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enwoso · 2 days ago

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PLAYING FOR MORE | alessia russo

(grumpy universe)

grumpy masterlist

alessia sat on the edge of her bed, her hands trembling as she stared at the pregnancy test. two lines, they stared back at her. her heart felt as though it was lodged in her throat, her pulse louder than any cheering crowd she had ever played in front of.

she had worked hard to get were she was — unc scholarship, a starting spot on the team, become captain, achieve her first call up to the senior england squad. she was a rising star.

and now, well right now she was a twenty year old college student staring down a future she hadn't planned for.

her phone buzzed on the desk, a message from her boyfriend: harrison.

—

alessia's usual type wasn't football players, they were too loud, too cocky, too much trouble.

but yet here she was, tying her boots on the sidelines of the practice field sneaking glances across the turf at harrison reed - the wide receiver who had too much charm and a smile that made her stomach flip.

it started during her freshman year, her soccer practice had run late and alessia sweaty and exhausted from the scorching sun of north carolina had cut across the football fields to get back to her dorm quicker.

she hadn't expected anyone to be there, let alone him.

"well if it isn't the soccer team's star girl herself!" harrison's voice rang out as she passed. she's rolled her eyes — of course he'd call her that.

"hey footbal guy." she shot back, not stopping. the only thing in her mind was the cold shower she was going to have when she got back to her dorm.

he jogged over, helmet in his hand as he fell into step beside her, "you always this friendly or did i get lucky today?"

alessia just snorted, brushing a strand of blonde hair from her face, "depends, are you always this annoying or am i just lucky?"

that should've been it, a quick exchange, a bit of teasing but harrison wasn't the kind of guy to leave things alone, he liked to push boundaries and push people's buttons — be annoying in simple terms.

so over the next few weeks, the end of the school year looming and they kept bumping into each other. in the corridor as alessia carried her books in her arms.

at the athletic center when harrison was nursing a sore shoulder. in the library when neither of them were studying but both of them pretended they were.

it was easy with him. too easy and that's what scared her.

they became friends at first - sort of. harrison would show up at her matches, yelling loud enough for half the crowd to hear as alessia claimed she only went to his games for the nachos but really her heart raced every time he made a big play.

one of the last games before the big final, alessia's team lost. alessia missing a crucial goal which ultimately probably cost them the game.

harrison was the one that found her sitting alone on the bleachers showered as her wet hair sat on her jumper.

"rough game," he winced as he sat next to her as he put a arm around her pulling her into a comforting hug which he knew she needed.

alessia sighed, as she leaned into him more, "yep, i missed an open goal."

"eh, you'll get the next one" his voice was softer than usual, not the usual cocky confidence he wore like it was amour.

for a moment they just sat there, the lights from the field buzzing faintly. alessia tilting her head to loot at him, "why do you even care?"

harrison hesitated, a small smile tugging at his lips, "maybe i like you"

the words just hung in the air, heavy and warm as alessia just blinked. "maybe?" she teased, but her pulse hammered in her throat.

"okay.. definitely" he admitted after a moment of silence, a grin creeping onto his face, "so what do you say soccer star? let me take you out sometime?"

"football. it's football."

"soccer. your in the states now less"

as she shook her head leaving the debate for another time and against her better judgement or maybe because of it — alessia smiled, "your impossible, you know that?"

"and yet your still haven't walked away."

that was the start, they started hanging out more after that. coffee dates between classes even though they'd both get a smoothie. late night calls when the pressure of school and sports became too much.

sneaking out to the quad when they should've been asleep, laughing about everything and nothing and supporting each other at the others games.

but it wasn't always easy. there were arguments, about missed plans, about the attention harrison got from other girls, about how alessia always seemed to put soccer first. the two being too stubborn for their own good.

in the end that was what made it work, the moments which weren't perfect, the times they argued they then made up and were stronger than ever. the late night cuddles and morning practices.

the way harrison would bring her a smoothie after every game, whether they won or lost.

so by the time their final year rolled around, everyone knew they were the package deal. alessia and harrison. the soccer star girl and football hero. two athletes who would do anything to win, but hopeless when it came to each other.

—

haz | 'can't wait to see you tonight, gonna get us a takeout from that taco place you love!'

her chest tightened as she looked at the message, harrison was everything she wanted in a boyfriend, charming supportive and ambitious.

but they'd never talked about kids or families or anything remotely close to this. from their late night chats they talked about their dreams of travelling the world and becoming the best at what they did.

children? that's was a word which never even entered the conversation. and she knew - she just knew this was going to be something he wasn't going to be ready for.

so she did the only thing she could think of. text her best friends: emily and lotte.

—

emily and lotte arrived within minutes, their concern palpable the moment they stepped into alessia's dorm room.

"less? what's wrong?" emily asked frantically dropping her gym bag by the door. lotte following close behind.

lotte, the over observant, noticed alessia's tear stealer face and the white stick lying on the desk. "oh less.." she said softly sitting beside her.

alessia took a shaky breath. "i'm pregnant." she said the words tasting foreign and heavy leaving her lips.

emily's jaw dropped, her expression quickly morphing into one of concern and determination. "okay, deep breath. we've got you, whatever you need. we're here for you, less."

"i don't know what to do," alessia admitted her voice quiet and shaky, "harrison's not ready for this. and my parents? there gonna be so disappointed."

lotte placed a comforting hand on alessia's knee. "first things first, you're not alone in this. no matter what you decide, we're with you. but you need to talk to harrison. you can't carry this on your own."

alessia knew they were right, no matter how strong she thought she was. she couldn't carry the weight of that on her own.

—

later that evening, harrison arrived at alessia's dorm his usual easy smile in place. he set out the takeout bags on her desk, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "what's up baby? you look like you've had a rough day."

alessia's stomach churned, rough day was certainly one way to put it. she motioned for him to sit on the bed, her hands twisting the hem of her hoodie. "haz, i need to tell you something and it's.. big."

his playful unserious demeanour faded, as his face paled, "you're scaring me less, what is it?"

she took a deep breath, looking at him with such fear as she bit her lips, "i'm pregnant."

for a moment, harrison froze, his expression unreadable. then he ran a hand though his hair, letting out a shaky laugh, "wait, are you serious?"

alessia nodded, her eyes welling up.

"wow," he muttered, standing up and pacing the small room, "this.. this wasn't supposed to happen. alessia we aren't ready for this. we barely managing school and soccer as it is."

"i know," she said quietly, "but it's happening, haz. we have to figure out what to do."

he turned to face her, his expression filled with frustration and fear, "look, i'm sorry but i can't do this. a kid? now? we are only twenty for god sake. i just started getting noticed in football. this would ruin everything - for both of us."

his words hit her like a punch to the gut, "ruin everything?" she repeated, her voice cracking.

"i'm not saying it's your fault," he said quickly, "but think about it less, we have our whole lives ahead of us. you've got the england squad, you're one of the best young players at the minute. a baby is gonna change everything, it's not the right time."

alessia just stared at him, her chest tightening with every word, she couldn't believe his words. "so what are you saying? you don't want to keep the baby?"

harrison hesitated, her silence speaking volumes. "i'm saying... i don't think we should."

alessia felt like the air had been sucked out of the room, she had known the conversation would be difficult. she had braced herself for his shock, his panic. but hearing him say it out loud 'i don't think we should' felt like a knife to the heart.

her fingers curled tighter into the fabric of her hoodie as she swallowed back the lump forming in her throat. "haz, this is our baby. my baby. i can't just pretend this isn't happening."

harrison exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. "less, come on be realistic. a baby means we'd have to give everything up. football, school, our future - everything we've worked for. we aren't ready for this." his voice was desperate, like he was trying to make her see reason, but all alessia could hear was rejection.

"you think i don't know that?" she shot back, her voice trembling. "you think i haven't spent every second since i found out thinking about how this changes everything? but it's happening haz, whether we're ready or not."

harrison let out a frustrated sigh and turned away from her pacing again. his usual confidence, his easy charm - gone. now he just looked scared. "there are.. options," he said hesitantly. "we could-"

"no." her voice was quick and firm and when he looked at her, she shook her head. "i can't. i won't."

he stared at her for a long moment, his jaw tightening, "you're sure?"

tears burned at the corner of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall, "i've never been more sure of anything."

harrison exhaled sharply, hands on his hips as he looked away. the silence between them stretched, heavy and suffocating. when he finally turned back, his expression, again unreadable but his next words shattered her completely. in more ways that one.

"then i don't know if i can do this, less."

"what?"

her stomach dropped. he ran a hand through his hair again, exhaling shakily. "i'm not ready to be a dad. i can't be a dad." his voice cracked, but he pressed on. "and if you're keeping it... i don't know how to be part of that."

alessia felt like the floor had disappeared beneath her, her entire body felt cold, numb. "so, what? you're just going to leave?"

harrison's face twisted in anguish, but he didn't answer. that answer was enough.

alessia let out a shaky breath, nodding slowly. "okay," she whispered. "if that's how you feel.. then go."

"less..”

"no," she cut him off, wrapping her arms around herself. "you made your choice. i'll figure this out on my own."

harrison hesitated for a second, like he might say something else. alessia's silently hoping he would say something else. but instead, he grabbed his hoodie and moved towards the door.

he paused for a fraction of a second, then walked out, closing it softly behind him.

the moment he was gone, the first sob broke free from alessia's chest. she curled up on the bed, clutching her stomach, her heart shattering.

she had never felt so alone.

—

alessia lay on her bed, she felt numb. sitting on the bed as his words replayed in her mind.

not ready.

not the right time.

ruin everything.

alessia had managed to find the energy to message emily and lotte. so when they arrived alessia was still sitting there with tears streaming down her face.

"he doesn't want to keep it," she whispered as emily wrapped her in a tight comforting hug.

"of course he doesn't," emily said, her voice tinged with anger but also comfort, the type alessia was craving. "he's a twenty yet old boy who is scared out of his mind. but this isn't just his decision."

lotte crouched in front of alessia, her voice calm and steady. "less, what do you want? not harrison, not anyone else - you. this is your life, your body, your future."

"i don't know," alessia admitted, her voice breaking. "i feel like everything i’ve worked for is slipping away. but.. i also can't imagine just walking away for this. it's a part of me."

emily squeezed her should. "then that’s all that matters. you'll figure it out, and we'll be here every step of the way. harrison doesn't get to decide your future — you do."

alessia's breath shuddered as she leaned into emily's embrace, gripping the fabric of her friend's hoodie like it was the only thing tethering her to reality. the weight of the moment was crushing, pressing down on her chest until it felt like she could barely breathe.

she had spent years building herself into the player she was today - grueling training sessions, sacrifices, endless hours on the pitch. football had been her whole life for as long as she could remember.

and now.. everything felt uncertain.

"i don't know what to do," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "i don't even know how to begin figuring it out."

lotte, still crouched in front of her, took her hands in hers giving them a reassuring squeeze. "you don't have to figure it all out tonight, less. you just have to take it one step at a time."

"but what if i can't do it?" alessia's voice cracked, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. "what if i ruin everything - for myself, for my career, for this baby."

emily pulled back slightly, her expression fierce. "listen to me. your alessia russo. destined to be one of the best footballers in the world, the hardest working, most determined person i know. if there is anyone can handle this, it's you."

"but what if he's right?" alessia asked, her voice raw, "what if this really does ruin everything?"

lotte shook her head, "it won't. it'll change things - yes. but that doesn't mean your dreams are over. your not alone in this less, we'll figure this out together."

alessia sniffled, looking between her two best friends. the unwavering support in their eyes made something shift inside of her - like a tiny sliver of hope breaking through the overwhelming fear."

she exhaled shakily. "i just.. i thought he'd be here for me. that we'd figure it out together."

emily's jaw tightened. "if he can't handle being here when things get hard, then he doesn't deserve to be here at all."

lotte nodded. "you don't have to do this alone, even if he's gone. you have us. and whatever you decide, we're with you - every step of the way."

for the first time since harrison had walked out, alessia felt the smallest bit of steadiness return to her. she was still terrified, still completely unsure of what the future held.

but at least she wasn't alone.

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wendichester · 3 days ago

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₊˚⊹౨ৎ ₊˚⊹ sweet talks & sales pitches,

summary. cj tries to convince you to join the stand

pairing. cj braxton x reader

wordcount. 507

notes. happy jackles day .ᐟ 🩷

“C’mon, just think about it.”

CJ’s voice is smooth, persuasive—the kind of tone that probably works wonders on people calling The Stand for advice. But you? You’re not buying it.

Not yet, anyway.

You shoot him a look, arms crossed as you lean against the brick wall outside the student center. “For the last time, I am not joining your little teen hotline.”

CJ grins, completely unfazed. “It’s not little, it’s a big deal. We help people.”

You arch a brow. “And I help people by not giving them terrible advice.”

He gasps, all mock offense, pressing a hand to his chest like you’ve wounded him. “I’ll have you know, I give excellent advice.”

“You once told a guy to deal with his breakup by watching Rocky and eating an entire pizza.”

“And? That’s fantastic advice.”

You snort, shaking your head, but before you can fire back, CJ moves—quick, smooth—throwing his arm around your shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His body is warm against yours, familiar but also… not.

Because lately, it’s been feeling different.

The way he sits too close, the way his eyes linger a little longer, the way his compliments have started sounding less like friendly banter and more like something else entirely.

Like this.

“You know, you’d be great at it,” he says, his voice softer now, his chin dipping slightly so he can meet your eyes.

You glance up at him, suspicious. “You say that to everyone, or am I just special?”

His smirk deepens. “Oh, you’re definitely special.”

You roll your eyes, but your stomach flips, betraying you.

“You’re smart, you’re a good listener, and you’ve got a voice that people would probably find super soothing.” He squeezes your shoulder, pulling you just a little closer. “And let’s not forget the most important part—you’re really cute, which will absolutely boost morale.”

Your breath catches for half a second before you manage an unimpressed look. “You’re seriously flirting with me just to get me to join?”

He grins, unrepentant. “Who says I need an excuse?”

Your heart does something ridiculous in your chest, but you school your expression, tilting your head like you’re considering it. “If I say yes, do I get to boss you around?”

CJ chuckles, low and warm, his fingers drumming absentmindedly against your shoulder. “You can try.”

You hum thoughtfully. “Tempting.”

His arm tightens around you for a brief second, and his voice drops just a little. “Say yes, sweetheart.”

The air between you shifts—lighthearted, teasing, but charged.

You could walk away. Call his bluff. Keep pretending you don’t notice the way he looks at you.

Or—

You exhale, shaking your head with a small, amused smile. “Fine.”

CJ blinks, like he wasn’t actually expecting to win. “Wait, seriously?”

You shrug. “You wore me down.”

His grin is brilliant, full of something undeniably pleased. “Damn right I did.”

And as he tugs you just a little closer, his fingers brushing your arm, you get the feeling this isn’t just about The Stand anymore.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @taurus0queenie33 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystems ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @funkenniffler ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @lieutenantchaos ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @lovewolfspirit ⋆ @kayleighwinchester ⋆ @s0urw00lf ⋆ @cursednevermore ⋆ @onelonelybitch ⋆ @americanvenom13 ⋆ @iluvdeanwinchester ⋆ @idk6505 ⋆ @devilslittlehelper ⋆ @cloverleaf20 ⋆ @giggles1026 ⋆ @idontwannabehere7 ⋆ @beakaleak32 ⋆ @ocelotlist51 ⋆ @lelapine ⋆ @pwin098 ⋆ @lacysretribution ⋆ @globetrotter28 ⋆ @i-love-gvf ⋆ @lemonswinchester ⋆ @4k1vrr ⋆ @bejeweledinterludes ( continues in the comments )

#cj braxton #jensen ackles #jackles #jackles day!#.docx

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sirxaibs · 24 hours ago

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⋆˚✿˖° ❝𝗜𝘁 𝗙𝗲𝗲𝗹𝘀 𝗖𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗱𝗲𝗱❞ ⋆˚✿˖°

Unintended study breaks

────୨ৎ────

Gojo Satoru X Reader

Geto Suguru X Reader

────୨ৎ────

Synopsis: In a world of curses and power struggles take center stage, you’ve always kept to the simple aspects of life. Focussing on your studies, your friendships and life in the dorms. Though everything changes when Geto challenges Gojo that he can’t win your heart and what happens when Geto realizes that Gojo needs to lose.

WORD COUNT: 4K +words bc i forgot

₍^. .^₎⟆ The second year Jujutsu students myself, Gojo, Geto, Shoko, and a beautiful cute underclass Utahime were gathered in the common area, theoretically doing homework. In reality, we were doing everything but homework.

Gojo, lying upside down on the couch with his legs over the backrest, was dramatically tossing popcorn into the air and trying to catch it with his mouth. He had a zero percent success rate, but he never gave up. Shoko was sprawled across the floor, using a pile of textbooks as a pillow, idly flicking through a medical journal like it was a fashion magazine. Geto was sitting properly at the table, actually doing his homework like a responsible human being, while Utahime sat beside him, aggressively erasing something from her worksheet with the energy of someone who hated their life choices.

I was sandwiched between Gojo and the armrest, trying to copy Geto’s notes with out it being to obvious.

“Pfft bro.” Gojo suddenly sat up (well, tried to he mostly just flopped onto me). “Geto, your handwriting looks like it belongs on some ancient cursed scroll. You a reincarnated sorcerer or something?”

“It’s called cursive, Satoru.” Geto didn’t even look up.

Gojo gasped dramatically. “Oh my god. My best friend is cursed? This is a betrayal of the highest order.”

“Cursed technique: calligraphy,” I added solemnly, earning a chuckle from Geto and an eyeroll from Utahime.

“You guys are so dumb,” Utahime muttered, rubbing her temples.

Gojo gasped again, louder this time. “Did you hear that? She called us dumb!” He clutched his chest like he’d been shot.

“You are dumb,” Shoko said lazily from the floor, not even looking up.

“That’s different! You’re mean in a fun way.”

Utahime threw her eraser at him. It bounced off his Infinity and hit me instead.

“Ow!” I yelped. “I’m just a civilian in this battle!”

Gojo gave me a very serious pat on the head. “Casualties of war, my friend.”

I shoved him off the couch. He landed with a loud oof, but it was impossible to tell if it was real or exaggerated for dramatic effect. Probably the latter. There were very few that he turned his infinity off for.

“That’s it, I’m calling Yaga,” Utahime announced, standing up.

“Oh no, whatever shall we do?” Gojo deadpanned from the floor, not moving an inch.

“Utahime, sit down. You know you’re not actually gonna snitch,” Shoko said, flipping a page.

Utahime hesitated… then sighed heavily and sat back down. “I hate all of you.” Then turns toward you and shoko “oh except you both, you guys can of no wrong ever… except fraternize with the enemy”

“Aww, we love you too,” Geto said with a grin.

“No, you don’t.”

The room fell into a brief moment of peace. I was about to actually focus on my homework when a sudden SMACK!

A popcorn kernel hit Utahime square on the forehead.

Silence.

Slowly, she turned her head toward Gojo, who was whistling innocently, hands behind his head.

“…You’re dead.”

I barely had time to grab my notebook before she lunged at him, and the entire common room erupted into .

Utahime lunged at Gojo with all the fury of a woman who had had enough. Gojo, being Gojo, simply leaned back, letting Infinity do its thing. Utahime’s hands stopped midair, frozen inches from his stupid, smug face.

“Oh nooo, I’m so scared,” Gojo said flatly, grinning ear to ear.

Utahime clenched her fists. “Turn it off. Right now.”

“Nah.”

“Gojo, I swear to-”

“Ah-ah-ah,” Gojo interrupted, wagging a finger. “No swearing, Utahime. You’re a role model.”

“I will end your bloodline.”

“You’d have to get through my Infinity first.”

Utahime looked about this close to grabbing a chair and throwing it at him, which, honestly, would have been hilarious, so I was rooting for her. Unfortunately, Geto always the peacemaker decided to intervene.

“Alright, enough. Gojo, stop being a menace,” Geto said, not even looking up from his notes.

Gojo placed a dramatic hand on his chest. “Me? A menace? Suguru, how could you say that?”

“Easily.”

“Cold. Ice cold.” Gojo turned to me and Shoko, looking for support. “Did you hear that? He doesn’t even hesitate to slander me!”

“I mean,” I said, flipping a page in my book, “you did start it.”

Shoko nodded. “Yeah, and I’m pretty sure you deserve it.”

Gojo gasped. “Et tu, Brute?!”

“Okay, first of all,” I said, setting my pen down, “don’t act like you read Julius Caesar.”

“I’ve read some books,” Gojo huffed.

“Manga doesn’t count,” Geto said.

“I WASN’T GONNA SAY MANGA.”

We all just looked at him.

“…Okay, fine, I was, but still!”

At this point, Utahime had accepted that violence wouldn’t work and decided to settle for a verbal attack instead. “This is why you don’t have a girlfriend.”

The room went silent.

“OH MY GOD.” Gojo reeled back like she’d stabbed him in the heart. “I can’t believe you’d say something so cruel!”

“Well, am I wrong?”

Gojo dramatically fell onto the couch, clutching his forehead like he was about to faint. “I’m young! I have my whole life ahead of me! Besides, love is a distraction”

“More like nobody can tolerate you,” Utahime muttered.

“EXCUSE ME?”

I leaned toward Shoko. “How long do you think this will last?”

Shoko yawned. “Until Yaga finds us or Gojo runs out of stupid things to say.”

“So if it’s the latter… never?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Gojo and Utahime were still in a heated debate about his supposed “overwhelming rizz” versus her “chronic bad taste in men.” Meanwhile, I was hunched over the table from the couch, desperately trying to copy Geto’s notes without getting caught.

“Y’know,” Geto said without looking up, “if you actually studied, you wouldn’t have to steal my notes.”

“I do study,” I whispered back with a glare. “I just study better when the answers are already written down.”

Geto chuckled, twirling his pen. “Uh huh. And how’s that strategy working for you?”

“Well, I haven’t failed out yet.”

“Yet.”

I squinted at him. “Are you rooting against me?”

“Of course not,” he said smoothly. “I’m just saying, if you need help, you could always ask.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Would you actually help, though? Or would you just lecture me about proper study habits?”

Geto smiled. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Before I could argue, Utahime’s voice cut through our conversation.

“At least I don’t actively repel women like a cursed technique,” she snapped at Gojo.

Gojo gasped, clutching his chest like he’d been shot. “What is wrong with you? Why would you say something so hurtful?”

“Because it’s true,” Utahime said.

I turned to Geto, lowering my voice. “Is it bad that I kind of want to see how this ends?”

Geto smirked. “I’d be more surprised if you didn’t.”

Shoko, who had been lying on the floor the entire time, finally sat up and looked at Gojo. “Didn’t you try flirting with a girl last week, and she walked away before you even finished your sentence?”

Gojo pointed at her, looking betrayed. “That was because she was in a hurry!”

Geto and I exchanged a look.

“She was speed walking like she was being chased by a curse,” I said.

“She practically teleported out of there,” Geto added.

Gojo groaned, throwing himself onto the couch. “You guys suck.”

“Not as bad as your game,” Utahime muttered.

Before Gojo could launch a counterattack, the door suddenly slid open. Yaga stood in the doorway, looking like he had already lost the will to deal with us. His eyes scanned the mess popcorn on the floor, a couch war, me mid cheating…., and Shoko still lying down like a corpse.

Nobody moved. Nobody breathed.

“I don’t even want to know,” Yaga muttered.

“Great!” Gojo said immediately. “Then we don’t have to explain!”

Yaga exhaled through his nose. “Just clean this place up.”

“Yes, sir,” I said quickly, trying to look as innocent as possible.

He gave us one last look a “I regret everything look” before leaving. The second the door shut, everyone exhaled in relief.

“That was a close one,” I muttered, stretching my arms.

“For you guys,” Utahime huffed. “He probably blames me for not keeping you idiots in line.”

“You could fun away and report gojo. Maybe there might be some balance for once” Geto suggested.

“I should,” she muttered, not realizing the diss thrown at her. “But then I’d have to listen to him whine about it for weeks.”

Gojo sat up, grinning. “You know me so well.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

Gojo turned to me, grinning. “Speaking of whining”

I blinked. “I’m sorry?”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’ve been copying Geto’s notes this whole time, haven’t you?”

“Uh.” I quickly slapped my notebook shut. “No?”

Geto smirked, resting his chin on his hand. “You totally have.”

“Et tu, Suguru?” I gasped, mocking Gojo from earlier.

“You did steal my notes,” Geto said. “I’m just stating facts.”

Gojo scoffed. “You should’ve copied my notes.”

Utahime snorted. “Like you have anything worth copying.”

“Excuse you, I am a genius,” Gojo said, flipping his nonexistent long hair.

Shoko held up a test paper. “Dude, you got a 42 on the last history quiz.”

Gojo waved a hand. “Pfft, history is for nerds.”

“You’re literally failing.”

“Okay, but in my defense”

“No,” Geto and I said at the same time.

Gojo gasped dramatically. “Wow. No faith in me. I am shattered.”

“Good. Stay that way,” Utahime said, picking up her notes.

I turned to Geto. “Do you think if we actually ignored him for long enough, he’d just disappear?”

Geto chuckled. “Doubtful. He’d probably just start singing for attention.”

“First of all, rude,” Gojo said. “Second of all-”

He started humming loudly, off-key, and obnoxious.

“Shoko,” I deadpanned, “do you still have that chloroform from your medical kit?”

Shoko sighed. “Sadly, I used it all.”

And just like that, our study session once again devolved into . Gojo, of course, took zero hints and continued humming except now, he had started tapping his pen against the table like some kind of makeshift drum.

I turned to Geto. “If we don’t stop him now, this will escalate into full-blown karaoke.”

Geto sighed, flipping a page in his book. “I know.”

“I can feel him about to start beatboxing.”

“You underestimate me,” Gojo said, pointing at me with his pen. “I was gonna freestyle.”

“Oh my God,” Utahime muttered.

“Yo check it ” Gojo slapped the table like a DJ soundboard. “Name’s Gojo Satoru, and I’m here to say”

“No,” Geto and I both said at the same time.

Gojo ignored us. “I’m the strongest sorcerer in every way”

“Shoko,” I cut in. “Is there really nothing in your med kit strong enough to knock him out?”

Shoko, who was sipping from a juice box like she had long since given up, shook her head. “Nah. We’d need industrial grade sedatives.”

I groaned. “We were so close.”

Geto sighed, rubbing his temple. “Alright, let’s get this over with.” He reached out, grabbed the eraser I had totally been using for notes, and casually chucked it at Gojo’s forehead.

It bounced off with a soft thud.

Gojo immediately stopped rapping. He blinked, processing what had just happened.

“Did you just throw an eraser at me?”

“Yes,” Geto said, already turning back to his book. “And I’ll do it again.”

Gojo looked at me. “Did you see that?”

“I did.”

“And you’re just okay with this?”

“I actively support it.”

“Wow. No loyalty. You wound me.”

“You’ll live,” I said.

“I could die from heartbreak, you know.”

I stared at him. “That would be the dumbest cause of death I’ve ever heard.”

“It happens to dogs all the time”

“You’d be a moron,” Utahime corrected.

Gojo ignored her, turning back to me with his signature grin. “Y’know, if you wanted my attention that badly, you could’ve just asked instead of teaming up with Geto to attack me.”

I deadpanned. “You were the one freestyling about yourself unprovoked.”

“Because you inspire me,” he shot back, winking.

I stared at him. “Did you just try to spin that into flirting?”

Gojo leaned in slightly. “Is it working?”

Geto flicked another eraser at him. “No.”

Gojo yelped, dodging this time. “HEY—”

“Well,then ” Gojo said cheerfully, “we should probably get back to studying.”

“You’re the reason we’re in trouble,” Utahime snapped.

I sighed, finally opening my textbook for real. “Okay. Fine. Studying. Let’s go.”

Gojo turned to me, grinning. “You wanna sit next to me?”

“No.”

“Cold.”

Geto smirked, nudging me. “He’s gonna be annoying until you agree, you know.”

“I know,” I muttered.

And just like that, our study session actually started.

Then Gojo got bored again.

For about five minutes, there was actual, real silence.

I was finally getting through the first few pages of my textbook. Utahime was scribbling notes, muttering to herself. Shoko had somehow managed to study while still lying on the floor. Geto was flipping through his book, and Gojo.

Wait.

I slowly looked up from my textbook. Gojo was quiet. Too quiet. I glanced at Geto, who immediately caught my look. He sighed, barely tilting his head toward Gojo. Check on him.

I turned.

Gojo was sitting next to me, pretending to read, but his page hadn’t changed in five minutes. His pen was in his mouth. And he was staring directly at me.

I blinked. “…What?”

Gojo grinned. “Nothing.”

I squinted. “Then why are you staring at me like that?”

“I just like looking at you.”

Utahime immediately gagged. “Oh my God.”

Geto coughed, very obviously covering a laugh.

Shoko, still on the floor, just sipped her juice box.

I groaned, rubbing my face. “Gojo-”

“Satoru,” he corrected. “We’re close enough for first names, aren’t we?”

I stared at him. “No.” ironically enough you call him satoru everyday but in solidarity for utahime you had too.

Gojo dramatically gasped. “After everything we’ve been through?”

“What have we been through?” I asked flatly.

Utahime sighed. “Can we please just study?”

Gojo leaned toward me, resting his chin on his hand. “I would if I had some motivation, y’know?”

“Your motivation is not failing,” Geto said.

Gojo ignored him. “Maybe if someone gave me a little reward for my hard work—”

I grabbed an eraser and shoved it into his mouth.

“Mmfh—!” Gojo spit it out, coughing. “You just fed me rubber!”

“Oops.” I smiled. “My hand slipped.”

Gojo wiped his tongue with his sleeve, pouting. “I hope you know you just kissed me indirectly.”

I stared at him. “Gojo, I will throw you out of this room. Thats not even now that works. It just touched my hand”

Gojo wiggled his eyebrows. “You want to be alone with me that badly?”

Utahime immediately launched her pen at his head.

Gojo ducked, laughing. “Hey! Violence isn’t the answer”

“I swear to God”

The door slammed open again.

Everyone froze.

Yaga stood in the doorway. Again.

His eye twitched.

Utahime immediately pointed at Gojo. “IT WAS HIM.”

Yaga slowly inhaled. Exhaled. “I don’t care. I don’t care. But if you all don’t shut up and actually study” His voice dropped. “You will be running laps until the sun rises.”

Utahime, Geto, and I immediately sat up straight.

“Yes, sir,” we all said in unison.

Yaga shut the door.

Silence.

Then, Gojo leaned toward me and whispered, “Wanna fake an injury to get out of this?”

I grabbed another eraser.

Gojo yelped.

And the study session continued.

—————

the common room had mostly cleared out. Utahime had stormed off first, muttering about how she was never studying with idiots again a bold faced lie, considering she always came back, no matter how much she complained. Then, you had left, still grumbling about not finishing copying Geto’s notes.

Which left just Gojo, Geto, and Shoko in the now technically cleaner, but still slightly chaotic, common room. The table was strewn with abandoned papers, a couple of open textbooks, and a suspiciously high number of empty juice boxes thanks to Shoko’s seemingly endless supply.

Gojo groaned as he flopped onto the couch like he had just fought a life or death battle, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Man, I really gave it my all in there.”

Geto, who hadn’t moved from his spot at the table, barely glanced up from his book. He was always the responsible one, making sure at least one of them actually retained knowledge from these sessions. “You didn’t study at all.”

Gojo peeked out from under his arm with a lazy grin. “I tried, Suguru. I really did.”

Not entirely true. He had opened his book once. That should count for something.

“But some things just aren’t meant to be,” he added with a dramatic sigh.

Shoko, still lounging on the floor with her back against the couch, snorted. “Like your academic success?”

Gojo gasped, lifting his arm to dramatically clutch his chest. “Shoko, watch yourself!”

She just shrugged, casually sipping from yet another juice box.

Geto finally closed his book with a sigh, the sound sharp in the quiet room. “So. Are we gonna talk about how you spent the entire session shamelessly flirting?”

Gojo froze for half a second. Then, as if that half second of hesitation hadn’t existed, he stretched lazily, playing it cool. “Ah. You noticed.”

Geto gave him a flat, unimpressed look. “It was painfully obvious.”

Shoko smirked. “Yeah. You’re about as subtle as a slap to the face.”

Gojo waved a hand like their words meant nothing to him. Even though, yeah, maybe he had been laying it on a little thick. But it wasn’t his fault you were fun to tease. That was on you. No matter now much he tries, you never seem to realize it.

He rolled onto his side, resting his cheek against the couch cushion. “You guys don’t get it. It’s called natural charm.”

Shoko raised her juice box. “So you should probably develop some.”

Gojo shot up, pointing at her. “you’re on thin ice lady”

Geto leaned back in his chair, watching him with a knowing look. “So what’s your plan, exactly?”

Gojo blinked. “Plan?”

Geto smirked, his fingers tapping idly against the table. “You do have a plan, right?”

Gojo squinted at him. “…a plan for?”

Shoko hummed. “I think he’s asking if you actually like her or if you just enjoy being annoying.”

Gojo opened his mouth then promptly shut it. Because that? That was a trap question. A dangerous, loaded question. He glanced at Geto, who was watching him too closely, like he was waiting for a specific answer. Gojo didn’t like that.

So he did what he did best. He deflected.

“Look, does it really matter?” He grinned, leaning back against the armrest. “We’re both having mindless fun”

Geto chuckled, his smirk deepening. “You sound like an ass.”

Gojo smirked right back. “It’s how we bond”

Geto tilted his head slightly, studying him. “Then let’s bet on it.”

Gojo hesitated for half a second. See, here was the thing: Geto never made a bet unless he was certain he’d win.

“…I’m listening.”

“If you actually manage to get a date with her” Geto said smoothly, “I’ll do all your homework for two weeks.”

Gojo sat up immediately. “Two weeks?”

That was so much homework.

“Two weeks,” Geto confirmed, still smirking.

Gojo narrowed his eyes. “…And if I don’t?”

Shoko, who had been waiting for the perfect moment, finally chimed in. “Then you start taking school seriously and stop pursuing her”

Gojo froze.

That? That was a nightmare scenario.

He looked at Geto again, and oh.

Oh.

That was definitely a smug look.

Gojo knew exactly what that meant.

“…Wait a second,” he said slowly. “why are you betting against me?”

Geto shrugged, looking far too pleased with himself. “I just think you might overestimate your charm.”

“Ohhh, bullshit,” Gojo said immediately, pointing at him. “You wouldn’t be making this bet if you didn’t think I’d win.”

Geto didn’t even try to deny it. “I guess you’ll just have to prove me wrong.”

Shoko snorted. “That’s not happening.”

Gojo scowled. “Okay, why are you so confident?”

Shoko smirked. “i’m on a Y/n fan page so I just want to see happens.”

Geto leaned back in his chair, looking a little too smug for Gojo’s liking. “You don’t exactly have the best track record with romance, Satoru.”

Gojo scoffed. “Okay, first of all, yes I do.”

Shoko raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t a girl walk away mid sentence last time you tried flirting?”

Gojo crossed his arms. “She was in a hurry.”

“She ran,” Geto corrected, grinning.

“She had places to be!”

Geto just kept smirking.

And that was when Gojo really put the pieces together.

“…Wait a minute,” Gojo said slowly. “You want me to fail.”

Geto didn’t react. Which meant Gojo was definitely right.

Gojo’s grin widened. “You like her, don’t you?”

Geto finally sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “…And there it is.”

Shoko raised an eyebrow at Geto. “oh! this is some plot i didn’t even see coming.” yes she did, but it’s her fault for being friends with idiots.

Gojo pointed dramatically. “You do!”

Geto still didn’t deny it. He just exhaled, standing up. “Are you taking the bet or not?”

Gojo stared at him for a second longer.

Then he smirked.

“Oh, I’m definitely taking it.” He held out a hand. “let’s say a month”

Geto took his hand, shaking it firmly. “a month.”

Shoko just shook her head, standing up as well. “You two are dumb.”

Gojo flopped back onto the couch, grinning. “Maybe.” He turned to Geto. “But I’m the one who’s gonna win.”

Geto just smirked. “We’ll see.”

And just like that, the bet was on.

—

The moment Geto and Shoko left, Gojo stayed where he was on the couch, staring at the ceiling. His legs were sprawled out, one arm draped over his stomach, the other dangling off the side, fingers lightly tapping against the floor. The room was eerily quiet now, aside from the faint hum of the overhead lights and the occasional rustling of papers left behind on the table.

Then it hit him.

“Those bastards left me with the mess.”

He groaned, tilting his head to glare at the table. Textbooks sat half open, notes scattered across the surface, empty juice boxes piled on top of one another in a sad little mountain. Crumpled up papers littered the floor, evidence of Shoko’s inability to toss things into the trash from a distance.

Sighing, he let his head fall back onto the couch. He’d deal with it later. Maybe. Probably.

Right now, he had bigger things to think about.

Like the fact that he had two weeks to get a date.

Two. Whole. Weeks.

That should be plenty of time. He was Gojo Satoru, after all. He was charming. People liked him. He could pull this off.

…Right?

He exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face.

He didn’t usually think about this kind of thing too much. Flirting with you had always been easy. It was just something he did, a joke, a game, a way to pass the time. At least, that’s what he’d always told himself.

But now? With an actual bet on the line?

It felt… different.

Because if he actually tried, if he really put in effort and you still didn’t like him back

Gojo sat up abruptly. Nope. Not going there. Not thinking about that.

Instead, he grabbed his phone from his pocket and immediately typed into the search bar.

How to make someone like you.

A flood of articles popped up.

• 10 Psychological Tricks to Make Anyone Fall for You!

• Signs Your Crush Might Like You Back!

• Why Are You Googling This? Just Be Yourself, Dude.

Gojo frowned at that last one. Rude.

Clicking on the first link, he skimmed the list:

1. Mirroring their movements to build subconscious trust

2. Prolonged eye contact

3. Casual physical touch

4. Making them laugh

5. Using their name often

Gojo read through it once. Then again. His stomach twisted. Because… he already did most of this. And yet. You hadn’t fallen for him.

Was that why Geto had looked so smug earlier? Because he knew? Knew that Gojo had been trying, even if he hadn’t admitted it? Knew that it hadn’t worked? Gojo groaned, flopping back onto the couch dramatically, one arm slung over his face.

This was stupid. This was so stupid. He shouldn’t care this much. It was just a bet. He was just messing around. …Except he wasn’t. Not really.

Because if he lost, if this went wrong it wouldn’t just be a bruised ego.

It’d be proof.

Proof that maybe you really didn’t see him that way. That maybe you never would and that? That was worse than any stupid bet. Gojo exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair before opening his notes app.

The Gojo Satoru Foolproof Love Plan™ (That Hopefully Works and Doesn’t End in Humiliation)

1. Mirroring movements (Subtle. Act natural. Don’t be weird.)

2. Eye contact (Not too much though. Don’t be creepy.)

3. Casual touches (Hand on shoulder? Ruffling hair? Is that too much? I don’t know.)

4. Make them laugh (I can do that. I do that.)

5. Say their name more (But not in a weird way.)

6. Grand romantic gesture??? (Only if desperate.)

He hesitated, then added:

7. Don’t mess this up.

Gojo stared at the list for a long moment.

Then he shut his phone off and leaned back against the couch, pressing his palms into his eyes. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he should just drop it. Forget the bet. Move on.…But he knew he wouldn’t.

Because if there was even the smallest chance that this worked. If there was even the smallest chance that you might actually like him back. Then he had to try.

Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow I’ll start. And maybe, just maybe this wouldn’t be a complete disaster.

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t-u-i-t-c · 2 years ago

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Blue Is Best

↳ Chouriki Sentai Ohranger - Yūji Mita - OhBlue

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arcadia-smith · 10 days ago

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Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Fem!Reader. (Short blurb cuz I have writer's block)

Marking territory.

You weren’t oblivious. Not to the way the guys in your squad looked at you when they thought Ghost wasn’t paying attention. Not to the way some of the female soldiers lingered when they spoke to him, a little too eager, a little too hopeful.

But Ghost? He was a territorial bastard.

It started at the bar after a mission, where the air was thick with sweat and victory, and the alcohol was flowing freely. One of your squadmates—some cocky rookie—leaned in too close, grinning like he had a shot. “Didn’t know you had a thing for older guys, sweetheart.”

You barely had time to respond before a heavy, gloved hand slid over your hip, dragging you flush against a familiar solid chest. Then—his hand was on your ass. A firm squeeze, possessive and unbothered, as he stared the guy down from behind his mask.

“Think you’ve had enough to drink, mate,” Ghost said, voice slow, deliberate.

The rookie’s face paled. “Right. Yeah. My bad.” He practically stumbled away.

You twisted to look up at Ghost, raising an eyebrow. “Subtle.”

He just grunted, hand still on your ass, thumb stroking circles like he had no plans of letting go. “Didn’t hear you complainin’.”

"Possessive much?" you teased.

"Always."

The second time was worse—or better, depending on how you looked at it.

You were in the mess hall, minding your business, when a group of female soldiers caught Ghost’s attention. You weren’t the jealous type, but you weren’t blind either. They were looking at him the way people looked at a challenge they wanted to win.

Ghost noticed. And he made damn sure they noticed you.

His hand found its way to your ass as he passed by, gripping with a slow, deliberate squeeze that had heat rushing up your spine. “C’mere, love,” he murmured, voice rough and low.

The way the women’s faces fell? Yeah. That was satisfying.

You turned to him, a smirk tugging at your lips. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

His mask hid most of his expression, but his eyes told you everything. Sharp. Dark. Knowing.

“I'm yours,” he murmured, low enough for only you to hear. “And they need to know it.”

Your stomach flipped. Damn him.

Maybe you liked this game just as much as he did.

#writers on tumblr #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x oc #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x female oc #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon riley x female reader #simon riley #cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost cod

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sai-int · 14 days ago

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TICKET TO PLAY | john price

Sheriff Price has a habit of pulling you over, and you have a habit of seeing how far you can push him. It’s a game you've been playing for years—a harmless one, until he gives you exactly what you’ve been asking for.

⤿ based on this | [ AO3 ]

18+ AU, fem!reader, small town vibes, porn with minimal plot, smut, oral (m receiving), dom!john (back and forth between hard and soft), bratty—sort of pathetic reader, fingering, squirting, public sex, smidge of voyeurism, size kink if you really read the fine print, implied slight age gap [ 6.6k words ]

You weren’t going that fast.

Maybe nudging 35 in a 25, but the road was empty—just you and the soft, golden light of a July evening slipping into dusk. The cicadas hummed their lazy symphony, crickets chirping in harmony, while the air carried the scent of fresh-cut grass and summer warmth. It was the kind of night that wrapped around you like a blanket, slow and sweet, the kind that made you want to roll the windows down and let the world drift by.

But then the sirens sliced through the calm, sharp and jarring, shattering the stillness. Red and blue lights flashed in your rearview, splashing the road ahead in a chaotic swirl of color. Your hands tightened on the wheel, that familiar knot twisting in your gut. You didn’t even need to check the mirror to know who it was.

Sheriff John Price.

The small-town Sheriff (asshole) that had a sixth sense for catching you when you weren’t even doing anything wrong. The guy who’d written you up for a rolling stop at an empty intersection, or a right on red at 2 a.m. when the streets were dead silent. Sure, maybe you were five over on a straight stretch of road, but come on—did he really have nothing better to do than hassle you over that? It was starting to feel like he was just looking for excuses to pull you over.

At this point, you figured you were practically on a first-name basis. Hell, you were probably the most frequent flyer on his ticket roster. But that was the trade-off for living in a town where the sheriff knew everyone’s business—and apparently, yours most of all.

You eased the rickety old Nissan Skyline to a crawl, tires screeching softly as you pulled onto the shoulder and shifted into park. Your fingers moved on autopilot, fishing the registration out of the center console before he even asked. If John Price had one talent, it was knowing where you were before you did—and you’d learned the hard way to keep things within arm’s reach.

The music blared for a second longer before you killed the volume, the sudden silence pressing down on the summer night like a weight. You rolled down the window, letting the warm, sticky air flood the cabin, thick with the scent of grass and distant rain. Leaning back in your seat, one hand resting lazily on the wheel, you waited. Same old song and dance.

First came the slam of his cruiser door, sharp and final, like he was already annoyed at the prospect of dealing with you. Then the crunch of his boots on the asphalt—slow, deliberate, each step dragging out the inevitable. It was almost comical, the way he took his time, like he wasn’t the one who’d flipped on the lights and sirens.

The window hissed as it rolled down, the sound jarring in the quiet, and before you could stop yourself, a smirk tugged at the corner of your mouth. You didn’t bother hiding it this time. If you were walking away thirty dollars lighter, you might as well make it entertaining.

"Evenin’, John," you drawl, letting the words hang in the air with a playful edge that makes his jaw tighten.

He leans in, his arms braced against the window frame like he owns the whole damn road. His face is all sharp lines and shadows in the fading light, the faint scent of cigarettes and worn leather wrapping around you, mingling with the heavy, humid air of the summer night.

“Don’t call me John,” he grumbles, his voice rougher than usual, like gravel under tires.

You raise an eyebrow, your lips curling into a grin. “Why not?” you tease, letting your fingers trail lazily along the steering wheel. “Thought we were friends, John.” You bat your lashes, adding a pout for good measure, laying it on thick just to see how far you can push him this time

He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t even blink. His eyes narrow, the muscles in his jaw twitching as he leans in closer, his presence crowding you. “We aren’t ‘friends,’” he says, his voice low, almost a growl. “You know why I pulled you over?”

It’s not really a question—it’s a challenge, and you can’t help but rise to it. You tilt your head, letting your gaze linger on him, your smirk widening. “Hmm… maybe ‘cause you’re a sucker for a pretty car?” you suggest, your tone dripping with sarcasm, sweet enough to sting.

John’s lips press into a thin line, but the subtle shift in his posture tells you everything you need to know. His gaze is unrelenting, sharp enough to cut through the cool facade you’re trying so hard to maintain. Internally, he’s fighting not to laugh—you can see it in the way his shoulders tense, like he’s holding back a cackle.

“If this—” he steps back, his eyes sweeping over the exterior of your car with deliberate slowness before landing back on you, “—is your idea of a ‘pretty car,’ I might have to issue you a ticket for driving without glasses.”

You lean back in your seat, arms crossing over your chest, your mouth hanging open in mock offense. Just because Fergie was old didn’t mean she was ugly. “Has anyone ever told you you’re an ass?”

He stands there for a moment, just watching you, his expression unreadable. It’s like he’s weighing how much more of this he’s willing to put up with. Finally, he tilts his head, his voice dry as dust. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a brat?”

“Touché.”

You two had been here before. Over and over again. Ever since you’d come back home from college, he’d been hot on your trail—always showing up at the worst possible moments, right when you thought you might’ve gotten away with it.

This was your town. You’d grown up here, knew every road, every corner, every face. It was small, sure, but it was yours. And then John Price showed up. Sparkling, brand new hot-shot sheriff, fresh off the Mayflower. Sworn in by all the touch-starved wives and swooned over by every teenage girl in a fifty-mile radius. Ever since he’d arrived, it was like Elvis all over again

You figured he didn’t have the right to boss the locals around like he owned the place. No shiny badge or gun on his hip was going to earn him any respect from you. This wasn’t some big city where the badge meant everything. Out here? You could be just as stubborn as he was.

Still, he had a knack for showing up when you least expected it, always lurking in the background, keeping an eye on you for reasons you couldn’t quite figure out. No one could explain it, but there he was, always hovering like you were some kind of problem. But you never did anything wrong. Not really.

“I bet you 50 bucks there’s about five disgruntled teens smoking pot under the high school bleachers as we speak,” you say, leaning back in your seat with a grin tugging at your lips. “Surely, they deserve your devotion and attention more than little ol’ me.”

He pauses, clearly weighing your words, and you can see the flicker of recognition in his eyes. “I don’t want your money,” he mutters, his tone dry but with a hint of amusement—and something else you can’t quite place. “Besides, I doubt you’ve got 50 dollars to spare, considering how often you’re in the precinct paying off tickets.” He leans in just a little, his gaze sharp, like he’s daring you to argue.

You shrug, playing the part, even though you know he’s right. “Hey, I’m just saying. You’re wasting your time with me. I’m practically a model citizen. Those kids under the bleachers, though? They could be causing all kinds of trouble.”

You give him a sidelong glance, letting the playful challenge hang in the air between you. “I’m just trying to help you out here, Sheriff.”

Your tone is sweet—too sweet—and you can almost see the gears turning in his head as he tries to figure out whether you’re messing with him or just being your usual self.

He takes a slow breath, clearly trying to keep his composure. His hand pinches the bridge of his nose before he exhales, the sound heavy with exasperation. “Oh, I’m sure you are,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Big help, givin’ me that advice.”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning forward just enough to close the distance between you, your voice dripping with mock sincerity. “What can I say, Sheriff? Someone’s gotta make your job worthwhile.”

For a moment, the world seems to narrow to just the two of you. The air grows heavy, charged with something you can’t quite name, and the silence stretches taut between you. But then the faint hum of a car engine cuts through the stillness, tires rolling past on the asphalt—a sharp reminder that you’re not alone out here.

“Step out of the car.” His voice is calm, steady, but there’s a flicker of something darker beneath the surface, a low undercurrent that sends a shiver down your spine.

Your jaw tightens, anger flaring hot and sudden in your chest. He’s never asked you to step out of the car before, and the demand catches you off guard. You can’t afford to be arrested—not with a shift at the diner at 6 a.m. tomorrow morning, not with the way your life is already balanced on a knife’s edge. The thought of cuffs, of being hauled into the precinct, makes your stomach churn.

But you don’t move. Not yet. Instead, you meet his gaze, your own sharp and defiant, and for a heartbeat, the two of you are locked in a silent standoff.

You don’t say a word, just reach down to unclick your seatbelt with an indignant sigh, movements slow—like dragging out the inevitable might change the outcome. The latch pops, the sound too loud in the quiet, and you open the door, letting the evening air rush in, cool against the heat prickling at your skin.

You step out, tugging your shorts down where they’ve ridden up, keeping your gaze on the ground, on the cracks in the pavement, anywhere but at him. You try to keep your breathing steady, try to act like this is just another bullshit stop, just another way for him to waste your time and break your wallet. But your heart’s already racing, faster than you want it to.

Then his hand is on your hip.

Firm. Unmoving. Not quite guiding, not quite restraining. Just there. A weight that lingers, like a silent reminder that he’s the one in control here, no matter how much you want to believe otherwise.

For a second, you freeze.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just watches you. The silence stretches, thick and heavy, charged with something you don’t want to name.

You swallow, still refusing to look at him. “Gonna write me a bullshit ticket, John?” Your voice is casual, flippant—too much so. You know it, and so does he.

He doesn’t answer right away, and that makes it worse.

Because the truth is, you’d rather he just do it. Write the damn ticket, hand you the fine, and send you on your merry way. That would be easy. It’d be normal.

But nothing about him has ever been easy. And this? Whatever this is? It sure as hell isn’t normal.

His fingers tighten—just slightly—but it’s enough. Enough for you to catch it, that flicker of something dark and barely restrained. His jaw tightens, his nostrils flare, and you realize he’s at his limit.

Like he’s weighing his options. Like he’s wondering if he should just give you the damn ticket and walk away.

You tilt your chin up, finally meeting his gaze, like a challenge. Would he?

His voice is tight when he finally speaks, low and strained, every word biting through the air.

"You think this is a game?"

You pause, letting the question linger as you ponder. Is it a game? Is that what this has always been? This back-and-forth, this constant chase—where you go about your life, minding your business, and he shows up, lurking, watching, like he’s got nothing better to do than make you his personal problem.

Would he really arrest you? Pin you against his cruiser and throw you in the back? Take you downtown like you’re some criminal? The thought sends a slow, involuntary shiver down your spine, but the more you think about it, the more ridiculous it sounds. If he was going to do it, it would’ve happened already.

He’s just a big softie. A stubborn, gruff, self-righteous pain in the ass who acts like he’s got the whole town in a chokehold but has spent too many years shadowing you for it to be a coincidence.

And deep down, you reckon he must have some sick, weird crush if the only way he can muster up the courage to see you is by stuffing a white slip of paper under your windshield wiper, like he can’t even be bothered to have a conversation without the safety of bureaucracy to hide behind.

You don’t even have to think about it anymore.

This is a game.

You keep your gaze steady, watching him. Watching the way he’s fighting to maintain that authority, to keep control. And through the harsh headlights from his car, it’s almost cute—the way his jaw tightens, the way his nostrils flare ever so slightly, the way his fingers twitch against your hip like he’s waging a war with himself. Like he thinks he can win.

But he can’t.

Not really.

His grip on you tightens, fingers pressing deeper, slipping beneath soft flesh to squeeze the bone. Like he’s trying to ground himself. Like he thinks if he just holds on tight enough, he can remind himself who’s in charge here.

But you see it—the shift in his expression, the cracks forming right in front of you. His eyes are darker now, narrowed with something he’s still pretending isn’t there, and his teeth grit like it physically pains him to keep standing here.

You just can’t resist.

You lean in just enough, close enough that your breath tickles his cheek, and with a slow, knowing smirk, you whisper, “You’ve been dying to get your hands on me, haven’t you, John?”

The words hang between you, sharp and saccharine, and for a moment, it’s like the world holds its breath.

His eyes go dark, that flicker of anger flashing through them like a warning. But it’s not just anger anymore. It’s something else, something raw. For a split second, you’re certain he’s off the deep end.

Before you can even blink, his hand moves. It’s fast, and suddenly, he’s grabbing you by the arm, yanking you toward him with a force that steals the breath from your lungs.

“Get over here,” he growls.

The words are rough, guttural, scraping against his throat like he’s been holding them back for too long.

The next thing you know, he’s dragging you to the hood of his cruiser, his grip tight and bruising as his fingers wrap around your wrist, effortlessly dwarfing it. The cold metal of the hood bites against your skin as he shoves you down, bending you over the car.

And then he’s on you.

His chest is solid heat against your back, his weight pressing you into the hood like he’s making sure you stay there. Your breath catches, chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven movements as you try to process just how quickly the shift between you has turned into this.

“Talk so fuckin’ much,” he mutters through clenched teeth, his voice a growl of frustration and something deeper, something rougher. His breath fans against your ear, hot and unsteady, sending a shiver down your spine.

One hand clamps over your wrists, holding them firm against the small of your back, while the other tangles in your hair, yanking your head back just enough to expose the vulnerable line of your throat.

The grip is possessive. Unforgiving, like he’s staking a claim.

“You think you can just keep pushing me? Keep fuckin’ with me like this, hmm?”

A soft whimper tumbles from your lips, and you bite down hard on your bottom lip, the rest of the sound dying in your throat. His hand pulls on your hair, making your neck arch back, and the sharp tug sends a jolt straight to your cunt. You try to choke back the reaction, but it’s impossible—the way he’s holding you, the way he’s pressing into you with every word, every move.

His body presses into yours, the intensity of it all making your pulse race. Despite everything, despite the situation, a shiver runs down your spine. You can tell he’s holding back by the way his teeth grit, the sharpness in his voice.

You smirk, tilting your head slightly to meet his gaze from the side. “By the way John Jr’s more sprung than a rainy day in April, I’d say you like it,” he groans and you chuckle, “You do like it, don’t you, John?”

The words slip from your lips, taunting him, and you can feel the shift in his posture before he even moves. His grip on your hair tightens, pulling you back further, forcing you to arch your neck more as he leans in, his breath hot and heavy against your skin, each exhale brushing over you like a warning.

“Think you’ve got me figured out?” he growls, teeth grazing the curve of your ear, his words a promise and a threat all at once. “Since you’re so fuckin’ knowledgeable, tell me something…”

Your pulse quickens, the anticipation like the loaded gun in his waistband. “Tell you what?” you ask, your voice quiet, almost breathless, but your eyes never leave his.

“Tell me what I do t’dumb girls that don’t know how t’speak only when spoken to,” he murmurs, his grip shifting, pulling you in closer, his body pressing against yours in a way that makes it impossible to ignore the growing bulge in his pants.

You can feel his cock twitch with interest in his jeans, and instinctively, you roll your hips back into his. The firm bulge presses against your pulsating cunt, offering just the smallest bit of reprieve from the ache in your clit and you can’t help but whimper. “You give them a ticket and send them on their way?”

“Nice try, love,” he says, the words dripping with disappointment, like he’s genuinely let down by your guess.

Before you can even react, his hand leaves your hair, and you hear the cold click of the cuffs snapping around your wrists.

You jerk against the restraint, but it’s useless. You turn to look up at him, but the look on his face—hands on his hips, blue eyes locked on you—makes you stop.

No smirk, no joke. Just intensity.

“Get on your knees,” he says, voice low, rough, without hesitation.

You bite your lip, the urge to snap back hitting you. But instead, you swallow it down and push yourself up, kneeling before him on the pavement. The roughness of it bites into your skin, the cuffs digging into your wrists, each pull reminding you of just how much control he has in this situation.

His boot taps lightly against your thigh, the sound sharp in the quiet air, a silent demand for your attention. You glance up, meeting his gaze, and the intensity in his eyes makes your breath catch. It’s a look that makes your pulse quicken, as if he can see right through you, into everything you’re trying to shovel deep..

“Sit,” he commands, the word simple, authoritative.

It takes you a second to realize what he means, but when his boot nudges against your clothed cunt, you get it.

You lift your hips slow, like you’re not sure but can’t help it, settling atop his boot. The sensation makes a shiver run up your spine. His fingers find your hair again, firm, enough to tilt your head back and make you look up at him.

“This’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it, dove?” His voice is quiet, almost a whisper, like he’s savoring the sight of you—knees to the ground, wrists bound, eyes wide as you stare up at him. He can’t help but palm himself at the sight.

Your heart pounds against your ribs, heat simmering in your cheeks with anticipation. “I’m not gonna beg,” you sneer, defiant like your cunt isn’t already drooling for him. The lie sits thick on your tongue, heavy enough to choke on.

He smirks—slow like he’s amused, but there’s something else there, like he’s already decided how he’ll play with you.

“That’s cute,” his fingers tighten in your hair, tilting your head back just a little further. Your lips part on instinct, a quiet, pained mewl slipping out before you can stop it.

“but you will,” he hums with a smile so saccharine, it makes you want to smack it off his face. His free hand reaches for his belt, fumbling with the leather as he pulls it out of the buckle. You can feel your body buzzing with anticipation, the tension building in every nerve of your body. Everything in your mind is screaming at you, telling you how wrong this is, how this can’t happen. But deep down, you know he’s right. This has been a long time coming.

But fuck, he’s a literal cop, the Sheriff. This has to fall under some public indecency law.

But despite everything, despite all the warnings your mind throws at you, the pull is stronger, too real to ignore. And you can’t stop yourself from leaning into it.

He peels down the zipper of his blue slacks and the sound echoes in your ears. You’re on your knees on the shoulder of a road, the last vestiges of daylight fading, and God help you, your mouth waters when you see the outline of his solid cock through his boxers.

He doesn't break eye contact, his other hand still tight in your hair, daring you to even try to look away. The recklessness, the sheer audacity of him whipping out his cock in the middle of a traffic stop. It’s all so palpable, like a stack of weights on your chest. He tugs down his boxers in one fluid movement, his cock springing free, and you can’t help but try to back away at the sight.

He's massive in every sense of the word. Dark curls trail from his navel to the base of him, thick but neatly kept. His cock hangs low and heavy between his legs, thick and long with a few veins and just the softest blush of pink at his tip. There’s no way you can take him all, let alone in your mouth.

He could see the shift in your eyes, the sudden apprehension in your demeanor, and the hand in your hair loosened. He trailed his fingers from your scalp to your cheek, his thumb wandering to the plump flesh of your parted lips.

“You can say no, dove. I won’t hold it against you,” he says softly, giving you an out. His blue eyes soften as they meet yours, and you know he wouldn’t force you. But the way the hard leather of his boot presses through your shorts, firm against your clit, has you fighting the urge to grind against him. You want—No, need him. Badly.

You bow your head to meet his cock, tongue darting out, hungrily swiping up the drop of precum dangling from his tip. He automatically groans and his hands find their way back to your scalp, feeding his cock into your mouth. Your lips tighten around him immediately, suckling as he presses in and stretches you out.

“Fuck— that’s it, love, so fuckin’ tight,” he babbles as he watches his length disappear in your mouth over and over. His eyes flutter shut as he tips his head back—he knew if he looked at you any longer he’d blow his load too soon. Your tongue is just so hot. He hadn’t expected it to be ice, but God you were sweltering. He nestled himself in the back of your throat so nicely, tickling and toying with your gag reflex each time you bobbed your head. You coat his length with slick spit, the sounds of your gags subconsciously making him push your head down even further.

You focus on steady breaths through your nose as his grip tightens. Your hands strain against the cuffs, aching to touch, to feel, to at least stroke where your mouth can’t reach. So pretty like this, he thinks. The way you look up at him, defiant yet desperate. The way your breath catches and your throat flutters around his mushroomed tip.

It drives him crazy—how much he wants to break that control, to make you lose it completely. His groans only spur you on further, your tongue moving with purpose, tracing the prominent vein along his underside.

Your hips jerk against his boot as spit gathers at the corners of your mouth, knees grinding into the asphalt, but you barely notice the sting. All you can think about is the way it makes heat pool in your cunt—sends sparks up your spine.

You can’t help it—your hips keep moving, grinding against his boot, the rough leather driving you wild, and you’re sure you’re leaving a wet spot. The friction is delicious, and you’re so lost in it that you almost miss when he speaks.

“Look at you,” he says, smirking despite how badly he needs to cum. “Can’t even help yourself, can you? Just a needy little mutt, humpin’ my boot.”

His hand tugs your strands, not rough but firm, just enough to make you gasp. “Just need your pretty pussy touched, that right?” he tuts softly, pulling you off him, a thin strand of saliva connecting your glistening lips to the tip of his cock. “On your feet, come on.” He guides you up, your legs shaky and chest heaving but his grip steadies you. “There you go, sweetheart.”

The sky’s a deep blue now, the sun long gone, the cruiser’s headlights casting faint shadows. He shoves you back against the hood, the metal cool against the backs of your thighs. His hands are on you immediately, rough and demanding, squeezing your thighs, your tits, like he’s marking his territory.

You bite your lip, trying to steady your breathing, but it’s useless. His fingers dig into your flesh, and your hips jerk instinctively, craving more. “So quiet now, hm?” he hums, his face centimeters from yours. “What happened to that smart little mouth of yours?”

The way he switches from caring to being so dominant, it makes your head spin. You glare at him, but he doesn’t care. His hand slides under the waistband of your shorts, fingers dancing over your soaked panties, and you can’t stop the way your hips roll into his hand, desperate for any touch he’ll give. “All this for me, sweet girl?” he mutters, middle finger slowly circling your sensitive clit, “All wound up, yeah? Need me to set you straight?”

“Fuck—,” you whine, your hips bucking into his hand, you can feel his breath against your lips as he chuckles. He deftly pulls your panties to the side, groaning when his fingers slide through your folds. His lips find your neck and he mouths at the sensitive patch of skin above your pulse, sucking a dark, red splotch into your skin as if you’re his.

You instinctively toss your head back, letting him lick hot, wet stripes from your clavicle to your jaw. He slips a single finger into you and your cunt squelches embarrassingly.

“Feels so good, John—,” you whine into the evening breeze as he pumps his finger in you, curling to hit your g-spot with precision you’ve never experienced. He smiles against your skin before enveloping your lips with his.

It’s hungry, messy, and desperate. His tongue crowds your mouth trying to drink you whole, like he’s been parched, waiting for you to quench his thirst since he first met you. He swallows your whines and pleas for more as he works you open, grinning when he slips in his ring finger alongside the middle and you gasp.

It’s a pathetic attempt, really, to kiss him back—to try to match his fervor. He has you at his mercy and you’re near collapsing into him as he finger fucks you, low heat pooling in your belly as the coil tightens, as you claw at the hood of the car, wishing the cuffs weren’t there—wishing you could claw at him instead.

“Feel you gettin’ all tight ‘round me, dove. Gonna cum? Gonna soak my fingers, doll?” He questions against your lips. Your walls are squeezing him so tight, sucking him in and keeping them there. So greedy, he thinks.

You nod vehemently, biting your lip so you don’t scream—or sob, you aren’t sure how to feel—into the air. He grinds the heel of his palm against your clit, and that’s all you need to finally break. You near black out when you cum, sparks shooting up your spine and making your vision go black for a moment, his fingers lazily working you through your orgasm as your legs shake and your walls damn near break his fingers.

“That’s my girl, knew you could do it,” he hums against your temple, wiping away tears you hadn’t known fallen.

You hadn’t cum that hard in your life. Not by yourself, and most certainly not by any of the lame frat boys you fucked in your college days.

But John isn’t in a frat.

And he certainly isn’t just a boy.

He gently slips his hand out of your pants, bringing his fingers up to his lips before popping them into his mouth. The way his eyes flutter shut, eyebrows pulling together softly as he groans at the taste of you on his tongue, it’s all fucking sinful. You watch him, mesmerized as he pulls the glistening digits out of his mouth with a pop.

He dips his head to yours, kissing you again, but much softer this time, less hungry, more savoring. You can taste the subtle tang of your own juices on his tongue, and you’d be a liar if you said it didn’t turn you on further.

John subtly tugs your shorts and panties down, the fabric whispering against your skin. He fishes for a small key in his pocket, before using them on the cuffs. They open, releasing your raw wrists with a near-silent snick. You feel the moment the cuffs fall away, and your hands move as if drawn by an invisible force, reaching for him, clutching at his jaw, pulling him closer with urgency. Your fingers roam his shoulders, his neck, tracing the hard lines of his body as he spreads your legs, tossing your discarded shorts aside. He settles between them, lazily pumping his cock with his free hand.

“You want this, love?” he whispers against your lips.

You nod almost imperceptibly before crashing your lips back to his, like you just can’t get enough.

He kisses you back like a magnet, but just as quickly, he pulls away again.

“Words,” he says sternly.

You huff, ever the impatient brat. “Put your fucking cock in me or I swear to God, I'll get in my car and drive right out of here.”

“That right?” he scoffs, "You gonna drive off?" He brings his angry red tip to your sodden folds, teasing your sensitive clit with each brush, making you jolt, “You want t’act like a brat,” he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. “Then we can do this the hard way.” He leans in, his lips brushing against yours. “Unless,” he murmurs, ghosting the head of his cock into your hole, “you'd like to ask nicely.”

You bite your lip as you watch him tease you, fighting a groan at the way your cunt squelches and stretches around just his tip.

“She’s so greedy, already tryin’ to suck me in,” he coos, “don’t want to deprive her, now do we?”

You whine as he notches just the head in. He pauses, waiting for you to speak before he moves any further. You open your mouth and your voice just breaks as you leak and drip around him and onto the hood of the car.

“Please, John, Please, I need you—Please, I’ll be so good,” You break and claw at his shoulders and back, desperate to pull him closer to you, to have you flush against him, chest to chest and full of his cock.

“See how gorgeous you sound when you’re nice? See where that gets you, love?” He coos as he inches his cock into you. Your walls are already fluttering, still all worked up from your last orgasm. He has to fight the urge to cum right then and there, gritting his teeth as his grip tightens on your thighs, fingers dimpling the fat as he spears you open.

You’re slack jawed, eyes glassy as he bottoms out. You’ve never been so full and stretched in your life. You can feel him in every orifice of your body, you feel him in the pits of your stomach, in the hollows of your lungs, in the cavern of your throat. His tip nudges against your cervix and all you can manage is a strangled sob.

“Oh none of that, lovie, none of that,” he hums, pecking your lips and wiping the tears from your eyes with the pads of his thumbs.

“Gonna fuck you real nice,” the thumb he used to wipe your tears away travels south, finding your clit and drawing soft, slow circles that have you gushing and relaxing around him, “Just be a good pet and take it.”

You nod as he cradles your head in his hand. He gently moves his hips, inching his cock out of your cunt before sliding back in, squeezing the air out of you like a fucking balloon.

Gasps fall from your lips with each stroke, not entirely from discomfort, but from the sheer intensity of the feeling. He repeats the motion, a slow, deliberate push and pull that sends shivers down your spine. He keeps his thumb on your clit steady, making your legs shake, a burning heat already blossoming low in your belly. You grip his shoulders, your nails digging into his clothed frame as you try to anchor yourself against the rising tide of sensation.

He continues, his movements becoming more insistent, more demanding. Each thrust is deeper, faster, steady plaps from where his hips repeatedly meet yours. He knocks the breath out of you, each stroke forcing a soft mewl from your lips, your body trembling with anticipation. The world narrows, focusing on the rhythmic movements of his hips, the feel of his skin against yours, the sound of your ragged breaths mingling with his.

He leans, his lips brushing against your own. “That's it, doll,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “Take it all.”

His words ignite a fire within you, a raw, primal need that surges through your veins. You arch your back, meeting his thrusts with a ferocity that surprises even yourself. His pace quickens, his movements becoming more urgent, more erratic, and you know he’s getting close. The burning in your abdomen intensifies, spreading outwards, and throughout your body.

His name falls from your lips in a litany—John, John, John, john—a prayer, both a plea and a demand as his cock plows into you with staggering precision. Your cunt clenches around him, milking every ounce of pleasure from each stroke. He groans, cursing as his grip tightens on your hips, until you wail, toes curling and clawing at his back, your voice hoarse as you squirt all over him. He continues to move, his rhythm relentless, until he too reaches his peak, groaning as his body shudders, as he spurts hot ropes of cum deep inside your cunt.

You’re breathless, spent, your limbs heavy and relaxed. The dampness of sweat cooled on your skin, a pleasant contrast to the lingering heat between your legs. The world slowly comes back into focus and a soft smile plays on your lips as you trace the line of his jaw with your fingertips.

“That was…” you murmur, your voice still rough.

He nuzzles your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “A lot,” he finishes for you, his voice low.

You hum in agreement, tightening your grip on his jaw just slightly. You don't need to say more. The silence that settles between you is comfortable. He shifts slightly, and it reminds you he's still there, sheathed inside you.

You close your eyes, savoring the warmth of his body against yours, a comforting heat that seeps into your skin. Every nerve ending still fires, buzzing with aftershocks.

Slowly, he inches out of you. It feels weird to not be full of him, a sudden emptiness that makes you instinctively clench. He's out, and the cool air against your skin is a stark reminder of the reality of the situation. Of the fact that you’re literally on the side of the road. John reaches for your discarded clothes, picking them up with a casualness that borders on audacious.

He starts with your panties, briefly bending down in front of you as you step into them. He pulls them up your legs, snapping the elastic against your hip. “Sheriff’s discretion,” he murmurs, his eyes glinting with amusement as he fastens your shorts too. “Wouldn't want you getting a ticket for indecent exposure.” Fucking knew it.

You raise an eyebrow, a smirk playing on your lips. “You were just as indecent as I was, if I recall.”

He shrugs as he tugs up his own pants, a picture of nonchalant authority. “Evidence suggests otherwise, doll,” he counters, his gaze dropping to your lips. “Besides,” he adds, his voice dropping to a low rumble, “I'm the one writing the tickets.” He finishes buttoning your shorts, his fingers lingering against your skin.

The world sways for a moment, your legs still a little shaky. He steadies you, his arm around your waist. He walks you back to your car, the silence between you comfortable, filled with unspoken understanding. He stops just short of the driver's side door, his hand resting comfortably on your back.

“Drive safe,” he says, his voice softer than you've ever heard it.

You nod, your eyes meeting his. You stand on your tip toes and kiss him, a soft, lingering peck on his lips that’s got him feeling like a teenager again.. He responds in kind, other hand moving to cup your cheek. Judging by how he holds you close, he’s reluctant to pull away.

But he does, and he turns and walks back to his cruiser. Eventually, You watch his car fade away, a strange mix of emotions swirling within you. Then, with a deep breath, you turn and get into your car. The door shuts and you just exhale, replaying everything that just happened.

You reach to crank the keys sitting in the ignition and your eyes fall on a small white rectangle tucked under the windshield wiper. You get back out of the car and pull it free.

It's a ticket. For speeding.

Asshole.

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inkskinned · 8 months ago

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they will need to whipstitch the wound closed, but embroidery is a "woman's" task. they will need to eat and clean and mend clothes, but why learn basic things when you can have a woman measure out your life in beads. he will be the "head" of your house, but if you want him to act accordingly, you must assign him a list of all applicable activities. you will be otherwise constantly in charge of almost-everything; so he will lead the house he is absent from.

in movies and books, the "cool" girl will be more-like-a-man. she will be "less boring," more "fun". she will have masculine ideas and masculine talents, which means a man doesn't have to change in order to find her fascinating. she will disdain of something as simple as stitching. how boring!

she will kick open the door of a car and quip what, girls can't drive? and flip her long hair down one side. she will grill and shoot a gun and skydive. be a guy. she will be sexualized.

somewhere, working on computers becomes a masculine task, and now on tv a gen-z disney character throws her hands up in the air. i can't be a computer science nerd, i'm a girl! in the real life, she will be unable to sit through some of her classes, shivering when she realizes she is the only woman present in several of them.

how many times have you read this book and seen this show and watched this movie. the singular woman is allowed 5 lines because she's not just smart! she's also pretty! she is surrounded by 20 average men, but she is stunning. she is the exception to the bland, pale lives of women-at-home, who will never be shown. she likes dirt and motorbikes and blood and shows up in a tiny dress during the final scene, rolling her eyes at our male lead's incredulity - just because i like motorcross doesn't mean anything. i'm still a woman, okay? i actually like shopping.

it is almost never reversed, and you think about that often. it is vanishingly rare to have a single man in a cast of women. the male love interest does not show up at a feminist march and sardonically squint at our leading lady - what? you thought only women care about human rights? he does not know how to balance a checkbook or kickbox because i grew up with three sisters.

when he cooks he is a chef, which is sexy. when he cleans, he's being kind, genteel. when he nurtures his family, confetti rains from the ceiling. when she does these things: it is her duty and her identity. what do you mean she has other passions and hobbies? isn't her hobby and passion homemaking?

the other day a friend embroidered a seam closed on your jacket into the shape of ivy. every time you touch it, you think of her.

something about women's hobbies and art and skills. something about women's work.

#this makes no sense bc i got too mad :)#writeblr #warm up #i'm workin on something else as a thank u to a friend :) just up early and #honestly thinking of fuckken eloise from bridgerton #she was like. 80% the antagonist this season. girl . ''oh nooooo colin is engaged to penny!!''#girl shut up ur a feminist and ur friend is standing there saying shes about to be SOLD

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retiredteabag · 6 months ago

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Too hot to cuddle!!

this is part one of my dual-fic based on this fanart read about winter!Toji here :]

synopsis: Toji becomes jealous of your pillow…

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

You and Toji cuddle often. It wasn't something you guys ever spoke about or needed to ask for but it wasn't uncommon for the man to come home from a job and find you spread across the couch, only to come over and lay his entire body over yours until you complained about "needing air".

This was the perfect dynamic for winter, Toji's body heat seemed to always be in supply but in the summer, the man could be nude, without a blanket in sight, prone before an oscillating fan, and still sweating.

It was the unfortunate truth that Toji would overheat, even if you were particularly chilly. So when the summer months came around, you were blessed with the entire comforter to yourself.

Too hot for him, you would pull your arms into the blanket so he would have his side of the bed to sprawl while you could rest, enwraptured in warmth.

It was a dynamic that worked for both of you- until it didn't

One night, mid-summer, you unconsciously had yourself tucked tightly within the comforter. Shifting in your sleep, you exhaustedly unraveled enough to reach out for Toji's form. Subconsciously, you felt for him, and in your sleepy state, tucked yourself around his torso, legs tied with his own. The groan he let out did little to rouse you or waive your hold on him.

In the heat of the moment (no pun intended) he shook your arm from his waist, grunting whilst turning to face your sleeping figure. With little but a sleepy hum in reply, he made more of an effort to push you and your warm blanket away from him.

“s too hot” He grumbled.

Your unconscious mind took no offense, soon finding comfort again by flipping over, wrapped in the blanket, to throw yourself around one of your many pillows.

Toji rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he watched this occur. After moving you from his form, he witnessed as you practically spooned the pillow in your grasp. Face smooshed in, like you did with his chest, leg lifted over the side, arms surrounding his replacement.

Seeing as you chose the blanket over him, he couldn't help but be peeved. Even exhausted and hot, he wants you to choose him, even if he had just pushed you away.

At least tell him you’re mad. But it seems you’re too tired for that... shouldn’t you be able to pick him, conscious or not? With a sigh he yanks the blanket from your tucked grasp. A whine sounded in the room.

"to-ji..."

"c'mon." He pulled until you finally were awake enough to see him. Ignoring the words he had just spoken, his aforementioned grunts of it being "too hot" he lifted you from your spot onto his chest, your side of the bed soon baren as he swung his leg to kick your pillow off the edge, only to lean onto his side, locking you in his embrace.

#jujutsu kaisen #toji x reader #toji blurb #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fushigro x reader #toji fluff #toji fushiguro fluff #toji imagine #jjk fluff #jjk toji #fushiguro toji #toji x you #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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kateschi · 3 months ago

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the katsuki bakugou effect

synopsis: where your husband, katsuki, has a way of calming your daughter like no one else can.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

katsuki’s ability to calm your daughter is nothing short of magical.

it doesn’t matter how fussy or inconsolable she gets; the moment he holds her, everything changes.

her tiny fists are no longer clenched in frustration, her loud cries slowly taper off, and her little body relaxes in his arms. his presence soothes her in a way no one else’s can.

you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve been at the end of your rope, trying everything you can think of to calm her.

you’ve rocked her gently, hummed her favorite lullaby, even tried a little soft talking, but nothing works.

when your baby’s tears start to escalate, and her little body trembles in distress, you find yourself on the edge of exhaustion.

but then katsuki walks in.

he steps over to you, and with a quick kiss to the top of your head, scoops her from your arms, then instantly, the tension in the room lifts.

his rough hands gently cradle her, and he murmurs something too quiet for you to catch.

you can’t help but watch in awe as she goes from wailing to calm in just a few seconds, her little face nuzzling against his chest. it’s like a switch flips, and you swear you can see her sigh in relief.

it’s always the same. as soon as katsuki’s around, she settles. she looks at him with a calmness that’s impossible to ignore, her tiny lips pouting slightly as she stares up at him.

her little hands grasp weakly at his shirt, her body relaxing into his hold as if everything is suddenly right with the world. and katsuki just holds her, always.

“you’re a softie,” you tease one day as you watch him rock her back and forth.

katsuki shoots you a glare, but it’s softened by the sight of your daughter curled peacefully in his arms. “shut up,” he mutters, but there’s no real heat behind it. and you can’t help but smile.

you cross the room, leaning in to plant a kiss on his cheek. he stiffens for a moment, but the warmth in his eyes tells you everything you need to know.

“I’m serious,” you say. “you’re the softest guy I know.”

he lets out a gruff chuckle, his scowl deepening, though it's clear he's enjoying your attention as he places a gentle kiss on your forehead.

a few weeks later, you’re all at a class 1-a reunion, gathered at the old dorms. the atmosphere is lively, with the familiar banter of your old classmates filling the air.

midoriya’s sitting on the couch, holding your daughter carefully in his arms, cooing softly at her as the rest of the group laughs and talks around them.

but suddenly, the peaceful mood shifts. your girl begins to fidget in midoriya’s arms, her little face scrunching up in that all-too-familiar way before the whimpers start.

a soft cry escapes her lips, and then it builds, escalating into the full-blown wail you know so well. midoriya looks startled, glancing around as if searching for some way to calm her.

“uh, uh, it’s okay,” midoriya says, trying to gently rock her in his arms. “it’s okay, sweetheart."

but your baby’s cries only seem to grow louder, her face turning red as her hands flail helplessly. you glance at katsuki, already knowing what’s coming next.

without a word, katsuki stands up from his seat, the others giving him a bit of space as he walks over.

his eyes lock on your daughter, and there’s something about his gaze that makes everything else fade into the background. he’s not rushing, not frantic.

he just calmly steps in, his arms outstretched.

midoriya silently hands the little girl over. as soon as katsuki has her, everything shifts. he holds her against his chest, and his rough hand gently pats her back.

his thumb brushes against her little arm, his voice soft. “it’s me,” he murmurs, his tone low and steady. “it’s okay.”

your little girl hiccups, her cries fading almost immediately, and then she stops. her lips jut out in a pout, still a little upset, but no longer in distress.

she stares up at him, her wide eyes searching his face as if recognizing him. and then, she settles into the crook of his arm, her tiny hands grasping weakly at the fabric of his shirt.

the room is silent for a moment, everyone watching in awe as your girl rests peacefully in katsuki’s arms. he doesn’t even seem to notice the attention.

his focus is entirely on her, his expression softening as she calms.

you smile to yourself, watching him from the sidelines. even after all this time, katsuki never ceases to surprise you with how much he’s grown, how much he’s learned.

you remember when he first found out he was going to be a father, and how nervous he’d been (though he would never admit that).

but now, here he is, effortlessly calming your daughter.

“man, you’re a real softie now, huh?” kirishima teases from across the room, a wide grin plastered on his face.

katsuki’s eyes narrow immediately, and he glares at his friend. “shut the hell up, red.”

but the teasing doesn’t stop there.

kaminari, who’s been silently watching the entire scene, leans forward with a smirk. “I can’t believe it…the ‘explosion hero’ is actually the baby whisperer now?”

katsuki frowns, and his glare remains trained on the two of them. but there’s a slight restraint in his movements—one that’s only noticeable to you.

he’s trying to stay calm, and it’s all because he doesn’t want to wake your little girl up. you can practically feel the tension in the air as his patience wears thin.

sero, naturally, chimes in with a smirk of his own. “I’ve gotta hand it to you, man. I never thought I’d see the day when you’d be ‘aww’ing over a baby like some mushy ball of fluff.”

katsuki’s mouth opens, ready to fire back, but then he glances down at your sleeping daughter, her little chest rising and falling peacefully, and he shuts it again.

for a split second, his fierce expression softens. he takes a deep breath, holding the baby a little tighter.

“you’re lucky she’s asleep, or I would've blasted your asses to oblivion,” he grumbles, but the threat is half-hearted.

kaminari lets out a nervous laugh. “jeez, man, alright, we get it.”

you can’t help but chuckle softly, leaning against the doorframe as you watch them.

katsuki’s eyes narrow in warning, but despite his frown, there’s a warmth to his expression that doesn’t go unnoticed when he looks back at d/n.

it’s moments like these when the rest of the world seems to disappear, and it's just him, her, and the quiet calm they share.

sighing in resignation, he shifts slightly, walking over to you. you watch as he makes his way across the room, still cradling your daughter in his arms, her tiny hands gripping his shirt as she drifts into a deeper sleep.

you don’t say anything at first, but as he gets closer, you meet his gaze with a soft smile.

there’s no denying the softening effect he has when it’s just the two of you—well, the three of you, if you count the tiny bundle in his arms.

he leans into you as he steps to your side, his broad shoulders brushing against yours, and without a word, he tilts his head slightly toward you, seeking the quiet comfort of being beside you.

“I told them to shut up,” katsuki mutters, his voice lower now, quieter. his usual fiery energy is subdued, and he seems content to just be in your presence.

he exhales slowly, letting the weight of the situation fade away. you reach up and gently touch his arm, a soft laugh escaping you.

"she's lucky you’re her dad," you murmur, your eyes flickering down to where your daughter is curled against his chest. "you’re so patient with her."

katsuki scoffs lightly, rolling his eyes, but the smile tugging at his lips betrays his true feelings.

“I’m not some damn pushover,” he mutters, but there’s a softness in his tone that makes you want to kiss him.

and you do.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

#bnha x reader #mha x y/n #mha x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x you #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki x reader #katsuki x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader

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ilylovelyz · 7 months ago

Text

⍣ ೋ Rom-Com Gone Wrong

˚ · . bakugou katsuki x afab!reader

: ̗̀➛ takes place during their third year, mentions of injuries and blood, forced intake of aphrodisiac, unestablished relationship, mutual pining, love confession, both characters are 18, protected sex, implied unprotected sex, virgnity loss, misunderstandings, a bit angsty, bakugou is lowky ooc and gentle, this is really long

following a rough battle with a rather inconvenient villian and his quirk, y/n finds herself induced with aphrodisiac against her will. she wins the encounter, only to be told if she doesn't relieve her sexual desires within 24 hours with another individual she will die.

"i'll be the one to do it," mineta says, trying to sound nonchalant about the situation, flipping his non-existent hair off to the side if his shoulder. the girls, in unison, disagree verbally, knowing of his creepy tendencies.

"can't she just do it with a girl?" tsuyuri thinks aloud, attempting to find an easy way for you to feel more comfortable with the situation. "if that's the case, then i'll do it!" ashido declares, raising her hand in the air.

this has been the subject of conversation for the past hour or so. yes, your classmates and even teachers are conversing on what to do about your current state, on who will be the one to sleep with you. it's almost heartwarming, to know that your classmates care so much about you that they'd be willing to sleep with you if it means you'll live.

which is exactly what it means. exactly nine hours ago, you had a confrontation with a well-wanted villian. you knew of the risks, you knew of his horrendous and taboo quirk. you knew that he used his quirk to take advantage of women who were defenseless and practically leaving them for dead within 24 hours of interaction.

quirks like these were rare, none of your classmates nor teachers had any experience with this type of thing. originally, the teachers were going to discuss of this situation privately, but after almost three hours had gone by with no real possible solutions, they had decided to involve your dearest classmates to come up with something, anything to help save your life.

"no, according to the villian and the tiny information we were able to get out of him, it has to be done with a male." midnight had said, rubbing at her temple to ease her stress. your female classmates groaned with frustration, side-eyeing mineta with disgust.

"t-then i'll do it!" a new contender had volunteered. "y-you? y/n needs a real man, denki—," jirou had said, trying to play of her nervousness with a chuckle. "i agree." momo said sternly.

"no offense but.. how about the boys leave this discussion to the boys." she added on, having distrust in the intentions of her male classmates. "i know you boys just want to do what you can to help her, but we also have to think about how this will affect her mentally."

the topic carried on with the girls, occasionally one of the boys attempted to give a idea, but were almost immediately shot down due to it's risk.

admist to all the tension and debate, there was one who was uncharacteristically quiet. bakugou katsuki.

all of the boys were huddled into a circle, behind the girls, listening into their plan. however, it was bakugou who stuck out like a sore thumb. he kept his hands in his pockets, a rather stoic expression written onto his face as he stared up to the ceiling.

"i'll do it! you guys just gotta trust me!" mineta yelled once more, his body jolting with fear when he was met with clear resistance from the girls.

everyone was too wrapped up in figuring out a game-plan to even notice that bakugou had taken his leave, muttering a scoff at his classmates's immaturity and perversion.

he made his way to the dorms, his hand rubbing at the tense skin of his nape. bakugou stopped in his tracks, seemingly he wasn't the only one who had the same idea. his hands returned to their place in his pockets, his eyebrows furrowing at the sight of his classmate, todoroki shouto, standing a few feet away from your dorm room.

"what are you doing here?" bakugou asked, resting his body weight on his right leg. todoroki looked back at bakugou calmly, observing the blonde's stiff movements. "i want to help y/n-san." todoroki stated, glancing back at the door of your room.

bakugou scoffed at his answer, rolling his eyes to the back of his head. "yeah right—you?" he hissed, coming up to todoroki and shoving him away from your door. "don't make me laugh. i'll be the one to do it."

todoroki stayed in place for a moment, blinking at bakugou's aggression and determination. he glanced once more at your door, and then back to bakugou before sighing with defeat and turning around to head god knows where.

bakugou scoffed once more, not taking his eyes off todoroki until he was well out of his sight. bakugou turned around, his red eyes staring intently at your door. he chewed on the walls of his mouth, wondering how to go about the situation.

as brash as he may be—he's not an idiot. he knows that if you don't end up getting any help within a few mere hours, you'll die. and thats not what he wants. to stand and watch while his dumb classmates argue over who will be the one to have the honor of having sex with you is something he won't abide with.

ೄྀ࿐

a soft moan escaped your lips at the feel of your fingers caressing against your sensitive folds. a drop of sweat ran down your flushed face, running down to your collarbone and dampening the sheer tank you were wearing.

there was a knot in your abdomen, a very tight knot, that has been yet to be undone. normally, when you had this kind of urge, you'd be able to satisfy it yourself. but it's been nearly eight hours since you'be been drugged, and the effects only get more and more intense with every passing minute.

you're tired. your body is coated in a thick layer of sweat, the room smells grossly of your own scent, and it's been eight hours—yet no release. tears sting at your waterline, your hand coming up to cover your pathetic whines and cries as your fingers scissor their way into your cunt, trying to find relief to your frustration.

you gasp with pleasure when your finger nails press ever so slightly against that one spot, hazy eyes going wide when you finally find it. your back arches off the bed, toes curling when you can barely press your fingerpads against that sweet spot, but nonetheless it's something.

your body jolts when you hear a light knock at your door, hands flying to grab onto your blanket to hide your half-naked body. you sat frozen on your bed, eyes watching the door.

a couple of moments later, once again the visitor knocked, snapping you out of your haze. you rushed to find any pajamas or clothes to wear, eventually settling on a pair of grey pajama shorts. the visitor knocks again once more, earning a groan from you. "g-give me a second!" you hiss loudly, dusting off your body and finally walking up to your door.

with a deep inhale, you open up your door a few inches, hiding your sweat-ridden body behind the large frame and peeking out your head to see the visitor.

your heart drops into your stomach at the sight of the familar blonde, his red eyes lidded low at you. "b-bakugou?" you stutter out, your cheeks blushing intensely when you feel your core throb at just the sight of him. "what... are you doing here?" you say, swallowing down the fat lump in your throat.

bakugou stares at you, his facial expressions uncharacteristically calm and unreadable. "..isn't it obvious?" he says nonchalantly, taking a step towards the door. his low tone heats up your body, making you impossibly warmer with embarrassment to top it off with your seemingly insatiable desire.

still, you don't move from the door, and if anything, push it forward so only a few centimeters remain between the frame and the door itself. your forehead rests against the wood, contemplating your options.

bakugou katsuki has come to your door to do the obvious with you. for many others, this would be a dream come true—and it almost is, for you, almost. tears cloud your vision once more at the thoughts that run throughout your head, he's only here because you'll die.

"let me in y/n,—", "no, i don't want you here." you interrupt, still hiding behind the door. bakugou's eyes widen slightly at your refrusal, not expecting you to shut him down given the situation.

to you, it's almost insulting—bakugou katsuki is here to have sex with you, to save you. your crush of many years, is here to have sex with you, but only because he feels the need to save you, not because he wants to.

bakugou sighs silently, he knows its a sensitive matter, that you're practically forced to have sex with someome that you possibly don't like just to live. his fists tighten up into a ball, his eyebrows furrowing at your stubbornness. but he won't have you die, he won't knowing he could help you.

"y/n. open the door or i'm going to break it down myself." he says sternly, his voice raising slightly. it sends shivers down your spine, but still you hold your ground. alas, you find it within yourself to close the door, only for it to be held open by bakugou who most definitely overpowers you when it comes to strength. with a grunt, your already weak arms give in, quickly dropping back to the floor as the door slams against the wall now that bakugou has won the short game of tug-o-war.

bakugou makes his way into your room, not even caring to check if the door handle has made a new hole in the wall. his mouth opens, ready to say something, only to purse into a straight line when he sees the tears flowing down your cheeks.

"i don't want you here." you mumble out, attempting to hide your tears by wiping them away as quick as they came.

with a grunt, bakugou is pulling you up to your feet, his hands gripping onto your shoulders while his lips smash against yours. the kiss is rough, almost uncomfortably stiff. and yet, you almost let out a moan of satisfaction just by him giving the worst kiss ever. he pulls away a moment later, his hands keeping you in place.

not like you'd be able to walk away even if you wanted, your gaze was fixated on his soft features, eyeing those lips of his. this time, it's bakugou whose walking away—and it's you who is running after him.

with haste, you push yourself forward to the blonde, your hand wrapping around his wrist and pulling him back to you. bakugou breathes out a grunt when your lips collide with his once more, desperate and clumsy, more teeth than tongue. you can't help but grab into bakugou's broad shoulders before finding better purchase by wrapping them around his neck, feet on all toes in order to reach his lips.

bakugou pulls away from you, quickly shutting the door and locking it. though, he barely has time to do the second, as soon as the door is closed, you're pushing him against it and shoving your body against his, encapturing his lips with yours once again. he swallows your desperate whines, his tongue fighting for dominance against yours. it's messy, it's not at all in sync—but just that alone has your body heating up than what you thought was possible.

and bakugou can feel it. his hands find purchase on the small of your waist—your skin is hot to the touch, almost fever hot. he raises an eyebrow when the feel of his skin on yours alone has you letting out a soft moan, much to your embarrassment. experimentally, bakugou's hands travel down to the curve of your ass, squeezing the plump flesh lightly, earning a gasp from your lips.

seeing this, bakugou pulls away from you, a fat string of saliva connecting the two of you. his red eyes watch you tortuously, watching the way your delicate features contort with pleasure as his hands explore your ass, his squeezes getting more and more rough as your body reacts. his finger glides up to the hems of your shorts, playing with the drawstrings and eventually pulling on one to untie the knot, allowing your flimsy excuse of so-called shorts to drop and lay around your feet.

your cheeks burn at the way he stares closely at your half-naked body, eyes darting down to the ground when you realize that you didn't even put on any underwear. to you, bakugou is eyeing your body, looking for any imperfections and unsatisfying marks.

but to bakugou, he has to hold back a groan by biting on his lower lip at the sight of your bare cunt. his hands tighten it's grip on your hips, attempting to keep his composure. bakugou finally pushes himself off the door, leading you quickly by the small of your waist to your bed.

with a gentle shove, you're laying down onto your back, your legs dangling off the edge of the mattress. your eyes widen when bakugou's hands grab the hems of his shirt, pulling it up to his head and discarding of his shirt, revealing his rather toned abs and few scars he's gained in the various fights he's gotten into as a hero.

your mouth is agape in awe, practically drooling at the sight of his fit muscles and small waist. without another word, your hand subconsciously reaches for him, generously touching the muscles of his abdomen. for the first time of the night, bakugou finally shows some emotion, smirking widely at your infatuation with his abs.

"i know i got some great abs, huh?" he grins, his hand coming up to rest on the flesh of your thigh. his grin flattens to an slightly agape 'O' when your hand travels down lower to his lower pelvis, your nails caressing the skin, sending shivers down his spine. dangerously, it continues, your fingers meddling with the edge of his baggy pants, circling the metal button.

before you could do anything else, bakugou is grabbing your hand away, and much to your surprise, settles himself inbetween your bare legs, eyeing your exposed cunt. naturally, you rush to close your legs, but are stopped by his hands that rest on both of your inner thighs.

"don't try to hide yourself from me." he growls lowly, his cock growing hard in his pants at the fuller sight of your glistening cunt. a yelp leaves your throat when you are pulled closer to the edge of your bed, cunt mere centimeters from bakugou's face. your eyes close shut, palm hiding your face in embarrassment.

"open your damn eyes, you're gonna watch as i eat this pretty pussy." he hisses out before blowing lightly onto your folds, enjoying the way your thighs shiver. with a lick of his lips, bakugou dives into your cunt, his tongue dragging across your folds and into your core. you let out a rather loud moan at the feel of his tongue exploring your cunt, your hands diving down to entangle themselves in his short blonde locks.

as told, you watch bakugou devour your poor pussy through tears, moaning into your palm to not let anyone hear the way you're getting eaten out by one of your classmates. your eyes roll to the back of your head when you feel bakugou enter his index finger into your tight walls, massaging your gummy walls without mercy.

"bakugou.." you mewl out, back arching off the bed when you feel the knot in your stomach begin to unravel. the fingers tied in his hair pull tightly on his roots, earning a hum of satisfaction leave his lips, vibrating against your clit so deliciously it has you sobbing out his name within seconds and squirming within his tight hold as you cum. tears run down your cheeks as your body convulses with pleasure, eyebrows furrowed intensely as your first orgasm of the night washes over you.

a minute later, you finally come down to earth, chest heaving heavily as your eyes focus down to bakugou who licks up the remains of your delicious juices. it's so over stimulating, but it feels so good, the way his tongue laps up your cum as if he was a starved man.

for a second, you close your eyes, basking in the sweet after-glow of your orgasm before a familar vibrating sound snaps you out of your bliss. bakugou holds up the pink bullet-vibrator within his hand, cocking his head to the right. "this yours?" he asks teasingly, a sly grin painted into his face.

before you could respond, bakugou is pressing the bullet against your clit, sending waves of overstimulated pleasure up your spine. you wiggle and shift on your bed, attempting to get away from it, from him, but in the heat of the moment you seem to have forgotten of bakugou's trained strength. he pins your hips onto the bed with ease with one hand, and holds the bullet to your clit with the other.

he evilly chuckles into your cunt, his tongue gliding into your tight hole. your cries and pleas are melodies to his ears, and he only stops when your thighs are shaking for a second time around his head and your pussy walls are tightening up around his tongue. he hungrily laps up your fluids once more, the tip of his nose brushing up against your clit as he discards of the vibrator in order to grab onto the back of your thighs and practically smothers himself into your pussy.

finally, once he's deemed you cleaned up and not an ounce of your cum wasted, he pulls away from your drenched pussy. his chin glistens with your juices, his tongue lapping up any remains on his lips. his ruby red eyes watch as your chest heaves up and down, his hand grabbing your wrist that was covering your flushed face and discarding it to the side.

he passionately kisses you, not like the kisses you two shared earlier. rather, your inhaling his heavy breaths as his hips roll subconsciously into yours, his hard-on poking against your inner thigh. "bakugou.." you exhaled against his lips, your hand sliding inbetween your close bodies to palm his confined cock.

bakugou lets out a almost pained groan, his eyebrows furrowing at the feel of your hand brushing against his cock's tip. "fuck.." he groans, his head dipping down to your chest when your hand slides below his trousers and over his confined boner. "wanna help you too bakugou," you mumble shyly, batting those pretty eyelashes at him.

the tempered blonde seems to have been frozen in place at your unexpected boldness, his cock growing impossibly harder at your words. he curses under his breath when your hand glides in between the gap of his boxers, your fingers coming into contact with the skin of his cock.

you're so unexpected. it's all bakugou can ever think of. unlike all the others, you've surprised him the most. you've surprised him with your wits—instead of strength and speed. no matter how mean or offensive he's been to you, you've been nothing but a saint—going so far to even nurse him back to health after a particularly aggressive battle with a villian.

thats why he had to be the one to help you. after all you've done for him, he had to return the favor in the one time he could save your life, even if it meant having sex would save you. he wasn't about to let those ungrateful, clueless extras do it with you either when they didn't deserve the opportunity to have you so vulnerable for them.

and having sex with you doesn't seem too bad, not in the slightest. especially not when your hand is pumping his cock so deliciously. bakugou's lips apart slightly, a sharp gasp escaping when your palm tightens around his sensitive cock.

you jolt when bakugou's own hand wraps around your wrist firmly, practically slapping it away from his cock. you look up at him with filmy eyes, looking for an explanation within his own. "gotta focus on you," he mumbles under his breath, his hands coming down to your hips and dragging you down to him.

bakugou finally begins to undo his belt, the metal buckle causing your ears to tingle. he pushes down his pants to his lower thighs, for a second he glances up at you, to which you can see a small glimpse of the red tint that covers the apples of his cheeks and the way he stares intently at your features, most likely waiting to see your reaction.

he slides his dark red boxers down to the middle of his thighs, just enough to free his cock of his uncomfortable confines. and, just wow, maybe it's because you're quite literally drugged with a sex drug, or maybe he's just that perfect—but just the sight of his cock has your pathetic pussy walls clenching and throbbing around nothing.

your mouth salivates at the mere thought of his cock, and just now seeing it—god you just want him to fuck you already. without a thought, your hand reaches once more for him, only for bakugou to pin your wrist down to the side of your body, his own climbing on top of the bed. your legs come to rest on each sides of his hips, his thighs underneath yours while he sits on his knees.

it seems you're not the only one so horny, afterall, as bakugou wrapped his hand around cock, his hips inching closer to yours, his body jolted, eyes widening. his sudden movement has your heart dropping in your stomach, a cold sweat breaking out on your body. "w-what? what is it?" you stutter out, your hand crossing defensively over your clothed chest.

bakugou's cheeks seem to bloom more a shade of red as he leans back, searching for something in his pocket. "hah.. i almost forgot the condom.." he says, taking out the unmistaken small square packet out of his pocket.

you chuckle lightly at the mistake, feeling embarrassment for yourself as well. to think that you two were so wrapped up in the heat of the moment that you almost forgot the condom gives such a strange feeling in your stomach.

finally, bakugou puts the condom on, a bit shaky with embarrassment as he slides it on. all prepared, he looks up at you—possibly the calmest you've ever seen him, but there's a hint of seriousness and maybe even care with the way his eyebrows are furrowed lightly or how his eyes never leave your face.

"ready?" he asks cautiously, his hand gripped onto the underside of your thigh with the other resting on the side of your lower stomach. with your nod of approval, bakugou meets his thighs to your ass, his cock tip pressing lightly against your virgin hole.

before bakugou could go any further, your soft sobs stop him. his head immediately snaps up to yours, his eyes wide with shock. your eyes are once again wet with tears, eyebrows arched and lips frowning.

"i know this is not very convenient, y/n, but if we don't do this, you'll die-", he tries to say before he's interrupted by your sobs and hiccups. through fat tears and incoherent sentences, you finally manage to say something clear.

"it's not that." you practically hiss, surprising the blonde. "..then what is it?" he urges, a confused expression forming on his face. with a loud sigh, you groan loudly with anger and sadness, practically throwing your hands to your face as you try to wipe away your never-ending tears.

"i d-didn't want it to be like t-this!" you sob loudly, your shoulders jumping with every hiccup. before bakugou could press any further, the years of untold suffering and thoughts just came rushing to you, spilling out of your mouth like vomit. "i-i didn't w-want it to be l-like this! to happen like this!"

"oh my g-god! bakugou i've been in love with you since i've m-met you—and it–it hurts—for it to happen this way—you're only doing this just b-because you f-feel obligated to do i-it—not because you l-love me—" you mumble out, hands covering your eyes to avoid seeing his reaction.

"for it to ha-happen this way—it's like a whole prank..! like a fucking—slap in the face!" you say, practically yelling the last part as your hands fly down to the bed with frustration, finally meeting bakugou's gaze. your sobs quiet down, stomach churning at the realization of the word vomit you just had.

you thought he would be weirded out, maybe even make fun of you for it. but instead, bakugou is now looking at you with an unfamiliar gaze, full of something that seems to just be more than politeness and friendly care. sure, he's not smiling, but the way his red eyes are half-lidded, pupils dilated so big they might as well just be black, his eyebrows no longer furrowed but instead arched upwards with what seems to be surprise.

before you could say anything else, waves of sharp pain are shot up your spine as bakugou unexpectedly pushes in the tip of his cock, his arms now finding purchase by wrapping around your waist, lowering himself closer to you.

his lips press yours, slow and steady as he inches his fat cock into you. he pulls away from your lips with a grunt, his eyebrows arched downwards as he tries to set aside the way your cunt feels so heavenly wrapped around the end of his cock.

"i'm sorry for how i've been treating you." he says lowly, his teeth nipping at the pristine skin of your collarbone. "i just didn't know how to tell you—didn't think you felt the s-same," he breathes out, stuttering the last word when your walls clench around his cock. bakugou curses under his breath, trying to ground himself by pawing at your clothed breasts, sliding his hands under your tank to feel the bare skin.

bakugou's words has fresh tears forming once again at your water line. "the same..?" you think out loud, a hiccup escaping your throat at the realization.

"f-fuck, y/n—," he chokes out, his balls becoming flush with the curve of your ass. "bakugou.. the same?" you urge on, a small gasp leaving your lips when his cock tip glazes against your sweet spot. it takes bakugou to find the strength to answer, but he does with a groan, rising his upper body to have a better look at the sight of you.

"..yes the same you dummy." he finally confirms, his eyes unable to lock with yours, instead choosing to glue themselves to the sight of your tight pussy swallowing his cock. without wasting another second, your hands fly to his nape, pulling him back down to kiss him roughly. the two of you moan into the kiss, your hands desperately exploring the skin of his back while his continue to grope and massage your breasts.

"hah—i just couldn't allow it.. i didn't want the others to have you.." he groans out, his hips speeding up against yours. his teeth bite at your breasts possessively, leaving dark red marks over the unmarked flesh. his possessiveness sends a shiver up your spine, making you impossibly more hornier than you thought possible.

"baku—katsuki," you mewl out, your fingernails digging trails of red into the skin of his back. his head nods silently at your use of his first name, his ears tingling intensely.

his head tilts up to face yours, unprepared for what you were about to say. "please fuck me. i need you."

with a few words of heavy profanity, all previously known touches of gentleness are thrown out the window and bakugou is throwing your leg over shoulder and practically folding you in half. bakugou is quick to cover your mouth with his palm, if not your screams of pleasure would be heard by all the other people in these dorms—and he's not quite on board with any nobodies hearing your pretty moans.

bakugou practically jackhammers his hips into yours, his cock tip bullying your cervix. your eyes roll to the back of your head at the foreign feeling of your cervix being fucked, of your cunt being mercilessly destroyed by a fat cock. your hand flies up to the head board, desperately attempting to find purchase on anything to keep you grounded.

his cock grazing your sweet spot has you screaming once more into his palm, creaming around him for the first time that night. "f-fuck—" bakugou curses loudly, his teeth drawing blood on his lower lip in an attempt to hide own moans.

your cunt walls have a vice grip on his cock, practical almost leaving him unable to move as you cum around him. still, bakugou works his hips in and out, doing everything in his power to prevent himself from cumming just yet.

in an last ditch effort to do so, bakugou lifts his palm up from your mouth, flipping your body so you lay onto your stomach. he's quick to shove his cock back into your overstimulated cunt, rutting into you like a dog in heat. bakugou doesn't find it within himself to care when you're moaning so loud that the first floor can probably hear you, neither does he care that he's fucking you so hard that the bed frame begins to slam against the wall.

all he cares about is destroying your cunt, destroying you, something he's been wanting to do since he's met you. "fuck, fuck, fuck, y/n you feel so fuckin' good—i'm gonna cum," he babbles, his cock growing hard at the sight of your fat ass bouncing with every impact of his thrusts.

you're no better off than him, moaning his name desperately like a mantra. bakugou finally comes with a sharp and deep thrust, pushing his cock so deep it has the tip flush with your bruised cervix. he groans incoherent words, most likely profanities, as he cums into the condom, his hands gripping on the swell of your hips as he tries to ground himself.

you cum just at the unmistaken warmth that pools inside of you, tongue lolling out of your mouth pathetically. your body twitches underneath his weight, hands weakly grabbing onto his biceps. "katssshuki.." you mewl out, stars practically twinkling in your eyes.

bakugou pulls out of you with a sharp inhale, taking off the filled condom. his cock twitches when you stop him just as he's about to throw away, taking the cum-filled latex from his hand and holding it over your mouth, allowing the cum to drip onto your tongue and into your throat.

he watches you with wide eyes as you practically suck the cum out of the condom before throwing it into the trash bin on the side of your bed. you look at him with a grin, licking your lips generously before giggling.

bakugou's face twitches uncontrollably, any remains of the composure and the obvious "better safe than sorry", he has left is discarded before he practically pounces on you like a wild beast.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

bakugou is jolted awake, his eyes darting to the door of your room. theres a couple of knocks, his eyes look for your clock, '5:04 AM'.

he shuts his eyes, fully okay with ignoring the late visitor before theres more knocks. bakugou, begrudgingly, gets up, only because he doesn't want you to wake up.

he wraps his lower body in a spare blanket, taking a few seconds to rub awaken more before he's inching the door open, just barely enough to see who the visitor is. though, his shoulders relax when he sees it's just mr. aizawa at the door, most likely checking up on your state.

mr. aizawa blinks unexpectedly at bakugou, surely not expecting him to answer the door. his expression softens at the realization, being quick to offer an explanation. "i was just coming here to see if y/l/n was alright.. but i see it's under control, right?"

aizawa punctuates the last word of his sentence with the tilt of his head, his eyes pointing out bakugou's half-naked body. bakugou in response sheepishly shrugs, muttering out a groggy 'yeah' before closing the door.

he stands at the closed door for a second, rubbing his eyes tiredly before turning around to go back to bed, your bed more specifically. he stops in his tracks for a moment before continuing, seeing that you're now sitting up and staring at him.

"katsuki.." you breathe out tiredly, practically purring when you feel his hand settle onto your hip, bringing you back down onto the bed with him.

the two of you share a chaste kiss, departing only to get a short breathe in before you're pushing your body against his, deepening the kiss once more for the nth time that night.

please like and reblog with tags

#bakugou x reader angst #bakugou katsuki angst #bakugou x reader smut #bakugou katsuki smut #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou smut #bakugou katuski x reader #my hero academia fluff #my hero academia angst #my hero academia smut

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gloomwitchwrites · 1 month ago

Note

How about some silliness.....reader/you is superrr drunk from a night out with friends or high from anesthesia and the guys are trying to take care of them and we are all like "get your hands off me or my husband will kick you ass!" Or "omg you're so hot are you single??"...and they are just dying laughing like "I am your husband!"

I just watched one too many tik toks of this 😂🤣

Oh, I love this. I don't think I've actually seen these videos before (at least on TT) but I do know what you're talking about. Maybe I've seen it more in other media? Like movies and television? Anyway, I understand what you're asking for, so I hope you enjoy what I've cooked up!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (MDNI): swearing, established relationship, fluff, mild alcohol use, shenanigans due to drunkenness & anesthesia

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

John stands beside you on the passenger side of the car. The car door is open, and all you need to do is slide inside. Instead, you’re arguing with him, insisting that you can get in yourself, and that you don’t need help.

“You just had surgery,” chides John.

“Minor surgery,” you correct.

“It’s still surgery.” John sighs, and then places his hand on your back. “Let me help you.”

“Hands off, sir. You’re not my husband.”

John does not move his hand. “I don’t remember us getting a divorce, love.”

You wave him off and John snorts. “He’ll kick your ass,” you insist. “Punch you right in the nose.”

John’s stern demeanor cracks, dissolving into a wide smile and a soft chuckle. He shakes his head in disbelief. “I’m your bloody husband. You’re stuck with me. Forever.”

“I’m serious,” you say. Turning, you attempt to jab him in the chest with your finger. Everything tilts, and you only hit air.

John sighs, exasperated. “Get in the car, love.”

“No,” you groan, pushing at his chest. You surrender to him, allowing John to help you into the front passenger seat.

“I hope you remember this after the drugs wear off.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

You’ve been out with your friends all evening, and you have no idea what times it is. It’s dark, and you didn’t leave until the bar closed, forcing you to make an exit. Someone called for a car, and you all piled in, dropping each of off one by one.

As you enter the dark bedroom, you kick off your shoes, slightly stumbling to turn on the bedside light. You turn it on, and immediately wince. Vision swimming, you rub at your eyes, and then notice the massive lump in your bed.

“Turn off the bloody light, will you?” mumbles Johnny.

A devious plan forms in your head.

You climb onto the bed, crawling toward him. Noticing, Johnny turns toward you, eyes dreary with sleep.

“What?” he asks just before you flop your entire body onto him.

“Hi,” you whisper.

“Hi,” he deadpans.

You wiggle over him, pressing the tip of your nose against his. “You seeing anyone, handsome?”

Johnny arches an eyebrow. “Did you hit your head or something? I am your husband.”

“Lucky me.”

Johnny blows raspberries. With one good shove, he flips you onto your back on your side of the bed.

“Go to bed. You’re drunk.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Your liquor-addled brain tells you to do it.

Across the bar is danger, the kind you want to play with—to sink your teeth into. Why resist temptation when it’s clear that the masked man across the bar can’t seem to take his eyes off you? Every time you glance in his direction, his gaze is focused and intense, daring you to approach him.

Which is exactly what you do.

He follows your every step, even if there is a slight sway in the way you walk. As you approach, he leans back in his chair, legs widening as if in welcome. It’s easy to reach out, to place your hand on his shoulder, to straddle his thighs, and stare into his eyes.

“You’ve been staring at me all night,” you slur. “Plan on going home with anyone?”

“I am,” the masked man replies.

“And who might that be?”

“My wife.”

You turn in his lap, looking around at all the other patrons in the bar. “Don’t see her.”

“Course you don’t,” he chuckles. “Because she’s sitting in my lap.”

You blink. “Is she?”

“You’re my wife,” he whispers.

“I am…aren’t I?”

He shakes his head. “I’m cutting you off.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

The alcohol is an enabler. You shouldn’t have had as many drinks as you did, but this is a party, and you’re not the one driving.

Why not have a bit of fun?

“Hi.”

Kyle arches an eyebrow. “Hi,” he replies, drawing out the greeting in slight confusion.

You cozy up next to him, shoulder brushing against shoulder.

“So,” you begin, head tilting toward him like you’re about to whisper all your secrets. “I’m going to be a bit bold…”

“Go on.”

“But I think you’re cute. Wanted to know if you’re seeing anyone.”

Kyle’s single raised eyebrow becomes two. There’s a long pause, so long that you notice the absence of conversation.

Kyle’s confusion cracks, becoming a wide smile, followed by his adorable, familiar laughter. “You’re taking the piss, love.”

“I’m not joking.”

He laughs harder, clutching his chest like he can’t breathe.

“I’m your husband,” he manages to say between wheezing breaths.

“I know,” you reply. “Just checking to make sure you’re still loyal.”

He waves his hand in the air before him. “You’ve had enough. Give me that.” He plucks your beverage right out of your hands.

“Excuse me,” you protest, but Kyle is already downing it.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@fern-reads @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

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@itsberrydreemurstuff @z-wantstowrite @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

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glamourscat · 1 month ago

Text

attractive things they do while dating

TIM, JASON, DICK, STEPH

TIM

takes notice of the little things you like. You mention an obscure author that only has published three books and are impossible to find? He will find them for you.

tim doesn’t just pay attention, he catalogs the little details about you as naturally as breathing.

he notices when you always take your coffee with an extra splash of cream or when your knee bounces whenever you’re nervous. Without saying a word, he adjusts.

one day, as you work late, you find a steaming cup of your favorite drink on your desk with a note: thought you’d need this.

JASON

reads to you. It starts small, Jason offhandedly mentions some book he loves, and you express interest. Or maybe you are also a fan.

one day, he comes over, pulls out a battered copy and starts reading aloud. His voice is deep, smooth, and surprisingly gentle as he brings the story to life.

eventually, it becomes a ritual. Curling up together with him flipping pages, his voice filling the silence. You end up falling in love with the stories because they remind you of him.

annotates passage in his books that remind him of you. He has sticky notes, tabs and pen smudges all around the book as he marks down his favourite line that remind him of you.

line that he might, or might not, use it on you while shamelessly flirting.

DICK

Playfully spins you around. Dick’s touch is light and effortless, as if he never truly left behind the circus. Whenever he sees you, his smile lights up the room, and without fail, he grabs your hand and spins you like you’re the star of his act

And when he’s feeling extra playful, he’ll dip you dramatically like in some cheesy romance movie, his grin wide and teasing as he leans in to kiss you.

STEPH

leaves little doodles and notes for you everywhere. Stephanie is pure sunshine in human form and her love language is written in colourful markers, sparkling stickers and sticky notes. You’ll find them everywhere, tucked in your jacket pocket, stuck to your laptop screen or even hidden behind cupboards doors.

some notes are silly. Others are sweet, like: You’re the best thing about my day, my sun to my moon. My air for my lungs.

sometimes, she even draws little cartoons of the two of you. Sometimes as two vigilantes. Others as characters from your guys favourite show.

#tim drake x reader #tim drake #jason todd x reader #jason todd #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #stephanie brown x reader #stephanie brown #dc x reader #dc #x reader

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steddieprompts · 1 month ago

Text

part 2 of this thing

The rest of the night the two sat on the couch, ate icecream and watched shitty comedy movies. Steve finally got Eddie to watch Major League and Eddie had to admit it was his favorite sports movie so far.

Eddie fell asleep on the couch as usual and Steve covered him with a blanket before heading to his room for the night.

They didn't talk about the situation with Tommy after that night. In all honestly Steve was happy to see the back of it as well as Tommy himself. Seeing him again was such a violent flashback to the person he was before... he didn't like thinking about it. He hoped Tommy loved New York so much he never stepped foot in Indiana again.

Of course Steve could never be that lucky.

It was a Monday night and the apartment was sweltering.

"I thought Daryl said he fixed the AC?" Steve said, fiddling with the knobs on the unit.

"Daryl says alot of things" Eddie's voice echoed from where his head was stuck in the freezer.

"Let's just go to the movies. At least their AC works," Steve grumbled.

Eddie pulled his head out of the freezer. "I'm in." He agreed and grabbed his wallet off the counter as he followed Steve out of the apartment... before shoving the handful of icecubes he snuck out of the freezer down the back or Steve's tucked in polo. His screech was so loud old lady Laski stuck her head out of her apartment to yell at them.

"Sorry, Muriel!" Eddie said through his cackling before they shoved their way out of the building.

Inside the theater the air was crisp and cool.

"Genius, Stevie," Eddie said, flipping his hair over the back of the seat and sliding down until his ass was almost off the seat. "I gotta pee," he announced and immediately stood back up. Jesus Christ he heard Steve mutter. "You want popcorn?"

"Nah. I'm good." Steve hummed as he closed his eyes.

After the bathroom, Eddie went to the concession stand and got himself a popcorn (large, because he knew Steve would steal some) and Steve a Sprite with extra ice.

When he turned away from the counter he nearly dropped it though. Across the room, just coming in the door, was Hagan.

Why was he still here? Shouldn't he be back in New York by now?

Eddie decided to ignore him... and the other guy he was with, some jock type Eddie faintly recognized from high school. He headed back towards the theater doors, but he wasn't as inconspicuous as he hoped.

Before he could get into the theater, Tommy sidled in front of the door.

"Well look who it is," Tommy smirked at him. "Out without your little body guard?"

"Body guard? Who, Steve?"

"I know he was lying to protect you. I can't figure out why." Tommy said, taking a threatening step toward Eddie.

He had about enough of this.

Eddie mirrored Tommy, taking a step forward and getting obnoxiously close to his face.

"Tommy, Tommy, Tommy," Eddie said his name like he felt so so bad for him, "Steve, the love of my life, is right in there." He tilted his head towards the door, "And believe me, he wasn't protecting me the other night, he was protecting you."

Eddie stared him down for a second before suddenly sticking out his tongue and making a guttural hiss. Tommy startled and jerked back into his jock friend. "Enjoy your film... and try not to think about what's in the dark." Eddie said sweetly before slipping into the theater, but not without hearing Tommy mutter "Freak" as the door closed.

Eddie hustled back to their seats, nearly spilling half the popcorn on the way.

"Steve!" He whisper yelled as he came down the row. He didn't really need to whisper, though, as the only other people in the theater were a couple teenagers in the back. "Steve!" He said again as he plopped down in his seat.

"What? Is that for me?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got you a Sprite, Tommy is here." Eddie said all in one breath. Steve nearly choked on the sip he took. "And I might have talked to him."

"Eddie..."

"And I might have lead him to believe that I cursed him or something. Hissed in his face."

"Wha... why?"

"He called you my body guard. Oh, and you're the love of my life now."

"Body gu... wait. awww you love me??" Steve said, sickly sweet and batting his eyelashes.

"Madly, darling," Eddie replied in his worst trans-atlantic accent. Steve chuckled.

"He seriously said I was your body guard?"

"Yeah he thinks we're pretending."

"Well fuck him."

"That's what I say," Eddie grumbled. He didn't like being called a liar even when he was one.

At the back of the theater the door opened and Steve peaked behind him through the seats and low and behold... Tommy Hagan.

"It's him," Steve grumbled.

"Huh?" Eddie asked, distracted by the movie previews.

"Tommy." He turned to Eddie. "You haven't suddenly developed boundaries in the last five minutes have you?"

"No, why?"

Steve surged forward, pressing his lips to Eddie's and cupping his jaw. Eddie made a surprised noise before pressing back, his hand finding Steve's waist, fisting his shirt.

After a few seconds Steve pulled back, meaning to look over at Tommy to cement the deal, but he got... distracted, watching Eddie's eyes flutter open, seeing how they danced over Steve's face as he processed.

"I see what the big deal is now," He finally said. Steve let out a soft chuckle, still enraptured by Eddie... and wasn't that a thought.

Eddie looked over Steve's shoulder, picking Tommy out in the dark, the light of the screen highlighting him. Slowly Eddie wiggled his fingers at him in a little wave.

Steve finally looked back at him, just in time for Tommy to storm out of the theater, his new cronie following behind.

"Wow," Eddie mused, "That worked surprisingly well." Eddie looked back at Steve, "You think he's jealous?"

"Dude!" Steve whined before sliding down in his seat.

"Think Tommy wants a little King action?"

"If you don't stop, I'm leaving you here and you can walk home."

Eddie cackled, settling down as the movie started.

But Steve couldn't concentrate. Kissing Eddie was... nice. To be fair, Steve hadn't been with anyone in a while but... that wasn't entirely the reason. He felt something he hadn't felt in a while. As cliche as it sounded... he felt a spark.

Maybe Eddie had felt it too.

The movie went by too fast but when they stepped back outside the sun had set and the heat had dissipated. Tommy was no where to be found.

As they drove home, Eddie was strangely reserved. They talked about the movie, about going to work in the morning, but the conversation didn't take any wild turns like they usually did. Steve didn't even have to scold Eddie for sitting sideways in the seat.

When they got back into the apartment Eddie didn't flop down on the couch or root around in the fridge, just said he was gonna head to bed before going into his room. Steve looked at the clock. It was only 8:30.

He tried to ignore it, but he couldn't. He brushed his teeth, changed his clothes, sat down and turned on the TV, but he couldn't ignore how strange it was. And it wasn't hard to guess why.

He shook out his shoulders before he knocked on Eddie's door.

"Yeah?" Eddie called from inside, Steve could here him quietly picking at his guitar.

"Can we talk? Please?"

The guitar stopped and Eddie opened the door, already in the ratty black Sabath shirt he usually slept in.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry... but I'm not."

"About what?"

"Kissing you like that. I should have... given you more warning."

"It's alright, Steve, I'm not mad."

"Maybe not, but something is wrong."

"It's fine, Steve, don't worry about it."

"No," Steve's hand shot out as Eddie tried to close his door. "I'm sorry, Eddie. I just... Please just talk to me, okay?" His hand dropped from the door, but caught Eddie's fingers on the way. He tangled them together before asking softly, "please?"

Eddie looked at their hands before saying "What is this?" He looked up at Steve taking a steadying breath, but it barely got rid of the tightness, the wobble. "What...?"

"Eddie, I know how this started but I can help but feel maybe... I dont know. I think there's something. Maybe we've been ignoring it."

"Are you fucking with me, Steve? Because I can't..." Eddie hated how his throat was closing up with fear, with hope.

"I'm not, I promise you," Steve stepped forward, tightening his grip on Eddie's hand, "I've never felt so at home with someone, so happy, and kissing you... Eddie. I can't let this go unless you tell me to."

Eddie swallowed, swallowed again, until he got enough courage to lean forward, softly, gently, and pressed his lips to Steve's for the second time that night.

The kiss was soft and gentle until he felt Steve smile against his lips and he couldn't hold back. He felt himself laugh as he pressed forward, Steve pulling him back until they hit the wall across the hall, laughing when it took Steve by surprise. They broke apart, Steve peppering kisses up Eddie's cheek to his temple.

"You uh," Steve said through a smile, "You want to go out sometime?"

Eddie threw his head back as his happiness and relief burst out of him in a laugh. "Yeah, sweetheart," Eddie smiled at him. "Let's go out."

#steddie #with a side of shitty tommy hagan

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willowsnook · 1 month ago

Text

breaking rules

Can we get heavy PDA Joe and everyone’s reaction

joe burrow x gf!reader

—-------------------—----

Your friends made fun of you relentlessly because, to a lot of the outside world, it looked like you and Joe were just friends, distant cousins even. PDA made you very uncomfortable, and that paired well with Joe, who hated anyone prying into his private life. Of course, his teammates and your circle knew that the two of you were together, but the media had yet to catch on, even though you guys lived together.

So imagine your surprise when it was now an hour into the team’s post-season dinner party, and Joe had not left your side. Usually, at these events, you arrive together but then break off, him going to find his boyfriend Ja’Marr, and you going to hang with some of the other WAGs. Then you meet up at the end to leave, and the cycle repeats.

But tonight, Joe’s hand had been snugly placed around your waist, even when you were talking to other people. Missing the playoffs had hit him hard, and you had watched him retreat into his shell these past few weeks; you were there for him when he needed it. So you weren’t shocked at his lack of conversation tonight but surprised by the touch.

The people you were talking to left to grab a drink at the bar, so you took the opportunity to turn to Joe.

“Are you okay?” You asked, concerned.

“Mmhmm,” he mumbled. You looked down at his arm wrapped around you and back up at him, arching an eyebrow. “Just want to be close to you.”

Nodding, you decided you’d let him have a pass tonight to be clingy, even though you were cringing on the inside. Ja’Marr called over to Joe from the other side of the room and you were dragged along to join them. He was sitting on a couch next to Tee, and Joe sat down in an armchair, pulling you down on top of him. Both of his friends’ eyes widened at the sight.

“Never thought I’d see the day,” Ja’Marr said once he came out of shock.

“I thought you guys would never beat the siblings allegations,” Tee chimed in and Joe flipped them off before settling his arms tightly around your waist, pulling you against his chest.

You felt your cheeks flush as you settled into Joe's lap, acutely aware of the eyes on you. Joe seemed unfazed, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your hip as he chatted with Ja'Marr and Tee. You tried to relax, reminding yourself that these were your friends, but you couldn't shake the feeling of exposure.

"You good?" Joe murmured in your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

You nodded, not trusting your voice. Joe pressed a soft kiss to your temple, and you heard Tee let out a low whistle.

"Damn, Joe. Who are you and what have you done with our QB1?" Tee teased.

As the night wore on, Joe's affection only intensified. He peppered kisses along your shoulder, nuzzled into your neck, and whispered sweet nothings in your ear. Your discomfort battled with a growing warmth in your chest at his open displays of love.

"Get a room, you two!" Sam Hubbard called out as he passed by, earning a chorus of laughter and wolf whistles from nearby teammates.

Joe just grinned, pulling you impossibly closer. "Maybe we will," he shot back and you slapped him in the chest.

Deciding you needed some air, you walked off towards the balcony, naturally with Joe right behind you.

“I’m giving you a one-night pass for this kind of behavior only because you’ve been so depressing,” you told him and he smirked at your honesty. He stepped closer to you, sliding his arms around your waist while you rested yours on his shoulders.

“Then I better take advantage hmm,” he said, eyes flickering down to your lips. Before you could protest, his lips were on yours, moving steadily as he found comfort in you. His hands started to dip lower, and you swatted them, causing him to smile against you.

When you pulled back, you gave him an irritated look, and he pouted.

“Come on princess, I just need you,” he admitted and your heart clenched at his words. You knew he was holding on to you like a lifeline and he knew you’d do anything to be there for him.

“Fine, then let’s get a room hot shot,” you said, dragging him off the balcony and towards the front of the venue. Ja’Marr gave you a teasing wave goodbye and you flipped him off.

Joe chuckled at your gesture, his hand laced tightly with yours as you maneuvered through the crowded room. The whispers and knowing smirks from his teammates didn’t faze him in the slightest, but you could feel your cheeks heating up again.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” you muttered as you both stepped outside, the cool night air hitting your face.

“Immensely,” Joe replied, his grin only widening. “Can’t let them think I’m a robot all the time.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed your amusement. Once you reached the car, Joe opened the door for you with a flourish, earning an eye roll that turned into a laugh. He climbed in after you, wasting no time pulling you back into his lap.

“Joe,” you started to protest, but he silenced you with another kiss, this one softer, less teasing, and more vulnerable.

“Thank you,” he murmured against your lips when he finally pulled back, his voice low and sincere. “For putting up with me tonight. For everything.”

Your heart softened as you reached up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. “Always, Joe. I’ve got you.”

His smile this time wasn’t the playful smirk you were used to. It was small, genuine, and filled with gratitude. You let yourself lean into him, your fingers absentmindedly playing with the chain around his neck as the driver started the car.

For all the teasing and awkwardness of the night, you knew one thing for certain: Joe Burrow might not be big on PDA most of the time, but when he let his guard down like this, you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

#nfl imagines #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow #joe burrow x reader

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plutotheplum · 7 months ago

Text

Felt Good About You

akaashi keiji x fem!reader

summary: delivering a revised manuscript to your editor turns into something more.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, fluff, post-time skip, oral sex, vaginal fingering, praise kink, handjob, p in v

wc: 4.8k

a/n: i'm afraid i have the fattest crush on akaashi

also on ao3!

“The romance isn’t working.”

You groan when your editor pushes your manuscript for this week’s chapter towards you. You didn’t need any more bumps in the road, not when you were already running behind on deadlines, with the publishing company breathing down your neck to get the next volume out.

“The romance is fine, Akaashi” you mumble, flicking through the pages of the manuscript to skim through his notes.

“If it was fine, I wouldn’t be here,” he replies dryly.

Akaashi was as blunt as ever. Most of the time you appreciated his honesty, he was the reason for such success with your manga after all, but sometimes he managed to get on your nerves.

“It’s an unnecessary subplot,” he continues, flipping through a couple of pages to show you a few of the panels you had drawn, “there’s just no plausible progression between the two, no chemistry.”

You glare at him. He was really starting to get on your nerves. Akaashi rolls his eyes when he sees your glare, reaching out to flick your forehead.

“You’re already behind on the scheduled publishing date,” he reminds you, crossing his arms over his chest, “and I get the short end of the stick because I’m your editor.”

“The higher-ups love you,” you retort.

You stare pointedly at the small stash of awards that were tucked onto a shelf in his office, the small trophies and plaques a clear display of the company’s commendation for his work.

“Not enough to let me work in the literature department,” he mutters bitterly.

“I’m right here!” you protest, an exasperated expression spreading across your face.

“Yeah, yeah,” Akaashi murmurs.

He taps your manuscript a few more times before giving you a stern look.

“Get me the revised version by tonight, otherwise you’ll miss out on this week’s issue.”

You curse him under your breath, giving him one final glare as you gather the pages of your manuscript into your hands. You had come into his office thinking he’d been fine with the story, but now you had somehow ended up with more work than before, and an even tighter deadline.

A few hours later, you end up finding yourself outside Akaashi’s apartment. Guilt had won out in the end, and you figured that it wasn’t fair to let him take the blame for your tardiness. Revised manuscript clutched against your chest, you ring his doorbell.

You can feel your throat dry when he opens up the door. His hair is damp, towel slung around the back of his neck. He’s wearing an old volleyball shirt with sweatpants, and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to him looking so domestic.

Akaashi stares at you blankly, clearly not expecting you. Usually you would’ve just emailed the revised manuscript over to him, not show up outside his door.

“I felt guilty,” you blurt out, cheeks flushing at the awkwardness in the air, “and- and I ordered gyoza so it should be here in a few minutes.”

“Right,” he says after a moment, “you didn’t have to.”

You stare at each other for a moment longer until he sighs, opening the door wider to let you in.

“You’re just as bad as Bokuto,” he informs you.

The mention of the pro-volleyball player makes a smile spread across your face. You had met Akaashi’s volleyball friends a few times when they had enlisted your help in throwing Akaashi a surprise birthday party - which had maybe ended up in a disaster - as well as when you had wound up to a few of their games.

“He’s a sweet guy,” you reply, handing him your manuscript.

Akaashi only hums in response, walking over to his desk. He hangs his towel on the back of his chair before sitting down. You watch as he slips his glasses on, examining the pages of your now edited work.

“I thought you’d try and fight me about the romance,” he murmurs, his pen making a few adjustments here and there.

“Figured it wasn’t worth it,” you sigh, slumping on the couch in his living room, “you were right, as always.”

He peers over at you, his eyes narrowing as he watches the sulky look on your face. Despite your random bouts of laziness, even Akaashi had to agree that you were a good mangaka whose popularity had built up a loyal reader base.

“Look,” Akaashi says, setting his pen down, “if you’re that hung up about cutting those scenes, start drafting it now.”

Your gaze shoots up to meet his eyes.

“Seriously?” you ask, eyeing him suspiciously.

Akaashi was dedicated, sure, but he wasn’t exactly one to take on extra work. Sometimes you felt as though he would’ve been right at home in the literature department, editing novels instead of volumes of manga. It was like he worked with you out of obligation, not enjoyment, despite the friendship you had built up over the years.

“Yeah,” he says, pushing his glasses up a bit further to sit better on the slope of his nose, “I’m serious.”

You don’t get to dwell any longer on your editor’s change in mind, the sound of the doorbell piercing through your conversation. Akaashi waves you away when you move towards the door, grabbing the delivered containers of gyoza himself.

He sits down beside you on the couch, handing you one container whilst he takes the other. For some reason, you’re feeling more on edge than usual. The brush of his arm against yours has heat rising to your cheeks, body growing taut with the way your stomach is swirling with nervousness.

It was no secret that Akaashi was one of the most handsome men in the office, and you had maybe developed a tiny crush on the man, which was now inflating into something that was not so tiny, and much, much harder to control the more time you spent with him.

“You okay?” Akaashi asks, peering over you.

You don’t trust yourself enough to reply which is why you stuff a gyoza into your mouth and nod rapidly.

Silence lapses over you both as you eat, but you can feel his eyes boring into the side of your head. You pretend not to notice, trying to engross yourself in the taste of the gyoza and the tang of soy sauce.

Akaashi slouches slightly, his body relaxing as time passes. You can see it in the way his shoulders drop, his thighs spreading as he gets more comfortable.

“Instead of adding romance as a subplot, why don’t you make it into another story altogether?”

You blink over at him, surprised.

“I don’t have time to write another manga,” you say, shaking your head, “I’d have to find another publisher if I wanted to write something that was purely romance.”

“Shonen manga in the romance genre exist,” he replies, running his hand through his hair, “or you could just self-publish.”

You’d been hoping to avoid the topic of self-publishing. Sure, you knew of it, participated in it even. It’d been used as a creative outlet, to get out some ideas that you couldn’t work on when your success as a mangaka had grown. Besides, it wasn’t like you could tell Akaashi that you had drawn up stories that were, well, inappropriate.

“But that would be too much work,” you sigh, trying to stop his train of thought.

Akaashi stares at you thoughtfully. The more you spend time with him, the more you begin to regret your choice to come here. Emailing the manuscript to him would’ve been the smarter choice, but you just had to feel sorry for the guy.

“I did read one the other day that had a similar art style to yours.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. You can feel your composure slipping. There was no way he could know that you self-published stories that were practically panel after panel of porn. Maybe he enjoyed it? One thought leads to another and you find yourself imagining Akaashi with his hand wrapped around his cock, his head tipped back as he strokes himself.

“What was it about?” you manage to grit out, trying to see through the haze of your indecent thoughts.

“About a couple,” he says simply, “they ended up fucking.”

You can feel the hope swirling in your mind fade. Akaashi definitely knew.

“Didn’t know you read that sort of thing.”

“I’m a man, aren’t I? Sometimes porn just doesn’t cut it. The story was pretty great too.”

He thought the story was great? You can’t help yourself from perking up, the compliment making you feel warm.

“I just find it so strange,” he murmurs, leaning closer to you.

You swallow harshly, mustering up a smile with your trembling lips, “why’s that?”

“The author’s note,” Akaashi says, “the little bunny avatar was the same as yours.”

So, you had messed up. You spy the front door from the corner of your eyes. If you walked, you’d get there in about ten steps, but if you ran, you’d get there in about three - maybe two - strides. Sure, you wouldn’t ever be able to face Akaashi again, but you think you’d be fine with it. Report filed to the higher ups stating creative differences and you’d be able to find a new editor, no problem.

“It’s all probably just a coincidence,” you say nonchalantly, “plenty of people like bunnies.”

“Some of the dialogue was similar to yours, distinct writing and all that.”

You grit your teeth. The man didn’t know when to let go.

“Like I said, coincidence.”

“Right,” he says, nodding along, “a coincidence. Was it also a coincidence that the couple that had sex was a mangaka and her editor?”

You scramble to your feet when he says that. Letting out an awkward laugh, your cheeks heated with embarrassment, you decide that this is the best time to take your leave.

“Have- have a good night!” you say, voice pitching.

Determination has Akaashi’s eyes gleaming and now you’re bolting, feet nearly tripping over each other as you dart towards his apartment door. It seems as though fate isn’t in your favor tonight, Akaashi’s hand curling around your wrist as he catches onto you before you can open the door. You squeak when he slams his hand against the wall, right next to your head as he pushes you up against the door.

“Classic scene,” he murmurs, his eyes narrowing as he takes in your meek expression, “you always use it.”

“Fuck off, Akaashi!” you snap, pushing at his chest.

It’s a struggle, but you reach back behind you, hand grabbing blindly for the door handle. He doesn’t let you reach it, catching your wrist and pinning it against the door.

“You sure?” Akaashi asks, his eyes darkened, “or maybe you want me to fuck you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, mouth opening before closing again. There’s nothing left in you, no retorts, no words to get yourself out of this situation. He lets out a sigh when he feels your body relax, his hand on your wrist loosening as he lets go. You stare up at him, biting your lip nervously.

“You should’ve said something,” he says quietly, adjusting his glasses.

“And embarrass myself?” you mutter, picking at the wool of your sweater.

Akaashi doesn’t say anything, his hand smoothing up your hip and settling on your waist. Your eyes widen, arousal shooting through your body as he presses himself closer, his other hand finding your waist. Akaashi squeezes gently and you bite back a whine, eyes drooping slightly as he just squeezes and pets at your sides.

“It was good,” he says hoarsely, “the story, the details, the sex… came to it a couple of times.”

“You- you liked it?” you whisper, voice airy.

“Yeah,” he whispers back, his eyes meeting yours, “liked it… like you.”

Your eyes flutter shut when he kisses your cheek, your heart thudding in your chest. You never dreamt it’d come down to this, but you find yourself grateful for Akaashi’s observational nature.

He takes his glasses off, placing them into his pocket. Akaashi’s lips drag across your cheek, pressing soft kisses against your skin. He kisses the corner of your mouth, lips brushing against yours gently.

“Kiss me, Akaashi” you whisper, arms wrapping around his neck.

“Yeah,” Akaashi says softly, “yeah, I’ll kiss you, baby.”

A contented sigh escapes you as he slots his lips over yours, kissing you gently. The heat between you begins to grow, his hands slipping under your sweater to feel your bare skin. You gasp into his mouth, his hands surprisingly warm.

Akaashi smiles against your lips, his hand running up your back as his kisses turn hungrier, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips. You let him lick into your mouth, tugging at his hair desperately. Rocking up onto the tips of your toes, you deepen the kiss, pulling him impossibly closer.

He wraps his arms around your waist, groaning when your nails scratch his scalp fleetingly. You bite your kiss-swollen lip as he drags his lips down your neck, landing heated kisses to your skin.

Akaashi kisses the pulse of your throat, his lips finding their way back to yours. Soft pants fill the air, his smile hazy as he peers down at you. You smile back, head tilting to the side to let him kiss your cheek again.

“You’re such a dork,” he whispers, his eyes twinkling.

“Shut up,” you whine, pushing at his chest.

He grins, his hands grasping yours. Akaashi pulls you away from the door, his arms wrapping around the backs of your thighs as he picks you up. You laugh, legs wrapping around his waist, lips pressing against his as he carries you to his bed.

Akaashi lays you down on his bed and you watch with half-lidded eyes as he pulls his shirt off. He might not have played as competitively like he did in highschool, but you had been there when he had played with his friends. It’d been entrancing to watch the way he had set the ball for his friends, the ball curving through the air cleanly for the spiker to hit.

“‘s not fair how good you look,” you grumble, pouting.

He rolls his eyes, crawling onto the bed, his body hovering over yours.

“You look pretty good yourself,” Akaashi says, his fingers playing with the hem of your sweater.

You lift your arms for him, letting him pull it off of you. His gaze fixes on the swell of your breasts and you flush, looking away.

“You’re shy now?” He murmurs, a soft laugh escaping him as he kisses your jaw.

“You’re such a jerk,” you huff out.

Akaashi smiles and you don’t think you’ll ever be able to be truly angry with him. He’s patient more than anything, caring and always honest. You’ve never met a man like him, never met someone who could quell your worries the way he could. It makes you want to never let go.

His body settles between your thighs, his nimble fingers pulling your bra free. Your nipples pebble in the cold air and Akaashi leans forward, his hot, wet mouth enveloping a hard bud into his mouth.

You whine brokenly, back arching slightly as he sucks your nipple, tongue swirling around the bud. He groans as you run your fingers through his hair, his mouth suctioning around your breast for a few moments before he pulls off with a pop.

His mouth finds your other breast, kissing the side of it, mouthing at your skin. You can feel his tongue caress the underside of it, laving across your breast before he bites gently at your flesh, his half-lidded eyes meeting yours.

“You’re a fuckin’ tease,” he whispers against your breast.

You shake your head, mewling when his hand slides up, his fingers pitching at your spit-coated nipples. He rests his head between your breasts, watching you contentedly as you writhe under the onslaught of his touches.

“A- Akaashi,” you whimper, hips bucking, “want- want more, please.”

“So polite, baby” he coos, his hands groping at your breasts.

He pulls away from you and you whine, lifting your hips for him when he peels your pants off. There’s a moment of silence and you’re anticipating the feel of his mouth on your body, only for him to let out a low laugh.

“Bunnies til the end, huh?” Akaashi asks, his fingers playing with the waistband of your panties.

Your brows furrow, not quite sure what he’s talking about until you prop yourself on your elbows and see that you’re wearing a pair of bunny-patterned panties.

“Oh, fuck off,” you groan, slumping back down onto the bed and slinging your arm over your eyes.

“They’re cute,” he smiles, prying your arm away from your face, “just like you, baby.”

Akaashi grasps one of your legs, bringing it to his mouth as he runs his hand along the length of it, kissing the sole of your foot and then your ankle. A soft hum leaves you, watching as he kisses up your leg, his kisses feather-light.

You run your fingers through his hair as he kisses the little bow on your panties, his nose pressing between your clothed folds to breathe you in.

“Pussy’s soaked through,” Akaashi murmurs, pulling back to look at your dampened panties.

“‘s your fault,” you slur, trying to push his face back to where you want it.

“All my fault,” he agrees, his tongue licking up over your panties, “guess I’ll have to take care of you then.”

You nod, trying to stop the little twitches that shoot through your body. Akaashi lets his mouth latch onto you, trying to suck the slick that’s soaked through the fabric of your panties.

“A- ah!” you pant, fingers fisting his hair as he squeezes your hips, his face nuzzling deeper between your thighs.

Akaashi’s lithe fingers pull at your panties, dragging them down your thighs. You don’t miss the way he tucks them into his pocket.

“Always so pretty, baby” he whispers, his thumbs pulling apart your folds to expose your pussy.

He moans when he sees the translucent strings of arousal that cling to your folds, his tongue darting out to lick up the little strings. You whimper when he kisses your clit gently, watching as he rubs the pad of his thumb against your swollen clit. Thighs twitching, you shift, trying to tilt your hips a little higher so you can feel his mouth on you.

“Ask for it,” Akaashi says, his cheek pressing against your thigh as he stares up at you.

“‘m not- ‘m not asking for it,” you retort, glaring at him.

“Bet it’d feel good,” he whispers, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

You whine when he just keeps his tongue there, saliva dripping from the tip of it and onto your pussy. He makes an obscene noise, gathering some more saliva, spitting on your cunt.

“All you gotta do is ask,” he coaxes, his arms wrapping around your thighs, “clit looks so achy… makes me wanna kiss it better.”

“P- please,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

“Didn’t quite catch that,” Akaashi smiles up at you, his eyes twinkling.

You’ll have to get him back for his teasing later, but right now you can’t wait.

“Please lick my pussy!”

You squeal when he latches his mouth onto you again, his tongue lapping over your wet pussy. He groans and you tug at his hair, thighs squeezing around his head as he laves his tongue over you greedily, letting his tongue dip into your hole before he sucks your clit into his mouth.

Legs kicking out, you let out a strangled noise as he flicks his tongue over your clit. Akaashi lands the filthiest kisses to your clit, alternating between sucking and little pecks, while he’s sunk two fingers inside of you. They curl up inside of you, grazing your sensitive spot perfectly. He fucks his fingers in and out of you, your wanton noises filling his bedroom.

Akaashi presses his face deeper, his fingers crooking. The feeling of his mouth in tandem with his fingers has you whimpering and whining, airy noises spilling from your lips at his ministrations. You might not ever be able to go without him ever again.

He holds you in place as you thrash, the overwhelming feeling inside of you building and building. Akaashi slips his fingers out of you in favor of devouring your cunt again, licking through your velvety folds, his tongue swirling before he presses it inside of you.

“Taste so fuckin’ good,” he growls.

You blink down at him dazedly. There’s a light flush covering his cheeks, his mouth glistening with your wetness. He opens his mouth to say something else but you ignore him, pushing his head so that his lips are flush against your cunt. Akaashi lets out a muffled laugh against your pussy, his tongue licking over you again.

Hand squeezing at your breast, you bite your lip, losing yourself in the caress of his tongue. He laps over you, again and again, pressing sloppy kisses to your clit.

“Gonna come,” you whisper, feeling the softness of his hair under your palm, “gonna come, ‘kaashi.”

He tilts your hips a little more, rising up onto his knees with your legs slung over his shoulders. You squeal again when he shakes his head, tongue dragging from side to side before he plunges it inside of you, his thumb pressing against your clit at the same time.

Your thighs squeeze tightly around his head as you come, loosening after a while when twitches rack through your body. Akaashi squeezes your thighs, lets your legs slip from his shoulders as he kisses your trembling thighs.

“Good girl,” he whispers.

Akaashi kisses your cheek and wipes the stray curls of your hair away from your face. A soft sheen of sweat covers your body and he hums, smoothing his thumbs over the underside of your breasts.

He lays down beside you and you curl up beside him, eyes catching on the bulge in his sweatpants.

“Need some help?” you murmur, fingers dragging down his chest.

“If you don’t mind,” he sighs, his arm wrapping around your waist to hold you close to him.

You smile, kissing his jaw gently as your hand slides past his navel, disappearing into his sweatpants. The weight of his cock is heavy and hot and Akaashi moans softly when your hand curls around his length.

“Ask for it, ‘kaashi,” you whisper, voice lilting.

“You’re such a brat,” he mutters.

“Use your manners, Keiji.”

His eyes widen when you use his name and you grin, landing a soft kiss to his cheek as your breasts squish up against his bicep. You squeeze around his cock and he lets out a soft whine, his hips bucking.

“Fuck- fuck hah-,” Akaashi grits out, “stroke my cock, baby, hm? Please?”

You hum softly, beginning to move your hand. His thick cock twitches as you stroke him, your wrist rotating.

He pants softly, his head turning to meet yours. You smile, running your fingers through his hair, brushing the soft strands out of his eyes. Affection bursts inside of you, heart fluttering as the flush on his cheeks deepens.

His brows have drawn together and you smooth your thumb over them, peppering soft kisses over his face, leg slinging over his as you pull down his sweatpants to free his cock completely. Akaashi’s cock has filled out, pre-cum smearing across his abdomen. You caress the head of it, giggling when he lets out a broken moan as you rub your thumb against the tip.

“You look so handsome,” you say, stroking his cock a little faster.

Akaashi smiles and you dip your head, kissing him. He groans, his hips chasing after the feeling of your hand around him as you kiss. Your hand tightens a little, squeezing at the tip of his cock. Pre-cum wets your hand, soft gasps escaping Akaashi as you let your tongue slip into his mouth.

“Keiji,” you whisper, lips brushing over his, “Keiji, will you fuck me?”

You squeak in surprise when he manages to grab onto your waist, lifting you up and placing you on his lap. His cock is snug between your folds and you whine, dragging your hips along the length of it, biting your lip as more pre-cum leaks from him.

“Sit on my cock, baby” he whispers, smoothing his hands up your thighs.

You nod, shifting a little so that you’re up on your knees. Akaashi watches as you grip the base of his cock, moaning when you rub his cock against your pussy, letting it catch on your clit. Akaashi’s head tips back as you sink down, whimpery, little noises leaving you as your pussy swallows up his cock.

It’s so thick inside of you, fitting so snugly that you clench around him. Akaashi wraps an arm around your waist, bringing your front flush against him. He lets you tuck your face into the crook of his neck, his arms tightening around your waist. You can feel him move, his feet flat against the bed as he bends his knees.

“K- Keiji!” you wail when he begins to fuck up into you.

Akaashi grunts, holding you against him as he moves his hips, rutting up into you. His hands grope at your ass, gripping your ass tightly as he moves a little more forcefully. You bury your face deeper into the crook of his neck, pressing sloppy kisses against his skin as you smooth your hand over his hair.

“Is this- fuck,” Akaashi grits out, “is this what you imagined when you drew up those panels?”

You nod, too far gone to cling onto the remnants of your stubbornness.

“Yeah?” he whispers, “imagined me fucking up into you, huh?”

“Y- yes!” you cry out, body squirming when he lands a heavy spank to your ass.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he growls.

A soft mewl leaves you at the praise, your hips swaying back lazily to meet his thrusts. The sound of his hips slapping into your ass echoes through his room, your wetness leaking around his cock and coating his balls.

Your body rocks against his, your hand gripping at the sheets beside his head when he adjusts his grip on you, planting his feet a bit firmer against his mattress to thrust into you harder. You gasp at the sensation, sinking your teeth into his shoulder when his cock hits deep inside of you.

Akaashi hisses at the feeling of your teeth, spanking your ass again before you clench around him with a scream, body shuddering on top of his as you come.

“Baby, baby, you gotta let go,” he rasps.

You shake your head stubbornly, pushing your hips down so that it swallows his cock all the way to the base.

“Inside, Keiji.”

He groans, his hands kneading at your hips roughly. You can feel the twitch of his cock, a satisfied coo leaving your lips when he comes, spurts of his hot cum filling you up. Akaashi’s hips stutter, thrusting into you unevenly as his cock jerks, more cum flooding your pussy.

You both pant, chests heaving. Akaashi rubs his hand along your back and you emerge from the crook of his neck, a drunken smile on your face.

He laughs hoarsely at your expression, cupping your cheek to guide you into another kiss while his cock softens inside of you. It’s a little uncomfortable, but you don’t mind, losing yourself in the heat of his body as cum leaks from your pussy.

“How long have you known?” you ask, tracing the slope of his nose.

“About a month,” he murmurs.

“A month?” you scoff, hitting his chest, “and you didn’t say anything?”

Akaashi grins, grabbing your hand and bringing it up to his lips to kiss across your knuckles.

“That would ruin the fun.”

You roll your eyes, prodding your fingers into his chest, “it was hardly fun, Keiji.”

“But you got what you wanted, didn’t you?” he whispers.

You laugh when he flips you onto your back, moaning softly when you feel his cock beginning to harden again inside of you.

“Put- put your glasses on,” you whisper, head tipping back as he rolls his hips into you.

Akaashi reaches over to dig his glasses out from the pocket of his discarded sweatpants, pushing them up to sit comfortably on his nose.

You clench around him at the sight, biting your lip as you give him a pleased smile.

“Knew you had a thing for ‘em.”

He grabs at your legs, moving them so that they’re pressed against his chest, your ankles resting on his shoulders.

“Use this as inspiration, baby,” Akaashi smirks, “I’ll even edit it for you.”

#akaashi smut #akaashi keiji smut #akaashi x reader #akaashi x you #haikyuu smut #keiji smut #keiji x reader #haikyuu x reader

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