#AND THERE HIS FRIENDS ARE RIGHT BESIDE HIM FOLLOWING HIM INTO THE LIGHT

[hoshifighting]

Hey pookie so I just wanted to ask seeing that you didn't see any of my asks in your inbox could you write me a ff where you're in seventeen and you used to have a friends with benefits situation with wonwoo but now that's over and you're with josh but he knows that so now he wants to have a threesome with you and won I you are comfortable and have the time😊💗

threesome with; actual situationship!joshua & past situationship!wonwoo WC: 3.3k WARNINGS: smut, threesome, reader misses wonwoo, mentions of ovulation/sensitiveness, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), body fluids (cum) penetrative sex, a teeth scratch during blowjob—no pain, joshua and wonwoo making eye contact as they fuck you—idk, but felt like a warning.

you’re not entirely sure how it started. maybe it’s the way joshua’s always had this easy charm, like he knows exactly how to say shit that gets under your skin. but it’s not the kind of annoyance that makes you want to push him away, it’s the kind that makes you want to shut him up by doing things that leave the both of you breathless.

and wonwoo… well, wonwoo’s always been a different story. it’s not like he’s cold, exactly. just detached, distant. except when he’s not. except when his hands were on your hips, and his mouth was on your neck, and when he pulled you so close that it’s like he wanted to remind you how much he can feel.

it wasn’t supposed to last as long as it did, but it did. until it didn’t.

now, though? now you’ve got joshua, and that’s its own thing. he’s smoother than wonwoo ever was, always knows how to keep things light and playful even when his touch is hot and heavy. you’re not sure what to call what you have with him—it’s not exactly a relationship, but it’s not casual either. and he knows about wonwoo. of course he does. you never accomplished about lying to joshus, he knows everything about you, and you simply cant lie looking inside his eyes.

“so,” joshua says, leaning back against the couch, his eyes fixed on you with that lazy smirk you’ve come to expect. “what if we changed things up?”

you raise a brow, not quite following. “changed things up how?”

his gaze flicks over you, dark in his eyes now, something you’ve only seen in flashes before, right when he’s about to get serious. “i know about you and wonwoo. i know it’s over, but…” he lets the words hang there, knowing exactly how to build suspense. “what if it didn’t have to be over?”

you feel your stomach flip, your mind racing to catch up with the suggestion that’s hanging in the air like a loaded gun. “what the fuck are you talking about?”

he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even look like he’s joking. “i’m talking about the three of us.”

you let out a laugh, more out of shock than anything. “a fucking threesome? with wonwoo?” it’s so ridiculous, but there’s something twisted in your chest that says it’s not entirely a bad idea.

joshua just shrugs like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “you said he was good, right? no reason to keep that all to yourself. besides… i’m curious.”

“curious?” you echo, still not believing what you’re hearing. “about what exactly?”

his smile turns wicked, and he leans forward, his lips brushing your ear. “about what it’d be like to see you with him. to see how you’d react if it was both of us. together.”

the idea rolls through your mind like wildfire, igniting thoughts you didn’t even know were buried there. you picture it—wonwoo’s quiet dom that you remembered, joshua’s charming and sensual—and suddenly, the room feels too hot, your heart beating too fast.

you lean back, eyes narrowed. “and what makes you think wonwoo’s even into that?”

joshua grins, knowing exactly what he’s doing. “oh, he’s into it. trust me.”

you don’t need to ask how he knows, and that’s what gets to you. this whole situation, as absurd as it sounds, feels almost inevitable. the tension between you and joshua’s always been good enough, but throw wonwoo into the mix, and it’s like adding gasoline to a slow-burning fire.

“you really think this is a good idea?” you ask, not sure if you’re talking to joshua or yourself at this point.

“i think it’s an idea,” he says, shrugging again, that confidence never leaving his face. “whether or not it’s a good one is up to you.”

you bite your lip, torn between the pull of curiosity and the weight of everything that’s gone down with wonwoo. it wasn’t messy when it ended, but it wasn’t exactly clean either. things like that don’t just disappear. they linger.

“fuck, you’re serious about this.” it’s not a question, more like a realization. joshua’s leaning in, his hands tracing light patterns over your skin, and you feel yourself giving in to the inevitable, even though part of you is still screaming that this is insane.

“completely,” he says, his lips grazing your jaw. “so, what do you say? wanna see how far we can push this?”

there’s a moment, where you think about what this could mean. it’s not just about sex, not with joshua and wonwoo involved. the way joshua’s eyes burn into yours as if he’s daring you to cross a line you can never uncross.

but then, you think about the way wonwoo used to look at you, that hunger in his sharp eyes, and the way joshua’s always been able to coax you into doing things you never thought you’d be into. and, well… maybe crossing that line isn’t the worst idea after all.

“alright,” the weight behind it feels like a door being kicked wide open. “let’s do it.”

joshua’s grin stretches wider, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “that’s what i thought you’d say.”

you can feel wonwoo's presence, even though wonwoo’s not here yet. but you know—you know—that when he is, things are going to change in a way none of you can ever take back.

and the fucked up part is? you’re not sure you’d want to.

[...]

“a threesome?!”

wonwoo’s voice cuts through the room. he’s standing at the foot of joshua’s bed, his eyes wide in disbelief—those same eyes that are always narrow, focused, but right now they’re blown open like he just heard the most ridiculous thing in his life.

honestly, you can’t blame him.

you sit there, smaller than you’ve ever felt, wrapped in the sheets like they might shield you from the exhasperation of his reaction. you’d expected some kind of pushback from wonwoo—he’s not exactly the most spontaneous guy—but the shock in his voice still stings more than you’d thought it would. joshua’s quiet beside you, arms folded across his chest, watching wonwoo with this unreadable look, lips pressed into a thin line. like he’s assessing the situation. like he’s waiting to see how this plays out.

“i—” you start, but your throat feels dry, your words dying before they’ve even formed. you shift, uncomfortable, but it’s not just the awkwardness of the moment. there’s something more, something deeper that’s making your skin feel hot, your body overly sensitive to every movement. you know what it is. you can feel it. your body’s buzzing, the ache between your thighs making itself known with every subtle shift of the sheets. you’re ovulating, and it’s making this whole thing worse, making your body respond in ways that are frustratingly out of your control.

wonwoo’s still staring, he looks at you, then at joshua, then back at you again. you don’t meet his eyes, can’t bring yourself to.

“are you serious?” his voice is lower now, more measured, but there’s still a note of incredulity in it.

you swallow hard, forcing yourself to look up at him. “yeah,” you say, voice quiet, but it’s the truth. “we’re serious.”

wonwoo looks like he’s processing it, his mind running a mile a minute, but there’s a flicker of something in his expression that tells you he’s considering it. and that’s enough for joshua, who leans forward slightly, his voice smooth, persuasive.

“it’s not as weird as it sounds,” joshua says, his tone light, like he’s just suggesting something casual, like going out for drinks. “you’re both already close. you trust each other, I know you for years. we’ve all got chemistry, right?”

wonwoo’s eyes narrow slightly at joshua, but the tension between them isn’t exactly hostile. it’s more like a challenge, like he’s weighing the pros and cons, trying to figure out if this is something he can actually wrap his head around.

finally, wonwoo sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, and when he speaks again, there’s a resigned sort of acceptance in his voice. “fuck it. okay.”

your heart jumps at the words. wonwoo’s gaze locks on yours, and for the first time in what feels like forever, there’s no distance between you. no walls.

joshua doesn’t say anything, but you feel his presence, the way his eyes are on you, observing every little reaction. there’s something almost possessive in the way he watches, like he’s waiting for you to make the first move.

you don’t wait long.

before you even realize what you’re doing, you’re reaching for wonwoo, pulling him down by the front of his shirt until his lips crash into yours. it’s messy, a little frantic, and you missed him. so, so much. like you missed him more than you were willing to admit. you can’t help the small sound that escapes your throat, the way your body responds immediately, almost embarrassingly fast.

wonwoo’s hands grip your waist, pulling you closer, torching the fire that’s already been burning low in your belly.

joshua’s still silent beside you, but you feel his eyes on you, feel the way his presence lingers, close but not touching. when you finally pull away from wonwoo, breathless and dazed, you glance at joshua. his lips are pressed together in a tight line, his expression carefully neutral, but there’s a tension in his jaw that tells you he’s not unaffected by what he just saw.

“fuck,” wonwoo mutters, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot against your lips. “you’re… fuck, you’re wet already.”

you let out a shaky breath, your body pulsing with a need that’s only getting worse. “yeah,” you admit, not even embarrassed by it. “it’s… it’s the timing.”

wonwoo raises a brow, confused for a second, before realization dawns on his face. “oh.”

wonwoo knew about “the timing” he used to be your relief for it, and he remembered how sensitive you were.

joshua finally speaks up “she’s sensitive right now. been like this all day.”

you want it. you need it.

wonwoo’s eyes darken, his fingers tightening on your waist. “is that right?”

joshua’s watching closely, his hand brushing over your thigh, and the contact is enough to make your breath hitch, your body already responding before you can even think about it. “she’s all yours for now,” joshua murmurs. “but don’t get too comfortable.”

wonwoo’s lips are on yours again, his hands exploring your body with a familiarity that makes the nostalgia wash over you like grandma's food, and you can’t help but respond, your body arching into him.

every touch, every kiss feels magnified, like your senses are on overdrive, and it’s all you can do to keep yourself from losing control entirely. you’re wet, so wet it’s embarrassing, and you know they can both feel it, know exactly how badly you want this, how badly you need it.

“fuck, you’re so sensitive,” wonwoo breathes against your skin, his fingers teasing along the waistband of your underwear, and you whimper at the contact, your hips bucking involuntarily. “can’t believe how wet you are.”

joshua leans in, his lips brushing wonwoo's ear as he whispers, “told you she’s been like this all day. it’s driving her crazy.”

you let out a shaky breath, wonwoo’s fingers dip lower, brushing against your soaked core, and you moan, your head falling back against joshua’s shoulder. it’s too much, but at the same time, it’s exactly what you’ve been craving, what your body’s been screaming for all day.

joshua’s hand slips under your shirt, his fingers brushing over your tits, twisting the hardened nipples, he’s letting wonwoo have you, letting you drown in it, knowing that it’s only a matter of time before he takes over.

wonwoo’s fingers slide inside you, slow at first, and the instant he curls them, you feel your body react, hips stuttering forward like you’re trying to chase the sensation, but can’t quite control it. it’s like your entire body remembers him, remembers the way he used to touch you, how he knows exactly what makes you fall apart.

you gasp, your forehead pressing against his chest, his free hand coming up to hold the back of your neck, keeping you close. “fuck,” you whisper, your breath ragged, your skin burning, fever. “wonwoo…”

he doesn’t respond with words, just lets out a low hum, his fingers working inside you with an infuriating pace, slow but so damn effective. you clench around him, feeling the wetness start to drip onto the sheets beneath you, and your mind’s a blur.

then, they share a look—wonwoo and joshua, their eyes meeting over your trembling form like they’re communicating something quietly between them. it makes your stomach tighten. wonwoo’s chest rumbles with a deep chuckle as you crumble against him, barely able to hold yourself up.

“fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight,” wonwoo mutters, his fingers start moving faster, curling with every thrust, hitting that sweet spot inside you that makes your knees buckle. “didn’t think you’d be this sensitive.”

“wonwoo—” you choke out, your head falling back, and your hand reaches out blindly for joshua. he’s pulling away, but you need him, need both of them. “joshua—”

you hear him groan softly, and when you turn your head, you see him standing there, his hand wrapped around his cock, pumping it slowly, watching you like he’s savoring the sight of you falling apart on wonwoo’s fingers. “fuck, you look so good like that,” he says, his voice thick with lust. “so fucking needy.”

you bite your lip, moaning as wonwoo’s fingers slide deeper, the wet, obscene sounds filling the room as your body betrays you. your thighs tremble, your hands clawing at the sheets, the sensation of being split between them making your head spin. “joshua,” you moan again, voice breaking. “please… come back.”

he doesn’t need much more convincing. you watch as he steps forward, his cock hard and slick in his fist. “you want me that bad, huh?” he murmurs, the teasing lilt in his voice cutting through the haze clouding your mind. “can’t handle just wonwoo?”

wonwoo chuckles softly, his fingers still working inside you. “she’s falling apart already,” he mutters, his breath hot against your neck. “not sure she can handle both of us.”

“she can,” joshua says confidently, his thumb swiping over the tip of his cock as he steps closer, looming over you. “she just needs a little encouragement.”

you’re already panting, your body on edge, teetering dangerously close to losing control completely. you can feel the wetness coating his hand now, dripping onto the sheets, and it only makes the whole thing worse. every little movement makes you more sensitive, your body almost too responsive, and the frustration builds in your chest.

joshua kneels down on the bed, his cock brushing your lips, and you open your mouth automatically, desperate to have him inside you. but the second you try to take him in, wonwoo’s fingers curl again, and you gasp, your body jerking uncontrollably.

“shit—” you whimper, struggling to breathe, “i can’t—”

joshua presses the tip of his cock against your lips, his eyes burning into yours. “oh, you’re just gonna have to try a little harder, baby.”

you moan against him, your hips rolling instinctively into wonwoo’s hand, your body caught in this maddening push and pull between the two of them. joshua slides his cock past your lips, and the feeling of him, heavy and warm on your tongue, only intensifies the sensation of wonwoo’s fingers inside you. you choke a little, struggling to focus on either one of them, but it’s impossible.

wonwoo’s pace picks up, his fingers thrusting deeper, and just when you think you can’t take it anymore, he pulls them out, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing. you whine at the loss, your head spinning, but before you can even process it, he’s shifting lower, pressing your thighs apart with a firm grip.

“wonwoo—” you gasp, your words muffled around joshua’s cock.

“shh,” wonwoo murmurs, his breath hot against your inner thigh. “just relax.”

and then his mouth is on you, his tongue licking a broad, slow stripe up your center, and your entire body seizes up, a broken moan ripping from your throat. your hips buck against his mouth, but he holds you down, his grip tight on your thighs as he starts devouring you like he’s been waiting for this moment forever.

“fuck,” joshua mutters, his hand tightening in your hair as you struggle to take him, the combination of wonwoo’s tongue on your clit and joshua in your mouth pushing you past the point of reason. “you’re so fucking wet. wonwoo’s making a mess out of you.”

you can’t respond, can barely even think, your mind a swirling mess. wonwoo’s tongue is relentless, teasing and sucking at your clit, his fingers slipping back inside you as he eats you out like it’s his only mission in life. you can feel your legs shaking, your entire body trembling as you try to keep up, but it’s impossible. every touch, every thrust of his fingers makes you more sensitive, makes it harder to breathe.

“fuck, i can’t—” you gasp, pulling off joshua’s cock for a second, your voice a desperate, breathless whine.

joshua just chuckles darkly, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand. “you’re doing so good, baby. just a little more.”

wonwoo hums in agreement, the vibration against your clit making your entire body jolt, and you feel yourself spiraling, the tension building faster than you can handle. his tongue flicks over you again, and this time, he focuses on that one spot—the needy, throbbing clit—sucking just hard enough to send you over the edge.

you cry out, your back arching off the bed, your entire body shuddering as the orgasm rips through you, and you can’t do anything but ride it out, trembling and gasping for breath as wonwoo keeps going, his mouth never letting up.

“fuck, look at you,” joshua mutters, his voice full of awe as he watches you fall apart. “so fucking beautiful when you come. i love it.”

wonwoo finally pulls back, his lips shiny and slick with your cum, his eyes dark and hungry as he looks up at you. “she’s not done yet,”

and you know he’s right.

“fuck, look at you,” wonwoo mutters, pulling back from between your legs, his lips still glistening with you. “i’ve got you ready for him, haven’t i?” the heat in your cheeks burning deeper as you realize what he means.

you don’t have time to respond before joshua's hands are on your hips, pulling you up to your knees. the shift makes you gasp, you glance back at him.

“yeah, you’ve got her real nice and wet for me,” joshua says, the blunt head of his cock teasing at your entrance. “good job, wonwoo.”

you feel a kick of embarrassment making your legs shake. wonwoo’s hand comes up to brush against your cheek, turning your face toward him as he looks down at you with that familiar gaze. “c’mere,” he murmurs, his thumb grazing over your lips. “i missed your pretty mouth.”

your lips part automatically, like you’re drawn to him, and before you know it, you’ve wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, guiding him toward your lips. he groans softly as you take him in, his hand resting on your jaw, fingers curling slightly as you suck him in deeper.

“god, i missed this,” he breathes out, his voice catching as you swirl your tongue around him, taking him deeper into your throat. “missed how fucking good you are at this.”

your cheeks flush at the praise, your body humming as joshua teases you from behind, the tip of his cock just narrowly entering you. wonwoo’s hand tightens on your jaw, guiding your movements as you bob your head up and down, your lips stretched around him. the weight of him on your tongue, the taste of him—everything is overwhelming in the best way.

but just as you start to take him in throat, joshua suddenly thrusts into you from behind, hard. the sharp intrusion makes you gasp around wonwoo’s cock, your teeth scraping lightly against him as the sudden cock fills you all at once.

“shit—!” wonwoo curses, his hips jerking as your teeth graze him, not enough to hurt, but enough to make him jolt. his eyes widen in shock, but then a shaky laugh escapes his lips, his free hand tightening in your hair as he steadies you. “motherfucker.”

joshua lets out a loud laugh behind you, clearly amused by wonwoo’s reaction. “sorry about that,” he says, but there’s no real apology in his tone, only satisfaction as he starts moving inside you again, his hips snapping forward with sharp, controlled thrusts that have you whimpering around wonwoo’s cock.

“you’re such a fucking asshole hyung,” wonwoo mutters, but the words are strained, his voice catching as he watches your lips stretch around him. his hand rests on the back of your neck now, guiding your head in time with his shallow thrusts as he slowly fucks your mouth. “fuck, just like that. good girl.”

joshua’s pace is relentless, his hips slamming into you from behind, both filling you—wonwoo in your mouth, joshua inside you.

“god, you’re so fucking tight,” joshua groans, his hands gripping your hips harder as he pushes deeper, the wet, obscene sounds of him fucking you filling the room. “woo, you’ve got her all loosened up, but she’s still so fucking tight around me.”

wonwoo chuckles, but it’s strained, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he watches you struggle to take both of them. “yeah?” he mutters, his voice rough. “she’s so fucking wet, isn’t she? dripping all over you.”

joshua’s pace falters for just a second as he glances up at wonwoo, and for a moment, they lock eyes. it’s strange at first, like neither of them expected to find themselves in this situation—watching each other while they both take you apart. its strange, strange because...

they start to enjoy it.

they enjoy the way their faces contort, the way their moans mix together, the sight of you caught between them—cocks twitching.

joshua whimpers as looking wonwoo's eyes, a smirk playing at his lips as he gives you another sharp thrust, just to watch you choke around wonwoo’s cock.

the sound of both of them moaning, cursing, panting—it only makes you wetter, makes you crave more.

“shit,” joshua breathes out, his voice strained as he keeps up the brutal pace, his hand sliding up your back, fingers digging into your skin. “fuck, you’re taking us so well.”

wonwoo’s face contorts, his hand tightening in your hair as his cock twitches in your mouth. “you’re gonna make me come if you keep going like this,” he groans, his eyes rolling back slightly as he fights to stay in control.

you whimper around him, your body shaking as the pleasure builds higher and higher, and you can feel yourself getting closer, every movement, every touch is pushing you nigher, and the sounds of their moans, the way they’re both so fucking into it—it’s enough to send you over.

“cum for us,” joshua growls, as his hips slam into you again, harder this time.

wonwoo’s grip tightens, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts as he watches you, his fingers flexing slightly on the back of your neck. “show us how fucking good you are.”

your body finally gives in. you come hard, your entire body shaking with the power of it, your lips trembling around wonwoo’s cock as you gasp for air.

“fuck,” wonwoo groans, his hand tightening on your neck as his hips stutter forward, his cock twitching in your mouth as he follows you over the edge.

joshua isn’t far behind, his hips slamming into you one last time before he lets out a sly, throaty moan, his body tensing as he spills inside you, filling you up.

wonwoo pulls out of your mouth slowly, his thumb brushing over your swollen lips as he looks down at you. you look at him shaking your head, taking his cock inside your wet mouth again.

the man melts on the headboard, joshua sat, looking how you look eager to make wonwoo cum, like you just cant leave him hanging. your knees give out, but your neck keep working to bob your head.

there's a line of spit dripping from your chin, as you suck him moaning, as the simply action of sucking him, was stimulating you. wonwoo eyes are glued with joshua's, the hyung biting his own bottom lip as he watches every single detail.

wonwoo feels the cock twitching, the gaze of his hyung plus the warmth of your mouth, making him cum on spot. he looks back at you again, the cum filling your tongue, leaving traces of it on your chin and neck, as you moan dumbly before laying on his thigh.

the boys make eye contact again, a smile spreading across their lips.

[chestersturniolo]

“i forgot to wear panties”

Matt sturniolo x fem!reader

*°:⋆ₓ*:⋆ₓ *°:⋆ₓₒ

sending matt dirty texts from across the room

warnings; suggestive, public v touching

*°:⋆ₓ*:⋆ₓ *°:⋆ₓₒ

After separating off with your friends for a while, you decide to go and find Matt. You wade through the crowds of dancing bodies, and it’s not long before you spot him across the room,

Leaning against the bar, standing with a few of his friends. He looks so effortlessly fucking good, his messy hair and dark stubble, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, revealing his scattered tattoos, the rings on his fingers and chain around his neck glinting in the club lights. You watch as he occasionally flashes his perfect teeth when he laughs with his friends. You can’t help but let your mind wander, as you cross your legs slightly, trying to relieve at least a little bit of pressure from the growing heat inbetween your legs.

He hadn’t noticed you watching him yet, so you decide to get his attention in your own way. With a smirk , you grab your phone and find his contact, quickly typing a sequence of messages

“you look so fucking hot right now, i’m dripping just from lookin at you”

“i forgot to wear panties tonight too”

“oops”

You quickly flick your gaze back to your boyfriend, from across the room you watched as his phone buzzed on the bar beside him. He glanced down absentmindedly, as he picks it up and his eyes scan his screen, his whole expression shifts instantly.

Matt’s eyes widen slightly, his throat bobs as he swallows harshly. His fingers tighten around his phone, knuckles paling. He blinks once, then again, still staring at the screen as if re-reading it over and over. He runs his free hand over his mouth, dragging down to his chin, trying to compose himself-but he’s already lost in it, caught up in the images your texts had conjured up in his filthy mind.

His tongue darts out , wetting his lower lip before glancing up, starting to scan the room for you needily. You watch as he clenches his jaw, the muscles tensing beneath the skin, whilst searching the faces of the room.

it’s not long before his eyes land on you

For a moment, he just stared intensely , his eyes clouding over with hunger. His head tilted slightly, his expression both playful and dangerous, as if daring you to keep up this game. He slipped his phone into his pocket, taking his time, like he wanted you to feel every second of his attention.

Without a word to his friends, Matt straightened up and began making his way across the room toward you , his movements slow, almost predatory. The kind that said he knew exactly what he wanted, and exactly how to get it.

His eyes were locked onto yours the whole time, only breaking the contact for the exception of trailing them painfully slowly down your figure and back up again. His mouth set in a way that tells you exactly what he’s thinking. the closer he got, the faster your heart got.

When he finally reaches you, he leans in, his breath brushing your ear as his hand ghosts the small of your back, “I hope you’re ready to back up your little texts” his voice teasing but sturn.

A smirk plays on your lips, “feel for yourself” you shrug, ypu scan the room quickly before gripping matt’s hand, his gaze follows as you slip it underneath your dress and placing his hand directly inbetween your legs, your body jolts slightly at the contact

Matt lets out a small audible groan, his eyes finding yours again as he starts moving his fingers slightly , playing around with the wetness you’d created — rather, he’d created.

“O-oh my god” he breathes

you take your bottom lip between your teeth, as matt swiftly pulls away.

“Come on, we’re leaving”

Matt brings his hand up, placing the two fingers into his mouth,tasting you before removing them with a pop.

“Mmph — now..”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

MASTERLIST

taglist ; @sturnobsessedwh0re @nayveetbhh @phone4pills @demzzz @dripgodnay

@sturniooolos @monroesturnns @mattsbitchh @slutforsturnioloss @pvssychicken @tsturniolo4

@brianna-grace12 @blahbel668 @stvrlighht @witchofthehour @ilyttmatsa @asherrisrandom @l0ver-i @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @fratbrochrisgf

[oralmisery]

Stiff by Day, Stiffer at Night

written for @steddiesmuttyseptember

[ complete fic on ao3 ]

Rating: E | WC: 7,007 | Tags: Smut, Humor, Lingerie, Blow jobs, Hand jobs, Brat Steve Harrington, Bathing/Washing, Light Dom/Sub undertones

Week three prompt: Lingerie

Steve is a mannequin that comes alive at night. 

Eddie occasionally dumpster dives at Starcourt Mall. 

The corroded coffin boys break in Eddie’s new find like teenage boys do–with mischief and vandalism. The not so lifeless Steve holds Eddie accountable and makes him clean up the mess he and his friends made.

Eddie knew Starcourt Mall was a corporate parasite draining the economic and cultural vitality of Hawkins; practically stealing customers from local businesses–the mom and pop stores that are generational legacies. However, being that the local businesses’ version of economy and culture consist of sneering at Eddie's crumpled single bills and following him around their stores like he was going to walk away with their entire inventory in his pockets, he wasn't remorseful in the least for being a patron of the new mall. Besides, there was a record store Eddie could browse while Jeff dared Gareth to steal panties from Victoria's secret. It had an actual metal section, small but existent.

The mall also had some of the most unique dumpster finds, not that Eddie made it a habit, he just looked from time to time.

“Why did you-mphf , even take this thing?”, Gareth said. He and Eddie were finding it difficult to maneuver Eddie's latest find through the trailer's small doorway.

“Same reason-push man-you and Jeff stole frilly underwear-oof ”, Eddie said, knocking his elbow into the wall and almost losing his footing. “I saw something, I wanted it, and no one stopped me, besides my acquisition was free”.

“Can't believe you went dumpster diving for a mannequin” Gareth said, finally angling the mannequin's legs right so they could get inside the trailer. They started down the hallway to Eddie's room.

The mannequin was a masculine one, tall and fit with defined musculature that was somehow supposed to represent the average man. It was bare when Eddie found it and the smooth white plastic body proved slippery to hold. The sculpted hair on the head pressed into Eddie's stomach when Gareth gave an impatient push.

“Slander , I didn't go into the dumpster, it was just right outside of it, mint condition” Eddie said, hands grappling with the mannequins shoulders as they tipped it up to stand in the middle of his room. “Ya know this thing will actually get use, which is more than I can say for the lingerie y’all pilfered. Who are you going to give it to? I don't think I’ve even seen you talk to a girl”.

Gareth's face scrunched up and he opened his mouth to argue but was cut off by Jeff, “we can give them to Gareth's mom”. Gareth’s outrage turned to a new target and he swiped one of Eddie's pillows to whack a laughing Jeff.

Jeff dodged, “What are you going to use the mannequin for?” he asked Eddie, holding a swinging Gareth back with his superior arm length.

Eddie turned the mannequin a couple inches to the right, looking over its plastic figure with roving eyes, “So many applications Jeff, imagine! a prop for our sessions, a corroded coffin mascot, a model for new t-shirts”. Eddie turned and smiled, wide and mischievous, “also I'm gonna scare the shit out of Wayne with it”.

Eddie wiggled his fingers at the others, "now get comfy, we are not parting ways until we get our setlist right, I'm going to roll a joint and grab some beer” he bounded from the room.

Eddie plopped down at the small kitchen table and opened his lunchbox to roll a joint. He twisted the filter paper with ease and sealed it with a quick swipe of tongue. With the joint tucked behind an ear, he grabbed a six pack from the fridge and headed back to his room.

“Okay boys, so I think we- what the fuck ?”.

The mannequin was now wearing a pale baby-blue, lace lingerie set. 

“I think he looks really good, right Eddie?” Gareth said as Jeff cackled.

Eddie bit his tongue. It did look good. The light blue bra stretched tight around perfectly sculpted pecs. The cups of the bra were completely transparent, the only opaque elements were delicately embroidered flowers and petals. Eddie could easily imagine pink nipples, bruising the sheer blue purple between the floral adornments. The same sheer fabric curtained around the bottom of the bra, creating an hourglass figure on a chiseled torso. Dainty straps enhanced broad shoulders. The whole piece stretched into a shape vastly different from the curves expected of it on a feminine figure. The paradox had Eddie's mouth watering. 

The most modest part of the ensemble was the front of the panties. There was a wide triangle of opaque blue cloth, then the rest was just as sheer and flower adorned as the bra. Even though the mannequin’s groin was smooth and flat, the square muscular cut of the hips sparked the image of blue cloth pulling obscenely over a bulge. Eddie swallowed thickly. Unlike Jeff and Gareth, humor wasn't at all the emotion Eddie was experiencing right now. He didn't want them to know what he was actually feeling, lest they stop being his friends.

Eddie laughed, loud and performative “I'd prefer if the top was more filled out” he said. He might as well have spoken absolute gibberish for how meaningless those words were, but he wasn't going to expose himself. He was a goddamn dungeon master and he knows how to put on an act, how to control a room–reveal information only when he's ready to. 

When players are a little too close to unraveling the mystery you give them a distraction, a side quest.

A misdirection.

Eddie swirled around and grabbed a marker from his desk, he uncapped it and flourished it in the air. He grinned at Gareth and Jeff, then nodded at the scantily clad mannequin.

“I think it needs some ink”

—----

Eddie woke up to something jabbing his ribs. He shifted with growing annoyance, wondering what was digging into his side. Then he recalled, not long before Gareth and Jeff left, that Jeff had pulled off the mannequin's arm and they took turns brandishing it like a sword. Eddie dimly remembered the arm next to him in bed when he passed out in a tipsy haze. He rolled over and started to sink back into sleep.

Something wiggled along his spine.

Eddie jerked upright and to the side with a strangled gasp. He moved so fast that his spine made an odd popping noise and by some miracle he didn't end up on the floor. Something was alive in his bed.

“Is that my fucking arm?”.

Eddie screeched and whirled towards the voice that just spoke. There was a man in his fucking room. It was too dark to see anything more than a silhouette, backlit with meager moonlight from the small window.

“W-what th- H-holy shit , I don't have any money man!”, Eddie said, frantic and garbled. He felt light headed; his heartbeat a rapid pulse in his ears. So at odds with the sluggish ebb of his thoughts and the sleep still encumbering his limbs. 

“I dont want fucking money, give me my arm asshole”, the voice said. 

“Wha -I don't know what that means, l-look just take whatever and go”.

The voice groaned like the home invader was the one inconvenienced.

“Like I want to be here? You're the one that kidnapped me from the mall, then stole my arm! now give it back”, the man said, a slight whine edging into his vexed tone. 

Eddie wasn't convinced they were having the same conversation. His body moved on autopilot, trying to appease the man’s commands as he mentally debated if this was all a vivid dream. He patted his person as if he had anything on him besides a worn t-shirt and boxers.

“Next to you, Jesus”

Eddie blinked, still processing, “Kidnap ? The fuck-I never, how ev-, I-I took a mannequ-” he said, dazed, his hands reaching out blindly on the bed sheet next to him. His left hand bumped into something warm and smooth.

There was a click. The darkness was cut through with the bright glow of his bedside lamp. 

Eddie noticed first that the man in his room wasn't wearing clothes. Mostly. He looked around Eddie’s age and was just miles of smooth tan skin and toned lines that were not at all hindered by a pale blue lingerie set. Indecent was not a word Eddie used often, the term usually directed at him, but the current display had him clutching his metaphorical pearls. Also, there were crude scrawlings of black marker all over the man’s face, like the first person to fall asleep at a truly vicious sleepover. He had uneven sketchy glasses, a stupid french villain mustache and a crooked goatee. 

The second thing Eddie noticed was his searching hand was resting on a hairy forearm. There was a severed arm in his bed.

“WHAT THE FUC-” Eddie leaped up and away, tripping over the blankets wrapped around his legs and falling straight into the almost naked burglar. The man grabbed Eddie (third thing Eddie noticed is the guy only had one arm) trying to keep vertical but they both went down in a tangle of limbs.

“Ow! fuck, Dude ”, the stranger groaned.

“Oh my god, what the fuck, there’s a fucking arm in my be-,” Eddie’s words muffled into incomprehensible noises when the other rolled them sideways, pinning Eddie under him as he sat up. The man didn't respond to Eddie's alarmed yelp. Instead, he reached over to grab the arm on the bed spread.

“Ew , don't touch i-”

The man ignored him and Eddie noticed that for all the separation of limbs going on there was remarkably little blood. None. No gore, exposed bones or flaps of skin. The place where the mans’ shoulder ended was fuzzy–like TV static. The end of the arm was the same way, like Eddie couldn't focus properly on what he was seeing.

The man hoisted up the arm and with a quick motion, snapped it back into place. He shook it out and started moving both shoulders in circles. Like a seasoned athlete warming up for a game.

Eddie watched speechless, mouth hung open. He wanted drugs to be the explanation, but he was unfortunately familiar enough with being high that he knew what stone cold sober felt like. Eddie's eyes lowered. There were more doodles and words scrawled on the man's chest and stomach. Eddie paused on a hand-drawn devil face, horns and everything–Hellfire’s club logo, right above the man’s belly button. Eddie remembered drawing it, and cursing when he made the second horn too big cause the marker skidded across a plastic ab.

With a dread thick in his gut, Eddie turned his head slowly and glanced at the corner of the room where they had left the defaced, barely-clothed mannequin.

The corner was empty.

“Where am I? This is not the GAP”

Eddie looked back at the man still sitting on him, now with two arms, crossed across his chest. His handsome face was carved with a scowl, bordering a pout. Eddie absentmindedly observed that the guy was hot . Like, probably the hottest man Eddie had seen in real life. And it wasn't the sexy underwear–the same pale blue combo that Gareth had stolen. The man was so attractive, he made a dying marker look good. He had brown swoopy hair, expressive eyebrows, pink lips and moles everywhere .

“You-you're the mannequin ?” Eddie asked. The question feels stupid–obvious but also absurd. Like asking if the moon was real and if it was made of cheese in the same breath.  

“Yes, duh ” the man rolled his eyes, “also it’s Steve, now why am I here? Did you rob the GAP or something?”, Steve said, eyeing Eddie's room like it was tainted.

Eddie blinked, dazed. The mannequin had a name. And it was rude as hell.

“Hellooo, do you have ears? Why did you rob the GAP and take me? Where's the new summer collection, huh? I was in The All-american Polo with a contrast collar, slim fit and the #5 khakis, size 32", Steve said. His chin tilted up as he stared at Eddie down his nose.

“I didn't rob anywhere, are you talking about the GAP in the mall ? Starcourt mall?" Eddie asked.

The annoyance disappeared from Steve's face, leaving it cold and intimidating–anger sunk under the surface to fester. His eyes narrowed, “are you always this slow?” he asked, voice tight. 

Eddie opened and closed his mouth. The manne- Steve’s glare was making his skin feel hot and itchy. He’s had unrealistic dreams start like this before, unfortunately the way those usually end is not a likely outcome in this situation.

“I didn’t know you're from the GAP, you were out by the dumpsters, man”

“The dumpster?!” Steve looked affronted. He jumped up and off Eddie to start pacing the room ranting. 

“The fucking dumpster ? They were going to throw me away? I'm supposed to be displaying hot new summer looks at reasonable prices. I’m the frontline of fashion, dammit! I don’t deserve to-to model a fucking trash bag ”. He abruptly stopped and whirled around on Eddie who was sitting up, trying to drag himself back on the bed.

“Why am I in this ”, Steve asked, plucking at the lacy bra on his chest, “also fucking marker? Are you serious, you guys 8 years old or something?”. Steve waved an angry hand from his face to down his body. He planted his other hand on a jutted hip.

Eddie's eyes followed Steve’s wave as if it was an invitation. His eyes slid down Steve's figure, marker and all. Eddie swallowed, the bulge wrapped in baby-blue was bigger than the one he had imagined.

“Are you going to answer any of my questions or just keep staring at my crotch?” Steve asked. Both hands on his hips now, unashamed, almost presenting in contrast to his sharp words.

Eddie's eyes flew up, his cheeks hot. 

“Uh yeah, or…no, I’m 20 not 8 years old”, Eddie said. Steve’s glare was volatile. Eddie put up his hands in surrender, “sorry , we were being stupid, just messing around. I'm so sorry, we didn't know you were, uh, alive …do, ah, all mannequins come to life?”

“As far as I know, Just me” Steve answered, preoccupied, looking off into the distance. He ran a hand through his hair and pursed his lips, “Ugh , can't believe they threw me out, I'm the best male sport model they have, I'm the only one that does the athletic stance”. He demonstrates with a pose that Eddie assumed was flawless but he's a little distracted with how the lingerie stretched around Steve’s spread thighs, leaving a little less of his crotch to imagination.

“Uh, well that's great…I mean the pose not the being… fired ? not sure why they threw you out but, um, I can drive you back-" Eddie hiccupped when he was roughly pulled up by the front of his T-shirt. Steve leaned in close and snarled.

“Absolutely not, you're gonna clean up what you did” Steve said. His face inches from Eddie’s.

“What?” Eddie asked, wrong-footed. They were so close, he could see flashes of the inside of Steve's mouth.

Steve furrowed his brow and shook Eddie, “all the marker, you're gonna wash it off”.

[ continue reading ]

[brittscafe]

Hi there!

Can I request bleach men finding out along the grape vine that s/o likes them. But like add some spice ✨ by this I mean, maybe the men can over hear s/o thirsting for them. Or anything else, please be free to do anything.

Characters (in order of importance): Byakuya, Shunsui, ichigo, Jushiro, Toshiro.

(If this is too many please remove characters starting from the back).

hiiii! ohhh?? spice??? My fav, ofc <3 <3 I loveddd writing all of these for each character, but I think my fav was Shunsui's!! Let me know your fav <3

Byakuya: He's heard plenty of rumors before and he's never really believed them. He's not one to care for rumors, nor believe them. But, he has heard a lot of rumors in the Soul Society that peak his interest.

It takes a lot to catch Byakuya's attention and certainly have. He plans on catching your attention in a bold way.

You're walking along the dirt road of the soul society, the sun beaming down on your face. Byakuya's standing the corner, eyes on you.

He loves the way that the sun gleams onto your face, heightening your pretty features. Byakuya steps out from the corner and a tiny gasp escapes your chest as he pops out from nowhere.

He towers over you with his tall, slender figure.

"Y/n, come here," he beckons you with a deep voice and your heart drops down to your feet.

"Um...ok," you mumble out, following him back to his estate. The cherry blossoms are flowing around in the air, so soft and light. Your eyes are stuck on them, almost trapped in a trance.

"I think of you like a blossom petal. Delicate and so pretty," his voice is soft and romantic.

Who knew Byakuya could be such a romantic?

Your eyes widen as he reaches out and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. God, you're falling in love with him.

"What?" you blurt out, furrowing your eyebrows together. Why is he all of sudden talking to you like this? It doesn't make any sense.

"I've heard you speak of the cherry blossoms in my estate. I've also heard you say how you would like to rip off my ropes and kiss me from bottom to top," his voice is stern, but has a hint of amusement in it.

Your eyes widen and your stomach twists into uneasy knots. Your knees feel like they're gonna buckle underneath you. Face planting in front of Byakuya would be 10 times less embarrassing right now.

"Oh my god! I didn't think you would ever catch wind of that. I am so embarrassed!" you raise your voice, hiding your face in the palm of your hands.

Byakuya lets out a tiny chuckle, it's so quiet you wouldn't have noticed it if there was a cricket chirping.

"How about I take you out first? I suggest a date first, then we could get the tearing off my ropes later. After all...I am a gentleman."

There is no way Byakuya Kuchiki is suggesting that the two of you go on a date right now.

You slowly lift your head up from your hands, embarrassment written all over your face. Byakuya gazes into your eyes and you're finding it hard to even speak.

Your palms are sweaty, but your body is excited. Your heart is thudding, but it's ecstatic with joy.

"Ok," is all you can whisper out. Byakuya nods his head and starts to walk away.

You stand there, dazed, confused, but happy. You now have a date with Captain Kuchiki.

Shunsui: You're sitting beside your friend in the bar, gushing about Shunsui, not realizing that he had walked in and taken a seat right beside you and was listening you gush about him.

"I mean, come on, who doesn't like Captain Kyoraku? Have you seen how big his muscles are?!" you giggle out, throwing your head back and your friend's eyes widen at the figure behind you.

"So...you like my muscles then?" a familiar, raspy voice speaks up from behind you. You don't even notice that Shunsui nudges your shoulder as he speaks to you as your heart sinks down into your feet.

Your eyes widen and you stare at your friend in total awe. You slowly turn to face Shunsui, palms sweaty as you try to only imagine what is going to happen next.

Shunsui wears a playfully grin across his face, white teeth winking at you. Your face heats up and you slowly bring your hands up to your face, covering it with pure embarrassment.

Shunsui chuckles lightly and slowly reaches out to you. He can't help feeling so attracted to you, eyes glistening in the bar setting. His large hand grabs both of yours, causing your body to tingle.

He gently pulls your hands away from your face, not letting go of them. Your eyes meet his and Shunsui cups your cheek with his other hand.

You furrow your eyebrows for a minute, not having enough time to react to anything. Shunsui pulls your face towards his, closing his eyes and pressing his lips against yours.

A gasp leaves your friends lips, loud enough to echo throughout the whole bar.

Your heart pounds against your chest as his lips melt into yours. You can feel his beard against your chin and mouth, tickling it. Shunsui slowly pulls away from your lips and opens his eyes, glancing up at you.

His gaze is hot, making you feel like your body is on fire. He smiles widely before standing up and walking out of the bar. You can hear your friend giggling behind you.

"What just happened?" you mumble out, pressing a finger to burning lips, seeming to want more...

Ichigo: School is full of gossip and rumors traveling along the grapevine. It's hard to tell what rumor is a lie or the truth these days at Karakura high.

Ichigo likes to learn about all the new gossip, but he will never comment on anything like that. He likes to stand in the corner, arms crossed and leaning against the wall as he takes in all the new information.

"I mean didn't you hear that y/n likes Ichigo?" a girl scoffs out. He cocks an eyebrow with interest, tuning into the new gossip session.

"Please, like they would ever have a chance with him," another girl rolls her eyes with annoyance.

That smug smirk on his face slowly fades into a face of shock. His eyebrows are furrowed and he wishes he could sink into the wall he's leaning against.

He slowly brings his hand up to his jaw, rubbing it. Ichigo thinks you're so sweet, nice, and genuine. You always help him when he's behind on work and you're super cute, honestly his heart tinges a little for you.

Ichigo glances out into the hallway and there you are, walking down the hallway, heading to the group of girls.

What horrible timing.

You're staying close to the wall, trying to avoid the rather large crowd of girls by the lockers.

"Hey Y/n! Isn't it true that you like Kurosaki?" a girl calls out to you and your stomach twists into knots. You glance over at her, at a lost for words.

"Oh, come on! Just tell the truth, it doesn't matter anyways. It's not like you have a chance with him," a girl comments, glaring you up and down.

You're taken aback by their mean words and demeanor. It strikes you in the heart and your throat starts to become raspy and burn a bit, tears welling up in your eyes.

Ichigo breath hitches in his throat as he watches your face drop. He hated seeing that.

"Oh my god, there is no way. They're crying about it," a girl giggles out and the rest of the girls break out into laughter. You sink down into your figure and start to rush off.

Ichigo pushes himself off the wall and steps in front of you, blocking your path. You gaze up at him, teary eyed and cheeks burning.

The group of girls are staring at Ichigo and you. He wants them to see this. It's gonna be burned in their little minds.

Ichigo's hand grab onto your waist and pull you closer. Suddenly, he dips his head down and captures your lips with his. Your eyes widen and scan Ichigo's face as his warm lips are pressed against yours.

Your body relaxes and you lean into his touch, closing your gasp. You hear the group of girls gasp loudly behind you and start whispering, but you could care less about them right now.

Ichigo slowly pulls away from the kiss, the two of you opening your eyes and meeting each other's gaze.

"Come on," Ichigo gestures with his head, holding out his hand for you to grab. You glance down at his hand then back at the girls, standing there in utter shock.

Your lips are warm and tingling from the kiss. You gaze back at Ichigo and take his hand, allowing him to take you away.

Jushiro: He's one to soak in all the new gossip spreading around the Soul Society. Never speaking up, just smiling politely and nodding his head, retaining all the information in his head.

Although, there's one rumor that catches his attention. He raises his eyebrows with interest as he hears that you might have a crush on him.

"Wait, what? How did you come across this information?" Jushiro steps into the conversation. Rangiku laughs a little bit, throwing her head back.

"Well, she told me, Captain. All of us know, right, Hanataro?" Rangiku asks, nudging his shoulder. Hanatora's eyes widen and he gulps, glancing over at you behind his shoulder.

"It is true, Captain Ukitake. In fact, if you want to ask y/n, they are right behind us," he gulps out, lowering his head with shame. Rangiku snaps her head over to you standing behind them, a dazed look across your face.

"Oh my gosh, y/n! I am so sorry, but I think I hear Captain Hitsugaya calling my name. Gotta go, bye!" Rangiku quickly takes off with Hanatora scrambling behind her.

You stare at Jushiro, heart racing against your chest. Now, he knows everything. It's like you're standing naked right in front of him, with no where to run.

Jushiro clears his throat and smiles warmly at you. You're surprised at his actions, thinking he would act indifferent to you.

"You shouldn't really listen to them spreading rumors around like that," he plays it off, crossing his arms and slowly walking up to you.

You gulp and slowly nod your head. "Yeah, I know," you lower your gaze to the ground, slightly embarrassed of the events that just happened.

Jushiro steps closer to you, reaching out his hand and cupping your face. Your eyes widen and your heart skips a beat. You slowly lift your gaze from the ground up into Jushiro's soft eyes.

Your body is getting warmer as his hand rests on your cheek, thumb caressing your skin. He shoots you a warm smile and then tilts his head.

"See you around, y/n," his voice is husk and gentle. His hand falls back down to his side and he walks past you, cologne whisking in the air as you're left in shock.

Toshiro: You're helping Rangiku out with some paperowrk that Captain Hitsugaya assigned her. You scribble with the pen on the paper, putting it into another pile.

"Gosh, Captain Hitsugaya is so lame for making me do all this paperwork," Rangiku complains, hunching over in her seat.

"What? I think Captain Hitsugaya is super cool! He's really sweet when you get to know him," you shrug your shoulders.

"Trust me, he's super boring and strict. Makes me do paperwork all day," Rangiku groans out, rolling her eyes with annoyance.

"Come on, Rangiku. He can't be that bad. He's a really good person with a good soul," you comment and Rangiku leans in closer, narrowing her eyes.

"Sounds like someone has a crush," she giggles out and your eyes widen.

"What?! No way!" you reply back, raising your voice slightly. She leans back in the chair and has a smug smirk on her face.

"Sureeee," she chuckles out, shaking her head in disbelief. You scoff and chew on your bottom lip.

"Maybe just a little," you admit.

"Whatever. Moral of the story is that Toshiro is super lame for this," she sighs out.

"Now, Rangiku, I don't think that's quite true," Toshiro's voice rings out and Rangiku's head perks up. She chuckles nervously and pushes the chair back.

"I have to leave now, but good luck!" she quickly scrambles off, leaving you and Toshiro. You turn your head and see Toshiro walking towards you.

"Guess you heard her call you lame, huh?" you ask, letting out a tiny chuckle as Toshiro sits down across from you. He nods his head, a slight smile on his face.

"Sure did. Also heard everything else the two of you were discussing, but no worries. I also think you're super cool," Toshiro speaks with a hoarse voice.

You lift your eyes up from the paperwork and across the desk at Toshiro, gulping. Your heart flatters as his foot gentle taps yours and he smiles at you.

You clear your throat and nod your head, resuming the paperwork as Toshiro keeps you company.

Captain Hitsugaya thinks it's very cute that you have a crush on him.

[violetmuses]

Phoenix - A. Aretas ❤️‍🩹

Title: Phoenix - A. Aretas ❤️‍🩹

Fandom: “Bad Boys” Film Universe

Character: Armando Aretas

Pairing: Armando Aretas + Female Reader

Main Storyline: An unexpected bond may never fade out.

Tag List: @nelo0wesker @yassbishimvintage @nobodygetsza @peaxhygirl @superstar-t20 @adoresmiles @klssngss @deja-r @hyper-trash-panda @amethyst-loves-bucky @planetblaque 🏷

=====

2024

“Stay out of my way.” Your joyful personality vanished at the Miami Police Department.

Wearing this Bud Light shirt, Armando chose one trucker hat that veiled his brown eyes. Jeans covered both legs and boots stepped along.

Shit! Upon realization, Detective Mike Lowrey scrambled into this precinct once you crossed paths with previous criminal Armando Aretas.

After facing many questions or encountering secrets over time, even Mike took responsibility and now stood as Armando's biological father.

“Don't panic. Armando has joined our team.” Mike buffered each stance in the hallway.

“Keep him away from me.” You then stood ground this time.

“He's your partner.” Mike offered reality, but still cringed.

“What the hell, Mike?” You immediately turned around.

“I've pulled strings for Armando and we'll explain everything.” Mike continued speaking.

To cut down time in prison, Aretas would help the AMMO squad.

Given no other option, you moved forward and headed to the briefing room.

Here we go.

______

Intelligent agencies whispered that late Captain Conrad Howard muddled with the cartel for years, but Mike and his partner Marcus Burnett would hustle and prove Cap’s innocence right away.

Soon enough, you discovered that Armando could identify whoever framed Captain Howard in the first place.

“Dorn has files we need, but our department is compromised.” Mike offered this truth and your heart dropped.

“Rats in the walls.” You repeat that warning from Cap's footage. This inside job could change everything.

“Yeah. Let's go.” Mike nodded, leading everyone out of this precinct.

*******

Radio silence grounded that commute when Mike Lowrey parked near this boathouse located on the waterfront.

“Stay outside.” Mike instructed Armando regardless of circumstances and exited the well-known Porsche beside Marcus.

“Still hate me?” Offering slightly accented English, Armando taunts while sitting next to you.

“Shut up.” You clipped right back. “I'm leaving when this case ends.”

“What?” Still wearing that trucker hat, Armando faced your direction.

“You heard me.” You wouldn't repeat that phrase this time. “I'm only here for the mission.”

“I barely know who you are.” Aretas revealed this truth over your presence.

“So what?” You then scoffed near Armando. “Mike is your father, but I'm not staying around the same person who hurt my friends.”

Armando turned silent, definitely puzzled with emotions.

“Siento haberte asustado.” Using his native language of Spanish, Aretas apologized to you.

“No eres un maldito fantasma.” Snipping in return, your partner is not a ghost.

“Lo sé, pero no luches conmigo para siempre.” Armando didn't want you to keep fighting against him.

Fed up, you leave this Porsche and sit by the dock instead, but Aretas follows your every move.

______

Sooner than later, nightfall crossed sunset as both of you still waited to enter Dorn's house.

“What's your name at least?” Giving English back, Armando faced you without jokes.

“Doesn't matter.” You defended yourself through privacy.

Before Aretas could respond, extra footsteps creaked on the dock as Mike walked close.

“Everything's set up. C'mon.” Lowrey didn't play around and you head inside, joining the team as planned.

****

“Kelly's with Dorn?” You whispered to Marcus despite everything, shocked for a moment.

“Found Kelly leaving the bathroom.” Burnett chuckled, shrugging.

“Ooh!” Humored, you laugh for the first time in quite a while.

Tech genius Dorn and weapons expert Kelly dated each other now.

“Did you kick his ass yet?” Marcus gestured near Armando while digital screens lined up the culprit search.

“I would've broken the dock into pieces to fight him.” You defended your skills.

“No.” Aretas clipped without turning away from his search.

“Uh-uh.” Mike intervened once more. “Don't start anything else, you two. Focus.”

Sitting down, you shook your head toward Kelly, but Armando trailed with materials anyway.

Damn.

*****

Bingo!

James McGrath: Former Army Ranger turned DEA agent. Tortured before joining the cartel himself.

Grounding this abandoned alligator park located in Florida, Mike pulled his trigger to kill McGarth and the mission exonerated Captain Howard.

Before Marshal Judy Howard, Captain's grieving daughter, gunned down Armando with revenge, you walked forward.

“Don't!” You lifted both hands and stood as protection.

“Get out of here before I change my mind.” Judy holstered the firearm despite grieving and you helped wounded Armando move until further notice.

=====

2025

This crowded terminal helped Armando Aretas return to Miami without drama. Even traveling the world pulled different strings for quite some time.

When you stand near “Baggage Claim,” Armando wouldn't even hold back this opportunity to smile.

“Hi. Sorry I'm late….” Your path stepped closer, but Aretas dropped luggage and hugged you, just thankful to be alive here.

[fictionalmenxyn]

¡𝟏𝟎 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐈 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮!

Pt.2

Pairing: Rafe x Reader (strangers/enemies to lovers)

Warnings: language

-❂❂❂-

It was the next day, Rafe wore a white polo with navy slacks. His usual yet more ‘fancier’ outfit. He wanted to look good. Not that he needed to, but he did anyway.

You wore a light grey tank top, with blue baggy jean shorts and your adidas campuses. Topping the outfit off with a small silver chain, your rings and a pair of 2000s sunglasses.

The weather was nice, the suns shinned down on the high school.

You pulled up to school, rock punk music blaring. Your windows down, you pulled into your usual parking spot. Stepping out of your car your friends approached you. Starting up conversations, you leaned on the hood of your car.

Rafe sat in a small wall with his friends. He watched as you lean down to look in your wing mirror, to see if your hair was slicked back. He liked your style, never thought he’d be into a girl who wore baggy clothes. He was used to the tight fitted cali girls.

-❂❂❂-

You sat in one of the vacant music rooms, an empty room besides to small desks that are pressed to the wall. Some broken chairs. And obviously cased instruments.

You had your headphones on, only one side covering your ear. You had your borrowed fender (from your friend, cause she plays drums and had the guitar from her dad). The electric guitar sat on your lap, holding the neck of the fender in your left hand. You strummed the electric guitar to the beat of the song ‘Just A Girl’ by No Doubt.

Rage heard the guitar, he walked towards the music. Peaking into the classroom, to see you.

You sang quietly, not planning on anyone hearing in. “Take this pink ribbon off my eye…”

‘Oh my god, she sounds amazing’ he thought.

“I’m exposed and it’s no big surprise… don’t you think I know exactly where I stand??”

Your head bops as you play, Rafe watched in awe.

“Cause I’m just a girl in the world, a little ol’ me, well don’t let me out of your sight… oh I’m just a girl in the world, all pretty and petit, so don’t let me have any rights, ohhh I’ve had it up to here…”

Rafe muttered “oh fuck…” he watched as you play the guitar. In a world of your own. He watched you to know that he thought it was cool. But didn’t wanna scare you by you knowing he was watching. Not yet anyways…

“Oh I’m just a girl, take a good look at me, just your typical prototype, ohhh I’ve had it up to, here..”

You bop your head, feeling the music, your escape.

“Ohhh am I making myself clear??, I’m just a girl… I’m just a girl in the world, that’s all that you’ll ever let me be…”

Soon after, your strumming dragged, you subtly faded the song out. You turn some of the nobs on the fender.

Rafe thought this was the time to announce his presence. He quietly opened the door and leaned against the doorway. He crossed his arms, “nice play… wish I was that talented…”

You flinched slightly, you looked over your shoulder. “Rafe? What’re you doing here??” He chuckled softly, walking further into the room. “Head the great guitar, so I followed the music, and… it took me right here…”

He sat in the empty desk opposite where you sat. He asked “so? How long have you played?” You looked down to the guitar, you answered “about six years??” He let out a low whistle “damn, sweetheart, you got skills…” you chuckled “thanks…”

He asked “this yours? If so you got good taste…” He gestured to the white and pearl fender. You shook your head “nah, this is my friends, she’s letting me borrow it till I save my cash to get my own…” he took note of that. He nodded “right, you like your music then I take it?” You nodded. He didn’t bother asking what you liked. He knew. Topper and him had a little ‘get together’ so he could learn about you. He knows the majority about you now… or as much as Topper’s sister and Topper knew anyways…

-❂❂❂-

You walked down the hallway, scoffing when Brooks checked you out. You kept walking, heading to science.

Rafe saw the way Brooks checked you out. Rafe didn’t know your past. But the look Brooks gave you said something. He didn’t know what, but it was something. He also didn’t know Brooks had the hots for your sister. Rather than you.

-❂❂❂-

In science, you sat at the middle-left desk. With two of your friends and a random girl that never talked with you. You all had to dissect a frog. In your eyes, there was nothing wrong with that. Come on, it was a part of the educational system. Also, it’s basic nature, you never understood why everyone was grossed out by it. You roll your eyes when you hear the ‘popular’ girls over react to get the jocks’ attention.

Rafe was never grossed out by this stuff. Why should you? It’s already dead, it’s not gonna jump on you. Besides, you had gloves, just had to be careful for any juices that may fly on you. He was known for a slightly ‘bad’ or ‘scary’ reputation. Having thrown wild and obnoxious parties in California. Or the wild stories he’s had. Somehow coming over to Outer Banks. He never knew how half the stories got here, but… they flew over along with him.

He chuckled with the guys when they all saw the way you and your friends acted with the frogs compared to the rest of the girls in class.

He had to hold his laughter back when you flicked some random liquid at the popular girls. Them being over dramatic, when all you actually did was tip water on your hands under the desk and flicked water on them.

You were a trouble maker, a shit stirrer, a good laugh. He liked that. A lot.

-❂❂❂-

At lunch, Rafe had a chat with Jake. Jake mentioned to him about making a deal. One that got him money, not that he needed it. But he liked how it involved getting closer to you, the money was just a bonus. He may even had a plan on how to use that spare cash…

Rage was in. The deal, getting close to you, allowing Gabs to go on dates and go to parties with Brooks. Whatever you did with Rafe, Gabs could do with Brooks. Rafe got spare cash, Gabs got to live the ‘teenage dream’ she wanted to have. Even if the movies hyped it up to much.

This was the perfect time, the school formal was just around the corner. Also a party at the ‘golfer guys’ place.

Well just have to see if you go through with it all…

-❂❂❂-

[scoobydoodean]

I think to me what a lot of people who fiercely hold onto the idea that "Cas was right" in season 6 don't get is that the season isn't a cautionary tale about how Cas is always wrong no matter what. It's a cautionary tale about how our own insecurities and hubris and the lies we tell ourselves have room to grow aggressively and loom large over us and take mastery over us when we choose to isolate ourselves and stand alone.

Cas is sitting on that bench alone in "The Man Who Would Be King" and that's his biggest issue. In the past, he had Uriel sitting beside him then Dean sitting beside him then Uriel sitting beside him again. He had Anna's pleading and her calm insistence that he knew deep down what his integrity demanded he do, standing in the snow under flickering street light. In The Man Who Would Be King", Cas sits alone because he has chosen to be alone and not to truly trust anybody (not Crowley, not the angels, not Balthazar, not Sam or Dean or Bobby, not Rachel). When he eventually realized he desperately wanted help, he felt it was too late to ask because he'd already done irreparable damage (he hadn't). And he didn't want any of his friends to be disappointed in him. He decided he couldn't turn back from the path he'd chosen because he'd already walked this far (sunk cost fallacy) and pre-decided that his friend's would reject him, even when it all came to light and Dean still pleaded,

It's not too late. We can fix this.

I think it's telling that Sam's prayer after Cas breaks his brain is what brings Cas back to them.

SAM: Hey, Castiel. Um... Maybe this is pointless. Look... I don't know if any part of you even cares, but, um, I still think you're one of us, deep down. I mean, way, way, way off the reservation, but... Look, we still have till dawn to stop this. Let us help. Please.

Despite everything, Cas's friends are still willing to help him and accept him back into the fold. It was never a story about Cas being so stupid and wrong. It was a story about how isolating ourselves because we're afraid we'd buckle under the weight of all our own missteps and are afraid of being judged and rejected once we've followed the wrong road too far is a recipe for disaster.

[enhadelus]

BOLD

pairing: park sunghoon x reader

description: you have always been bold, there’s no other way of describing yourself, not when you have always been direct with your words and actions, never being one to shy out of any situation. but what happens when you meet the most handsome man ever and actually feel shy for the first time?

!THIRTEENTH!

Y/n loves the spooky season, loves watching scary movies, the weird decorations, people that dress up, everything. She knows that it is still September but she can already feel the chilling vibes coming up and obviously every year she meets up with her friends to do a little gathering and enjoy all the terrifying things of the season. It's already saturday; the day that she and her friends agreed to gather together at her place, so she is making sure everything is set up correctly. 

“Okay, lights, check, snacks, check plus the ones Jae is bringing, the drinks that he also is going  to help me with, I have the movies ready… Everything seems ready!” and just in time she heard the bell ring, alerting her that someone was outside, Jake being the one. “Hey! Came in a bit early to help you.” “hi! Perfect, come in boy." He has been in her place multiple times now, so he just went in directly to her kitchen to start preparing the drinks. “if we are actually going to give Riki some, then they're going to be softer than what you drink, you alcoholic.” “yeah yeah, as long as they are good, I don't really care” and not long after that, they finished the few things that needed to be done. 

While waiting for the other three guys to arrived the two best friends started to talked a bit “so y/n, Sunghoon seems to be the first guy to ever make you this shy and actually tidy your place hmmm” her friend started to tease her, while wiggling his eyebrows “shut up” she said while covering her face “i don't know why i feel this way around him, it's embarrassing” he could her mumbling behind her hands “so it is a fact that you are interested in him?” “Well, yes, I mean I would be flattered if he gives me a chance you know? But i don't know if he just wants to be friends or not, and besides we haven't known each other for that long to be saying stuff like this anyways” “well, that's true but you know it when you want something serious or just to be friends with someone, like you know that you are into someone” she bites her lip while thinking for a moment and before she can say anything they hear a scream “hey!! We are here, open up before I throw rocks at your window!!” clearing, indicating that Riki it's here with Jungwon and Sunghoon.

Rolling her eyes, she stands up and walks to the door, opening it to be greeted by the three guys, Riki quickly comes close to her and indulge her in a big hug “thank god you opened, i was actually going to throw rocks” “oh, i believe you, don't worry” the girl says before wrapping her arms around him as well “Jake! You came earlier” the energetic boy says before going towards the boy that is currently sitting on the sofa “Hi y/n, thank you for inviting us” “Hi Won! I'm glad you could make it.” The cat boy and the girl share a quick hug before he also follows Riki’s steps and greets Jake “Hi…” “Hi Hoon! You haven’t met Jake right? Let me introduce you two!” She is quick to grab his hand and pull him inside while she calls out for Jake to officially meet the boy that they were talking about.

After introductions and a quick catch up chit chat, they decided to start the marathon. In the girl's apartment they were two sofas, which to her living alone were too many but she often had visits from the two guys so they were very much needed. On one of the sofas were seated Jake, Riki and Jungwon, leaving you and Sunghoon on the other one. All of them focused on the movie, once in a while some of them making a comment about the movie making everyone laugh or just commenting something else but more than that, all of them enjoyed the movie, while snacking and drinking. It was time for the third movie and around the time they decided to put it on, most of them were pretty much tipsy and getting hungrier and even more chattier than during the first two movies. “I told you we needed to put less shots on Riki’s drink, look at him!” Jake accused the girl while giving her a stern look “You made the drinks bitch! Why are you blaming me!” “I made the first two rounds, you made the third one and… wait, who made the last round?” “I think it was Won! And probably Riki told him to give him more shots! You made my baby drunk Won, how could you??” Now the girl stood up and grabbed Riki’s head in a hugging manner while caressing his face “shhh, it is going to be okay Riks, shhh” “I think she is way more drunk than he is” Jungwon says while watching the situation next to him “you might be right Won, hey y/n how drunk are you right now?” “I’m not drunk, i’m just happy” “she is drunk you guys”.

The guys were laughing at how clingy she got to the boy that she claims its her baby, and Riki seem to be enjoying the attention of her, while wrapping his arms around her too saying “Now i get to say that everything its going to be okay girl” now Jake it's laughing and he proceeds to do the same, grabbing the girl by her shoulders and saying “Shhhh, don’t worry” “Ughhh, leave me alone! You guys know I don’t have a high alcohol tolerance!!” both boys proceed to let her alone, she moves back to where she was seated at the beginning “you guys making fun of Riki but look at the state of you pretty” now even Sunghoon is teasing her but this time she didn’t mind the teasing when she heard him calling her “pretty”.

Looking back to the other three she noticed that they were bickering between them and before she could say anything he asked “but seriously, are you okay?” now looking at him so close she blushes even more before saying “y-yea… it is true i can’t handle alcohol that well” “well that i can see” he smirks playfully at her while watching her look at him with wide eyes, she proceeds to throw her head back while covering it “ugh… it is embarrassing if you see me like this” Sunghoon felt confident enough to grab her hands pulling them out of her face “don’t cover up, I want to see you” “you…” “Y/N!! We are hungry!!!” Both of them straighten up their pose and look at Riki and she just says “What do you want me to do about it? Go grab something from the pantry" "I already looked there, and you don’t have what I want!” the tall boy whines and then Jake proceeds to protest as well “yeah! You don’t have what I want either! You and Sunghoon should go to the convenience store and buy what we want!” Jake grabs her hands and drags her to the door “wa-wait!” She looks behind her and sees that Jungwon is pushing Sunghoon to go with her. Now the two of them are outside her place, she just sighs and grabs his arm “let’s just go and buy something” again Sunghoon feels confident and instead of being dragged by her, he grabs her hand and smiles at her “alright, let’s go”. 

They ended up just grabbing some chips for Jake and Riki, gummies for Jungwon and two ice creams for both of them, walking back hand in hand while also eating their ice cream each, he starts “thank you for inviting me tonight, I have enjoyed it so far” “i’m glad you had, and i am also glad you came” “oh? Wanted me to come so badly?” “Shush, maybe i did” it seemed that the alcohol made them switch personalities. “hmm, i was happy when you invited me” “i was happy that you said yes, I… want to be closer to you Hoon…” “It’s like you read my mind, I want to be closer to you too y/n”.

[mymarifae]

millies everywhere died

[tonycries]

Bad Boys Bring Roses - G.S.

Synopsis. You’ve never dealt with the yakuza - not once. So why is the future head of the Gojo clan suddenly coming up to you, demanding that you marry him for 30 days?

Pairing. Yakuza boss! Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, yakuza! au, fake marriage, annoyances to lovers, elders suck, mentioned k*lling (not reader or Satoru), Satoru is INSANE and SO down bad, one bed trope, praise, biting, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, flower language, kníves, bit dark, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 9.1k (whoopsies)

A/N. I just HAD to get this out of my mind like I wanna write an entire book series on this. Spent too long researching rose language as well so see if y’all catch that hehe.

You thought the wedding invitation was a joke when it had arrived - a delicate, lacey little card that you’ve probably read over a million times by now. It had been stuffed haphazardly into your mailbox, along with a ridiculously large bouquet of purple roses. Seemingly inconspicuous when you first tore into the thick envelope, wondering which one of your friends was getting married now. 

And it was - that is, until you saw your name at the very top - right where the blushing bride’s was supposed to be. 

We hereby formally invite you to the marriage of…

What? 

No return address. No date. No groom’s name either. Only yours, written in beautiful, golden writing - inviting you to your own wedding, exactly a week from now.

You remember perfectly the way you’d flipped it over and over in your hands, the gears turning in your head as you tried to crack down on the motive behind this invitation. A threat? A joke? Texting all of your friends about what a cute prank that was - only to get a shared confused reaction, and a few “April Fool’s has already passed, y’know.”

Hell, you’d even cornered the mailman, desperate to get to the bottom of this. But that wasn’t particularly helpful when he was only able to shake his head in protest, pale as a sheet, and trembling ever-so-slightly as he sped away from you. Weird. 

Without a clue as to who sent the letter, or even a follow-up in the days after, you stuffed the invitation somewhere deep in the back of your closet and handed the bouquet to your mother. Not bothering to tell your parents where it was from - because who’d worry over a stupid prank like this? It was probably one of the kids from down the street that’d gotten their grubby lil’ hands on a printer. 

You, however, had more important things to focus on - like trying to help your father revive his failing diner. It was a family business, a quaint, hearty little shop. One that was quickly, and dangerously, losing both customers and employees with the brand new fast food place that’d popped up right across the street. 

Which is why you found yourself here - working overtime on a Saturday night, looking over the empty chairs and stacks of boxes from behind the counter. Whatever, it was only a few weeks until relocation anyway.

You heave out a sigh, eyes flitting to the clock beside you - 11:21pm.

Nine minutes more, you drum your fingers in boredom, maybe you should just close up early. Because sure as hell no one else was-

“Oh? Still open?”

“Ah- Uh, yes, welcome!” Jolting out of your reverie, you stand up ramrod straight, taking in the customer standing at the door. He wasn’t one of the regulars - no, you think you’d remember if he was. Cloudy white hair, piercing blue eyes that twinkle from above his shades, even in the dim light of the diner. He was so very tall, taking up almost all of the doorframe, only getting more and more imposing as he walks up to you in quick, long strides. Magnetizing. 

And if you dared let your eyes wonder, you caught a few tattoos peeking out from his unfairly snug button-up, clashing with its flashy blue color. Dragons? Trees? Or were they flowers - roses?

“Roses.” the man in front of you answers your unspoken question, voice so very deep, and melodic - tinged with something playful in it that you wouldn’t have expected at first glance. At your raised brow he continues with a wink, “Could tell ya were checkin’ me out, sweetheart.”

“F-forgive my rudeness, sir.” you sputter, face burning. You look away from the way his muscled ripple as he crosses his arms, immediately turning to fumble with the menus, “Please take a seat and I’ll be there with you shortly.”

You’d expected him to take up a booth, or maybe head towards one of the good tables around the corner. What you did not expect was for him to plop down on the stool right in front of you, flashing you a playful grin before humming, “S’alright, m’just waitin’ for someone.”

Oh. Well, it made sense that someone like him would be taken. Swallowing, you hand over the menu, before giving him a close-lipped smile, “A lover?”

Resting his head on his palms, not bothering to even glance at the list of dishes before him. “My fiancée.”

“Congratulations, Mr…”

“Gojo Satoru.” he tilts his head, looking way too happy with himself. “Please, call me Satoru.” 

You nod softly, picking up your pen and notepad to get this conversation over with - and maybe to also avoid his heavy stare that made something hot and uncomfortable coil in your stomach. “Right, Mr-” at his disappointed whine, “Satoru. Congratulations, must be one heck of a thing to plan.”

“Oh I’m having fun with the wedding planning.” He waves off your words with a chuckle, missing - or pointedly ignoring - the way you were waiting for his order. “How’s it going for you?”

What?

You narrow your eyes at the way Satoru was batting those long lashes up at you, deceivingly innocent and waiting for your answer. “I’m sorry- Me? Did you mean with the diner relocation plans or-”

“No no no.” he laughs, loud and boisterous. And usually you’d have a thing or two to say at someone interrupting you if you weren’t so mesmerized by that little dimple at the corner of his grin. One that moves as he plows on, “M’asking how wedding planning is going for you, wifey~”

There’s a beat of silence. One. Two. With you gaping at the pure audacity as Satoru quiets down to little titters, seemingly studying your reaction in amusement. Which slowly, but surely, drains from his face as you grit out a sharp, “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, sir. We’re very busy and don’t have time to entertain your pick-up lines.”

Those widened blue eyes sweep the painfully empty diner, letting out a low whisper. “I can see that.” you let out a strangled noise of embarrassment at that. “But you’re really gonna ask your husband to leave?”

Huffing in frustration, “I don’t have a husband.”

“...you do.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t. And who the fuck are you to tell me I do?”

“What?!” Satoru jumps out of his seat in shock, fast enough that the stool clatters to the floor with a deafening clang! Hands slamming on the counter as he leans over it - so close that you could feel his minty breath fanning your face with each hurried, shrill word that tumbles out of his lips. “What do you mean you don’t have a- I’m gonna kill those fuckin’- After I bought Canva premium just to make that invitation? Did the flowers come at least?”

And while Satoru is panicking, words spilling out of his mouth a mile a minute - only one of those rings in your mind - invitation. 

“You.” you hiss, barely audible over meltdown in front of you. Pointing a finger accusingly, “You’re the one behind that prank with the dumbass roses.”

That seems to snap Satoru out of his dramatic monologue - and you’re glad it did. Because he looks up to meet your glare, “Hey! You didn’t like the roses?” 

And for the first time, you see Satoru more serious than he’d been ever since stepping into this diner. Eyes somewhere behind you, ablaze and almost…frightening. “Didn’t you ask him?” 

You whirl around to see your father, who’d apparently rushed downstairs at the commotion. Baseball bat to fight off the intruder hanging in midair as he stands frozen, taking in the scene before him - but more importantly, that man in front of him. “You.”

---

And, well, it’s not everyday that you’re having late night tea with your parents and one of your father’s…business associates. Even rarer when said business associate is…you gulp, praying to whoever’s above that this is all some sick dream you’ll wake up any second from. 

“So, let me get this straight…” you sigh, pinching your nose in frustration. It’s been an hour or two of trying to understand whatever this was. Giving a stern look at the two men squirming across from you in the booth. “My father was conned by one of your-” you gesture your head at Satoru, which only makes his smirk grow, “-men to take a loan from your um-”

“Family, yakuza. Anything goes.” he supplies helpfully.

You wave him off, trying as quickly as possible to brush off the ‘yakuza’ bit that makes your stomach lurch. “And now he owes you a favor of…what exactly?”

Satoru leans across the table, t-shirt opening tantalizingly. Voice dropping to an almost-pleading murmur, “Look, I just need you to pretend to be my doting, loving, charming, gorgeous-” backtracking at your withering glare, “...Anyway. I just need a fake wife for a few months, convince my family to get off my back about arranged marriage n’ carrying the Gojo legacy. Then bam! you stomp all over my heart, we divorce and I’m too heartbroken to ever get married again. Easy.” 

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

You bet Satoru’s disappointed groan echoed across all 23 words of Tokyo, because it was definitely ringing in your ears amongst whirlwind thoughts of marriage? To a yakuza? Completely, and utterly ridiculous. And from his talks of “carrying the family name” it seemed like he was some sort of future head as well. Though, he definitely wasn’t acting like it right now. 

“Alright. Plan B, then.” 

Oh? You couldn’t help but think that maybe he wasn’t that much of a manchild as sits up from where he’d been splayed all over the table in tragedy. Lacing his fingers together before turning to your father, continuing in a more diplomatic tone, “But I want the cash you took. In full. Now. Gonna hafta disguise my best friend as my wife, n’ dresses for a six foot man aren’t cheap.”

Your mother looked like she could faint right then and there. Choking out a noise of surprise, “B-but we’ve deposited it all for the relocation- Please, can’t we pay any other-”

At the firm shake of his head, you stammer, “Now? Aren’t you some yakuza nepo baby, can’t you just ask your parents for money?”

“No.” Satoru chuckles, in a tone which told you that he probably could but might just lose his head for it. Only further supported as he muses, “Not unless I want a finger cut off for dealin’ money on the side. Seriously, sweetheart, why did you think I sent you the invitation last week?”

“Take me instead.” you father cries, trying to negotiate above Satoru’s half-joking mutters of “Ugh, I’m not into ol’ men dumb enough to sign yakuza contracts.”

It was all too much. You couldn’t take out the relocation deposit - it was a new start, possibly the only thing to save your family. Nor do you have enough in savings to pay back the loan. And if Satoru’s warning was anything to listen to, then you knew that dealing with the yakuza could be dangerous. Why you? Why you? Why you? 

“Fine.”

The moment that word leaves your lips, it’s like the whole world freezes. Everyone in the room - including yourself - unsure of whether they heard you right. “I’ll do it.” you clarify, voice hesitant but firm. Eyeing the way Satoru’s eyes begin to sparkle, the beginnings of a smile curling his lips. Raising a finger to shush your father’s protests, “But for a month, until we leave this place. After that m’going with my family and you’re never to contact us ever again. Deal?”

And oh Satoru seemed over the moon, reaching out to grasp your hand in a handshake - so warm, and softer than you’d imagined. “Swear on m’life, wifey. You can kill me if not.”

He was so intimidating - and intimidatingly exhilarating.

Only an hour more of arguing and a quick phone call later, men - yakuza, you assume - were flooding your family’s little diner. All tattooed and burly, looking somewhat comical as they carried your few packed-up suitcases outside. Well, at least they stayed for a late dinner. 

And ended up being witnesses to a very rushed, very rushed signing of marriage agreements. Evidence to really show up your alleged marriage. It barely even lasted a few minutes before, well, that was that - you were married, to the son of a yakuza head. 

You say a quick goodbye to your teary parents, soothing them with promises of “I’ll be back before you know it. One month. That’s all.” 

“And don’t worry about a thing,” Satoru sing-songs, coming up behind you. “If there’s anyone she’s safe with, it’s me.”

“You better keep your mitts off of my baby.” your father warns, raising the baseball bat still clutched in his hand menacingly. 

“I won’t lay a hand on her, father-in-law. And anyone that even thinks about it…” he cackles, breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I’ll kill.”

Prancing off to hold the door of that shiny black Mercedes parked outside open for you. “Ladies first.”

With another quick hug to your parents, you hastily make your way inside. Feeling extremely out of place amongst the overly luxurious interior in your slightly-stained work uniform. God, the covers on these cushions themselves probably cost more than your house. 

“Like the car? I can buy you one. Or four, as a wedding gift.” Satoru grins. 

Oh, right. You weren’t in here alone - you were here with your new…husband. The word felt so strange to even wrap your head around, instead you turn to meet his easy smile. Clenching your jaw as you grit out, “So how do we act m-married?”

You swear he brightens up impossibly, scooting closer to you on the seat. Heart lurching as he raises his eyes to meet yours, dizzy with the heat of his proximity, he promptly pulls out his Notes app. 

“Well, you see. I forgot to send this with the invitation so you better memorize this before we get home.” flashing you a long, long list of likes and dislikes, “Here’s my favorite color and my favorite Digimon and-”

That car ride could not have been longer. Because in addition to arguing with Satoru about who the best Digimon was, you had to fill out your own version of his overly extensive list. “So we can be foolproof.” he’d whined. And you’d been so engrossed in the process that you barely noticed the looming estate out the window.

“We’re here, young master and madam Gojo.”

It took a second to register that the driver was talking to you as well as Satoru, immediately pushing your face against the window to take in the scenic site before you. Heavy wooden doors - probably taller than an average house - opening to reveal sprawling gardens. Koi ponds and rose bushes lining a pathway that led to a traditional Japanese house - all power and glory. You half wondered whether you were still in Tokyo. 

“Home sweet home.” Satoru grunts. “Such a beautiful hell, huh?”

Your home, for the next month. At least. 

And if you had any doubt that Satoru was in fact the future yakuza head, that all went out the window at the welcome you got. Men lining the wooden hallway, bowing at the waist while your all-new husband wraps a hand around your shoulders, pointing out the various rooms and ornaments as he led you in. 

“-and this is going to be our room.” he brings you in front of a large tatami room, one the size of your entire diner. 

“Ours.” you repeat. Walking unhurriedly to the king-sized bed in the middle - the only bed. Heart pounding as you take it all in. 

“Ours.” Satoru echoes, happily. And if he was any bit as affected as you are, then he doesn’t show it, instead pulling out a blue yukata from the closet, a golden Gojo emblem stamped on the back. Made with such a pretty, delicate fabric that it made you shiver to think how much it cost. “Now, I had these made jus’ for you last week. You can give me a lil’ fashion show tomorrow, so make sure you get some rest, wifey.”

It’s only when he says the word “rest” that you realize exactly how tired you are. Your long shift and the entirety of this having your eyes feeling heavier than usual. 

“Um…” you start, risking a glance at the bed. 

Satoru jolts, “Ah- don’t worry, sweetheart. You take the bed.” beginning to saunter outside to meet his team. “Got some work, so I’ll be sleeping in my office. Dream of me~”

And, really, you almost felt bad splaying yourself out on the crisp navy sheets. Sinking into the heady smell of fabric softener, and something so so Satoru. Addictive. Like an expensive cologne that made your head spin, one that wafted through your mind as you dreamt of summer weddings, and blue, blue skies.

“Ichiji.”

“Yes, young master.”

“See to it that the madam is safe. Anyone try anything funny and you bring them back alive. I wanna be the one to play with them, okay~?”

“Of course, young master.”

---

Admittedly, you probably have the best sleep of your life at the Gojo estate- or, it would’ve been if your husband didn’t burst in every morning at 7am. Handing you a ridiculously big bouquet of white roses, straight from the garden, before dragging you outside. 

Milling about the estate, Satoru was never too far behind, chattering away. Letting you hold onto his strong arm crossing the bridges, occasionally having you show up to yakuza meetings as his plus one. Relishing in the rumors spreading all through the yakuza syndicates in Tokyo. Gojo Satoru, and the commoner wife he’d do anything for.

Weirdly enough, some strange little part of you thinks he puts in a lot more work than necessary for some pretend relationship…

“I think that stupid plan is really working, y’know.” you muse to him after a few days of this. Dipping your fingers into one of your favorite koi ponds with a nod at the figures watching you from a distance - Gojo clan elders, you assume. “Those old coots hate being within a five mile radius of me.”

Satoru huffs out a laugh, “That so? S’probably the method acting then, huh? Taking good care of me, wifey?” he wiggles his eyebrows, nudging you from where he was holding an umbrella beside you. 

Furrowing your brows mockingly, “S’funny for you to say, they don’t even look at me. But they follow me around everywhere.”

“Do they annoy you, must I do my duty as a husband and gouge their eyes out?”

He…didn’t sound like he was joking. 

Rolling your eyes, you pointedly ignoring the way your heart lurches at the word “husband.” Still so jumpy at the idea. “Speaking of, your parents give up the marriage proposals, yet?”

At this, Satoru clenches his jaw. “Still nagging, but they’re finally considering you as my actual bride rather than some hijink.” he spits out, seemingly recalling whatever conversation they’d had before. “And they want to have some family ‘dinner’, but it’s going to be awful and you don’t-”

“Let’s go.” you interrupt, nodding determinedly. “The realer this marriage seems, the faster we can divorce, no?”

He blinks at you slowly, “That’s…true. For the divorce, then?”

“For the divorce.”

And, well, that was settled - you were to meet your new in-laws. The ever-elusive heads of the Gojo clan. Also one of the most powerful yakuza in all of Japan, but, semantics really.

You spend the evening cooped up with Satoru in the library, poring over the bloody history of the yakuza - with the Gojo’s heading them all. The only time he actually leaves your side is a few hours before the dinner. 

“For you.” he’d murmured, lips ghosting your ear, slipping something cold onto your finger. You look down to see one of the most beautiful rings you’ve ever seen - gold, with delicate blue and white diamonds encrusting it, cut in the shape of roses. “Can’t be married without a wedding ring, huh? Think of it as a good luck charm for tonight.”

And with that he’s swept away in a flurry of bodyguards and ruffled men, and you’re left standing there all alone. Cheeks burning, wondering how the hell he knew your perfect fit. 

You worry longer about the dinner than you spend actually preparing for it. Though, that’s probably because of the group of stylists that come into your room to help you dress. Wordlessly fussing around you despite your weak attempts at conversation, eyes averted. Almost like they were…scared of you. 

But there wasn’t much time to think of that - not when you’re being marched off in the direction of what you remember Satoru had called the family dining room. “More like a fuckin’ meeting room for those hardasses.” he’d snarked.

The moment you step in, all eyes turn to you - the only ones you recognize being Satoru’s, who immediately stands with a smile. “Ah, wifey! Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” pulling you into a tight hug. His voice drops into a low, raspy murmur in your ear, “Ya look fuckin’ gorgeous in my colors, y’know.”

Traitorously, jolts of electricity run down your spine. Especially at how fucking gorgeous he looked in traditional wear. Whispering back, “Playing up the doting husband bit, huh?”

“Only for you.”

Pulling away, you drink in his dangerously handsome state. Hair so effortlessly styled, tattoos winking at you from just above his yukata - blue, to match yours. So pretty.

Stammering out, “Corny.”

“Only for-”

“Now that the girl is finally here, may we begin with dinner?” A stained voice sounds from behind Satoru, old and tinged with a tone that years of customer service told you did not bode well. Craning your head, you look over his broad shoulders, meeting the eyes of several disapproving elders. 

Shit. Some of the most dangerous people in this country right now. 

Gathered here - for you. 

Automatically, you knew which ones were his parents - painfully upright, and hauntingly beautiful in a cold, calculated way. Sat right at the head of the long table. With a jolt, you realize that you two are seated right opposite them. 

“So.” his mother starts, as you take your seat with a bow. Satoru doesn’t waste any time on niceties, plopping down right next to you, scooting closer than necessary. “Congratulations on the…wedding, my son.”

My son. You ignore the way both parents pointedly avoided looking at you. Your husband, however, does not. “What~ Not gonna wish my dear wife as well?”

It’s a silent staredown - one that has the entire room on edge. You don’t realize that you’re clenching your fists in tension until Satoru untangles them, slipping his larger hands into yours. Gaze still alarmingly intense and locked on the other side of the table.

He wins.

“Congratulations. Let us begin now.” 

You breathe out a sigh of relief, the tension only slightly broken as butlers stream into the room, carrying decadent trays of food. Well, at least the food might make up for how appalling this dinner is going to be.

It’s only 15 minutes in that you realize how very, horribly wrong you are - because the elders of the Gojo estate really don’t hold back, do they? Thank God you memorized every part of that stupid likes and dislikes list.

Besides picking apart every aspect of your relationship that they could manage to squeeze out of you between the appetizer and the main course, the main scrutiny tonight seems to be you. But in that icy, subtle way that has Satoru’s jaw clenching tighter each second. 

Lips curling, Gojo senior eyes you over his wine glass. “So, dear,” voice dripping with underlying venom despite the pet name. “Is it true our Satoru missed an esteemed marriage meeting with the Zenin group to ambush you at some rundown old diner?”

You fight to keep the smile plastered onto your face, painful and cracking under the pressure. A hand squeezing under the table to stop Satoru from opening his mouth to retort, you answer instead, “Well, ambushed wouldn’t be the word. You could say we fell in love over the counter - at my family’s diner.”

“A waitress, she said?”

“Now we know why it was this rushed. Probably pregnant.”

“The scandal. How far the Gojo name has fallen.”

The few stifled gasps from the other end of the table are so dramatic that you could almost laugh. But you don’t. Breath hitching as Mrs. Gojo chuckles, “Marrying the daughter of a lowly diner owner? How... quaint.”

“Mother, be quiet or-”

“What?” she throws her hands in exasperation. “Can’t I say anything around here. Honestly, Satoru, I’m just trying to make conversation with your new wife.”

Before either you or Satoru can react, his father speaks up, apparently not done with the interrogation. “You understand that we’re just worried, right, dear? Especially with marrying into prestigious families, of course.” The emphasis on “prestigious” is not lost on you.” And it drives you insane. 

Steeling yourself, you train your eyes on the untouched food below you. “I understand.”

Plowing on as if trying to infuriate you, “And you understand that this position is dangerous? You’ll be targeted.”

“I understand.”

“Do you? Don’t be swept up in our Satoru’s charm and wealth, dear, my son just wants a way out of duty.” tone dripping with disdain, Satoru’s grip becoming tighter and tighter on yours. “The Gojo syndicate owns half of this city, we could bulldoze over that little diner of yours with only one phone call”

“My wife and I are leav-”

“I said I fuckin’ understand.” Your words hang in the air like a foul stench, and you raise your head to glare. If looks could kill, all the elders in this room would be six feet under and you’d be dancing on their graves already. “Neither me, nor my husband would ever let that happen because he knows a thing or two about respect, unlike you.” Lacing your fingers tighter with Satoru’s. “So shove your mighty family up your wrinkly asses. I don’t give a flying shit.” 

Eyes wide, jaws dropped, the old couple opposite you finally seems stunned into silence. And if it was any other situation you could’ve almost laughed at how similar they looked to Satoru when he found out you thought his proposal was a prank.

His father adjusts his glasses. “Perhaps that is so.”

Ah, if only the rest of the table would be quietened just as easily. 

“Not only is she a slut she’s a-”

Thud!

It all happens so fast you’re not even sure if your eyes are playing tricks on you. Because in a split-second, the knife that was at your side is suddenly embedded, deep into the wooden table - barely even an inch away from the elder that had spoken up. 

“You’re lucky I’m matching with my wife n’ didn’t want to dirty this new yukata.” a voice sounds from your side. Melodic and so so eerie that you don’t realize for a second that it’s Satoru - your Satoru. 

He loops an arm under your legs as he stands up. Easily maneuvering you into a princess carry, forcing you to cling onto his robes for dear life as your feet dangle from the floor. You look up - maybe to snap at Satoru to put you down - only for the words to die in your throat at how absolutely fucking feral your husband looked. Eyes wide, aura menacing. A grin gracing his features, not the familiar one which had your heart racing, no - something so dangerous and cold. 

“Now,” he hums. Turning his back to the room, gaze still locked with the shocked heads inside, “My lovely wife and I will be retiring. Won’t you all say goodnight to your future madam?”

You don’t know what shocks you more - the way everyone in that room mumbles out a disdainful little “Goodnight, ma’am.”, or the way Satoru cackles as he carries you to your shared bedroom. Laying you gently on the mattress with a quiet, “Be right back, sweetheart.”

What the fuck happened?

He could’ve killed that man. And looked like he wanted to. 

Your brain yells at you - run away run away run away- But you weren’t…scared? In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever been less fearful in your entire life. Especially not when Satoru stumbles back into the room, clearly rushing. Something warm spreading in your chest at the trays of food in his hands.

“Dinner’s better without a bunch of fossils on my kill list.” he grins. Settling right next to you on the bed, setting out the dinner he’d brought for you. And, well, you didn’t doubt that they really were on his kill list. 

“Hey, wifey.” Satoru speaks up after a few moments of silence, satisfied with the food laid in front of you. “M’sorry for putting you through that. No more family dinners from now.”

You inch closer to lay your head on his sculpted shoulder, a hand bringing up the food to his pretty lips. He smelled so good, faintly like pine, and clouds. It made you so dizzy. “Eat, Satoru.”

That’s all which is said, because maybe that’s all that was needed. And for a second there, you almost forget that this is all pretend.

---

“Hey, uh- mister. You alright?” you call out, voice barely audible over the rain. 

The sullen figure didn’t react at first, soaked through and eyes trained on the ground. Unmoving, even when you hesitantly drew closer, umbrella quivering in your hands. 

You should turn around - walk away like everyone else on the sidewalk was doing. But no, something about the way he sat alone, stoic to the storm around him made you inch closer. “Here.” you hold out your umbrella. “S’our diner’s, but you look like you could use this more than I do.”

He jolts, as if hearing you for the first time. A flash of blue, so quick you almost think you miss it. Still not raising his head fully, the man’s snowy hair tousles as he jerkily closes around the handle. Pretty. And so so sad.

“It’ll be alright.” you nod. 

And with that, you turn, running back in the rain to the haven of the diner, where your father was waiting impatiently - he’d just bought the boxes to start packing up for relocation. Fingers still burning ever-so-slightly where his hand had brushed against yours. How strange, you wondered his name.

---

Satoru stayed true to his word over the weeks that followed. His parents seemed well and fully intent on avoiding you. And, well, other than a few disdainful remarks, the elders mostly scurried away in fear at your very sight. 

The only thing that made your skin prickle was that the housekeepers had a penchant for peeping in on the two of you. Increasingly following you - they always did, but now…honestly, it was a bit disconcerting. 

But other than that, it was almost…peaceful. You wake up every morning to a large bouquet of burgundy roses at your bedside table - and a husband. Because Satoru had taken to sleeping on the little couch at the corner of your room every night - saying something about not wanting to rouse suspicion because if he actually had a wife he’d be “taking her to bed every night”. Somehow, you didn’t doubt it. 

“Funny how it’s getting close to a month of being married, but you haven’t even kissed me yet.” you deadpan. Looking down at where he was resting his head in your lap, sprawled across the soft grass in the garden.

Something else also happened - something different.

Because Satoru was a bit touchier, a bit closer. Like right now, preening into your fingers carding through his soft hair. “Oh~? Why, wanna take me to bed, wifey?”

“You wish.”

“Maybe I do.”

Your hands still, pulse racing as your eyes bore into Satoru’s, trying to figure out what sort of bad joke this was. Subconsciously, you find yourself leaning down closer - too closer. Close enough that you could count every shade of blue in his hungry gaze. But by the grace of whoever was above-

“Young master, please excuse the intrusion but you have-”

Sitting up abruptly, addressing the newcomer in a stone-cold tone. “How many fuckin’ times have I not told you to never bother me when I’m with my wife?”

The servant bows apologetically, sputtering out apologies as you move to get up. Flashing a smirk at Satoru’s dramatic pout, “I have to catch up on some reading anyway. See ya, Satoru.” 

“Noo~ my sweetheart don’t leave me~” 

You stifle a laugh at his little tantrum, so different from when he was serious. He was so….dizzying. “You’ll be okay, Satoru.” Glancing up nervously to meet the servant’s intense stare, studying the scene before him, how different his master was. “I’ll be at the library now.”

And Satoru notices - of course, he does. He sees that tiny flash of concern in your eyes. One that you might not have noticed yourself. He lowers his voice as you walk away, so you don’t hear him speaking behind you. Words dripping with a similar venom he always heard from his parents, “Now, tell me who you’re spying for. Names, first and last.” 

Satoru doesn’t join you in the library that day, the first time in weeks. And you find yourself missing him more than you should. It’s dark out by the time you’re raising your head from the books, joints aching from poring over them for hours. The house seems a lot quieter. Somewhat bigger. 

Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Something was wrong. 

Scratching the back of your head, you wander through the wooden hallways to your bedroom - wondering what was amiss. Your feet take you there as if on autopilot, thankful for Satoru’s meticulous tours. 

“Hey,” you smile softly at a servant making your bed, “Where are-”

Your question dies in your throat at the way she yelps at your words, hurrying down the corridor with a jerky bow. Weird. Leaving you all alone, and confused, muttering to yourself, it’s only then that you notice the flash of red by your bedside table. 

Not a bouquet. Only a single, red rose - a note tied around the stem, something you’d never gotten before. 

“The marriage proposals have been revoked, your contract is fulfilled, my ex-wife.”

Oh, reading that hurt more than it should’ve. You should be happy at being free, a few days earlier than expected at that - but it was over - just like that. You didn’t want to leave him. You didn’t want to leave him.You didn’t want to leave him.

 Were you going insane?

Clutching the flower like a lifeline, heaving out a sigh, “Maybe Satoru knows…”

“Thinking of me?”

Startled, you whirl behind to face your husband. In the dim-lighting, making out the stoney expression on his face, eyes wide and a little duller than they had been earlier today. 

“Satoru?”

His eyes light up at the mere sound of your voice - then you’re engulfed in him. Wrapping you in his arms, bowing his body into yours, so tight that it almost hurts. But you let him, fisting the fresh yukata in your hands - and that’s when you realize, he’s changed his robes since this morning. “Are you okay?” you whisper into his shoulder. Drinking in the smell of his cologne, and something faintly metallic. 

Every cell in your body is screaming at you to take the opportunity - to run away from this yakuza and his slaughter and whatever this was. But how could you? Staying rooted to the spot, not even a speck of fear.

Satoru heaves out a heavy breath, tickling the hairs at your nape as he pulls you impossibly closer. “Those nosy elders won’t be bothering you anymore, sweetheart. You’re free to go.”

A shudder runs down your spine at his words, and you didn’t want to think too hard about what they meant. Instead, you guide him to your bed - and, surprisingly, he allows you to. Letting the two of you sink into the plush mattress. With Satoru still in your arms. He repeats, “You’re free to go.”

Run away. Run away. Run away-

There it was again - that strained little manta. You stare right into his eyes, voice thick at the sinking feeling in your stomach. “My 30 days aren’t over yet.” 

“Leave. Please.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, like your hands drawing patterns down his back had broken some dam. “M’not a good man.” 

You press your lips to his forehead, searing and a desperate attempt to soothe the man. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

“I’m yakuza, sweetheart. Doomed to follow my parents here.” he mutters, strained and voice more unsure than you’ve ever heard. And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into your skin, “I hate it here, and you should, too. All these fuckin-”

“So go with me instead.”

“What if-”

“Toru.‘ you cut off his words, slurring and spilling out of his mouth. Gently, you pry him away from his little haven, reeling back to take a good look at the face he’s been hiding for so long. Hair mussed, curtaining his whirling eyes - all disheveled and vulnerable where he was once so suave. 

Your eyes bore into his, unwavering. “It’ll be alright, Toru.”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. Only when his lips meet yours, soft, and so so sweet, do you realize that this is everything you ever want right now - possibly these past few weeks. “Y’can kill me if you don’ want his.” he mutters into your open mouth.  

It’s so desperate - a messy clash of teeth and saliva, Satoru was drinking you in like you were the last drop of water on Earth. He tasted so sweet, like candy almost, and the gentle caress of a lover. You were addicted like you could do this forever and ever and-

And then he’s pulling away. A disappointed little whine leaves you involuntarily as he parts, delicate strings of saliva snapping in the space between you two. Satoru’s mouth drops into a soft oh! at the noise, surging forward minutely like he was about to kiss you senseless again. Only to halt with a pained grunt, just a hair’s breadth from your lips. 

“M’sorry.” Claiming your lips once again, like a man possessed. Drinking in your breathless gasps. Like he never wanted to let go. “F-fuck, sweetheart. Y’don’t know how crazy you drive me.” he pants.

“Why did you pick me?” you blurt out, a question that had been nagging at the back of your mind every time Satoru slipped his hand in yours, introducing you as his loving wife. “Was it just the debt?”

He’s kissing your pulse now, canines hovering over the erratic little cadence. Breathing you in like you were intoxicating. “No.” he’s licking a long, languid stripe up your neck. Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down every inch of skin he could reach. 

“Then why?” your words come out in almost an embarrassing plea. But by the way his breath hitches, you know that Satoru loves it. 

“Because.” he breathes, “You treated me like a human.”

He’s capturing your lips with his again, nipping at your bottom lips. You squeal as he pulls, suddenly wanting him to tease you like this everywhere. To have him absolutely ruin you like you know he could - treat you like the wife he claimed you were. 

But Satoru wasn’t done yet - far from it. He chuckles, kissing down your neck, fumbling with the ties of your yukata, “Remember that night? You probably don’t, was rainin’ so hard I thought I’d drown out there.” Worshiping the valley between your breasts as he hastily unbuckles your bra. “That night was when the marriage proposals had come in. They said I’d either carry the legacy or be forced to leave the family. Kicked out of my own home.” 

And you’re reeling from both his words and the way Satoru was rocking his hips into yours now, something hot, and so achingly hard pressing in the damp area between your legs. “Thought I was gonna take ‘em all out that night.”

“Take them all out?” your breath hitches.

“Every. Single. One.” Fingers dancing across the hem of your panties. “Wouldn’t have felt bad about it either.” 

Satoru’s licking down your navel now, humming in confirmation into your skin. “But then…” he groans, taking in the first fucking sinful sight of your drenched panties. So flimsy and already dripping for him - and after just a few kisses, really? You were heaven on Earth. “But then along came you. So pretty and all worried f’me. The daughter of that diner owner I’d loaned money too.”

You watch, heart racing as Satoru swallows in awe. Darkened gaze locked on the way your slick beads out of your pussy, bare thighs trying to close - give yourself some semblance of dignity. But no- how could you? When Satoru’s holding them apart.

“And then I knew…” he’s sliding his index underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertip before popping it into his mouth. Eyes fluttering shut at the taste, and you’ve never seen him look so blissful. “I just had to have you.”

Rip! 

The cold air brushes against you before you even know it - only when you feel Satoru’s hot breath against your dripping cunt does it hit - this bastard just ripped your panties off. And he was dangling it like a badge of honor, breathing in your juices so animalistically. 

Your lips wobble as he just admires your pussy, the way it glistens and clenches around nothing. “Hah- please.”

“Please what?” he grins, and you can feel him licking little circles around your inner thigh. So close. “The wife of a yakuza boss has gotta know how to use her words.”

“You’re awful.”

“And yet you married me.”

With such a cute lil’ whine that makes Satoru’s cock twitch so painfully, you buck your hips closer to his hot mouth. “Wan’ your mouth on me, to eat me out. Please, Toru.”

He lets out a shuddering breath, “There’s my girl.”

You gasp when he surges forward, burying his pretty face nose-deep in your pussy. Holding your breath as he lazily licks up your folds - long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Swirling deftly around the sensitive nub. 

Drunk off your pussy with the way he’s so messy - seemingly unable to decide between sucking harshly on your poor, ravaged clit to dipping into your sloppy hole. And it’s driving you mad, keening and pulling at his soft locks. You haven’t been touched this good in ages, and Satoru was well and fully intent on ruining you. 

“Shhh, don’t worry, wifey.” words muffled into your cunt, “Your husband’s gonna take care of you.” He’s throwing your legs over his broad shoulders.

“Real good care of you.” Then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, the tips of his long fingers massaging your plushy walls. Messy enough that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Roaming for that one spot he knows will have you moaning deliciously. Pressing down, hard.  “Found it. Gonna have you screamin’ my name til’ the entire estate hears.”

You tug on his hair, urging Satoru’s mouth towards your cunt - partially because you wanted him there, partially because you really needed him to shut up right now. 

And shit how could he ever say no to his pretty wife?

Satoru is grinning, you can feel it on your throbbing clit as he wraps his pretty pink lips around it. Pumping his fingers in and out, hitting that little spot each and every time. Looking like he was absolutely in heaven as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your clit over and over and-

“Sh-shit. Toru-”

“Mmm, yes- fuck, love it when you call me that.” he groans. And oh he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you - eyes half-lidded, such a pretty blush disting his cheeks - and making out with your pussy just as much. Tilting his head back, back, back so that your juices slide down his throat. “Feels good? Ya like when m’ruining your pretty pussy?”

“Yes!” you squirm. Shaking, bucking your hips into his touch so desperately. “Wanted it s’bad.” 

He’s becoming frenzied now, drinking in your cute little whimpers like he was addicted. But it wasn’t enough - it never was and fuck Satoru wanted more more more-

“Move your hips, yeah- jus’ like that.” Satoru’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Letting you pull and angle him just as you please. 

“Gonna be the best fuckin’ husband you’ll ever have. N’ anyone that says otherwise, m’gonna fuckin’ kill.” The vibrations have your body jerking violently. “Make you cum harder than y’ever have. C’mon, say yes.”

And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and bullying his tongue through your swollen folds. Stretching you, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Jaw grinding deeper into you as he eats you out like his last meal. “Ngh- fuck, yes yes yes-”

“Beg for it, beg for your husband.”

“Wanna cum- Ah! Please, wanna cum, Toru.”

One hand so messy toying with your dripping entrance - not having the patience or the sanity to even draw circles anymore. Just quick, hurried patterns to get you off. The other digging into your hips, so hard you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. Making you drag your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. Using him. 

“Hngh- Toru! Ah- fuck fuck Toru Toru T-”  You’re shaking - crying out as you cum. A guttural, strangled moan of your husband’s name. So violent, and hard that you don’t even realize at first. Just that you’re rocking your hips into Satoru, white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears.

And he doesn’t stop - not even once. If you were in any better state of mind you’d wonder whether it hurt - whether his fingers were cramping up, and his tongue was tired. If they were, he didn’t show, only letting you chase your high as roughly as you want. 

Greedily lapping up all your juices. Even when you’re blinking your vision back, chest heaving as you try to regain our breath. “S-Satoru.” you mewl, stars behind your eyes with each flick of his tongue. 

“Jus’ a bit more. Wanna taste all of you.”

You weren’t going to make it out alive.

Big, fat tears pricking at your eyes from the overstimulation as Satoru finally rises from what you almost worried would be his favorite seat. “All done. Now, keep that pretty lil’ cunt on display f’me, my girl.”

And your cunt is clenching in- fear? Anticipation? As your husband finally unties his yukata, letting it slide off those milky, toned shoulders. And shit he was such a fucking masterpiece. The dim-lighting bouncing off every curve and dip of those carved abs. Delicate swirls of his tattoo inching from his collarbone, down, down, down, hugging Satoru in a way that made you so half-lucidly jealous. All the way till the last inky thorn meets the neat tufts of white hair peeking up from the hem of his underwear. 

“Touch me.” he groans into your ear. The words barely leave those pretty lips before your hands are everywhere. Dancing down his tattoo, groping at this pecs - too much to worship, not enough time. 

“Toru…” you trail off, hand reaching out to brush his waistband. Tugging just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, fat tip weeping down his length, already so soaked in precum. He was so intimidatingly long - longer than anyone else you’d had before. Thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself. 

And he sees right through you.

“Now now, none of that.” he tuts, pushing your bare thighs as far apart as they’d go. He spreads your cunt so shamefully with his thumb. Spitting once, twice. Some of it splatter against your thigh as Satoru mixes his saliva with your slick. “Don’t worry, wifey, m’gonna make it feel good for ya.”

You flinch as he uses you like some object. Dangerously liking it more and more as he drags his fat head down your folds. Wetting himself, all the preparation he was going to give you because fuck Satoru needed to be inside your pretty lil’ pussy right now. 

Then you feel like you’re being split apart - as if Satoru’s cock was pushing all the way to your lungs as he presses through the first ring of muscle.

“Ah! Ngh- Toru, s’too big!” you yelp, eyes locked on the way your lips were stretched so lewdly around his tip. Clamping and quivering as he keeps pushing in, inch by fucking inch. No mercy. Absolutely none at all. 

And while he sounded like he was on cloud nine, you were having your head spin, torn between wanting to run away from his massive cock and just push yourself down for more more more. His lips claim yours - absolutely animalistic because God he needed to shut up your pretty whines or else Satoru was going to cum right here right now.

“Breathe, sweetheart, breath. Ngh- You can take it.” Satoru pants into your mouth, fucking into you in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to fit inside your snug cunt. Sounding like he was losing his sanity each time your heavenly walls milked him. “So fuckin’ tight. Jus’ relax f’me. Oh yeah, jus’ like that. You can take it you can-”

You gasp for air when he finally bottoms out inside you, tears streaming down your face and clawing at his back. 

Satoru only coos, letting you mark him up all you want. Pace increasing relentlessly, “Aww, my good lil’ wife. Taking me so well, huh?” Starting to rock his hips just a bit faster into yours, “Always knew y’would.” 

“Can y’feel me, right-.” Balls smacking against your ass, his finger tracing an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “-here?” Thumb stroking where he could feel himself bulging inside you, pressing down. Hard. 

You almost sob at the pressure, jolting - you should’ve expected that the yakuza boss would fuck so mean.

And shit you can just do nothing but take it, hips jerking wildly as Satoru pounds into you with reckless abandon. Clutching at his shoulders, the sheets, his hair - just anything. 

“C’mon~ Don’t run away from me,” he grunts, strained like he’s struggling to maintain restraint. Lacing his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper onto his cock. “Jus’ fuckin’ got you, so don’t you dare run away.”

You can only nod. Eyes glazed, cockdrunk and letting him thrust so sloppily. “Won’t run away Toru…” you babble, “Wan’ you to make me yours.”

“Mine? Gonna be all mine?”

“All yours, Toru.”

And maybe you were an idiot, maybe you were a mastermind - because with a choked out little moan of what sounded like your name, Satoru’s pulling you both to sit up. The gravity makes you bury his cock deeper and faster into your tight pussy.

With the new angle, your husband’s hitting all the right spots easily, almost as if he knew your body better than you did. Veins rubbing so deliciously against your walls, shifting around your hips to fuck up into that poor, abused spot. 

“Ya like this, huh?” he groans, fingers now toying with your ravaged clit. Rolling it around harshly between two fingers. “Always knew this cute pussy could take me s’well. Just didn’t know it would feel this fucking heavenly.”

Faster, sloppier. Bouncing you on his rock-hard cock  like he was claiming you from the inside. So, so desperate and debauched.

And exactly where you wanted to be. 

You leave delicate pink bites down this pale neck, alongside those roses - marking him in your own way as you edge closer and closer. It was too much. Everything was too much. 

“Toru-” you sob. And he already knew what that meant. With how your voice breaks so adorably and the way you’re clenching around him hard enough that it’s almost difficult to ruin that cute pussy. 

“Close?” 

“Mhm…”

“Well then.” thrusts getting sloppy, with no reason or rhythm now. Grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Cum f’me like a good lil’ wife, then.”

And that makes you throw your head back in ecstasy - it makes you cum. Thighs quivering, jolts of electricity running down all the way from your overstimulated cunt to your hazy mind. It has you chanting Satoru’s name like a lifeline while his teeth dig into your flesh. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood.

Letting out low, muffled moans into your neck while he cums as well. Hot ropes of seed filling up your poor, bloated pussy, painting your walls such a sinful white. Cumming and cumming so hard you wondered whether you’d make it out alive.

And because of the obscene position, you could feel the way it dribbled down your legs. Thick globs landing in a pool on the overpriced sheets below, smearing so lewdly between you two. Hips still fucking up into you - not even thinking about it as he pushes his seed deeper and deeper. 

You managed to raise your eyes, still dazed to meet his - exhausted, and dark with lust and something else that you really weren’t in the right mind to decipher right now. 

And then Satoru’s lips find yours again, biting and tugging lazily. Tasting so unfairly of candy and sweet, sweet trouble. Body melting into you like all the worries have been lifted from his shoulders. He’s looping his arms tighter around your waist, crushing you into an almost-painful hug against him. 

Something soft. Something new. Something that makes a little part of your heart twinge to break the kiss and pull away mere millimeters. “We better not divorce after this.”

“Of course not.” He chuckles into your lips, resting his forehead against yours like he was trying to map the constellations in your eyes. “I haven’t even given you my wedding gift yet.”

Smirking, you lock your legs tighter around Satoru’s toned waist as he lets the two of you fall back into the mattress. Sinking into it - and each other - with both exhaustion and something of a quiet, unspoken little fondness. Batting your lashes up at him, “Mhm, I remember someone talking about giving me four mercedes as a wedding gift and I’m leaving if not.”

“Well then, better get to it. Four for my in-laws to get on their good side, too,” he nuzzles the bite mark on your neck. “Because I plan to stay like this for a long, long time.”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[veritasangel]

༊*·˚ I Wanna Be Down

Ft. Sukuna, Geto & Gojo, Choso, Nanami

sum: how they react when you send them a sexually explicit photo/video.

warnings! fempov, inappropriate pics/vids, piv (unprotected in nanami's), creampie, mutual masturbation, phone sex, fingering, oral (receiving/giving), perv choso, geto shares with gojo, age gap (legal) in sukuna's & nanami's

wc: 9.3k (sorry!) - masterlist

a/n: got carried away with writing nanami's, kinda wanna make his a proper series.

୨୧ Suguru Geto & Satoru Gojo - boyfriend & his best friend

Suguru was right in the middle of fixing up a car when he got a video from you. He didn't know what he had expected, but it certainly wasn't you riding a dildo, moaning his name. He watched the way you bounced up and down, the sounds you made as your body trembled.

His cock was instantly hard. But you know he's busy and that he can't come back to fuck some sense into you, hell, it's probably why you did it. So instead, he opts to find a solution.

He pulls out his phone and then types a message to Satoru.

Go to my apartment, she's all yours 1 attachment

Satoru needs little to no persuasion and quickly turns up at your place using that spare key he never returned and heading straight up to your bedroom.

He smiles when he sees you, an eyebrow raised. "Well, well, well. Looks like someone's been having some fun without me," he says, closing the door behind him and walking towards the bed. He's already hard, his cock straining against his pants.

He sits on the edge of the bed, reaching over to pull the duvet down. "Now, now, don't be shy. Sugs sent me over to take care of you, and I always do what he asks." His voice is low and smooth, his blue eyes shining in the light.

He inches closer, his hand dipping under the blankets to grasp your thigh. "Besides, I know how much you love my cock. And I've been dying to get my hands on you again." He smirks.

You roll your eyes, acting annoyed. "Wanted my boyfriend, not his little puppy."

Satoru snorts, still smiling. "Oh, you're such a tease, brat. I'm not his puppy." Closer, he leans in, and his lips whisper in your ear, "Besides, he's trusting me to look after you, so show me what you've been doing."

He pulls back, but his hand doesn't leave your thigh. "Shall we get started then without him? Or perhaps I should call him now?" There is something teasing in the way Satoru sounds as he begins sliding up your inner thigh.

✧. ┊    

The phone in Suguru's pocket vibrates; Satoru's call lights up the screen. He picks it up and connects his earphones before setting it down on the workbench.

"Hey, Sug. I'm here with her," Satoru's voice comes through the line, followed by rustling fabric. "She's being a little brat, saying she wanted you, not me."

He can hear you huffing in the background. He chuckles, shaking his head. "Well, you know how to handle her, don't you?"

Suguru's eyes fall back on the car as his mind strays to the sounds through the phone. He can almost see Satoru's hands on your body, his cock hard and ready for you, like he always is. The way he'd tease you, how you'd plead, how Satoru would whine—lost in his own pleasure.

"Well, then, make sure she's satisfied, because I can't join." Suguru says, his voice low and husky with desire. Satoru puts the phone to the side on loud speaker as he leans in to kiss you.

Suguru's cock throbs in his pants at the sound of you and Satoru through the phone. He could hear sounds of the kissing, rustling of fabric as the clothes are removed, he imagines Satoru touching all over your body, his lips trailing down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin.

"Fuck, Satoru," he groans, not being able to get himself off at the moment. Nobody else is at the workshop but he's not taking that risk, so he just listens as he works. "Don't keep her waiting," Suguru says into the phone, his voice low.

Satoru slides his hand between your legs, and he grins, feeling your wetness. His fingers slide into you, and you gasp and arch your back. He looks at the phone. "She's so wet and ready for me, Suguru. I think she's been missing your cock, huh?" Satoru's voice dripped with lust as his fingers pumped in and out of you.

"You're going to have to make do with mine, though." Satoru grins down at you as he lays down on the bed, kissing up your thighs before diving into your pussy.

Suguru can hear the moans and whimpers that came from you, and his stomach was hard in his pants. He is relieved Satoru was taking care of you, but he couldn't help the thought of wanting to be the one to fill you up.

"I'll make sure she's satisfied, Suguru," Satoru vows, his voice husky with desire. "Might even start preferring me to you."

"Never." you say, lightly smacking Satoru.

Satoru chuckled, a smile on his face as he went back to eating you out. "Oh, yeah? We'll see about that." He said, his tongue flicking against your clit.

Suguru's smirk at your denial is proud. He absolutely loves how loyal you are to him, even though you're here with Satoru. He would make it up to you when he gets home and show you just how much better he is.

Satoru's tongue swirls around your clit, sucking and licking, and you squirm and moan at the sensations. "Mmm, you taste so good. Bet Suguru's jealous as hell right now," Satoru purrs, his breath hot on your sensitive flesh.

He pulls back, his chin glistening with your juices, "Hey, Sug, listen to this pretty pussy—all wet and ready for me."

Satoru dives back in, his tongue going deep inside of you as his nose presses against your clit.

Suguru groans at the sound, his cock throbbing painfully in his pants. "That video you sent was so fucking hot. Seeing you on that dildo, fuck, it made me so bloody hard. It's not fair to send it when I can't come see you though, is it?" says Suguru in a low tone.

He could hear the muffled moans from Satoru as he ate you out, the wet sounds of his tongue sliding through your folds. Suguru's cock twitched at the idea of joining you two, burying himself deep inside you.

"Make her cum, Satoru," he demanded, the harshness in his voice spiking with desire. "I want to hear her scream for you."

Knowing that, Satoru tries even a bit harder now. His tongue lashed on your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you. He could feel you clenching around him, tensing up, your orgasm nearing. Satoru swipes his tongue along your folds as his fingers glide in and out to hit that spot inside you.

Your orgasm was building, tension welling in your body. Satoru's lips were on your clit, sucking hard as his tongue flicked against it. Your hips bucked off the bed as your moans grew louder, more desperate. Satoru's hands had to hold you down to stop you squirming away.

"Sugs- I think I'm going to have to keep her for myself," Satoru teases, his voice thick with lust as his tongue moves through your folds.

Satoru's tongue doesn't stop. His fingers are back, pumping in and out of you, while his lips suck on your clit. You can feel yourself getting close.

"Come on, baby," Satoru presses, his voice muffled against your pussy. "Cum for me. I want to taste you. Let him hear how good I am."

Suguru groaned at the sound of you, close to your climax. "That's it, baby. Cum for him. Let me hear you."

He sucked hard on your clit, fingers curling inside, and that was enough. Waves of your orgasm crashed over you from head to toe. Your body shook as you cried out in pleasure.

Satoru licks up your juices as his tongue swirls over your clit while you come. He backs up a bit, looking down at you with a grin on his face, his face slick from your cum. "I could eat this pretty pussy all day," he moans, his voice laden with lust.

Suguru chuckled, shaking his head. "I bet you could, you little insatiable bastard. But she needs your cock now, don't you think?" He can hear you whimpering, your body still trembling from your orgasm.

Suguru's cock throbs with every pulsation at the thought, pissed he can't be there to see you.

Satoru smirked as he hurriedly undressed. He reached for his wallet and pulled the the condom out and tore it open, rolling it down his hard length.

"Beg for it." he murmurs, his voice suddenly deep and husky. "Beg me to fuck you."

Suguru groans at the sound, his cock throbbing in his pants. "Tell him what you want, baby."

"As if I'd beg you, pretty boy," you tease, since you know the nickname drives him mad.

Satoru smirks at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, so that's how it is," he says in a pulled-away breath, "I don't know how he deals with you."

Suguru's lips curled at the edges and he chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, I handle her just fine. She just likes to be a little difficult." He could hear you huffing in annoyance, though he knew you were just teasing. "Come on, baby," Suguru soothed, his voice low, seductive. "I know you want him. I can hear it in your voice."

Satoru grins and leans down, lips brushing against yours as his tongue slides into your mouth, his cock grinding against you in a torturous tease of what you could possibly have.

"Just say please," Satoru purrs against your lips. "A nice pretty please and I'll let you have it."

"I'm not going to say-"

His hand comes up to grab a fistful of your hair, tugging ever so slightly as Satoru demands in a low voice, "Say it.".

You narrowed your eyes at him, though you couldn't deny the burn that now lay in them. "Ugh fine-" you sighed, "Please, toru? Please can you fuck me?" you asked with a scowl, though the lust behind your eyes showed differently.

Satoru grins, his eyes dark with hunger, as he positions his cock at your entrance. He doesn't hold back, too desperate to feel you. In one powerful motion, he stuffs you full, to which you gasp and arch off the bed as he bottoms out inside you.

"Good girl," he praises low and possessively, drawing back to let his cock slide from you only to plunge into you once more.

Satoru's thrusts, deep and powerful, his cock stretching you wide open, filling you in a way that the dildo couldn't. He began to set a punishing rhythm, pulling out almost all the way before he slammed back into you again.

The way he fills you is intoxicating—every slap of his balls against your ass, every growl of your name, holding onto your hips and trying to keep control.

A shiver runs down your spine with each thrust. He changes the angle again to repeatedly hit that sweet spot, which makes you moan loud enough for Suguru to hear. He's big and being filled up to this degree is breath-taking.

Suguru groans at the sound of your moans. His cock in his pants throbs. "Fuck-," he says, his voice hoarse with desire. "Love hearing you moan like that for him."

Satoru grins back, his hips smacking up against yours. "That's it, baby. Let him hear exactly what he's missing." He bends down lower, his teeth raking at your neck, biting hard enough to leave a mark that he know Suguru will love and hate at the same time.

You moan, your nails digging into his back, encouraging him on. Satoru's cock brushes against all of those spots inside you, and it feels heavenly. It's not quite like anything else, full, stretched in a way that seems to ache, but in a good way. Of course, nothing like your boyfriend but you can't deny he's good at what he does.

Suguru breathes heavily, having forgotten about the car he's working on, just focusing on the phone. "You're such a good girl, taking his cock so well," he praises in a thick voice. "I can't wait to get back, to feel you wrapped around me."

Satoru chuckles as his thrusts grow harder, faster. "Well, you're going to have to wait your turn- I'm not done with her yet." He starts slowing his thrusts as he feels his pleasure rising and his cock twitching inside you. "Fuck, baby. You're gonna make me come," he grunts. His voice is thick with desire as his whines fill the room because his cock is so sensitive at every movement of your walls.

Suguru's voice in his seductive, low tone as he praises you over the phone, "That's it. Such a good girl. You're doing so well, taking his cock like that. I'll reward you later."

Satoru's thrusts speed up, his grip on your waist getting tighter as he chases his release. "You're so lucky I put a condom on, Sug." he growled, his cock throbbing inside you. "Jus' wan' fill this pretty pussy up." he groans, biting down on your shoulder.

Satoru's orgasm was close, he could feel it, the tension rising with every thrust. Your own approaching even quicker, encouraged by his moans and Suguru's sweet praise.

Satoru's thrusts become more insistent, his hips jerking forward into yours with a fierce, almost animalistic energy. His cock pulses inside, the head most surely swelling in preparation to burst. "Fuck, Sug, I'm close," Satoru growled in his tightened voice of lust.

His thrusts become falter, as his movements become sloppier. "Cum for me, baby," Satoru groans, his voice so low and hungry. "Wanna hear you moan my name."

Your orgasm crashes down, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. Your pussy clenches around Satoru's cock, milking him for all he's worth. "Fuck Toru!" you let out a cry of his name, your body arching off the bed at hitting that peak.

"Fuuck-" he whines, his cock throbbing as he follows you over the edge. His hips stutter, cock pulsing with his cum as it fills the condom. He collapses on top of you, energy vibrating through his frame from the release.

"God, you feel so good," Satoru pants, pushing his forehead against yours as he comes down from his high. He stays inside you, savouring the aftershocks.

Suguru doesn't hang up, still on the line and hearing your pleasure sounds as his own cock throbs torturously in his pants. "Such a good girl."

Satoru slowly pulls out, slipping the condom off his cock with a wet pop. He disposes of it and then climbs back onto the bed, lying beside you as he pulls you into his embrace.

Suguru's voice is tender, his praise soft and gentled in your ear. "You did good, sweetheart."

Satoru chuckles, nuzzling your neck. "I can sweet talk her, don't worry." he teases, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

Suguru laughs, shaking his head. "I'm sure you can, toru. But I want to hear her voice, know she's okay."

You smile, your voice soft and sleepy, as you reply, "I'm okay, Sug. More than okay. Toru was great. I'm just sleepy now and I miss you." you yawn.

Suguru chuckled, his voice was warm and affectionate. "I bet you do, baby. Why don't you catch a nice nap with Satoru, and I'll wake you guys up once I get back?"

You murmur your agreement, feeling your eyes grow heavy already.

Satoru kisses the top of your head, then pulls you closer. "Don't work too hard, I'll look after her." Satoru reassures Suguru as he ends the call, his eyes closing as he leans into you.

୨୧ Kento Nanami - dad's best friend

Nanami's eyes widened as he stared at the picture you sent him earlier, depicting you in lingerie. His heart raced, his pulse quickened, and his breathing grew shallow. The image of you in that revealing outfit played in his mind, leaving him aching for more.

He knew it was wrong to entertain such thoughts, especially when you were his best friend's daughter. But the temptation was too great to ignore. The line had blurred, and Nanami found himself craving the warmth of your body and the feel of your touch.

A sense of guilt plagued him, but he couldn't help but appreciate the beauty you exuded. The thought of you wearing such lingerie for him sent a thrill down his spine, and he found himself powerless to resist.

With a heavy heart, he responded to your message, inviting you to his house. He knew he was opening a Pandora's box, but he couldn't bring himself to deny the desires that consumed him. Nanami steeled himself, preparing for the consequences that would inevitably follow.

His heart raced as he heard the knock on his door, and he took a deep breath to steady his nerves. He knew this was a path he shouldn't have taken, but the allure of being with you was too strong to resist.

He opened the door, his gaze immediately drawn to you. You looked even more stunning in person, wearing a pretty dress that hugged your curves in all the right places. Nanami's eyes lingered on you for a moment before he cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure.

"Please, do come in," he said, moving aside to grant you entry. His heart was pounding while you moved past him; the smell of your perfume invaded his nostrils.

Nanami couldn't help but be struck by your beauty. You looked beautiful in your dress, your hair was stunning and in your eyes, something mischievous gleamed. He knew he was playing with fire, but the temptation was too great to resist.

He brushed against you, making contact that sent jolts of electricity through his body. He had to fight the urge to pull you closer. "I'm glad you could make it," he said, his voice low and husky. "I've been looking forward to seeing you all day."

He reached out and brushed some hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek. The touch was electric, and Nanami felt a surge of desire course through him. He knew he should stop, but he couldn't bring himself to pull away—not when you were so close, so tantalizing.

"I heard the business deal was a success, my Dad told me." you say

Nanami's eyes widened slightly at the mention of your father, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. He knew he was treading on dangerous ground, engaging in a forbidden relationship with his best friend's daughter. But the temptation was too great to resist.

He stepped closer to you, his hand finding its way to your waist. "Yes, the deal went well," he said, his voice low and husky. "But I must admit, my thoughts have been... elsewhere today."

His gaze drifted over your body, taking in every curve and contour. Nanami felt a surge of desire, a need to touch you, to feel your skin against his.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "I've been thinking about you," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. "About the picture you sent me. About the way you look in that lingerie."

His hand slid lower, cupping your ass and pulling you against him. He could feel the heat of your body, the way your breasts pressed against his chest. Nanami knew he was crossing a line, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Not when you were so close, so willing.

"You shouldn't send pictures like that to someone like me." Nanami says lowly as his eyes meet yours.

"Why not?"

Nanami's grip on your waist tightened as he pulled you closer, the heat between you becoming almost unbearable. "Because I'm far too tempted to act on it," he said, his voice thick with desire. "I'm a man, and you're a beautiful woman. Mix that in with the fact that you're the daughter of my best friend. It's a recipe for disaster."

He felt his heart pound, his body begging for more. Nanami knew it was wrong. He knew this would tear apart his friendship, nothing he could do would heal the damage it'd cause.

Yet, in your eyes, he saw the very same need staring back. A fight he knew he had no hope of winning but couldn't help himself from fighting. "I shouldn't have invited you here," he whispered, lips caressing your earlobe. "But I can't seem to resist the pull."

Though his words said it, Nanami couldn't bring himself to let go of you. His hand was still cupping your ass, holding you close with his body, while the other brushed strands of hair from your face. His heart was at a torn junction of what he knew was right and what his body was crying out for.

You give in, leaning forward to kiss him. The touch of your lips to his sent shivers down Nanami's back as it became electric. The kiss was passionate, hungry, full of the desire that had been building between the two of us. Nanami's hands tightened on your waist, drawing you in closer as he deepened the kiss.

The guilt and reservations he had moments before vanished, replaced by the primal need to be with you. His heart raced, and his thoughts became a jumble of lust and longing.

Despite the knowledge of the consequences, Nanami couldn't bring himself to push you away. The pull between the two of you was too strong, and the desire too great. For now, he would allow himself to indulge in the forbidden, to savour the moment before the harsh reality of their situation came crashing down.

Nanami's breath caught in his throat as he pulled back from the kiss, his eyes dark with desire. "That picture you sent me," he said, his voice low and husky. "It was the most erotic thing I've ever seen. The way the lingerie clung to you, the colour against your skin... it was like a dream come true."

He reached out, his fingers trailing down your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "I couldn't stop thinking about it. About you." his hands roam.

"How many college boys got that same picture, huh?" he said darkly.

You chuckled slightly, hearing the dangerous undertone in his words. You shake your head, looking up at him, "None."

Nanami's eyes widened, and he couldn't help but feel a surge of possessiveness. "Is that so?" he repeated, his voice thick with lust. "No one else has the privilege of seeing you like this, huh? Just me?"

He pulled you closer, his hand cupping the back of your head as he deepened the kiss. The thought of you being all his, of having this secret between the two of them, sent a thrill down his spine. Nanami knew this was wrong, that he was betraying your father's trust, but the allure of being with you, of having this forbidden connection, was too great to resist.

His hand slid up your back, reaching for the zipper of your dress. "I want to see more," he whispered against your lips, his breath hot and heavy. "I want to see everything."

Nanami's heart pounded in his chest, his body aching for you. He knew he was crossing a line, but the desire was too strong, the temptation too great. For now, he would allow himself to indulge in the forbidden, to savour the moment.

Nanami's fingers fumbled with the zipper, his heart racing as he waited for your response. He looked into your eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation or doubt. If you gave him the go-ahead, he would take you straight to his bed, unable to resist the pull any longer.

His body ached for yours, and as he stared into your eyes, he saw the same desire reflected back. Nanami knew he was walking a dangerous path, but in that moment, all he could think about was being with you, of feeling your body pressed against his, of losing himself in the pleasure that awaited.

"Please-" you whispered softly.

Nanami's breath caught in his throat as you whispered your plea, and he couldn't resist any longer. His fingers finally pulled the zipper down, revealing your lingerie-clad body. Nanami's eyes widened as he took in the sight, his desire for you growing even more intense.

He pulled you closer, his lips finding yours once more as his hands roamed over your body. His fingers traced the outline of the material, the lace against your skin. Nanami's heart pounded in his chest, his body aching for more.

He lifted you into his arms bridal style and carried you towards his bedroom. The weight of your body in his arms, the feel of your soft skin against his, was intoxicating.

Once in the bedroom, he laid you gently on the bed, his gaze never leaving yours. Nanami leaned in, his lips brushing against your collarbone, making their way down to your breasts. He lowered the fabric slightly, but didn’t remove it. He took a nipple into his mouth, sucking gently as his hand caressed the soft flesh of your thigh.

Nanami's hands roamed more, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties. He could feel the heat of your core, the wetness that awaited him. His heart raced as he explored your body, his touch becoming more urgent with each passing moment. He knew he was crossing a line, but the temptation too great.

Nanami's voice was thick with lust as he whispered into your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "So fucking pretty, sweetheart," he murmured, his fingers dipping into your panties, teasing your clit. "You shouldn't be here, you should be a good girl and stay away from me."

His other hand cupped your breast, squeezing gently as he leaned down to take your nipple into his mouth once more. "But you're not a good girl, are you?" he asked, his voice dark and seductive. "You're here, and you want this just as much as I do."

Nanami's fingers continued to tease, his touch becoming more insistent as he sought to drive you wild. 

"Can you stop teasing me, jus' wanna get fucked by you." you whine, squirming slightly under his touch.

Nanami's hand slid down to your panties, his fingers teasing your clit through the damp fabric. "You want me to fuck you?" he asked, his voice low and husky. "You want me to slide my cock deep inside you and make you scream my name?"

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "I want to fuck you so deep, that you'll never forget this moment. That you'll crave me every time you close your eyes. I want to take it slow, to savour it."

Nanami's fingers slipped beneath your panties, teasing your entrance. "But not tonight... I can't spend too much time," he said, his voice filled with regret. "I have a celebratory dinner with your father later tonight, and I can't be late."

He pulled back, his eyes dark with desire as he looked down at you. "So, I'm going to have to make this quicker than I’d like," he said, his voice thick with lust. "But I'll make it up to you, I swear."

He quickly unbuckled his pants, freeing his hard cock. Nanami stroked himself a few times, his eyes never leaving your body. "You're so fucking beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

Nanami watched as you lowered your panties and began to finger yourself, his eyes darkened with lust. The sight of you touching yourself, preparing for him, was almost too much to bear.

He settled between your legs, his cock pressing against your entrance. Nanami leaned down, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as he slowly pushed inside you. The feeling of your tight heat enveloping him was almost too much to bear, and he had to stop for a moment, savouring the sensation.

Nanami began to move, his thrusts slow and deep as he sought to bring you both to the brink of ecstasy. He knew he wouldn't last long, not with the way your body felt around him, but he wanted to make sure you came first.

Nanami's hips rocked forward, his cock sliding deep inside you. He began to set a rhythm, his thrusts slow and deep, seeking to fill you completely. His grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he moved inside you.

He leaned down, his lips finding your neck as he began to suck and bite at the sensitive skin. "You feel so fucking good," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "So tight, so perfect. I could stay inside you forever."

Nanami's thrusts became more urgent, his hips snapping against yours as he drove himself deeper inside you. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mixing with your moans and his grunts of pleasure.Nanami's thrusts were desperate, his body trembling with the effort to hold back. 

Even as Nanami's movements became more urgent, he remained tender with you. His fingers caressed your hips, his grip firm but gentle. "That picture you sent me," he panted, his breath hot against your skin. "It turned me on like nothing else. I want more, sweetheart. I want to see you like that, all for me."

His hips began to move in a frenzy, his cock sliding in and out of you with rapid, powerful strokes. "I want to see you wearing nothing but lace, your body on display for me," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "Just f'me, yeah?"

Nanami's grip on your hips tightened, his body tensing as he fought to hold back his release. "Want you to be mine" he whispered, his voice filled with determination. "I want you, and I'll make sure you're taken care of, that you never want for anything."

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss as he drove himself deep inside you. Nanami's fingers found your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in circles as he continued to thrust inside you. His lips found your neck, sucking and biting at the delicate skin as he sought to drive you wild with pleasure.

"Need you so fucking bad, I don't care." he says. His fingers moved faster, his touch becoming more insistent as he sought to bring you to the edge of ecstasy. His hips snapped against yours, his cock sliding deep inside you with each powerful thrust.

Nanami's breath hitched in his throat as he felt you tighten around him, the signs of your impending orgasm clear. He increased the pace of his fingers on your clit, his lips finding yours once more as he continued to thrust.

His own release was close, his body tensing with the effort to hold back. "Come for me, baby," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "I want to feel you clench around my cock."

Nanami's thrusts became more urgent, his body trembling with the force of his desire. He could feel his own climax building, the pressure in his balls growing more intense with every passing moment.

As you reached your peak, Nanami couldn't hold back any longer. With a guttural groan, he slammed into you one last time, his cock pulsing deep inside your body as he came. His release spilled into you, the warmth of his seed filling you as he held you close, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm.

Nanami's breathing became heavy, his body still pressed against yours as he tried to catch his breath. He leaned down, his lips finding yours in a tender kiss. "That was amazing," he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction. "You're amazing."

Nanami's fingers traced patterns on your skin, his touch gentle and soothing as he held you close. He knew he should pull out, should clean up and get ready for his dinner with your father, but he couldn't bring himself to move just yet. He wanted to stay like this, with you in his arms, for just a little longer.

Nanami's hips continued to slowly rock against yours, his cock sliding in and out of your sensitive body as he savoured the afterglow. He could feel his release leaking out of you, the warmth of it coating his still-hard shaft.

Nanami's eyes fluttered closed as you kissed his forehead, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He appreciated the gentle touch as you brushed the sweat-slicked hair back from his face.

Eventually he began to pull out of you, his movements slow and careful. He couldn't help but feel a pang of regret as he disconnected from your body, the sensation of being inside you fading away.

Nanami leaned back, his eyes meeting yours as he pulled away from your body. "Your father won't be coming back here after the dinner," he said, his voice low and husky. "So, you can stay here, take a shower, order some food, and settle into my bed if you'd like."

He reached for a towel, gently wiping your thighs. "I'll leave you some money for the food," he added, his voice filled with a sense of protectiveness. "You can stay here as long as you want."

Nanami's eyes held yours, the desire still there, but tempered by a newfound sense of care.

He stood up, his movements smooth and graceful. "I'll get dressed and leave you to it," he said, his voice filled with a sense of reluctance. "Make yourself at home. I'll see you when I get back."

୨୧ Choso Kamo - roommate

Choso laid across the couch, scrolling his phone, as a video message popped up in his notifications. He opened it, expecting a stupid video from his friends, but the preview threw him off.

It was a video of you, his roommate, and you were doing things that made his mouth go dry. He watched, riveted, as you slipped your fingers into your panties, biting your lip as you began touching yourself.

Choso knew he should stop watching, you would've sent that by accident, he should be a good friend and delete it. But he was too captivated—so it seemed—in seeing you play with yourself as the soft moans coming from your mouth filled his ears.

Choso's eyes widened, and his heart raced as he watched the video. He just couldn't believe what he was seeing. His cock began to harden; the veins became more pronounced by the second.

The way your body moved, your chest heaving up and down with every breath, your face flushed with such desire. It was impossible not to watch. He palmed his hardening cock through his pants, trying to ignore the ache building inside him. But as your moans grew stronger and your fingers moved faster, Choso couldn't hold back anymore.

He quickly stood up and headed straight for your bedroom. He knew that he shouldn't be in here, but he just couldn't help it, he wanted to be in your presence, near you. He walked in, eyes looking around everywhere, to the bed, to the dresser, to the closet. He could smell the room, your scent, and it only made him harder.

His eyes had locked on the laundry basket in the corner of the room. He walked to it, his cock aching with anticipation. It was too late and he couldn't stop now.

He had to dig his hands into the basket of clothes until he found the material he was looking for. Grasping a pair of your panties, he held them up to his face and inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent — your scent. It was heady, and he was even harder because of it.

He pulled the panties up to his mouth, unable to stop himself from licking along the damp patch. He could taste your essence, and it was so sweet—the most delicious thing in the world to him. He even let out a moan, his desire unrestrained.

He was too far gone. He needed to cum, had to release all this pent-up tension. It's your fault, you should have been more careful with those messages.

Choso laid down on your bed, feeling the softness of the mattress around him, satisfied in knowing that you sleep here every night. He adjusted himself, his cock starting to strain against his sweats. He reached into his pants and pulled his cock free. He ran his hand over it, feeling the precum dripping off the tip.

Now holding your panties in his free hand, he rubbed them over the precum on his finger and stroked himself with that too.

The image of you in the video blared in his mind again and again as he stroked himself to the memory of your moaning. The video, your smell from the panties, the thought of you being on this bed just proved to be too much for Choso. 

His free hand reached to his phone to turn the video on once more, and there you were, just the vision of your fingers buried deep in your pussy made him shiver. 

He pretended it was his fingers inside, that he could have his mouth on you, taste you for real.

He closed his eyes and imagined you were there beside him, your hands on his body, your lips against his skin. He ground his hips up into his open hand, visioning you riding him, your tits bouncing with each thrust. He'd wanted to bury his face in them, fuck you until you screamed his name.

Choso dropped the phone, noises of your moans still blaring within. He gripped at the bed sheets, using his fingers to drive down into the fabric. He could smell you in the fabric, making him even harder. He pressed his hips up, his cock brushing along his hand, and released a low moan as he felt his eyes roll back in his head at just how close he was getting to the edge.

He heard jingling keys and the front door opening. He knew that definitely meant you were home, but he just couldn't stop himself from what he was doing. He gripped at the bedsheets and stroked himself faster, his hips thrusting upwards. He could hear you in the living room now, closer now in your footsteps.

He knew he should stop, that he should hide what he was doing, but he didn't want to.

Choso's eyes locked onto yours as his breath got caught in his throat. He knows he should feel embarrassed, ashamed even, but he doesn't. Rather, he feels exhilaration at the rush of adrenaline that flares, having been caught.

He didn't stop touching himself; his hand was moving up and down his shaft. He could feel your eyes on him, but he didn't care. All he was able to focus on was the pressure building, the need to release it.

Choso watched as you walked over, your eyes falling onto the video playing on his phone. He expected you to get angry, to possibly even scream at him, or kick him out of the place but you just laughed.

You looked down at him, and for a moment, your eyes sparkled with mischief. "I see you liked the video?" you say, eyeing him as he slowly strokes his cock.

It hit Choso like an epiphany, that video was definitely sent to him on purpose by you He couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe you were toying and teasing him like that.

He could feel his cock throb; he could feel the promise of pleasure about to tip over. He wanted to say something, wanted to apologise, but could find no words.

He just nodded, his eyes locked into yours. It was like your eyes were afire with the look of want. Choso's eyes never found reason to break away. You sat down on the edge of your bed as your fingers brushed across his cock. He breathed out a soft moan as his hips bucked up towards you. He felt his orgasm coming on, the pressure in his balls unbearable.

You leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear. "Do you want to cum, Choso?" He nodded but couldn't string the words in a line. He wanted to finish. Wanted to cum all over your hand, these panties. He wanted you to see this, to see him release all of this pent tension.

Choso just groaned lightly then when you began softly jerking him off. Your other hand reached for his chin, and you tilted his face up so you could look into his eyes. In them, he could see the desire; he felt the warmth seeping from them at him. He wanted to lose himself in you, to bury himself in you, to be completely consumed by you.

Your hand moved faster, the grip on his cock tightening, bringing his end nearer with each stroke being sent as a lightning jolt. He wanted to cum. He wanted so desperately to just release all this pent-up tension. But also, he wanted to prolong this moment, savour the feeling of your hand on him, in case he never felt it again.

His eyes contained a demand. "Please, please," he whimpered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please, I have to- God- let me cum for you." His hips bucked up, grinding into your hand, looking for more friction, more pleasure.

Choso's cock twitched, the veins seeming to throb in time with every movement of your slick hand. Pre soaked the head of his cock, a testimony to how close he was to the edge.

He whimpered again, his body shaking at being brought closer and closer. He wanted to cum so badly, here with you, it was like one of his fantasies coming to life.

Choso breathed heavily, his moans louder as the speed of your hand increased. His fingers laced with yours, as he tried to stay close to you, eyes on your every movement. He wanted to be yours in this moment. He knew he was only moments away from being unable to hold back.

Choso quivered and whined as your hand tightened around his cock. Every stroke, caress, and touch spread waves of pleasure through his body. His skin flushed with desire; his heart fluttering in his chest.

He lent into you, inhaled your scent as his eyes drifted closed momentarily. He felt that when he was with her, he could feel safe enough to just be vulnerable. It felt as though you could see him, the real him, behind that cold distant version of himself that everyone else saw.

He was losing it, and he was falling, but he didn't give a damn. He just needed it. He needed to be yours, completely and utterly.

Choso clung to you as his eyes rolled back slightly, his orgasm ripping through him. His cock pulsing in your hand, as he shot out thick ropes of cum. A loud moan erupted from him, his body shaking. He was weightless, floating as he rode the waves of pleasure.

You never stopped your hand from making those slow, consistent strokes, milking him for every last drop. He felt your warm caress encase him, your scent pervading his senses. It seemed as if he could stay in this moment forever: lost in your touch, lost in your very presence.

Choso's body lay limp from the orgasm that wrenched through him, his chest heaving for air. Some kind of pleasure-hazed, love-drunk look on his face and his mouth curling into a self-satisfied grin.

He reached up as his hand cupped your cheek. "That was incredible," he whispered; his voice was hoarse from moans. He leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers, "Thank you."

He should have been ashamed at letting you see him like that, but he wasn't. He felt thankful, felt he had been given a gift, a moment of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

"You're such a perv." you joke, ruffling his hair.

Choso laughed again, his hand still cupping your cheek. "Guilty as charged," he said. His voice was still hoarse, post orgasm. He leaned in, kissing you gently, as if afraid you might break.

He pulled back, his eyes holding yours "But you're the one who sent me the video," he accused, with a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

"So, who's the real perv here?"

୨୧ Sukuna Ryomen - sugar daddy

Sukuna's eyes land on the screen of his phone, a message from you popping up. A picture of you in a raunchy lingerie set, one that you’d purchased with his card, a sight that instantly had him swallowing, adam’s apple bobbing.

He had been in his office, preparing for a meeting, and the sight of you in that lingerie set had him hard. It was a sight that he came to relish, to want more of. The thought of your soft skin and the way you would entwine your legs around him, the way you would moan his name, had him biting his lip.

Sukuna's hand darted down to his crotch, adjusting the bulge that was now evidently showing in his trousers. He couldn't leave the room, not in his current state. There was a meeting in half an hour and he needed this to go as soon as possible.

He grits his teeth, his hand working over his cock through his trousers. He needs to hear your voice, needs to have you talk to him. He didn't even think about it, just dialled your number, the phone ringing in his hands.

"Pick up." His voice was low and husky, his breathing heavy as he waited for your response. He needed you, needed to hear you. "I need to hear your voice."

You pick up the call and giggle, the sound sending a shiver down Sukuna's spine. He'd grown to love that sound, to crave it.

"You're wearing that for me, aren't you?" He growls, a low and dark sound. He'd always been dangerous, but with you, he felt something different. He felt...calmer. It was a strange feeling, one that he didn't want to lose.

"Tell me what you're doing right now, doll." His voice is low and seductive, the tone one that would make anyone weak at the knees. His breathing hitches, as he undoes his belt, tugging his trousers and boxers down a little so he could free his cock. He wanted to know every detail, to imagine your hands on your body as he worked his own cock. He needed to hear your voice, to hear your thoughts. He needed to know that you were thinking about him, about pleasing him.

You give in, running him through everything, the reasoning for the lingerie, what other sets you bought. You told him what you were thinking about, how you were touching yourself in this moment.

Sukuna's eyes widened at your words, his hand working faster over his cock. The thought of you touching yourself on your bed, thinking of him, had him groaning. He could almost imagine it, your soft hands roaming over your body, your fingers dipping into your pussy. The thought had him biting down on his lip, his eyes closing as he imagined it.

"Fuck, doll." He growls, his voice low and husky. "Tell me more. I want to hear every detail."

His hand works faster, his cock throbbing with need. He needed to know that you were thinking of him. He had always been such a selfish man, but with you, he felt so different. He wanted to please you, make you feel good. Though he was definitely still greedy and possessive, wanting you all to himself.

"Tell me what you're thinking about." He drawls, and his hand starts moving a little faster. He needed to know that you desired him, craved him, just as much as he did with you.

Sukuna waits, his hand working faster. The sound of his pants straining was loud in his ears, the need to release building.

"I'm thinking about you, Sukuna." Your voice is soft, breathy, the sound causing him to groan. "I'm thinking about how you'll fuck me when you come over, how you'll take me in a way that no one else can."

Sukuna could imagine it: your soft voice, your body trembling as you touched yourself. He could feel the way you would writhe under him, the way you would moan his name.

"I'm thinking about your cock, how it fills me up." You go on, your voice husky. "I want to feel you inside of me, hear you groan my name as you cum."

The sounds of you pleasuring yourself fill his ears; what gets to him is the thought of you touching yourself while you spoke of him, and Sukuna bites down on his lip.

"Sukuna..." Your voice hitches, the sound causing him to groan. "I want you to fuck me." The combination of how you sounded and you wanting him was almost too much. Sukuna could feel his release building, his hand working faster over his cock.

Sukuna's grip tightens on his phone as he hears you, the sound of your soft moans and the wet noises of you touching yourself over the phone. He can't help but imagine you, your fingers dipping into your wet heat, your body trembling as you think of him.

His breathing hitches, his hand working faster and faster over his cock. He can feel the release building, the need to cum threatening to drown him.

With a low growl, Sukuna bites down on his lip, his hips rocking in time with his hand. The room around him fades, the only thing that exists is the sound of your voice, your moans, the thought of you touching yourself for him.

Sukuna's cock is thick and veiny, pulsing in his hand as he strokes it. The head is a deep pink, desperate for release. His hand works faster, the pre-cum slicking his palm as he nears his climax.

The thought of you, the sounds of you touching yourself, has him groaning, his hips rocking with every stroke. His grip tightens, his muscles tensing as he feels the release building. He can't help but imagine it, your soft and wet cunt, the way you'd moan his name as he thrust into you.

"I want to spoil you, baby." He growls, his breathing heavy. "I want to shower you with gifts, to make you mine." He wanted to own, to claim, you for his own—it was an insane thought, one he could usually throw to the side, but with you, he found himself wanting. He wanted to look after you, treat you like the precious gem you are.

His work phone started to ring, but Sukuna didn't care. All his hand did was speed up on his cock and not stop or pull away from the sound of your voice and thinking about you touching yourself for him.

His grip tightened, his hips rocking along with his strokes. He could feel the release building, his need to cum threatening to drown him.

"I can't wait to see you, angel." He growls, his voice low and husky. "I want to taste you, to feel you under me as I claim you."

The thought of you, the sound of your moans, has him groaning, his hand working faster. He can't stop, can't pull away from the thought of you, from the sound of your voice. Sukuna bites down on his lip, his hips rocking as he nears his release. It's building, he can feel it, and the need to cum is going to consume him.

Sukuna's breathing catches at your words; his grip on the phone tightens as the sounds of your moaning and wet noises from touching yourself drive him closer to the edge.

He can do nothing but plead, his voice hoarse, desperate. "Need to hear your voice to cum, it's an addiction." His purr was low, very low—a feeling almost that one swore one felt deep in their chest, lulling one into a false sense of security. He was dangerous but with you, gentle, at least to the surface.

You can hear the need in his voice, the desperation, and you know that you're holding within your hands the power to send him over the edge. You release a soft moan as you continue touching yourself. Your voice causes Sukuna's skin to shiver with goosebumps.

"I want you to fill me up, to claim me as your own." Your voice is soft, seductive, the words causing him to groan. "Cum for me, let me hear you."

His grip tightens, his hips rocking faster as he nears his release. The sound of your voice, the thought of you touching yourself, pushes him over the edge. He can't hold back any longer, his cock pulsing in his hand as he reaches that sweet release.

"Shit, angel." He groans, his voice low and filled with desire. "Should've thought about my suit before doing this."

His cum spurts from the tip of his cock, coating his hand and trousers as he lets out a low, satisfied groan. It was an intense release, the best he's ever had with just his hand. Just thinking about you, the sound of your voice, he shuddered, breathing heavily as the aftershocks of his orgasm sent a shiver running down his spine.

The sound of your moans and the wet noises of you touching yourself continue to ring in Sukuna's ears as you cum. The sound of your pleasure, filled him with a need to hold you, to claim you.

You both cum, the release intense, the thought of each other pushing you to new heights. The sounds of your pleasure, the thought of you both finishing, had Sukuna breathing heavily, his hand still wrapped around his now softening cock.

The silence fills the line, both of you catching your breath, the sounds of your breathing heavy in each other's ears. "Gonna take you out to lunch as soon as this boring meeting's done, it's on me. Wear something pretty" he says as he tries to wipe up.

You breathe heavily, the afterglow of your orgasm still washing over you as Sukuna speaks, the thought of him buying you lunch making you smile.

"I'll wear something pretty for you, Sukuna." You reply, your voice soft and sultry. "I can't wait to see you." The thought of him, has you trembling, the aftershocks of your orgasm still sending shivers down your spine.

"Thank you for the call, baby, I needed that." Sukuna’s voice is filled with gratitude, making you feel cherished.

"Just make sure to behave for the next few hours, f'me, yeah?"

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated & it makes me smile <3

© veritasangel ↣ 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴

[nezuscribe]

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬

pairing: gojo x fem!reader

summary: once childhood friends with the crown prince, you find yourself in a troubled situation when he calls for you to help him around with his daily duties as the king to be. he seems to have forgotten everything, forgotten who you even were. but as the palace's most loyal servant there's only so many things that you can tolerate, including the prince.

warnings: 18+ mdni, slight angst misunderstandings and just not talking shit out, minor panic attack/overall anxiety (with comfort), eating out (fem! receiving), fingering, gojo is a certified munch

word count: 14.1k (sorry)

note: i can only write gojo in a royal setting now so that’s that. i really liked writing this fic so comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

jjk masterlist

it all started with that night.

when the air was biting, cold and harsh. the moon offered so little of her light as you ran across the open foyer, feeling your tear stained cheeks more than you had back in the ballroom as you could barely feel your heartbeat, not stopping until you were out of the grand double doors, running as fast as you could through the gardens until you were sure everything and everybody was far behind you. 

you continued for a little more, finding yourself at the foot of the rose gardens, your chest heaving up and down, sweat dotting your forehead. you were sure the rouge that you had so carefully dotted onto yourself was ruined now, but that was the least of your worries. 

you place a hand on your chest, catching your breath, looking behind you to make sure that nobody had followed you outside. most nights, such as ones like this, you enjoyed the freckles of stars above you, but now, all that filled your mind were the events of moments ago. 

the staring, the judgment. 

“is everything all right?” 

your head snaps around, your eyes wide in shock as you find a man standing behind you, a careful feet away so as to not startle you even more than he already had. you couldn't make out his face in the darkness, but with your blurry vision, you doubt you could make out your own reflection.

you nod feverishly, trying for a smile that was shaking and quivering as you turn away for a second, patting your cheeks dry as you try out for a weak laugh. 

“yes, t-thank you,” your voice cracks, your lips trembling and your breathing heavy. your uniform and apron was sticking tightly to your skin and everything seemed as if it was tilted on an axis. you felt like the world was spinning in the opposite direction, and had it not been for the strong  hands behind you that steadied you upwards, you were sure you would’ve fallen down. 

“miss, are you sure everythings alright? surely i can call for a-” the man stops when you shake your head quickly, just realizing how much trouble you were going to be in if your superior ever saw you missing from your post. 

“no, thank you, i, i have to go,” you try to stand up again but stumble, grateful that he still had a steady hand on your elbow, “i apologize, i don’t know why i’m so dizzy.” you say, holding your head in your hands, trying to ease your temple with the thumping it was doing. 

“would it perhaps be because you ran through the entire courtyard in a matter of seconds?” his voice is low yet teasing, and you should be embarrassed and mortified that somebody saw you, but you feel beside yourself tonight and laugh, nodding along.

“perhaps,” there’s a small smile on your face, but the gentleman chuckles along, helping you stand comfortably, making sure you didn’t need him until he was absolutely sure you wouldn’t topple over. 

“are you not enjoying the festivities?” he remains a good distance away from you, though you’re glad he’s given you some space. 

you swallow thickly, rubbing at your eyes and cheeks to rid them of the tears but they just seem to be non-stop. 

“the festivities aren’t the problem,” you sniffle, hiccuping as you laugh wetly, “i just seem to be too sensitive for the likes of them.” you say the last word with some weight.

you thought that after all these years, after all the times you proved you’re more than your lineage, somebody always manages to bring it up. 

he doesn’t say anything for a couple of seconds, the only sound that you can hear is your shuddered breathing. 

“take in a deep breath,” his words are soft, but your head snaps up, confused. 

“it’s a breathing exercise,” he explains further, gently, “one in, one out,” he places a sturdy hand on your back, one that was too close for if a chaperon were to ever see you in such a compromising position you would be ruined, “we’ll do it together, i’ll count.”

your eyes are squeezed shut, but you mimic your breathing to his rhythmic breathes, your mouth open as small puffs of air fill your collapsing lungs. it takes a while for this sort of breathing pattern to take effect, but it helps you to calm down a bit. your nerves are still erratic, but it’s better than before. 

“there you go,” his voice is soothing, calming, something you’ve never heard before, something you’ve never known you’ve needed.

there’s a few beats of silence, your eyes squeezed shut until you finally open them again to get a good look of who this stranger was. 

“i have to thank you…” you trail off, your breath catching harshly in your throat when you're met with those familiar eyes, the same ones you see in the paintings you are set to clean each and every day, the same ones that look at yo with childish joy when he used to chase you around the courtyard when you were children. the infamous white hair, a tale telling of his lineage, and the countless medallions on his suit.

you don’t know what to do, and you take a tentative step back. all the feelings of fear, of embarrassment, of dread coming rushing back, but ten times worse. 

“sato…y-your highness, i,” you stagger backwards, “i…” you’re at a loss for words, your breaths coming out erratic again. 

he reaches his hand out for you to take again, his brows furrowed in confusion with you sudden change of emotions, growing into even more confusion when he gets a better look at you, memories rushing back at the strange familiarity of your face, but you don’t know as you scrunch your uniform between your fingers, muttering some unintelligible words under your breath as you bow hurriedly, brushing past him as you speedily make your way back to the palace, breaking about every protocol you have been taught since your first day there,

blissfully unaware of just how much your life was about to change.

—

the life of a palace maid is a bustling one, full of daily duties that fill your time from the moment you wake up to the moment you put your head down to rest. dusting the staircases, making sure the royal portraits are in tip-top shape, and, of course, tending to any of the needs the royals themselves need. 

you were lucky in your position, not too close to the top where any slight mess up could be your undoing, but far up where you could enjoy the more tedious and rewarding of tasks that others, such as the kitchen workers or the stables servants, may not have the luxury of having. you count your lucky stars every day that you’re not stuck cleaning fru-fru’s (the king's prized horse) droppings. 

“there really are no breaks,” lydia muttered under her breath, folding the freshly cleaned linen sheets as you gave her a look from under your lashes, warning her to be careful with her words, never too sure of how alone you two could be, “what? it’s just the truth.” 

you snort, not disagreeing with her because it was the truth. there had been royal balls upon endless balls, countless gala’s and feasts for the past couple of months. the prince was finally rumored ready to take on a wife, and all the eligible bachelors and their mamas have flocked to the scene, ready to become part of the gojo family. 

the last one had been all but two weeks ago, the same one where…you couldn’t think of it too much, glad that nobody else was there to witness your trivial breakdown. all except the prince, of course, but you hadn’t been beheaded yet so you never mentioned it to anybody. 

but, despite the last social gathering being so recent, another one was about to take place in a week. everybody could feel their hands splitting raw at the thought of cleaning the palace once again, but it was all in a day's work. 

“though i must say, you always seem to find a way to entertain yourself through all these surely grueling events,” you tease, a knowing look in your eyes as an unmistakable blush takes over her cheeks. 

“well!” she exclaimed, laughing under her breath as she fanned herself with her gloved hand, picking up another sheet to fold, “if a young man displayed his notable affections towards me, i would only be mad not to entertain them.” 

“you’re such a flirt,” you giggle, careful to keep your voices quiet so that nobody would come and break the two of you up. you were fortunate enough to spend most of your time with your closest friend, but if anybody ever got a whiff of just how much the two of you enjoyed folding bed sheets or tidying up the king's study. 

“there have been countless events, and yet, there is no wife,” she says this more as a statement rather than anything, “do you think it’s because the prince is cruel?” 

she was right about this, too. it was more often than not when lydia was wrong.

it had been a couple months of trying to set the prince up with his rightful match. women from corners of the earth, places you’ve never heard of, have found their ways to these balls and galas. of course, the palace did all they could to quell the rumors on why it was taking their beloved prince so long to find a wife, and yet, they could do so much. the rumors were beginning to grow, and none in his favor.

you laugh uncomfortably, hoping that nobody could hear the two of you in this closet. 

“the prince? cruel?” you shrug, feigning indifference. 

he wasn't cruel when you met him. 

and he never was crue all those years agol, or at least from what you could recall. 

because before there was lydia, there was satoru. 

so many years ago, you and the prince were childhood friends. he somehow introduced himself one of the days you were cleaning the castle, your uniform still so large seeing how it was made for a teenager and you were yet to reach six, so you were swallowed by it. but he didn't seem to care much about who you were, rather the fact that he was able to find somebody around his age, happy to have a friend that didn’t have to practice fencing with. 

the two of you were close, as close as a prince and a young maid can get. 

you never had a semblance of a normal childhood, but for those few years that you had known him, he offered you some normality that you would've never expected from the crown prince. at nights, when the two of you would meet up in a spare closet, he’d unravel a satchel full of bread and sweets, things he had stolen from his dinner table, knowing that your meals were often far smaller than his. 

he didn’t seem to forget you, even as he grew in his adolescence. he’d still find you wherever you were, a bright smile on his face as you gave yourself a quick break, running around the gardens with him as you squealed, trying not to get caught by him as he tried to push you down into the river nearby. 

but, you tended to be more level-headed than him, and easily foresaw the day that came when his advisors found out he had been befriending the servant girl, more specifically the daughter of the town courtesan, and before you knew it, you had been swept away, promised to never mingle with him again. they couldn’t strip you bare of your position at the palace, knowing that you worked for far less than others asked for and longer than most did, but they changed your place, your rooms, and you barely saw him again. he soon forgot, and you counted yourself lucky that you were still able to have a memory to latch on to. 

“or perhaps he’s unlikely to even take a wife. he may prefer his time spent with multiple women, if you get what i mean,” she continues, your thought coming back into focus as you suddenly realize what she just said, swatting her with one of the towels while saying such an unbecoming thing about her prince. 

“or maybe he’s taking his time,” you give her a pointed look for being so crass, “he might be holding out for a love match.” you say, your gaze focused on your nimble fingers as you fold the sheets as if it were second nature, your body moving faster than your mind was. 

she snorts, rolling her eyes at your romantics. 

“you can’t-” she goes to say something but is crudely cut off by the doors behind the two of you swinging open. 

your necks snap around as you are instant to stand, bowing deeply to whoever it is that walks in, looking up only after a brief pause. 

a part of you tenses upon seeing the housekeeper, miss lottie, entering in. her graying hairs were pulled back in a tight bun, the uniform that all the maids wore ironed to perfection. though she may not be as in her youth as she once was, her face was void of wrinkles, a feat, considering her position. 

two men who you had never seen before walking in behind her, standing on either side as she motions for the both of you to introduce yourselves. lydia bows once again, saying her name, and you do the same. 

“these are the last of my girls, gentlemen,” she starts with a sigh, massaging her temple, missing the confused look you and lydia shared as she offered no explanation for what was happening, “these are the only other maids in my department that wear this uniform.” 

the two guards look at you and lydia top and down, their eyes racking over your features, your postures, your faces. you felt sweat prickling at the back of your neck, your hands growing clammy as your mouth dried. 

surely, it can’t be.

“her,” one of the guards raised his gloved hand to you. 

“her?” lydia cries out loud, earning a disapproving look from miss lottie, but the old woman seems to be just as confused as you and lydia. 

“come with us,” the other one says, opening the door further, not seeming to care about your stupified state as you grip onto lydia’s wrist as tightly as you could.

you couldn’t speak, couldn't breath. you felt like you did that night, the same dreadful feeling that filled your veins and your lungs, keeping you from taking in the air you so desperately needed. 

“gentlemen,” lydia takes a step forward, trying to shield you with her body, “i’m sure whatever it is you’re after, she,” she points her head over to you, “is certainly not it.”

this is it, you tell yourself, they’ve finally tracked you down. 

the two guards don’t pay her any mind, don’t even address nor speak to her as they push her aside, wrenching your hands away from her as they try to move you forward, trying to move you away. 

“miss lydia, please,” miss lottie almost seems to beg, has her brows furrowed in puzzlement as to what was happening, her mouth agape as she watches them take you away. 

you feel your mind go hazy, your vision turning blurry as you dumbly follow the guards out of the room, the muted shouts of your friends growing softer and softer behind you as you walk through the halls you[‘ve been walking through for nearly your entire life, 

not knowing if it would be your last. 

—

the three of you walk for a while, and it doesn't help that nauseous and sinking feeling that you have growing in the pit of your stomach. your eyes darted around, your cheeks heating up in an uncomfortable flush when you caught the glances the others servants and maids gave, the way they began instantly whispering behind their gloved hands or one another as to what could be happening. 

you quickly looked down, watching your steps. if you weren't ruined after whatever this was, the gossip that was to circulate about you surely would.

they lead you up a spiral staircase, through the east wing, and after some time, the walls and the floors begin to grow unfamiliar to you. these are the places that even you weren’t authorized to clean, places that only the most trusted and known people were allowed to be. 

you peek around through the corners of your eyes, trying to take it all in one last time. there is more gold encrusted into the painting, the wall decorum, the ceiling. it’s more grand than you even thought the palace could be, and had it not been for your doomed fate, you would’ve tried to savor it more. 

the guards in front of you suddenly stop in front of a door, and you almost bump into one of them had you not stopped yourself milliseconds before. 

one of the guards raised his fist, knocking once, letting his hands fall behind his back. 

you wait with baited breath until you hear a muffled, “come in,” from behind the door, and the other guard turns the knob, the door swinging wide open. 

the two men come in before you do, their bodies hiding the view. you stay outside, your hands shaking, waiting until further instruction. 

the guards are speaking to the person inside, their voice mixing with each other in your muddled head, and you feel your eyes begin to wet. all of your hard work, all the sacrifices you’ve made along the way, every sleepless night devoted to securing your rank and your future were now going up in flames. 

“why didn’t you tell her to come in?” the first voice grows a little louder, “come in, miss,” he calls out, and you take in a deep, shaky breath. 

you take a slow, tentative step inside, and then another one. your feet pad in quietly, your head ducked down in respect but also because you couldn't have these people seeing you like this, it was mortifying as it was. 

you bow, knowing that you were in the presence of royalty from just the atmosphere of the room alone. you go down as low as you can, almost kissing the floor with your nose. 

“you men can go now,” the voice, an all too familiar one, says. 

you hear their heavy footsteps behind you, the door shutting with a thud. 

“you can stand,” the prince says, his voice less loud and commanding. 

you slowly rise, still keeping your head down, your eyes meeting a desk, some papers, and when you finally look up, the prince. 

his smile quickly drops when he sees your face, quickly moving away from his seat as he rounds the table, making his way over to you as you quickly wipe away at your tears. it was breaking your etiquette protocol for how you were to act if you were to ever come face to face with royalty, but you don’t see any point in acting in such a way when this is somehow quite similar to your first encounter. 

“are you hurt?” he quickly asks, standing a foot away from you, his eyes darting around your body as you quickly shake your head, sniffing as you stand as perfectly still as you could. 

“were my guards rough with you?” he looks behind himself at the door, “i will have a word with them immediately-” 

but you shake your head again, swallowing thickly as you dip your head down once, going to speak. 

“it was not the guards, your highness,” you feel like time is stopping as he stares intently at you, “i just have an apathy for being too emotional at times.” you try to joke, but with the way your heart was beating so loudly and erratically, it drowned out any humor you may have been trying for. 

“is it perhaps because you’ve been called to the prince's study with no reason or explanation?” he jokes, his eyes look at you from beneath his long lashes and you laugh wetly.

“perhaps,” you accept the handkerchief he gives you with a small thank you.

you wipe at your tears, quickly composing yourself with taking a couple of more steady breaths, and you were glad that the prince was at least giving you this time to look a little more presentable until he sentenced you to your punishment. 

“right, well,” he claps his hands together, a small smile on his face as he inches backwards until he’s able to sit on his desk, not caring for the slue of papers underneath, “i’m glad i was finally able to find you.”

find you?

you don’t say anything, your eyes taking him in for the first time, and for the first time, the rumors were correct. 

he was positively gorgeous. 

the veil of night hid a lot of his features, leaving only the more pronounced things for you to see. not only that, but you had been sworn to keep away from him, the last time you were really able to see him was years ago. 

but now, illuminated under the light from the large windows to the side of him, you can see him as clearly as you possibly could. his eyes were striking and stark, a blue that you could only get if you looked at the sea and saw all the colors mixing around together. his lips were plump and pink. his jaw was sturdy, but that could’ve been said along with the rest of his body, no longer looking like the lanky little boy that you were used to envisioning. though he donned a simple white button up, the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing just how strong he was. everything about him exuded radiance, the spectacularity that only comes with being the crown prince. 

you try to focus yourself again, and try not to melt under the way he noticed you staring too hard, his smile turning into something far more teasing.

he wets his lips, sitting up a little bit straight, pushing himself off the table just a bit so that he could be closer to you. 

“my name is satoru,” he extends his hand outward, and you stare at it. 

oh, a part of you sinks, he doesn't remember you.

“shake, please” he says as if reading your mind, “my hand isn’t infected with a fungal disease if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

you quickly nod, feeling sheepish as your hands slowly raise from where they were resting on your crumpled apron, fingers gently and barely there as they glide against his palm until your hand is enclosed in his, fingers curling around his as you shake. 

his palm is soft, unlike yours which had grown rough and riddles with scratches and cuts from over the years. he shakes firmly yet gently, not too harsh unlike the other men whose hands you’ve shaken before, making it somewhat a point to not only bruise your skin but to show off their strength as you look at them with a sneer. 

you don’t let go until he does, not wanting to seem rude or improper, and your hands quickly fall back down to your sides. you’re aware of the stains of food and dirt on your white apron, the way it is held together through stitches and intricate sewing. it’s a stark difference to what he’s wearing, even if simple, but the quiet opulence is what differentiates the two of you so easily. 

he waits patiently and you suddenly realize that he’s waiting for your name. you said it quickly, your eyes darting to him as you bow your head again.

“as i said,” he continued, his head turning as he looked out the window, taking in the scenery, “i have been trying my best to find you ever since, well, i’m sure you remember.”

“i was told by…miss marla scott, is it?” he asks, and you nod, miss lottie, “that you are one of, if not, her best girls.”

you nod again, not knowing what to do. he was going on about this as if all those years ago were a figment of your imagination, as if your childhoods weren’t linked together the way you recall them being. that could be for the best though, seeing how you could be in trouble if anyone were to remember. 

“i’ve recently had to do away with some of my valets, they didn’t meet my expectations.” he scratches his jaw, looking back at you, his eyes simmering as you look at him from beneath your lashes. 

“i would like for you to be my maid.” he finally said, his fingers playing with the ring on his middle finger, twisting it back and forth as it caught and reflected the sunlight. 

there’s a beat of silence, a moment in which the two of you just look at each other. 

you almost laughed in shock, your brows shooting upwards in surprise, hands interlinking themselves as they rested on your queasy stomach. 

“p-pardon,” you swallow dryly, “pardon me?” 

he waves it off, his eyes playful, obviously understanding that you weren’t expecting this and he runs a hand through his arctic hair. you intently watch his every movement, waiting for him to burst out into laughter and to say that this was all one big joke, one meant to set you up into a trap. 

“you’d have to make my bed every day, make sure my room is clean. my office,” he motions to the room around the two of you, “as well. anywhere i am, you are. i’m not a particularly messy person, but i like the assurance a maid provides.”

“your highness,” you breathe deeply through your nose, a puff of air coming out as you smile shortly, “i am more than honored, but i’m not sure i’ve been trained the way a personal maid has been trained. i would hate to disappoint you,” you chose your words carefully, but he waves it all off with his gloved hand.

“you will be taught. after all, you are the best, are you not?” his eyes crease around the edges, waiting for you to simply nod once again, and you do, slowly. 

“but, your highness, i…” you trail off, failing silent and running out of words as you find yourself sputtering under his gaze. you’re usually one who’s easily composed, your back straight and shoulders pressed backwards, but you feel it all slipping away. 

“why me? i surely couldn’t have made a favorable impression the first time we met, your highness.”

he looks at you for a moment, brief, fleeting. 

“you’re human, it happens,” he simply says, his eyes flickering a different shade, “my mother always tells me that we forget to exhaust the capabilities that connect us together,” he rubs in between his brows, soothing the crease, not going any further into his explanation when he looks up at you, his smile debonair, “now, do you accept?”

you suck in a breath. 

one nod. 

yes. 

—-

you were quickly swept away from your normal routine of things to become the princes maid, something that you could barely even get out once lydia was able to ask you about what had happened. you can remember the looks you received after walking to your new quarters, a private room for the first time in your life, by the people who judged you the first time around, feeling a little victorious with your single back packed with the three changes of clothes you owned. 

you spent days going over what was to be expected of you, and it all felt like it was a joke. 

it was too simple, too easy of a job with an even simpler explanation from the prince as to why you were even here. 

“his highness wakes up early, so you will need to be up before he is,” one of the ladies who was briskly walking around the princes caves explained rapidly, “and his nighttime schedule is, well, hectic, which means you will have to be with him until he goes to sleep.”

you blink, trying to get that all in as you take mental notes of everything you are being taught. 

“and during the day? where should i be?”

she looked up at you as if you were an idiot, as if that was the most obvious question you could’ve asked. 

“by his side, of course, you are to ensure his highness is always comfortable. your role is beyond making his bed or simply cleaning up after him. it’s making sure that our prince is at ease when he is to one day become our king.”

you never thought you would be standing behind the door of the prince's chambers, waiting for him to wake up, but your life always seemed to have a different plan waiting for you than what you’d expect. 

it’s better than you’d expect it to have been, too. at first, it was difficult getting used to the prince and his way of doing things. he would act rash sometimes, acting without thinking of the consequences. he was playful, he loved laughing. there were times when you’d be standing a good distance away from him when he’d be having dinner with families of women who were there to marry him, diplomats that talked just to bore it would seem, and you’d catch his wandering eye, suppressing a smile that seemed to quirk up on his face as well. 

it wasn’t long before you found yourself speaking more freely around him, keeping some of the pleasantries, but regarding him more as a friend, just as you would with lydia. 

he would often spend hours away in his study just talking, telling you about his daily outings and the struggles he was having with finding a wife. whenever you offered your thoughts or opinions he listened thoughtfully, his gaze heavy and caring.

though he may not have remembered your ancient friendship, you did, and an old part of you feels like it’s coming back after all those years. the naive part that was just happy to have a person to talk to, somebody that wouldn’t look at you in disgust or pity. 

but you bring your focus back to now, listening intently, waiting to hear the bed sheets ruffle and the floorboards to creak as he makes his way out of his bed. 

after a couple of weeks of doing this you’ve become somewhat familiar with the prince's way of doing things, and just as you thought he was going to sleep in, you hear the bedsheets ruffle with movement. 

“your highness?” you call quietly, “may i come in?”

there’s a loud yawn, something unintelligible, and then you hear the go ahead for you to go. 

you slowly open the door, making sure not to be loud as you bow politely, closing the door before you as you set the tray of cold water and fruits down on the nightstand near his bed. 

the prince prefers to eat something before he breaks his fast in front of his family and the watchful eyes of the palace, enjoying these small moments he has with himself. 

“good morning your highness,” you greet, lighting the candle as you look behind your shoulder to see the prince groggily running at his eyes, yawning once again as he waves tiredly to you. 

why he chooses to wake up before the sun is even in the sky is beyond you, but you would be mad to question the choices of the prince. unfortunately, he seems to be waking up even earlier than the times you were told, so every morning you find yourself getting up at the crack of dawn to make sure you’re up before he is. 

“did you sleep well?” you walk around the bed, setting down some fresh sheets and clothes for him to pick out, opening the curtains as you watch the sun just barely peek out from the horizon. 

“well enough,” his voice is deep, filled with sleep, and you're glad your back is momentarily turned so that he couldn’t see the way a smile threatened to poke its way on your face. 

“i’m glad to hear,” you turn around, catching him briefly taking a swing of water, savoring its coolness, and you try not to look too long at the droplets that roll down his chin, splattering on his thigh, “would you like me to go through your events set for the day?” 

he glances at you from over his cup, blinking as he wordlessly tells you to continue. 

“today, you are to meet with the king's advisors after you break your fast, but i doubt they should take too long. at noon, you have a lunch meeting set with the lady dower and her daughter,” you quote from memory, “and afterwards we are to swiftly get you ready for tonight's ball.” 

he groans loudly, opposing this, and you smirk, your eyes trained on him as he sets his water down, sniffing as he stands up, stretching his arms above his head. you feel like a fiend, with the way you quickly avert your gaze from his toned stomach, the happy trail of hair that leads…

your eyes shoot up at him, glad that his were still screwed shut, another yawn escaping his lips as he leans his head side to side, cracking his neck.

“i’ve already met with the lady dower,” he almost whines, his nose wrinkling at the thought, “what do they want this time?” 

“a ring, probably,” you mutter under your breath, but he hears, a chuckle falling past his lips as he nods along, tsking as he shrugs. he obviously doesn’t want the dower girl to be his wife, and you could only feel sorry for how tense the meetings going to be. 

he picks up a cube of melon, popping it in his mouth, humming at the sweet taste. he offers the bowl to you, just as he’s always done, but you politely decline, just as you’ve always done. you may have become friendly with the prince, but there is still some semblance of protocol that you’ll force yourself to follow. 

“is this chocolate?” he pipes up, looking at the tray a bit more closely, holding up the little sweet to the light. 

“you’ve mentioned how much you like them, and the kitchen has been making a plethora of them for the ball, so i thought i should snag you some before they're all gone.” you explain, and he turns it around, shooting you a thankful, genuine smile. he sets it down, most likely saving it until the very last moment.

“will you be there? tonight?” he asks, filling up his glass with water once again. 

“not down there with you, your highness-” 

“how many times have i told you to drop the titles?” he chides playfully, cutting you off as you sigh deeply through your nose. you’re terrified of calling him by his name too many times in private, and slipping up in public, knowing just how bad it would turn out for you if that were to happen. 

“not down there with you, gojo,” you say his last name with extra weight, just a little bit of sass, and he rolls his eyes, “i am to help out elsewhere.” 

he nods in understanding. 

“could you be down there?” he picks up a piece of watermelon, fashioned into a sphere, eating it as you sputter, brows furrowing in slight confusion as you open your mouth, shut it, and then open it again to speak. 

“unless i am serving, i would not be allowed,” you explain, following behind him as he moves away from the bed, quickly making the messed up sheets as he makes room for you. you’re supposed to wait until he’s out of the room, but in your growing friendship with the prince, you find it amusing the way he flutters away. 

he makes a small sound in the back of his throat, and you look behind your shoulder to see him deep in thought. 

“i’ll find a way.” 

“what-” 

“i’ll see you later,” he exits his room, shutting himself in his bathroom as the other servants are their, waiting with his bath drawn, leaving you there to gape in silence. 

—-

gojo somehow stuck to his word, finding a way for you to be near him by the time the ball arrived. 

you felt overwhelmed, your senses were going hardwire at the sheer size of everything. it was one thing to be part of setting up the decorations, or to view it from afar behind a pillar, but to be part of it was something totally different. 

there had been a couple balls since you first started your new position, but this happened to be the first one that you had gotten clearance for. of course, you weren’t a part of the crowd, hidden somewhere in the midst of servants and servers, but you were nearer than you’ve ever been. 

they even dress you up in more fashionable servant clothes, knowing that if you were to wear your tattered uniform it would easily give it away that you weren’t one of them. you didn’t have a job for the evening other than to make sure that the prince was comfortable, so you tried everything you could not to let him out of your sight. 

you found yourself searching for lydia in the crowd, but she had told you that she’d be in the kitchens, having to help out with the food they’d be sending out, and so you doubted you would be able to catch a glimpse of her amongst all the chaos that is hidden to their eyes. 

the prince, despite your best efforts, kept getting drowned in by the sea of people and ball gowns. every time he twirled a girl around for a dance he was hidden by a wave of colorful fabrics, and you’d have to squint to see his white hair peeking out.

you tapped your fingers on the railing you were leaning against, trying to soak it all in while you had the chance. you had heard of the royal balls and just how extravagant they truly could be, but you never thought you’d have the chance to see one in its entirety. 

“i don’t believe we’ve met,” 

your head snaps to your left, eyes widening in surprise at the stranger that had somehow slithered their way next to you without noticing.

“i apologize, i didn't mean to scare you,” the man says with an apologetic laugh. you huff out a small sound, shaking your head as you bow your body a little bit, watching as he bows his head in turn.

“no apology necessary, uh, mister…?” you pause, realizing that you actually haven’t even seen his face before, let alone heard of his name.

“fushiguro,” he finishes for you, the scar on his lip quirking upwards as he settles himself on teh railing, looking down at the scene below you as he shoots you a small look, “but i’d prefer it if you’d call me toji.”

you duck your head down, smiling as you repeat your name, feeling heat pricks at the back of your neck. he’s certainly handsome, and most likely higher ranked in title with the expensive material he fills out well. 

you’ve seen him around, most likely from afar. his face is familiar, and you’re sure that he’s had to have at least another one of these balls considering the fact that he’s given up mixing with the ton. 

he surely has to note that what you’re wearing is on par with what the other servants and maids are, but he doesn't choose to comment.

“i’ve started a little bet with myself,” he says, his voice deep and gruff. you take a second to look him over thoroughly, noting the way his hair is messy and looks undone, black as the night. his eyes shimmer green, but turn more olive toned in the light, and he has a smile exudes an air of confidence, “would you like you partake in it?”

you smile, looking at him from the side. 

“i thought they taught you better manners than to introduce yourself with a bet when you first meet a lady.” 

he chuckles, shrugging his shoulders as his eyes glint. 

“thought i already told you my name?” he’s smooth with it, and you’re not used to this. 

you don’t say anything for a second, your chest moving as you take in a necessary gulp of air. you normally try not to think too much in gojo’s flirtatious personality, because he seems to be like that with everybody he’s ever met. but this is new. 

“see,” he leans in, your arms touching as you both lean a bit over the railing, and he’s lower this voice to a whisper so that nobody else can hear, “i bet that our little prince is setting his eyes on the young lady in the red dress, but i also bet that he may be mulling over the one in the green shawl.” his fingers slyly point to the two of them, and you crane your neck a bit, standing on your toes as you try to get a better look. the man, toji, isn’t incorrect in his observations. gojo has danced with miss corden almost three times at this point, and another two with miss ahura, but you remember that he only favored these two more because they tended not to step on his shoes when dancing. you suppress your smile, choosing to indulge him in his little bet.  

“i say miss ahura has a better chance,” you say and he watches as gojo twirls her around on the dance floor, “her family is far more affluent and i hear that she has riches beyond comprehension in persia.” 

“are you saying our prince is covetous? the sacrilege,” his voice is full of mirth and you hide your little giggle behind a gloved hand, your elbows lightly hitting his as you keep your eyes trained down below. 

the waltz comes to an end, the violinists lifting their instrument off from their shoulders as they prepare for the next piece, the ladies and gentlemens who had just danced bowing to each other as they separate. 

you watch for gojo, watch as he moves to the end of the floor, accepting the drink one of his companions had waiting for him as he delves into conversation. he takes a sip, nodding along to whatever it is that is being muttered in his ear. 

he looks up for a second, his eyes scanning around for something. he’s careful not to attract attention to this fact, but you see him scan the entire room, the different floors, his eyes squinting as he tries to narrow his vision. he looks around for a couple more seconds, looking and looking until he finds you. 

a brief and quick smile takes over his face when he finally sees your face, your own lips tugging upwards as you give him a small wave. his eyes fall to the man besides you, his smile falling as well, and toji grunts. 

“are you familiar with the prince?” he asks, obviously catching this, and you gnaw on your lips in apprehension, confusion. 

“barely,” you mutter, not giving him too many details, watching as gojo looks away just as quickly, as if he had never seen you and you swallow thickly, wondering what brought on his sudden change in emotions. 

or why he even looked for you in the first place. 

“barely doesn’t warrant the prince looking for you,” toji whispers in your ear, “‘think you know him a little better than you give yourself credit for.” 

—

after the ball, gojo didn’t speak much to you when the two of you were back in his chambers.

he tended to get tired out by the end of balls, but you found yourself lonely without the endless stories he came to you with, the way he’d relive some of the events just as he was going to bed so that he wouldn’t forget them in the morning. 

but he was strangely quiet right now, didn’t say anything as you helped him shrug off his coat, hanging it up in his closet as you bite your cheek, feeling some odd tension radiate off of him, something you’ve never felt before. 

“did you enjoy the ball?” you asked, standing near his bed as he shuffles around, kicking off his boots as he scrunches his nose in distaste. 

“it was like any other,” he says plainly, yanking his tie off as you grab it from his wordlessly, folding it up so that it wouldn’t crease.

“did you like dancing with miss ahura?” you don’t know what’s going on, why he seems so rigid, “she looked beautiful, did she not?” 

he shrugs passively, not answering as he rummages around his drawers, dropping down his cufflinks in a pile with the rest of his gold ones, not knowing that a single pair of them would most likely feed you for a year.

“would you like a midnight snack? i saved some truffles for you,” you dig into your pockets, bringing some out that you had snagged from the desserts table and had wrapped in a napkin, something akin to what he used to bring you all those years ago, waiting eagerly all night to show him, “these even have some gold on them, i’ve never seen-” 

“i have chefs at my disposal,” he mutters as he unbuttons his shirt, “i don’t need truffles covered in lint.” 

your smile fell at the bite in his voice, the way it seemed to grip it’s claws around your lungs, squeezing the air out of them. you silently pocket the napkin.

“of course…i apologize,” there's a bitter taste in the back of your throat, catching his eyes momentarily. you see the way they shift, how his mouth parts open, and then he shuts them again. 

you can feel his stare as you shove your other hand back into your other dress pocket, this one with a miniature tart that you had so carefully tried to preserve throughout the evening from breaking, and feel a heavy weight settle on your chest. 

“i have your bath ready,” you point to the bathroom, ducking your head down as you bow, “i will see you in the morning, your highness.” 

you left  quickly, feeling foolish as you trekked down the stairs to your own room, feeling your heart slow down as you shut your door, shedding off the wretched costume that had you feeling as if you were something worthwhile for once. 

—-

for a while after that night, the two of you share brief conversations, sentences kept to a minimum as you bring back the cordiality that you had begun to shed off for a while. if he noticed it, he didn’t comment on it. after some days passed, and days turned into a week and a half, he barely even looked at you, and you took it as a sign that he had tired out of the small friendship and was looking elsewhere for momentary entertainment.  

tonight, you found yourself standing in the corner of his office, eyes darting around as you waited in heavy silence as his quill scratched on the parchment beneath him, dipping it in ink every now and then as he mumbled unintelligible words under his breath. 

his head rests in his hands, throwing his head back in frustration at whatever it is the document is telling him. 

his head falls down, his eyes slowly opening as he looks up at you. 

your brow raised slightly in questioning. 

“i need you,” he says, eyes widening slightly at his slip up, “i-i need your help.” he clears his throat harshly.  

he ushers to the papers in front of him, and you inhale deeply, making your way from the corner that you’ve hidden yourself in as you cross the room, your steps careful as you round to his table, standing at the edge as you stay quiet. 

“here,” he bites out, “come here.” he needs you next to him, and you have to control the urge to roll your eyes as you move, shuffling so that you were standing near his chair, looking down at the piece of paper that he’s been mulling over for the better half of an hour. 

you look at it, mouth parting open as your brows scrunch up as you focus, trying to ignore the way his eyes were burning into the side of your face. 

“i don’t understand, your highness,” you finally say, leaning away from him, “what am i supposed to be looking at?”

he pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling as he sets the paper down, leaning back in the chair. 

“it’s a letter of inheritance, who gets what after the father dies,” he explains, “but the signatures don’t match up. does it seem forged to you?” 

you look again, looking at the two signatures laid next to each other, the way the letters curved, which ones swooped, tilting your head, trying to see it from a different angle. the more you looked at it, the more disingenuous the signatures seemed. 

“they might be,” you briefly look at him, his stare burning if you look too long, “but i’m not sure, your highness.”

his face hardens for a second, and you move away, going back to the end of the table as you bow, taking your leave to the back of the room until he speaks again. you pause, looking over your shoulder to him. 

“care to look again? i have a feeling that you have a knack for schemes.” his lips are pulled back in a smile that doesn't meet his eyes, miles away from the usual smile you see from him, and if not for the benign expression, his words surely made you stumble. 

“excuse me?” you bite back quickly, your nose flaring as he scoffs, shaking his head as if he expected this reaction. 

“you’re shameless with it, aren’t you?” he’s alluding to something, and it’s driving you crazy. all the stares you’ve shared this past week, the silent exchange of aggravated words that grow only in size the more the two of you simmer. even when you were young, your arguments were resolved quickly.

“with what?” you snap, the accusations he’s throwing at you with no reasoning swarming your mind, clouding your judgment, your way of carrying yourself as you throw all etiquette out the window. 

“i can only wonder what ploys fushiguro played out for you, but i wonder even more which ones tempted you the most?” 

your tongue is heavy in your mouth, and you make a sound in the back of your throat, one of shock, one of clear surprise. was all of his unspoken anger because of…him? the man you met during the ball? surely it can’t be. 

you gape, the candle flickering away in the same beats your heart was going at, illuminating his stone cold face as he stands up from his chair, moving slowly to where you were. you try to stand tall, but you can’t match up to his height.

“you,” your jaw clenches, eyes searching his to see if he was joking, “you’ve been treating me like i’m, i’m,” you stutter, your chest constricting, “the shit you wipe off your shoe because you think i’m scheming with s-some man i met for the first time?” 

his expression flickers for a second, as if suddenly realizing what he was saying.

“as if you don’t know who he is,” he collects himself, a sneer making its way on his face, “as if you don’t know what they’ve done to us-” 

“i don’t!” you cut him off, a shocked laugh escaping your lips, “i don’t know who he is! i just thought he was being friendly!” 

gojo pauses, his eyes searching yours for any traces of lies

“come on,” he scoffs, “you know how the zenin family-”

“who, who’s the zenin family?” you exclaim, watching in real time as the facade and things he’s been convincing himself of aren’t true. 

“the,” he stutters, his face scrunching up in confusion, “the zenin…? how do you not know…?”

“because i’m a maid!” you shout, not caring if others behind the door could hear you yelling at their prince, “because i’ve spent my entire life working here! i keep my head down and i do what i’m told, a-and i keep to myself. forgive me for not knowing about your royal affairs, your highness!” 

he’s rendered silent, lips pulled into a thin line. 

“but you only care about yourself, right? the sacred prince who had everything given to him his entire life,” you continue, feeling your own pent up frustrations spewing out. you know that you’re going to lose everything after this anyways, so you don’t care about the repercussions now. you can’t bring it in yourself to care.

“you don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, thick with some unidentifiable emotion as you roll your eyes. 

“i don’t? tell me, do you even remember me?” you hate that you’re losing touch of sensibility and making it personal, personal about your own feelings and how your mind can’t wrap around the fact that he simply forgot who you were or how much he affected you, “or are your cares about the people who work for you so fleeting that you barely know our names? is my replacement coming in a week, two weeks?”

“stop,” he bites out, his eyes dark, a storming brewing on the endless sea they offer, “you don’t know-” 

“what i’m taking about…right?” you finish for him, “because i’m just the simple maid who you took in as your toy because you wanted to poke and prod around at her and see if she cries again? see if you could fix something for once-” 

“stop,” his voice is different, and your hairs stand up because it’s not his. it’s lower in pitch, deep, commanding. you shut your mouth, fingers flying upwards, but it’s too late, you’ve said too much, and there’s no going back. this is it, you’ve finally sealed your fate. 

his head falls down for a second, licking his lips as he looks at you with a look that freezes your blood. it’s not like him, and you know that this was it. 

“get out,” he mutters. 

“i…” you take a step back.

“get out,” his voice is thick, nostrils flaring, cheeks red with underlying emotions that are threatening to leave, “get out and never come back.” 

your eyes shine with tears, tears that you refuse to shed, tears that you don’t know are for what, but you nod once, your lips trembling as you bow down to him, your last shred of respect, and turn for the door, shutting it as you run down the corridor, run for the only thing you think can save you in the moment, and don’t look back. 

—

the wind is biting and unforgiving on your skin as you ride through the night. 

you lean forward on the horse, hoping it can go faster as it sprints through the open field, your eyes watering as you shout for it to go. 

you packed what you could, wrote your note to lydia and escaped through the stables, glad  to know that louis was guarding the horses tonight, glad to know that he often drank himself to sleep. 

you knew you were in too deep. you had crossed the crown prince, your ending surely wasn’t going to be good. and so call it what you will, cowardice, fear, survival, or just something you seem to have down to your roots, but you fled. you took a horse and went as far as you could, looking over your shoulder every other minute to see if anybody was running after you. 

they would at some time realize that one of their horses was missing, as well as the prince's personal maid, and easily connect the dots. 

it was late, and you were glad that the night was offering you the darkness and protection you needed. you could hear thunder rumbling a distance away, the clouds looking even more irate than they usually do. rain, you noted, even more protection that you desperately needed.

“please,” you plead, with what you don’t know, “please, hurry.” 

the horse, as if understanding you, seems to pick up its pace, going even faster than before. your cheeks are freezing, your hands going numb from both the cold but from holding onto the reins with all your might, and the sad excuse of a cloak you have on for both warmth and concealing your face, does nothing for its intended purposes. it’s flimsy and the hood is swept by the wind, and you sniffle, tears wetting your chin as you try to compose yourself for just a bit more. 

you feel an ounce of joy when you see the yellow twinge of lights from the valley below, the small town that you once used to live in coming more into focus, and feel some sense of happiness. you would camp there for the night and leave at dawn, going east, north, anywhere away from here. 

or at least that was your plan until you hear the thump of hooves from behind you. 

your heart drops, head whipping around as you see another horse coming in from behind you. you can’t see the rider, but you suspect more are behind them. they’re shouting something, but with the wind roaring in your ears you can’t hear anything. you turn around, whipping the reins again, leaning even more forward as let out a sound of desperation. 

it’s a race to survive now, something that you won't do if you lose it, and you feel your body turning into ice, everything is going too fast. 

the rider behind you is gaining speed, and you know it’s only a matter of time before they finally catch up to you. in a split moment you try to evade them, twisting the reins of your horse in one direction, not seeing the bush that was in front of you. 

in another moment you’re up in the air, losing all of your feelings as you're thrown down with a harsh thud. 

in the next moment, things going to black, your lids flickering as you try to stay awake, one of the last things you see being the blurry face of the rider,

and those eyes that you think about every night. 

—

the next time you open your eyes it’s to a bright light. 

you ground, rubbing at your face as your mouth feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton, your head ringing as you attempt to sit up, only to feel strong hands gently pushing you down. 

there’s a voice, somebody speaking, but it’s all mushy in your brain, words melting together as you shake your head, trying to get the blinding light away from you. the voice grows a little bit closer, a little more clearer, and after a couple of seconds you’re able to make out what the person is saying.

“please rest, i’ll get the doctor,” the voice is familiar, and you reach out with slow fingers, trying to grab onto something, anything.

“n-no,” you murmur, your voice slurring, “no doctor.” 

“you need a doctor,” the voice says firmly, “wait here.”

“no,” you say again, a little stronger, and the person stops moving, “s-stay…please,”

your fingers reach out, trying to latch onto a piece of their clothing, and instead find their hand. it’s warm, soft, and it quickly closes around your cold one, trying to warm it up. 

you know this hand, know this voice. 

“i’m sorry,” you mutter, and wonder if your voice is even something that can be heard by the human ear with the way it sounds foreign even to you, “i’m, i’m sorry about everything. about what i said.”

his hold on your hand grows tighter, his thumb moving up and down on the back of it in a soothing back as his other hands run across your forehead. 

“no,” he simply says, “you don’t-”

“but i said-” 

“everything that should’ve been said,” gojo finishes quickly, “but i need to go get you a doctor, check if you don’t have a concussion or worse. he checked for…other things,” he swallows thickly, not able to say what terrible words the town physician told him when they brought you into the small inn, the words that turned his skin transparent and nearly ripped the heart right out his chest, “see if you’re doing okay.”

“i don’t have a concussion,” you tell him him, finally able to blink without shooting lights and on your final squint you finally see him, sitting right next to you, his hair disheveled and face clammy, “i’ve had concussions and this isn’t a concussion.” 

his brows furrow but you wave it off, sitting up so that you could rest on the head board behind you, not letting go of his hands. you’re not even sure he would let you if you wanted to, with the way he was grasping on as if his life depended on it. 

you groggily rub at your face, glad that the thumping in your head is dying down, gracefully accepting the glass of water he offers you. you chug it down, feeling the droplets wet the chemise you’re wearing, but can’t find it in you to care.

you look around the room, wondering if you might actually have a concussion because you’ve never been here before, and it certainly doesn’t look like it’s part of the palace. 

“we’re at an inn,” he explains as if reading your mind, “it’s the closest place i could find.” 

you nod wordlessly, looking away from him because it feels raw, the emotions, the events from before, everything. 

he senses your disposition and his hold on your hand loosens for a brief, flickering second. you hate the feeling. 

“i shouldn’t have assumed,” he whispers, your eyes still focused on the patterns on the bed sheet, not knowing what would happen if you looked at him, “i shouldn’t have thought any of it. i just saw you and saw him and…it got in my head. it got a hold of me and for that, i’m sorry.” 

your fingers curl into his hand. 

“but, i, um,” he stammered, stuttering the way he used to when he was a little boy, something they surely worked on seeing how it rarely came out anymore, “i wanted you to know that i do remember.” 

your head snaps up, the bed creaking at your sudden movement, your mouth slightly open in surprise. 

“what?” your question is breathless, akin to the boyish, nervous, and small smile on his face. just like he used to smile when you chased him up a tree, telling him to get down or else you’d be in big trouble as if he were your responsibility.

“you used to wear a uniform that was so huge, you’d trip whenever you’d walk. you loved the fruit pies i’d bring, but you hated the ones with the pine nuts. you’d always call me ‘toru because you couldn’t say your s’s properly and you made me a doll with some fabric you found around the rooms.” 

his thumb rubs on your pulse point, a melancholy smile on his face. 

“you named him fru-fru,” your voice is barely above a murmur, “and you kept him on your-” 

“nightstand,” he nods, “but i had to move him to my study because he was getting too fragile, i couldn’t move him too much.”

you wipe at your cheeks, sniffing as you feel a strange warmth fill your chest, filling an emptiness you didn’t know was there. his eyes shimmer, wet with tears threatening to spill, and for the first time since you met him that night, you feel like you’ve never been closer to somebody than you are now, souls interlinked together, twisting and turned as they grew with time. 

all the emotions you’ve been latching onto or forcing down are coming up at once and you feel overwhelmed, not knowing how to handle them together. 

“why…why did you act like you didn't know me?” you finally ask, wiping at your chin with the palm of your hand as you sniffle, “why are you telling me all this now?” 

“because all this time i thought you had grown to hate me,” he mutters, “you just stopped speaking to me one day and no matter what i tried to do you never responded. i sent you letters and i visited your quarters and i even went to that scary lady,” you laugh wetly, knowing that he was referring to your old head-maid, the one that terrified him as a kid, “but they all acted as if you had forgotten about me. at some point i convinced myself that you left but when i saw you running across that field i just knew, i knew it was you.” 

you shake your head, the tears coming on even harder. all those years when you had to act passive, act as if you didn't know him just so that you wouldn’t lose or jeopardize your position or life, pretending that the one friend that made your days that much brighter was a passing thought to you. 

he leans in a bit, wiping at your cheeks gently with his thumb as you lean into his hand, watching as you quickly wipes at his own reddened cheeks, brows scrunching up together as you whimper.

“they f-found out,” you choke, “about us. and they knew who i w-was and who my mom was and they told me to never speak to you again,” your words come out broken, “and i left little piece of my clothes outside your door at night, ones with drawings or things i thought you’d know but every morning they would be gone. i,” you cry, your voice sputtering as you crawl closer to him, into his open arms, “i could never forget you,” your voice cracks, muffled by his chest, “you were the only f-friend i had,” he pulls you in tighter, his arms around you encaging you in a warmth that you so desperately needed. his chin rests atop your head, and you can see the way he struggles to get his own breaths out, the tears that he struggles to hide. 

“don’t cry,” he pleads, begs, holding onto the last scrap of composure he had left, hating hearing your cries or seeing your tears, “please, please don’t cry,” he pulls himself away from you slightly to look at your face, to dry your cheeks as you hiccup, “you’re killing me tonight, you know that right?” 

you try to laugh though it comes off as a snort, savoring the way his fingers trace your face, your cheeks, your jaw, your nose, the corners of your eyes, trying to savor every bit of you as if they’ve been starved for an eternity. 

“tried to run after you after what i said…” he can’t find it in himself to repeat his wretched words, “only to find you gone. you have no idea how much of a mad man i was, ordering everybody to turn each stone inside out until they found you. then that stupid stable boy kept yelling out that a horse was gone and i thought surely you wouldn’t be foolish enough to run away, ‘specially not when a storm was coming but…”

“i ran away when a storm was coming,” you finish for him with a quiet chuckle, feeling your body heating up at the way he broke into an instant smile when he heard the sound. if only you knew the things he’d do to hear it again, to see you happy would be his three wishes if he was ever asked.

“and you were going fast,” he traces your cheekbone, his words filling the large and empty room, “so, so fast. and when you fell?” he takes your hand in his, bringing it up to his chest, setting it on his heart as you feel it thumping quickly underneath your palm, “was about to take you to the doctor and tell him to give you this,” his fingers curl above yours, his forehead resting on yours, your noses breaths away from each other, “it didn’t matter to me anymore, it doesn’t work right without you.”

you feel lightheaded like you need him more than you need oxygen, your eyes falling onto his lips, not knowing that he was mirroring your exact same motions, the two of you working in tandem like a machine and its little bolts, not working without the other. 

“would it perhaps be because you can’t live without the chocolates i sneak in for you?” you try to joke but it falls flat in your head, but he still huffs out a laugh, nose nudging yours as you lean in impossibly closer.

“perhaps,” he answers, his face lit by the single candle behind the two of you, “but it could also perhaps be because i love you so fucking much.” 

and you whine, tired of waiting, moving the single bit you needed to connect your lips together and fall forward on his lap, your hands shooting up to his shoulders to use as much needed stability. 

he groans, a sound from the back of his throat, from deep within him, his hands moving up to hold onto your waist as you move into him, kissing him with such fervor that you felt like you were going to die without feeling his lips on you.

it was so messy, the way your teeth clash against and noses bumped against each other, but it was what you so desperately needed. he was moving fast, his lips kissing against the corners of your mouth, down you chin as they found your neck, his smile growing as you throw your head back, fingering digging into his white strands as you tried to pull him in even closer. 

you let out breathless sounds, sounds that you never knew you could make, but it seems to spur him on, planting wet and sloppy kisses on the column of your neck as she sucked, marking you up so that later people would know that you were his and his alone. 

“gojo, i,” your eyes screw shut at the feeling of him, “feels so good,” you say breathlessly, moving closer up on his lap, feeling his hands tug at the flimsy chemise you have on, fingers slowly tugging it down, giving you time to push him off if you wanted to. 

he looks up at you, his eyes needy, desperate, just as yours, and you nod, needing him to not stop. 

he continues, pulling it down so that you're bare before him, nipples pebbling in the cold air as you go to cover up, suddenly realizing just what is happening, feeling shy, never like this in front of anyone before. 

“we can stop,” he muttered against your lips, pressing a small peck to them, “we don’t have to do this now, we have all the time in the world,” he teases as he tugs your chemise up but you grab his wrist, stopping him as you shake your head. 

“no,” you tug it down a little bit, “i’ve just,” you take in a deep breath, “just never done this before.”

he chuckles, eyes flashing darkly for just a quick second as he kisses along your jaw, leaving your skin shining in the limited light.

“good,” he murmurs, “‘cause i think i’d have to exercise my grandfather's way of handling people if somebody else saw you like this.” you laugh shortly, tugging sharply on some of his hairs as he looks up at you, eyes full of devotion that you’ve only dreamed about. 

“beheading people for just seeing my tits?” you’re more crass than he is in some places, a sign of the different language you’ve heard growing up in the circumstances you’ve had, but he doesn’t care, likes it in fact. 

“i’d burn down villages if anyone saw these,” he cups them in his hands, thumb flickering over your nipples as you suddenly arch into him, head falling back, “you’re so perfect,” he whispers into your skin, his lips hovering on the slope of your breasts as he takes time to admire your chest, “so beautiful,” you would’ve smacked him if not for the way he took one in his mouth, leaving you no time to think of anything else as a moan escapes your lips, the first of its kind.

“damn you gojo,” you moan, hearing his chuckle vibrate through your tits as his sucks on your nipple, tugging it with your teeth as you feel your stomach heat up, growing more and more wet as you buck up on his thigh, “you t-talk too much,” you shudder, eyes rolling back when he presses his flat tongue on your areola, his other hand massaging your other tit until he switches, leaving it glistening his his spit.

“yeah? then where do you want this mouth, hm?” he looks up at you with his eager eyes, just wanting to please you, and you feel like you’re becoming an addict, your cunt growing more and more wet as riding his thigh proves to not satiate the hunger. 

“d-down,” you can’t think clearly, “please, need you so bad.” 

“where?” he plays with you, pressing his hand against your stomach, “here?” 

you shake your head, feeling needy and not in the mood to play around, not knowing where your sudden surge in confidence was coming from as you grab his wrist, leading it down to your cunt as you hide your face in his neck, whining. 

“h-here, ‘toru, need you here,” he throws his head back, a sound coming from somewhere in his chest as his name falls from your glossy with spit lips, tugging the ends of your chemise up to your stomach as he stares at your bare pussy. 

he pushes you back gently to lie on the bed, nestling between your legs as he savors the sight.

you cover your face with your hands, hearing him laugh at your expense, keeping your thighs spread wide open with his hands as he presses tantalizing kisses on the insides of them, each one closer and closer to the unbearable heat. 

“wait,” you mutter, confused as to what he was doing, watching the way he snapped up, worried eyes finding your confused ones, following your stare down to his growing bulge. 

“i thought…?” all the stories lydia would tell you didn’t start this way, usually beginning his the man pulling his dick out and being done in a couple of minutes, “do you not…?” 

satoru breathes easy, laughing as he shakes his head, resting on his haunches as his palm rubs against your soft thighs. he looks so pretty like this, with his hair going haywire, some of it in his face, some of it messily pushed back. there’s a pink flush to hit face, his lips plump and shinning with spit. 

“trust me, you have no idea how bad i want to feel you,” his eyes are so dark that you wonder if they’re even blue, “but i’m not going to do it in your condition. i don’t want to hurt you any more-” 

“but,” you whine but he shakes his head, pinching your soft skin as you wince, hitting him with your knee as he rolls his eyes. 

“i promise you’re going to like this,” he rubs softly against where he pinched you, smoothing the skin over, “do you trust me?”

“yes,” you mutter, watching as he breaks into a smile, “better not disappoint me though.”

“fuck, you’re such a minx,” he groans, spreading your lips open with his pointer finger, his dick aching at the sight of the string of arousal that connects them together, at the clear shine and wetness from just how much you needed him, “you’re actually going to be the death of me.”

“then hurry u-up ‘toru,” you say, “don’t die on me now,” your fingers were cutely curling in his hair, and he’d be an insane lunatic if he made you beg any more than you have, diving in as if you were actually his last meal before he died. 

your mouth falls open in a silent scream, the feeling unlike anything. he sucked on your clit, moving up and down from your cunt, wanting to taste your saccharine wetness on his tongue to back up. he was so messy, so loud, and you felt like you were going to overheat, felt like everything was fogging your vision. 

it felt so good. too good. his tongue dived in and out of you in a way that had you gripping his hand and the sheets under you, your leg around around his shoulders as you bucked into his open mouth, your wetness smearing all of his lips and chin as he ate you like a man starved for years. 

“o-oh my god,” you mewl out, eyes rolling back as you felt one of his long, swift fingers slowly pushing into you, his lips still sucking on your clit as you felt like you were actually entering heaven. 

“not god,” his voice is muffled, “just ‘toru.” you would have laughed if you could, your smile instantly dropping when his finger pumps in and out.

your toes curl, leg around his shoulder pulling him in closer if that was even possible. if he were to die right now he’d had the giddiest smile on his face, happy to have you dancing around on his tongue. 

everything about this was shameless and you wondered if all your good deeds were finally catching up to you. 

you don’t even care if the people sleeping next to you, above you, under you, or even at this inn could hear you, because when he put in his middle finger you screamed, back arching off the bed. 

“so good, fuck, ‘toru, i,” you could even form a complete sentence, “feel so good,”

“yeah?” you nod feverishly, “fuck, you taste amazing, love this so much, love you so much,” he’s babbling with his words too, his nose sometimes accidentally rubbing against your clit, bringing you all the much more pleasure.

sometimes when you look down to see him you moan helplessly, your chest heaving at the way he’d rut mindlessly into the bed, his dick hard and swollen and achy from eating you out, about the burst from just your scent alone. 

your stomach tightens and you feel an unfamiliar thing deep in the pit of your body, growing taut with each swipe, each like, each kiss he would give you. it made your moans more breathy, your words less understandable, and you felt like you were slowly going to go insane, losing all sense of reality. 

“‘toru, i, i don’t know,” you’re sputtering, nails raking into his hair, your free hand grabbing onto your tits, the bed sheet, his shoulders, anything to help you ground you back down to earth, “i feel, f-fuck, oh my god, i,” 

“you got this sweetheart,” he encouraged you, his words honeyed, “come on, let go for me, you can do it,” his thumb which had found its way to your clit was speeding up, his tongue and fingers taking turns as they pounded into you. 

you felt that rope getting together and tiger, about to snap at any moment as you whined, tears escaping from the corners of your eyes as your lips huffed out puffs of air. 

“i, f-fuck, i’m ‘gonna, oh…” you whine out loud, the line snapping, your orgasm crashing through you as your mouth falls slack. 

it was mind numbing, the way everything went white, the way you tightened around his fingers which were slowing down. you creamed around him, leaving his skin shiny with your release, your pussy still pulsing seconds after as you try to catch your breath, still seeing white behind your lids as your tits move up and down with each haggard breath. 

he presses on last kiss to your fluttering clit, hands massaging your quivering thighs as you slowly yet surely come back down to reality, each second passing bringing you back down with him. 

“good?” he teases, his smile coy as you cover your eyes with one arm, lightly pushing him with the other. 

“fine,” you mutter, peeking over to see him positively glowing, a stupidly large smile on his face when he sees you finally looking at him, pressing the fattest kiss to your lips as you squeal, eyes fluttering for a second as you taste yourself on him, parting your lips mindlessly to let his tongue slither in.

you whined against his lips, fingers curling around the collar of his open tunic, pulling him closer to your naked body, feeling your tits press up against his chest, everything so perfect that you wondered if you were dreaming. 

“wait,” he muttered, pulling away from you, a string of spit connecting your lips together as you sit uop a little, you brows scrunched in confusion as you watch him sit up from the bed, walking over to the vanity as he rumages around the drawers for something. 

he pulls out a small cloth, holding it up in victory as he grins, walking over to your nightstand as he wets it with soem water, crawling back into bed as he settles back in the middle of your thighs, gently pulling them apart as he starts cleaning you. 

it’s all so intimate and so loving. you feel like melting watching his focused gaze, careful to be soft and slow, knowing that you’re a little stretched out, and pat it as best he could, cleaning around your thighs as well, throwing the cloth to the side as he climbs back up to you, pressing a loving kiss to your temple. 

you shrug the rest of the chemise off, riddled with your essence and sweat, and pull the covers up, feeling the sudden chill now that satoru’s no longer eating you out like both your lives depended on it, and a silence falls over the room. 

“is this a bad time to tell you about my horse laundering scheme with fushiguro?” you ask, your eyes shining mischievously as satoru whines, hiding his face in your chest as he pulls you closer to his body. 

“you’re so evil,” he says against your skin. 

you laugh, the sound going straight to his heart, his smile hidden. 

but you fall silent and when you don’t speak he looks up, his eyes searching yours. 

“what now?” you whisper, your fingers carding through his hair, feeling its softness, “i don’t…” you trail off, biting your lip as every other emotion that you had tucked away comes crawling back. 

his finger finds its way to the middle of your browning, easing the crease that was forming. 

“now you become my wife…if you would like to, of course…” 

you search his eyes to see if he’s joking, but you only see honest sincerity in that sea of blue, his cheeks pink as he blushed. 

“really?” you can barely say it without a giddy smile making its way on your face, one that he glows brightly at. if only he could bottle it, save it for when the universe collapsed and was in need of light. 

“really,” he promises, holding you tightly to him, not wanting to ever let you go again, needing you next to him so that he could make sure his heart was working, to make sure that he was actually alive and that this wasn’t all a dream. 

“i’ve loved you since the moment i saw you, ‘toru,” you whisper, nodding off to sleep as a yawn escapes your mouth. 

“is that because i used to try to swoon you with food?” he whispers, his drowsy eyes finding yours as you sleepily giggle, kissing the tip of his nose as you curl into his heat, a smile on your face when you say the last words before you finally head off into sleep. 

“perhaps.”

[thestarsarebrightertonight]

cinnamon girl // theodore nott x fem reader

"violet blue green red to keep me at arms length dont work"

playlist : cinnamon girl - lana del rey

summary : everyone knows you have a crush on theo , even he knows! so when you randomly start avoiding him one day , theodore cant help but go crazy.

sunshine reader , y/n used , hufflepuff reader

masterlist

"theo!" you called out happily , running to the boys side and catching his wrist to stop his strides down the corridor, "hi, ive been meaning to talk to you!".

he looked at you , seeming displeased and just grunted in response , turning away and not even looking at your smiling face that admired him so softly.

"so you have a match on saturday and i was just wondering wether i should support you or hufflepuff? i always try and do my best in encouraging you but when youre against my house it becomes difficult-"

"i dont care do whatever." he said simply , finally turning to look back at you with an annoyed face.

your expression dropped for a split second , a moment so small it was hardly detectable but for that single second your smile dropped completely. and theo noticed. he thought that was probably the first time in your whole life youve stopped smiling. and the first time youve dropped your delicate hold on his wrist.

but you quickly regained composure , smiling up at him although not as sweetly as before , it almost seemed strained this time , "right , thats fine. ill just see what i can do closer to the time. bye theodore"

theodore. ouch. theo watched as you walked away silently , not turning back at all. he tried not to read too much into you , he didnt want to think he cared enough to, but hearing you call him by his full name and not theo? he hated to admit it stung a little more than he thought it would.

----

"hey!" you said enthusiatically as you sat down besides your close friend hannah , she looked up from the desk and greeted you back.

usually in charms you found yourself sat besides her , talking all lesson or admiring theodore , but you could help but avoid his side of the room like its the plague.

the plague being the pretty ravenclaw girl that for some reason was sat next to him as they discussed something civilly. usually theo sat with mattheo or alone since mattheo wasnt regularly spotted in charms , so to see him sat next to a girl youve never seen him with? you felt your heart shatter right onto the ground around you.

"y/n? are you listening?" hannah tried to ask you until she followed where you stared and saw theodore with the ravenclaw , "oh".

you nodded besides her , forcing a tight smile onto your lips and finally dragging your eyes from them , "its fine , everyone knows he doesnt like me back, i guess i was just in denial about it."

hannah saddened at the forced laugh that you let out , pulling you into a hug and rubbing your back , "he was never good enough for you anyways. youre a whole galaxy and theodore nott is the moon , nothing compared to you."

"i love the moon," you said softly as your eyes began to well up with tears.

hannah pulled back and scanned the room before grabbing your hand , "professor flitwick isnt here yet , leave now and if he asks ill say you were sick. go to our dorms and ill get snacks from the kitchen and we can stay in tonight , sound good?"

you smiled happily at her , "thank you hannah"

she returned the smile with a light nod before handing you your bag and shooing you away , watching as you left the classroom hastily.

failing to feel theos eyes that burned into your fleeting figure.

---

the next few days were odd for theodore nott. something felt missing but he couldnt quite place his finger on it...

that was until he made eye contact with you in the hall and watched in suprise as you looked away and practically sprinted down the corridor , rather than coming up to him with a bright small and a new topic to rant about.

and he didnt like it. not one bit.

for the rest of the week he picked up on the things that you did - or didnt do.

how your smile would drop when you made eye contact with theodore. how youd talk happily to lorenzo and then make an excuse to leave as soon as theo tried to join the coversation. how you stopped sitting next to him in potions and instead sat with hermione , chatting away to her and not noticing the glare theodore sent towards the both of you.

but the one thing that pushed him over the edge was when he flew out onto the quidditch pitch and immediately searched for you in the stands , only to spot you waving at diggory , wearing his jersey?!

theodore had never felt jealous before -lies- but in that moment he held onto his broom a lot harder than before , his whole body felt hotter and his eyes glared holes into cedric diggorys back.

lets just say that throughout the match he made sure to shove diggory with every chance he got , eventhough none of it was necessary as they had completely different roles in the game.

"nott get off diggorys fucking broom and do your job!" adrian shouted at him from across the pitch , making theodore roll his eyes before giving cedric a last shove and flying away.

from the stands you watched theodore in confusion ,along with the rest of the audience , staring as he yet again flew in the path of cedric and shoved him to the side before contiuing to chase the hufflepuff chaser.

"it seems like nott is more concered in giving the golden boy diggory a good push rather than actually fulfilling his job , typical slytherins playing dirty in my opinion-" lees comentating was cut off by professor mcgonagall clearing her throat , "sorry professor."

----

the match had ended and purely because of the rest of the slytherin team , they won , however the poor performance of theodore threw the whole teams goal points off.

"what the fuck is wrong with you theodore!?" draco shouted as the team entered the changing tents , "if i hadnt gotten that golden snitch we wouldve lost AND been the comedic relief of all the other houses!"

theodore let out a heavy sigh before sitting down on one of the benches with his head in his hands , pulling his hair aggresively, "shove off malfoy im not in the mood".

"all this because of some hufflepuff mudblood wearing diggorys jersey-" draco started again , before being pushing harshly by a now infuriated theodore.

"the FUCK did you say malfoy?!" theo screamed in his face , being pulled away by lorenzo who tried to calm the situation.

"guys we won and thats all that matters!" enzo tried to reason with the furious boys.

"barley , berkshire! theo over here nearly fucked everything up because of childish jealousy!" draco shouted back , venom dripping off his words.

"who said i was fucking jealous?" theo shouted back as majority of the team turned to him with disbelief.

"you nearly dropped the quaffle twice because you were too busy figuring out how you could shove cedric on the way to the goalhoops-" mattheo started before being cut off by the curtain of the tent being pulled back.

revealing a girl covered in bright yellow , covering her eyes and trying to walk into the tent without falling, "c-can i look?".

the whole tent gaped in shock before lorenzo finally spoke up , "yeah..yeah you can look y/n dont worry."

you quickly uncovered your eyes and blinked as they adjusted to the light , looking at the scene before you which showed theodore being held back from draco by lorenzo and a disapproving mattheo stood in front of the lockers.

"theodore what are you-" you started before being cut off by the boy shaking his head rapidly.

"stop - stop calling me theodore i cant stand when you call me that."

you stared in suprise as theodore shrugged off lorenzos hands and walked over to you, this was possibly the most emotion the boy had shown to you.

"oh uh right sorry , i just wanted to say well done for the match. i was rooting for hufflepuff but there isnt any other team that deserve it more than you guys!" you smiled awkwardly as the team thanked you a short silence following , "anyways , theres a certain hufflepuff thats a bit gutted about his loss so im gonna-"

"diggory?" theo asked with a sour tone as he stepped closer to you , not breaking eye contact.

"yeah , hes upset but i said if he lost id make him a crochet blanket to make him feel better so-"

"but you only make me crochet things." theodore said coldly as you stuttered again , unfamiliar with this behaviour from theo.

"ha , yeah i do but um , i didnt think you liked them so i thought id just put my efforts elsewhere!" you laughed awkwardly.

"the blanket you made him's on his bed , he takes it home aswell because he cant sleep without it-" mattheos teasing was cut off by a sharp glare from theo.

"shut up riddle!" theo seethed before turning back to you.

"no dont be embarassed theo - its nice to know you love it!" you said , finally regaining a comfort in theos presence at this news.

"i love you." he stated simply as the whole room fell into a dead silence.

your mouth hung wide open , as did his teamates before they were ushered out of the room by enzo , your moment with theo requiring the upmost privacy.

"you- you what?!" you asked in pure shock as the final player exited the tent.

"i love you," theo stated again as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"but- but you like hate me , you dont even reply when i talk or smile at me-" you ranted.

"youre right, i hate you. i hate how you love me more than anyone else has before you... i hate your hair and your perfect smile.... and i despise how you make me feel," he stepped so close that your bodies touched and his hand rested on your cheek firmly , "but theres a very thin line between love and hate."

you gaped up at him in suprise , "theo-"

he quickly took a step back and walked to his locker , pulling out a top, more specifically his jersey that he now handed to you.

"take that god awful jersey off i dont think i can handle looking at it for one more second" he said bitterly , staring down at the yellow top you wore with distaste.

"i love you too." you said , still frozen in place and staring up at him.

"i think everyone knows that princess." he said with a laugh , the first laugh youd heard from him in a long time.

a blush spread to your cheeks , both at his words and the addictive sound of his soft chuckle.

"why have you always ignored me if you love me?" you asked still being slightly unpleased with his random confession.

his smile dropped as he frowned and looked at you sympathetically , "i just thought you were doing it all for fun , maybe to mock me or something. i tried to shut out the fact i like you and it clearly didnt work , i was just ...scared." he confessed in a moment of complete vunerability.

you admired him with care and empathy as he spoke from his heart so purely , before your face cracked into a teasing smile , "you know i wasnt actually rooting for hufflepuff?"

he smirked wrapping arms around your waist and pulling you in closer ,"oh really?"

you nodded and pulled the braid in your hair over your shoulder , to reveal the dark green bow that wrapped around the end of it.

theodore grinned upon seeing this as you both giggled , a sweet first kiss following the heart to heart.

[sahkuna]

wanted to write a drabble about this canon factoid about gojo and his inoue waka lockscreen. ugh, he's such a loser i miss him.

☆ — gn! reader (no pronouns mentioned), fluff, set in 2007, pining gojo, percieved to be in the same universe as not so invisible string (but can be read as a standalone) so also tagging eventual friends to lovers…

“You’ll never get a girlfriend if you keep that as your phone’s wallpaper,” Shoko says as she scrunches her nose in disdain at the promiscuous photo of Inoue Waka clad in a tiny baby blue two-piece bathing suit. 

Stunned by her sudden accusatory (and unprovoked) comment, Gojo blinks at his home screen once, then twice before he slides his gaze sideways to the brunette beside him. Shoko’s still looking at him as if he had pissed his pants or something, her judging gaze flitting back between him and his flip phone.

What’s wrong with his wallpaper? 

Gojo didn’t think much of it when he set it on his phone last week. Even Geto hadn’t shown much of a reaction when he got a glimpse of the new home screen. Inoue’s a beautiful woman and this photo of her on the beach doused with seawater complimented her features really well. 

Straightening his posture in his chair, Gojo juts out his chin a little, ready to shut down Shoko’s slander on his choice of wallpaper. “Well, I think it’s quite nice—”

“It’s too horny.”

He cringes a bit at that.

Shoko waves a dismissive hand in the air, unbothered about how Gojo’s eyebrows are tightly pinched together with artificial offence and betrayal. She quickly follows her statement with, “Your lock screen is the first thing people see when you show them your phone, right?”

A wounded pout is the only response Shoko gets, so she continues. “So make it something meaningful. Just… just anything but that,” she scoffs, harshly pointing a pale pink nail at the offending picture.

Something meaningful, huh?

Gojo presses his cheek into his palm and thinks of a million and one things he could set his screen to. Then, as if a light bulb went off in his head— shining light onto every crevice in his mind— he’s presented with the one.

Easy.

You’re supposed to be studying.

Supposed to.

But for the past fifteen minutes, you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching you. No matter which direction you swivel your head, whether toward the bookcases or the nearly vacant tables behind you, you find no one here besides you and the librarian. 

You conclude that you’re just tired, especially considering how extensive your studying has been within the last hour.

You turn your focus back to your notes and reread the line you last left off on, writing notes along the way. 

The abrupt sound of what you assume to be a camera shuttering quickly pulls you out of concentration. You seize your writing and glance around the library, silently looking for the suspect behind the noise. 

Who the hell would be taking pictures of you in the middle of a library?

You turn your head to the left and lo and behold, a few chairs across from your seat and the vast mass of your notes and books scattered across the wooden table sits Gojo Satoru.

It was as if he materialized out of nowhere.

Upon being caught, a gleeful grin spreads across his lips and his cheeks pop with a healthy, bright hue. Since there was no need to hide in plain sight any longer, Gojo slid out of his chair and into the one seated right across from you.

Your senior gives you a two-fingered salute. “Hey.” 

That’s all he offers you before he raises his flip phone camera to eye-level view and snaps another picture of you.

“Don’t you ‘hey’ me,” you say, trying to swat his hand and phone away from your face. You vaguely wonder if he was ever taught the golden rule of how everyone was entitled to having a “personal bubble” around them back in preschool. 

But judging how his flip phone is obnoxiously close to your face, practically trying to get his lens to merge with your skin, clearly not.

You softly knock his hand away again with the back of yours. Fortunately enough for you, he temporarily relents. “Why’re you taking pictures of me?” you ask.

“Why not?”

You bite the inside of your cheek as you feel an oncoming scowl almost crawl onto your lips when you watch Gojo lamely jump his shoulders to his ears. 

However, not wanting to give your teacher a reason to storm into the campus library right now and wring you two by the neck, you choose peace and decide to pick at his brain as to what brought him here to you. “Why, though?”

“Why not?” he repeats.

Fuck that, this was getting you nowhere.

“Well, I have some heavy studying to do.” You throw a wary glance at Gojo, who seems to have only brought him, himself, and he to your not-so-private study corner. “So I’d appreciate it if you would… lay off on that…” You gesture blindly at the phone he was scrolling through, pressing multiple buttons to go through his gallery and admire the pictures he’s taken.

“Oh, me?” Gojo presses a hand on his chest in a faux woe-is-me act hoping to garner your sympathy. His sunglasses slightly tip off the edge of his nose and there’s a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. “You don’t even have to worry about me. Pretend as though I’m not even here.”

“Easier said than done,” you mumble more so to yourself than him.

Gojo leans back in his chair, his arm propped against the upper ledge of his seat and watches you, content that you haven’t shooed him away from your presence altogether. 

He keeps this up for a few minutes, and you think this is fine. If he can keep quiet like this for the next 15 minutes while you finish up the last remnants of questions you have left, you’d go home with an empty to-do list and a clear conscience.

“You know…” Gojo suddenly pipes up, and you hiss an irate Oh my God at his antics. “If you look at the camera just once, I’ll be out of your hair. I promise.”

Sighing heavily, you toss your pencil defeatedly between your notebook's pages. Anything to get him out of here, honestly. “Fine, make it quick.”

Gojo laughs, carefree as always. “Okay, okay, just…” He raises his phone into view once more. “Just smile this time, yeah?” 

Behind his phone you see his free hand drift toward his lips. His index finger gently pulls at the corner of his mouth, tugging it into a warm smile. You’re positive that this is a silent request for you to produce one of your own, so you give.

However, your smile comes out looking a bit strained. You feel it, Gojo sees it.

“Wanna make it less forced?” he teases.

“Shut up!”

Relaxing a bit, you try once more and muster up the best star smile you can produce and for a split second, something in Gojo’s chest does a sick sort of squeeze, tight and hard.

If there were any way to describe it, Gojo would say it was the kind of smile you’d request and pay for a print version if it were for school photos.

He watches you for a beat or two through the lens of his phone, his ice-blue eyes are both soft and probing.

Since when did you smile like that? Could you do that more around him? How can he get you to—

“Hurry, please,” you say through clenched teeth, keeping your posture.

Ah, right.

Thumb hovering over the OK button, Gojo quickly snaps your photo.

“Happy now?” 

It’s a rhetorical question, but Gojo nods all the same, grateful for your cooperation, regardless of how brief it was. 

“Where’s this even going?” you question, watching how your upperclassman fiddles around a bit longer on his phone. God knows what he’s doing with your pictures now.

Gojo glances at you searchingly, before he offers you a quick and easy smile. His eyes dart back down at his phone and reads the prompt on his screen.

Ready to set as new wallpaper?

“Somewhere special, you could say.”

[gghostwriter]

You’re the Risk, I’ll Take it

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Summary: The three times Spencer followed advice and the one time he didn't (or as I'd like to better explain it, the three times Spencer fails to flirt and the one time it worked)

Warning: fluff! Just fluff!

A/n: I wanted to write something cute this time with Season 1 Spencer in mind--one of the best eras if you ask me. Hopefully I did him justice in this. The idea of this cute baby boy trying to flirt is too precious honestly. Also, if a guy did the last act for me, I'd fold like a lawn chair, yep. Risk by Gracie Abrams was on repeat while I was writing this and no proof reading was done. Let me know what you think!

Main masterlist

The first move Spencer tried was advised by Derek Morgan, the renowned ladies man

“Kid, admit it. You like her,” Morgan pestered him with a slight smile on his face. 

Spencer scoffed, trying to throw him off from the truth but monumentally failing. “S-she’s my closest friend. We joined the team at the same time, of course I feel most comfortable with her,” he noted his companion’s eyebrows raising higher and higher with each word. “Plus, she likes hearing what I say even if it has no relation to the case. She asks me questions and genuinely remembers.”

Now it was Morgan’s turn to scoff. “You could be talking about Star Trek and it’s physics mistakes and she’ll still hang on to every word you say.” 

“Actually, there aren’t that many scientific errors in Star Trek. Especially considering—”

“Reid.” 

“Right,” he nodded once, trying to push away the urge to continue further. “That still doesn’t mean I like her.” 

Morgan tapped the wheel twice before turning to face his partner. “Then answer me this. How do you feel when she walks through the office doors?” 

“Happy, I get the same feeling when I see you or Elle come in too,” he found his fingers very interesting then. Like they held the key to unlocking the mysteries of Dark Matter and the answer to the controversial scientific theory ‘Do parallel universe exist?’. He wasn’t telling the whole truth—didn’t want to because how could he, a man of science, explain the other bodily reactions he has when you walk in a room. How he hears his heart stutter in his chest with just a glimpse of you—the first time it happened, he thought nothing of it, but by the third, he considered making an appointment with a specialist for possible heart arrhythmia. How he sees the room brighten when you smile in his direction—perhaps light sensitivity, and how he feels his body heat up when you utter the words ‘Good morning, Spence.’—possibly hot flashes. Self diagnosis that he ruled out once he found you to be the common denominator. That left him with a riddle, a personal conundrum he lost countless of sleep over trying to solve.

“That’s a lie, Reid. You can’t be that happy to see me. You never blush like a tomato when I enter the room. For Greenaway, I could see it but for me, nu-uh,” he argued back. “Okay, what about when she’s not there, what do you feel then?” 

“Sad, similar to how I’d react with you and Elle,” he blurted out another half truth. Another surface level answer that doesn’t fully cover how lost he feels without your comforting presence beside him, how gloomy any room he enters in without you in it, and how incomplete his days were without hearing your voice. 

Morgan snickered. “Lies, you have to learn how to lie better to fool an FBI profiler, Reid. You don’t think I—the team, notice that you’re quieter when she isn’t on the case with us?”

“Wait. Wait, the whole team?” His voice goes up an octave. You were part of the team, did that mean you knew of the effect you had on him too? “D-Does everyone have the same idea as you do? Everyone?” 

“Not everyone, kid. Your secret is still safe,” He smiled wide like a cat that caught the canary. “So it’s true then, you like her.” 

Spencer knew there was no escape from trap, he was just glad that his secret still remained classified from the other party involved. His shoulders sagged as he nodded to confirm Morgan’s findings.

“So what’s your play then?”

His head whipped to face his companion so fast he felt his meticulously styled hair escape the confines of his ears. “Play? There’s no play. Nothing. I’m not going to do anything and this conversation stays between us.” 

“Oh c’mon lover boy, you have to do something,” Morgan challenged. “Y’know she likes you back, right?” 

“No she doesn’t! I mean, why would she?” Spencer rambled on, unable to comprehend what Morgan was saying. “She’s her—beautiful, smart, and cool. Every case we get, there’s at least one police officer hitting on her. And I’m me—I talk too much and get awkward in every situation. The exact opposite!”

“Reid, don’t sell yourself short. She likes you, trust me on this.” He paused, listening to the update on the intercom before continuing on. “So here’s what you’re going to do. Compliment her outfit, girls appreciate that. Easy enough, don’t you think?”

Spencer really didn’t think so after all he had the tendency to go off on a tangent whenever he talks to you but he agrees nonetheless. If Morgan believes he could do it then he couldn’t mess it up, right?

———

Wrong. It was wrong to take Morgan’s advice. Never mind he can recall everything he has ever read, never mind he has an IQ of 187. What good were his talents if he, Dr. Spencer Reid, couldn’t string the proper sentences along?

It started when you walked into the office wearing this light yellow blouse that made you more radiant than he thought possible. It was as if the a ray of sun had graced the bullpen and stunned his mind into silence, rendering him tongue-tied. All his monologues and hypothesis bouncing around his overactive brain fell away and the only thing he could think of was how pretty you look.

Morgan cleared his throat, bringing him back to the living. Spencer averted his awestruck gaze and busied himself with an imaginary lint on his red sweater. 

“Hey Y/N, did anything good this weekend?” Morgan asked as you settled into your desk adjacent to his.

You shrugged nonchalantly and teased back. “I bet it wasn’t good as yours, Morgan. Picked anyone up last Friday or are your charms no longer working?”

“Huh, i see where this is going. Somebody woke up on the wrong side of bed today.”

Morgan chanced a peek at Spencer and internally groaned. How you didn’t notice the kid’s crush on you was beyond him—all the staring and blushing he does when you’re near was a dead giveaway.

“Reid. Reid,” Morgan called out.

He closed his mouth and gulped. “Hm, what?” 

Morgan pointedly stared at him and titled his head towards your direction. A movement lost to you as you noted Elle leaving Gideon’s office.

Spencer opened his mouth to catch your attention but before he could even utter your name, Elle intervened. “Question for you, the foot path killer. Why’d he stutter?”

You swiveled to face her, not having caught Spencer’s intent to speak to you. The unit chief then called them in for a case—an arson case in a university campus. His shoulders drooped as they rushed to the jet afterwards with no chance of small talk. 

When there was a lull in the plane—case discussion finished, he steeled his already apprehensive nerves and took the chance, quickly wishing he hadn’t.

“S-so, your shirt’s yellow,” he stated out loud like it was some sort of revelation. 

“Yes,” you drawled out, unsure as to where he was going with this. “That’s right, Spencer.”

He drummed his fingers on the table and continued on. “Did you know that airplanes tend to avoid the color yellow as it causes dizziness and nausea? A number of studies have shown those exact results and that’s why it’s almost never used in interiors of various forms of transportation and rarely use in advertising. It’s like how the red is the most common color used by restaurants as it psychologically makes the viewer hungry.”

You looked down on your top. Yellow was one of your favorites and you specifically chose this as Penelope said and you quote, it looks good on you, brings out your eyes. Boy genius would probably react to it too so naively you splurged on it. But this—this wasn’t the response you were hoping for. “Spence, are you saying my shirt is making you feel nauseous?”

He blushed and stammered out a strong refusal. “What, no! No! I—I meant to say—you, you look nice.”

You giggled under your breath, finding his long-winded route to giving you a compliment cute. “Nice nice or airsickness nice?” 

“Nice! Just nice!” He defended on, his voice cracking at the end. He caught Morgan’s wide eyed gaze then as if he couldn’t believe what train wreck he just witnessed. 

Cheeks heating up further, Spencer slouched in his seat and busied himself with the files wishing that he could build a memory eraser so he could wipe the events from his and the team’s minds or better yet, a time machine to redo the whole thing all over again.

The second move Spencer tried was advised by Elle Greenaway, the new recruit

“Do you think it’s weird that I knew that ballad?” He questioned during one of their cases in San Diego. It bothered him since the start of the case. How Morgan had teased him about his incapability of asking out the opposite sex. Never mind that you defended him right back, that’s a lie, it made him feel special that you did but the joke was still true. A cold stone truth. 

Elle laughed, flipping her phone repeatedly on the table while waiting for the unsub to take the bait. “I don’t know how you know half the stuff you know, but I’m glad you do.”

“Do you think that’s why I can’t get a date?” He asked as he fiddled with the unfinished Rubik’s cube in his hands.

“Have you ever asked her out?”

There was no need to ask who Elle was referring to, everyone knew of his innocent—well maybe not so innocent at times specifically during his state of dreaming—crush for the second youngest member of the team. He shifted his eyes to focus a few tables before his—at you, sitting beside JJ. “No."

“That’s why you can’t get a date.” 

One of the precincts phone then rang, it was the unsub, causing him to table that conversation in his vast memory. 

———

There’s an English saying that states ‘the second time is the charm’ and Spencer was hoping there were some truth to the idiom even with no scientific explanation to back it up. 

A few cases after San Diego, he got an opening that he was unexpectedly looking for. The team was on their way back from a case in Virginia. It was late and the profilers were all tucked in their little corners of the jet decompressing while you and Spencer were huddled on the sofa quietly discussing Doctor Who. 

“How could you say your favorite is the Ninth Doctor when you haven’t even seen the older episodes?” He rambled, clearly he would have to do something about your limited knowledge in the great universe of Doctor Who. He’d like to explain it all, 695 episodes of the classic era to you. He’d take any topic really just to have your interest.

You stared into his hazel speckled eyes and smiled, amused by his reaction. “It’s a bit hard to catch up on a show that’s been around since the 70s. Plus, it’s a challenge to look for copies.” 

“Actually, the show started in the 60s—1963, to be exact,” he clarified. “Garcia has copies we could borrow and watch together. If that’s—” he cleared his throat and clenched his fists closed, feeling his nails dig into his palms. “—that’s alright with you. If—if not, there’s a convention happening this weekend. I have an extra ticket, if you want to come with—only if you’re not busy, I mean.”

“And risk you spoiling every episode to me? I’d rather watch it alone, if you don’t mind.”

That dragged his optimism to a crash as if a twenty ton weight landed on his chest, rendering him immovable. Of course you were going to say no. There was no proof that you’d reciprocate his interests—he inwardly cursed himself for believing otherwise.

“But, I’d like to go with you to the convention,” you said and silently added as your date to yourself, shifting in your seat with a blush blooming on your cheeks at the thought. “Always wanted to go to one. If you’re fine with me not being in a costume. I think it’ll be too late to find one, don’t you think?”

Just like that, the weight on his chest lifted, making him feel weightless with glee. A wide smile grew on his face, threatening to burst his cheeks as he shook his head. “That’s alright! But you—you can always dress up as Rose!”

You titled your head to the side. “Rose?” 

“You know, the Ninth Doctor’s companion?”

“I know who she is, Spence. I just thought you didn’t watch the revived series?”

He softly scoffed. “I never said that! I watched it too, mainly to compare it to the classics but I’ve seen it.”

You leaned in, wanting to ask about his opinion on it. “Well, what do you think? I happen to be part of the minority who think the actor who reprised the role did alright.”

He liked seeing you like this. It made him feel like a puppy who had his owner’s undivided attention. All wide eyed and interested in his conjectures as to why the actor was alright himself but the problems were his short stint—making people vilify him over that decision—and the material some of the writers came up with. He appreciated you nodding along and supplying your own thoughts on the subject. It warmed his heart that here was a beautiful, smart, and cool person—way out of his league, he might add—giving her precious time away to discuss a nerdy sci-fi show that he could not rant and rave to about to anyone on the team, except for Penelope, and she’s rarely on the field with them. 

Your show of interest made him feel seen. Not as an agent with 3 PHDs, not as a genius with 187 IQ, but rather as a person with a right to express himself and occupy space. He wasn’t Agent Spencer Reid with you nor Dr. Spencer Reid, he was just Spencer who likes to watch Doctor Who and read literature in their original language. 

The third move Spencer did was proposed by Penelope Garcia, the spirited tech analyst 

“What do you mean you took her to a convention? For a date?” Penelope squeaked out, unable to comprehend the logic behind the genius’ actions.

“She said she always wanted to go,” Spencer stated as the elevator stopped on the fourth floor. He had fun over the weekend. Going around booths with you, listening to invited guest panels talk about the behind the scenes, explaining the reference every costume that you’ve pointed out, and just basking in your presence beyond cases. It was a memory he had replayed over and over after it had ended. It occupied his whole mind, and that’s saying a lot, causing him to do nothing and sit in his leather sofa and smile like a lunatic during the rest of the weekend.

“Well yeah, but that’s not date material! A date is supposed to be intimate—you and I go to conventions together, do you count that as a date?” 

“What? No! No, of course not!” 

“Exactly, boy wonder. Then what makes you think she’ll count that as a date?” She countered back as she entered her office with Spencer in tow. 

Silence. Oh.

Penelope sighed, having read the despair painting his face. “Did you at least dress up as the Ninth Doctor?”

“What? No. No, I went as the Fourth Doctor. I even hand-knitted the scarf myself.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before repeating what she just heard. “You didn’t dress up as her Doctor?”

“No,” he paused, unsure where she was going with this. “Should I had?”

“Yes! Yes, you should have!” Penelope slapped his arm out of frustration. “Why didn’t you call me once she said yes? We could have talked game plan or strategy or at least have gotten you a leather jacket to match her choice of companion.”

“Oh, I messed up then, didn’t I?” He slumped despondently on the office chair. “You—you don’t think she thought of it as a date at all?”

She played with her feathered pen, trying to find a way to salvage it for Spencer. “Did you take her out to dinner after?”

He shook his head, finally realizing his mistake.

“Oh Spencer,” she approached gently. “I can scoop for details with Y/N later on and report back to you?”

He shook his head. It didn’t feel right to have Penelope betray your trust and go behind your back over a mistake that he made. You were a honest person and you deserved to be treated with respect and reverence even though all he wanted now was peer into your viewpoint of the date—not date—and figure out once and for all if you saw him as anything beyond a co-worker and a friend. 

“Hm, I think I might just a solution,” Penelope blurted out of the blue. 

He looked up with a sliver of hope blooming in his chest. Maybe third time’s the charm. Besides, Penelope was the colleague you spent most of your time out with. You once mentioned that you considered her your best friend, besides from him of course. 

“You can bake her a batch of cookies! No one can say no to that,” she excitedly explained, believing it to be full proof—except for the fact that he doesn’t know how to bake. He wants to ask you out on a date but not to the expense of burning his whole apartment building down. 

“I can’t—I can’t bake, Garcia,” he squeaked out. “Did you know that 44% of all reported home fires are caused by cooking and baking. Those fires have resulted in an average of 470 civilian deaths and 4,150 civilian—”

She interrupted. “I’ll give you my recipe and detailed instructions to follow. That’ll make it easy peasy for you, boy genius.”

“C-can’t I just buy from her favorite bakery instead?”

“No can do, Doctor. Her favorite cookies just so happen to be my creation. She told me so herself.”

“Well, can’t I just ask you to make it for me? I’ll buy the ingredients!”

“Nope,” she dragged out her refusal. “Think of it as an act of service to her. Plus don’t you think it’s highly romantic when she finds out that you baked them yourself?” She swooned just thinking about it.

“Romantic? It won’t be romantic when I burn my apartment down, Garcia.”

She sighed. “Fine, I’ll supervise if you want. This weekend, granted if we’re free. But you—” she pointed her feathered pen at him. “—better be prepared and I’m just supervising, okay? I’m not baking it myself.”

He sighed. At least having Garcia around would make it easier.

———-

It did not in fact make it easier. Spencer burnt two batches before six pieces were considered edible. Garcia couldn’t understand, hell, he also couldn’t. Baking was precise and from his scientific viewpoint, it was a lot like chemistry. He loved science and anything academic, so how is it that he failed miserably, twice, when it came to baking? 

He shook his head as he entered the office. The first one—he stole a glance at Hotch’s office and saw movement—correction, the second one arriving early. Sometimes he wondered if the unit chief ever goes home, first in and last out.

He settled in his seat before promptly fidgeting from anticipation. Statistically speaking, you arrive earlier than Morgan or Elle which gave him enough time to gift the paper bag of cookies sitting hidden in his satchel without bringing attention to and embarrassing himself. He’d like to have little to no audience if he ever does mess it up for the third time. 

He brought out the cookies, afraid they’ll get crushed between his hardbound books, and placed them on your desk before standing to wash his clammy hands and make coffee. Counter intuitive of him to do as he was already a bundle of nerves and by drinking caffeine he was doubling that but maybe the smell would calm him before shooting up his energy by drinking.

As he exited the mens room, Penelope stepped out of the elevator and squealed. “Is she here? Is she? Did I miss it?”

He shook his head vigorously, trying to silence her excited glees. “No, she’s not here yet. She’ll—” he looked at his watch and ran the numbers. “—be here soon. I’m about to brew coffee. Do you want some?” He opened the door for both of them to enter the bullpen.

“Ick, no thanks,” Penelope said, scrunching her nose at the thought of drinking even a sip before scurrying away to her cave. “I’d rather not ruin my taste buds on bad coffee.”

He laughed and turned towards the kitchenette. With the coffee brewing, he drummed his fingers on the counter and mentally rehearsed what he would say to you. If he practiced, there’s less chance of messing it up like the first time, right? In his state of concentration, he missed you entering the office in all of your beautiful glory.

“Ooh cookies!” you exclaimed as you opened the unknown package on your table.

Spencer abruptly turned, hitting his side on the corners as he did. His eyes widened as he registered you holding the unsigned paper bag of treats on your desk. 

“They must be from Penny,” You continued on, oblivious to his presence and the devastation your remark caused him. Of course, he’d find another way to mess it up. You glanced around and your smile widened as you took in his handsome presence. “Oh hey Spence! Look, Penny made me cookies!” You tip-toed out of excitement. 

He smiled at your enthusiasm for something as simple as treats in the morning. The giggle you gave out as you entered the kitchenette was enough for him to slightly care less for the truth. He loved bringing out the happiness in you. It was like his own personal sunshine shining down on him, soaking him with vitamin D and boosting his overall sense of wellbeing. “Do you want coffee with that? It’s still hot,” he offered. 

You tapped the side of your hips with his as a sign of good will. “Thanks, Spence! This is turning out to be a great day, don’t you think?”

He watched as you busied yourself with putting cream and sugar in your of cup and sighed wistfully. “I think so too.”

And the last move Spencer did was recommended by no one but himself, the awkward 187 genius

With all three acts not delivering, he promised to try one last time without any outside interference besides from yours in his memory. You always did tell him to be himself in any situation, no matter how much he stumbled through any awkward situation—always there giving him a pat on the back for encouragement. 

Over the weekend, he spent his time reading two of your favorite books—which didn’t take much but he did read them again and again, regardless of his eidetic memory, trying to understand why these specific books were your comfort. Always pushed within the confines of your go bag, dog-eared and brown from age. He wanted to know how they’ve become an extension of you and how it had shaped you to the woman he has fallen in love with. 

He found himself hunched over his dining table, underlining sentences that made him think of you, scribbling away on the margins (and sometimes on post its too), and tabbing the written pages with a variety of colors that each represent an emotion. The act in it of itself made him feel closer to you than he thought possible. Lines in the books that made him think, ah so this was what formed your kind spirit. This is why your empathy knew no bounds. And this is why your beauty is inside and out.  

Spencer laid down to rest, anxious for the next day, Monday, to come. His heart threatening to beat out of his chest but his mind oddly calm as if it had a precognition that everything would turn out just right.

———

You arrived earlier than he did, throwing him off balance. 

“Hey Spence!” You greeted with a smile. “I got you a croissant and some coffee from that shop near my place.”

He blushed and stammered out a thank you. You were wearing a deep purple blouse that matched the scarf around his neck—the birthday gift you’ve given. He was no believer of the mystics but he took all of these as a sign from the stars. There was no way he would mess this up now.

“I—I got you something too,” he looked inside his satchel, hands shaking from it all. Gods, he wished this would go well or else, he might just die from embarrassment. “It’s nothing much but—I read your two favorite books and just—I wanted to discuss it with you,” he brought out the tabbed copies and presented them to you. “These are for you. I know you have copies of your own but I-I put my own notes on which lines reminded me of you.”

Your face turned red at the notion behind it all. Here was the BAU genius, the certified lover of the classics and the academia, the man who had your affections since day one, reading two contemporary literatures just for him to present you a gift like no other. You reached out and hugged the precious copies to your chest. 

“Thank you, no one’s ever done this for me before,” you breathed out, falling deeper into attraction with the perfection in front of you. “ Hey Spence, I may sound delusional asking this and you can say no if you want to but—” you visibly gulped, unaware of the audience nearby. “—would you like to have dinner with me? I make a mean lasagna.”

He turned red and vigorously nodded. “Y-Yes. Yes, I’d love to have dinner with you.”

You giggled, sounding like wind chimes to his ears. He did too, giggle I mean, from the triumph of finally knowing that his feelings were willingly reciprocated.

“Finally, you love birds!” Morgan shouted as he swung his arm around Spencer. “Didn’t know how much we could take from this pretty boy—” pointing at him “asking for advice and you—” pointing at you “—pretty girl is as dense as a rock. Tell me again how’d you end up as profiler with those observation skills.” 

A hand whacked him at the back. “Way to ruin the moment, Morgan.” Elle chided before turning to Spencer with a smile. “See told you, you could get a date.”

[violetmuses]

Walk Like This - A. Aretas ❤️‍🩹

Title: Walk Like This - A. Aretas ❤️‍🩹

Fandom: “Bad Boys” Film Universe

Character: Armando Aretas

Pairing: Armando Aretas + Female Reader

Main Storyline: You've crossed the unexpected patient.

Tag List: @nelo0wesker @yassbishimvintage @nobodygetsza @peaxhygirl @superstar-t20 @adoresmiles @klssngss @deja-r @hyper-trash-panda @amethyst-loves-bucky @planetblaque @sweettea-and-honeybutter @lovedlover @xjjawsomex 🏷

=====

2024

Designated to work somewhere in Miami this time around, you've hustled throughout various placements after joining that large-scale facility.

While trying to sleep on one rare day off, this unknown number reached this cell phone.

“Hello?” You've hardly woken up by this point and still feel exhausted.

“Rook, I need a big favor.” Cutting your nickname, Detective Mike Lowrey called out of nowhere!

“Mike, what the hell?” You somehow pull thoughts together and sit up in bed, unsure of what's going on.

“Trouble. One of our guys is wounded. I really can't bring him to the hospital, though.” Mike explained.

“Damn. Where are you?” Your heart dropped with each passing moment.

“We're on the porch, but I'm barely holding him up right now.” Mike struggled.

“Hold on!” You ended that conversation and hustled downstairs, genuinely nervous.

The stranger's lifeline just counted down more and more.

When you open the front door, Armando Aretas nearly dropped from Mike's hold.

“Shit!” Knowing so much better, you aid this moment despite holding back questions. “C'mon, Mike. Help me bring him to the couch.”

“Okay.” Mike agreed to help without thinking twice.

______

With James McGrath dead, Miami's AMMO squad returned home, but Aretas couldn't risk public sight while known as this dangerous criminal.

After facing many questions or encountering secrets over time, even Mike took responsibility and now stood as Armando's biological father.

Using First-Aid and grounding other essentials, you knew that Armando's injuries could've worsened if Mike hadn't signaled right away.

“What else do you need, Mike? I can't babysit your son.” Telling the truth, you glared at Lowrey.

“Please look out for him. I can't book hotels for recovery, either.” Mike shook his head.

“Y'all can't go home afterwards? Christine is a physical therapist, too.” You say. Mike married this remarkable person named Christine as well.

“I know, but Armando is better off hiding near strangers.” Mike continued. “Right now, if I stayed in public with him, someone would call…”

“I'm harboring a fugitive and could lose everything.” You gritted anger.

“I'll figure this shit out.” Mike held your shoulders with gloved hands. “You won't get in trouble, all right? I promise.”

“Mike…” You trailed off this response when Armando grumbled from the sofa.

Clenching through pain, Armando woke up this time and sat up while shirtless. Bandages helped the wounds.

“Hey. Take it easy, man. We got this.” Lowrey cautioned his son.

“Who's that?” Revealing slightly accented English, Aretas looked at you, drained.

“One of my friends helped out.” Mike introduced you during terrible circumstances.

“Hi.” Lifting your hand, you offered kindness while greeting Armando. “We've patched you up.”

“Thank you.” Aretas expressed gratitude despite everything.

“Of course.” You still checked this stranger regardless.

Lingering grief and exhaustion pooled his deep brown eyes.

No matter what happens next, you just wanted this man to heal.

****

Sometime later, you've returned home from work and discovered that several cars parked in the driveway.

Even Detective Lowrey's classic Porsche beamed past moonlight, and your thoughts jumbled.

Entering the garage, you opened this following door but almost hopped within seconds:

“Surprise!” Mike Lowrey brightened the kitchen lights, and this AMMO squad cheered to celebrate your birthday.

This adorable cake towered as weapons expert Kelly stood beside tech genius Dorn.

“Thank you, everyone!” You smiled. Even Mike's partner and best friend Marcus Burnett chuckled over dessert.

“Make a wish!” Marcus would offer the plan every year.

Closing your eyes, you kept thoughts private and leaned forward, blowing out candles.

Once you turned around, Armando stood in perfect health wearing this random cap.

“Take off the hat, Armando!” Mike laughed this time, and everyone cheered even louder.

Aretas left the barbershop with this buzz cut and held flowers, opening both arms to embrace you.

Happy endings became real.