping his bounds… But I want to see Reth thrive here,” he says and shoots you a smile. “And I want the same for you.”

“I- even if you were overstepping his bounds, you’re doing it because of the right reasons, so… Thank you for telling me. I think I needed to hear this.” You bite the inside of your cheek, considering if you should say the next part or not. it's something that's been eating away at your mind for a while now. You fidget with your sleeve, looking up at Ashura and being met with nothing but warmth and support in his eyes, and you can feel the last of your walls crumbling.

“You know,” you start after taking in a shaky breath. “Sometimes I forget that this is… real. Appearing out of thin air with no memories of anything at all except for my name. I think deep inside I expect this all to be a dream or something, and that I’ll be snapping out of it at any given time. So I guess I wasn’t taking my actions seriously, and dismissing the fact that what I do here has real consequences for the people surrounding me, as well as myself.”

Ashura looks surprised at your words, and for a second you regret telling him. Seeing the flash of panic on your face, he reaches out and envelops you in a hug. 

“Have you told Reth about this?” he asks, and you shake your head as you press your face into his chest, ashamed.

“You have a lot to talk about then.”

He pulls back, holding you by your shoulders and looking down at you affectionately.

“Whenever you feel like that, you can come talk to me, okay? Don't let it build up.” He pulls back completely, about to turn around. “And I don't know if it's much comfort, but you're very real to us. To me. And I'm glad you're here.” 

With the knot that formed in your throat, you can't utter out a word, so you merely nod at him, thankful. He says his goodbyes and leaves.

After the conversation, your mind and heart are a whirlwind, so you decide to take the rest of the day “off”. You basically stay in bed, cuddling with your palcat until evening. Once you find the strength again, and after feeding yourself and your companion, you set out to the village. Except that you find yourself taking the long way, heading West until you reach the Daya’s farm, although staying out of sight, then walking down the coastline. You twirl the Sundrop Lily you picked on the meadow between your fingers, trying to form a coherent sentence in your head with which to explain to Reth how you feel regarding, well, everything. That he’s putting himself in danger. That you don’t want to see him neither hurt nor burnt out. That you want to help him however you can. That you sometimes feel lost too, given the current circumstances of your existence. That you can’t stand the thought of being stranded here without him. That you care about him. So much. 

At the last thought, heat creeps up to your face, and your heartbeat quickens, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you just allow yourself to feel.

By now, you're standing by the entrance of the sewers that lead to the Underground, so with one last deep breath, you climb in. Reth’s shift should end soon, so you could head back into the storage room together to have a much-needed talk.

As expected, you find Reth behind the bar. Things seem to be slow today, as he wipes down the surface with a bored look on his face. You quickly scan the place to see if Zeki is anywhere within earshot, but you can’t see him, so you walk up to the cook. When he spots you, his immediate reaction is perking up with a smile, but then he goes a bit stiff as he realises why you’re here.

“Hey,” he greets you as you come to a stop on the other side of the bar. “Wasn’t sure you’d come see me. I take it Ashura paid you a visit.”

“He did… Are you, uhm, done soon?” You look around again. “I think we need to talk. In private.”

The slight panic in his face doesn’t escape you, but he’s quick to push past it, trying to play it cool.

“Y-yeah, I was about to wrap up here, actually. Give me a couple of minutes, I’ll meet you in the back?”

“Okay. See you in a bit,” you offer with your best attempt at a reassuring smile. It doesn't seem to do much to calm him down, though.

Once in the storage room, you beeline for his couch, which he uses as a bed, and sit down with a pillow, hugging it to your chest. You can’t help pressing your nose into it; it smells like Reth, and you can feel yourself relax a bit.

Not five minutes later, the door creaks open and closes again, and you straighten up a bit. Reth heads to where you are, taking a seat next to you, and he leans into the back of the couch with a tired sigh. You don’t know how to start the conversation, so you just sit in silence for a moment until he heaves a deep sigh.

“I think I might have used up all my second chances. I really messed this one up,” Reth says, looking ahead instead of at you. “Weird thing is, Ashura didn’t fire me. He even asked me if I was okay. Guess I'm the world’s worst brother and employee.”

He lets out a wry chuckle, then leans forward to prop up his elbows on his knees, holding his face in his hands.

“I keep ruining things. Can’t keep my sister safe, can’t make anyone proud,” he mumbles, and it makes your chest tighten in pain that he thinks of himself that way. You’re about to say something when he straightens up and looks at you with a sad, resigned smile. “It’s like, I know that I'm doing it, right? But I just can't stop myself. Give me the chance, I'll ruin your life too.”

“That's not true…”

“But it is. I'm no good for you. If you stick around, you're only going to get burned.”

Then let me burn to ash, if it means I can keep you by my side, you think, and in the second it takes you to decide if that’s too much or not, he’s taking something out of his pocket. Your heart skips a beat when you recognise the metallic piece. You’ve heard from others about the Palian custom of giving pins as a sign of true romantic interest. Far more than a box of chocolates.

“Before all this happened, I was even gonna ask you to wear this pin,” he says, brushing over it with his thumb. “Stupid, right? I’ll just throw it in the gutter where it belongs.”

“Wait–” you finally find your voice again, and he looks up at you surprised. “It absolutely does not belong in the gutter. Don’t throw it out, I- I’ll take it.”

“Really?,” his brows rise in surprise and what you assume to be hopefulness, then a blush spreads on his face. “You know what this pin means, right?”

You nod. He looks down at it again, ears burning dark pink.

“It means I want to give us, you and me together, a real chance.”

“I know,” you say, putting aside the pillow you’ve been holding onto and reaching for his hand instead, holding his free one with both of yours and giving it a squeeze, which he reciprocates.

“Even after everything?” he asks, voice impossibly small.

“Even after everything.”

“I… Oh. I mean, okay, good. That’s- That’s good.” He clears his throat. “Sorry, I was really expecting this to blow up in my face like everything else. I’ve never actually given my pin to anyone before, you know? Never thought I’d meet someone who wanted it.”

“Well, here I am. So… are you going to give it to me?” You let go of his hand, holding them out with your palms up.

“R-Right.” He carefully places the pin in your palms, folding your fingers over it and holding your closed hands in his larger ones.

You look up from your hands at him, and he looks at you so lovingly, genuine and vulnerable, that you start feeling the familiar prick of tears coming behind your eyes. But you don’t want him to see you cry, so you lean in and place a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth instead, then slip your hands out of his grip to hug him.

“For the record, you're not the worst brother or employee,” you say, sneaking in a quick peck to his cheek in between words here and there. “You’re an amazing brother, caring, loving, selfless. You're a wonderful employee and Ashura wants to keep you around because he cares about you. And you’re the best boyfriend I could ask for. I am proud of you. And I know your parents would be too if they saw who you've become.”

At your words, Reth’s body trembles with a silent sob, and you hug him tighter. He lifts you up and you climb onto his lap so you’re straddling him. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, while you lovingly stroke up and down his back.

“And don’t even think about saying that I'm too good for you or some nonsense like that. You deserve the world and more, Reth.”

He chuckles; you know him too well, as he was about to say exactly that.

“Thank you, sweet tooth,” he mumbles into your skin instead. “I needed this.”

After a moment longer, he lets out a deep exhale, then pulls back slightly to look at you. His eyes are a little puffy, and you cup his face, stroking over his cheekbones. You press your lips to his, kissing him once, twice, and wanting to deepen it, but you have to break it off to yawn, unable to stop it. Reth laughs.

“Long day?” he asks.

“Not really? Just glad we talked about this, I guess…” You give his cheek a quick peck. “Can I stay the night?”

“Of course.”

You climb off his lap and you both change into something more comfortable. Reth lends you one of his shirts, and you’re left in just that and your underwear, not really wanting to sleep in your work trousers that you were gardening in the day before. You neatly fold your clothes and put them on a chair, carefully placing Reth’s pin on top, and you take a second just looking at it.

When you turn around, Reth is sitting on his bed in his sleeping garments, looking at the floor with a violent blush. You look down at yourself, suddenly self-conscious, and you place your arms in front of you protectively, not that it does much at hiding anything though.

“I- I’m sorry. I just didn't want to sleep in my dirty work clothes,” you say sheepishly.” Does it make you… uncomfortable?”

“No! No, not that. It's just, uh,” he clears his throat. “It’s quite the view. I don’t want to stare and make you uncomfortable.”

Your heart is beating so fast, you can hear it rumbling in your ears.

“It’s okay, Reth,” you say, voice trembling slightly. “You can look.”

He tears his gaze from the ground to your face, checking if you're sure, and when you give him a little nod, his eyes slowly start wandering downwards. They travel over your neck, chest, stomach until they reach your thighs, where he seems to linger for a bit, then he gives you a quicker once-over. You just stand there, doing everything in your power to not hug yourself or pull the shirt down to cover up.

You’re not sure what you’d even expect him to say except a ‘nice’ maybe, so you just walk to the bed, lifting the covers and climbing in.

“Well, if you're gonna sleep like that,” Reth says suddenly, standing up, and you watch with big eyes as he reaches over his back and pulls on his shirt. “I think it's only fair I take this off so you have something to look at too.”

In a swift motion, he pulls his shirt over his head, throwing it somewhere without much regard. His cooking outfit didn't ever really do much to hide his silhouette, so you knew he’s fit, but your heart was not ready for this. You can feel your face burning up significantly, and before you can stop yourself, your eyes are roaming his form: from his broad shoulders to the small waist, his toned arms and pecs, all you can think of is all the hickeys you want to add to his freckled skin.

Your eyes go back up to meet his, and even in the low light of the storage room, you see the dark pink blush going from the tip of his ears all the way to his sternum. He gives you a second to take it all in, seemingly pleased with the way your eyes are practically eating him up, then climbs into bed after you. Since it’s more of a couch rather than a bed, there’s not a lot of space to begin with, let alone for two people, so Reth hugs you into his chest, with your head tucked under his chin, and tangles his legs with yours, and he’s so warm, it’s almost too much. Sure you’ve cuddled and shared a bed before, but there was never this much skin contact.

His hand shyly slips underneath your shirt to give your hip a squeeze, and you involuntarily let out a squeak of sorts, to which he can't help but snort.

“Cute,” is all he says, as his hand travels further and comes to a stop at your waist, while your own arm snakes around his torso, holding onto him.

“Is this okay?” he whispers, and his hand slips to the small of your back, softly drawing random figures. You merely hum in response. Your face is basically pressed to his chest already, so you place a kiss right under his collarbone, and you hear him inhale sharply. You kiss him again, and again, then give a tentative bite.

“Sweet tooth,” he growls the nickname warningly. “Neither of us is gonna get any sleep if you go there.”

“Sorry, I couldn't help myself,” you giggle, propping yourself up to properly kiss him good night, then you turn around, and he hugs your back into his chest as you hold his hand over your heart. “Good night, Reth. I’m glad to be here with you.”

“Me too babe, me too.”

~~~~~

🐥 [link to join my taglist is in my pinned post!]

[cinewhore]

and we’re off!

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Hi! This is the Morissa x Reader requester, finally got it edited, lol. (If u don't want to do it that's completely fine ☺️)

(Would love it being split into or a long chapter with the build up and then the fucking lol)

Sub!Morticia x Sub!Larissa x Top!Tall!Fem!Shapeshifter!Reader, Morticia and Larissa loved being carried and had been begging to be manhandled during sex but Reader is too scared to because of her werewolf strength but Tish and Rissa conduct a plan to get Reader to break and do it, and when that happens Reader snaps and fucks them both into nothing but babbling nonsense messes.

(Morticia loves being manhandled during sex and moved by Reader into the position Reader wants her in, Morticia loves being carried upright, legs wrapped around readers waist, arms around readers neck and head tucked into neck(doesn’t care where y’all are will just jump into ur arms and snuggles into you, been that way sinceur time at Nevermore together, Same with Rissa but she loves being carried bridal style and curled up with head tucked into readers neck. What sets Reader off is when she peaks into Rissa's office and sees them masterbating side by side but they don't know Reader saw till she gets home)

(Biting kink(likes to bite and be bit, Morticia), spanking(both), Daddy kink(both), shapeshifter peen(Reader), praise kink(both), they both absolutely PREEN at being called good girls and melt on the spot (literally ruined underwear).

Hey there anon, thanks for being so patient 💕 I would love to write this!! We love sub!larissa & sub!morticia 🤭🏳️‍🌈 AND we LOVE some build up! I added a song for inspiration and some extra spice 😉 SMUT to come in later chapters!

Bend us, Break us Pt. 1 ~Sub!Larissa Weems xSub!Morticia Addams xFem Dom!Tall!Shapeshifter!Reader

Link to Part 2 & Part 3

Mommy…Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: NSFW, implied smut, Dom & Sub relationships, polyamorous lifestyle, etc…

Part 1 of a mini series

Enjoy (;

After the fiasco with Wednesday and Marilyn Thornhill almost destroying the school, Morticia had found it best to join the faculty to keep an eye on Wednesday.

The new school year welcomed Morticia Addams as the official Potions instructor as well as You as the new Herbology Professor.

And Larissa being lucky to be alive was an understatement.

You as the Marilyn’s assistant had found Larissa with the poison already in her system and everyone else having left. You had managed to counter act the poison with a rare healing plant that you had been secretly growing on the side.

From there, Larissa had immediately given you the job of being the herbology professor.

~~~

Morticia and Larissa had always had a thing.

And now that they were working together, it made their thing even more apparent…

But there was one singular, nagging issue…

They were both submissive.

Larissa spent her whole day and night dominating in her life, so when it came to her sex life, she was more than willing if not insistent that she hand over the reins of control.

Similarly, Morticia was the matriarch over the entire Addams family and she had such a submissive husband, that she couldn’t handle another thing in which she was expected to be in control.

Both women just needed a break for gods sake…

And this thing between them, only made the pair even more sexually frustrated.

Luckily, They found you.

~~~

After Larissa’s near death experience, she insisted to take you out for coffee as a thank you.

From the time you had been working as the herbology assistant, Larissa had gauged you to be introverted, calm, and shy person. Overall very submissive.

This was ironic to her as your build screamed the exact opposite; You were toned and quite tall (and that’s a big claim coming from Larissa), you carried yourself with elegance and dressed well.

But your presence was quiet, you did as you were told, and you rarely raised a hand against anything.

But Ohhh how her perspective changed when you two met for that coffee…

She had insisted that you call her Larissa, and you had immediately insisted the same for you as well.

Unlike at the school, you were far more talkative to the blonde and your laughter and smiles were far less contained.

Larissa quickly came to find your laugh rather intoxicating…

You were a lot more straight forward and clear on what you wanted and what you thought.

She realized that while you were introverted, you were certainly not submissive.

And as you and her were chatting, a thought sparked in Larissa’s mind…

You were the solution to her and Morticia’s little dilemma.

That was of course if a) you even liked women and b) you were even interested.

Which both of these things stumped Larissa a bit as she had no clue.

So naturally Larissa decided that after her coffee with you she would go directly to Morticia’s office to confer with her.

~~~

“I’m sorry, what?” Morticia asked, a bit stunned from the retelling of events which Larissa had just given her.

“It’s a lot I know. But I think it could work… But I don’t know if she’s interested or even gay, ‘Tish…” Larissa continued.

Their cute nicknames for each other always made the other woman blush…

At that, Morticia let out a elegant giggle if there ever was one.

“She’s gay, ‘Rissa…” Morticia chuckled.

Larissa looked at her with confusion.

Morticia burst into more laughter at her face, “You really have terrible gaydar…!” She chuckled once she had composed herself more.

“I do not…” Larissa grumbled.

“Yes you do.”

At not wanting to discuss this topic anymore, Larissa pivoted the conversation.

“Alright, but even if she is gay, there is no guarantee that she would be interested in something like that…” she spoke with a hint of disappointment laced in her tone.

“Hmmm…” Morticia mused, “Well why don’t we just ask her…?”

“Who?” was Larissa’s immediate, next question.

The room went silent.

“Not it!” Both of the women yelled simultaneously.

They both groaned and laughed at their own unwillingness to step up and ask.

“Perhaps it would be better if we both approached Y/N.” Larissa stated.

And Morticia couldn’t agree more.

~~~

Everyone knew that being called into the principals office was never a good thing…

So when you got requested by the principal at the crack ass of dawn on the following Monday morning, you were nervous to say the least.

Had you done something at the coffee meet?

Did you forget to turn something in?

Where you in trouble??

As you reached Larissa’s office doors, you took a deep breath and knocked with a slightly shaky hand.

“Come in!” You heard two muffled voices yell.

Two people?

Maybe you had offended or hurt somebody??

You took another deep breath before opening the door to be met by none other than Larissa Weems and Morticia Addams standing in Larissa’s office.

~~~

The second you had walked into the office, Morticia and Larissa shared a look and both committed in that moment.

“Professor, Lovely for you to join us. We had a matter that we wanted to discuss with you.” Larissa began.

“Alright. What’s the matter?” You asked.

Larissa looked over to Morticia for help.

“Well… Why don’t we all have a seat first.” Morticia suggested, glancing over to Larissa dottingly.

Larissa let out a small sigh of relief which she hoped you hadn’t caught before continuing, “Yes! That sounds like an excellent idea. Please Morticia, Miss L/N, do sit.”

“Thank you.” You spoke, “And Professor or Y/N will be just fine.”

Larissa didn’t meet your gaze but rather have a curt nod and a small smile as she too sat down.

“So… What would you like to talk about?” You asked again.

Both women took a deep breath.

They exchanged glances, in an almost fight for who would ask you…

Morticia won.

“We… We are looking… Well, we thought…” Larissa stumbled over her words.

“We’re polyamorous!” Morticia blurted out.

Larissa’s eyes widened at Morticia’s bluntness, “Yes, and we’re interested in you…”

Silence.

Both women sat there on the edge of of their seats, awaiting your response.

A small smirk crept up on your face as you finally responded, “Ah I see… Well then what do you want from me?”

Both woman stared at you doe eyed with their mouths agape as they both audibly gulped.

~~~

When you knocked on Larissa’s office door, you were nervous.

When you heard two people calling for you to enter, you were still shaking.

But then you walked in met by none other than Larissa Weems and Morticia Addams…

There was something off.

You knew from the second the pair had exchanged glances as you walked in. It looked like glances of reassurance almost…

Suddenly, you felt a little less nervous.

“Professor, Lovely for you to join us. We had a matter that we wanted to discuss with you.” Larissa had said.

Her voice was faltering and she was straining and struggling to keep her authoritative tone…

You knew this behavior…

“Alright. What’s the matter?” You matter of factly stated.

Seemingly the entire power dynamic has flipped on its top in a matter of seconds…

Then Larissa looked over to Morticia AGAIN. You had never seen such a dependent, questioning side to the woman.

“Well… Why don’t we all have a seat first.” Morticia said,

in what you assumed she tried to convey as a decision but came out a lot more like a questioning suggestion…

Then you heard Larissa’s breath hitch in a sigh.

You flickered your eyes in her direction, but she quickly looked away.

“Yes! That sounds like an excellent idea. Please Morticia, Miss L/N, do sit.” larissa managed to choke out.

She was back on a last name basis… desperate to try and front some sort of formality and power, you noted.

You were sure to correct her, something inside you was driving to put Larissa back in her place…

“Thank you. And Professor or Y/N will be just fine.”

At that Larissa still couldn’t meet your gaze, and Morticia was conveniently staring out the window.

But you caught her recognition with her small smile and nod.

That would never do if she was yours…

But she wasn’t yours.

“So… What would you like to talk about?” You asked again, now even more curious than before.

Both women’s breathing hitched, which they corrected almost immediately with a deep breath.

You were fully involved at this point. You wanted to know what had them so riled up.

And then they started flickering their gazes back and forth…

It was only for mere seconds, but you wouldn’t miss something like that.

And this is when it clicked for you…

These two strong, independent women in front of you were submissively squirming underneath you…

They were fighting for dominance.

And Morticia most definitely had won.

“We… We are looking… Well, we thought…” Larissa stuttered, causing a blush to tint her cheeks from embarrassment and causing you to have to stifle a giggle.

“We’re polyamorous!” Morticia blurted out, but immediately becoming red after her own statement.

You could tell that that made Larissa shift and squirm in her seat…

They were getting to the matter which made them squirm so deliciously…

“Yes, and we’re interested in you…” Larissa added on in a desperate attempt for their desperation to be salvaged.

But it was too late.

You knew…

“Ah I see… Well then what do you want from me?”

You knew what they wanted…

But you wanted to make them say it…

~~~

Part 2 linked here 😏

[mookybear12404]

Been on and off crying all today at work and I can’t STOP IT

It’s not official yet and I know there’s a lot of stuff that’s gotta happen first and she can always change her mind, but my housemate offered this morning for me to take Tish with me when we part ways at the end of this semester because of how she’s bonded with me. There’s literally nothing else in this world that I could want more and I’m trying not to get too set until it’s official but I just ;_;

[ficsofabotchedmind]

For better or worse? Time will tell.

Summary? None.

Once again, thank you @cissyenthusiast010155 ! If it wasn't for you I'd be fucked (in the bad way). 🥹

Warnings? Yes; NSFW, 18+, smut, oral sex, slight, if any at all, Angst.

———————————————————————————

Larissa sat in her chair by the fire thinking of what had transpired earlier in the day. Did she really think that letting the offspring of Morticia and Gomez Addams into Nevermore was a good idea? No.

Did she think that pairing her with Enid Sinclair was a good idea? Yes.

The girls reminded Larissa much of herself and Morticia back in the day. Enid was like Morticia personality wise, bubbly & friendly. Wednesday reminded Larissa of herself, standoffish & firm.

Larissa couldn't help but pray that whatever she had just allowed to happen wouldn't come back a bite her in the ass.

She snorted to herself at the thought, she knew damn well it would come back and bite her. It always would dealing with someone who is part Frump. Now don't get her wrong, she has no issue with Wednesday, just one with her mother.

Larissa let out a heavy sigh, took a long swallow of her wine and started thinking back to when her and Morticia were still students in Nevermore.

Nevermore, 1990

"Morticia, you can't just go around doing that!" Larissa exclaimed through giggles

Morticia, quite busy with her head in Larissas neck, didn't care at the moment. She just enjoyed the sounds she was pulling from her leggy, blonde girlfriend.

"Morticia, I'm serious! Enough!" Larissa hissed out, "I think I hear someone coming."

Morticia let out a quiet snicker but thought better of saying what she wanted to say, "Yes, mon amour, whatever your heart desires."

Larissa thought for a second and grumbled, "My heart desires for us to have a moments peace." she thought a bit more a smirked, "And so does my body."

"Oh you flirt! You can't expect me not to do anything after you say something like that." Morticia exclaimed through a pout

Larissa let out a giggle and opened her mouth but before she could say anything further she was proven right, and next thing she knew Gomez popped around the corner.

Larissa, while not a werewolf, let out the most impressive growl anyone has ever heard.

Upon hearing the sound emerge from her girlfriend Morticia shivered in excitement but from what she could tell out of the corner of her eye, Gomez did the exact opposite.

Larissa, upon her realization that she scared the boy damn near out of his wits, smirked.

"How can we help you, Gomez?" asked Larissa through gritted teeth and a fake smile.

Gomez, now nervous, let out a shaky laugh, "I was just wondering if I could speak with, Tish?"

Larissas teeth ground together upon hearing the nickname the Addams boy gave Morticia.

"Tish?" Larissa asked

"Y-yes? Oh! Um, I meant Morticia!" stuttered Gomez nervously

Morticia noticing that her normally loving and kind girlfriend seemed to want to snap Gomez's neck at any moment accepted the offer to speak with him, "I'll be right with you, Gomez. Now run along."

As Gomez rounded the door out of earshot Larissa hissed, "Are you fucking joking, Morticia? That boy has had his eyes on you ever since he's arrived! Are you sure you wish to speak with him,-" Larissa had to take a deep breath before she spat out, "-privately?"

Morticia sighed, she knew of Gomez's feelings but was not in the mood to entertain them today. She gently approached Larissa, who had moved across the room while in a huff, cupped her cheeks, stood on her toes and pressed a gentle, loving kiss to Larissas lips.

"My darling shifter, I will not fall for his little attempts. He can wish all he wants,-" Morticias smile grew more provocative, catching her bottom lip between her teeth, let her hands wonder, "-but he will NOT be getting anything from me." and with that Morticia drew Larissa in for a long, deep kiss.

Once pulling away, Larissa seemed in a daze at first but slowly snapping out of it, she muttered to Morticia, "Ok, I trust you. I just don't trust him."

Morticia, with a wicked gleam and an evil smirk, "I know, ma chérie but he will lay no hand on me for if he does, I'll cut his dick off with that lovely sword mounted in the hall."

At that being said Morticia turned and walked off, throwing one last look of one can only describe as pure sex towards the blonde.

Larissa shivered in arousal, "That woman will be the death of me."

2 hours later

"Hello, my love!" Morticia giggled out as she entered their shared dorm, "What are you up too?"

"I am trying to figure out how this stupid fucking essay is going to work!" Larissa was far beyond frustrated with this essay and Morticia could see that if she didn't distract her girlfriend now, there would be trouble in the very near future.

Morticia thought about what was interrupted earlier and smirked, "Oh darling! W-"

Larissa interrupted before Morticia even got to speak, "Not now, Mo. This has to be finished by next week."

Morticia cocked a brow, she could not bel-well yes, she could. So she just had to get more creative and so she removed her school uniform and stood directly in front of Larissa.

Larissa caught sight of bare skin in front of her a furrowed her eyebrows and slowly looked up and what traveled through her mind, "Oh good God. Her legs, n-no underwear. Oh dear God she hasn't worn underwear all fucking day! God her stomach looks biteable, damn fucking bra in the way. Oh of course she's smug, I'm fucking drooling."

"Have you decided on what or who you'd rather do, my stately Sequoia?" Morticia asked with a dirty smirk firmly in place

"Yes! God yes!" Larissa got out as she shoved her books off of the bed and stumbled to get up.

Morticia giggled at Larissa and her excitement of finally getting what she was robbed of a little over 2 hours earlier.

"Be careful, we don't want you to hurt anything, my darling." Morticia got out through a fit of giggles

And once Larissa had finally gotten herself and her bed right and ready, "Alright, all done! No more schoolwork or anything like it, promise!"

Morticia smirked and unhooked her bra and let it fall, "Good, now where were we?"

And all during the night you would have thought that neither girl was human with the sounds they each were making. Luckily the dove had out a spell on the room after formulating her little plan.

Present day, 2022

Larissa drained the last bit of the bottle of wine and sighed, "So much for not falling for his tricks, eh Morticia..."

"I didn't fall for them completely, my love." upon hearing that she whirled around and spotted Morticia.

"What are doing here this, Mrs. Addams?" Larissa gritted out

Morticia expecting the hostility in her tone, made sure to keep hers calm, "I was hoping to speak with you, Larissa."

"What about? It's too late in the day to want to talk about your daughter and her academics. So what do you want?" hissed an angry Larissa

"I want to talk about us, my darling. And before you say anything, I have had a talk with Gomez! We have agreed that as long as the other person is happy then they may see other people." Morticia said, worrying at her nails

Larissa, not believing a single word at first, looked down. Morticia was ruining her nails, something she never did unless she was truly nervous.

"It will take some time for me to truly believe you, Morticia." Larissa spoke cautiously

Morticia smiled up on hearing her name being said without anger and bitterness behind it, "Yes! Sorry, yes I can accept that."

"Good, now if you'd please leave. We can talk more tomorrow" Larissa said, desperately needing Morticia to leave so she can retreat back to her room to handle the wet problem they both caused.

Making sure to keep her legs as close as possible when she walked, she approached Morticia and desperately tried to guide her out, but the woman wouldn't budge.

Larissa, looking down about to say something, noticed a smirk on the doves face. "Oh no, she's noticed." Larissa thought, "she's like a bloody hound! Quick, Larissa! Say something to get her out!" and yet the woman couldn't form a single sentence.

"Do you you really want me to leave?" Morticia questioned innocently, "Or would you like for me to sit you on that desk and make you scream my name?" she then said not so innocently.

Larissa mind skidded to a halt, her body growing warmer by the second, underwear no so very clearly sticking to her, she gave a shaky, "Yes, please."

Did Larissa think this was a good idea? No, because she couldn't fucking think.

Morticia guided Larissa to sit upon her desk, "Lean back, ma chérie."

Larissa, knowing she was not steady at all, propped up on her elbows and watched as the raven-haired goddess dropped to her knees. Growing water by the second she made a whining noise to which Morticia immediately silenced with a look.

"Be patient, Larissa. You'll get what you want, just wait a bit. Now, hips up." Morticia crooned out as she bunched Larissas skirt around her hips and slid her very soaked underwear down her long legs.

"No touching, keep your hands at your sides, and NO moving your hips." Morticia stated

"Deal! Now, just bloody get on with it, woman!" Larissa whined out

Morticia smirked and let her tongue trail through Larissa, basking in the taste the was her first and forever love.

Morticia gripped Larissas thighs and held them apart and took her time nipping at each one, drawing helps and whines out of Larissa.

"Oh fuck." Larissa breathed out as Morticia circled her tongue around the throbbing bud.

Morticia let a smirk tug at her lips enjoying the fact she still has such an effect on the woman. Morticia applied immediate, hard pressure with her tongue to Larissas throbbing and swollen bud and that earned the loudest groan that she's ever heard from the woman above her.

Larissa, giving up her fight to stay upright, laid back and gripped the edges of her desk so tight her, knuckles turned white.

"Fuck, Tisha! Please for the love of God, stop teasing!" Larissa cried out.

Morticia, glaring through her lashes, gave a sharp nip to Larissas clit in retaliation, with that Larissa yelped but shut up and Morticia soothed the sting with a broad lick.

While above, Larissa was flushed, panting, trembling, and whining. All she could think was, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, ffffuckkkk!"

Morticia latched onto Larissas clit and gave a sharp suck, and Larissas hips bucked into her mouth at that. Morticia used that as a distraction to plunge in two fingers, starting a hard and fast pace immediately.

Larissa let out a sharp, pleasured filled scream at the feeling, a smile forming, eyes hooded, brows furrowed, breathing ragged, nothing but screams emerging at the feeling of the fast and relentless pace Morticia set from the start with her fingers and the feeling of Tisha's tongue, teeth, and lips on her clit.

Morticia dragged her nails carefully against the sweet spot inside the woman above her, causing her hips to jerk and a squeak to erupt from her mouth. Still relentless with her place she started curling her fingers as she pulled out, reveling in the sounds it drew from the taller woman.

Feeling Riss's walls contracting around her fingers caused Morticia to speed up her motions. No matter how much her wrist was cramping all she wanted was to draw an orgasm out of the woman above her. Give her something much better than Larissa could give herself in this moment.

Larissa, growing closer, let out a whine, "T-Fuck! Close! Tisha, I'm close!"

Morticia changed the angel a bit, shifting one of Larissas legs up in the air and down a bit as best she could from her position on the floor between the woman's legs.

With the new angle Morticias finger were able to drive deeper reaching spots that haven't been touched in so long.

Morticia could feel that Larissa was on the brink and let her eyes flicker open and up, "Go ahead, ma chérie. Let go for me, my darling." and with that said latched back on successfully driving the woman above her over the edge fast and hard.

"Fuck! God yes! T-Tisha, thank you." Larissa screamed out and continued singing Morticias name as if it was a pray in and of itself.

After successfully driving the woman she loves to 2 strong orgasms she brings her back down to earth. Gently lapping at her, cleaning her. She stands and carefully lowers Larissas leg down to lie on the desk, dangling off the edge bent at the knee.

Morticia grasps Larissas hand and carefully brushes some strands of hair, that had fallen out of the perfect up do, off of her sweaty forehead.

"Let's get you cleaned up, my love." Morticia gently guiding Larissa up and into her apartment off to the side of the office.

Getting the bath drawn and Larissa undressed and bathed all went with ease, and now lying in bed beside the woman curled around her, "Get some sleep, ma chérie. We shall talk in the morning about everything and I promise you, I will never leave you again."

Larissa had no strength to reply but instead pressed a soft kiss to Morticias shoulder and lay her head back down and snuggled in.

The next morning

Morticia was still by her side, she didn't lie. Let's just say more than a talk was had and the dearly loved principal of Nevermore could be seen walking a tad funny and the smirk adorning Morticias face was unmistakable.

Wednesday recognized everything clearly. Of course she had, she an Addams after all and living with her parents had taught her things. To say she was disgusted was an understatement but it wasn't because it was two women, she's more open-minded than that. She was disgusted that it was her mother and the principal.

Wednesday mused to herself with an evil smirk, "Well, at least now I can do as I wish with my time."

Boy was she wrong.

[sapphicvqmpires]

❁ཻུ۪۪♡ all eyes on you

Pairing - shuri x black fem!reader

Word Count - 8.6k

Contains - smut (18+), dom!shuri, fingering, cunnilingus, edging, choking/breathplay, overstimulation, voyeurism, dacryphilia (kind of), strap-on, semi-public sex, swearing, kinda mean!shuri, tad bit of angst

Divider From - @firefly-graphics

Sneak Peak - Three and a half weeks had gone by, each second brang an agonizing twist in your stomach as you fought the urge to run back to Shuri. Truthfully, you were surprised you held on this long, you were doing so well. You did a few boxing lessons with a new coach, and she was good enough to get the training done; but everyday you boxed opponents that lived in your head, forcing punches in the ring that surrounded your mind. And it was that day, the day that curiosity got the best of you, emerging victorious in the hidden match that tugged at your brain as you found yourself back where you started

Tags - @inmyheadimobsessed @amplifiedmoan @vampzxi @abenomeiiii @heejayy @shurismainbxtch @shurislover @shuriszn @naomis-daydream @prettymrswright @pocketsizedpanther @gardenof-venus @vys-intentions @tiii-iiiiii @venusdusse @verachii @thelibravenus @ihearttish @playhousedistee @somethingcleaverandwhitty @niyahwrites @prettymrswright @tishsrealwife (comment if you wanna be tagged in future fics, 18+ please)

Writers Note: in honour of Tish announcing that’s she’s gonna be playing a boxer, here’s some good shit for y’all!! Love youuusss. Hope you enjoy!

❁ཻུ۪۪♡ As the bell rings, Shuri immediately takes a defensive stance, guarding her face with her gloves. Her opponent comes at her with a flurry of punches, but Shuri is too quick for her. She ducks and weaves, slipping punches with ease. In a sudden move, Shuri lands a powerful left hook that sends her opponent reeling. The crowd erupts in applause as Shuri continues to dominate the fight. Her movements are fluid and graceful, yet powerful and precise. She is in complete control of the ring, and her opponent is no match for her. The crowd surrounding you roared as Shuri blew unstoppable punches, knocking her opponent out as she reveled in the sound of her boxing name falling off hundreds of tongues.

“Panther! Panther! Panther!”

She was a skilled fighter, with lightning-fast reflexes that always knew how to bring life to the crowd. Shuri was also a strategic thinker, always looking for ways to outsmart her opponents and stay ahead of the game. You were one of the few people who got lucky enough to have her as a boxing coach, and this was the first time she invited you to come to one of her matches. The sight of her was addicting. The way she basked in the praise being given to her as the sweat poured off her inked body, it made your feelings for her magnify in ways you hadn’t planned for tonight. Seeing her as an active participant in the ring opened your mind to new possibilities. The way her skin hugged every muscular contour, the way her sweat shimmered against her dark skin, the way she smirked in her victory as blood poured down her face, spitting it out as she continued to linger in her praise; your mind wandered to fantasies you shouldn’t be having. Her physique was lean and muscular, her arms toned, and her core was defined to perfection; all a result from years of rigorous training and conditioning. You couldn’t help but get lost in her build and the way her sweat gleamed against it, she was annoyingly attractive and it didn’t help that she was an obvious flirt and damn good at it.

“Panther! Panther! Panther!”

The crowd continued to chant for Shuri and you joined in their celebration by smiling uncontrollably as she winked at you from the ring. Her mouthguard came to play, gripping them through her pearly teeth and the sight alone almost made you crumble. Shuri was becoming bigger, more known in the boxing world. She was climbing her way up, and although you were undeniably happy for her, it was not your desire to be dragged into the spotlight because of her fame. Yes, you were grateful for this opportunity to have her as your boxing coach, but you were a simple girl. You loved boxing as a form of exercise, expression, and movement; Shuri loved boxing for all these reasons too, but to see her bask in the praise being given to her, you knew she loved it all. It wasn’t a bad thing, it just wasn’t your thing.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Hmm?”

“The match, baby…did you enjoy it? It wasn’t too much? The lights, the loud crowd…the blood? You’re ok?”

You hesitated, uncertain about how to respond to her question because, truth be told, you found yourself relishing it more than you should have.

“Yeah, I enjoyed it.”

Shuri smiled, her gaze focused on the road ahead as she drove you home.

“You sure? I didn’t see you yelling my name like the rest of the crowd,” she playfully teases, a crooked smile painting her face that tickled your stomach.

“I was just basking it all in, is all. You did amazing out there, Shuri. Like insanely good.”

Shuri smiled once more, clearly flattered by your words.

The rest of the ride home was filled with nothing new. Shuri used her eyes and nonverbal cues, skillfully enticing you with a seductive allure that permeated her every word and gesture. It was clear that she was well aware of her effect on you, and her strategies were undeniably effective.

She pulled up to your condo, putting the car in park as she turned her body to face you. Her face was perfect, even after the cuts and bruises that stained her facial facade, her lips swollen from taking blows, her beauty remained untouched. And when that radiant smile graced her face, it sent your heart racing in an instant.

“You coming to practice on Thursday?”

“I’ll be there.”

You weren’t sure if you were going to be there.

“Good. Just making sure this match didn’t scare you away from boxing.”

A fleeting silence hung in the air, your mind filled with a whirlwind of overwhelming thoughts you had no desire to hold in anymore and it was written all over your face.

“Why do you train me alone? Away from all your other students…why do I get trained alone?,” you abruptly ask, immediately shifting the tone that’s been set.

Shuri’s face is covered in confusion. “Y/n, I already told you. I see a certain potential in you I don’t see in others. You have skill…real skill that deserves extra attention. Didn’t I already tell you this?”

“Yeah, I guess you did.”

Shuri's index finger glides across your face, tracing a gentle path against your skin while you reluctantly succumb to her touch. She possessed a profound understanding of how to provoke a reaction from you, both inside and outside of your boxing sessions.

“I also think the prettiest girls deserve more attention,” she adds, her voice flowing with a seamless alluring quality. You let out a pitiful smile, one that leads Shuri to believe she can push the boundaries even further. “We can take it to your room, pretty. What do you say?”

She was unbelievably enticing, almost impossible to deny because you almost straddled her at that very moment and shoved your tongue down her throat. Your pussy throbbed at her words, her gentle touch made you leak. You discreetly squeezed your thighs together, silently hoping that she wouldn't notice the desperate act, but she did.

“What’s wrong?,” she laughed. “I can be gentle if you need me to.”

You swear you almost let out a moan right there, but you swallowed it, refusing to give her the satisfaction of the power she most definitely had over you. You permitted yourself to savor the delicate caress of her touch for a brief while before opting to stand your ground.

“I’ll see you on Thursday, Shuri.”

She smiled, kindly pulling herself back into driving position before starting her car. “I’ll see you on Thursday, y/n.”

After reciprocating her smile, you departed from her vehicle, carrying an intense turmoil deep within your gut. The sensation of unease brought forward a sense of guilt, because you wanted to explain to Shuri that you needed a new coach for the sake of your own well-being. Your need to stay focused barely outweighed the fact that Shuri was an extraordinary trainer, surpassing your wildest expectations that you’ll forever be grateful for; but she also served as a captivating distraction and this realization solidified your decision to part ways.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Shuri walked around you, analyzing your stance and body position as you threw blows to the punching bag. She spoke in a calm, authoritative voice, guiding you through each movement. The sound of your gloves hitting the punching bag echoed through the empty gym, as Shuri encourages you to hit faster and harder. You’re sweating, and Shuri’s slight menacing stare was starting to make you nervous. This mentorship was normal, but after her touch from a couple nights ago, her gaze was making you tense, resulting in you being unable to perform to the best of your abilities. Shuri noticed this.

“Keep your guard up, y/n,” Shuri instructs. “And keep your feet moving. You’re doing so well, don’t forget what I taught you.”

You nod, trying to comply with her instructions, but your body becomes enticed by the way she looms over you. You could swear her eyes began to wander to places they shouldn't be, causing your breath to catch in your chest. You throw in some more punches, eager to impress Shuri.

“Again,” Shuri demands, her voice stern. “Put some more power in it this time.”

With a deep inhale, you gather yourself before proceeding to unleash your punches, envisioning counterattacks being thrown in response. Your body moves with fluidity, effortlessly positioning itself to facilitate powerful arm movements. As you throw your punches, your box braids gracefully sway in sync with the rhythm of your body. The sweat trickled down your face as you grew confident in your quick reflexes and the proud smile that drew across Shuri’s face, but that confidence quickly diminished as you felt rough hands clutch your hips. Shuri positioned you, pressing her chest against your back and you almost went limp.

“You’re so close, baby, just position yourself a little more like this, yeah?” She exerted firm pressure on your hips, forcefully maneuvering your body to adhere to her commands. Her hand started a deliberate descent down your body, burying her face into your neck while your chest rose and fell with each labored breath. Her touch pressed firmly against the sensitive area just before your pussy, causing your breathing to intensify even further, your knees unintentionally buckling up. “Just relax, y/n. Wanna know how to throw the perfect punch? You have to relax your body.”

“Shuri,” you lightly moan, and you feel her smirk against the skin on your neck. She lets you go, granting you the necessary space you need to proceed. A sense of embarrassment washes over you as you realize she was testing you, assessing to see how easy it would be to get you to comply to her and you were no challenge at all.

“You keep practicing your positioning, I’m gonna go take a quick shower, ok? I’ll be in the locker room if you need anything. Keep it moving, I wanna see you perfect this by the time I’m out.”

You nod.

The gym goes quiet, with nothing but the sound of your fists hitting the vinyl material in front of you. You knew today had to be the day; the day you would admit to Shuri that you needed to find a new coach for your own betterment. You would tell her that you appreciated her hard work and all the dedication she put into making you a better boxer, but then admit that you had to find someone new. Someone that would teach you the work without giving you the distraction.

After what seemed like 15 minutes, Shuri appeared from the locker room. She was wearing baggy shorts that extended slightly above her knees, revealing glimpses of her Nike boxers peeking out from the waistband. Her matching Nike sports bra accentuated her well-defined physique, showcasing her sturdy arms. Intricate ink covered her skin, with tattoos adorning both arms, extending upwards toward her neck. Additionally, symmetric tattoos trailed both sides of her torso, mirroring each other in captivating patterns. A white towel was draped casually around her neck and shoulders, while her flawless curls glistened with dampness from the shower water and you could not ignore how mouth-watering good she looked. Oh, how you just wanted to…

“Y/n? You down?,” she repeated, her voice abruptly interrupting thoughts that had no business taking up space in your already stressed mind.

“Hmm?”

She chuckled. “I was asking if you wanted to come to my next match. You know…since you enjoyed the first one so much,” she asked with a flirt. Of course you wanted to go to her next match; cheer her on as you relished in her attractiveness, how good she looked in the ring as she basked in the crowd's praise. But you knew better. Going to see her a second time would only make it harder for you to stand firm in your decision.

“Actually, I was hoping to talk to you about something.”

“Yeah? What was that?”

You inhaled deeply, bracing yourself as the words hesitated to escape your lips.

“So…I was thinking…”

Shuri raised an eyebrow. “What were you thinking?”

“I was thinkingggg…”

“Fuck y/n, just spill it out.”

You sighed, frightened of the response she would give you. “I think I need a new boxing coach…”

“What?” Her face went stiff, confusion written all over it and rightfully so. You lightly tossed your gloves to the side, massaging your sore knuckles as you made your way towards her.

“Look Shuri…you’ve been a great coach. It’s obviously a once in a lifetime opportunity to train with someone as gifted as you but…”

“But?”

You pondered, questioning yourself on how you should proceed to complete your sentence; whether you should tell her the complete truth or give her a fragment of what needed to be said. You settled for the safer option.

“I just don’t want to get in the way of your career…you got a lot going on for you, I wouldn’t wanna slow your ass down.”

She momentarily paused, tugging on the ends of the towel that wrapped around her shoulder. She tilted her head back lightly, a playful grin emerged on her face as she chuckled softly.

“So what’s the real reason, y/n?,” she laughed.

“I’m not playing Shuri.”

“I’m not playing with your ass either, y/n.”

“Shuri, let’s be for real for a second. Your name is climbing up there. I’m not tryna get sucked into all that. I need a new coach, that’s it. Now stop being nosey and hop off my ass.”

A profound silence permeated the gym, enveloping the space as Shuri stood still, deep in contemplation of the words you had spoken. You remained motionless, unable to do anything but wait anxiously for her response, feeling light-headed in your anticipation

“Anyway, your dramatic ass can hop in the shower. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

“Shuri—“

She plopped her earphones in, purposely making a statement that she did not want to hear you any longer. You rolled your eyes, defeated by her arrogance and her inability to understand your dilemma and you let yourself be defeated, for now, because Shuri did not train a quitter.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You indulged in a refreshing, cool shower, allowing the water to soothe you weary body, intentionally prolonging your stay to avoid Shuri and her antics. You didn’t want to hear from her anymore.

You stepped out of the shower, efficiently drying yourself off as you lathered your brown skin in your favorite body lotion. You slipped on a pair of black leggings, one that accentuated your toned ass and you couldn’t help but appreciate yourself in the mirror before putting on your gray hoodie. You gathered your things, preparing to give Shuri your final words of gratitude but Shuri, however, had a different agenda in store.

“Oh shit…you scared me,” you say, startled by her presence you didn’t expect to see so soon.

She was leaning her body against the red lockers that encircled the room, her hair still slightly damp from her earlier shower. You swallowed harshly at the sight, almost intimidated by her demeanour that seemed to surpass any power she had over you, even as your coach. She gracefully lifted herself off the lockers with a push of her upper body, making her way towards you; the sight causing a flutter of unease to stir in your stomach.

“Shuri, please…I’m not play-”

“Sshhhh,” she whispered, her body wavered over yours. She was fairly taller than you were, and her assertive presence only added to her height, making it seem like she towered over you. In a gentle, almost affectionate manner, she pushed your body against the wall, causing you to drop your bag to the floor in surprise. Her unexpected action caught you off guard, yet she effortlessly made it feel as if this was a familiar part of your routine, weaving seamlessly into the fabric of your interactions. Her eyes remained on yours, making sure you were okay with this, hungry for it as much as she was.

“You’re scared of me, aren’t you?,” her voice was modulated, a pleasant sound that began to pierce through your skin. You said nothing, unable to bring words together to form a rational sentence. “You’re scared of the way I make you feel.”

“Shuri…”

“Ssshhh, baby. Just…please.” She inhaled deeply, practicing self-control as your eyes provoked her. Her lips lingered right above yours and you took no time to close the gap, catching you both off guard as your lips collided. She effortlessly complied, her hands gripping your hips as she started to place slow, deliberate kisses along your neck. Overwhelmed by the sensation, you instinctively grasped her curls, guiding her to that exquisite sweet spot that elicited a moan from deep within you; an unexpected sound that flushed you with a mix of arousal and embarrassment.

“Do that again.”

“Mmm.”

“Yeah…yeah I like that.” Her palm begins to trace down your torso, her lips still plunging kisses into your neck. She paused just above your pussy, making your grasp on her curls tighten. She took her lips off your neck, coming back to face eyes that drowned in a pathetic sense of desperation. You were frantic, needy for her touch and Shuri grew smug at the sight of you.

“May I?”

You nodded so quickly, ashamed of how easy and open you were for her. Shuri smirked, proud of the hold she had on you. She slipped her fingers under your leggings, coming head on with the mess she created in between your thighs. You unintentionally bucked your hips forward in dire need, causing her fingers to graze your clit over the material of your panties and you gasped at the feel of it. Once again, Shuri smiled and did not hesitate to begin playing with your agonized, wet cunt.

“Oh my god Shuri.”

She ignored you, slipping her fingers up and down your slit, your clit nerves pounding underneath her mocking touch. Your knees weakened, struggling to maintain your balance as her gentle touch rendered your body delicate and vulnerable. The pleasure coursing through you compelled your face to surrender, submitting to the waves of ecstasy coursing through your pussy. Shuri teased your hole, slipping the tip of two fingers inside, making sure you were ok to proceed and you nodded hectically. She dipped her fingers into you, her eyebrows creased together at the feel of your fleshy walls. You were snug, your pussy promptly clenched around her, aching to keep her in there.

“Damn, y/n. You’re tight, huh?”

“Mmm, yeah.”

“How does that feel, baby?”

As you parted your lips to respond, an involuntary, feeble moan slipped from your throat before any words could form. Tears welled up in your eyes as she intensified her movements, causing your lashes to glisten with the arousal emanating from the fiery friction between your thighs. Shuri's dissatisfaction was evident; she wanted to hear you, hear it come from your mouth on how good she felt inside you. She gently grabbed your throat, applying just enough pressure that compelled you to surrender completely.

“It feels good, Shuri. I…fuck.”

She curled her fingers, angling them perfectly to hit the spot you needed most.

“Right there?”

“Yeah.”

She thrashed into your delicate spot a few more times before removing her fingers completely, cleaning your pleasure off her fingers with the swish of her tongue. You whimpered in a pitiful manner, your eyes producing tears for how much you needed her.

“Why’d you stop?,” you pouted.

Shuri rolled her eyes. “You’re annoying.”

“But..please…please Shuri.”

Once again, she seized hold of your throat, drawing your face nearer to hers as fervent moan escaped your lips.

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

You shut your eyes, completely under her control as she watched the way you yearned for her.

“I don’t want you with anyone else.”

She let go of her grasp on your throat, bringing you back onto the wall behind you. Shuri dropped to her knees, removing your leggings and panties completely and you winced at the cool air that grazed your exposed lower body. Shuri lifted one of your legs over her shoulder, leaving you open to her devour, and you were incapable of doing anything in the matter. She wasted no time, taking your sensitive clit into her mouth forcing you to groan in pleasure.

“Yeah, right there. Just right there. Don’t stop.”

She felt euphoric, the way her tongue swirled around you made your heap of nerves pulsate heavily, sending waves of pleasure throughout your pussy.

“I’m so close, Shuri. Fuck. YEAH.”

She removed her tongue, coming back up to face you as she proceeded to push her fingers into you. She pumped hard, leaving no room to take it easy on you. You mirror her movements, riding her as you feel that warm, tingling feeling coursing through your pussy walls.

“You wanna cum, baby?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm.”

“Well don’t.”

You moaned pitifully, holding your orgasm as Shuri dragged her fingers in and out of you. Every push became more painful as you struggled to delay your release. It was a mixture of torment and thrill as she edged your throbbing pussy. She could tell you could not take it anymore, your orgasm was just above her reach and she pulled out immediately, giving you nothing but a wave of suffering. You whined pitifully, your aching cunt screaming at you in desperation as you watched Shuri lick whatever pleasure you gave her. The ghost of your halted orgasm lingered inside you, creating the most vivid concoction of pain and pleasure.

“It hurts,” you whined, tears staining your saddened face.

“I know baby, I know.” She brushed your box braids that fell down your face, wiping your tears as she smirked at the picture she created. “I just wanna make sure you come back to me.”

You pouted in urgent need of her. You didn’t want to wait. You wanted her now. You almost wanted to finger your own pussy to ease your pain, but you knew she wouldn’t allow it.

She possessed a well-crafted strategy, one that proved to be remarkably effective. She planted a final kiss on your forehead, releasing you from her grip as she helped you put your clothes back on and gather your things. She offered you a ride home, but you decided that it would be better for your sanity to take an uber. She didn’t argue with you, allowing you this time to yourself as you contemplated your decision to leave her. You remembered her words, and the possessiveness of her touch; it was overwhelming as she made it much more complicated to stand your ground.

“See you tomorrow?,” she asked, her eyes laced in desperate arousal.

You nodded. “Yeah…I’ll see you.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Three and a half weeks had gone by, each second brang an agonizing twist in your stomach as you fought the urge to run back to Shuri. Truthfully, you were surprised you held on this long, you were doing so well. You did a few boxing lessons with a new coach, and she was good enough to get the training done; but everyday you boxed opponents that lived in your head, forcing punches in the ring that surrounded your mind. And it was that day, the day that curiosity got the best of you, emerging victorious in the hidden match that tugged at your brain as you found yourself back where you started.

Outside the gym, you lingered discreetly, observing her in silent contemplation as she vented her frustrations on the punching bag. The reluctance to reenter the premises after your abrupt departure weighed heavily on your conscience, evoking a wave of guilt that got stuck in your throat, making it hard for you to swallow. Shuri persistently unleashed blows upon the bag, oblivious to your watchful gaze through the gym windows. She was wearing a black hoodie, the hood partially resting on her head as her curls peered through. Her baggy sweats and gold chain added to her allure, making it even harder to face her because you were afraid to give into how incredibly good she looked. Her face remained stern, fully absorbed in channeling her anger with every forceful swing. The rhythmic motion caused her gold chain to sway in sync, while her curls glistened with moisture from the perspiration cascading down her forehead. Inhaling deeply, you steeled yourself, readying your mind and body for whatever lay ahead. You tapped on the window, hoping it was loud enough to get her attention in the midst of her obvious frustration. She cast a discerning glance in your direction, punctuating her punches with a few final strikes before walking towards the locked door. As she swung it open, her figure occupied the threshold, leaving no space for you to enter.

“Can I help you?” Her anger was transparent, her tone dripping with passive-aggressiveness, and you acknowledged that she had every reason to feel that way.

“I just came by to say hi.”

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Is that it?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok cool, bye.” She made an abrupt motion, attempting to slam the door in your face, but your well-honed reflexes, that she taught you, came into play as you swiftly intervened, preventing the door from closing.

“Wait Shuri…please. Can I come in?”

Shuri sighed heavily, rolling her eyes as she obliged to your request.

She resumed her single boxing session, throwing blows you knew would knock someone out had it been a person instead of a punching bag. You stood uncomfortably on the sidelines, waiting for the right moment to interject and provide her with the explanation you believed she deserved. She persisted in her actions for a few more moments until a rush of calm began to wash over her body. Gradually, the frustration etched on her face began to dissipate, not entirely, but enough to instill a surge of confidence within you that she would be willing to hear what you had to say. She took off her gloves, manspreading on the chair as she unwrapped the bloody cloth that hugged her knuckles.

“Shuri?’

“Hm?”

“I need…fuck. I got to talk to you.”

“There isn’t much to say, y/n. You made your point pretty clear.”

“Actually, I didn’t say enough.”

“Y/n please. I heard you. I heard you loud and clear. You don’t wanna see me and I don’t wanna see you. That’s all I need to know.”

“It wasn’t that simple, Shuri,” you defend yourself.

“You literally just left with no explanation. It’s pretty simple.”

“Well I’m here now, aren’t I??”

“I don’t care. You can go back from wherever the hell you came from.”

“Shuri-”

“What??”

You let out a heavy sigh, creeping your body closer to hers. A mere couple of feet separated you, and you found yourself absorbing her dark gaze as she waited for you to speak. Sweat trickled down her furrowed brows, her face covered in a hostile glare as her jaw clenched in impatience. She was upset. Angry. Hurt that you would leave so abruptly after she worked diligently to make you the skilled boxer you were today.

“I’ve been seeing a new coach. She’s great. Helping me out and shit--”

“Go fuck her then.”

“What? Fuck, let me finish my sentence. You’re being fucking dramatic as hell.”

“Nah, you know what’s dramatic? Fucking crying while being fingered. I didn’t even give you dick.”

Her words caught you off guard, leaving you momentarily disoriented and struggling to recall what you had to say. Shuri thrived on being in control, whether it was in physical confrontations or verbal debates. She possessed an unwavering determination to emerge as the victor, using her skills to secure her position. But this time, you felt she wasn’t playing fair; she had no interest in hearing what you had to say.

“You gonna let me fucking talk now or what?,” you asked abruptly in an attempt to gain control of the argument. Shuri rolled her eyes, tired of hearing you speak but knew you weren’t going anywhere until she let you.

“What I was trying to say, before you rudely cut me off, is I was seeing this trainer and she’s real good and all, she’s been really helpful and shit…but…”

“But…?”

You exhaled deeply, expressing both frustration and weariness as you moved your body towards her. You stood in between her manspread legs, tenderly tracing the contours of her chiseled face which bore faint bruises from her recent boxing match. She lightly winced once your gentle touch came into contact with a fresh bruise that marked her left cheek.

“What happened here? This wasn’t here the last time I saw you.”

“I’m a boxer y/n…shit happens.”

You crouched down to meet her eye level, coming face to face with a defeated Shuri. She looked exhausted, the complete opposite from her usual champion state.

“Listen Shuri. I’m back here because I realized I fucked up, and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

She leaned into your touch, placing her tender cheek into your palm and you swear you could exhale in relief at the gesture.

“If I’m being completely honest, I was so scared you were going to get caught up in the thrill of it all and forget me,” you stupidly admit. “And I know how stupid that sounds, but I can’t help that that’s how I was feeling. It’s ridiculous, I know. I’m sorry.”

Shuri took your hands, holding them in her own as she placed kisses on your knuckles. A subtle smile appeared on her face right before you playfully tugged one of her curls just to watch it spring back up. You both softly laughed at the gesture, relieving the palpable tension that invaded the room. This was the most gentle you’ve ever seen her, the complete opposite of the tenacious facade she wears in the boxing ring. At last, her lips met yours, momentarily tricking you into believing it was her way of granting forgiveness, only to shatter that illusion with 7 simple words.

“Show me how sorry you are, yeah?”

You nodded, brought back into your compliant state as Shuri’s body language brought back her need for dominance. Rising to her feet, her sculpted physique loomed over you as she proceeded towards the central boxing ring in the gym. You trailed after her like a trainee would, captivated by the prospect of what lesson your coach had in store for you.

"Step into the ring," she commanded, gesturing with a nod of her head. Without hesitation, you complied, entering the boxing ring effortlessly.

“Shuri, what’s happen--”

“Shut up. Take off your clothes. I wanna see you.”

Caught off guard, you cautiously heeded her words, sensing her fervor and determination to finish what she started 3 and a half weeks ago, and there was nothing but an equal eagerness burning inside you. You did as she said, subtly cringing at the cool air as you were left in nothing but your pale blue undergarments. Shuri rested herself against the edge of the ring, her arms crossed on the ledge as she eyed your body. You grew embarrassed as you noticed her wandering eyes come to a halt at the damp spot that developed between your thighs, staining your brand new pair of panties you had just bought.

“I didn’t even touch you, baby,” she teased and you could feel the warmth rise to your face. “Sit down y/n, get comfortable. Spread your legs, I wanna see everything.”

Again, you listen to her without hesitation. You sat down, opening up your legs for her to see. You pulled the fabric to the side, exposing your soaking pussy to her greedy gaze.

“Yeah. You’re gonna have to take those off.”

You do.

“Play with yourself.”

“What? But I want you to do it,” you sulked.

“Hey, who’s the coach here? Me or you?”

“You.”

“Then I don’t wanna hear it. Do as I say, and play with yourself. Show me how fucking sorry you are.”

You nodded, wanting to get this over with so she could get in the ring with you and finish you off herself. You took your fingers, wetting them with your saliva before you began rubbing your clit. You pushed with a subtle aggression into your bundle of nerves, causing your jaw to drop as you bashfully moaned Shuri’s name.

“Shuri.”

A malignant smile appeared on her face, your moans boosting her ego as she dwelled in the effect she had on your body without having to lay a finger on you. The lustful yearning in her eyes grew stronger, as you began thrusting your fingers into your soaking hole. You felt the way your walls expanded, contracting your pussy walls with each reckless plunge.

“Oh my god, Shuri. Yes, Shuri. Just like that. UNH.”

“Damn, it’s really like that? I’m not even touching you.”

You looked down at yourself, entranced with the sight of how your pussy swallowed your fingers with ease. Shuri’s touch remained absent from your body, but your vivid imagination painted pictures you yearned for; pictures of tattooed digits sucked deep into your creamy pussy.

“It should be me watching you in the ring more often. You up for that?”

“Shuri,” you moaned once more, becoming less and less embarrassed with how smoothly her name fell off your immoral lips.

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?,” she provokes, arrogance plastered on her face without shame.

“I’m…I’m so close. So fucking close.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok, hold on.”

“Huh?”

Shuri entered the ring, gracefully slipping under the flexible rope. She rolled the sleeves of her black hoodie up to her elbows, exposing her tattooed forearms and you almost moaned at the sight. She sat beside you, looking you dead in the eye as you continued to frolic with your aching pussy. You were on the verge of climax, so close to experiencing release, when Shuri abruptly seized your wrist, preventing you from finishing yourself off. A mixture of anguish and longing escaped your lips as Shuri once again denied you the pleasure you craved.

“Why do you keep doing that?,” you cried. You looked pathetic and Shuri reveled in the sight of you.

Shuri remained silent, opting instead to lie down on her back, lifting her hoodie to expose her impeccably sculpted abs and the hint of her Nike boxers that peeked out from her gray sweatpants. The tattoos that trailed down both sides of her torso created a pulse you felt in your cunt as you admired how etched she was.

“Sit…right here,” she ordered, patting her abs to motion you over. You obeyed, straddling her as you felt your bare pussy come in contact with her body. She grabbed your hips, pressing you harshly into her abs as she maneuvered your body to grind against her. Her defined torso grazed your puffy clit and you moaned instantly.

“Aw baby,” she taunts, pressing you down again. “Are we that needy?”

The feeling of her was euphoric, transcending any touch you’ve ever been given. You surrendered to her touch, reveling in the sensation as she pressed against you, utilizing the strength of her abdominal muscles to apply more pressure. Your clit rubs aggressively against her, sparking a fire of pleasure into the nerves that surround it. Your pussy muscles tightened at the way she felt and your body almost gave out.

“Shuri, holy fuck. This feels so good. This feels--shit Shuri. Unh. UNH.”

Your body started to lose its precision, your limbs growing numb as every physical sensation your body had to offer was pushed into your throbbing clit.

“I can’t. I can’t.”

“You can. And you fucking will.” She pushes you harder onto her, flexing her abs to increase the pressure and you could do nothing but accept that she wasn’t letting you go; not from the ring, nor from her grip, and certainly not as her favorite protégé. Your slick glistened, creating a glossy sheen on her dark skin, coating her abs as you moaned in desperation.

“Fuck…fuck Shuri. Fuck, I can’t.”

“Yes you fucking can, I didn’t train you to be a quitter, did I?”

“Unh. Mmmm. Fuck.”

She contracted her abs once more, generating a tantalizing sensation that penetrated deeply into your clit, blending pain and pleasure.

“Did I?,” she repeats.

“N--no.”

“Then shut the fuck up and stop complaining, baby.”

You lowered your upper body to grab Shuri’s throat, using her neck as a support, swiftly seizing control of the situation and catching Shuri completely off guard. Determined to dominate, you intensified the grinding motion against her, urging yourself further into her. As Shuri withdrew her hands from your hips, you continued to rock with an increased intensity; the sight of Shuri struggling with your hands gripping her throat ignited a wild frenzy into your senses.

“Shit y/n. Damn…shit.” Her breaths became staggered as she grabbed your wrists in hopes to remove herself from your tight grasp, but you didn’t budge.

“You’re crazy.” A smirk crept onto your lips as you observed her struggle for something as basic as oxygen. Your pussy clenched, overwhelmed at the sight of her.

“Shit Shuri, I’m so close..I--”

But she overpowered you, swiftly separating you from her body, and a sigh of defeat escaped your lips once again. Shuri proved to be cunning, toying with you as a form of punishment for your abrupt departure without a single word.

“Stop doing that shit, it hurts,” you complained. Shuri stood up, watching the tears fall from your eyes from both the pleasure and pain of your denied orgasm. She reached down to grab your throat, lifting you from the ground to meet her tall stance.

“You complain too fucking much.”

“Mm,” you moaned, grabbing her wrist as she lifted you a little more. You were on your tippy toes, gasping for air as she tightened her grasp around your windpipe.

“Don’t fight it, baby. Just let it happen.”

She took 2 digits, wetting them with your juices before slipping them inside you. She held her hand still as you began to grind down as your body's response to a lack of oxygen.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” You couldn't respond as your lungs were fighting to catch a glimpse of air. Truth be told, you were enjoying every second of it.

“I know you do. Your pussy shows it.” With each subtle squeeze, your cunt clenched in response, hugging her fingers that remained deep into you.

“Just a little more,” she whispered, tightening her grip as you squirmed beneath her. Even on your tippy toes, she was slightly taller than you were. You opened your mouth wider in an attempt to gain oxygen but instead a strangled sob came from the back of your throat as you could do nothing but choke for the woman in front of you. Drool fell off your tongue as you began to suffer beneath her tight grasp, and Shuri chuckled in amusement, reveling in the sight of your distress. “You look fucking sexy when you struggle.”

She maintained her hold for a few more moments until she felt you couldn’t take it any longer, letting you go as you collapsed into her arms. Your breathing was labored as you tenderly massaged your throat. Shuri held you close, planting gentle kisses on top of your head while tenderly running her fingers through your box braids. But the act of softness diminished quickly as she tugged on your braids, forcing your eyes back onto hers.

“You still wanna cum, baby?”

More than you ever wanted anything in your life.

You helplessly nodded, willing to do anything to soothe the pleasure that was locked in between your legs.

“You’re really fucking needy.”

“Shuri please,” you begged.

“It’s ok baby, I'm right here. Here, rest against these,” she softly demanded, holding onto the red rope that surrounded the ring. She sat in front of you, unclipping your bra to leave you completely bare for her satisfaction. She wasted no time opening your wet folds, playing with your glistening slit and it’s clearly driving you insane. You were crying, desperately begging for her to finish you off. She avoided your clit, wanting to watch you writhe beneath her touch and a pitiful groan escaped your lips as she inched closer to where you needed her most.

“Aw, poor angel. You need me to take care of you so badly.” Her words were torture, her touch even more so. She took the tips of her index and middle fingers, swirling them just enough inside your hole to drive you into madness. She was so close, yet frustratingly distant from where you yearned for her to be. She brushed aside the braids that obscured your face, perspiration clinging to your skin. Deliberately, she probed deeper with her fingers, eagerly anticipating the reaction your body would offer. You arched against the unsteady rope, utilizing it as leverage while gripping onto the material tightly, your knuckles losing color as you gripped aggressively. Your legs opened wider for the woman in front of you, and she took this as a signal to use you for her consumption. Her forceful strokes were merciless, each thrust in and out compelling you to clench even tighter around her. The desire to keep her inside, to retain her presence until you unleashed your release upon her, consumed you.

“Holy shit, holy fuck Shuri. That feels fucking amazing. You’re doing so--shit.” You began thrusting your hips to match her tempo, allowing her fingers to fall deep into you.

“Pushing against my fingers already?,” she teased. She grabbed your throat once more, bringing your ear to her sultry lips. “That’s fucking pathetic.”

You clasped both your hands around her wrist as a means for stability, driving your hips toward her with aggression; your back falling into the red rope, etching into your sensitive skin.

“You look good like this…my hand around your throat.”

“Unh.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“UNH.”

“Damn, you’re really enjoying this, huh?”

“Mmm, fuuuuck.”

The squelch of your drenched cunt echoed through the gym as you consumed every shove Shuri knocked into you. You felt your release approaching, characterized by rhythmic muscle contractions overtaking your twitching body. Your pussy walls pulsate against her and Shuri could feel you.

“You still sorry, y/n?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought.”

She let go of your throat, bringing her hand down your body until she came in contact with your clit. She rubbed you just enough to send your nerves into a frenzy as her other hand continued fingering your pussy walls. You were approaching your limit, unable to bear it any longer. Every sensation surging through your entire being provoked you to the brink of exhaustion and you absolutely needed to cum.

“Shuri?”

“Yes, baby?”

“I gotta..fuck. UNH. I need to cum, please.”

“No.”

“But…it feels so good, too fucking good, oh my goodd.”

“I don’t care how good it feels. You’re not cumming.”

The sensation of your denied pleasure created waves of desire swimming through your veins. Your body began to respond by producing more slick, oozing intensely onto Shuri’s wrist. The blood flow in your pussy increased, heightening the sensitivity in your clit that Shuri was rubbing vigorously. There were numerous reasons Shuri was edging you to insanity; of course she wanted to enhance your impending orgasm but she also wanted to remind you who was in charge, remind you of the power dynamic that always has and always will be between the two of you.

“You wanna cum, y/n?”

“YES.”

“Are you sorry for leaving me?”

“Yeah, oh my god!”

“You gonna stay with me, baby?”

“Mhmmm, yeah. YEAH.”

“That’s cute.”

“Shuri…fuck. PLEASE.”

She pumped a few more times.

“You gonna come to my match next week, princess?”

“Yeah…I’ll come to your fucking match Shuri. SHIT. UNH.”

“That’s what I fucking thought.”

She shoved her fingers into a few more times, bringing her free hand back up to your throat. You whimpered and cried for her, you have never felt a need so heavy in your entire life.

“You did so well for me, y/n. You can cum now, my girl. Let it ou--”

“UNH, FUCK. UNNHHH YEAH. FUCK SHURI, FUCK. YES.”

You cried out in ecstasy, lingering in every throb that your pussy gave you. The pleasure was excruciating, forcing your body to shake uncontrollably against the rope behind you. Your nerves around your clit intensely tingled through your orgasm, only adding to the warm sensation coursing between your legs.

“Oh my god Shuri, holy fuck. YEAH.”

Every orgasm Shuri denied you came back tenfold and you felt it everywhere; a powerful, wave-like sensation that started in your beating cunt and radiated outwards to the rest of your body. Your release was explosive, spraying Shuri as you wiggled and writhed in front of her. Your heart rate increased as you moaned in your well-deserved satisfaction. Shuri praised your body with kisses, allowing you this moment of pure bliss she knew you worked hard for.

“You’re so fucking wet baby, give it all to me.”

“Shuri? Fuck.”

“You still cumming, baby?”

“Yeah…it won’t stop. It’s not stopping.”

“Just feel it, princess. Let it all happen. You deserve it.”

“Mmh, UNH.”

After what felt like an eternity, your body gradually eased back into a state of calm, reconnecting with your surroundings. You went limp, collapsing into Shuri's comforting embrace as she tenderly caressed your brown skin.

“You’re incredible, y/n.”

You nodded, teetering on the edge of sleep in her tender embrace. Sensing your exhaustion, Shuri assisted you in getting dressed again. She gathered your box braids and secured them in a ponytail, giving your face the rest it needed after what she put you through.

“You’re so beautiful, y/n, have I ever told you that?”

“Hmm?”

Shuri smiled.

“Never mind baby. I’ll see you next week?”

“Yeah.”

She plants a kiss on your forehead. “Cool.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Before Shuri was scheduled to enter the ring, you went into her locker room mere minutes prior. She was already dressed in her boxing outfit, donning a robe that emphasized her status as the "Panther" champion. Your intention was to offer words of support until you unexpectedly found yourself swiftly hoisted and pressed against the wall, while Shuri's strap loomed inches into you. Aware that someone might be lurking outside, awaiting the arrival of the boxing champion, both of you attempted to maintain minimal noise, but doing so was damn near impossible.

“UNH.”

“Yeah, it’s like that baby? It feels like that?”

“Yeah…I…fuck.”

The intensity of your moans escalated beyond your control, potentially audible to any curious ears lingering outside the door. Shuri found herself needing to clamp your mouth with her hand, reducing the volume of your moans to a muffled sound against her palm. As the pleasure surged through you, your eyes rolled backwards, your saliva escaped your mouth and dripped onto Shuri's hand all while she thrusted with powerful determination.

Your pussy walls began to dilate, squeezing her pulsating strap and Shuri could feel it all. She felt every throb, and she pushed every pounding ache you gave her right back into you, fucking you into oblivion. Shuri knew her clock was ticking, the crowd roaring her name in the distance as you moaned her name into her palm.

“Panther,” you moaned into her skin, using her boxing title that drove Shuri insane. “You’re so fucking big.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Uh huh.”

“Look at you…you’re helpless.”

“I wanna cum,” you wined, your lips still pressed into Shuri’s flesh.

“I know baby,” she replied, her voice was smooth. “I can feel it.”

Every single moment spent with Shuri from the past year with her; every lesson, every match, every drive back home, came flooding back to you at this very moment. You were so overcome by the power of Shuri, completely submerged in the way she made you feel both physically and emotionally. You tried to hold your tongue, stop yourself from saying words you didn’t mean, but irrational thinking won against you, compelling you to say the words you probably shouldn’t.

“Shuri?”

She removed her hand from your mouth, leaving you open for anyone to hear.

“Yes, princess?”

“I….unh. I love you.” Tears fell from your eyes in both emotional and physical pleasure, your orgasm paving way into your pussy, itching to be liberated.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Say it again.”

“I love you Shuri, I love you.”

“Well I love this tight pussy.”

“Fuck…oh my god. Oh my fucking god. I’m gonna cum.”

“Go ahead, y/n. You’re such a good girl. My good fucking girl.”

You unleashed a primal scream, not a care in the world for the crowd calling Shuri’s name in the distance because the only mouth that mattered to Shuri’s right now was yours. You cursed and whimpered as the boxing champion started to withdraw, reinserting the now lubricated strap back into her boxers and shorts. Once again, you were a wreck.

“Pull yourself together, baby. I’ll see you out there, yeah?”

“Mhmmm.”

She cupped your face, gently kissing you on the forehead.

“Good girl.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Watching Shuri as a boxing champion in the ring will always be one of your top favorite sites to see. It was a captivating experience; from the moment she stepped into the squared arena, an aura of confidence and determination surrounded her. Her presence alone commands attention, and the atmosphere becomes charged with anticipation.

With each move, Shuri displays a perfect blend of agility, strength, and technique. Her footwork is swift and precise, allowing her to effortlessly dodge and weave around her opponents' attacks. Her punches are delivered with a combination of speed and power, landing with precision and impact. She analyzed her opponents weaknesses, using them against them and this was a technique you now knew all too well about.

The crowd roars with excitement as Shuri engages in thrilling exchanges, showcasing her defensive skills by slipping punches and countering with calculated strikes. She exudes a level of grace and finesse that holds a place in your heavy mind.

The energy in the arena becomes electric as Shuri unleashes her signature moves, giving a final blow to her opponent that made her champion of the match.

“Panther! Panther! Panther!”

You clapped like a love-sick fool, proud of the woman that bathed in the crowd's roar. The arena erupted in thunderous applause, acknowledging her as a true boxing champion: The Panther. Shuri basked in her praise for a while, right before she made her way out of the ring to come face you. For a split moment, all eyes were focused on you as you momentarily stole the spotlight from the champion standing in front of you. You were surprised by her unexpected gesture as she brought you in for a kiss for hundreds to see. The crowd cheered you on, applauding the loving gesture you two shared that displayed on the jumbo screen above the ring. Shuri gently parted her lips from yours, and in that fleeting instant, the surrounding crowd seemed to fade into silence, as if the entire room emptied out, leaving just the two of you intertwined. You were overwhelmingly proud of her, on the brink of tears as she smiled at you.

“I love you,” she confessed, loud enough for only your ears to hear as the audience continued their Panther praise.

“Panther! Panther! Panther!”

“I love you,” she reiterated, holding you one last time before she made her way back into the boxing ring. ❁ཻུ۪۪♡

[subira-stan]

Reth Dancing Head canon:

Reth’s mom taught him to dance when he was a little kid. He used to dance with her whenever she had the energy for it.

After they died, Reth tried to remember all of the dances that his mom taught him… but they faded as time went on. He wanted to teach Tish, but she was usually too weak to do it on her own. When she was still little, he’d let her stand on his feet and help hold her steady while he twirled her around to the music.

Since they moved to Kilima, she occasionally drags him out and they’ll dance together. But he’s usually too busy with work.

He kinda dances around the kitchen when he’s really in a groove with cooking.

[cheynovak]

The Beach City Reunion

Summary: Follows up fanfiction 'Spikes' Y/N returns to the beach city grill after 5 years. Meeting Priestly who has been going through a break up with Tish.

Warning: none

English isn't my first language

Please do not copy my work. Likes/Share/Comments are appreciated.

Y/N hadn’t set foot in Beach City Grill in five years. The place looked mostly the same—faded posters of bands on the walls, the familiar hum of music in the background, and the faint smell of fries and grilled burgers wafting through the air. But as she walked in, scanning for any trace of the old Priestly, her eyes caught on someone who almost looked like him… but not quite.

He was wearing a plain blue button-down shirt, his once vibrant, spiked hair now a subdued shade of brown with a matching beard, smoothed down to an almost painfully ordinary style. She blinked, wondering if she was imagining things.

“Priestly?!” she called out, half-questioning, half in disbelief.

He turned, and when he saw her, his face lit up like a firework. Before she could react, he was around the counter, pulling her into a warm hug.

“Y/N!” he said, grinning. “Wow, look at you! You’ve… changed!” She laughed, pulling back to look at him. “Me? Look at you! W-what happened?”

They slipped into one of the booths, and for a moment, Y/N couldn’t stop staring. She missed the wild, bold Priestly she’d once adored, and this version of him looked like he’d been smothered in beige.

He gave her a sheepish look, glancing down at his shirt. “Tish happened. She, uh, liked me better like this. Thought I should look ‘respectable’—whatever that means. I guess she thought I was only worth dating if I, well, dressed ‘normal.’ So I tried it for her, figured it was worth it if it made her happy.”

Y/N listened quietly, seeing a flicker of embarrassment and something else—something lost—in his eyes.

“Anyway,” he continued, rubbing the back of his neck, “we broke things off a couple of months ago. She said I’d come back ‘begging for another chance,’ but… I don’t think that’s gonna happen. I realized I just don’t know who I am anymore. Lost myself somewhere along the way.”

She nodded, giving him a small, understanding smile. “Sometimes, you think someone’s worth changing for. But if it means you stop being you…” She trailed off, knowing he’d get it.

Priestly chuckled, a hint of his old spark showing through. “Yeah, funny to hear that coming from you."

She grinned, and he noticed a faint edge of her old punk style still shining through—rings on her fingers, a subtle black eyeliner that gave her an edge, But the spiked choker was gone and changed for a leather jacket.

“So,” he said, leaning in with a warm smile, “what about you? How’s life been since you flew the coop?”

She shrugged, feeling a mix of nostalgia and excitement bubble up. “A lot’s changed. I went to college, didn't finish, moved around a bit. I’ve grown up, well a little. Showed up at your doorstep.”

Priestly gave her a look—one of admiration, maybe even a touch of envy. “I’m glad you came back. You look good, Y/N. Like… like you didn’t lose yourself along the way, you grew, literally and figuratively, I like it.”

She felt her cheeks heat, but she kept her gaze steady. “Priestly, the guy who always makes a girl feel special." She smiles softly before adding, "I aways thought you were amazing just the way you were.”

His eyes softened, and for the first time in a long time, he looked like he believed her.

“Maybe it’s time to bring a little of that guy back,” he said, giving her a lopsided grin. “The boring brown hair and button-downs were never really me anyway.”

They both laughed, the sound filling the grill as if nothing had changed at all. And as they sat there, catching up and reconnecting, Priestly felt like he was finally waking up from a long, colorless dream.

Y/N could feel Tish’s glare burning into them as she leaned across the counter to pay, with a mischievous smile. “Why don’t I take you shopping after your shift?” she suggested, tapping her fingers playfully on the countertop. “It’d be nice to catch up… and maybe ditch the corporate look. Show a little more of those tattoos again?”

Priestly glanced at Tish, who was shooting them daggers from across the room, and then shrugged with a little smile. “Yeah, yeah, why not?” he replied, his eyes lighting up. “I’ll see you at five.”

By the time they hit the first store, Y/N was buzzing with excitement. She dragged Priestly to every section, picking out things that she knew he would’ve rocked a few years back. A leather jacket here, a pair of torn jeans there. She even managed to dig up a kilt, holding it out with a grin that made him snort.

“Y/N,” he said, chuckling as he held the kilt up in disbelief, “I can’t wear this. Not anymore. I feel like a kid playing dress-up.”

Y/N’s grin softened. “You’re in your thirties, Priestly. Maybe a kilt isn’t the answer anymore,” she admitted, leaning against the wall of the dressing room. She looked at him thoughtfully, eyes gleaming with an idea. “But… do you trust me?”

He raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Alright. Go ahead, show me what you’ve got.”

Y/N set the kilt aside and walked over to a different rack, pulling out a pair of dark, well-fitted jeans and handing him a plain grey t-shirt. She added a pair of heavy black combat boots and a leather jacket to the ensemble. “Just try these,” she said, “I think you’ll be surprised.”

Priestly emerged from the dressing room a few minutes later, his expression shifting from skepticism to something closer to acceptance. He turned to her, hands stuffed in his pockets, giving her a shy, crooked grin. “Not bad, right?”

“Oh wow, not bad at all,” Y/N said, giving him a once-over feeling her cheeks burn. The jeans hugged his frame well, and the boots added a sturdy, rugged vibe. The t-shirt was simple, but it all brought back a hint of the old Priestly’s edge without trying too hard.

But she wasn’t done yet. “Alright,” she said with a wink, “one last stop.”

She drove him to a nearby barber she’d found online, and before he could protest, she leaned close, whispering her instructions into the barber’s ear.

"Oh and keep the beard." she said walking back outside. Priestly gave her a mock look of fear, but he settled into the chair, trusting her, despite his nerves.

A half hour later, Priestly emerged from the barber’s chair with his hair freshly styled. The sides were clipped short, but the top was left a little longer and tousled. No more mohawk, but it was still a look with personality—classic yet cool, modern but still a bit rebellious.

He caught his reflection in the mirror, running a hand through his hair, and let out a slow breath.

--

Y/N's heart hammered as she watched Priestly walk toward her, his new look transforming him into a vision of the guy she’d fallen for as a teenager—familiar but grown up, rugged and effortlessly cool. She felt her old crush flare to life, burning through her like it had all those years ago. But now, she was older, and so was he, and the spark between them didn’t feel so impossible anymore.

While he’d been getting his hair cut, she’d slipped out to pick up a few finishing touches—things that would bring back a hint of the punk style they’d once shared. As he approached, she held out a heavy, silver chain and a studded leather belt. With a grin, she hooked the chain to his jeans, her fingers brushing against him as she added the belt.

But then, she pulled out something else—a small, worn leather bracelet with faded band logos, the same one he’d given her years ago in the Beach City Grill. She held it up, a little shy but determined, and carefully slipped it back onto his wrist, fingers lingering on the familiar worn leather.

Priestly looked down, his eyes widening. “You… you kept it?” His voice was soft, filled with something she couldn’t quite name.

Y/N nodded, feeling her cheeks heat as she looked up, meeting his gaze. “Of course I did. You were... well, it was special to me.” she said almost looking nervous.

Priestly looked at her, "How old are you now?" She still looked at him, his green eyes piercing her waiting for an answer. "I- Eh... 21." Priestly looked over her in the distance, clearly counting in his head.

They stood there in silence, the air thick while she waited for his reaction, still holding his wrist in her hands, feeling something electric. Her heart pounded so loudly she thought he must be able to hear it.

But before her nerves could make her say something stupid, Priestly reached out, cupping the back of her head, his fingers threading through her hair pulling her closer.

He leaned down, his gaze searching hers for a split second, and then his lips brushed against hers, soft and warm, then deeper, like he’d been waiting for this moment as long as she had. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them—two people who’d found their way back to each other after years apart.

Y/N knew that what she had been waiting for ever since she was 16 was finally here. Priestly saw her, not as a teenage girl with a crush. But as a woman.

When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers, still holding her close. "I did say 'maybe in a few years' didn't I?"

She laughed softly, feeling her heart swell.

“Welcome back, Priestly.”

--

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[inkofimagination]

getaway car - hasan piker pt.1

hasan is always by your side to help you after your break ups but something changes.

this is a part 1 of 3 of this mini series:)

hope you enjoy it xx

word count: 1,7k

-

July

To realize that you were going in the wrong direction, it took you a minute. You were on autopilot, with so many things going through your mind, while heading for the old house instead of the new one. 

Trying to keep the tears from coming, you took a deep breath, taking the next side street so you could turn around and head back the right way. Luckily, you hadn’t strayed too far off track. It was second nature to go to Hasans house. He has been your bestfriend since you both were 21 and you both have grown up together in the last decade. Which meant this definitely wasn’t the first time you were headed to his door after a break up. 

When you finally made it to the house, you were for once thankful for all the security cameras. Sometimes it made you feel like you had a thousand eyes on you - but right now, it meant that Hasan no doubt saw your car in the driveway, and he’d greet you at the door like he always did.

He was your person. The one you could go to for absolutely anything, and the person you felt the most comfortable around on the whole planet. And you knew he would be there for you, even if he wasn’t expecting to have to be.

Sure enough, you had barely put your car in park and there he was standing in the doorway holding Kaya back from jumping on you.

“Aye, what’s up y/n! I didn’t know you were coming over!” 

You got out of the car, he took one look at your face and his entire demeanor turned on a dime.

“Hey, hey what’s wrong? What’s goin’ on?” 

You couldn’t really answer - your throat was too tight, and if you tried to say the words you knew the sobs would start immediately. He put Kaya behind the doggy fence and jogged over to you. 

His arm went around your shoulder like they’d done so many times before, and you broke down. He’d seen you like this before, more times than you’d like to admit, so it didn’t phase him much as he guided you inside and to his living room. Once you’d cleared the threshold he closed the door and locked it, and then his arms were around you.

Hasan was comforting smell. You breathed him in, trying to settle yourself. 

One of your favorite things about Hasan was that he didn’t pry. He didn’t need to know every detail, he didn’t need you to get it together right then and fill him in. He held you to his chest, cheek resting on the top of your head, body swaying ever so slightly, and there wasn’t even a hint of pressure. All he wanted to do was make you feel better, however he knew how.

And it worked - there was just something about having him there with you that settled everything, calmed you down. When you started to move back from him, he was already moving to the side and grabbing you a tissue.

“Here, looks like you could use a tish,” he smiled, handing it over so you could blow your nose. “You wanna talk about it?” 

“Well, I got cheated on. So there’s that.” You put it bluntly, a bit surprised at the dry laugh that came out with it. 

Hasan stiffened at your words, and you watched his hands ball into a fist a few times as he took in deep breaths through his nose. You watched him carefully - you knew his tells. And when you saw the vein start to pop on the side of his neck, your heart picked up.

“Hasan-” you cautioned.

“Can I beat his ass? I’d really like to beat his ass into the fucking ground.” He was dead serious, and you knew he could do it too. Of course, he always says he is not a violent person and he is not but when it comes to you – that is off the table, he would do anything to make you feel better.

“As much as I would love that, I’d rather you not be in jail tonight for assault,” you sighed. 

“I’d be sneaky.”

“Hasan.”

“I know I know. But just for the record, I’d very much like to kill him.” He gave you a tight smile, which took so much effort that it made you laugh. It looked pretty similar to any other time you talked to him about Adam. Hasan wasn’t exactly a fan. 

“Alright, c’mon, we’re going for a drive,” Hasan declared, heading over to his closet and grabbing one of his long sleeve shirts. You caught it when he tossed it to you, but that didn’t resolve any of your confusion.

“Your shirts all wet, go change, and then we’ll go,” he explained. You listened, going into his bathroom and closing the door. Sure enough, your shirt was covered in tear stains.

“Okay, but where are we going?” You asked once you’d pulled the material over your head. It smelled like his cologne, and was so large that it covered your shorts and your hands. You tucked it into your waistband so it didn’t dwarf you completely. 

“Well, I know how you get when you’re sad. You haven’t eaten have you?” You opened the door, coming back into the room.

“No.” You admitted - you always lost your appetite when you were upset. 

“That’s what I thought. C’mon,” he walked out of the room, headed for the car. 

You drove, not really caring where you were going, just glad to have something to take your mind off of things. Hasan knew exactly how to take care of you - he’d had to do it more times than you could have ever asked for. And he never complained, never hesitated. He played your favorite songs in the car, singing along at the top of his lungs just to get you to laugh at how bad he sounded. 

30 minutes later you were parked at the beach with your favorite food in hand, absolutely demolishing it - you hadn’t realized you were as hungry as you were. Once the food was gone the two of you headed onto the sand, grabbing a towel from the trunk and spreading it out so you could sit. 

“Do you wanna talk about what happened?” Hasan asked eventually, digging in the sand with his fingers. 

With a sigh, you dove into the story. How you’d come home and Adam‘s laptop had been open on the counter, all the messages and pictures from at least 3 other girls on full display. The way he tried to explain it away at first, and then blame you instead. Talk of how you didn’t spend enough time at home, you never gave him enough attention. He’d also went on and on about how much time you spent with Hasan, but you left that out - no need to poke the bear. Especially when the bear was obviously trying very hard to keep his composure next to you, but the rage was still there. 

“All this happened yesterday?” He asked. You simply nodded. “Where’d you sleep?”

“The couch.” 

“He made you sleep on the couch?” His voice was calm, but you could tell he was seething. “Why didn’t you come over last night?

“That wouldn’t have helped anything,” you muttered, not really thinking about what you were saying until it was already out of your mouth. 

“Which means you wanted to, you just didn’t want him to be pissed at you,” Hasan muttered, tossing a shell he found further down the sand in annoyance. 

“Hasan-” you cautioned him again. Your heart was still a bit raw - Adam had his good moments, and you weren’t ready for the bashing you were sure Hasan was about to start. 

“I know you don’t wanna hear it, but he’s a piece of shit.”

“You think everyone I date is a piece of shit,” you countered.

“Well, none of them are good enough for you, I know that for damn sure.” 

“So if they don’t meet the Hasan Piker standard of approval, they’re automatically a piece of shit?” You teased, nudging his shoulder. “That seems a little harsh.”

“Hell yeah they are. I get to be harsh, that’s what best friends are for. For looking out for each other when the other one can’t see what’s going on,” he explained, but his tone had lightened up a bit, some of the anger fading. 

“Well you should find a girlfriend then so I can be picky too,” you grinned. He’d been single for so long now you didn’t get to give him shit like he did you. Sure, there had been a few little things, a few girls who were around for a month or so, but it never progressed into something serious.

“Oh god help any of them, if you think I’m harsh,” he chuckled, shaking his head. The conversation died down after that, both of you just enjoying each other’s company and the sound of the ocean crashing on the sand.

It wasn’t until the sun started to dip down, an orange glow starting to settle over everything, that he spoke up again.

“Promise me something.”

“Anything.” You didn’t have to think about it. Anything he asked of you, you’d do.

“Just... don’t go back to him. I know how you are sometimes, and you deserve so much better than that. So much better than that.” There was a sincerity in his voice and his eyes that made you want to look away - it was so intense that it almost made you uncomfortable. 

“Hasan he cheated on me. Why would I go back to him?”

“Because you forgive too easy. You’ve got a big heart, and people walk all over it, all the time. And it kills me. So just, promise, okay?” 

“Yeah. Okay. I promise.”

-