#whatever it is i can follow the plot now and THAT? THAT IS

[cherrixpie]

ACCISMUS

↬ maybe it was stupid trying to make theodore nott jealous by going to the yule ball with mattheo. maybe.

↬ sfw; wc: 9.4k; cw: violence, suggestive; theo nott x reader, friends to lovers

Mattheo Riddle was a genius. At least after today he was. Though it wasn't like he wasn't sharp, it was more so the fact that his desire to punch someone got in the way of his composure that had earned him the reputation of a beater rather than a schemer. Usually, it was Theodore with the observant eyes, perfect composure and the thoroughly thought-out plans. Mattheo would know, as Theo’s quick-witted responses and excuses were likely the only reason he hadn't been kicked out yet. But today, he would turn the tables.

As usual, younger students jumped out of his way as he stormed through the halls, climbing the stairs that led up to Gryffindor tower. A group of his peers that were climbing out of their common room entrance cast him incredulous looks as Mattheo surged forward to hold it open and slip in in their wake. The second he entered the lion’s den, conversations fell silent and a sea of Gryffindors wearing expressions of varying shock stared at him, standing panting before the exit.

With a sweeping glance, Mattheo spotted you, sitting by the fire with your friends and playing chess against Weasley. When he had entered, you had looked up from your game and were now looking at him with a raised eyebrow. He called your name and motioned outside, hoping you'd get the hint. You did and rose from your seat, quelling the nervous remarks of your Gryffindor friends.

In spite of your house, you had been included in Mattheo’s friend group ever since you’d had a charms project with Enzo in fifth year, who had introduced you to them. Against all odds, it had been an instant match, and you hung out with them whenever you could, even though your housemates had been opposing the idea from the start.

Now, you stifled their complaints and slipped past Mattheo out of the portrait hole, who followed in suit, not sorry to leave the room of judging stares behind. When he let the portrait fall back into place, he found you frowning at him. “Did you run all the way up here, Mattheo?”

“Maybe,” he grinned cheekily and you rolled your eyes, though actual annoyance was missing from both your eyes and voice. “Whatever for?”

His appearance was slightly unnerving. Though completely out of breath and heaving heavily, an eager, almost crazed smile tugged at his lips and his eyes glinted dangerously. “I have a proposition for you,” Mattheo grinned and you sighed. Oh Merlin. You were going to get roped into another one of his schemes, weren't you?

“So, here’s the deal,” Mattheo whispered conspicuously and dragged you into a darker part of the corridor. “I think we can both do each other a favor that benefits both of us.” He swatted his hand at your skeptical expression. “I mean, actually benefitting both of us.”

“Let's hear it,” you replied and crossed your arms. You had your doubts wether this wasn't just an elaborate plot advantageous to exactly one person: Mattheo. That wasn't prejudice talking, but experience. Just a few years ago, you would've thought it impossible that you would be friends with Mattheo Riddle one day, but he had turned out to be a genuinely funny and easy to talk to person. But that didn't mean you trusted him when he looked at you like that. Especially because Mattheo had a way of causing trouble that rivaled Harry Potter’s.

“Be my date for the Yule ball,” Mattheo blurted out and your brows only rose higher.

During the last few weeks, nobody had known another topic of interest than the Yule ball that would take place at the end of the week, the hustle and bustle around it had been exhausting. Not to mention the drama resulting from the dating rumors. Secretly, you’d been hoping that Theo would ask you out. You had been crushing on him since even before you were properly introduced, and befriending him had only intensified your feelings for him. But he hadn't made a move. And now this.

“How would that benefit either of us?” you said, stunned. “What use could either of us possibly have to gain from stepping on each other's toes for a whole evening?”

“Well,” Mattheo started, rubbing his neck. “Ya see, I have a lot of … options, but I don't want anyone to become attached and start bugging me or expecting a relationship.” He pulled a disgusted face and you suppressed the urge to roll your eyes. Out of his whole friend group, who were all very sexually active, Mattheo had earned himself the title of the biggest whore, but it looked like that came to beat him in the ass for the first time.

“Why don't you go alone, then?” you asked sensibly. “I'm sure no one is going to doubt your sexual prowess just because you go solo to the Yule ball.”

Mattheo shook his head. “Not an option. I did a bet with Draco and I have to eat a hundred living flubberworms if I don't get a date.” A shudder ran through his body at the thought. “So I’m thinking I'll just ask a friend. But Pansy and Blaise are going and Draco and Daphne have made arrangements and Merlin forgive me for not wanting to go to the ball with Enzo or Theo.”

You couldn't help the snort that escaped you and turned into a laugh at the incredulous look he gave you. “God, Mattheo, I can't believe it. This is absurd.”

Patiently, Mattheo waited for you to come down from your laughing fit. “So, what do you say, angel? I can dance, I promise.”

“What's wrong with going out with Enzo or Theo?” you asked elusively. Though you had become used to the looks and stares that you earned every time your friendship to the Slytherin gang came up, you weren't keen on the attention you’d get for going out with the Dark Lord’s son, even if it was merely platonic.

“Come on,” Mattheo pleaded with you and it was a genuinely curious sight to hear him beg. “Think about what's in it for you!”

“Having to listen to you for hours on end and a public witch hunt?”

“Aha!” he called and sprung up. “That's where part two of my plan comes in.” When you opened your mouth to protest, he waved his hands to stop you. “Listen to this. I get to escape the flubberworms and the nosy girls and you get to make Theo jealous.” Ignoring your spluttered response, he continued. “That boy’s head over heels for you, and with a little luck, seeing you with me will make him explode and confess, and the two of you can ride into the sunset together yada yada yada.”

Luckily, your hidden corner was so dark the blush on your cheeks would not be visible to the eye, but in the deafening silence that followed, you could hear your heart beating faster. Finally, you broke it with a wavering laugh. “You’re ridiculous, Theo doesn't like me like that. He isn't- he wouldn't-” But Mattheo grinned wider the more you stuttered on and you glared at him. “If he likes me, why hasn't he asked me out yet?”

It was impossible. Too good to be true. Theo was stunning, he was smart and just overall great. When you first joined their friend group, he had warmed up to you the fastest, after Enzo of course, even though it was quite unusual of him to be open to strangers. But you had bonded over your shared academic interests, and once you had started recommending each other books and studying together, you were a done deal. But it was a purely platonic deal, at least from his perspective. Right?

“He will,” Mattheo interrupted your train of thought. “And he’ll give you the same spiel as me. He just needs a wake up call to realize he wants to fuck you!” Ignoring your piqued look, he gesticulated wildly. “Come on, are you just going to let him use you when you love him and he can't wrap his head around his feelings for you?”

“Like you are using me?” you reminded him but it couldn't deter Mattheo. “That's different. You don't have feelings for me, do you?”

You avoided his eye as you pondered his proposal. What if it didn't work? Well, at least you'd know and finally be able to let go of your stupid crush. There was, objectively, nothing wrong with going to the ball with Mattheo, you could just say you were helping out a friend.

Mattheo had said Theo had feelings for you- but what did he know? Why would someone as amazing as Theo be interested in you? Then again, there had been those moments, between bookshelves in the library, or in his common room, or out at the lake, shuffling closer to each other because of the cold. Moments when he had said or done something more befitting of a boyfriend rather than a friend. Rare smiles, interlaced fingers, sweet compliments, weirdly romantic Italian nicknames you had researched in a muggle library over the holidays. Was there a chance that Mattheo, who had the emotional intelligence of a tree trunk, was right about Theo’s feelings, or was he simply misinterpreting them?

“He really likes you,” Mattheo added quietly, as if he had read your thoughts. “He just needs a little push. Come on, angel, what could go wrong?”

Angel. That nickname. The first time Mattheo had called you that had been in the Slytherin common room. You had been lounging on the couch next to Theo, a book abandoned in your lap, and tried to cheer them up after a depressing quidditch practice. When Mattheo had called you an angel, Theo’s hand on your thigh had tightened and you had looked up just in time to see him throw a warning glare at Mattheo. Maybe there was something to his words.

But then again, you reminded yourself, Mattheo had an agenda with this, and when had someone else ever been more important for him than he himself? It was ridiculous to think that Theo liked you, but you were so hopeful. What if Mattheo’s stupid plan did work in your favor?

“F-fine,” you spluttered out before you could start to doubt yourself again. “I'll go with you. But it won't work because Theo doesn't like me like that. And you’re just taking advantage of my stupid schoolgirl crush. So, if it doesn't work, which it won't, you’re going to let me test my practice potions on you for a weekend. Deal?”

“Deal,” Mattheo grinned, shaking your outstretched hand. “But I fear you’ll have to find another guinea pig for your potions, because it will work.”

When Mattheo strode into the Slytherin common room fifteen minutes later, he walked in on Pansy beating Blaise at chess maliciously. The light of the flickering green fire made the shadows of their chess figures flicker over the walls in giant dimensions. Both of them looked up when he fell down on the couch with a triumphant grin and exchanged a glance. Usually, Mattheo's good mood could mean one of two things: someone was bleeding or someone was going to bleed.

“So…,” Blaise began when Mattheo made no indication of speaking. “What's got you in such a good mood?” Immediately after, he began to curse bitterly when Pansy took advantage of the distraction to get rid of his Queen.

“I’m not going to eat any flubberworms any time soon,” Mattheo said, satisfied. “y/n just agreed to go to the ball with me.”

The reaction was immediate. Pansy choked on a chocolate frog she had been eating and Blaise was too shocked to pat her back when she began to cough. In the armchair a few feet away, Enzo shot up and stared at Mattheo as if he had just announced he’d take a Hungarian Horntail to the ball. Then, he folded up his edition of the daily prophet he had been reading and sighed. “Mate, Theo’s going to kill you. Like, properly murder you.”

“That's what I'm counting on!” Mattheo retorted enthusiastically, undeterred by the skeptical looks on his friend’s faces. “Hold up, it's actually genius. I go out with y/n, Theo’s jealousy overloads, he explodes, finally confesses to her and stops yapping to us about how great she is.” He had framed his words with dramatic gestures, but they didn't have the planned effect.

“Mattheo, you absolute idiot,” said Pansy, so outraged at this display of foolishness that she didn't catch Blaise sneaking some of his chess pieces back onto the board. “You think jealousy is going to work? Have you met Theo? He’ll just brood in the corner forever.”

“She's got a point,” said Enzo, rolling up his newspaper and staggering over to his friends. “Also, Theo’s not going to confess if he thinks she’s into you!”

“You all underestimate his selfishness,” said Mattheo, still wholly convinced of this plan. The others exchanged looks. “Of course he’ll be broody and torn, but in the end, he’ll choose himself, as much as he loves her. And then he'll finally man up and tell her how he feels, she’ll confess right back and they ride out into the sunset together. Come on, it's guaranteed to work!”

A long silence followed, in which Mattheo smiled to himself giddily and the others contemplated the plan. Then- “this is why no one trusts you with anything emotional, Mattheo,” said Blaise, shaking his head. “Why not just talk to Theo instead of creating this drama? Oh, right, because you’re Mattheo.”

“We’ve tried, haven't we?” Mattheo asked in an exasperated voice. “We’ve told both of them again and again to finally get off their ass and make a move and they never listen, because they are oblivious angsty idiots.” He did have a point. Since the start of term, it had been obvious to the whole friend group how head over heels in love the two of you were for each other. Their attempts to get you together had failed miserably, however. Though the two of you were probably the smartest in your friend group, in this matter, you were wholly oblivious.

Enzo was the first to speak. “I swear, if you ruin this for Theo and y/n, I’m taking you down myself.”

“You can try, Berkshire,” grinned Mattheo, reaching for his wand, but Enzo only rolled his eyes and retreated back to his armchair, unfolding the daily prophet and continuing to read where he had left off.

“Wait,” said Pansy, narrowing her eyes at him. “y/n actually said yes to this? She's either braver than I thought or just as mad as you are.” She groaned exasperatedly and rubbed her temple, giving Blaise the opportunity to wipe a few of her chess pieces off the board without her noticing. “I give it two days before Theo starts plotting your untimely demise. Maybe less.”

“Well, that's the spirit, isn't it?” Said Mattheo, brimming with excitement. “Haven't had an equal fight in months.”

“Oh, that's what this is about,” murmured Pansy under her breath and gave Blaise a sharp look at if to say 'I've done all I can, it's your turn now’. Blaise, who wasn't one to let down his girlfriend, frowned thoughtfully. “Mark my words, this isn’t going to end well- for you, at least. I’ll enjoy watching, though.”

“Watching what?”

All four of them shot around at the sound of a drawled out voice coming from the entrance. It was Draco, covered in mud and shouldering a broom, and in his wake Theo, looking no less in need of a bath. “Why weren't you at practice, mate?” Draco asked Mattheo, who surely didn't regret ditching practice now that he'd gotten a clean shirt and a date out of it.

“I had to make a trip to Gryffindor tower,” he answered honestly, eyes roaming over their dirty forms. “Equally as unpleasant, I figure. Though it did ultimately work in my favor. Because I have a date for the ball now.” His observant eyes rested on Theo, who’s tired ones briefly flickered over and narrowed at him in suspicion.

“You’re taking a lion to the ball?” asked Draco skeptically, he seemed unable to imagine Mattheo having the audacity to ask you out, since, as everyone knew, you were Theo’s girl. “You must be really desperate. Who's the unlucky girl?”

“y/n,” grinned Mattheo simply, but the words had their intended effect nonetheless. A loud clatter silenced the common room when Draco’s broom landed on the floor, having slipped right out of his hands. His face was almost as white as his platinum hair as he gaped at Mattheo and then glanced back at Theo who had frozen mid-motion. Now, he straightened up once more to look at Mattheo. Theo, other than Mattheo, understood it to hide his reactions behind a mask of indifference, but his blue eyes were as hard and cold as ice.

“She said yes?”

“Yeah,” grinned Mattheo, failing to read the room, or he simply said the following out of madness. “She seemed pretty stoked!”

“Did she?” asked Theo tight-lipped and Mattheo only grinned in response. Teasing Theo, prodding him, holding you over his head, waiting for him to snap, for his oh-so-great composure to crack was the definition of fun. Mattheo could almost see it flicker in his eyes, the desire to punch him, to punish him, for taking what was his. And then, Theo’s annoying righteousness when it came to you, how he would remind himself that you didn't belong to him, that you could do whatever you pleased.

Mattheo could imagine both sides battling viciously in Theo’s head as he returned his gaze, it was delicious to have him squirm. He only had to watch his step, not play with the fire too much. Theodore Nott was one of the few people he knew that could actually beat his ass if they got poked too much. But he didn't take his eyes off Theo's who seemed just as determined to hold his. Out of his peripheral vision, he could see his hands tighten around his broom before they relaxed, he spread his fingers like spiders and disciplined his own body into submission.

“So,” said Theo cooly, a certain bitterness tinging his tone that he kept to a minimum. Of course Theo knew Mattheo was trying to provoke him, and he was determined not to give him the satisfaction, or that was what Mattheo himself concluded. “When exactly did you decide you were into her? Before or after you knew I-” Theo paused and clenched his jaw “Never mind.”

“Does that bother you?” Mattheo asked in faux consideration and he could feel his friends holding their breath. Theo's infamous death stare fell upon him and the grin fell off his face, though the daring look in his eyes did not subside.

When Theo answered, his voice was smooth and controlled. “Doesn’t bother me. I just… didn’t think she’d be your type.”

“Why not?” asked Mattheo, his body ready for attack, every nerve tense in excited anticipation of a good fight. “She’s sweet, pretty, smart-”

“She's too good for you,” Theo cut him off with narrowed eyes, but Mattheo only shrugged. “It's the damn Yule ball, mate, I just need a date so I don't have to eat three courses worth of flubberworms, and I could imagine way worse than spending the evening with her. I mean,” a light smirk curled his lips, “she's not your girlfriend, is she?”

Oh, he could just feel Theo’s fury in his fingertips, the way he looked at him as if he wanted to take his head off. How he had to regret not asking you sooner, how confused over his anger he had to feel. Mattheo reveled in the power he had over him. But Theo smoothed out his features and stared at him through a mask of indifference. “Right.” Looking somehow a lot moodier than when he had stepped in, already brooding, he shouldered his broom and left for the boy’s showers.

His absence left behind a tense silence. Blaise was the first to speak. “Mattheo, mate… you're dead.” But Mattheo only laughed, pulling out a pack of cigarettes, unbothered by his pessimistic outlook and still wholly convinced of his plan.

You wondered if Theo had caught wind of the Yule ball arrangement when you caught sight of him the next day in the Great Hall, looking more somber than ever. Even from the Gryffindor table, you could see him staring gloomily down on his porridge as if it had wronged him somehow. You were equally as unable to eat. Gnawing on your lip, you weighed the explanations in your head. Could he be jealous? No, that was too good to be true. It couldn't be.

Maybe he too had made a bet with Draco and had to eat flubberworms if he didn't find a date? Maybe there was some other explanation as to why Theo seemed to be answering all questions directed at him with either a frown or a shrug. Hunched over, his dark locks fell into his eyes as he glowered at his meal, fingers flexing around his fork. It was true, Theo was a grim person, and on bad days, he tended to glower at everyone who crossed his path- could this be just another one of his mood-swings?

“Everything alright?”

Taken aback, you looked at Hermoine who surveyed you with a cautious look in her brown eyes. “You haven't eaten.”

“I'm just not hungry,” you smiled truthfully and discarded the fork. No use pretending, you weren't getting any breakfast down today. Not when Theo looked so distractingly sinister and gorgeous.

But Hermoine didn't look convinced. “What did Riddle want yesterday? When he wanted to talk to you, what did he say?”

Your attention had been captured by Theo giving Mattheo his nastiest death glare, so you only registered the words slowly. “Huh? Oh, he only asked me to be his date for the Yule ball.” you replied, making Hermoine choke on her cereal. “He did what?”

Biting into the sour apple, you decided to come clean. “I said yes.” To escape her unbelieving and quite frankly accusing eyes, you rose from your seat. “See you in Arithmancy, Hermoine,” you said hastily and walked along the Gryffindor table in long strides. When you reached the doorway, however, you turned left and walked along the Slytherin table towards your friends.

Pansy noticed you approaching and waved, making the others look up as well. Mattheo grinned at you and blew you a kiss you rolled your eyes at. When Theo’s eyes fell upon you, however, they softened visibly. He scooted to the side, making space for you to sit down next to him. You smiled at him, albeit intimidated slightly by his bad mood, and moved closer to him. To your immense relief, he returned your smile and grabbed an empty glass to fill it with pumpkin juice and place it before you.

“Decided on a dress yet?” Pansy asked from the other side of the table and you looked at her, therefore missing the slight narrowing of Theo’s eyes at the mention of the ball. You did, however, notice his hand, reaching for yours over the table and interlocking your fingers with his. The Nott family ring on his ring finger burned cold against your skin, the calloused tips of his fingers from all the smoking burns felt even more uneven against your soft skin. You didn't know why you noticed his hands so clearly at this moment. Maybe, you realized, because you had never actually held his hand.

“Uh- yes,” you said, a little flustered, and returned your attention to Pansy who gave you a knowing look. “And you?”

The two of you slipped into a conversation about the ball and your dresses that the other boys participated scarcely in. Blaise asked questions about Pansy’s dress that he had never actually seen before. From time to time, Draco threw in a comment about his dancing skills and Enzo laughed along to Pansy’s teasing. Mattheo made flirty comments towards you when you talked about your dress, glancing at Theo to gauge his reaction.

Only Theo didn't participate in the conversation, though his fingers stayed interlocked with yours. Every now and again, they seemed to tighten, especially when Mattheo directed one of his flirty comments at you. But maybe that was just wishful thinking on your part. When everyone rose to go to class, he tugged you down again by your interwoven hands. His expression was serious. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

“Uh, sure,” you smiled, waving the others goodbye. Mattheo winked at you and you rolled your eyes at him. You sat back down, but Theo didn't speak immediately. His eyes studied your face, roamed over your features, as if he was seeing you for the first time- really seeing you. Merlin, he was an idiot. He should have asked you before Mattheo would be able to. The thought that you had looked up at Mattheo this sweetly just a day prior, before he had gotten ahead of him and asked you, was gnawing at him.

“You're going to the ball with Mattheo?” he forced the words past his lips, but managed to make them sound casual, as if he was asking about the weather.

“Yes?” you said and immediately scolded yourself for making it sound like a question. Your tone made him lift his brow as his eyes searched yours for any hesitance. “You don't have to go out with him, if you don't want to,” he said.

You could hear your heart beat in your ears. Was he trying to tell you that you had other options? Like him? For one second, you could see yourself, in the dress you had already picked out, side by side with Theo. He had to be a wonderful dancer. But then, you remembered what Mattheo had said. It was a platonic offer, even if he had feelings for you. Which you doubted. The thought of going with him when it was a merely platonic deal for him but meant so much to you, it was almost unbearable.

“I want to,” you replied and your voice sounded steadier than you’d dared to hope. For a second, you thought you saw his expression drop, but you could never trust your eyes with him, his fleeting expressions and flashes of emotions were hard to keep up with, even for you, who could see through him better than most people, by his own admission.

Theo merely nodded and stood up. Before you could, he shouldered your book back as well. Like the gentleman he was, he fended off your protests and held out his arm for you to take, as if you were at a special occasion, when, in truth, it was just another Tuesday in the Great Hall. Both glad and disappointed that nothing had changed, you slipped your arm into his and you left the Hall on your way to the Arithmancy classroom.

The soft hum of chatter filled the entrance hall as students in glittering gowns and sharply tailored dress robes gathered beneath the glowing light of the enchanted candles. The winged doors to the Great Hall were still shut as students who had partners in another house pushed through the crowd in search of them. You, however, didn't have much of a hard time finding your group of Slytherin friends, as any sane student steered clear of them. Before they could make you out in the wave of Gryffindor students that swept over the hall just now, you spotted them in a more secluded corner.

Of course, you noticed Theo first. He looked impossibly handsome in his dress robes. They were black, but with subtle hints of dark green. A dark green that matched the color of your dress. As if you were just meant for each other. Well, in your dreams. You noticed he didn't have a girl on his arm, neither did Enzo. Pansy and Daphne both looked gorgeous in their dresses, and especially Blaise looked hopelessly smitten. Then, there was Mattheo. You were somewhat surprised to see that he was actually wearing something formal. It was already a rarity for him not to be bloody, but to wear something festive was not a sight you ever expected to be subjected to.

Mattheo was the first to spot your approaching frame, a slow grin spreading across his face as he leaned casually against the wall, hands stuffed in his pockets. His gaze seeped over you with an aporoving nod. “Well, aren't you dressed up nicely,” he drawled when you were in earshot, causing the others to take notice of your presence as well. Pansy, ever supportive, let out a low whistle, Blaise wiggled his eyebrows and Enzo gave you a thumbs up. But it was Theo’s reaction that you felt most acutely- a subtle shift in his posture, his jaw tightening ever so slightly as he looked you over. His gaze felt hot on your body and you felt your breath hitch when his stormy eyes locked with yours, a flicker of something unspoken flashing across his face before he quickly glanced away.

Fuck. You were gorgeous. Of course, he'd always known you were pretty, but seeing you in that dress did something to him. That green was the color of his house, of his family, the color of him. You looked like his, even though Mattheo put an arm around your waist and pulled you towards him. He could have killed him, he might have, if you hadn't let out a bright laugh at something he had said that stilled every and all remains of fury in him. Your laugh was disarming, especially when you looked over at him and gifted him one of your sweet smiles. “Hey, Theo.”

He could only nod, unable to take his eyes off you, even when the doors to the great hall opened and the group slowly made their way towards them. His gaze zeroed in on Mattheo's hand on your lower back. That was not Mattheo's spot, that was where his hand lay when he was walking you to class or Hogsmeade. Unable to look anywhere else, he followed the others mechanically, unaware of the glimpses you stole at him to gauge his reaction. But all you could see was indifference.

When you stepped through the doors you were momentarily distracted from Theo. The Great Hall was alight with blue light, decked in ice crystals. The usual four house tables had made way for a multitude of smaller, round tables surrounding the dance floor that took up the better part of the hall. Mattheo led the way to one table in close proximity to the dance floor, which surprised Theo. Usually, Mattheo preferred corners over the center.

Mattheo pulled out your chair for you before Theo had the chance to and - wether by chance or because he was a snarky asshole - sat down in between Theo and you. With a sly grin at Theo, he interlocked your fingers over the table and moved closer to you. In that moment, Theo swore to himself that he would dance with you today. He'd stay up until three in the morning if necessary, but he would hold you in his arms tonight, twirl you around in that damn dress and see the light of the crystals reflected in your eyes. And if he had to hex Mattheo, he would gladly do so.

Your laughter rang in his ears and he cursed himself. Hex Mattheo, and ruin your night? What right did he even have to feel like this? As much as he hated to admit it, Mattheo was right. You weren't his girlfriend, he had no claim over you. His possessiveness was sick, twisted and entirely selfish. You were his friend and he should only want the best for you. What he had masked as ‘the best for you’ was no more than what fulfilled his desires. He was being a horrible friend to you.

“Wanna dance, angel?” Theo couldn't even find it in himself to feel anything but bitterness when Mattheo rose and offered you his outstretched hand. Over his death stare directed at the table, he missed the way you glanced over at him before taking it and allowing Mattheo to eagerly drag you to the dance floor. The music was fairly quick and as Mattheo twirled you around, you let him pull you into him and mirrored his steps. Mattheo was a fairly skilled dancer, but you struggled to keep up with his extravagant style and quick steps.

Mattheo twirled you around so fast you could barely see beyond the flashes of blue that remained of the room. And even when a more slow piece came on, he found a way to keep you on your toes. “He's looking over,” you whispered after daring a glance over your shoulder to see that Theo's brooding gaze was fixed on the two of you.

“You even have eyes in your head?” grinned Mattheo, pulling you closer by your waist. “He's been looking at you the whole evening.” A smirk curled his lip. “Told ya”

You were a little too out of breath to answer, but when Mattheo leaned close to whisper a question in your ear, you nodded, albeit a little hesitant. Your rowdy dancing partner pulled you even closer until there was barely any space between you two. When he said something, anything, you giggled and he laughed along, even though neither of you remembered what he had said. In spite of the dancing, Mattheo managed to dip his head down and trail pecks up your neck to the shell of your ear. The shudder that went through your body was not as much a result of his lips, but a reaction to the way Theo’s fists clenched as you locked eyes.

Worry and stupid excitement coiled in your stomach. The way he was glaring at you through his dark locks, his fists clenching and unclenching, his cerulean eyes so dark, his posture so tense as if he was a predator ready to devour his prey, was so damn attractive that you couldn't help but stare longer than you intended to, before you managed to avert your eyes and focus them back on Mattheo. But you couldn't help but worry what his tense appearance might mean. Had he seen through Mattheo's plan to make him jealous and considered this a betrayal of your friendship?

Meanwhile, Theo had to summon up his last reserves of restraint when his best mate’s hand crept down your back, further than he was supposed to, teetering the edge of inappropriateness. But you looked so happy, laughing along to Mattheo's jokes. Though somehow, he had missed the repeated glances you cast at him all throughout the dance.

When the next number came on, you parted from Mattheo who lifted his brows. “That's enough. If he hasn't done anything by now, I must be right. You were wrong about these supposed feelings, Mattheo.” You sighed and shook your head about your own stupidity. Of course Theo hadn't reacted, you’d been right all along. Still, disappointment stung in your heart. Maybe you had held on to hope. Oh, who were you kidding, a part of you had believed Mattheo, and now you felt way worse than you had before. Before Mattheo could talk, you parted from him and left the dance floor.

Theo slowly, dangerously, lifted his head from his knuckles as his gaze followed your figure, ducking in between dancing couples to make your way back over. Your expression showed disappointment, sadness… you’d always been easy to read for him. When he asked you about it, you said you showed your emotions openly on purpose. Why, he had asked, and you'd laughed and said that you wanted to make people feel at ease and safe when talking to you, so you showed yourself to them to invite them in, make them feel welcome.

Even though he didn't fully understand, he admired you for it, recognized it as a strength when Mattheo had outright laughed at your explanation, earning him a sinister glare. But right now, Theo desperately wished he wouldn't be faced with your sorrow, it would make it easier to keep himself from walking over to Mattheo, drag him out into the hall and finally confront him. A horrible suspicion dawned on him as he locked eyes with Mattheo, who had been watching your retreating figure as well. When they locked eyes, he grinned, winked and disappeared into the crowd of dancing bodies. Had he been using you to make Theo jealous, to tease him for his personal satisfaction?

His sinister thoughts were quelled when you reached the table and sat down next to him, bending over with a groan and slipping out of your heels. But before you could even grab a slice of cake to drown your sorrows in sweets, someone got a hold of your hand. You followed the arm and saw Theo, looking at you with a serious expression. His grip was soft, as if you were fragile, made out of glass, made to look pretty and shatter. But his eyes were hard as stone. “What did he say to you?”

“Huh?” you asked, genuinely perplexed at the growl in his voice. “Who- what- You mean Mattheo?” A curt nod. You understood. Theo must've misinterpreted your bad mood upon leaving the dance floor for hurt at something Mattheo had said. “Nothing,” you said quickly. “Everything's alright.” But your reassurances couldn't wipe the skepticism from his eyes. “Look, it's just my feet that started to hurt, alright? It's not Mattheo's fault.”

Though he still looked doubtful, Theo seemed to accept your explanation and reached over to cut you a large piece of cake. In spite of your expensive dress, you brought your knees to your chest as you started eating, but your sudden appetite quickly subsided. With a long sigh, you leaned your head on Theo’s shoulder and reveled in his warmth. “‘M sorry,” you murmured under your breath, unsure if he would even catch it.

He did, and frowned, you could hear it in his voice though you didn't see his face. “What for, amore?” Amorina. It meant ‘little love’, or that was what the muggle dictionary books said. Those damn Italian nicknames. His accent, barely noticeable in everyday conversation, was thicker when he spoke hushed and you allowed yourself to revel in how it made you feel, just for a moment. Then, you shrugged, hoping it would be enough of an explanation for now. Would you ever be able to tell him why you had gone to the ball with Mattheo or would you sooner die of embarrassment?

This wasn't so bad. Actually, it was quite nice. You rocked slightly in the rhythm of the music and leaned into Theo who, in turn, leaned onto you carefully. Somehow, your hands had found each other. Draco was dancing with Daphne, Blaise and Pansy were making out in a distant corner of the room and Enzo was at the buffet to get seconds. It was quite peaceful, almost like you two were the only thing that mattered and all around you was just noise and light and colors. They would fade, he wouldn't, and you wouldn't either.

Your peace was only disturbed when Mattheo arrived, who, to your not-really surprise, had a giggling girl holding onto his arm. Unbeknownst to you, Mattheo had not given up just yet. If Theo's selfishness wasn't stronger than his desire to see you happy, maybe his knight-in-shining-armor urges would be. He grabbed your plate from in front of you, ignoring Theo's frowns, dug the fork into it and held it out to the giggling girl that was clutching his dress robes.

“You enjoying yourself, darling?” he asked and she nodded, giving him a sultry look. He cast you a deliberately indifferent look. “You don't mind, angel, do you?” Though he didn't dare look at Theo and give himself away, he could practically feel him fuming.

“Knock yourselves out,” you replied with a wave of your hand but Theo was not so quick to dismiss the scene. He rose from his seat, feeling as if all his frustration and resentment of the last week had reached its peak and was ready to boil over. In moments like these, when he allowed his anger to escape, to be felt just for a moment before funneling it towards the intended target with deliberate precision, he could feel himself getting calmer. The rushing in his ears subsided, his heartbeat slowed to a normal pace as he looked down on his best mate.

“What do you think you're doing?”

“Taking a gorgeous girl to dance with me,” Mattheo answered casually, grinning at the girl on his arm. How could he act as if you weren't even there? How dare he run to another when he had taken you to be his date, was he never satisfied?

“You already have a date, scemo,” he growled. By now, a few pairs of eyes had gotten wind of the brewing storm. A few of them stepped closer to observe the scene, others pushed through the crowd to put some space between them and the two boys who now glared at each other. Mattheo was tense, brimming with excitement and pushed away the girl. Theo, on the other hand, seemed almost unnaturally calm, his hand slowly slipping into his robes in search of his wand.

“Theo,” you said quietly, in an ineffectual attempt to avoid more attention. “I really don't mind.” He cast you a quick glance and you knew it hadn't been enough. His eyes were soft all of the sudden, but you knew he wouldn't back down. And you weren't going to lie, it did warm your chest that he was so willing to stand up for you. Though you didn't want the situation to escalate into an actual fight because of your’s and Mattheo’s stupidity.

Mattheo would apologize to you for the following later, but now he had to wound Theo up so much that he’d attack him with bare hands, Mattheo's preferred method of fighting, because he knew he couldn't beat the academic weapon Theo in a wizarding duel. “Yeah, she was kind of a bore so I-” But he didn't get to finish that sentence, because Theo had abandoned the search for his wand, surged forward and tackled Mattheo so they fell to the ground in a heap of robes and fists.

You had rarely seen Theo fight. Well, that was not quite true. You'd seen him hex people, curse fellow students, but never like this. The punches he delivered to Mattheo’s face were less deliberate and full of rage. It was a show of force unlike any you'd ever seen from him. When tackling Matteo, he had discarded his robes and now his white shirt got the first red spots. Mattheo hit and kicked back with the same fervor you already knew from him, and you could see it in his eyes, this was all just a game for him.

Students screamed when a resounding crack echoed through the hall, amplified by the sudden silence that had come over the crowd as everyone formed a circle around the fighting boys. Theo had broken Mattheo's nose, you were sure of it, and for a moment, you thought Mattheo was down, but of course not. Without a sound of pain, he shot up and tackled Theo, who had hesitated for a split second too long, to the ground. Wherever they threatened to crash into the wall of onlookers, the students moved back like a coordinated swarm of fish.

Slowly, Theo seemed to get the upper hand on Mattheo who seemed slightly knocked out from the hit in the face that had broken his nose. But nonetheless, while Theo’s expression was bitter and hard as he brought his fist down on Mattheo's face again and again, the latter laughed, almost crazily, coughing up blood. His laughter was the loudest sound, and for a good minute, you doubted his sanity. In contrast, Theo was eerily silent as he beat Mattheo with the utmost concentration, jaw clenched and eyes full of disdain.

Finally, the headmaster managed to push through the crowd. Some of them were chanting, others were covering their faces with their hands. Dumbledore assessed the situation in one glance, and you thought he even winked at you, before he pulled out his wand. As if pulled apart by invisible hands, Mattheo and Theo were ripped apart and both stumbled a few feet back, making the crowd on either side burst to scramble away.

They were both heaving. Mattheo looked worse than Theo, his nose was visibly broken and his face was littered with cuts and bruises and two black eyes. Theo’s lip and nose were bleeding, dripping crimson upon his stained shirt, as were his fists, and a darkening bruise bloomed above his right jawline. Both of them looked ready to jump back into it, if it hadn't been for a very disgruntled Snape, who stepped in between and sneered at Theo especially. “What a display! You have dishonored your house with your public brawling-”

“Now, now, Severus,” said Dumbledore calmly and smiled in understanding. “Tempers run high at events like these. I can remember, in my youth, there was no ball without a good duel. Of course, some choose the more direct approach.” His eyes twinkled.

Unfortunately, Mattheo chose the exact moment to send you a wink and Theo, who looked just about a hundred percent done with his bullshit, took a step towards him, only to be roughly pushed back by Snape. It couldn't stop the words leaving his mouth through gritted teeth, though. “Sei praticamente mio fratello,” growled Theo with a wild look in his blue eyes. “come hai potuto farmi questo, pezzo di merda?"

Mattheo was still gasping for breath and wincing at every inhale, but he grinned nonetheless. “non parlo italiano, you dumbass,” he sneered with what you could only assume was a heavy British accent, and Theo, still fuming, spit on the ground over Snapes shoulder who was still holding him back.

“Now, now,” said Dumbledore with a level of indulgence you could only admire him for. “I believe, Mr Riddle, you should see Miss Pomphrey. As for you, Mr Nott, how about a walk to, ah- cool off?”

Theo pushed Snape off of him who glared at him, only to be glared at right back. “Twenty points off Slytherin, Nott,” he said with clear disdain in his voice. Before Theo could protest or do something rash (you had never seen him like this, he looked like he was capable of anything), you grabbed his hand and started pulling. To your immense surprise and relief, Theo gave in immediately, following you as you pushed through the students, out of the door, through the entrance hall, and finally, out into the dark grounds where the chilly night air finally cleared your head a little.

You sat down on the stone steps and Theo followed suit, still breathing heavily and flexing his hands. For a few minutes, you didn't dare speak. When you finally managed to work up the words and the courage, it was Theo who spoke first. His voice had lost all temper, all edge, it was full of regret. “I'm sorry, amore.” Taken aback, he turned your head to look at him. His gaze was fixed on his hands, covered in both Mattheo's and his blood, seeping out of his knuckles.

“What for?” you asked and he finally looked at you, albeit as if you were asking a very ridiculous question. “Cazzo, for ruining your night. You deserve better, I was a-” But you didn't let him finish, you reached over to wrap your arms around him and pull him in, needing his warmth more than ever. Immediately, his arms engulfed your form and he pulled you into him so that you were sitting halfway in his lap, but neither of you cared. Maybe even without realizing, he rocked you back and forth lightly and you breathed out, breathed in, let the smell of him consume you whole. Cigarettes had never smelled better.

When Theo reluctantly released you, his gaze trailed over the goosebumps on your arms. Your dress, as wonderful as it was, did not have sleeves. “Let's go,” he said softly. He didn't say where, but you didn't care, you trusted him. So you let him pull you up and back inside, down the staircase to the dungeons. None of you said a word. When you stepped inside, the Slytherin common room was deserted, as everyone was still upstairs, enjoying themselves.

Theo urged you towards the couch, but you had come to a halt. You knew you needed to come clean. Now. Before he had the chance to actually take Mattheo's head off. Mistaking your hesitation for doubt rather than guilt, Theo let his arms engulf you once more. It may have been a trick of your imagination, but you thought you heard him breathe in the scent of your hair. “Maleditelo, that bastard. Merlin, I could have broken his fucking jar if they'd given me one more minute. Curse him for doing that to you. I’d never have-” He fell silent.

You sighed against his chest, silently wishing you'd never taken part in Mattheo's crazy plan. “I didn't mind that,” you murmured into his blood-stained shirt, reveling in the feeling of his thumbs brushing over your shoulder as he held you. But it stopped, and Theo pulled away, face contorted into a bitter smile as he began to pace in front of you. “No, of course you didn't. Sei troppo dannatamente bonario, troppo gentile, troppo perfetto.”

“Theo!” you said loudly and that made him look down on you. Your voice was shaking slightly. “I’m sorry.” He frowned, and then it all spilled out of you. How Mattheo had proposed the idea of making him jealous because he was convinced he liked you, how you had said yes because you were a lovesick idiot, how he had been purposefully riling him up and you had went along with it all. “I'm sorry,” you said shakily, holding back tears. “I was so stupid, this is all my fault, I'm so, so sorry Theo.”

During the whole tale, Theo hadn't moved an inch. Now, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from out of his pocket, ignited one with a bit of wandless magic and took a long drag. Usually, Theo didn't smoke when you were around, because he knew you didn't like it. But desperate times seemed to call for desperate measures. Staring down at the glowing cigarette between his fingers, Theo seemed to gauge the words, weigh them on his tongue, before he spoke. “You like me?”

“I love you,” you confessed, hiding your face in your hands. “God, Theo, I'm so sorry.”

“Why didn't you just talk to me?” You peeked at him through your fingers, but he seemed calm. Sure, he was frowning, but the cigarette seemed to have helped. His gaze was fixed on you as he studied your expression, what little he could catch a glimpse of, anyway.

You let out a helpless sigh, feeling ridiculous. “Because… you know, you’re you.”

At that, his frown deepened and he took another drag of his cigarette, as if to calm himself. Then, he flicked it into an ashtray and approached you slowly. His gentle hands came up to pry your hands from your face. They fell helplessly at your sides. “What's that supposed to mean?” he asked with furrowed brows. “Are you intimidated by me, amorina?”

“N- no!” you stuttered desperately, “it's just…” You let out a long sigh, not daring to look at him. “I was scared it might ruin our friendship, it just… seemed like the best way.” As you spoke them, you realized the stupidity of your words, and Theo, too, raised his brow at you. “You thought going to the ball with Mattheo to make me jealous, letting him kiss you on the dance floor and rile me up all evening was the best way, did you?”

“Yes?” you squeaked, never having felt this abashed in your life.

Theo rolled his eyes, but he leaned down and suddenly he was so close. So close you could feel, hear and smell his breath, still reeking of cigarettes. So close you suddenly realized just how blue his eyes were, a deep cerulean blue. So close your breath hitched. Theo's voice was but a whisper, but he seemed distracted, his eyes darting between your eyes and - could it be? - down to your lips. “Stupid plan.”

“I know,” you breathed, looking at him with wide, teary eyes that Theo wanted to burn into his memory forever. He couldn't find it in him to be mad at you. Not when you looked at him like this, not when he could smell you.

“It worked,” was all he said, and you could barely comprehend the words before his lips crashed onto yours.

You'd imagined many times how it might feel to kiss Theo, too feel those soft lips on yours. Would it be messy? Gentle? Rough? It turned out to be none of those, or perhaps all of those. Kissing Theo was dizzyingly overwhelming. His lips moved in yours in a controlled passion, slow and meticulous, but at the same time, hungry. So, so hungry when he let out a groan and parted your lips with his to slip his tongue into your mouth. To explore, to discover, to make you whimper against him as he pulled you in tighter by the waist.

You suddenly felt impossibly hot and bothered, especially when Theo's lips departed from your mouth to nip at your jaw and travel down the crook of your neck, biting, sucking, caressing, worshipping. When you felt something solid poke against your thigh, you gasped, nervousness coiling in your stomach. “M-maybe,” you stuttered, “now that all is cleared up, we should maybe go look after Mattheo in the-”

You gasped loudly when Theo bit down hard on your neck, silencing you effectively with the growl that escaped his throat. “Don't say his fucking name, amore.” You nodded frantically, biting back moans, and Theo started lapping at the bite, rubbing his tongue over it in soothing circles as his hands travelled down, further down before they reached the slit in your dress and he grabbed a handful of your thigh. “You can scream mine instead.”

Suddenly, the door burst open and you jumped, Theo took a step back from you to glare at your intruders. It was Pansy, and, following right behind, Blaise. She had her brows lifted and grinned. “Holy hell, get a r-”

“Get out, Pansy,” Theo cut her off, fingers digging into your thigh. Though she held Blaise back from standing up for her, she rolled her eyes at his tone and turned to leave. “Lock the door,” Theo called after them and you somehow found yourself giggling. “Theo, you can't just shut your whole house out of the common room.” You felt light headed, slightly dizzy, but you smiled and he managed to return it. “'Course I can.”

He let go of your thigh and walked a few steps, over to what had to be an enchanted record player. With a tip of his wand, it started playing a slow song. Theo looked back at you, extending his arm, offering you his right hand. A small smile played around his lips as he crooked his head to the side. “Dance with me, amorina.” And of course, you took it, let him pull you towards him and closed your eyes as he began to move you to the slow rhythm. Somehow, your head landed on his shoulder, his came to encircle your waist as you moved, barely taking a step.

He would make the stolen night up to you. Every single second.

[sapphire-writes]

Lassoed Heart

summary: You're not ready for Billy to leave just yet.

pairing: Billy x fem!Reader

warnings: 18+/NSFW/MDNI - absolute filth with no plot whatsoever, smut, fingering, oral (fem receiving)

word count: 2k

note: belated Christmas gift for my ride or die @undertheorangetree

note: hope you enjoy!

link to other stories from me!

To be notified when I post something new, be sure to follow @sapphire-writes-updates & turn notifications on 💙

“I’ll be heading out now,” Billy calls from the other room. 

You pout, staring at your reflection in the mirror as you begin to get dressed. Always on the move, your cowboy. Restless that one is. You’d spent the night together, carried over the threshold by Billy after a long night out with friends. You’d giggled all the while as he insisted on carrying you from your horse to the door.

“I can walk—” you’d tried to argue, but Billy insisted.

A night of passion and lovemaking ensued, then much too quickly the morning light came to steal him away. Just for the morning he assured you. He had some business to attend and then he’d be back in you arms. 

Still, any amount of parting from him left an ache in your chest.

“Could you come help me first?” you call to him, facing the doorway.

Billy is quick to enter, buttoning his shirt while he does before meeting your eyes. It's only for a moment before his eyes drop to your scantily clad form, jaw slacking. Your cheeks warm as his eyes undress you further. 

“You look…,” he loses whatever words attempted to come to mind as you turn your back toward him, staring at his reflection through the mirror. You watch as he walks toward you, a lion stalking his prey.

His pupils dilate as you shakily inhale, breasts straining against the fabric of your bodice as your heart beats wildly. A new style, showing much more cleavage than you’d been used to. A change Billy seemed to appreciate. 

“Lace me up?” you murmur, a smile twitching on your lips as he staggers the rest of the way forward.

Hesitantly, he reaches for the laces, beginning to string them through the open holes. He pauses for a moment, fingertips caressing the smooth skin of your back. A shiver rolls down your spine, goosebumps rising on your flesh. A moment later he tentatively pulls, drawing the fabric together. 

“Harder.”

His hands slip as you speak, nerves getting the better of him. 

“What?” He asks, nearly choking on the word.

You wet your lips, trying to hide your smile before biting down hard on your lower lip. How you adore teasing him.

“You have to pull harder.”

Billy leans closer, his chin nearly resting on your shoulder as he turns his lips against the sensitive patch of skin just below your ear.

“Like this?” he asks, just as he pulls, causing a gasp leaving your lips, “that hard enough, doll?”

“Yes,” you answer breathlessly, as his lips skim against the skin of your throat.

“You’re sure?” he murmurs, his words finished with a kiss against your neck. 

Your head falls back against him.

“Maybe a little harder,” you murmur. Billy wraps the silk once around his hand, tugging even harder than before. The bodice tightens significantly this time, the strength of Billy’s hands cinching your waist as small as your body allows. 

Billy hums, securing the silk with a finishing bow, lips still pressed against your throat.

“Thank you.”

You sound more breathless than you’d like, gazing at his expression in the mirror. His hands circle your waist, pressing you flush against him. One hand splays over your stomach and his jaw slacks as he meets your gaze. There’s fire in his blue eyes and you can’t help but reach your hand up to caress his face. 

He’s so handsome. Too handsome, really, your vigilante. 

“You’re beautiful,” he says, voice rough as gravel, hands never leaving you, “God, how did I get so lucky?”

“Shouldn’t you be off?” you ask, ignoring his praise.

He doesn’t answer, simply tightens his hold on you, turning you to face him. His hand cups your cheek, the other resting against your lower back. 

“Billy,” you scold, but your tone is teasing as he drags you toward the bed. He backs up until the back of his knees hit the mattress and he sits with a thud, both hands dropping to your waist. 

“I’ll be quick,” he promises, hands already pawing at your stockings, hoisting one of your legs to rest on the bed.

“You’re never quick.”

“You can’t leave me like this,” he argues, rolling down your left stocking, revealing the soft flesh of your thigh, “Think I can leave without having a taste? Didn’t think you were that cruel, darlin’.”

“Oh, I’m cruel, am I?” you counter, unable to stop your smile, nor the shiver that rolls through you as he leans forward, pressing a wet kiss on your inner thigh.

A breathy sigh leaves your lips as his kisses trail inward down your thigh until he reaches the crease of your hip and hums. 

“God damn,” he murmurs, looking up at you, “You drive me crazy, y’know that?”

You bite your lip, nodding your head. His grip on your leg tightens, and suddenly, his arm circles your waist and he flips you onto the bed. You land on your back with a squeal before he’s on you, silencing your startled cry with a kiss. 

Though his hands are rough he fingers grip your waist affectionately, thumbs brushing against your hip bones. He kisses you deeper, slotting himself between your legs, molding his lithe body against yours. 

You can feel his desire pressing against you, hard and wanting as he grinds against you. Billy is never one to put his pleasure before yours. He kisses you once more before traveling lower, pushing your skits around your waist as his head lowers between your thighs.

You feel a sharp pinch and cry out at the sudden burst of pain.

Billy pokes his head up, hair ruffled and a lopsided curious smile on his face. 

“Where’re your bloomers?”

You grab a fist full of your skirts, thighs spread in invitation as you gleefully bite your lip.

“I must’ve forgotten them. You’ve interrupted me, you see.”

Bully groans, shaking his head before he disappears once more. His warm breath on your aching cunt is the first thing you feel before his tongue follows soon after.  A breathless moan escapes you as you feel his lips circle around your sensitive bud, suctioning around it and lavishing it with his tongue. Your legs shake around his head as he continues, slipping his hand beneath your skirts to join in his efforts.

You can’t stop the cry that escapes you when two of his fingers enter you, bullying your sensitive walls in harmony with his tongue; his perfect tongue, so soft and warm as it presses against your most sensitive part with just the right amount of pressure. 

“Oh god—” there’s nothing to do but hold on, to try and anchor yourself to this world by fisting a handful of his brown curls as you come hard, thighs clenching around his head. 

You feel Billy moan in satisfaction as you come down from your high, before he removes his fingers carefully. He sits up and brings his fingers to his mouth, licking each one clean before moving on top of you, capturing your lips in a sensual kiss. You kiss him back for a moment before pushing his shoulders, urging him to lay on the bed. 

“Let me,” you tell him, eager hands working to free his hard cock from his trousers, “I want to.”

Billy swallows, lips parted as you finally grab hold of him and stroke him, before he nods. You straddle him then, lifting your skirts as you position him against your entrance. You bring your face close to his, lips barely brushing his as you sink down, just enough so the tip of him stretches inside you. 

A soft, ragged moan escapes him, his breath mingling with yours as you sink down further; your eyes flutter shut at the stretch, and you try and savor every inch before he bottoms out completely in your warmth. 

“Christ,” he mutters, strong nose pressing against your cheek. You can feel one of his hands leave your waist and press against your lower back. “You alright darlin?”

Sweet of him to always ask. Your Billy is nothing if not sweet. Your eyes open, meeting his. Strikingly blue, nearly translucent in the low light. A clear brook, how you imagine the sea.

You smile, nodding.

“I’m alright,” you assure, rolling your hips. He’s so deep inside of you, you love having him like this. You’ve never felt so full.

“God you feel good,” Billy praises, “My perfect girl.”

You lift your hips, thighs already burning as you lazily ride him. He lets you set the pace for a few moments, hands just resting on your waist and back. But you feel his fingers twitch after a moment, as if he’s incapable of not being an active participant. 

“Billy,” you moan, head thrown back in ecstasy as his hands snake to your ass.

His fingers dig into the soft flesh as he begins to move you, assisting your rocking motion. He kisses you once before his lips travel down the curve of your neck, leaving kisses in their wake. He finally rests atop your breasts, nipping and sucking the soft mounds.

Pleasure winds a strong current in your lower gut, pressure steadily building as he moves in and out in and out.

“That’s it darlin,” he praises, voice a rough moan, “Just like that, there’s a good girl—“

His mouth returns to yours then after following the column of your throat, lips warm and needy as he kisses you. Your hands tangle in his hair, threading through the soft strands that curl at the base of his neck. Experimentally you tug, earning a groan followed by a soft surprised laugh.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he warns, followed by a swift slap to your left ass cheek, leaving a stinging mark in its wake. 

You answer him with another firm tug, his neck snapping backwards. He growls at that, hands securing themselves to your waist as he flips you back onto the mattress. A surprised gasp escapes your lips, transforming into an elongated moan as he picks up the pace. He slams into you, the sound of flesh smacking against flesh the only sound in the room besides your soft cries.

It’s almost too much, feeling him fucking you like this; so deep, so unhurried, just Billy all over you. It’s consuming, the soft warmth of his skin against yours, the intoxicating smell of smoke and leather that clings to him. 

Billy laces his fingers in yours pressing your hands back against the mattress. You whine, wiggling your hips in frustration as his grip never relents.

“I know,” he coos, his tone dripping with condensation. 

He continues pounding into you, pulling away from your lips momentarily to gaze between you. 

“Look,” he says, and you follow his gaze, watching his slick cock pull out of you, before slamming back in, “Look how fucking perfectly you take me.”

Your lips part, a ragged moan escaping you as you continue to watch his thick cock split you open, each time perfectly grazing your sweet spot.

All too soon you feel the familiar tightening in your gut. 

“Billy—“

“Shhh I know, it’s alright darlin just—shit stop clenching or,” his jaw slacks, eyes squeezing shut as your pussy constructs around him with your building orgasm, “fuck, I won’t last—“

“Come with me,” you beg, “Make me cum, make me cum, yes, yes—“ your pleas transform into a guttural sob as you reach your peak, stars exploding behind your eyes.

He follows soon after, a curse leaving him as his cock twitches within your warm walls. His arms shake as he holds himself over you, and you brush some hair stuck to his forehead. 

“Lay with me,” you tell him, arms looped around his neck and pulling him on top of you.

Billy gives in, the weight of him comforting as he rests on top of you, softening cock still buried inside of you. You stroke his hair as he lays with his head on your chest.

“How long will you be gone?”

“Not long,” he assures, “I’ll be back before nightfall.”

“Do you promise?”

Billy hums in agreement, “I’d never lie to you.”

And you know it's true. But it's not Billy’s word that troubles you. There are a million different reasons he might not make it home. But you don’t let that trouble you now. Instead, you hold him close, breathing him in choosing to believe that there’s no reason in the world he wouldn’t come home to you.

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated but never expected 🩵

[orangetintedglasses]

@forgivenpunishment // one taser might not do it, but what about...?

Holding off a wave of people was no small effort.

Keeping an army off the back of another person while throwing yourself in harm's way, regardless of your strength, was something noble. Something that deserved praise, recognition; the undertaker's efforts would not go unnoticed.

... unfortunately for him, though, it wasn't Vash that they wanted. It wasn't Vash that would be swarmed by fully-amped stun batons and tasers and more bodies trickling in, crowding the hall to prevent escape, or even basic movement that might've allowed him to get the upper hand as some old, croaking voice shrieked don't kill him! We need him alive, he's useless to us dead...!

That had been nearly an hour ago, now, though. Trivial. Shouts and crackles of electricity had been replaced by the din of machines; the hum of glaringly bright surgical lights; the slow, steady blip of a heart monitor keeping track of vitals as six men bustled around the surgical table that they'd strapped him to. They'd cut him out of his clothes to save time, as well; naked save for the various nodes and monitors they'd fastened to him, and a clean, white sheet over his hips that went down to mid-thigh.

Was that sparing his dignity, or theirs? It didn't really matter, did it. No, no, what mattered now was how the subject was feeling whenever he came to again--

[tifa-simp]

Time for more parallel!

The framing of these 2 scenes are quite similar, aren't they?

Remake

Rebirth

They both focus on the condition of Sephiroth, while Remake frames Aerith like she knows that he's still alive, Rebirth lets Tifa questions Sephiroth mysterious 5 years gap absence. Which leads to quite an interesting situation:

Cloud, who used to have his suspicion, is now even more sure of his knowledge about Sephiroth at the end of Rebirth. So he's likely to not gonna change his mind about Seph, as in he firmly believes that he knows the truth. Which, as we all know, is gonna bite him in the ass one way or another.

Aerith definitely knew about Sephiroth more than she lets on. But throughout 2 games, either intentional or not, she refuses to tell people the whole picture and seems to follow her own plan. Seeing the end of Rebirth, let's assume that her plan works. So Aerith had reason to not reveal her full knowledge to the gang and also has no way to tell us anymore with the way she is now.

Which leave us with Tifa with her titbits and intuition against the big mystery. So far she has 3 important questions:

What is messing with Cloud's mind?

What is Aerith's secrets about the future?

What is Sephiroth up to?

And for now, she knows that Cloud believes his unstable mind is due to SOLDIER's cells degrade, that Aerith has her memory taken away by the Whispers, that Sephiroth is fighting with the Planet and losing (at Gongaga at least). But as the story goes, she becomes more lost.

Both Cloud and Aerith are out of question now, so the only one can give Tifa the all answers is Sephiroth. But obviously she won't get anything directly from the man himself. Bold guess, but I think Tifa will involve in some way in Vincent's arc in part 3 since his story is so tightly tied to Sephiroth. No matter how Vincent arc turns out, there's no way Tifa won't get something out of it. Either she knows how he messes with Cloud or what's he been doing in those 5 years.

If Vincent arc doesn't give her all the clues then the Weapons are next in line. She's already had some ideas about the Lifestream works, next is how the multi worlds work. I believe Tifa is smart enough to figure that out by herself. I mean, she comes up with this on her own

Making Tifa our lead will be the right choice since she's in the dark about everything as much as we do while not so blindly determined like Cloud or so omniscient like Aerith. How cool it'd be if we can see Tifa playing detective in part 3 and slowly piecing everything together to clear up all the mysteries, not just with Cloud's memory problem but also Sephiroth's plan and the principle of multi worlds.

Tifa has always been the one staying behind to observe and analyze the situation in 2 games, it's time she steps up and makes her move in part 3.

[quietwingsinthesky]

i do love canon amy & rory but god, does some part of me wish they really had gone with the idea of the doctor picking up a child as a companion (and then later, that child’s best friend with a huge crush on her.) with the rest of the season really not changing at all, except now it’s amelia pond with an angel in her head killing her and lost alone in the woods. it’s little rory who dies and is forgotten and becomes a toy soldier. if this is going to be a fairy tale, then let it be one. children have never been safe in fairy tales.

[martyrbat]

so many of you talk about the cruel adults in your childhood that negatively effected you and caused lifelong insecurity yet you're still perfectly fine with being that mean stranger to any kid that has the misfortune of existing around you and thats just really gross !!!

[ginalinettiofficial]

i am. still just so glad i got out of teen wolf when the cast started falling apart. like season three was such a shitshow from day one and made me INSANE as it was airing and i just could not continue to watch for season four after they killed off or wrote off essentially half the cast and killed all the found family potential and i will admit!!! that seeing crystal reed herself on a new teen wolf story DID tempt me!!!! i am only human!!!! i am not immune to allison argent!!!! but truly i know myself and i know that the show died a horrible death for me over the course of s3 and there’s a lot of good reasons i stopped watching it and those reasons will sustain me through my decision to not watch this new movie

all that said. @ my loyal six followers. please do not be alarmed if i end up temporarily in a teen wolf revival moment. i am not immune to allison argent and the nostalgia of it all DOES make me want to go back and reread all the old classic pack fics from before davis decided to start killing kids left and right !!! i am not immune to the powerful energy of sterek writers, nor to the call of pack-fics!!!!

[dirt-str1der]

I literally cannot get enough of kiryu following sayama around like a little dog because she can arrest him proper whenever she wants and hes just like okay (worried about her because she seems insane and that means hes very interested in her)

[unproduciblesmackdown]

post pitching everyone lives au / coconana treated seriously already getting too long lol like hmm then. imagine the So Niche You're The Only Fic possibilities

[evandore]

i still havent finished this chapter of [REDACTED] despite saying i was gonna finish it last night. luckily i only have two more pages to get through but dear god. its nearly 6k which is a not a lot but considering the average length for every other chapter was 3.5k... and this one started at like 3.2k...😑 i wrote seven completely new scenes in the middle of it . btw

[satorena]

#BUILD-A-BLOB !?

bad ☆ summary. good news? your nephew’s birthday gift to you definitely works. bad news? turns out to be a cranky four armed creature that nags at everything you do. good / bad news? he’s smokin’ hot and you wanna fuck him nasty. seriously, what the fuck.

cw. explicit content. foul language. monsterfūcking. blobkuna to true form!kuna. double penetration. anāl. deepthroăting. cunningūlus. pūssy slapping. bāckshots. belly bulge. creāmpie. degradation (he calls you mean things) overstimulation. dumbification. mentions of drug usage. sukuna speaks like he has a stick up his ass. pōrn without plot. 4.4k words.

rena’s ☆ note. guys i’m giggling so hard at the gif HELP

“the fuck are ya starin’ at?”

technically speaking, you think you’re looking at a seven foot monster with more arms than you can count, more mouths than necessary and much more tattoos than you can see. just a minute ago, this entity had been an ugly formless blob with a singular eye and bucked teeth that sat against your window, forming incoherent sentences as “me want water”, “me need light” or your personal favorite, “me want you to fuck off”.

you’d left to check on your plants momentarily, coming back to your living space to find that the blob had transformed into a . . . human? something along the word that you use very loosely.

he stands tall and proud and very naked— though unimpressed, toned arms crossed and ass cheeks facing the world outside. you can see the reflection of his clenched buns through the glass and— is that a fucking tramp stamp?

“i’m thinking. . . what used to be my birthday gift,” you answer slowly, brows pinched in confusion as your head tilts. it’s below you, sure, but you can’t help staring at what’s below him. surely it’s the weed catching up to you because there’s no way that, “is that— holy shit, is that two dicks?”

“perverted woman,” the man (question mark) clicks his tongue, as if he isn’t the one dressed in his birthday suit, asshole bearing for pedestrians outside to file public indecency on you. “your reaction suggests you’ve never witnessed the presence of two at once.”

“well. . . no,” he stares at you as if you’re the one with four arms and abnormally long legs. you crouch down, index finger scratching at the corner of your mouth to analyze it some more. you were curious, nothing more! you feel the multitude of his eyes trailing your movements, daring you to proceed forward. he truly doesn’t know you.

they stack atop one another, though both sizes are nothing to scoff at. packing in both girth and length, they stand tall and semi hardened, with curves to the right. he’s got prominent veins running all over his skin, mushroom tips an angry shade of reddish brown. frowning, you peek your head lower to confirm following suspicions,

his tone is rough along the edges, “i do not possess four testicles.” damn it.

“boo, you suck,” you sigh, indeed disappointed by the confirmation. you’d think a monster with monstrous limbs and monstrous cocks would own monstrous balls. “whatever.” you stand back up on your feet, though you’re met with hard ripples of glistening abs.

“so like,” you pause, now shamelessly staring at his torso with shimmering eyes. he’s ripped with an eight pack, waist snatched like a motherfucker and skin inked like a colouring book. “what do i call you?”

you think you hear him chuckle, “how foolish,” a mouth then appears on his stomach, to which you jerk back from how sudden it was. your brows jump to your hairline, eyes widening as teeth bare at you menacingly. “it is common decency to introduce yourself firsthand. have you no manners in the presence of a king?”

“a who?” you squawk, overwhelmed by the intensity of the situation. this four-armed freak was a king? from where exactly? you shake your head, as if to turn off your inner monologues and quiet the voices down, “right, right. erm, you can call me y/n.”

he repeats your name slowly, followed by a deep chuckle. the rumble of your name against his voice sends a weird tingle down your gut, as you crane your neck upwards to finally look him in the face.

you gulp. damn it, he was attractive all around. though morally questionable, you found his features dashing. sure, there was the weird thing stuck in the side of his face that resembled a mixture of flesh and wood. and yeah, he had an additional set of slender eyes. however, his facial harmony somehow blended perfectly. his facial structure was sharp all around, from his nose bridge to his jawline, and his ears with pierced.

what more could anybody want?

blame it on the sativa or the fact you hadn’t been fucked in a while, but it was your birthday and you want your birthday gift, damn it. there shouldn’t be anything wrong with that— the pulsing at your core had your thighs rubbing together subtly (you hoped) (he smirked when he noticed your legs shifting) (fuck, he already knows).

“you will address me as sukuna, mortal.” he says instead, one of his arms mounting to grasp at a piece of your hair. he’s beefy, big biceps surrounding your peripherals as they flex hard. he twirls your hair between his fingers, and shit, you’re gonna need his nail technician’s reference.

“you talk like you have a stick up your ass,” your voice sounds distant, as distracted as you are, perverted eyes trailing to follow the bulging of his muscles. even his forearm is sexy, a large vein running course beneath his skin amongst others. “you ask for my name and choose to call me mortal? corny.”

“i am not a product of this time,” he riddles, tugging at the strand in his hold. the searing pain of his tug at your hair has you moaning— in agony or pleasure, who truly knows— and before you know it, he spreads the rest of his large fingers at your scalp, “you say i speak as if i have a stick up my ass,” shivers run down your spine when his fingernails scratch at your head, “but really it is you who wants my stick up yours, huh?”

you blink. how the fuck did he know? “th-that’s not even remotely true—”

“do not lie,” another arm lifts to cup at your face. his index rests beneath your jaw as his thumb sits at your chin. you feel the sharp edges of his nails grazing at your skin, “your scent is rather . . . pungent.”

you feel heat quickly spread to your cheeks and your panties effortlessly dampening. he smirks, dipping his thumb into your parted mouth, before scrunching his nose into a whiff, “ah, there it is again.”

the pad of his thumb swipes against your bottom lip, skin collecting your saliva before rubbing the fluid all over your mouth. you feel the tip of his nail poking into the flesh, and your brows furrow, “and you called me the perverted one.”

“that remains true.” another— jeez, how many more— arm snakes at your waist. it creeps below your shirt and sits at your bare skin, a touch so warm it sends jolts of electricity across your limbs. his hand rests at your lower belly, and when a wet tongue drags itself across your sensitive skin, you clamp your lips down around his thumb in a whimper, “you’re an obedient one. i think i’ll have fun with you.”

your brows furrow as your cunt clenches. his smirk deepens and, fuck you really need to stop doing that, “have fun with me?”

“it has been a while since i’ve fooled around with a mortal,” he hums, slipping his thumb out of your mouth. there’s a thin string of saliva connecting from your lips to his fingertip, and you hate how you already crave the salty flesh back in your mouth. “let us see just how weak the human body truly is.”

somewhere along the lines, you find yourself on your knees in your living room, carpet digging into your kneecaps as your fingers interlock at your back. your jaw aches, to the point of snapping as two fat cocks shove themselves down your throat. you breathe through your nostrils as your mouth is clearly occupied, fat tears dotting at your lash line and dribbles of saliva slipping past your lips and down his cocks.

two of his hands grasp at your head as leverage, hips thrusting up and down your throat. the gags that escape you are pornographic, throat muscles clenching around the intrusion. fuck, the strong musk of his pubic hairs cloud your senses and overwhelm your mind— driving you dizzy in arousal.

“loosen up yer throat,” sukuna commands, though you find it contradictory as another one of his abnormally large hands wrap themselves around your throat. he presses just lightly, as if to trace over the bulge of his dicks inside of you, but the lack of oxygen has your body liquifying in heat. you think you see stars, and your pupils start to dilate. “c’mon mortal, don’t pass out on me now— we’ve only just begun.”

easy for you to say, you roll your eyes, though complying to his orders. shit, it’s really hard to breathe but you can’t deny you love how objectifying all of this feels. bounding your own hands back, kneeled in front of this king, hair grouped up in one hand to tug onto. he was using you as if you were merely a toy for his own pleasure, mushroom tips repeatedly abusing the walls of your throat.

your cunt clenches around air, gushing more of your essence against the flimsy material of your panties. his stomach clenches tightly, as do his thigh muscles, the embodiment of man in front of you, destroying your throat.

fuck, your clit throbs.

the king coos at you degradingly, ruby eyes narrowing down at your figure, “awnn, ‘s it too much for ya?” you feel a wad of spit land on your cheek, and despite the nastiness of the actions, the filthiness has you clenching your thighs together. of course he finds pleasure in your desperation, leaning back further into the couch to cock his head at you, “humpin’ on yerself like a desperate slut beggin’ for a proper dicking. how pathetic,”

you nod your head eagerly, as your mouth fails to express just how badly you do want him. he’s so deep down your throat, you swear you feel him near your heart. the sting at your scalp plus the lack of oxygen and your need to have him stuff you full drives you wild with want— so desperate that tears leak through your eyes, stream down your cheeks and land right at his dicks.

“mhm, i’ll take care of ya,” sukuna cuts himself off with a deep groan, sliding further down into his seat. he shifts his hips deeper down your throat, and you gag terribly loud, “you hungry, mortal? open wide and, fuck, take what i give ya—” another grunt leaves him, and as does thick ropes of cum do.

your eyes widen as you’re greeted with hot cum shooting down your throat. it’s creamy, thick and so, so much of it that you’re certain swallowing it all would be impossible. your cheeks hollow as you attempt in your best efforts to gulp him down, the flavour of salty semen bursting at your taste buds.

“greedy bitch,” he chuckles through a moan, grinding his hips in rotations as he rides down the high. sweat dribbles down the crevices of his abs, stomach clenching hard as he empties his balls in you. “thaaat’s it—shit, not fuckin’ bad.”

when he finally pulls out, you gasp loudly for the sweet air you had been deprived of. your body trembles as you release your own hold, hands flying up to grasp at his thick thighs. your fingernails scrape at his skin as your chest heaves.

“y’re so,” you pant, and you can barely register how broken your voice sounds. did his cocks destroy your vocal chords already? “y’re so fuckin’. . . mean.”

“too much?” sukuna cackles, though he’s nowhere near sounding apologetic. his fingers cupping your face swipe at fallen tears on your cheeks. at the feel of a wet tongue licking at your damp skin, you pout in retaliation, brows furrowed and swollen lips puckered, “better get it together, ‘m gonna stretch that pussy out.”

damn it— he had such a way with words. you subconsciously lean your cheek further into his touch, and the grin he gives you is barbaric, “face down, ass up.”

so yeah, you find yourself with your cheek pressed into the softness of your couch, hips pulled up and thighs spread as sukuna feasts. the panties you once wore stuffed in your mouth, they muffle the wanton sounds that rip out your abused throat.

you feel his tongue lap at your folds hungrily, fingers spreading your pussy lips apart for better access. he tongue fucks into your hole, lips sucking and nibbling at your clit with precision. wet heat intrudes your insides and have your stomach tightening.

fingernails scratching at the couch, your back arches as you grasp at anything for support. having multiple mouths should be illegal— you feel tongues trailing all over your thighs and the dip in your back, you feel them rimming at your backside. you even think you feel one diving into your ass.

“mmph, m‘kunaaa!” you wail, toes curling as you push your hips further into his face. you’d never been eaten out as good as he is, nose deep in your cunt as your insides get devoured. you’re so overwhelmed— your puffy clit secreting essence as a slick tongue flicks at the bean.

a hand slaps once, twice at your ass as another pair of hands grip at your plush flesh. “shut th’fuck up,” he speaks into you, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers up your spine. you roll your eyes to the back of your skull, foot shaking uncontrollably. when the hands cupping at your breast begin tugging at your nipples, tongues flicking the stiff bud, you feel your dam erupt.

“mmfuuuuckkk!” you whine, as your cunt gushes in his face. he never lets up, tongue repeatedly scissoring your hole as he swallows your juices. you’re squirting so much it drips all over his face and down the suede couch, down your thighs. you think your soul had been taken by this damn near succubus with how long it takes for you to come back to your senses.

he pulls back with a nasty smack from his lips to your lower ones, using the back of his hand to wipe at any excess fluids, “sweet cunt,” he praises you, and you weakly whine, body drained of energy as you fall limp into the soaked couch. you’re out of it, bottom lip quivering as your limbs tingle in bliss— you feel your lids growing heavier by the second but sukuna is having none of that, “aht aht— where the fuck d’you think yer goin’?”

you feel pair of hands pull your hips back up and another grab a handful of your hair in a steady hold. you’re immediately pulled up on all fours, and you whimper at the firm blows he lands yet again on your ass.

he lifts himself on his knees, and you feel his hardnesses rub against the curve of your booty, “told you i was gon’ stretch this pussy out— ‘m a man of my fuckin’ word.” and shit, you think you push your ass back against his leaking cocks, dragging the beady fluids all over the softness of your skin.

your back arches sinfully as you spit out the soaked panties from your mouth and onto the floor. the slide of his dicks in between your thighs has your stomach heating in lust, the drags of his tips at your clit reenergizing you faster than you’d like to admit.

“mmhm, that’s it,” he grumbles into the supple skin at your neck, grazing his fangs teasingly at the flesh and his warm breath further dampening your skin. the large hands that cupped at your waist now lean you forwards against the arm of the couch, and you suddenly feel a lot of blood rushing to your brain. your arms feel weak as they support your body weight, your back arches like a cat and legs stretched out—

holy shit, are you hanging off the fucking couch?

“give up and you fall face first onto the damn floor,” the king cackles, as if the funniest joke in the world, as if your cunt wasn’t gushing your essence— begging to be filled and tore apart. your eyes widen comically as your knees buckle just slightly at the feel of his cock rubbing at your clenching hole, “try and keep up, mortal.”

sukuna grips at the base of his first dick, aligning it to your entrance. you hear him hiss as he collects your cum around the circumference of his tip, fingernails digging deep into your waist. fuck, that hurts so good. any further deeper and you’re certain he’d draw blood.

now, you were definitely no athlete the way he took his sweet time teasing you both. you had barely finished coming down from your previous orgasm, and with the excessive blood seeping into your brain, you felt yourself dizzying quicker than you’d anticipated, “kunaaa— hurry, i can’t hold out any longer— ngh fuuuck!”

your nails claw at the wooden floor when you felt him finally bottom out. holy fuck— how many inches was he packing? you could physically feel your pussy stretching out to his size, to accommodate to the intrusion of his ruthless cock into your tight hole. the sudden penetration hurt in a way that had your clit tingling, walls clamping down as if to seize him from moving any further.

“mortal,” he groans deeply, and there goes another spank at your ass. naturally, you clamp down harder. “quit— fuck, squeezin’ so tight. how the fuck am i s’posed to dick you down when you’re grippin’ me like a damn vice?”

“‘s too much!” you argue, though your hips roll around as if to adjust to his unreasonable size. you feel more tears flooding your eyes, and your core aches for a mean pounding. “just. . . gimme a minute,”

“a minute?” he repeats, though his tone is far from understanding. there’s a hint of mischievous dripping from words, and shit, he’s already pulling out. your cunt negates your words, desperately latching onto his length as if to reprimand him from exiting any more. he notices your contradiction, “doesn’t seem like yer pussy needs a minute. gotta tell you baby, i don’t like liars.”

your toes curl as he fucks himself back into you. the moan that rips from your throat is far beneath your ability to stop, and you squeeze your eyes shut. he repeatedly pounds into your cunt, the more the strokes, the deeper it goes. he may as well create an indent in your guts with how intense his thrusts are.

“hnng, ohmyfuckkk,” your back only arches further, the delicious burn of his dick stretching your velvet walls driving your mind delirious. his pace is insane— with every meet of his hips at your ass, you jerk forward, tits jiggling in the process. you feel hands spreading your cheeks for better access, alongside a wad of spit land at your cunt, sealed by a nice slap on your reddened ass.

he’s crushing your cervix. it hurts but you don’t want him to stop. it’s all too overwhelming— the repetitive slaps of his heavy balls at your sensitive clit, the way he digs himself deep into you, rolling his hips to reach all sensitive spots inside your spongy self. god, you can hear how sinful the point of contact between both your bodies as it echoes in the living room.

“creamy fuckin’ pussy,” sukuna grunts, tone so low you assumed he was more so speaking to himself. your wetness had submerged into a thick essence of cream around the base of his shaft, further easing the ruthless slides of his dick into your cunt. you don’t ignore how his second cock twitches against your asshole. “you tryna snatch my damn soul? tsk, greedy slut.”

your arms are giving out. your thighs burn and furthermore— your cunt aches, badly. he’s giving and giving, pounding so mercilessly into your pussy it was as if he were mad at you. you’d never been fucked so profoundly, his tip bullying into you so meanly with the additional mix of blood rushing into your head— fuck, you need a break.

still, sukuna seems two steps ahead of you, slithering an extra arm to your nape and gripping at your hair. two other hands drag your hips backwards in place, simultaneously pushing himself back where he’d once been— snug in the comfort of your warm pussy. “nah, nah, don’t you fuckin’ run away. fuckin’ take what i give you—” he holds you by the hips and lifts you up and down on his cock. you feel your feet leave the couch as a majority of the weight you held onto your palms were lifted. “this is what you wanted. mhm, be a good bitch and own up to your consequences.”

you’re babbling, the idea of you being a toy again for his use, the new angle of his cock protruding inside has drool dribbling down your chin and your eyes rolling to the back of your skull. “too d-deep, feel you in my— nghhh, h-heart.”

“‘s that so?” he chuckles heartily, and your mind is too numb to register the weird sting that grows at your forbidden zone. you’re too fucked out to notice what he has in store for you, “let’s double that shit. pierce right through yer mortal heart and mark it my territory.”

a sharp wail erupts, as you’re now filled to the brim with two girthy cocks. it’s an uncomfortable stretch in an area you were far from accustomed to, but in your current position, you’re nowhere near able to stop him. you’re not too sure you want him too— his cocks rubbing against the thin linen that separates your cunt to your ass.

holy fuck, your brain is turning into mush. he’s fucking into you like a madman— both your holes abused by the same pair of hips diving deep into your insides. your limbs feel numb, despite now being lifted into the air. he’s fucking manhandling you, hands holding all regions of your body still as he grinds his cocks in. what an out of body experience— head and tits jerking to the rhythm his hips set.

your guts are on fire, and you recognize this feeling all too well. the same one that has your eyes crossing to the centre of your face and your wet tongue lolling out of your mouth. your breaths are cut short, your tummy bulging into the shape of the king that’s taken control of your entire being.

holy shit.

“atta girl,” sukuna whistles when you spray him unexpectedly. your muscles clench as does your cunt and ass around his dicks, body trembling from an outwardly orgasm racking over you. sukuna never lets up, your crying only spurring him on more, “oh yeahhh, now that’s an ugly face. hah! turns me on.”

you’re snivelling, and you think you feel snot dripping down your nose. through the window where this creature was once an ugly form on nothingness, you watch your reflection. my goodness— how is he not stopping? you feel like you’re gonna die, your soul getting snatched from various regions, the repetitive strokes of his dicks at your most sensitive areas. holy shit, you’re gonna die.

“c’mon, entertain me some more,” he accentuates each word with powerful thrusts, and in return, receives splutters of more juices. you’re leaking like a damn faucet, dripping down your thighs and soaking your soiled couch. your fluids leak down to meet his pair of balls, now lubricated as they slap more intensely at your abused clit.

you’re left wordless. seriously, arms as limp as noodles as they hang to your side, head lolled forward. your mind feels so empty yet so full, the familiar pain of overstimulation now taking over your body. your muscles spasm violently around him, uncontrollably as sukuna takes and takes more of you.

“thankyouthankyouthankyou,” although not entirely sure what you’re thanking him for, the words slip past your kiss-bitten lips and into the thick air. you feel him press his own mouth at the column of your sweaty back, and your chants continue, “thankyouthankyou—”

“what an obedient lil thing,” sukuna coos, and you feel an extra tongue flick greedily at your tight bundle of nerve. your body begins to seize, stomach caving deeply in as you succumb to the pressure, “who’s my good bitch, hmm?”

“m-me.” you answer so weakly that it unsatisfies him. the tongue torturing your clit now bites down onto the bud and you cry out loudly. shit, you’re squirting again.

“i said,” he repeats himself with more finality. the wet squelching sounds of his cocks bullying at your holes overpower his own voice, and you can’t stop the shaking of your body. and with every pause, his cocks slam further and further in, “who’s. my. good. bitch.”

“meeee!” you hic, drool be damned as it seeps past parted mouth and down your throat. god, this was so above you and yet, here you were, getting fucked like your life depended on it. it hurts, hurts so good that you simultaneously want to push and pull from his embrace.

he holds you up higher, and your legs wrap around his waist with your back tucked into his chest. his hands slide from your waist to your inner thighs, now holding you tight against him. your head falls back onto his shoulder and in the midst of your daze, you feel a fingernail trailing down the slope of your neck.

“yeahhh,” he chuckles darkly, eyes narrowing onto your fucked out figure. his eyes then flick to the imprint of his cock penetrating at your belly, followed by the inconsistent tremors of your body. “‘s what i fuckin’ thought.”

somewhere along the line, you’re left boneless in his strong hold as he fucks and fucks and fucks. he’s everywhere at once, a presence so dominating that you’re left as if you have no other choice but to surrender. but that’s exactly all there is to it, no? a king using his pussy to his satisfaction.

“‘m gonna breed this slutty body full of my cum, make you mine. cause that’s all yer good for— ain’t that right baby?” you nod, because of course you do. he’s pounding some more and more, and the warmth that fills your belly to the brim is anything but surprising. he’s grunting in your ear, a string of profanities flowing into the air. he’s cumming so much from both cocks that it leaks past your bruised holes.

his hips roll some more, and both your cunt and ass clench around him greedily, milking him out for every drop he’s worth. he hums against your damp face, dragging the tip of nose through a multitude of fluids. you have a weak smile gracing your lips, and his arms tighten possessively around your tinier frame, “happy birthday indeed, mortal.”

oh my god, you’re gonna die.

. . .what the fuck did i just write.

[emeryleewho]

I used to work for a trade book reviewer where I got paid to review people's books, and one of the rules of that review company is one that I think is just super useful to media analysis as a whole, and that is, we were told never to critique media for what it didn't do but only for what it did.

So, for instance, I couldn't say "this book didn't give its characters strong agency or goals". I instead had to say, "the characters in this book acted in ways that often felt misaligned with their characterization as if they were being pulled by the plot."

I think this is really important because a lot of "critiques" people give, if subverted to address what the book does instead of what it doesn't do, actually read pretty nonsensical. For instance, "none of the characters were unique" becomes "all of the characters read like other characters that exist in other media", which like... okay? That's not really a critique. It's just how fiction works. Or "none of the characters were likeable" becomes "all of the characters, at some point or another, did things that I found disagreeable or annoying" which is literally how every book works?

It also keeps you from holding a book to a standard it never sought to meet. "The world building in this book simply wasn't complex enough" becomes "The world building in this book was very simple", which, yes, good, that can actually be a good thing. Many books aspire to this. It's not actually a negative critique. Or "The stakes weren't very high and the climax didn't really offer any major plot twists or turns" becomes "The stakes were low and and the ending was quite predictable", which, if this is a cute romcom is exactly what I'm looking for.

Not to mention, I think this really helps to deconstruct a lot of the biases we carry into fiction. Characters not having strong agency isn't inherently bad. Characters who react to their surroundings can make a good story, so saying "the characters didn't have enough agency" is kind of weak, but when you flip it to say "the characters acted misaligned from their characterization" we can now see that the *real* problem here isn't that they lacked agency but that this lack of agency is inconsistent with the type of character that they are. a character this strong-willed *should* have more agency even if a weak-willed character might not.

So it's just a really simple way of framing the way I critique books that I think has really helped to show the difference between "this book is bad" and "this book didn't meet my personal preferences", but also, as someone talking about books, I think it helps give other people a clearer idea of what the book actually looks like so they can decide for themselves if it's worth their time.

Update: This is literally just a thought exercise to help you be more intentional with how you critique media. I'm not enforcing this as some divine rule that must be followed any time you have an opinion on fiction, and I'm definitely not saying that you have to structure every single sentence in a review to contain zero negative phrases. I'm just saying that I repurposed a rule we had at that specific reviewer to be a helpful tool to check myself when writing critiques now. If you don't want to use the tool, literally no one (especially not me) can or wants to force you to use it. As with all advice, it is a totally reasonable and normal thing to not have use for every piece of it that exists from random strangers on the internet. Use it to whatever extent it helps you or not at all.

[lovelivision]

RUIN THE FRIENDSHIP!?

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: geto suguru/reader

𝐖𝐂: 11.9k

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: friendships are hard, especially when the lines are so blurry you can't tell where the both of you stand. so what do you do when you catch feelings on top of all that ??

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ only, smut, angst (?), swearing, making out, annoying drunk stranger, fingering, dirty talk, marking, titty worship, p in v sex, clit slapping, creampie, geto fucks mean, geto is a TEASE, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, f!reader, she/her pronouns used, no use of y/n, i think that's all !!

Being friends with Geto Suguru isn’t hard… in theory but in practice it’s one of the most difficult things you’ve ever had to do. It’s especially difficult because he does things for you that feel like they’re pushing the boundaries of a normal friendship without actually doing anything weird.

Things like his insistence on bringing things for you when you’re feeling down, showing you extra care in how he talks to you, hanging out with you and having frequent movie nights, being attentive to your needs. While those things are innocuous in theory, it’s the way he treats you, talks to you and how it makes you feel that has your friendship feeling like it’s on a precarious ledge. Caught between pulling back or pushing over.

Sighing, your foot kicks at his sitting form, “Don’t you have something better to do tonight?”

“Like what?” His eyebrow raises at you, eyeing your lazy form, spread out comfortably on your couch.

You’d feel bad for taking up the whole couch if you weren’t so comfortable, “I don’t know, like a date? Hanging with friends? Going out on the town or whatever youths do.”

“Firstly, I’m older than you–”

Interjecting to add, “–Not by much!”

He only rolls his eyes, ignoring your interruption all together, “To your other points, I’m not interested in dating right now, and I am hanging out with a friend.”

Sighing louder than last time, foot pushing him enough to sway him, “Aren’t you bored of me?”

“No?” his brows pinching in confusion, “Should I be?” Hand grabbing your foot to stop it from kicking at him.

You pout, trying to pull yourself free of his grip, “I don’t know.”

“Don’t say stupid things,” he huffs, amused by your struggle. “I could ask you the same thing you know.”

“I like hanging out with you,” you grumble at him.

“Yeah, well, I feel the same,” finally letting go of your foot.

You’re feeling restless, he’s your friend, you know he’s your friend, and yet you can’t help hoping that your friendship is just a little bit more special. You groan and kick at him with both your feet.

“Woah, hey!” Both his hands grab at your ankles, pinning them down into the couch, “What’s wrong with you tonight?”

“I’m annoyed.”

“I’ve taken notice,” he’s trapping you with a pointed look, waiting for more of an explanation from you.

If you had an explanation, you’d give it to him but as of right now, you aren’t even sure if you’re aware of what you’re feeling enough to verbalise it to him. You deflate, looking back at him sheepishly, “I know you want to know what’s wrong, but I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Or you don’t want me to know?”

Pushing yourself up, you cock your head at him, “The result is the same despite my answer, no?”

“No.” His tone resolute, “I could help,” he returns.

You deliver a very plain, “You can’t.” He’s the cause of your confusion, talking to him could make it all so much worse and you don’t really want to deal with the fallout of all that.

“Woah, awful dismissive of me, I might be able to fix what’s wrong easily.”

Turning so you’re facing the screen, you try to focus on the plot, “You can fix what’s wrong right now by being quiet and watching the movie.”

“I was watching the movie, you distracted me,” he pokes lightly at your shoulder.

Shushing at him quickly, “Shut, I’m trying to listen.”

He doesn’t say anymore, just goes back to watching the movie in silence, probably following the plot better than you are because you’re sat closer to him like this and can’t help but sneak glances at him.

It’s not fair, he looks pretty like this, face illuminated by the soft glow of the television, seemingly entranced by the movie playing. While gazing over his features, you find yourself constantly looking back at his lips, heart stuttering in your chest. You wonder how kissing him would feel like, would it help, wait.

Prying your eyes off him, you desperately hope to be shown some kind of mercy, you shouldn’t want to kiss him, you shouldn’t be thinking about kissing him. You need to get a hold of yourself.

Unfortunately, you are not shown any mercy and all you can manage to think about is him, how soft his lips might be, how he would kiss you, would he be tentative… or would he kiss you like he’s done it a million times before.

Not even realising you’re staring at him again until he sighs and locks his eyes onto yours, “Are you aware you’re staring at me?”

Trying to play it cool by answering, “I was not staring.”

“Are you alright?” He’s growing a little concerned by your unusual behaviour tonight.

“I’m fine! Good even, just… a little lost in thought is all.” You feel guilty.

“And just what exactly are you thinking about?”

Your skin flares at his question, feeling embarrassed by your thoughts, “Nothing! General thoughts… you know…”

“Right…” He’s clearly sceptical, not believing your flimsy answers for even a second, “Have I done something to upset you?”

He’s too much for you right now, you try answering confidently but fail miserably, “No?”

Moving so his body is facing you, he gets into your space, worried by your answer, “Why don’t you sound sure?”

“Why are you asking me so many questions tonight?” You avoid his gaze, flustered by him suddenly so close to you. Still thinking about his lips on yours, in the back of your head thinking about his hands on your body.

“You’re being weird, I’m just concerned,” his hand reaches for your face, “Do you have a fever or something?” His knuckles rest on your cheek, gauging your temperature.

“Seriously, I’m fine,” you’re fumbling more than you want to, eyes rounded and shocked looking into his.

It feels like you grow warmer the longer his hand stays on your face, it’s becoming difficult to think. If you had a good reason, you would kick him out right now but you’re already concerning him and you’re trying so hard to be normal. This night is taking a very unfortunate turn.

His face twists, concern written all over it, “You feel a little warm, are you sure you’re okay?” Hand slipping from your cheek, moving to rest against the back of the couch.

Trying to keep your answers short, you give a simple, “I’m sure.”

Geto doesn’t know where to go from here, his silence is evidence of that. You don’t blame him though because you’re not really sure where to go from here either, the thoughts of his lips on yours linger in your mind and you feel as if you could die.

“I just…” He looks to you when you start talking, ready to hear whatever it is you have to say, “I was just thinking – and don’t make this weird – but I was thinking about… how you would kiss me…” your words trail off slightly, growing quieter and quieter with each word.

His eyes widen slightly in response before he switches back to his neutral expression, “I–”

“–I don’t wanna know, don’t talk actually,” you cut him off abruptly, too embarrassed to dissect this any further and certainly not willing to have a conversation with him about it, already regretting having admitted to thinking it.

He questions you, clearly caught between being entertained and somewhat concerned, “I’m not allowed to comment?”

“No.”

“Even though you’ve been thinking about how I would­–”

Hurriedly moving your hand to cover his mouth, hissing out, “Shush!”

You’re closer like this, the proximity flustering you, the silence awkward, Geto glares at you from under your hand. He has something to say and is showing clear disdain for your repeated interruptions.

His larger hand reaches up and wraps around your wrist, trying to gently pry your hand away but you hold steady. Growing frustrated with this little tug of war game you have going on, he uses more force to pull your hand down, grabbing your other hand as well. Restraining them both in your lap, keeping you still.

Exasperated when he asks, “Don’t you think you’re overeating slightly?”

“No.” You tug back on his grip but get nowhere.

“Why are you annoyed at me over this? They’re your thoughts,” he reminds.

You’re irritated with how right he is, it’s not his fault you’re thinking like this, but it doesn’t change the fact that sitting right next to him makes it difficult for you to think of anything other than how soft his lips might be, or if he’ll hold you still while he kisses you, or if­–

He barks out a quick laugh, “You wanna kiss me that bad?”

Realising you were staring at his lips again you feel like you might spontaneously combust, struggling against his hold and huffing out, “Shut up, just forget I even said anything.”

He sounds restrained and incredibly serious when he murmurs back, “Might not be able to if you keep looking at me like that.”

“Don’t make this even more embarrassing for me, Suguru! It’s your fault,” you accuse indignantly.

Lips quirking evilly, “Oh? So, you want me to fix it then?”

“You should! Take a little responsibility,” you grumble out at him, all pouty and annoyed.

Leaning in closer to press you, “Do you want me to kiss you? Do you think it would help?”

“I don’t know… I mean…” you look to his lips again, gaze getting a little lost as you do.

If Suguru were being honest with you, he’d tell you how much you’re killing him when you look at him like that but he’s stubborn and a tease, so instead he says, “Eyes up here.”

Dragging your eyes back to his and staring daggers, completely pissed at him but mostly yourself for being so obvious again, “Do you think it would help?”

“You’d stop wondering,” he shrugs easily, like this is all so incredibly normal and not uncharted territory for the both of you.

“I don’t want this to make our friendship weird,” feeling pathetic as you look at him, you’re not even sure if what you have together is as simple as a friendship, it feels like so much more. At least, you’re kind of hoping it is, kissing him could do irreparable damage and you don’t just mean in terms of how you act around one another but specifically how you feel about him.

“I won’t let it,” he assures.

“I’m not worried about you…”

He’s taken aback by your small admission, it’s not clear enough for him to make any real conclusions from it or confront you on anything just now but he knows it makes his heart beat faster and flusters him slightly. In all his years of casual dating and serious relationships, you’re the only person to have ever made him feel like such a fool.

“It’s up to you then,” he smiles softly.

You aren’t sure if it’s worth the risk but if this is the only chance you’ll get then you don’t know if you want to risk letting it go by either, “I think… yes.”

Playing dumb, he asks, “‘Yes’ what?”

Your tone lowers again, confident answer short lived when he teases you, “Yes… I want you to kiss me…”

“You’re sure?” He asks but his hands are already moving up your body, one resting against the side of your neck, touch gentle and light.

“I mean… I’m not sure if this is a good idea but I’m sure I want you to kiss me.”

He huffs lightly in disbelief, breath tickling against your lips, “What’s wrong with you tonight?”

“You…” Frown dusting your features as you utter it, eyes already focused back on his lips.

He doesn’t say anymore after that, faltering in his movements a bit but ultimately moving in completely and pressing his lips to yours delicately. It’s featherlight, kiss shallow and simple, like he’s holding back. It’s still enough to have your head full, full of thoughts of him, of how soft his lips are, how gentle his kisses are.

Geto pulls back all too soon for your liking, putting some distance between the two of you, head cocking to the side as he looks you over, “Curiosity satisfied.”

“Is that really how you would want to kiss me?”

“What?”

At his question you’re suddenly all too aware how bold yours was, “I just… It’s nothing, sorry.” Fumbling over yourself, not wanting to hurt his feelings, “It was nice! It was a nice kiss.”

“No, no,” he squints at you, “Go on… say what you want.”

It’s quiet for a moment, your hesitance clear, “…Did you… kiss me how you wanted to?”

“I think if I kissed you how I wanted,” pausing to lean in closer, “You might pass out or something.”

“Oh, come on, you’re not my first kiss or anything,” you roll your eyes at him and his ego, “I was just curious, if that’s really how you’d kiss me then that’s all there is to it, it was a nice kiss,” you shrug at him.

“Why am I starting to feel like I’m being assessed?”

“If you feel that way then that’s on you.” Trying so hard to play it cool, like you can’t tell he was holding back, like you don’t want him to kiss you more, “Do you wanna go back in the movie? To where we were before?”

As you get up to move off the couch and find the remote, Suguru is pulling you back down to him, one hand gently holding the front of your throat. You don’t get a second to think about all the movements he just made, his lips on yours, rushed, like he’s suddenly, incredibly desperate to kiss you.

Barely able to keep up with him, head dizzy from the whiplash, this isn’t at all how he kissed you before. You’re basically panting against him when he does pull back, allowing you the small moment to catch your breath.

His thumb pulls down on your chin lightly, “Open your mouth more,” his eyes are lidded as he looks at you, tone deeper than before.

Obeying him wordlessly and then he’s kissing you again, tongue in your mouth. It’s all messy and rushed and has you losing your mind. Your arms wrap around his neck, and he pulls your body closer to his, hand moving to the back of your head.

When he sucks your tongue into his mouth and licks at you, you can’t stop the moan that leaves you. Swallowed down by Geto in an appreciative manner, his kiss lingers for a while longer, making you dizzy and thoughtless. He pulls back from you, connected by a string of saliva that snaps when he licks at his lower lip.

The look on your face is dumbstruck, eyes big and wet as you gaze up at him in a dazed manner. It makes him feel feral, not able to help the way he leans back in and presses more short, sloppy kisses to your swollen lips.

There’s a pause before you can regain your faculties enough to say anything to him and even then, the only thing you can manage is, “I… uhm…”

“Was that better?” He’s trying to be light-hearted about it, but his lips are swollen as well, and his eyes are lidded, and he looks… “You didn’t pass out did you?” His head lowers so his eyes catch yours.

Your brain feels fuzzy and all you can think about it how you’ve never been kissed like that before, that you want to keep being kissed like that, “What? No… I just… wow.”

“Live up to your expectations?”

“I didn’t really have any, I was only curious…” Smiling big at him, you add, “But yeah, maybe even exceeded them.”

“You aiming to boost my ego, or did I really kiss you stupid?” He can’t help the way he leans in again, just shy of your lips.

Mouth on yours before you get to answer or refute what he’s accused, you don’t stop him though, allowing him to kiss you fully, deeply. One of his hands on the side of your face, holding you, the other grips at your hip, almost tugging you in closer.

Before you lose focus again, you part to gasp out, “I don’t know if–” interrupted by his lips on yours, hand tangling into his hair to pull him back, he groans at the force of the tug, “Suguru, I don’t think it’s a good idea to keep–”

“–Just another kiss, one more…” breathless in how he asks, mouth hot on yours, tongue already in your mouth.

It’s almost too much, he’s so insistent, he’s kissing you like he might never get to again, like he’s trying to get the most out of this. He might actually have you passing out, it’s not even as if you really want him to stop but that’s part of the problem, isn’t it?

Pulling back, he sucks on your lower lip before nipping at it, the whimper he pulls from you is embarrassing and weak and you’re facing an internal conflict of so many emotions right now but mostly you’re struck by how badly you want to sleep with him.

You hadn’t realised his hand had snuck under your shirt, warm and large against your side, sending a shiver down your spine. The breathlessness you’re hit with has your skin feeling hot as you try to stumble out your words, “I, uh, think we should stop… here.”

“Why? Am I not a good kisser? Are you not enjoying yourself?” A smile creeps onto his face, “You sounded like you were enjoying yourself.”

“Don’t.” Your head tucks down and onto his chest, forehead leaning against him, “Please don’t embarrass me.”

He wraps his arms around your body, embracing you, “Can’t help it.”

You stay like this for probably longer than you should, enjoying the moment too much for someone who’s about to go back to being just his friend.

Geto breaks the silence first, speaking into the top of your head, “Is your curiosity satisfied or are you going to start kicking me again?”

“I can’t promise I’ll never kick you again but yeah… I’m satisfied.”

He laughs against you, “Alright, well, if you’re ever curious again… you know where to find me.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

It’s been about a week since you crossed a line you probably shouldn’t have in your friendship with Geto, and like the incredibly brave individual you are… you have been ignoring him.

Not on purpose though, you intend on replying to all his messages… but then you get nervous and freak yourself out and stop short of sending anything back. From his messages, you can tell he’s getting increasingly more worried… or maybe frustrated… you’re not sure, there is only so much you can infer over text.

Maybe you should reply, looking at his last message that reads, ‘seriously? answer me. today.’ Oh yeah… he’s annoyed, you have no idea how to reply to him, maybe something simple? Or maybe a long paragraph overexplaining yourself… or maybe–

Your phone screen changes to Shoko’s caller ID, saved by the metaphorical bell, “Hey! What’s up?”

She sounds a bit short when she answers you, “Are you coming tonight?”

“Tonight…” You trail off, completely blanking on what the hell she’s talking about.

Her reply coming incredibly deadpan and disappointed, “You forgot.”

“No noo, I would never forget about…” The rest of your sentence dropping off, silence falling over the line.

She fills in the gaps for you, “The stupid party that’s being thrown by our stupid friends to celebrate the stupid event that is a boring, normal, Friday night.”

She already sounds over it and you’re pretty sure she would’ve only just got there, “Okay, well… I now feel significantly better about the fact that I actually had forgotten what tonight was.”

“Yeah well I wish I had forgotten too because this is boring without you.”

“Didn’t you only just get there?”

“I feel like that’s beside the point,” you can feel her eyeroll through the phone, “So, when are you getting here?”

Sighing as you ask, “Do I really have to come?”

Not missing a single beat when she shoots back, “I’m here which means yes, you do.”

You go quiet for a moment, “…Will Suguru be there?”

“You’re more likely to know than me,” she sounds confused, “Listen, I don’t know what happened but surely you don’t think you can avoid him forever.”

“Not forever… just tonight,” you really don’t feel like running into him in person, not when you can barely get your head on straight long enough to message him back.

“I haven’t seen him, and he didn’t sound all that interested when this was first planned so I doubt he will show up.”

“You’re not just lying to get me there, are you?”

“Of course not,” it’s always been hard to tell when she’s joking but you’re pretty sure Suguru isn’t there, if you had been replying to him, you probably would’ve ended up hanging out together tonight just to avoid that pointless party.

Deciding to take the risk, you acquiesce, “Alright, I’ll be there soon, just give me a bit to put on something that isn’t pyjamas.”

Getting out of the apartment will be good for you, that and you’ll have the chance to catch up with Shoko, it’s been a while since you last hung out.

“Just come in your pyjamas.”

“Okay, now you’re being unreasonable,” you chuckle.

She groans through the phone, “Gojo and I just made eye contact, that’s like asking to be trapped in a conversation for at least an hour.”

You smile at her and her exaggeration, “That’s really funny, tell him I said hi.”

“Don’t hang up on me–”

The line goes dead as you hang up on her.

Nearly an hour has passed by the time you get to the party, but when you make eye contact with Shoko across the room – still stuck in conversation with Gojo – it looks like a century has passed for her.

Walking up to them both, you grab Gojo by the sides of his arms and shake him, making a loud noise to scare him as you do. He just about dies then and there, head whipping around to see it’s just you and gripping a hand over his chest.

He’s a little breathless when he scolds you, “You scared the fuck outta me, what the hell?”

“I thought it would be funny,” you smile bright at him, out the corner of your eye seeing Shoko fighting a smile and hiding it behind her drink.

“It wasn’t,” he half pouts.

“It kinda was,” Shoko interjects.

He just continues to pout over how badly you got him.

“Hi Satoru,” you chirp at him, trying to be as sweet as possible for scaring the living daylights out of him.

“Yes, hello,” he fights a smile when greeting you back, and then his face twists as if suddenly remembering something, “Hey! What happened with you and Suguru?”

Taken aback by his abruptness, “What?”

Staring intently at you, seemingly desperate to know your business, “I know something happened, you gotta tell me what.”

Honestly, you would’ve thought Geto would’ve told him by now, seeing as how they’re sort of attached at the hip, “He hasn’t told you?”

“He’s insistent that nothing is wrong.”

“Then nothing’s wrong.”

“I know something is wrong and I also know you’re dodging him because he made me text you to see if you’d reply and you replied within the same minute,” he squints at you accusatorily.

Arms crossing over your chest as you size him up, “You sent me a photo of the cat that hangs out in your neighbourhood as bait? That’s messed up Satoru.”

“I was investigating,” he defends.

“No, you were being nosy, just like you are now.” Something occurs to you very suddenly, “Wait, if you’re here… and I’m here… where is Suguru?”

“Here, obviously,” he shrugs.

Turning, you glare at Shoko who raises her hands in defence, “Don’t look at me like that, I didn’t lie, I really haven’t seen him. I’ve been trapped in conversation with this idiot the whole time.”

“Trapped? That’s so mean Shoko,” Gojo plays up his hurt, sulking and giving her the saddest eyes he can muster. It unsurprisingly has no effect on her.

He’s here somewhere, you need to leave before he sees you. You’re so annoyed at yourself for not connecting that Gojo being here obviously meant Geto was going to be here too, especially since he wasn’t with you.

Spinning, you go for the front door you came through not that long ago, getting it open a crack before a hand above your head closes it. Turning around, you come face to face with Suguru, a very annoyed Suguru. Polite smile painted on his face but his eyebrow twitches slightly.

His weight supported by his hand on the door, leaning down to you, “And where are you going?”

“I was just gonna… head home… get an early night?” Looking away from him as you lie poorly, not able to look at him without thinking about how he kissed you.

He points out, “You just got here though.”

“Yeah, it’s just… not my scene…” In your defence, not a complete lie.

“Really? Because it feels like you’re avoiding me.” He leans down to catch your eyes with his, sick of you avoiding eye contact.

You’re only able to look at him incrementally, eyes flicking from his, to the wall behind him, “No there’s no reason for me to be avoiding you, I don’t know why you would think that.”

“Oh good! That means you can stay then,” face scrunching with his – now – less than polite smile. Clearly growing frustrated with how you’re refusing to communicate with him properly.

You have no excuses to give, nothing good or even remotely believable anyways, “I uhh–”

Cutting you off to give an ultimatum, “–Either we’re leaving and talking like adults or you’re staying right here and suffering through this whole night with me right by your side.”

His choice in wording disgruntles you, locking eyes to say, “It doesn’t cause me suffering to be beside you, Suguru,” you want to make at least that much clear.

He gives you a tight-lipped smile, “Good. Then you won’t mind me not leaving your side.”

Weighing your options, you don’t know what would be better right now. On the one hand you’d get to leave but then you’d have to tell him about how much you’re affected by the line you crossed, about how you’re developing feelings for him that you shouldn’t have indulged in. On the other, you stay but he lingers around you all night and you’re left haunted by all the things you want to say but can’t quite bring yourself to.

“Let’s go back to everyone then,” you smile back at him.

His face drops, “You don’t wanna talk about it that bad?”

“Suguru, you’re looking for answers I don’t even know if I can give you.”

He relents and takes a step back from you, “Fine. But just so you know, you can’t get rid of me that easily.” Waiting for you to want to talk first seems to be his main goal but you can see just how impatient he’s getting.

You ignore his comment and walk past him back to Gojo and Shoko in the other room, they’re both exactly where you left them. It’s awkward, for you anyways, you don’t know about them or everyone else here, but you feel awkward.

It carries on for the whole night, it’s been a couple hours now and Suguru is still just following you around wordlessly. Only speaking to others when spoken too, engaging in some conversation, only to cut it short when you move on.

This really isn’t fun for you, normally not even bothering to come to house parties like this and only doing this as a favour to Shoko but she’s gone home now, and you’re left here with just Geto. You’d leave too, but you have a feeling Geto is going to follow you home, or at the very least make you talk to him before you try leaving and you’re just… so not in the mood.

Sighing softly to yourself as you walk into the kitchen, somehow managing to shake your tail, for now. Taking the small reprieve as a chance to breathe and think, which is cut short when some stranger starts a conversation with you.

“Hi! You’re really hot, do you want a drink? I can make you a drink. I’ve never seen you here before and trust me – I’d remember you.” He’s slurring his words slightly, “So, drink? You wan– I can get you a–”

He’s really forward, and drunk, it’s making you uncomfortable, especially since you’re far to sober and far too annoyed to have to deal with drunk men. “–I’m good, thank you, I’m not drinking.”

“Oh, come on! Jus one drink, it’ll loosen you up,” he moves in to elbow your shoulder lightly, “You’re too hot to be­– to be such a downer, maybe a smile would help.”

Completely unamused and slowly shuffling back away from him, “I think I’d prefer you just leave me alone; I’m not interested.”

“Don– don’t be like that,” he sulks at you.

Your back collides with someone’s front and looking up you can see it’s your missing stalker of the night. As annoyed at Geto as you are, you are endlessly thankful for his timing, physically feeling yourself relax now that he’s here.

Geto glares down at the pushy guy, “She’s not interested.”

“Oh man, I didn’t know she had– had a boyfriend, you know you should keep an eye on her,” the drunk idiot leers at you, “She’s kind of a tease, leading me on,” he shrugs.

Your face grimaces at his words and the way he eyes you, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. Suguru moves in front of you, shielding you from him, his lip twitches at this guy’s words, “Excuse me?”

“No, well… I jus mean she didn’t tell me­–”

“–She said she wasn’t interested, that was enough,” Geto’s tone is growing more irritated by the moment.

“Suguru, let’s just go, it’s fine,” you tug on the hem of his jacket, not really wanting to have to deal with the fallout of whatever may happen if this idiot keeps unwittingly provoking Geto. He tries his best, but he has a breaking point, and he tends to hit it pretty quick when you’re involved.

He glances back at you, “It’s not fine.”

“Okay, it’s not but I kinda can’t stand this guy and this party sucks and I’m annoyed, and I don’t wanna be here anymore,” you feel a little pathetic for whinging but you’re so drained and this guy was your breaking point.

All his attention drops from that guy to you, his hands coming up to either side of your face, taking in how tired you look. Thumbs stroking high on your cheekbones, “Alright, let’s leave.”

Relief in your bones at the fact you’re about to be gone from here, “Thank you.”

From behind Geto you can see the drunk take the opportunity to slip away, apparently smart enough to use this distraction to his advantage. If Geto notices, he doesn’t say anything, clearly done with him, all attention on you now.

He hums at you, asking, “How’d you get here?”

Your eyes flick back to his, “I didn’t drive, if that’s what you’re asking,” you took an uber, you thought you’d either catch a ride with Shoko, or you’d take another uber home.

“You’re riding with me then.” His large hand takes yours, “Come on,” he’s tugging you through the house behind him.

The car ride has been quiet, you can feel your head drooping and your eyes closing, very nearly falling asleep. That is until, you notice Geto isn’t taking you to your house, instead heading towards his.

Turning to face him, you ask, “Why are we going back to yours?”

Without turning to look at you, he replies, “Because you’ve been avoiding me, so I am now forcing you to spend time with me.”

He’s decidedly not funny. Sighing as you try to chide him, “Suguru–”

Finally glancing your way only to speak over you, “–Don’t ‘Suguru’ me, my place is closer and you’re tired, if you weren’t being so weird around me ever since I k–”

“–Shhh, be quiet.” Your cheeks suddenly feel warm at the memory of how insistent his kisses were.

“All I’m saying is, if you weren’t being so weird around me, you’d come back to mine tonight anyways.”

It’s frustrating to you that he’s right, you normally would just go back to his and crash in his bed and then you’d make him breakfast the next morning to make up for the fact that you’d taken up his whole bed.

The only thing you can think to say is a flat, “…Fine.” Crossing your arms and looking out the car window the rest of the short drive.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Back at his apartment, he lends you some clothes to sleep in. It’s all incredibly intimate, showering in his bathroom, using the spare toothbrush you keep here, wearing his clothes, has your friendship always been this intimate or are you just looking at it in a new light.

Leaving his bathroom, you find him in his room, getting his bed ready for you to sleep in, you stand awkwardly at the foot of it, “I’ll just sleep on your couch.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you always sleep in the bed with me.”

“Yeah but…” Your brows settle into a deep frown, “Do you not feel weird?”

He drops the blanket back onto the bed, exasperation with you clear, “I said to you – I wouldn’t let it affect our friendship, and that’s what I’m doing.” Turning to look at you before adding, “You’re the one making it weird.”

“I know that…” You also know that you were the one who said you weren’t worried about him.

His arms are crossed as he looks you over, “I’m gonna shower now, you don’t have to sleep in the bed, but I think you should, you know firsthand how awful that couch is.”

“Go have your shower,” you shoo him out of the room, standing in the middle of it, alone, considering what you should do.

The couch really is atrocious, it’s part of the reason why you started sleeping in his bed when you visited. He always says he’ll get a nicer couch or a blow-up mattress for you, but he never does, and you always end up in his bed anyways.

Deciding you’re too drained to think any harder about all of this, you crawl into his bed and make yourself comfortable. Everything is so frustrating to you right now, have you always felt this confused about your friendship or were the lines blurred for so long that you’re having trouble understanding where you both stand.

The irony of the situation is annoying and almost laughable because if it were about anyone else you’d be hitting up Geto and asking for his advice on it all.

When he comes back into the room, he shuffles around a bit before turning off the lights and getting into bed beside you. You’re lying on your side with your back to him, pretending to already be asleep.

His voice cuts through the quiet of the room, “I miss you.”

Your reaction to it is almost visceral, how are you meant to reply to that. It doesn’t help you feel better at all, only leaving you longing for something you don’t know if you’re allowed to claim.

Your friendship has always been on a precarious ledge but it’s only now that you let yourself acknowledge the disgusting depth of your feelings for him.

You mumble into the pillow, “I’m right here.”

“Then why do you feel so far away?”

Readjusting, you rotate so you’re facing him, not completely prepared for him to already be facing you. Propped up on his elbow, closer than your poor heart was ready for. You lower your head, so you don’t have to look at his face, “I wasn’t purposefully ignoring you, I really did want to reply.”

He pushes, “So why didn’t you?”

“I didn’t know what to say…”

“What can I do to help?” He lowers himself down to your level, head on his bicep.

You still avoid his gaze, “Nothing, you can’t do anything.”

“You’re being–”

“–You are the problem, Suguru, there is nothing you can do to help but get out of my head,” you meet his eyes, frown prominent on your face, “You and your stupid kiss, you made it all a thousand times worse for me.”

“Making out with me was so life changing that you can’t get it out of your head, and you’re annoyed at me for that? You’re the one who wanted to know what it was like.” He’s trying to keep his tone light-hearted but he’s struggling, seemingly growing more irritated by it all.

You grumble at him, discontent, “You don’t need to point out the obvious, stupid.”

A noise of disagreement comes from him, “Well, I feel like I kinda do, since you’re overreacting.”

“I am not overreacting.”

“You are though.”

“No because it’s not just…” you stop short, “…Whatever, I’m going to sleep so be quiet.” He smiles at you like you’re completely endearing, which only frustrates you further.

“The only reason you would be this annoyed is because you want to kiss me again, or more…” his hand reaches for your chin and tilts your head up towards him, “You tell me, are you still curious?”

“Shut up,” you huff out, going to move away only for his hand to slide to your cheek, holding you still.

“You haven’t asked me, you know.”

“What?”

“What if I want to kiss you again? What if I want to do more?” His forehead rests against yours, “You’ve been so caught up in your own head, acting like an idiot over this, that you’ve not even asked yourself about what I want.”

“I am not an idiot.”

“No, but you’ve certainly been acting like one.” His hand slides from your face, down the side of your body, landing on your hip. “At first I thought it was cute, the curiosity, the unawareness,” his hand tugs you in closer to him, body against yours. “But now… now I’m growing impatient.”

Your head feels fuzzy, pressed up against him and that seems to be the only thing your brain is processing right now, “I’m confused.”

“It’s really quite simple,” he leans in, lips ghosting against yours.

You want so badly to kiss him, breath catching in your chest at the way his lips tickle against yours. Your attention solely on the way he might kiss you.

“You like me, and while it’s endearing to watch you fumble your way through the realisation, it’s killing me to know you’re all caught up on how I kissed you and not even being able to get in contact with you.”

“What? What?” Your brain takes a second to catch up, “I do not– you can’t know– just– what?”

“I can know, you know how? Because you’re painfully obvious about it. So honest, telling me about how you’re thinking of me, not able to look at me without looking at my lips,” a light laugh leaves him at your expression, “And it’s sweet, really. But I’m getting annoyed by the fact that you’re so obsessed with your own feelings that you’ve failed to consider mine.”

He’s giving you so much whiplash right now, “You–”

“–You think I kissed you like that just ‘cause?” He frowns at you, “I kissed you like that because I wanted to, I feel I was a little obvious about it all actually.”

“I’ve been so worried about ruining our friendship,” you feel so pathetic when you say it.

“I know,” he presses a kiss to your forehead, “But I’ve hoped for nothing more.” He sighs, “I wanted you to come to me on your own, to talk to me about it but instead you hid from me.”

“What was I supposed to think? Through my eyes, I was stupid and asked you to kiss me just because I was thinking about it, only to not stop thinking about it, and then realise I like you, my friend.” You pull back from him slightly, “How was I meant to talk to you about it?”

“You think I’d kiss just any friend because they simply wondered about what it would be like?” his brow lifts at you, “Don’t you think our friendship has always been a little too intimate to just be a friendship?”

“Nothing was ever said… how was I supposed to know?”

“Okay, well, let me be perfectly clear,” he tugs you in close again, eyes meeting yours, like he’s going to say something incredibly important, only to plant his lips on yours in a full kiss.

Hand holding you to him tight, like he needs you to stay pressed up against him. His mouth on yours hot and consuming, kiss messy, tongue licking at yours. An involuntary moan gets caught in your chest and your hand moves to his hair, tangling in it.

Parting to pant out, “I like you–” kissing you again, “I like kissing you–” lips desperate against yours, “I want to do so much more–” he never parts from you long at all, barley willing to but needing to get his words out.

This is a feeling that you’re never going to be able to forget, the first time he kissed you overwhelming enough and now it’s like he’s completely following his instinct. No critical thinking happening in his head or yours. All your thoughts wash away from you, slipping through your fingers before it even occurs to you to form a thought.

Less scared now, throwing caution to the wind, not worrying about how you should stop, how you can’t ruin the fragility of your friendship. It doesn’t matter anymore, not when he already knows how you feel, not when he seems to feel the same, not when it feels this good.

He mumbles against you, “That clear enough?”

“No,” you huff back, “I think… I’m still a little confused.”

“Well, in that case,” he smirks before kissing you again.

Hand moving to your thigh, sliding it across your skin before grabbing at your knee and crooking your leg to rest on his hip. Leaning into you slightly, using his weight to push back on you, rolling the pair of you until he’s on top. Forearm holding himself over you, other hand still on your knee, holding you flush to him.

You gasp up at him when his erection ruts into your core, lips parting messily, spit connecting the two of you. A shudder runs down his spine when he looks down at you, at how you’re looking up at him. All big, wet eyes and kiss swollen lips, it’s like he feels all his insides softening for you in that moment, in the most sickeningly affectionate way.

His eyes suddenly look lost, and you don’t know why, going to say something only for his lips to land on yours again. Short, firm kisses planted on your lips over and over again, barely able to return them before he’s pulling back, just to do it again.

It’s sweet but it’s frustrating you, your hands are eventually grabbing at either side of his face and forcing his mouth onto yours, lips meshing together, kissing him fully. Tongue in his mouth, your arms wrapping around his neck, fingers playing with his hair. He moans at how you’rekissing him, at how both your legs are now wrapped around his waist.

Practically clinging to him, lips locked to his, your need making your body hot and head fuzzy. You’re trying so hard to not come across desperate for him, but you really can’t help the way your hips seek out his, grinding up into him.

His voice shakes with a moan, breaking the kiss, “–Ohh fuck – hah –” a breathless kind of laugh leaving him, "A little eager, aren’t you?"

"Should we stop then?” You ask with a smile, hands untangling and pushing at his shoulders.

He rushes out, “No no, I didn’t say that,” he pulls your arms, so they’re wrapped around his neck again, “Come back,” a light laugh leaves him, pressing kisses all over your face, lingering on your lips.

“So… you don’t want to stop?”

“Absolutely not, be as needy as you want,” he looks down between where his hips are resting against yours, his cock twitching in his pants, “Hell… be needier.”

“I don’t know… maybe this is all happening too fast,” you say it light heartedly, teasing him, “I mean… we are just friends.”

“Just friends?” He takes personal issue with that, even if he can tell you’re goading him, “Just friends but you’re grinding your pussy all over me?” His hand slips into the front of your borrowed sleep shorts, two fingers rubbing between your folds over your panties.

Gasp leaving you, chest stuttering, “S-Suguru, I–”

“Letting your friend touch you like this, hmm?” He pulls your panties to the side, “Fuck– this wet for your friend?”

Your back arches against the bed when his fingers slip over your clit, struggling to get your words out, “I– mmph– I get it, m’sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” He smiles sweetly at you but two of his fingers are slipping inside you, quirking up and rubbing at just the right spot.

God, your eyes roll into the back of your head, cunt pulsing around his fingers so needily. Hands grabbing at him, tangling in his long hair, gasping for air you don’t really need but feeling like you can’t breathe from how he’s touching you.

“What are you sorry for, pretty?” He wants you back on track, he wants to hear you stumble out your apology to him.

“I-I’m sorry – hnnn – f-for…” your mouth drops open in a moan when his thumb rubs at your clit, “You’re not jus– you’re not just my friend – oh! You’re more– you mean more– Ah! Ah!” You can’t think, not when he adds another finger to your pussy, stretching you so open.

He leans in, fingers not stopping, “You mean it?”

It’s a question made to tease you but with your gooey brain, you look up at him so earnestly and answer, “Mhm, yeah.” Nodding your head firmly at him, even when your eyes look so fucked out.

Soft squelching noises fill the room with how his fingers fuck into you, your cunt clamping tight down around them. Walls so hot and wet that it’s driving him crazy, imagining how it would feel to have you wrapped so snug around his neglected cock.

He wants so badly to rip off your pants, so he can see just how well you’re taking his fingers but you’re pulsing so rhythmically around him, and your eyes roll with how good you feel, making the nicest expressions for him that he can’t even tear his eyes away from your face if he wanted to.

“Oh, you’re really cute right now,” he leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek, his heart stammering at how your wet eyes sparkle at him, at how your bottom lip wobbles.

Pouting up at him, “You don’t– ah! think– think I’m cute all the time?”

“I think you’re downright adorable all the time,” he laughs airily, “But especially right now,” he’s gazing so intently at your face, “Because, I’m pretty sure…” his thumb speeds up on your clit, “…You’re about to cum all over my fingers.”

Oh, how his words effect you so deeply, his tone, the cockiness and if he weren’t touching you so right you wouldn’t find it as arousing as you do but you feel like you could cry from just how overwhelming it all is.

Shaking your head at him as if to say ‘no, you’re not about to cum.’  

“No?” He pouts at you mockingly, “You sure?”

Denying it really doesn’t get you anywhere, especially since he can feel how you tighten around his fingers, how your gooey cunt pulses for him. Your back arching meanly, legs wanting so badly to kick against the air. Hand tugging at his hair as you gasp, broken moans leaving you.

“I mustn’t be doing this right then,” he hums at you in thought, slowing his movements slightly, “Should I stop then? Change up what I’m doing?”

The thought of him stopping now, or changing what he’s doing kills you, almost literally. Your eyes widen and you shake your head vehemently at him, “Don’t stop– hnn– don’t– please,” begging him with your eyes.

“Only ‘cause you begged so nicely,” his tone so sweet on you.

He doesn’t change anything, keeps fucking you with his fingers in the way that’s driving you crazy. His mouth waters at how your pussy gushes for him, dick leaking into his pants, losing his fucking mind at how he’s able to finally touch you like this, how you’re letting him touch you like this, even begging for it.

Muscles pulling taut, hearing and sight going fuzzy, “I– ohh– Sugu I can’t– I’m gonna–”

“You can,” dragging it out in a singsong, “Doing so well for me, pretty.”

Biting on your lip to hold back all the moans tumbling from them, hands pulling at him as you struggle to breathe through it. Chest stuttering as your cunt clamps down around his fingers, pulling him closer to you and planting your lips on his, desperately kissing him as you cum all over his fingers. Tongue licking into his mouth, his own moans spilling into the kiss.

Panting against your open mouth to say, “Just came all over your friends’ fingers,” his smile taunting and bright.

Your head lolls to the side, “So you really do just like teasing me, huh?”

“Pretty sure I said I couldn’t help it,” his fingers slip from your core, sucking them into his mouth, licking them clean in a display so obscene that your skin feels warm.

If he were a lesser man, he’d cum from licking himself clean, groaning around his fingers, mostly for himself but also somewhat to embarrass you. Loving how you squirm, and your face pulls up in embarrassment. All dazed and stupid looking from your orgasm, it makes his heart skip and his dick jerk.

You shock him when you tug your shirt up and over your head, moving to pull at his but he’s too distracted by your tits to make any move other than to lean down and press wet kisses all over your chest.

“Suguru– hah– your shirt,” your fingers still pull at the fabric.

“You can’t–” he sucks and licks at your nipple, relishing in the reactions and sounds he’s pulling from you, “–You can’t show me your tits and expect me to not touch them.”

When he looks up at you, his eyes are lazy and dazed, his tongue drooling all over your boobs. Moving to plant more firm and wet kisses all over your unbelievably soft skin, sucking to leave behind his mark. Wanting to leave behind marks that he will see when he wakes up tomorrow, marks that he will leave marks over so that they never go away, so he will always have evidence of how he touched you. Of how you let him touch you.

Groping at all your exposed skin, pulling at you, fingers tugging at your nipple, while he salivates all over the other one. Your legs tug his hips down into yours, rubbing your clothed cunt all over him, wanting him to fuck you so badly. He’s working you up so unfairly, already making you cum and then playing with your tits in a way that has you itching to be full of his dick.

“Suguru,” he ruts his hips back down into you but doesn’t remove his mouth from you, so you pull at his hair harshly, “Please.”

He moans at how you pull at him, eyes lidded, “So demanding.”

“You’re taking too long.”

He tuts at you, nipping lightly at the skin between your tits, “You’re just impatient.”

“Yeah, I am,” untangling your legs from him, you shuffle your shorts and panties down and off your body, “Are you going to help?”

“How can I refuse when you ask like that?” The desire to lick at your pussy, make out with your cunt, is huge but with how you look at him, so needy and impatient, he needs to shove his dick in you. Now.

When you go to tug at his shirt, he lets you, letting you pull it off him completely, goose bumps breaking out across his skin with how you rake your nails delicately over him. The affection he holds for you feels like it grows tenfold at how you look at him, how tenderly you touch him.

“You’re so pretty,” you’re mumbling it out at him before you’re really registering that you’ve thought it, let alone spoke it.

His head drops into the crook of your neck, “So sweet on me, got me forgetting why I waited so long to say anything.”

You grin at him, “Because you’re stupid.”

“Oh, that’s right,” he sneers back at you before shuffling back to pull his pants off. Finding immense joy in how your smug little smile drops from your face when his cock is free, tip flushed a pretty pink and leaking profusely, precum dribbling down the sides of his dick.

Moving to get up before even really thinking about it, wanting to touch him. Only to fall into the pillows when his large hand pushes you back by your sternum. Looking to him just as he leans in, lips brushing yours so softly you’d think you’d imagined it if he didn’t immediately follow it up with a firm kiss.

“I want to touch you,” hands already finding their way back to his shoulders, his long hair tickling against skin.

His head is dipping low to watch how he moves his hands down your body, brushing against your inner thighs, opening your legs for him more, “Well, I want to fuck you.” He’s not capable of taking his eyes off your gooey cunt, so wet for him.

Goading him with your words, “What are you waiting for? A formal invitation?”

“Sharp tongue for someone so sensitive,” he muses, fingers slipping through your folds, gently over your clit to make you jolt, as if to prove his point.

Not giving you a chance to say another snarky comment, his fingers dipping into your hole again, fingers stretching you open obscenely, pulling back covered in cum from your previous orgasm and fresh slick. It’s almost embarrassing how soaked you are, at least it would be if he didn’t seem almost overjoyed at the sight.

His hand covered in your mess moves to his dick, stroking himself, lubing himself so you can take him easier. Wanting to rub your thighs together, to squirm at how he languidly pumps at his cock, how his brows upturn and his mouth gapes slightly.

Palm warm against your inner thigh, holding you still, moving so he can tap his dick against your clit, smiling at how your body jerks.

“Don’t be a tease,” your hand moves for his, but he grabs at you before you reach him, looping his fingers with yours.

His tone is cheerful and bright, “But you look so cute when you’re frustrated.”

“I’ll leave,” you threaten, not even a little convincingly, way too horny to be taken seriously.

“Really?” He raises a brow at you, intrigued, “I don’t think you’d get very far,” mocking pout settling on his features.

Nothing if not stubborn and true to your word, you push him back and roll to get out of the bed defiantly. Barely making it to the edge of the mattress when his hands are on your sides and manhandling you back into your previous position. Spreading your legs wide and rubbing the tip of his cock through your folds, just dipping into your hole before repeating the previous movements.

Biting his lower lip as he watches, his precum smearing all over your messy cunt, “Told you, you wouldn’t get very far.”

Your head rolls at how he dips his dick in more, beginning to stretch you open, his hips stuttering forwards, hand slapping down onto the bed beside you to stop himself from pushing you too far.

“Oh– oh– fuck! How­– h-how are you this tight, oh,” breathless not even beginning to describe how fucked out he already sounds.

“M-more, Sugu, please– I–”

At your insistence, he fucks himself all the way in, holding his hips to yours as he fills you to the hilt. Your pussy spasming and creaming around him, so worked up that he can feel just how aroused you are in the way you twitch, at how your fingers grab at his skin, how your breath is uneven and broken.

He can’t help but marvel at how you let out little squealed moans, how your cunt stretches to take all of him. On cloud nine at how you’re so horny over how heavy he’s sitting inside you that you’re close to tears.

The moan he lets out is debauched, unbelievably turned on when your hips struggle to grind down into him needily, working yourself up to an orgasm so fucking fast that he can’t do anything but watch in awe.

You can’t stop yourself, you know you should, should slow down and maybe calm down but it feels so good. He’s so big inside you, his cock pulsing in a way that has you memorising the thumping rhythm. Not usually so eager, never this eager, enthusiastically rutting down into him over and over again before suddenly cumming all over him.

Choked and gasped moans pulled from you as your hands reach for him, hoping for him to let you tug him down into you but he’s too busy watching how you pulse and cum all over him. Obsessed with how your cute, little cunt struggles with his size as you coat him in all your creamy cum.

“Holy fuck,” he laughs, “That was–”

Head dizzy and eyes lazy as you whinge at him, “–Don’t– don’t say anything.”

“You came as soon as I got inside you and you expect me to make no comment?”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“I think it was adorable,” he hums, voice strained, much more effected by it than he’s willing to let on.

You whine when he leans down into you, cock somehow reaching deeper. Geto’s arms cage you in either side your head, resting on his forearms, his lips against yours in a breathless kiss. Beginning shallow thrusts, his lips insistent on yours, fucking you so carefully for now.

Quickly, the need to have him fucking you stupid grows within you again and your legs loop around him properly, pulling him into you, wrapping yourself around him, mouth panting against his.

“Fuck– hah– you’re so wet,” he’s fucking into you faster, hips becoming desperate, “It’s actually– it’s– hnn– it’s crazy how good you feel,” he moves his head to the crook of your neck, growling beside your ear, “such a soaked little cunt, taking it so– ohh– taking it so good.”

“Ah! Ah! Sugu, it’s– ohh– it’s– more– I need more,” your fingers dig into his back, depraved wet sloshing sounds of him fucking into you so well fill the room.

He nips at your neck, “Demanding little thing aren’t you?”

He’s pulling out of you and the moan you let out is small and pathetic, disgruntled by his abrupt movement. The last thing you see is his smug grin before he’s flipping you over onto your stomach, hands pulling your hips up and pushing on your upper back, manoeuvring your body into an obscene arch.

Taking his sweet time to slip back inside, eyeing up your pussy and how your hole trembles and drools for him. Your hips wriggle back at him and he finds himself incredibly amused at how blatantly needy you are, apparently honest with him in more ways than one.

Just as you were about to turn around and complain at how long he’s taking to re-enter you, he’s shoving his cock back in all at once, jolting your body up the bed and forcing a moan out from your lungs.

“Ohh– Sugu– I…” you trail off as his hips pick up, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Sliding your legs further apart to take more of him inside, arching yourself even more, greedy cunt sucking him deep inside. He’s barely able to withdraw before you’re fucking your hips back into him, desperately driving back, so fucking needy that if you had half your mind you’d be embarrassed but right now all you can think about is how his dick thumps against your walls, how his hands grip onto you tight, probably leaving behind marks to match the ones he left all over your tits.

Mouth gaping open, spit pooling onto the pillow below, drooling over his cock, God, you could cry from just how fucking good it feels. Pussy spasming wildly around him, the more you think about the fact that he’s fucking you, the more worked up you get. Insides flipping at how he seems to touch the most perfect spots inside you, full of butterflies and him.

His mouth by your ear shocks you, his voice chirpy, “What are you – hah – thinking about, pretty?”

“A-about how goo– good it feels, feels– ohh– feels so good, Sugu,” your words are slurred, mind reeling at how he doesn’t even seem to slow his pace.

“Flatterer,” he barks out a laugh, “You’re quite the little charmer,” he mockingly compliments, tongue licking meanly at your salty tears that you hadn’t realised you’d shed.

“Shh– shut up– ah!” gasping when he gives a particularly mean thrust into you.

He can’t help but smile at the fucked out look you’re wearing, eyes rolled back, dazed and not comprehending anything other than his dick rubbing up against your walls so perfectly. Your face turns into the pillow and you bite at it, muscles pulling tight as another orgasm crawls up your spine.

It shocks you, how quickly you cum, Suguru’s harsh thrusts, your ass burning with the smack of his pelvis against you. The sting biting at your flesh making you feel like you’re on fire, cunt tight around him and orgasm overcoming you so fast that you don’t have time to prepare for it.

And maybe if he hadn’t been caught up in how deliciously you squeeze around him, he’d have time to realise you were coming again and he could stop himself but when you shock the both of you with your sudden orgasm he whines into your back and cums deep inside you. Shivers running down his spine at how it feels, dumping so much deep inside you that the force of his continued thrusts has some of it leaking from you back onto him and down onto the bed, making the obscenest mess he’s ever seen.

Immediately he’s pulling himself back up to see how he’s coated your walls white, his dick covered in your shared cum, creamy and lewd and he’s not even going soft because how could he when you’re still wrapped so warmly around him and when you’re so fucking gooey and snug. He might die before he’s done fucking you yet and he can’t even find it in himself to care even a little bit.

You’re not capable of forming words together enough to think of making a sentence, only thing coming from you being your garbled, choked moans and the sounds of your plushy cunt struggling to take him and all his cum. Pussy bulging with the weight of his cock and the mass amounts of seed he’s just pumped you full of.

His own eyes are lidded and low, pussy drunk and loving every second of it, “So turned on you couldn’t even warn me before you came,” he bites out.

His hand rounds your body and his fingers land on your clit, the overstimulation too much, one of your own hands moving down to try and pry it away, managing to squeak out, “T-too much– ah! Too much, Sugu.”

Tone light when his harsh words are mumbled back at you, “If it’s too much, then why – hnn – why are you fucking back onto me like such a slut?”

He’s so mean, so mean to you while he fucks you so… meanly. Head whirling over how he speaks to you, not even able to think long before he slaps your clit harshly and your knees buckle, falling into the mattress under him. His dick slipping from you as you collapse into the mattress.

Geto doesn’t pick you back up straight away, oh no, because you’re leaking all of his cum out of your little hole onto the bed and he can’t take his eyes off of how much cum he managed to get inside you. It’s you who picks your hips up lazily, presenting yourself for him.

He chuckles at your loyalty to his cock, but he also can’t help the way the sight makes him twitch. Shoving his dick into you again, feral in his pursuit to fuck you, to fuck you full of more of his cum.

“S-so devoted– hnnn– doing such­– hah– a good job for me, pretty,” he slurs.

You feel like you might pass out, so lightheaded but meeting each and every one of his thrusts all the same. An arm wrapping around your front pulls your back to his chest, both his hands landing on your tits, fingers pinching and rolling your nipples, making your pussy shudder around him.

You want to fuck your hips back recklessly but not able to with this angle, only able to arch further and give shallow grinds while he fucks his hips into you. He plants kisses and bites along your neck, nipping your skin hard enough that you twitch and whine each time he does it.

One hand leaves your tit and trails down your front, going for your cunt, spreading wide around where he’s stuffing you full continuously. Getting an absolute mess all over his hand and fingers, only to shove those fingers into your mouth, leaving you to lick him clean. Crammed full by his dick and fingers at once, convulsing around him at the thought of it, at the reality of it.

“You like being stuffed full, huh?” He muses to you, an evil kind of joy in his tone. You don’t get to choose your own response, he’s already using the fingers he has in your mouth to nod your head yes, “Ah, thought so.”

Pulling his fingers from your mouth slowly to watch how you suck on them as he does, before he’s wiping all your spit down your chest to your tummy. And then he has another hand on the back of your neck and is pushing you down into the pillows again, this time he keeps his hand there while he fucks into you diabolically.

Somehow faster than before, relentless, reaching his own end and wanting you to cum all over him at least once more. Head dipping back as he groans out, thrusts harsh and calculated, hitting all the spots he’s just learnt about, having memorised just how to make you fucking squirm for him.

Which he succeeds in, if he didn’t have the hand on the back of your neck, you would’ve crawled up the bed to try and get away from his evil thrusts. Poor abused pussy creaming around him for the fourth time, orgasm blinding you, only seeing white spots behind your eyelids.

The sounds he lets out are wrecked and beautiful and have you wishing that you weren’t cumming so violently if only to see the way he’s spilling inside you for the second time tonight.

“That’s it– fuck– take it– taking it so fucking well– holy fuck–” every word he utters is breathless and broken, essentially fucking himself stupid too.

Taking a moment for himself to catch his breath before he’s slipping from you and pulling your ass cheeks apart to watch how his cum dribbles from your overfilled cunt. You try to wiggle away but he holds you steady, eyes trained on your dipping hole, overcome with the desire to fuck his tongue inside you but instead settling for shoving two fingers inside, plugging your hole to keep his cum in.

You whine at him, and he can only chuckle and find you incredibly cute in your post orgasm bliss. Barely able to keep your eyes open, let alone speak right now.

He does eventually pull his fingers from you, wiping the mess on your thighs before turning you onto your back. It feels like you’re looking up at an angel as he looks down at you, or maybe the devil, all flush and sweet smiles, too sweet for a man that just fucked you within an inch of your life.

“Y-you can’t smile at me like that, not after you almost killed me,” you babble back at him.

He rolls his eyes at you, “There you go overreacting again.”

“You fuck so mean, Sugu,” you accuse… accurately.

A smile grows on his face again, “Feels real good though, doesn’t it?”

You weakly slap at him, he just grabs your hand and tugs your body into his kneeling form, hugging you to him. Pressing kisses all over your face, “Think you can stand long enough to shower?”

Shaking your head at him, “Not without fainting.”

“Alright, bath it is,” he concludes.

He takes such nice care of you afterwards, a complete contrast to how he fucked you. It’s lovely though, the hands that grabbed and pulled at you now delicate as they trace over your skin, washing you clean.  

You rest with your back to his front in the bath, head laying lazily on his chest, “So… for the sake of clarity, we’re not just friends?”

His lips tickle against the tip of your ear, “I can fuck you all over again if you need more proof?”

“I fear you might actually kill me.”

“Then I guess you’ll just have to take my word for it,” he presses a single kiss against your cheek.

In the morning, for the first time ever, he makes you breakfast, to make up for all the marks he’s littered your body with. He also officially asks you on a date, which you pretend to think really hard about even though you’d already decided you were going to say yes.

In the end, being friends with Geto Suguru wasn’t hard… it’s just not what you both wanted.

𝐀/𝐍: this was a while in the making and the vibes of it changed so many times throughout 😭 it was supposed to be situationship but i fear i'm not well versed enough in what exactly one is to write about it properly.... anyways ! i hope you enjoyed regardless and thank you for reading !!! <3

[⚠︎] — 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: do not reupload / repost / translate / plagiarise my works © all works are the intellectual property of lovelivision

[reidrum]

one of me is cute, but two though?

A/N: …no explanation for this i fear. probably ovulating again. stream short n sweet, happy kinktober !

cw: *cracks knuckles* smut 18+ minors dni, softdom!spence, fingering, oral (m receiving), breeding kink, praise kink, marking?, cr**mp*e, edging, aftercare, pet names, mentions of hypothetical pregnancy, fem!reader, a very real research paper that i actually looked up and read, this is filth but at least it’s prn with plot!

wc: 3.2k

summary: spencer can’t wait to have kids with you, in fact he wants to start right now

i love feedback! and talking to people!!! especially about spencer!!! pls interact with me it would make my entire existence okay thank you also this isn’t proofread

Spencer having baby fever wasn’t new to anyone, as the godfather of two of his closest friends’ children and known to be a crowd favorite to the kids at parties, he always had a longing desire to have children of his own to love and raise.

He’ll admit that at the start of your relationship he didn’t know how far the two of you would go, what kind of future was out there for you both. But the more you integrated into his life, his routine, his values, the more he knew for certain he would spend the rest of his life with you.

That brings you to today, you and Spencer were having an errands day making stops at the grocery store and target. As you’ve finished shopping around you both stand in line to checkout, and you’re standing behind a mother holding her little baby staring at you with her big green eyes. Your face melts as you coo gently at the baby, making silly faces and enjoying her little giggles.

A completely normal moment for you, but absolutely world changing moment for Spencer. It’s like something turns primal in him watching you play with the baby. Suddenly he’s picturing you rocking cradles at night, taking your kids—his kids—out to the park, how you’d look with a round belly carrying his child.

He looks at you with an adoration fueled by need, as in he needs to get you home right now before he attacks you in the middle of target.

A gently nudge pulls him from his daydream, “Hey, you okay? Lost you for a second.”

He shakes his head and steps forward to place the items on the conveyor belt and goes up to pay, “Yeah, no I’m okay.” he says mindlessly swiping his card and grabbing the bags.

You furrow your brows and walk to the car, tabling his weird behavior for another time to discuss, “I’m too hungry to question whatever that was right now, can we get pho?”

“Sure, baby. Whatever you want.” He wraps an arm around your waist and presses a kiss to your head before getting into the driver’s seat, absentmindedly still thinking about what your little ones would look like.

After you get lunch it’s a short drive home, but Spencer can’t help but wonder how the hell he got to this point. He wanted children with you, and yet you weren’t even married, not even close to it. You had just moved in with him only a few months ago, but he’s still firm in knowing he wants to spend forever with you.

You open the door to the house, Spencer following behind imagining little footsteps pattering throughout the house, a mini you and mini him. He’s so into his daze he doesn’t see the dining table and bangs his hip against it.

He groans in pain as you rush into the room, “Are you okay? I heard a bang.”

“No, I’m fine I just hit my hip.” He winces in pain.

The suspicion from earlier rises again and you can’t help but bluntly ask, “What is going on with you? You’re being spacey and weird with me. If it’s something I did please tell—“

“Do you want kids?” he blurts out interrupting you.

Your eyes widen, “Wh—what?”

Spencer’s eyes widen too, why the hell did he just say that? “I—um…Okay, not as in right this second. But, is that…something you’d want in the future?”

You pause for a few seconds before speaking softly, “Yeah, it is.”

“Okay. Cool.” He tries to say as nonchalantly as someone who downed an espresso shot.

Then it all starts to click for you, the lingering touches, the looks at the store when you’d see little babies, on walks in the park he’d stare into the playground.

“Spencer…do you… want to have kids…with me?” You ask so softly he subconsciously moves closer to hear you better.

He tries to pull every psychology and behavior tactic he can to read the expression on your face, to decipher what you’re truly feeling, but he comes up empty and is left to grapple with the emotions of the moment on his own.

“Are you mad?”

“Mad? Oh baby, no I’m not mad. Just a little surprised, I didn’t know you felt that way about me.” You move to stand right in front of him at arm’s length, to let him know you’re right there, that you’re always there.

“How could I not? You are so beautiful, kind, and smart. I think I’d be the luckiest dad in the galaxy if my kids turned out like you.” He says softly, grabbing your hand to thumb at the palm in a soothing manner, more to calm his nerves than yours but it’s really working both ways. You couldn’t look any softer to him than right then.

He continues, “I’m sorry if I made things awkward, but I love you, and I want a future with you. House, kids, taxes, all of it.”

You fake gasp, “Even taxes?”

“Especially taxes,” He smiles as he plays into your dramatics, “Like I said, I don’t mean right now. I know there’s like thirty steps we have to take before then. But I’m here for all of it.”

“Spence…” You tearfully smile, “I love you, and I want all of it too.”

Spencer couldn’t be more happy as he slowly leans in to kiss you, lingering so you know just how happy he is. He pulls back and peppers kisses all over your face while you giggle, “Okay, okay!”

He presses one last big kiss on your forehead, cartoonish noise and all, and he wraps you up in his arms tightly.

“So…did something happen today that made you tell me?” You ponder. Of course you’d been thinking about a future with Spencer. but you didn’t know that he felt the same way, and so seriously at that.

He mumbles into your shoulder, “You were playing with that baby in the Target checkout line. And I’m not kidding, all day I couldn’t stop thinking about what you’d look like carrying our child.”

You grin wickedly, “You really wanna knock me up that bad, huh?”

“Sweetheart, you have no idea the restraint I had today to not pounce on you in the middle of the store. I would have risked the life ban in a heartbeat.”

“Yeah?” You glide your finger down his chest, “What did you wanna do?”

Spencer smirks, seeing the game you’re playing. “Well, I was thinking about this book I read on the best positions for maximum fertility.”

“So you read porn—“

“It’s not porn!” He chuckles, “It’s a real scientific study they did in Cambridge about if different positions induce fertility due to the variances in angle of the male ejaculation, and whether it would increase the rate of fertilization. It was actually really fascinating. They had the subjects do it inside the MRI machine.”

You can’t help but feel flustered, “I can't believe that turned me on.”

“I also know that you’re ovulating right now, so all your sexual senses are heightened.”

“I know I should find that funny, but it’s actually so fucking hot that you know that.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders to bring his head closer to your ear as you whisper, “Wanna go try them out?”

Spencer’s eyes darken and he immediately reacts, “Jump.” holding your thighs up so you can wrap your legs around his waist. You giggle a little above his head, cupping it with both hands as you lean down to kiss him while he walks to your bedroom.

He tosses you onto the bed with a squeal before working his shirt off, watching you slowly peel your own shirt off and shimmy out of your pants leaving you bare in a bra and panties.

He lets out a groan, “I think you’re trying to kill me.” He climbs over your body and leans down to attack your neck, one hand holding one of yours above your head the other trailing its way down. A finger traces the outline of your panties, pressing down on the wet patch near your entrance.

You moan languishly and he smirks at your reaction, “I got you, okay baby? Gonna make you feel so good.”

His finger finally slides past the fabric and makes contact with your cunt, gathering the slick and spreading it all over you. Breathless moans escape you, and by the time you’re used to one finger the fucker adds another finger and rests his thumb on your clit drawing soft circles.

The feeling of his fingers sliding so easily in and out of you is terrifyingly intoxicating, and you can’t seem to get enough. He can feel you squeezing his fingers and by your increased moans he knows you’re close, “C’mon pretty girl, you can do it.”

The little praise he gives you is enough to send you over the edge, and you’d be embarrassed at how easily it affected you if you weren’t so overcome with coming down from your peak. You slowly regain your bearing through heavy breaths and look up at him above you with hooded eyes, “Jesus, Spence.”

A wide smirk plasters on his face as he stands up from the bed, “Just getting started baby.” He makes work of his belt buckle and slides it off while you crawl over to help him with pulling his zipper down. You tug his pants down enough to expose his bulge, and you lightly palm him through his boxer.

A deep groan rumbles through his throat, his hands coming up to gather your hair in a makeshift ponytail as watches you slowly pull him out of boxers. He’s achingly hard, tip red and throbbing. You coo at him, “Poor thing, must’ve been painful today keeping this in, when all you wanted to do was come inside me, hm?” a strangled noise leaves him as you continue, “I know you really wanna sink your dick in me, but can I have just a little taste?”

The doe eyes you give him as you speak your lewd words has him nearly teetering over the edge and you haven’t even put your mouth on him yet. He nods vigorously, not trusting words to do him good and watches himself slowly disappear down into your throat, further and further back until he hits something hard and you gag a little. He mutters a sorry that sounds like a half cry half moan, but the way his hips are subconsciously thrusting into you and the hand that’s gripping your hair guiding you so, tells you he might not actually be that sorry.

“Fu—uu—uck.” his head tilts back as the overly enunciated curse flies out of his mouth. Your head bobs with a ferocity on his cock, using your hand to pump whatever you can’t comfortably fit into your mouth. Spencer thinks this is what heaven must be like, that you an angel personified have brought the pearly gates down onto the Earth and blessed him with your mouth.

You continue to take him into your throat for a few more seconds before you feel a sharp tug on your hair that wasn’t meant to hurt but might’ve felt that way with how desperate Spencer needed you off of him.

“What happened?” you ask, voice raspy and confused.

He breathes heavily, “Don’t wanna come in your mouth.” you giggle and sit up on your knees and Spencer closes the distance by reaching for your head in both hands and pulling you in for a long kiss.

“Turn around.” he whispers low, gently pushing you onto your stomach the second your back is to him. The anticipation builds as you can hear him remove the remainder of his clothing, and he climbs over you to unclip your bra and gently pull your panties over and off your legs.

He tosses them to the side and returns to looming above you while you’re splayed out on your stomach in front of him. You get on your forearms and arch your back, letting your ass and cunt be on full display for him knowing this was a position he loved. He can’t help himself but lean forward and swipe his tongue through your folds, groaning at how sweet you taste.

When he pulls off of you, you’re fully expecting his next move would be to finally be inside you. What you don’t expect, is him backing up a little and pulling your legs back towards him so you’re back to lying fully flat on the bed. Before you even have a chance to question him he’s crawling back over you and lowering his head to whisper hotly in your ear, “Have you ever tried this one?”

The long and soft whine you let out goes straight to his cock as he lines himself up at your entrance and slowly pushes in. Pushing past the folds of your cunt that wraps so perfectly around him, he’s in awe watching it enter you. You, on the other hand, are on a different planet from the feeling the new position is giving you. He’s deeper than he’s ever been in you, reaching spots you didn’t even know existed, his hands pressing onto your back so hard you know there’s going to be imprints later.

The moans escaping from you are consumed by the sheets beneath you, his pace unrelenting as he holds you in place and ruts into you.

“Spence..” you whine softly.

The weight of his hands press your body further into the mattress as he leans down right next to ear and whispers hotly, “Yeah, baby?

The emotions builds in you fast and the need to kiss him becomes stronger, “Wanna see you…Need to see you.”

His hips stutter at the tone of your voice, so whiny and desperate, all for him. He doesn’t know how he got so lucky, how he became the object of all your desires, how everyday you wake up and it’s him you choose repeatedly, and will continue to choose for the rest of time. You’ve always loved him, it was a fact you made sure that he knew every single day.

When he flips you over with a gentleness, he leans down to press a chaste kiss to your lips, hoping that the synergy flows between your contact and you can feel it in every nerve ending, just how in love he is with you. He think you got the message as he watches you move your hand between your bodies to grab at his cock and slowly guide back inside you while you both watch him push fully into you again.

He looks down between your bodies and watches his cock move in and out of you, mesmerized by the ring of slick that reappears with every pull out. It’s nearly automatic the way his thumb reaches for your clit and moves his eyes upward to watch you completely unravel at the hands of his touch.

Your brows are furrowed together in pleasure, “Fuck…’m close.” you mutter through a whine.

His hips snap to meet yours rapidly, “Yeah? Me too…” he taps your leg to lift it onto his shoulder, deepening his angle and circling you around the throes of your release. He grunts out, “Gonna let me put a baby in you?”

You clench down on him hard with a loud moan, neither of you expecting the effect his words had on you. Spencer chuckles and bends down to press love bites into the crook of your neck before trailing back up to your ear and whispers, “Didn’t think you’d be into me talking like that…you really want everyone to know who fucks you good every night? Want them to see you walk around with our baby in your belly?”

Your moans are uncontrollable at this point, it’s a miracle you can still hear him over the incoherent, borderline babbling sounds you’re making. He doesn’t relent as his hand slides up your neck to grip your jaw to hold your head in place, “Say it, I wanna hear you say it.”

A whimper falls out of you, “I—fuck—I want y—you…”

His hips slow down their pace, “Not good enough, sweetheart. Tell me what you want.”

The tiniest panic rises in you at the thought of him stopping, “No, don’t stop! Spencer, please. I want a baby, please want it all with you, please, please.” You realize in that moment you were never above begging to begin with, not when he’s between your legs offering you the world from the comfort of your sheets.

His pace quickens and groans at your pleas, leaning down closer so he’s chest to chest with you, “Oh, sweet girl,” he pants, “You’ll look so pretty carrying our kid, gonna drive me crazy watching you walk around.”

A string of moans trail out of your mouth, encompassed by the feeling of him inside you, the thoughts of your future together only adding to the intensity of the moment.

You weakly breath out, “Come inside me, please. Wanna make you a daddy.”

That was all Spencer needed to hear reach his peak and release into your cunt, rhythmic moans punctuating every thrust. Your grip on him tightens as you squeeze out every last drop of him. He feels himself become soft and gently pulls out, watching his come drip out of your hole. With a whimper he delicately picks up the excess with two fingers and enters you again, eliciting a languished whimper to match his.

“I know, I know, baby. Did so good for me, ‘m so proud of you.” he mumbles, watching the white coat his fingers as they move inside you. “Can you give me one more? Just one, I promise. Look so pretty like this, I can’t help it.”

You’re about to protest, feeling the sensitivity get the better of you when the pleasure hits again, another moan escaping you clearly telling him you can take it.

It’s a softer orgasm this time, a smaller peak but still lust filled and has you panting heavily as you come down from it. Spencer finally collapses on the bed next to you, his chest also heaving.

“You okay, baby?” he mumbles after a few minutes.

Words can’t fulfill you right now and all you can offer is a nod as you lazily lull your head over to him. He nods and reluctantly gets up from the bed despite your pout with a promise to be so quick, and returns with a wet cloth, a water bottle, and a fresh set of clothes for you. You let him gingerly clean you up before he helps dress you and slips right back into place beside you with a kiss to your temple.

“I love you…so much,” he whispers while pulling you into his embrace, “I really can’t wait to start a family with you.”

You hum contentedly, tilting your head up to press a kiss to his jaw, “I love you too.”

A few moments pass before he speaks again, “But…you’re still—“

“Still on birth control, baby. Don’t worry.”

[sunderwight]

SV fic where Luo Bingge discovers that Shen Jiu had a long-lost half-brother or something, and subsequently decides that he's going to infiltrate the minor sect which this "Shen Yuan" belongs to in order to get close to him and then indulge in revenge fantasy 2.0 when it inevitably turns out that Shen Yuan is like Shen Jiu (i.e. a horrible abusive scum teacher).

So Bingge uses some magical object or technique or other, makes himself look like a scrawny 12-14 year old, then puts himself in Shen Yuan's path in hopes of convincing the man to take him on as a disciple. The idea being that after Shen Yuan abuses him, Bingge will be justified in reenacting his Shen Qingqiu Revenge Arc again and maybe finally feeling some closure about the whole thing.

Yes, this is a very deranged plan. No, no one is going to tell the emperor of the three realms that. Bingge also wants it to be clear that this has nothing whatsoever to do with his recent escapade in an alternate universe, except that he was inspired to find Shen Jiu's relative as a consequence of that. But he's absolutely sure that this guy is going to turn out just as rotten as his brother, given the opportunity. That is definitely the only reason he is doing this!

Flash forward about four years. Bingge's retainers are begging on their knees for him to actually come back and do some administrative work. The harem is running itself at this point and they're all very terrified of the situation with Liu Mingyan and Sha Hualing (i.e. ruling with lesbian iron fists) and whatever the heck Ning Yingying is up to (no one is certain but it's something). The outer provinces are rebelling. Mobei Jun's somehow found another weird human surnamed Shang to cavort with, except this one is basically running admin for the entire northern kingdom now and no one's even sure if they're fucking or if it's some kind of mind control situation or what.

Bingge is annoyed. He doesn't have a good explanation for why a bunch of demon lords would be showing up on the doorstep of Tiny Cultivation Sect to beg him for anything. They're going to spoil his cover! And they're interrupting his schedule! It's already four o'clock and he hasn't started on Shizun's dinner yet! Shoo! Get lost!

Anyway, eventually some of his demon followers get desperate and dramatically kidnap him. Shen Yuan is horrified and grieved when it seems that his precious disciple, so like white lotus Luo Binghe from the novel, has been captured by demons. He tries to track the assailants down, but they've covered their tracks too well. In the end, there's only one path left to him to pursue: taking this matter to the protagonist!

Yes, the protagonist! Because the thing is, Shen Yuan noticed the similarities between his disciple and the book character he so admired. Not only that, but he did manage to glimpse Bingge one time from afar. It wasn't anywhere near to a real interaction, but it was enough for him to notice the strong resemblance between the protagonist and the mistreated little lamb who showed up at his doorstep. A resemblance for which there can only be one explanation:

Shen Yuan's disciple is one of Binghe's kids!

Yes, he had it figured out since fairly early on. Not only was there a resemblance, and not only were their dispositions quite similar, but also the boy showed a lot of signs of some demonic heritage. Shen Yuan was just working up to broaching the subject, partly because he had been trying to avoid any direct or even indirect interactions with the emperor, and partly because he... became somewhat reluctant to part ways with his student. Sue him! He got attached! And anyway, he knew how missing child plots usually went. There was probably someone in the harem who was out for his disciple's blood, and it wouldn't be safe to send him back into that mess until he was strong enough to look after himself.

But as is inevitable, the plot seems to have reclaimed Shen Yuan's student all on its own.

He just... needs to make sure that it isn't a tragic outcome. It seems it falls on him to make the emperor aware of his son's survival, and subsequent peril, and help launch a rescue!

Which also means approaching Luo Binghe in person, which he knows is very risky indeed, due to his connection to the infamous Shen Qingqiu! He'd been avoiding the protagonist at all costs for that exact reason.

But if it's his only hope of rescuing his disciple, he will simply have to take the risk, and hope that enough time has passed that Luo Binghe doesn't read too much into a shared surname and a passing resemblance. Or that restoring the emperor's long-lost son to him will be worth seem lenience for the crime of being connected to Shen Qingqiu. Maybe if he's lucky, he will even be allowed to continue visiting his disciple! (Ha, yeah right! More likely, Luo Binghe's going to take his head for hiding his own kid from him for so long!)

Anyway, cue Luo Bingge running around swapping between his Emperor and Disciple forms, dramatically trying to orchestrate a situation where he can fake the emperor's death and go back to the sect with Shizun as his disciple, or something, only for it all to blow up in his face because Shen Yuan keeps flinging himself between Bingge and potentially fatal threats that could plausibly kill him???

[revelboo]

I bought this lovely keychain explicitly for my Soundwave themed Jeep at TFCon Orlando and promptly forgot all about it until now. Whoops.

Touch-Starved Headcanons

Megatron x Reader, Wheeljack x Reader, Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, and others. I just like the idea of big mechs coming undone at a little comfort.

Starscream

• Almost always the one to initiate it. Just absently scooping you up while grousing about his day and slowly feeling his tension ebb as he sits with you. And you in turn, relax into the feel of his warm hands and the gentle slide of a servo between your shoulder blades as you sleepily ask questions because you know he likes it. He’ll never admit how much he enjoys these moments, they soothe a need he can’t quite pin down. You’re not plotting against him. Not a threat. Just you and he needs this more than you know.

Megatron

• It’s been a long time since he’s let his guard down. Mostly because he knows the loyalty of his followers is a tenuous, uneasy thing. They might cheer his name to his face, but they scheme behind his back. And he can’t allow himself to really make friends with any of them. Any weakness will just be exploited. Used to hurt and betray him. You aren’t Cybertronian, though. He’s almost sure Soundwave deliberately leaves you with him, because the other mech knows how much he needs it. Slumping on his throne in those quiet moments when no prying optics are about, he cradles you against his chassis. Sometimes he tells you about Cybertron before the war, but usually he just idly holds you, his spark softening.

Wheeljack

• So busy. This mech forgets to refuel and recharge when he’s working on a new project, obsession consuming him. And he’s always working on something. It takes a bit for you to notice the pattern and realize the big guy isn’t taking care of himself. And that’s not happening. You walk across his desk to put yourself between him and whatever he’s working on, head tipped up as his vocal indicator panels flash at you in question. He might not remember himself, but a gentle request to share a meal is never refused. He carefully offers his hand and carries you to find an energon cube and something for you. Recharge is the same, a soft complaint that you’re cold and a light touch on his servos and sure, he’s picking you up to hold because he knows you like sprawling on him, soaking in his warmth. With how explosive his projects sometimes are, most Autobots avoid him. That you want to be around him? Understand that he’s lonely and needs this without making him ask? It means everything to him.

Soundwave

• What with his cassettes and his abilities, he’s never truly alone. Lonely, though? He drifts through the base, the voices of other Decepticons whispering in the back of his processor. There, but distant. But not you. He finds himself gravitating to wherever you are, the strange, chaos of your mind so fascinating. You calm whenever he picks you up, those snarled worries and fears soothed away with a touch of his servos. And his own tension drains away in turn. You give him one voice to anchor to when he’s adrift and in danger of slipping under.

Jazz

• No matter how stressed he is, he keeps that smile in place. It’s part of the mask he wears as a spy-nothing can touch him or put a dent in that perpetual good mood. Even if underneath the surface, he’s so tired of pretending. That exhaustion is always there, trying to drag him under. He can’t let that mask slip, not even around the other Autobots. They need him to be the easy, going spot of sun for the team. With you? His door wings can droop as he toys with your hair or feels your little hands cautiously exploring his much bigger servos. He doesn’t have to pretend that everything is alright. And he needs that so much his spark hurts.

Ratchet

Not much better than Wheeljack about remembering to care for himself. He’s too busy. And while he pushes himself past exhaustion, he’s more likely to take breaks if you’re about. He has no idea how long he’s been in surgery, hands a blur, but as he washes the energon off, he sees you. On the counter, back against the wall sound asleep. And then he’s picking you up, venting when you curl into him with a sleepy sound, smiling as he fusses at you. Humans need sleep. And have you eaten? He’s one to talk, but you’ve invoked caretaker mode now. You protest without any real heat and press your face against his palm and he just freezes before carrying you to his quarters to rest. Because you need him and he doesn’t want to put you back down on that cold counter as you cling to his servos. He can’t.